Killing Time

by Elisa Paige

  I fumbled the keys into the ignition, startled by how badly I was shaking. Leaning my forehead against the steering wheel, I made myself breathe in and out. I’d just begun calming down when I realized I’d left Koda’s huge knife lying on the ground. Cursing, I hustled out of the truck and scurried around to the passenger side, having no trouble finding the blade where I’d dropped it.

  I stood over it, staring in shock, as its condition sank in to my befuddled thoughts. Once bright and keen-edged, the knife was now cracked with fissures and striations, its sheen a dull matte gray. When I picked it up, the blade disintegrated, pieces of it flaking off and falling to the parking lot’s blacktop.

  “Churrashme,” I swore, thinking of how Koda had purposely absorbed the binding’s hideous impact and wondering what it had done to his insides if this was what the knife looked like.

  Voices from the lot’s far side shook me from my stupor and I shoved the knife’s pommel in my jacket pocket. Scooting around the truck’s rear bumper, I climbed back into the driver’s seat and got us rolling. Leaning forward, I looked up through the windshield at the pall of black smoke still rising from the blazing highrise Koda and I escaped. A chill raced down my spine at the knowledge that we were mere blocks away from the weh yetar. My gut tightened as I wondered if the thing might even now be advancing on the firefighters battling the inferno. Or if it might be looking for us. For me.

  Driving across downtown Dallas, I determinedly avoided thoughts of how badly Koda was hurt. Knowing the best place to hide was in a huge city’s underbelly, in a section where even the humans went to be forgotten, I found just the place I was looking for—a motel that took only cash, rented by the hour and where everyone thrived on anonymity. I was a veteran of places like this, having learned that they made for the best retreats.

  Pulling into the lot and driving erratically, I pointed the pickup sideways in front of the pay window, making the tires bark when I stopped. Messing up my already messy hair, I shrugged out of my jacket before climbing down from the truck. Using the open door as a screen, I tore off the lower half of my sliced-up T-shirt, exposing my flat midriff and narrow waist. Letting my camouflage drop just enough that the bruises and some of the soot would be visible to the human clerk, I staggered like a drunk up to the bullet-proof window, blinking owlishly at the pot-bellied male.

  “Need a woo…” I frowned as if I was having to concentrate. “A woo…”

  “A room?” the pock-marked guy supplied, letting his gaze linger on my breasts. “You all by yourself, baby? You want some company? I’ll trade you. A room for a little fun.”

  I beamed a bleary smile at him. “Got a friend in the pick…in the pick…In the truck. We wan’ party.” I bit my lower lip. “Y’know. Party?”

  Running a calloused hand through his greasy hair, the guy shook his head dismissively. “Yeah, I know. How long you and your friend gonna need?”

  I waved a vague hand. “I dunno. Watsa cost?”

  Bored now and wanting to return to the porn magazine on the counter in front of him, the clerk scowled. Eyeing the custom pickup and looking scornfully at my beaten-up appearance, he snapped, “You got money?”

  I brightened. “Yeah. My friend, he gave me some.” Pulling a wad out of my back pocket, I made a show of studying the bills up close, like I couldn’t focus my eyes.

  The guy licked his lips greedily. “Eighty’ll do it. I’ll tell the maids to skip your room for another twenty.”

  Maids, my alabaster ass, I thought.

  “You will?” I gushed, staggering against the money drawer the clerk pushed open and shoving a hundred dollars into it. “Tha’s nice, sugar. Tha’s awful nice.”

  Retracting the drawer, the guy reached in and pulled out the money. “Whatever.” He dropped a key into the drawer and pushed the lever to extend the drawer on my side. Staying in character, I fumbled around before taking the key out and almost dropping it twice.

  Knowing I’d been dismissed, I shuffled back to the truck and made a show of grinding the gears, grateful that Koda was unconscious and couldn’t hear what I was doing to his transmission. In fitful stops and starts, I drove around to the back of the one-floor, hot-sheet motel and parked outside the door to room eleven. There were only three other vehicles, but it was early evening still—plenty of time for the prostitutes who frequented the twenty-room dump to find customers and bring them here for some one-on-one time.

