Cliff’s Descent by Dianne Duvall

Chapter Twenty

Emma jerked awake. Disoriented, she glanced around and realized she’d fallen asleep while trying to lose herself in an e-book.

Boots thumped on her front steps, as loud as a bass drumbeat in the night’s quiet.

She glanced at the clock. It was too early for Cliff to arrive. The sun had barely set, so he probably hadn’t even started hunting with Bastien yet.

Hard knocks rocked her door.

Unease shot through her. Cliff didn’t knock. He rang the doorbell they’d installed together.

Careful not to make a sound, she padded over to the door in bare feet and peeked through the peephole.

A black shirt and coat blocked her view until the man inside them bent his knees to reduce his height enough for her to see his face.

Oh shit. Her heart began to slam against her ribs.

Aidan O’Byrne, a nearly three-thousand-year-old Immortal Guardian who had pretty much moved into an apartment down on sublevel 5.

What the hell was he doing here?

A full minute passed while she wondered what to do.

A sigh wafted to her ears. “I can hear your heartbeat through the door, so pretending you aren’t home isn’t going to work, Emma.”

She swore. “What do you want?”

“I need to speak with you. Open the door please.”

Hell no. Not until she figured out why he was here. But the late nights with Cliff had left her somewhat sleep-deprived, so her mind was sluggish.

Another masculine sigh. “You know who and what I am, so you know no locks can keep me out. I’m asking you as a courtesy.”

Well, crap. Emma turned the locks on the door and opened it only enough for her to stand in the gap and speak to him. No way was she inviting him inside.

She tilted her head back. She’d passed Aidan in the hallway a time or two at network headquarters. He was handsome. And tall. Taller than Cliff, who was six feet, making her feel at even more of a disadvantage.

But he didn’t charge in or make any threatening moves. “You know who I am,” he stated again.

She gave him an abrupt nod. “You’re Aidan. I’ve seen you around at the network.”

“And Cliff has mentioned me.”

She debated the wisdom of answering that one and wondered if he was one of the telepathic immortals, capable of reading others’ thoughts. “Yes.”

“As I said, we need to talk.”

Emma hesitated another moment. Cliff had never spoken poorly of Aidan. Quite the opposite. So she ultimately decided to ease back and open the door wide enough for him to enter.

Aidan stepped inside and glanced around while she closed the door.

“So?” She folded her arms just under her breasts and wished she wore a T-shirt instead of a tank top.

“So,” he parroted and actually looked as awkward as she felt. “You’ve been seeing Cliff.”

Emma kept her expression neutral. Should she deny it? Feign ignorance? Brazen it out?

Then reason penetrated the fog of fatigue and pointed out that if Aidan knew her address, he probably knew a hell of a lot more.

“How did you know?” she asked finally.

“Cliff is my friend,” he told her. “I sleep at the network during the day and have spent a lot of time with him since transferring to North Carolina.” He considered her carefully. “You know that immortals and vampires have heightened senses.”

She nodded.

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice that—on the nights Bastien takes Cliff hunting with him and lets him roam alone for a few hours—Cliff always returns carrying a woman’s scent.”

Emma lowered her gaze to her bare feet. Curse their heightened senses.

“I catch the same scent each time I pass your office at the network. And even if I didn’t, I’m telepathic and see you in his thoughts.”

As always, resentment that her relationship with Cliff was entirely dependent on the approval of others welled within her. Cliff still worried over Seth or Mr. Reordon discovering their relationship, convinced they would put a stop to it to protect her. So if Aidan was here to warn her away, he could go fuck himself. “If you’re here to tell me not to see him anymore, you can—”

“That’s not why I’m here,” he said. “Because I’m telepathic, I also know that Cliff is always in better shape mentally after spending time with you. He’s calmer. More at peace.” He shrugged. “I’m his friend. I wouldn’t take that away from him.”

All defensiveness fled. Emma lowered her arms. “He says I quiet the voices.”

“You do.” Regret darkened his features. “But Cliff is struggling, Emma.”

Her throat worked in a swallow. “He’s been struggling for a long time now.”

Aidan shook his head. “Yesterday was different.”

Fear and dread returned, making her stomach churn. “What happened? He didn’t come by last night. Did he have another break?” His rare absences always terrified her but usually only lasted a night.

