Arcane Kiss (Talents Book 1)

by Knight, Angela

  Ford’s eyes blazed Feral gold, his face twisted in terror, rage and anguish. “Do it!”

  Dave’s paw slapped Kurt hard across his manifestation’s muzzle. His claws were retracted, but it was still a stunning blow, with all the tiger’s great power behind it. Had it not been for Kurt’s shell, it would have broken his neck.

  “Don’t kill him, Goddamnit!” Dave snapped. “Ford’s death would activate the fucking spell! It’s what they want! Do you want to kill us all?”

  Kurt recoiled. Oh, hell, he’s right. But Stoli didn’t care. He wanted to watch his enemy die -- die for killing Fred, die for threatening Gen and Dave, die for all the men he’d killed.

  “Your daddy begged me like a pussy for his life,” Ford sneered, his face white. “He was gutless. He wasn’t even a fit sacrifice!”

  Kurt screamed in rage, and the sound emerged as a shattering roar. In the back of his mind, the voice of sanity cried, I can’t! I’ll kill us all…

  But the rage did not give a shit.

  Kurt started to fall on Ford…

  And his father’s voice spoke. Not a memory, not a voice in Kurt’s head, but his voice, as if Fred was standing right beside him. “You know how to control your cat. Don’t let this bastard win!”

  The sheer shock of it jarred him back to sanity like a bucket of cold water in the face. Swallowing, Kurt closed his eyes, wrestling with Stoli’s fury. The tiger fought him, wild with rage and bloodlust.

  If we kill him, Genevieve will be the one to suffer. Her life will be destroyed. She’s our mate. She’s part of us. We have to protect her. Stoli’s rage began to drain.

  Rolling to his feet, Dave sank his jaws into Virgil’s shoulder and dragged him back, ignoring the killer’s shout of pain. The man kicked and fought and bellowed as the tiger hauled him toward the arena’s open gate.

  Kurt looked around, instinctively seeking his father’s ghost. “Dad?”

  There was no answer.

  Of course not, idiot. That was Dave. It had been one of those magical vocal tricks the furry smartass loved. And it’s a damn good thing he suckered me, or I would’ve killed us all.

  As Dave dragged Virgil past Genevieve and Indigo’s body, the assassin got a look at his wife and howled like a banshee. “Indy! Indigo!” He began to fight in earnest despite the pain, thrashing savagely as he struggled to wrench free of Dave’s grip. His yells of grief and fury became a screech of agony again as Dave clamped down harder. Kurt heard a crunch. Ford went limp as the tiger dragged him from the circle.

  Safely beyond it, Dave pinned the killer down with one big paw, opened his massive jaws, and enclosed Ford’s head in his teeth.

  For a moment Kurt thought he was going to bite down, but then Dave’s voice sounded. “Try to manifest, motherfucker, and I’m going to find out how your brain tastes.”

  Kurt dropped his head and stood still, concentrating on controlling his anger. That was way, way too close.

  When he was confident he wouldn’t lose it again, his gaze sought Genevieve. He froze.

  She lay limp in the circle in a pitiful heap, not far from Indigo’s bloody corpse. It was a damn good thing the Arc terrorist’s magic wasn’t great enough to power the spell, or they would’ve been fucked.

  “Genevieve,” he said, and started toward her. She didn’t move. Terror stabbed his heart, and he broke into a run. Falling to his knees beside her, Kurt pressed two fingers against her throat.

  To feel her pulse throb beneath his fingers.

  Alive. He sagged in relief. She’s still alive, but she needs an ambulance. And I need a cell phone. Kurt patted his back pocket, but it was empty -- his cell probably still lay on the blanket where they’d made love. He patted Gen down, but she didn’t have one either.

  Grimacing in distaste, he moved to Indigo’s body and searched it despite the blood and gore that covered her. Stoli had done quite a job on her head.

  It turned out she did have a cell phone. It was locked, of course, but he thumbed the word “emergency” on the lock screen and listened to the beeps dialing 911.

  Crisply, Kurt filled in the county dispatcher, who told him to hang tight while she sent ambulance and county units. He hung up and returned his attention to the woman he loved.