  Eyeing the parking lot’s one street light, I pulled out the useless knife pommel. Making sure no one was around, I threw the thing, swallowing a crow of triumph when the globe shattered. The sun would take another hour to set, but I wanted the parking lot to be dark when night fell, just in case we had to make a quick escape. It would also make Koda’s black truck a little harder to spot—if it wasn’t stolen before morning, I’d be amazed.

  Retrieving the pommel, I returned to the pickup and swung open the back door. After another quick look around the lot, I grabbed Koda’s feet and pulled, once again grateful for the smooth leather seats since he slid easily across them. His boots touched ground and I caught him around the waist, struggling to keep him upright.

  It wasn’t far to room eleven’s door, but by the time I got Koda there, I was trembling with fatigue. It took a couple tries to get the key in the lock, but the thing finally shot home and I hip-checked the door open. The room was as ghastly as I’d known it would be, but at the moment I was too tired to care. Staggering across the hideous mustard-colored carpet, replete with cringe-worthy stains and cigarette burns, I wrestled the disgusting bedspread off one-handed and dropped it on the floor—no telling how long it’d been since the thing was cleaned or what kind of nastiness was embedded in it. Letting Koda sag onto the sheet-covered bed—still nasty, but an improvement over the bedspread—I hustled to the truck and grabbed my jacket and backpack. After locking the pickup, I went back into the motel room, shut the door and thumbed the knob’s latch.

  I leaned against the closed door and looked at Koda’s unconscious form. Even like this, with blood caked on his forehead and his skin pale rather than its usual tawny-gold shade, the man was gorgeous.

  Crossing the room, I sat beside him on the bed. Watching his chest rise and fall, I was astonished by my enormous relief that he still breathed—for a while in the truck, I’d been terrified he’d stopped. Leaning over him, I brushed the curtain of black hair from his face, grimacing to find that some of the strands were stuck in dried blood. Easing them loose, I was shocked at the tender, fiercely protective feelings churning through me to see him injured and unconscious. Without the anger and his closed expression, with his features relaxed as they were, I could see the man beneath the warrior. The Koda with the generous heart, the one who was passionately loyal to his friends. The Koda of the silken midnight hair and flashing onyx eyes, who moved with the virile grace of a panther in human form. The Koda who, judging by the laugh lines, felt great joy and smiled often.

  Touching a tentative fingertip to the lines at the corners of his mouth, I felt a pang that I’d never seen him smile. I couldn’t understand it, but it hurt that I so badly wanted to.

  I lifted my hand to cup the right side of his face, the angle of his cheekbone, the slight hollow beneath. Realizing I had no right to do this, to take such liberties with a man as proud and strong as Koda, I pulled back…and nearly shrieked when his warm hand captured mine.

  His black eyes looked bottomless as he studied me. “Why?”

  Confused, my heart racing, I stammered, “Why what?”

  He frowned as if his head hurt. Which, I realized, it probably did. “The necklace and remaining bracelet aren’t powerful enough to bind you to me. Why didn’t you leave?”

  “I don’t know.” I tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip. Swallowing noisily, I squeezed my eyes shut before forcing them open again and meeting his dark gaze. “Why did you absorb the binding’s energy? Why didn’t you let it hurt me?”

  He blinked a few times. “I don
’t know.”

  I had to laugh at the astonishment in his voice, as if he’d massively surprised himself. Changing the subject, I asked, “You okay?”

  He let go of my hand and sat up, the effort slow and painful like an old man’s. “I will be.” Koda touched the wound on his forehead, wincing. “Did you do this?”

  “No, you did.” At his arch look, I grinned. “You fell head-first into your truck’s side window.”

  He flinched. “Did I hurt the truck?”

  I snorted. “I could make a comment about your hard head, but it just wouldn’t be sporting.”

  Koda eased himself to his feet and stood swaying, glaring at me when I offered a supporting hand.

  “Pride goeth before the face-plant,” I told him in a superior tone.

  He glowered. “If I can’t make it ten feet on my own, we have bigger problems than my unwillingness to accept help from a beautiful woman.”

