by Ella Summers
“I thought you were dead,” she said, slouching with relief.
“It takes more than a few vampires to kill me.” He looked around, his eyes widening when he saw the vampire parts everywhere. “How long was I out?”
“Half a minute or so?” She hadn’t been keeping track of time. She’d been too busy punching him to life.
Kai glanced over at her. “I don’t feel any more of them coming. Thankfully. Your magic is like catnip for monsters.”
“And dragons?”
“Yes.”
Wow. “I was just teasing.”
“I know. And I was serious.” He stared at her, his gaze snagging on the hemline of her skirt. Magic ignited in his eyes.
“You’re appreciating my clothing again, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m appreciating you. The clothing is merely enhancing my appreciation.”
“I’m going to throw that Edwards fellow responsible for these outfits into the fighting pit,” she grumbled. “And, just for the record, the vampires didn’t come here for me.”
Before she could start pointing fingers, the commandos rushed into the room. Their eyes panned across the battlefield, taking in the dead vampires. The rest of them couldn’t have looked much better. Sera’s clothes were torn and bloody. Again. How long had her new clothes lasted? Half an hour? Less? Geez, that had to be a new record. She sure had rotten luck when it came to clothing. And monsters. It was a good thing the hotel didn’t run out of hot water for showers.
“It looks like we missed the party,” Tony commented.
“Boss, you must have really been pissed off this time,” Callum said, picking up a vampire hand.
Kai gave them a dark look. The commandos looked away.
“It wasn’t him,” Blackbrooke said, standing. His beady eyes snapped to Sera. His finger shook as he pointed it at her. “It was her.”
Dal snorted. “Oh, it all makes sense now. Sera has an uncanny ability to make messes.”
“But not clean them up,” Callum added, grinning.
It was Sera’s turn to shoot them a dark look. Unfortunately, it didn’t have the same effect as Kai’s had. Maybe because she couldn’t make magic pulse in her eyes. Tony gave her a manly slap on the back along his way to check on Blackbrooke. Callum and Dal exchanged chuckles, then began to deal with the mess she’d made.
Kai left them to it, joining Sera by the window. He stopped beside her and folded his arms across his chest. She looked at him. Blood was dripping down his arms, splattering his shoes. She turned and moved in for a closer look. His chest was bleeding. His arms were bleeding. Hell, every corner of his body was bleeding.
“You’re injured,” she said.
“I’m fine.”
“You were dead. You’re not fine.”
“I wasn’t dead,” he said. “I was regenerating.”
“You’re full of shit, Kai.”
Satisfaction slid across his face. “You were worried about me.”
“Of course I was worried. A dozen vampires swarmed you. They tore at you.” She shuddered at the memory. “You weren’t breathing.”
Humor danced in his eyes. “I’ve been swarmed by many dozen vampires and survived.”
“This isn’t funny,” she snapped at him. “This is no time for jokes. You nearly died.”
A chuckle rumbled deep in his throat. “But I didn’t. And you always find time for jokes.”
“This is different.”
He brushed his hand down her face. “You were really that scared?”
“I was petrified,” she told him. “I thought you wouldn’t wake up.”
“That jolt of lightning you gave my heart could have woken the dead.”
His eyes met hers, the look in them so intense that they seared her soul. His magic lapped against hers like the tide at midnight. She closed her eyes, letting it wash over her. His hand had moved to her lower back. It began to knead loose a cluster of tense muscles that had been bothering her all day. Suddenly, just as a soft gasp brushed past her lips, he dropped his hand.
“Take Mr. Blackbrooke back to his hotel. Stay with him until his security arrives,” Kai called over her shoulder, presumably to the commandos.
When the footsteps had grown distant, Kai looked down to her. “The vampires went straight for Duncan. They didn’t seem interested in either of us.”
“I noticed that too,” she said, disappointed that he didn’t resume his massage. Her back felt like it had gone through a trash compacter, then been fed to a flock of seagulls. “Why do you think that is? If the people controlling the Blood Orb are targeting the Magic Council, wouldn’t they be after you as well?”