“No,” Aidan told her. “But the voices clamoring in his head were so loud that they woke me from a sound sleep. And when I went to him…” Every second he hesitated, her fear escalated. “He was contemplating ending it.”

All strength left her legs. Her knees buckled.

Aidan hastily grasped her upper arms to keep her from sinking to the floor.

Emma gripped his forearms with desperate hands, fingers twisting the material of his sleeves. Moisture welled in her eyes. “Is he…? Did he ask Bastien to…?” End it for him? Was that why Aidan, not Bastien, had come to her? Because Bastien was too torn up over having ended his friend’s life?

“No,” Aidan hastened to assure her. “Cliff is alive.”

Tears spilled over her lashes as her chest rose and fell with harsh breaths taken to hold back sobs. “I thought you were going to tell me…” Shaking her head, she swallowed hard. “He’s okay then?”

Aidan guided her over to the sofa. “Let’s sit down, shall we?”

Nodding, she released him and sank down on the soft cushions. Her hands shook as she swiped at the tears cooling her cheeks.

Aidan retrieved a wingback chair from the corner and plunked it down across from her so he could face her. Seating himself in it, he leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “I tried something new yesterday that I hoped would help him. I teleported him to a sunny meadow on my estate in Scotland.”

Shock stole her breath, bringing a halt to the sobs. “You hurt him?” she demanded furiously. “How could you? He’s been helping you—”

Aidan held up a palm. “I didn’t hurt him. I’m a powerful healer and kept my hand on his shoulder the entire time, healing the damage the sun wrought so quickly that he didn’t feel it.”

She frowned. “You can do that?”

“Yes. I tried it first on Ethan, an immortal who is only a century old and can tolerate very little sun exposure, to confirm it would work.”

She stared at him. “So Cliff was able to stand in sunlight without it hurting him?”

Aidan smiled. “Yes. And we discovered that sunlight silences the voices as effectively as you do.”

Hope welled. “So he’s better now?”

“He’s better.”

Relief left her light-headed. Smiling, she reached out and took one of his hands. “Thank you.” That had been incredibly thoughtful. And it was a relief to know they had someone else in their corner who could help them find new ways to help Cliff.

“I was happy to do it,” he replied as if he’d done something far simpler, like let Cliff borrow his car.

“Do you think, if it gets bad again,” she asked hesitantly, “that maybe you could do it again?” Wasn’t healing the wounds of others painful for immortals?

Aidan patted her hand. “I’ve already told Cliff I’ll take him into the sunlight every day he continues to fight.” That was a hell of a thing to offer.

She clutched his hand. “Really? You would do that for him?”

“Of course. He’s my friend.”

“But doesn’t it hurt?” she asked. “I thought immortals healed others by absorbing the damage into their own bodies.”

Aidan shrugged. “I told Cliff it’s a mild discomfort at most.”

She smiled wryly, seeing through the lie. “It hurt like hell, didn’t it?”

He laughed. “Yes. The longer we stood in the sunlight, the worse the pain grew. But I can tolerate it for Cliff. He’s a good man, well worth saving.”

“I wouldn’t love him if he weren’t,” she professed with a sad smile. “Did you know he saved my life?”

Aidan shook his head, his face lighting with surprise. “No.”

“I work the day shift now but used to work nights at the network. And I was there when mercenaries bombed the original network headquarters just before dawn. I worked on sublevel 1. Part of the ground floor collapsed before I could evacuate. Something hit me on the head and knocked me unconscious. And when I woke up, I was buried beneath the rubble and couldn’t move.” She shook her head. “I didn’t even have a chance to call for help before the concrete and whatever else was piled on top of me began to shift and groan as someone lifted it away. The next thing I knew, Cliff was staring down at me, his eyes glowing bright amber while he told me not to be afraid, that he was there to help me.”

“Did you know he was a vampire?” Aidan asked curiously.

“Not with certainty.” He’d been covered in dust and debris that made him look different enough from the man in the photo Cynthia had shown her that Emma hadn’t been sure it was him until Melanie confirmed it after Cliff handed Emma over to her. “But I had heard that one of the vampires housed on sublevel 5 was a brother. And I figured he wouldn’t keep telling me not to be afraid if he were an immortal.” She remembered the mercenaries dropping down through jagged holes in the ceiling as Cliff spirited her away. “I wouldn’t have made it out of the building alive if Cliff hadn’t saved me.”