  Gently Kurt stroked Genevieve’s cheek, then ran his fingers through the tangled red riot of her hair. She’s still alive. He could feel the heat of her magic against his skin, faint, far fainter than it should be, but it was there. “Gen, wake up. Let me see those pretty eyes.” His voice cracked, and he fought to control it. Oh God, let her be all right!

  Her eyes flickered beneath closed lids, then finally opened. “Kurt?” She blinked as if she couldn’t quite focus.

  Relief rolled through his chest. “Yeah, baby, it’s me. How are you feeling?”

  “Don’t talk… so loud.” Genevieve closed her eyes and licked her lips. “My head feels like it’s… going to split open.”

  “I’m not surprised. That was a hell of a chance we took.”

  “The spell!” Her eyes flew wide and she tried to sit up, then sucked in a gasp of pain. Tenderly, he pushed her back down as she clutched at him. “Did they set off the…”

  “No. We stopped it. Indigo’s dead. Ford’s still alive -- barely. Dave dragged him outside the circle.” Kurt smiled grimly. “Broke the bastard’s shoulder, judging by the crunch.”

  She went back down with a groan of relief. “I’m surprised you let him live.”

  “Believe me, I was tempted.” He grimaced. “Dave told me that if I killed the fucker, it would activate the spell.”

  Genevieve’s eyes flew wide in horror. “What?”

  “Yeah. Evidently you were right -- it just required that a melded Feral die. Anybody would have done -- me, Dave or Ford.” He picked up her hand, small and cool within his, with barely any magic to it at all. He was pretty sure the magic would come back, but he had no idea how long it would take. “And I wanted to kill him anyway. Not just for Dad or those cops, but for what they tried to do to you.” He bent over her and kissed her with exquisite care, just a brush of his lips on hers, afraid to cause her any more pain.

  Gen made a little sobbing sound against his mouth, and he started to pull away. Her hand caught the back of his head. “No,” she breathed. “No, kiss me.”

  So he did, savoring the taste of her mouth, the petal soft texture of her lips. Worry nudged him into breaking off the kiss to look down at her. “Other than your head, are you hurting anywhere else?”

  Genevieve swallowed, drawing his attention to the dried blood on her slender throat. “Scratches here and there. Nothing bad.” Her eyes slipped close. “But I wouldn’t turn down a couple of Excedrin.”

  In the distance, his tiger hearing detected the wail of approaching sirens. “Sounds like your Excedrin is on the way.”

  She stirred, but he held her down gently. “Speaking of cops, where are the guys who were supposed to be guarding BFS?”

  “I have no idea. But it’s not a good sign that none of them put in an appearance during the fight. I’m sure people heard the roaring for miles around, much less inside the park.”

  Genevieve looked sick. “The terrorists killed them.”

  Kurt was very much afraid they had. “Let’s hope not.” His instincts demanded he stay with Genevieve, but he was fairly sure she was all right. He was less sure about the cops. “I’d better go check. Will you be all right?”

  “I’m fine, just a headache.” She grimaced. “A really bad, bad headache. But the terrorists are down, so we should be safe.”

  Kurt nodded and rose to his feet to head for the gate, where Dave sat patiently. He had one paw planted on the terrorist’s chest, but he no longer clamped Ford’s head in his jaws. “How’s the prisoner?”

  “Unconscious.” Dave sounded more than a little smug.

  “Couldn’t happen to a nicer asshole. You’d probably better get off him. We don’t want to set off the cops.”

  “Good point.
How’s Gen?”

  “Nursing a headache, and damn lucky she didn’t get her throat cut.”

  “I noticed.” He flicked an ear. “The po-po are pulling into the drive. Come to think of it, you’d probably better stay put. If you go wandering around in the dark, somebody might shoot you.”

  That, too, was a damn good point. He turned around and headed back to Genevieve. He couldn’t help those poor cops faster than the EMTs anyway.

  Assuming they could be helped.

  * * *

  As they’d suspected, the cop and the two FBI agents assigned to guard BFS were dead. They’d had their throats slit or their necks broken. Their bodies were still warm, as if they’d been eliminated just before the terrorists had shown up in the arena.

  Genevieve went to the hospital with Kurt to be checked out, but it turned out neither of them had sustained any serious injuries that couldn’t be taken care of with a few stitches.