  I went still, my cheeks flushing as a witty comeback froze on my lips. Koda thought I was beautiful? Koda?

  Oblivious to my damaged mental condition, he shuffled over to the window, scowling at the stained curtains before pushing them aside and looking out the dirty glass. “I wasn’t impressed by your choice of hideouts when I was tracking you,” he informed me. “I’ve no intention of staying in this one any longer than necessary.”

  “We’re leaving? But we just got here,” I protested, thinking how I’d blown a hundred dollars.

  “Which means the fleas, lice and bedbugs that call this dump home won’t have had a chance to attach themselves to either one of us.”

  “Geez, when did you become such a dandy?” I muttered, stung.

  He cranked an eyebrow at me, not deigning to comment.

  I squirmed. “They only go after humans, anyway. Not supernaturals.”

  It hit me then that I was without transportation and I grimaced, dreading what I’d have to do to get another bike. I had only the clothes I was wearing, too, meaning I’d need more cash if I wanted even a clean pair of undies to put on tomorrow.

  Koda turned away from the window to look fully at me. Taking in my expression, he swore and came to stand beside me. “I’m sorry, Sephti. It’s difficult for me, being weak. You took care of me when I could not care for myself. When it clearly would have been to your benefit to leave me where I lay.”

  I smiled, absurdly feeling shy—an emotion I couldn’t ever recall experiencing, not even once. Backing off a few feet, I used the excuse of picking up my jacket to put even more space between us. “Where do you want to go?”

  He didn’t answer right away. Watching me, he finally asked, “Have you ever stayed someplace nice? Someplace with room service and clean sheets? With endless hot water and sweet-smelling shampoo? Where the staff calls you ‘ma’am’?”

  At the image, I laughed out loud before realizing he was serious.

  His gaze sharpened as he read me correctly. Letting out a breath of air, the exhalation far too forceful to be a sigh, Koda growled, “Then it’s damn time you did.” He spun on his heel and almost went down as his balance left him.

  “Maybe I should drive,” I muttered, moving to his side.

  I’m not sure which one of us was more surprised when he laced his arm around my waist and leaned into me. I told myself I didn’t pull away only because he was injured.

  I’ve always been a lousy liar.

  Chapter Five

  I’d once heard that flashbacks of your life were supposed to happen when you were dying. That I was having vivid ones standing in the foyer of a penthouse hotel room only made it more surreal.

  The impeccably mannered, black-suited bellman who’d led the way through the palatial halls to our jaw-dropping suite bid us a well-modulated good-night as he closed the immense double doors behind him. The tiny sound of the deadbolt sliding home when Koda flipped it was absorbed by thick Oriental carpets and heavy silk draperies, as if so plebeian a sound had no place within these sumptuous walls.

  So what was someone like me doing here?

  Rooted to the marble-floored entry and peering into the impeccably decorated living room, I cringed at the idea of touching anything—while my camouflage could fool humans, it was all illusion. I was covered head-to-toe in soot, a couple days’ worth of grime, the residue of several fights and whatever nastiness I’d brushed against at the hot-sheet motel. No way was I getting near the gorgeous upholstered furniture…crap, I was terrified of leaving sooty scuff marks on the pristine floor I stood frozen on. Wondering frantically if I could make it back out the door without touching anything, I eyed the short distance between me and escape.

  The weight of Koda’s regard lifted my gaze from the acres of snowy marble and exquisite carpets. Shadows flickered in his eyes when he saw me looking at him and an awkward moment passed. He surprised me by turning away first, but not before I caught a glimpse of…what? My mind whispered vulnerability. Just as quickly, I shook off the absurd idea. Not Koda. The man was as impervious as granite.

  Clearing his throat, he dug around in a dufflebag the bellman had left on a mahogany luggage rack. Without looking up, Koda said, “Do you want to clean up first?”

  Eyeing the immaculate floor between my scuffed boots and a door I assumed led to the bathroom, I shook my head. “No way,” I muttered on a fervent breath.