“So that’s how you two met.”

She grinned. “Yes, but he doesn’t remember it. I was pretty unrecognizable when he found me.” She opted not to mention the torture he’d endured shortly thereafter that had deprived him of the memory.

Aidan drew a piece of paper from his front pocket and handed it to her along with a small box.

“What’s this?” she asked as she took them.

“Cliff asked me to speak with you.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“He’s worried he’s going to hurt you.”

“He won’t,” she countered. “I’ve already told him he won’t hurt me. I’m sure of it. But he—”

Aidan held up a hand. “You didn’t see him yesterday, Emma. You didn’t hear his thoughts. And you’ve never seen a vampire who has completely succumbed to the madness and lost all knowledge of right and wrong.”

She shook her head. “Dr. Lipton told me that—even during psychotic breaks—the other vampires have never attacked her or Dr. Machen.”

“Melanie knows about you?”

“Yes. Bastien told her Cliff and I are lovers. And she came to see me, afraid I might not understand the consequences of getting pregnant by him or that I might not understand fully what the virus would do to him.”

“Did she try to talk you out of seeing him?”

“No. She loves Cliff and wants him to find whatever happiness he can. She just wanted me to be prepared.”

Aidan sighed. “Well, Vince asked Bastien to end his life before the damage progressed too far, so we don’t really know if he would’ve attacked Melanie eventually. Cliff has held out far longer than the others but, despite his valiant efforts, is beginning to lose the battle. His greatest fear now is that he may hurt you.”

“He won’t,” she insisted and wished Cliff wouldn’t worry about that. Even when fury rose within him like magma in a volcano and erupted in the form of shouts and bellows, he never directed that anger at her.

Aidan pointed to the piece of paper she held. “That’s my cell phone number.” He pointed to the box. “And that is one of those cell phone wristwatch gadgets with voice activation. If you want to continue seeing Cliff, program my number into it and keep that watch on you at all times. And I mean all times. When the two of you are making love. When you take a shower. Never take it off.”

She frowned. “Is it waterproof?”

“Yes. And if you have even the slightest fear that Cliff is about to have a break or that he may hurt you, call me immediately. I’m a teleporter, so I can be here in half a second to protect you and help Cliff.”

Everything within Emma demanded she reject this. She didn’t need protection from Cliff. He wouldn’t hurt her. But did she really have a choice? Cliff was the one who’d sent Aidan to talk to her. “He’ll stop coming here if I don’t agree to this, won’t he?”

“Yes. He loves you, Emma. If you love him as much as you appear to, then do this for him and ease his fears. He doesn’t need those on top of everything else he’s facing.”

No, he didn’t. If this would give him some relief, she’d do it.

Nodding, she opened the box and fastened the watch to her wrist. Emma hadn’t worn a watch in years since she always had her phone with her. And she’d certainly never had a smartwatch. So it took a while and several consultations of the instruction manual for them to figure out how to add Aidan’s number and achieve voice recognition. But they finally succeeded.

“Call Aidan,” she said.

Aidan’s cell phone chirped in his pocket.

Both grinned.

“Now,” Aidan said, sobering, “here is something Cliff doesn’t know about.” Reaching into his coat, he withdrew two tranquilizer guns identical to those she’d seen the guards at network headquarters carry.

“Uh-uh,” she said. “No way. I am not going to shoot Cliff.”

“These are tranquilizer guns, already armed with darts that can sedate Cliff should the need arise.”

Shaking her head, she held up her wrist. “I don’t need those. I have this.”

“You need to have a defensive measure that Cliff doesn’t know about, Emma,” he insisted. “Once the brain damage progresses to a certain point, psychotic breaks can occur without warning. If Cliff flies into a rage and rips the watch off your arm, you’ll have to go for one of these. They’ve been specially designed for vampire hunting by the network’s weapons experts, so each can fire up to five darts. A single dart should calm him. Two will knock him out. Three will kill him. Avoid the last if at all possible.” He placed the guns beside her on the sofa. “Hide these where they will be handy in an emergency but where Cliff won’t accidentally happen upon them.”

