Wicked Kiss

“Perhaps,” he conceded, but he believed I was different due to my secret origins.

Either way, I needed my soul back. It wasn’t even a question.

“Very good.” Cassandra nodded and slowly trailed her gaze over Bishop’s body. It was leisurely enough that the sour taste returned to my mouth. “Despite your personal difficulties, you appear to have everything under control here.”

“I do.”

“Then why are you bleeding right now?”

My eyes shot to him.

“Excuse me?” he asked tightly.

She pointed at his abdomen. “How were you wounded?”

His jaw tensed. “It’s nothing.”

“Bishop!” I exclaimed. “What is she talking about? Are you hurt?”

He didn’t look at me. “No.”

“Pull up your shirt,” Cassandra instructed. “Let me see.”

After another hesitation, he reluctantly reached for the bottom of his long-sleeved T-shirt and raised it up to show his flat, muscled abdomen. My breath lodged in my throat. There were three deep cuts in his skin. The flow of blood had slowed, but it had soaked through his shirt. Since the material was black I hadn’t noticed anything before.

I was horrified that he’d been walking around with these wounds all night and I’d had no idea. “Oh, my God! What happened to you?”

His gaze flicked to me. “Nothing. I was going to get Zach to heal me next time I saw him.”

“Nothing? That’s not nothing! Who did that to you?”

“He did it to himself,” Kraven said with disinterest, exchanging a wry look with Roth. “It’s his new thing.”

All I could do was gape at Bishop. “Why would you cut yourself like that?”

“The pain helps me concentrate,” he said through clenched teeth. “It takes my confusion away. I need to be able to keep my focus, no matter what.”

I clasped my hand over my mouth, stunned. This is what he’d discovered during the days we’d been apart. This is why he hadn’t needed me to touch him to help clear his mind.

Instead of sympathy for his struggle, hot anger surged through me. “That was an unforgivably stupid thing to do!”

His gaze hardened. “I found a solution. I used it.”

A strangled sound escaped my throat. “Yeah, fantastic solution, Bishop. Self-mutilation. Really brilliant.”

Kraven snorted.

It was as if someone had just drawn a blade over my skin as well and pressed down hard. He’d chosen to inflict injury on himself rather than seek me out. The realization stung like hell.

He lowered his shirt, frowning deeply. “I didn’t want you to know about this.”

“Such a martyr,” Kraven drawled. “Spare me the drama.”

“I assume you used the Hallowed Blade to do this. Otherwise, it would have healed by now.” Cassandra was pushing Bishop’s shirt back up. “Hold still.”

She placed both hands over his wounds and a few moments later, with that soft pulse of light from before, the cuts disappeared.

She didn’t let go of him right away, standing intimately close to him.

“Better?” She smiled up at him.

“Better. Thank you.”

“I know how hard it must be for you to deal with the side effects of your soul. I wish I could do more to ease your pain.”

I literally trembled with the effort it took not to close the distance between us and wrench her hands away from him. Even though I knew she’d helped him, I didn’t like how she was touching him.

I’d known Cassandra the Perky Blonde Angel for an hour now and I was insanely and irrationally resentful of her immediate connection with Bishop. I hated feeling this way, all these gnawing doubts in my gut joining my ravenous hunger pains.

Cassandra was beautiful, capable, smart and strong—and she could heal injuries with a mere touch. She was an angel, too. They had everything in common with each other.

Irrational or not, I hated her stupid blond guts.

“Do you give everyone this kind of personal attention?” I asked. “Or just Bishop?”

She glanced at me and gave me a small smile. “I healed Roth, too.”

I felt the heat of Bishop’s gaze on me, but I didn’t look directly at him. I knew every word that came from my mouth made me sound like a petty, jealous girlfriend. I’d always hated girls like that.

I fought hard to keep any discernible emotion out of my eyes. Despite our undeniable connection, Bishop wasn’t my boyfriend. I had no real claim on him at all.

I mean, I didn’t even know his real name.

That’s what my brain knew—that Bishop wasn’t mine.

My heart, however, had a totally different opinion on the subject.

Before anyone could say anything else, the side door clanged shut and a few seconds later, Zach and Connor entered the church sanctuary with us.

Great, I thought drily. The gang’s all here.

Zach was tall and thin, with red hair, freckles on his nose and clear, green eyes. He was kind and thoughtful, and typically did the healing in the group. I knew this from personal experience. Connor was an inch or two shorter, with dark skin, and hair so short I considered it shaved. He always had a joke to help lighten the mood. The two had forged a close friendship since they arrived, and usually went out on patrol together.

“Patrol” was the term for their endless city walks in search of grays who’d lost their minds, their control, who were so driven by their hunger that they became a true and monstrous threat to anyone they crossed paths with. Those grays were targeted for death—their bodies swept away to the Hollow after the deed was done. The golden dagger wasn’t required to kill a gray. They might be supernatural, but they were still mortal.

If I gave in to the kiss much more, I’d also become one of those zombie grays. Which was why what had happened with Colin had frightened me so much. Once a gray turned to that zombie state, there was no coming back from it. The horrible thought of losing myself completely kept me awake at night staring at my ceiling with my sheets pulled right up to my neck.

“We have a visitor,” Connor said with surprise as he noticed Cassandra—and it was very hard not to notice the beautiful blonde. “Hi, there. I’m Connor.”