Redemption (A NOVEL OF THE SEVEN SIGNS) by Erica Hayes

Author:Erica Hayes
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781101619438
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2013-03-05T05:00:00+00:00

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CHAPTER 23

Rose awoke to the sound of a rippling waterfall.

She groaned, shifting. Something banged into her skull, and her eyelids cracked apart.

Glossy white tiles, hard and cool through her damp jeans. Jeweled raindrops glittered on a tall pane of glass.

She’d hit her head on the shower screen. Japheth’s bathroom. She’d passed out in the shower? Damn, she must have been exhausted.

She rubbed her bruised temple, and memory glared, indignant. She’d tried to kiss him, and he’d rejected her. And then Fluvium…

Her blood thumped sickly. How did Fluvium get in here? Surely Japheth had put up wards. Explosive angelic traps to keep demons out. So what was it, a dream? It sure as hell felt real…

She shivered, and clambered up, bare feet sticking to the tiles. Her clothes were still plastered to her chilled skin. Where was Japheth? Why had the bastard left her here? She palmed her eyes, fighting a raging headache. It didn’t matter. He’d be sorry soon enough that he hadn’t killed her when he’d had the chance.

The waterfall sound swelled louder. She leaned on the tiled wall for a moment, dizzy. What the hell was that…?

Her vampire ears pricked. Not water. Music. Clear, crystalline notes, rippling up and down, uncanny sound quality…

Goose bumps licked her forearms, and she rubbed them. But curiosity itched, too. He’d left her fresh clothes, she saw. Folded neatly on his bed, jeans and a t-shirt, similar to what she already wore. Two sets, in fact, like he couldn’t decide between blue and black. He’d even brought socks.

Like she wanted anything he’d brought her…but despite the shower, her body crawled with filth, real or imagined. Her skin tingled with longing. Clean clothes would sure be nice.

Swiftly, she peeled off her damp jeans and shirt. Her bra and panties were damp, too, but she left them on. They’d dry soon enough. The new t-shirt said VERSACE in golden letters, and smelled of Chanel No. 5. It fit okay, a bit big around the boobs, but it’d do. The fabric stretched smooth and clean over her skin, and she sighed in sweet relief.

The blue jeans were tight and too long—whose were they, anyway, a supermodel’s?—but she stuffed the bottoms into her boots. Her knife lay on the bed. She buckled the sheath around her thigh. It felt good to be armed again.

She smoothed the jeans over her butt, enjoying the crisp clean feeling. But that eerie music still ebbed and flowed. Tugging her hair back as neatly as she could, she tiptoed from the bathroom.

In the living room, late afternoon light scarred the floor with stark orange shadows. The cityscape glared, blinding sunset reflecting in the west-facing glass across the street. Great. She’d slept all day. Who knew what he’d gotten up to without her?

The music grew louder, climbing the octaves. Sunlight licked the dark granite breakfast bar, two shiny metal stools, spotless sink and tapware. Bloodstains still crusted the pale sofa, but guess-who had meticulously polished the floor. His silver breastplate lay sparkling on the boards.

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