She eyed them with dread, unable to imagine aiming one at Cliff, let alone shooting him.

“If Cliff hurts you, Emma, it will kill him. He will end it himself in a heartbeat, even if the wound is so minor you shrug it off. If you want to hold on to him, you need to ensure he can’t hurt you.”

She nodded, so inundated with despair she could barely speak. “He said I quiet the voices,” she murmured again.

Aidan nodded. “You do. But the voices are getting louder. And soon you will only dampen them a little.”

She lived in constant fear of that.

Returning his chair to the corner, Aidan headed for the front door. As he reached for the doorknob, she spoke.

“Aidan?”

He turned.

Her limbs weighted with weariness, Emma forced herself to stand and closed the distance between them. Rising onto her toes, she kissed his cheek, then hugged him hard. “Thank you for giving Cliff the sun again.” Though the tranq guns upset her, Aidan was a good man who, like her, was just trying to do whatever he could to save Cliff.

He hugged her back. “Thank you for loving him and bringing him happiness.”

If only that were enough to heal him.

Releasing him, Emma backed away.

“Are you going to see him tonight?” he asked.

“Yes. He’s supposed to come over after he and Bastien finish hunting.”

Aidan smiled. “Then you should shower and wash my scent off you. We don’t want to tempt fate.”

She laughed. “I’ll go do it now.”

As soon as he left, Emma locked the door and headed for the shower.

Cliff skidded to a halt in Emma’s front yard, dropped the duffel bag, stripped, and cleaned up within seconds. Even on his worst nights, he abided by the ritual. Just the idea of her seeing him coated with the blood of the vampires he’d slain made him cringe.

Then he smiled, thinking of the night she’d peeked through the blinds and caught him.

Her eyes had widened. And when she’d opened the front door and stepped out onto her porch, the look of baffled astonishment on her face had made him grin. “Hi, beautiful,” he’d called, buck naked in the moonlight. He had just finished wiping off every speck of blood and hadn’t yet put on clean clothes.

Mouth hanging open, she’d shaken her head. “What… is happening? Are the voices telling you to streak now?” she’d asked incredulously.

Cliff had burst out laughing.

“Seriously, did you just run all the way here with no clothes on? Because if you did, you’re going to have to tell me what route you took so I can go kick the ass of every woman who saw you naked. That body is mine.”

Once he’d gotten his mirth under control, he had grudgingly confessed that he always changed clothes before he saw her and why.

She’d told him he didn’t have to. He’d insisted he did. It remained vitally important to him that he keep the violence of the hunt separate from his time with her.

So here he stood again, naked on her front lawn.

Cliff swiftly garbed himself in clean clothes, headed up the stone walkway, and rang the doorbell. Emma had tried to give him a key, but he drew comfort from the routine of it… and wanted to leave her the choice of whether she felt like seeing him and dealing with his insanity. He would think that sooner or later she was going to need a break.

The door swung open.

Emma smiled up at him and greeted him with a kiss as she always did. “Hi, honey.”

As he entered, however, a new scent reached his nose. He drew in a deep breath and held it as she closed the door. Turning to face her, he studied her carefully. “Aidan was here.”

Her pretty face crinkled up with consternation. “Yes. And let me just say that sometimes your heightened senses freak me out a little. Do you know how creepy it is that he can smell me on you?”

Cliff stared at her. “He told you that?”

“Yes, when I asked how he knew we’d been seeing each other.”

“Oh. I figured he’d probably just seen you in my thoughts.”

“He said that, too.” She scowled. “He better not have seen any hot naked times.”

That gave him pause. “If he did, I’m sure he skimmed past them. He’s a good guy.”

“Yeah. I think so, too.” She bit her lip. “Ooh. I hope he wasn’t reading my thoughts the first few minutes I spoke with him.”

“Why? What were you thinking?”

She titled her chin up in a gesture of defiance. “That if he was here to tell me I shouldn’t see you anymore, he could go fuck himself.”

Cliff would smile over that later. Right now, however, his attention fell to her wrist and stayed there. Setting the duffel bag down, he gently clasped her hand and her elbow and raised her forearm so he could study the new smartwatch. He’d never owned such a device and wasn’t sure how they worked. The watches he wore were standard fare, inexpensive and easily replaced since vampires shattered them periodically.