Kai looked around, like he expected the villains in question to be hiding in some dark corner nearby. “Come with me. We need to talk somewhere less exposed.”
By the time they reached the hotel, most of Kai’s wounds had healed. And by the time they stepped through the door to his suite, there wasn’t a scratch on him. It must have been nice to have turbo-charged dragon healing.
Even though the wounds themselves were healed, blood still clung to his body like warpaint. As soon as they were inside, Sera rushed to the kitchen sink and filled a bowl with warm water. She carried the bowl and a stack of white towels over to the table. Why did hotel towels always have to be white?
Because they don’t expect their guests to use them to wash their battle wounds, said the voice in her head.
Sera mentally hushed it and turned her attention to Kai. “Sit,” she ordered.
To her surprise, he obeyed. That didn’t stop a smug smile from tugging at his mouth.
“Something funny?” she asked, soaking the first towel in the water.
“You’re cleaning my wounds.”
“You don’t have any wounds. They’re all healed,” she replied. “I’m cleaning the blood left by your former wounds.”
“There’s blood on you too.” He pointed at her arms.
“I think that’s your blood actually. From when I was jolting you awake.”
He caught her hand and tugged gently, until her arm was in front of his nose. “Yes.”
“You can smell your own blood?”
“Yes.” He inhaled deeply. “My blood and a touch of your essence.”
She gave him a puzzled look.
“Your sweat, Sera. I smell your sweat mixed in with my blood.”
“Oh. Well, I was fighting and…” She pulled her arm away. “Whatever.” Why was she even defending herself? He knew people sweated during a fight, especially a fight to the death against dozens of vampires. “Well, I’m glad you find my sweat funny,” she finished, frowning at him.
“I don’t find your sweat funny. I find your scent invigorating.”
Danger! Danger! warned the voice in her head. Or was that just her normal thoughts?
“Oh,” she said. “Then why were you smiling?”
“I was amused by the futility of this.” He indicated the growing stack of blood-stained towels. “It would make more sense for me to step into the shower and wash all the blood away there.” Magic boiled in his eyes, tart and tempting. “You could join me.”
“No.” She dunked the next towel into the bowl. “There will be no showering. And no joining.” She wiped the towel across his arm, focusing her eyes on the blood she had to clean. The blood and nothing else.
They didn’t say anything more for the next few minutes. His eyes were probably doing that magic-pulsing thing, but she wasn’t looking. She had employed the tunnel-vision defense. She saw nothing but blood and torn clothing and bloody torn clothing, none of which could possibly be the least bit tempting.
Finally, she was finished. She carried her pile of bloody towels and her big bowl over to the kitchen sink and dumped them in. She probably should have called the cleaning staff to come get them, but she wasn’t in the mood to answer questions about the bloody towels. Maybe Kai was right. Maybe he should have just taken a shower. Alone. Not with her. And especially not w
ith soap sliding over naked flesh.
Sera shook her head, trying to exile the images. Her mind was so far in the gutter that she couldn’t even see the light anymore. She needed to stop fantasizing about Kai naked. And her naked with him. She washed the blood off her arms, then walked back to the table.
“Ok, so I guess I’ll be going,” she said, keeping her gaze locked on the empty space over his right shoulder.
“We still need to talk about the vampires,” he reminded her.
“Oh? How about tomorrow? When we’re rested.” And not fresh off an adrenaline high. Adrenaline highs only ever led to doing stupid, reckless things. “It’s been a long day. I should stretch out some before bed.” She reached her arms behind her back, pulling them against each other. Something popped and pain shot up her neck. She cringed.
“You’re injured,” he said.
“No, I’m fine. Just a few pulled muscles and some sore spots. Between today’s matches and our fight with the vampires, my body is finished. Dal was too busy sweeping up vampire bits to heal me. And Blackbrooke ran off before I could make him do it.”
“Make him?”
“You know, sit on him and yank his arm behind his back until he agreed to heal me,” she said.