  He flicked an inscrutable glance at me, his expression darkening as he took in the fact that I’d come no further into the room. He rubbed a hand across his own soot-covered face and stalked to my side. Bending over, he swiped his blackened palm across the white marble floor before straightening to meet my astonished gaze. I had to laugh at the challenge in his eyes, especially when I noticed that the corners of his mouth were twitching.

  Would wonders never cease? Koda was—almost—smiling.

  Shaking off the shock, I winced. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  He quirked a brow before turning away. “Didn’t I?”

  Watching his broad back as he walked off, I realized I was now holding my garrote-bracelet and sheathed daggers. His having returned them and then turning his back to me seemed to indicate…my brain stuttered and started up again…that maybe he…trusted me.

  Nonplussed, I re-armed myself, relieved by the familiar weights of my twin daggers and the bangle at my wrist. Feeling more like myself, I reached down and tugged off my boots, leaving them lying there as I tentatively edged into the penthouse suite in sock feet.

  Keeping my grimy hands firmly tucked into my armpits, I checked out the sumptuous tapestry-covered sofa, thinking how wonderful it would be to sink into its vast softness. Sidling further into the living area, I inhaled the sweet fragrance of fresh flowers and investigated a huge arrangement in a crystal vase before letting my gaze rove around the room. The ceilings were twelve feet tall and the walls were comprised of enormous arched windows, through which I could see what looked like a lush garden. Beautiful platinum-colored draperies were swagged back from a series of French doors that led outside.

  Seeing my interest, Koda said, “They lead to a private terrace.”

  I looked away, even more unbalanced. The knowledge that he was far more aware of me than I’d realized twined with my unease at the hedonistic luxury and sheer size of the suite. My stable had been about eight hundred square feet and held twenty-five bitterns in floor-to-ceiling bunks—bunks, ha! Shelves was more accurate. It seemed incredibly decadent not to pack this much larger place with people.

  My mind filled with images of my breath fogging on wintry mornings, of shuddering violently under the bare blanket we each were given, of the creaking soreness of rising before dawn after having tried to sleep on the unyielding boards that comprised a bittern’s bed. Looking down at the plush carpet beneath my worn socks, I let my toes dig into the thick silk weave for just a second. I hadn’t known floor coverings could be so soft, could feel so pleasant beneath my feet.

  Wrapping my arms more tightly around myself, I chewed my bottom lip—I didn’t belon
g here.

  Turning to leave, I ran into Koda as he came up behind me. He caught my elbow easily in one hand, steadying me. Clearing my throat, I disengaged and put a little space between us. “Koda, look, I—”

  “You’ve got to be hungry,” he interrupted, his tone easy but his gaze sharp and way too aware. “I’m going to get a shower and then I’ll order dinner.”

  My stomach grumbled audibly at the mention of food, bringing heat to my cheeks. I wavered. Surely, I could eat something before I left? Just a quick bite? Then my gaze drifted around the exquisite room again and I firmed up my resolve. “No, thanks. I really need to be…” My words trailed off as Koda walked away, disappearing into a doorway on the living room’s other side. “…going,” I finished lamely.

  I tore my gaze from the door he had left ajar. Food forgotten, the sound of the shower being turned on brought a flash of what he’d look like with water slicking his long, black hair, cascading along his tawny skin, streaming down his broad chest…

  “Get a freaking grip,” I growled to myself, staggered by the strength of the image and my reactions to it. Even more disconcerting was the stark realization that I hadn’t thought even once about checking the room’s perimeter or identifying escape routes. Scrubbing at my face, I drew a deep, shaky breath. “What is wrong with me?”

  Koda’s voice drifted from the other room. “You need to eat.”

  I jumped, startled that he’d heard me. Rubbing my face even harder, trying to get my brain to take a stab at some form of higher function, I gave a shaky laugh. “Yeah. That must be it.” I sighed, figuring my thready voice wouldn’t convince Koda, but at a loss as to what to do about it.

  I wandered restlessly around the living area, arms firmly crossed. A quick thought had me looking at my suspiciously less-sooty hands and I realized that—as distracted as I was—they were markedly cleaner because I’d smeared most of it all over my face.