Beneath the Skin by Adrian Phoenix Read Free Book Online Page A

later, but between the house exploding and the frickin' Fallen popping out of the sky, I lost track of him."
    "Probably long gone," Cortini agreed.
    "Hell," Von muttered. "I suppose it's too much to hope the fucker bled to death. We're gonna hafta continue this later." He glanced at Heather, then nodded at Cortini. "Think you can work with her while I Sleep?"
    "You tell me," Heather said.
    Von crooked a finger. "C'mere, Cortini. Time for a little heart-to-heart."
    Cortini padded across the carpet to where Von stood in front of the dresser, her footsteps almost nightkind-silent. And no wonder--she'd been raised by nightkind, a mortal in a household of vampires.
    Von's words, spoken not even an hour ago in the pouring rain, curled through Heather's memory: a child of the heart. She couldn't help but wonder what that meant exactly, what it entailed, and what had happened to Cortini's mortal parents.
    Cortini knelt on one knee in front of Von. "Llygad," she said, bowing her head, her shoulder-length hair swinging forward to frame her elfin face in dark, rain-damp strands.
    The fact that Von was wearing only his boxers made the scene a little surreal, but didn't lessen his rough dignity one bit. The crescent moon tattoo beneath his right eye glittered like moonlit frost. Llygad. Keeper of history. Poet warrior bard. Nomad. Nightkind.
    Von was all of these things and much more. Heather remembered what he'd told her the night before ... the long, heartbreaking, furious night that had just ended.
    We're the keepers of nightkind history, the impartial Eyes of truth.
    "I need to take a look inside," Von said, tapping a finger against his own temple. "Wanna know if I need to shoot you or not so I can Sleep."
    Heather stared at him, hoping he was kidding, but his face remained deadly serious. No hint of a smile tugged at his mustache-framed mouth.
    "I understand, llygad." Cortini lifted her face, shook back her hair. Her gaze, steady and open, held Von's. "All my life, I've walked the tightrope between the mortal and vampire worlds," she said. "But that changed yesterday when I learned that a True Blood prince and Fallen Maker had been born. Then hidden and abused. Programmed." Cortini's body remained still, but Heather heard the edge in her voice, each hard word stropping that edge razor-sharp. "I'll guard Dante Baptiste, and all those he cares for, with my life."
    Fire sparked in the green depths of Von's eyes. "We'll see, darlin'."
    He leaned over and tipped Cortini's chin up with a finger. She drew in a deep breath, then closed her eyes. Von's gaze unfocused as he dipped into the assassin's mind.
    Cortini's breath caught in her throat. She swayed as though dizzy. Shivered. After a few moments, she touched fingertips to her temple, and opened her eyes.
    Von's gaze refocused and then he nodded. "C'mere," he said to Cortini. She rose to her feet in a single, graceful motion and followed him to the bed Heather sat on beside Dante's Sleeping form. Von pulled one of the Brownings free of the double holster slung over the bedpost.
    Heather's heart kicked hard against her ribs. She couldn't just let him execute Cortini. "Wait, she's got info on--"
    Von handed the gun to Cortini. He glanced at Heather, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Ain't gonna shoot her." His gaze flicked back to Cortini. "Not yet, anyway," he drawled.
    He pulled the Browning's twin from the holster and handed it to Heather. "Extra ammo's in my jacket pocket. But I'm hoping to hell you ain't gonna need it."
    "Me too." The pistol's weight felt good in Heather's hand and a bit more of the tension uncoiled from her muscles. She checked to make sure the safety was on. She missed her Colt, and mourned its loss along with the purse and cell phone Lyons had stripped from her.
    Cortini tucked the pistol into the back of her black jeans, snugged it against the small of her back. "An honor, llygad."
    "Name's Von, darlin'."
    Von's gaze shifted to Dante's Sleeping form. His brows