“I can do a bit of healing myself,” Kai told her. “And you don’t even have to sit on me.” He smirked. “Unless you want to.”
“That’s ok,” she said, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. “You’re still too weak.”
He caught her hand as she stood. “I’m a mage who turns into a dragon and steps on monsters. I can handle a few pesky vampires and still have enough power left to heal you.”
He got to his feet, and before she could say another word, he was behind her, massaging her back. Soothing magic eased out of his fingertips. Her muscles relaxed into a pool of hot liquid mush, melting under his touch. His hands worked her back in deep, powerful strokes, kneading the tense magic out of her. Her magic slipped away, drifting lazily until it met his. And then it sizzled.
“Sera,” he said, his voice deep and husky.
“Mmm?”
“Is that an issue of Mages Illustrated in your bag?”
Her eyes snapped open. She looked down at her sports bag. Sure enough, an issue of Mages Illustrated was peeking out of the top. The issue with him on the cover. Topless. Her liquid muscles tensed again.
“Naomi,” she grumbled.
“Pardon?”
“She’s been teasing me with this magazine for weeks now. She must have stuffed it in there this morning.” Sera was happy her back was to him so he couldn’t see her burning face. Mortification didn’t even begin to cover how she felt right now. If they’d still been in the room with those piles of vampire parts, she’d have hidden herself under one.
“I see,” was all Kai said. His tone was neutral. Without seeing his face, she couldn’t tell how he felt about this—and she was too embarrassed to look at him.
“I don’t, uh…stare at that picture or anything…” Though she couldn’t claim she didn’t ogle the real thing. “…not that it’s not a good picture of you…um…” Stupid, stupid, stupid. She cleared her throat. “This isn’t going quite as well as it did in my head.”
He snorted.
“So, those vampires, you say?” she asked. The best cure for mortification was to change the subject. Immediately. “Why do you think they went after Blackbrooke and not you?”
“Perhaps he was just the easier target. Or perhaps he is the target and not the entire Magic Council.”
His hands hadn’t stopped massaging her back, not even when she’d stumbled through that weak explanation of the magazine. Her muscles were starting to relax again.
“Why him?” she asked.
“He is the Game Architect,” Kai replied. “The one who makes our mages stronger. The Convictionites might see his continued survival as a threat.”
“More so than the dragon who could wipe out their entire organization in a single swoop?”
“They are too big. I couldn’t do it in a single swoop. Maybe two or three,” he added, a smile carrying through his words.
“And so modest too.”
“You were the one who claimed I could do it in a single swoop.”
“I was teasing.”
He paused. “You do that a lot.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Maybe I like you,” she said, turning her head to give him a silly wink.
“Sera.”
The seriousness in his voice stilled her next teasing remark. She turned around all the way, facing him. The look on his face was almost as painful as it had been when Finn had slapped the Priming Bangles on his wrists and sucked out his magic.
“I like you too,” he finally said, the back of his hand brushing her cheek.
She’d known he was attracted to her, but when he said he liked her now, it sounded like this was more than just him appreciating her body.
“And that hurts you?” she asked cautiously.
“Watching you in the Games is…unsettling. I don’t wish for you to be hurt. In body or mind. The Magic Council is digging into your past. They are determined to figure out why you’ve been hiding your magic.”
“They?” she asked. “But not you?”
“I don’t care what you are.” His finger traced up her arm. “I only care who you are. And you aren’t a threat to them.”
“I overheard your conversation with Blackbrooke.” She caught his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. “I know you’ve been trying to protect me from them.”
“I brought you here,” Kai said. He sounded disgusted with himself.
“You didn’t have much of a choice. Neither of us did.” She sighed. “The world isn’t big enough that I could hide from the Magic Council, not once they found out about my magic. And they would have come for you if you’d tried to help me.”
“Let them come,” he growled, agitation pulsing through his magic.
