Darkangel - Christine Pope (most important books to read txt) 📗

“We’re in the sitting room,” I called back.

A minute later, Kirby’s tousled brown head was peering around the doorframe. His eyebrows lifted a little when he saw me sitting there with Adam. “Oh, hey, didn’t know you had company.”

“Just grabbing some dinner,” I told him, although between the bottle of wine and the fire and the low light from the sconces on the walls, it probably looked like more than simply dinner.

“Got it,” he replied. “Well, we’ll be over in the living room if you need anything.”

“Okay,” I said, not sure whether I should be relieved or annoyed by my built-in chaperones.

During that exchange with Kirby, Adam had been busying himself with setting out the plates and napkins, and pouring a healthy measure of chianti into each glass. He’d kept the pizza box closed, though, probably to make sure it didn’t get cold before we even had a chance to eat it.

He handed a full wine glass to me. “Here’s to surviving an encounter with Damon Wilcox.”

I wouldn’t let myself shudder. No point in asking how he knew; news like that traveled fast in the McAllister clan. I just took the glass from him and said, “Cheers.”

We clanked glasses, and both drank. It hadn’t been that long since lunch, but even so I could feel the warmth of the wine as it traced its way down my throat, relieving some of the tension in my neck and back. In silence we helped ourselves to some pizza. Adam had eaten most of his piece before he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Why not?”

“Because….” I let the word trail off, then shook my head. “Nothing really happened. The de la Pazes made sure of that. And I just….” Another swallow of wine heartened me somewhat. “Because I’m home now. I’m safe here. And I don’t want to bring something that dark under this roof, I guess.”

Expression sober, Adam nodded. Energy was something we all understood, since magic was energy. Invoking the name of something was giving it a chance to worm its way into your life. I wanted the energy in this house to be pure and strong.

“Okay,” he said. He lifted his glass again. “Here’s to the de la Paz clan, then.”

I definitely could drink to that, and swallowed some more chianti. With each drink of wine and bite of pizza I was beginning to feel more relaxed. I was home, and the bodyguards were out in the living room, and the space where I sat now was warm and cozy, with the fire crackling away in its simple hearth of travertine and dark-stained oak, and the walls in a deep parchment shade reflecting the glow from the wrought iron and alabaster sconces.

In this light Adam’s mid-brown hair looked darker, and I couldn’t see his eye color at all. No, he wasn’t exactly a Chris Wilson, or even an Adam Trujillo, but he was nice-looking. I’d spent a lot of time trying to ignore that fact since he wasn’t my consort and therefore not someone I should be thinking of like that.

You’d better start thinking that way now, I thought with some resignation. Sure, maybe there’s the slightest chance of a Hail Mary pass this late in the game, but I wouldn’t put any money on it.

“You’re looking very serious,” Adam said, setting down his wine glass. After being raised by Aunt Rachel, I had the instinctive impulse to reach for a coaster, but then I realized that was silly. I’d put a glass-topped table in here precisely so I wouldn’t have to worry about that sort of thing while I was trying to relax.

“Am I? Long day.” That wasn’t even a lie. I just didn’t know if I was ready to admit to him what I’d really been thinking about.

Silently he reached in the pizza box and set another slice on my plate, then poured me some more wine. I wondered if he were trying to get me tipsy. Actually, that didn’t sound like a bad idea. I was safe here, after all, and I thought after the confrontation with Damon Wilcox and the disappointment at not getting to see Chris Wilson, a slight wine buzz might be just what I needed.

So I ate some more pizza and drank some more wine, and watched the flames dancing in the hearth. Adam seemed to understand that I didn’t feel like talking, and ate and drank along with me.

This wasn’t so bad. Maybe it didn’t have to all be blazing sunsets and grand passions and shooting stars. I’d dreamed of someone, but he’d never materialized, and I could tell the whole Chris Wilson thing was a total dead end. It was probably foolish to have thought otherwise.