The watch that now graced Emma’s slender wrist, however, was sleek and black with a numberless face that boasted dancing flames.

He met her gaze, uncertain of her response to the gift and his friend’s visit.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she said softly, nodding at the watch. “It isn’t necessary.”

“Yes, it is.”

Moving closer until her body nearly touched his, she stared up at him. Love and certainty gleamed in her brown eyes. “You aren’t going to hurt me, Cliff.”

How he wished he shared her confidence. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” she countered, her voice still soft and full of affection. “You aren’t going to hurt me. And you don’t frighten me even when you fly into a rage. Does it startle me sometimes?” She smiled. “Yes. Because that deep, sexy voice of yours can get loud. But whatever horrible things are going on up there”—she tapped his forehead—“will only ever hurt me if they drive you to harm yourself.” Arching a brow, she gave him a stern look. “And if that ever happens, I’m telling you right now that I’m going to paddle your ass and give those voices a stern talking to.”

Relieved that she wasn’t angry over his sending Aidan to her, Cliff drew her into a tight hug and buried his face in her hair. “Damn, I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Snuggling into him, she released a contented sigh. “But I’m dead serious about paddling your ass.”

Cliff laughed.

“How was your day?”

“A lot like yesterday. Not great in the beginning because I couldn’t sleep.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, taking comfort in the familiar scent of coconut oil. “But Aidan took me into the sunlight again.”

She tilted her head back. “It really doesn’t hurt?”

“Not at all. I feel like shit though because I know it hurts him.”

“He wouldn’t do it if he didn’t want to, Cliff.”

“I know.”

“And it quiets the voices?”

“Yeah. At least it has both times we tried it. Between that and working out my aggressive impulses while hunting, I feel better than I have in months.”

“Excellent. What would you like to do tonight?”

“Dinner and dancing?”

She grinned. “Dinner and dancing it is.”

They prepared a meal together, creating what Cliff hoped would be another fond memory for her. With the voices reduced to angry murmurs, he could enjoy teasing and bantering with her, stealing kisses and caresses while he put together salads and she whipped up some fettuccine Alfredo.

They ate at the coffee table, sitting cross-legged on the floor across from each other, knees touching. Cliff smiled and nodded as she told him about her day. He laughed when she relayed Cynthia’s description of Todd’s latest attempt to spice up their love life with more role-playing.

“Where does he get these ideas?” he asked around a chuckle.

She shook her head. “He knows she likes historical romance novels.”

“So he thought a full suit of armor would be sexy?”

She laughed. “Until he fell down and couldn’t get back up again because it was so damn heavy.”

Once they cleaned the dishes and tucked away the leftovers—activities so wonderfully domestic that he didn’t find them tedious as some did—they took her phone and Bose speaker out onto the front porch.

Emma donned some sneakers while Cliff programmed a playlist with both fast and slow songs. Then he led her down the steps, onto her front lawn, and drew her close.

They danced for almost an hour before the cursed voices rose in volume.

Sensing the change in him, she took his face in both hands and drew him down for a kiss. “Take me, Cliff. I want you.”

He wanted her, too. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her inside and lowered her to the bed. He wanted to go slow. Wanted to remind her of the tenderness of which he was capable. Wanted to show her the reverence and adoration he felt for her. But the fucking voices kept bellowing in his ears. Fury and frustration rose as he fought to block them out. And desperation once again roughened his touch.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured afterward, his body curled around hers. “I wanted to go slow. To be gentle.”

Reaching back, she rested a hand on his hip and urged him tighter against her. “Three orgasms, honey,” she mumbled as sleep crept up on her. “Three orgasms.” She sighed. “You’re the only man on the planet who would apologize for that.”

Because she deserved so much more than he could give her.

“Love you,” she breathed.

“I love you, too.”

Sleep claimed her.

Cliff held her as long as he could before the fury and aggression within him approached dangerous highs. Slipping silently from the bed, he dressed, grabbed his duffel, and left.

A sojourn in sunlight and slaying multiple vampires had only given him a few hours’ respite from the voices and the violent impulses they inspired.

What would happen when those few hours were reduced to mere minutes?

The question haunted him long after he returned to the network.