She leaned in, rising to her tiptoes to whisper into his ear, “Thank you. For all your help. I know I let my sarcasm get in the way, well, pretty much always, but I wanted you to know I am grateful for your help. I wouldn’t have made it this far if you hadn’t helped me control my magic. Well, kind of control my magic.”
“You’re better at it than you think,” he told her, his breath dissolving against her cheek. “Your magic is strong. And the stronger a mage’s magic is, the more difficult it is to control it.”
“Thank you,” she said again, kissing him lightly.
As she pulled back, their eyes met. He traced his finger along her shoulder and down her arm. He paused when it reached her hand, lingering on her wrist. His eyes never left hers. They watched her closely as he slid his magic across hers, nudging it gently. She gasped. Smiling, he brushed it against her again, this time with a little extra push. His mouth swallowed her second gasp, and he pulled her closer. His hands, lips, and magic worked in unison, massaging her body in slow, sensual strokes.
“Kai,” she moaned.
His hands slid across her back, under her top. He peeled the torn garment off of her and tossed it to the floor.
“I was disappointed when our date was cut short the other night,” he said, his lips teasing her ear.
“So was I.” She reached around him, alleviating him from the burden of his ruined shirt too. A smirk tickled her lips. “All we got to do was dance.”
“You dance beautifully.” His gaze intensified. “You are beautiful,” he added, his fingers teasing her through her lace bra.
Heat flooded her, rushing over her breasts, licking her skin as it cascaded down her body. His magic danced lower, sliding down her sides, down to her hips. His hands followed in its wake, burning the skin already taunted by magic. Slipping his hand under her skirt, he caressed her inner thigh in languid strokes, slowly inching upward. One of his fingers brushed against her panties. He stopped, and her breath caught in her throat.
“
Only if you’re ready,” he said, looking her in the eye.
She resisted the urge to grab his hand and put it where it belonged. “Of course I’m ready,” she said, her voice thick and rough. Oh god, what am I doing? “I’ve been ready since you massaged me.”
He kissed her lips, her jaw, her neck. “I’ve been ready since you first strolled into my life, that badass mercenary with a big sword and even bigger mouth,” he whispered into her ear. His magic crashed into hers, flooding her body.
“What are you doing to me?” she gasped, the heat between her legs growing.
The corner of his mouth drew upward, his smirk cocky and even a bit mischievous. Her head spun, dizzy from the rush of his magic. His magic’s touch was feather-soft but daring. It teased every dip and curve of her body, leaving her squirming for more.
“Touch me,” she pleaded, her breath stuttered.
“No.”
“No?”
His smirk grew more devilish. “I’m having way too much fun,” he said and poured more magic across her body.
“Fine,” she growled, picking up the broken pieces of her self-reserve. “But two can play at that game.”
She uncurled her magic toward him. She started at his neck—teasing the skin in soft, light ripples—then his shoulders. As she slid her magic lower, kissing the ridges of his sculpted chest, she went deeper. She saturated him inch by delicious inch. His muscles grew taut under her caress. His magic flared up, engulfing her. His scent, potent and thick with masculine spice, burned against her like hot ice.
“Sera,” he growled, nipping her lip.
He tugged roughly at her skirt, pulling it and her panties off. His hands had forgotten his earlier refusal to touch her. One slid around her butt, gripping her hard. The other slipped between her legs, his fingertip tracing her curves. Fire flooded her, hot and liquid. It collided with her magic, rocking her whole body. She rubbed her body against his, moaning in frustration when the brush of denim against her thighs reminded her that he was still dressed from the waist down.
“Too many clothes,” she muttered, fighting with his belt.
Finally, she got it loose. She hooked her fingers under his clothes, lowering into her knees to slide them down his legs. As she rose, she kissed her way up, in slow, languid strokes. He groaned, deep and primal, like an ancient predator. Like a dragon. His hands reached down to catch her, pulling her roughly into his arms. He carried her off toward the bedroom, his kisses impatient, his hands bold. They reached the bed, and he lowered her onto it with surprising gentleness considering the fervor of his caresses.