And after what Margot Emory had told me about any warlock being enough to ensure my safety, even if it meant sacrificing the true strength of my powers….

I figured I could live with that.

A large drink of chianti, to give me courage. Then I set down my glass and looked across the table at Adam. I was sitting on the couch, and he on one of the two armchairs that faced it. “I want you to kiss me.”

He’d been in the middle of lifting his own glass to his mouth. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Instead of setting down the glass, he drained it — which sounds worse than it was, since he only had a few swallows left in it anyway. Once it was empty, he did place it carefully on the tabletop. “What’s this about, Ange?”

“What do you think it’s about? You’re the one who said we should be together if my consort continues to be a no-show.” I crossed my arms and met his gaze straight on…or as straight on as I could manage after two large glasses of wine. A heavyweight with alcohol I was not.

“Right, I did, but….”

“But nothing. All these years you’ve been on my case about this, and now when I’m actually inviting you to kiss me, you’re going to act all weird about it?”

Something crossed his face then. Annoyance? Worry? In the dim light it was hard for me to tell. I could see him clench his fist on his knee, as if fighting some inner conflict. Then he got up from his chair and came over to me. Standing above me like that, he seemed very tall.

“Stand up,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because if this is the decision you’re making, if by asking me to kiss you, you’re saying we’re going to be together, then I want you to stand up and kiss me like the prima of the McAllisters. I don’t want to be a couple of kids making out on a couch.”

He meant it, I could tell. There was a note of authority in his voice that I’d never heard before, as if somehow this kiss would push us past a threshold, carry us from the last edges of childhood into our adult lives. Did I want to take that step? I’d asked him to kiss me, but….

It would have happened anyway, if your consort had come to you. But he hasn’t, and you need to kiss Adam, to get used to the idea. It’s not as if you haven’t kissed a bunch of random guys over the past year anyway.

That seemed to clinch it. I looked up at him steadily, at the firm chin and friendly mouth, at the brown hair that had just enough of a wave that he couldn’t get it to do much of anything.

I reached out and took his hands in mine. To my surprise, they were cold, despite the warmth of the room. So he was more nervous than he wanted to let on.

“Yes, Adam,” I said. “I want you to kiss me.”

The briefest moment of hesitation, and then he bent down and placed his mouth on mine. I hadn’t been expecting a shower of sparks, and I didn’t get one, but once I got past that I realized that his lips were warm and strong, and he tasted of wine as I opened my mouth a little and let him taste me as well. This wasn’t so bad. I could get used to it, even if it wasn’t thunder and lightning and choirs of angels singing.

After a minute, he pulled away and gazed down at me. His eyes were shining, so although I wasn’t experiencing anything earth-shattering, I could tell he felt differently. “Okay?” he asked, his voice husky, rougher than usual.

“More than okay,” I replied. “It was good. I liked it.”

He smiled, his fingers tightening around mine. “Good. I mean, I thought it was good, too.”

“Just good?” I teased.

“Okay, more than good. Great. It was — ”

“Hey, Angela, the Coke’s gone. Can I have — ” Kirby again, this time stopping abruptly as he seemed to notice how close Adam and I were standing to one another, how we were still holding each other’s hands. “Er…sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said quickly, releasing Adam’s fingers as I turned toward the doorway to the kitchen. “What did you need?”

“Well, you’re out of Coke, so I was going to ask if it was okay if I fired up the Keurig for the watchdogs. Things start to drag around 3 a.m. if there’s no caffeine to be had.” He was studiously not staring at Adam, although I could see his eyes dancing with amusement.

“Sure. Let me show you where I keep all the packets.” I sent Adam an apologetic glance. “Sorry — this’ll just take a minute —”

“It’s okay,” he broke in. “Like you said, you’ve had a long day. I should just let you relax for a while. We can talk tomorrow.” He bent down and kissed me quickly on the cheek. Then, without looking over at Kirby, he headed out