  Kurt drove them home a couple of hours later, his hands light on the wheel.

  Genevieve eyed him and felt some of her lingering tension drain. Grief still hung over him -- and probably would for a while -- but the anxiety caused by the terrorists’ threats had lifted.

  She felt considerably lighter herself. “The good news is, with Indigo dead, her spells will be easier to break.”

  He flicked a glance at her as he stopped at a red light, concern in his glowing eyes. “I thought it was drawing its power from the earth’s magic. Are you sure it’s going be that easy?”

  Genevieve shook her head. “I just used those same sigils myself, remember? They draw part of their energy from their caster, which means Indigo’s death should create a weakness I’ll be able to use to dismantle it. I won’t know for sure until I give it a shot tomorrow. I’d like to try now, but I really need to recharge first.”

  Kurt flashed her a wicked grin. “I’ll be happy to help.”

  “I’m sure you would. And I’m looking forward to it.”

  His smile faded. “What about the other spells? Will you have to travel around the country to take all of them down?”

  “I sent the sigils to our FBI contact, along with an explanation of what they do. I don’t think the Fed Arcanists will have a problem. Hell, they’ll probably be able to take them down faster than I will.”

  “Yeah, but some of those spells have been around for months, getting stronger the whole time.”

  “Could be. It may take several Arcs working together to dismantle the older ones. Still, I won’t be surprised if they’re not all down by this time tomorrow.” She shrugged. “Though I thought that the last time, and it turned out I was wrong. I’ll do my best to dispel the arena casting before the funeral.”

  Kurt grimaced. “Speaking of the funeral, that’s going to be a madhouse. The reporters will be all over us. I’m going to have to give a press conference, but I’m damned if I’m going to do it tomorrow.” He curled his handsome upper lip. “The vultures can wait a day. It wouldn’t hurt them to show Dad a little respect.”

  As if on cue, his cell phone rang from the cup holder. “See who that is, would you?”

  Gen picked it up and checked the display. “It’s that guy from the Laurelton Leaf.”

  “He must have contacts on the force.”

  “Want me to answer?” she asked over the shrilling ring tone.

  “Hell no.” He hesitated a long moment before shooting her glance. “I realize I have no right to ask you this, considering the amount of time you’ve already spent away from your house and business, but would you consider staying a couple more days?”

  Gen flashed him a deliberately light grin. “Would I? I’d be downright grateful. If I try to go home, I’ll be swarmed with reporters without BFS’s gates to keep them away.” A new thought struck her, and she frowned. “How’s Dave?” She knew the tiger had used the house phone to call Kurt while they were in the ER.

  “He’s got some nasty bites and punctures. One of the EMTs bandaged them up until he could get hold of the vet.” Correctly interpreting her frown, he added, “A human doctor isn’t licensed to treat tigers.”

  “I should be able to do something for him once my magic recovers. Hopefully tomorrow -- or should I say today, given it’s 2 AM.”

  “We have got to start getting more sleep,” Kurt said.

  Genevieve took note of that “we” and smiled a little.

  Evidently reading that smile, Kurt asked quietly, “Is there a ‘we’?”

  “Do you want there to be?”

  “I asked you first.”

  “You’re the one who doesn’t believe romances with non-Ferals can work.”

  “That was what Dad thought.”

  “Given his wife, I don’t blame him.”

  Kurt hesitated. “I’ll admit, a couple of weeks ago I wouldn’t have been able to imagine a relationship with a witch. But you’ve taught me that just because my mother was a manipulative bitch doesn’t mean all Arcs are.”

  She smiled, and her heart lifted. Maybe they did have a chance after all.

  Maybe.

  * * *

  They got home to find BFS swarming with cops yet again. They’d already answered questions from a detective back at the hospital -- evidently Sawyer was busy interrogating Ford -- so they left the deputies to do their jobs and headed for the house.

  They found Dave curled up asleep in the living room, his massive red-gold body covered in bandages. Evidently the vet had made an emergency house call, stitched up his cuts and left.

  He jerked awake when they came in. “Oh, there you are. Good.” Dave searched Genevieve’s tired face with concern. “Are you okay, kid?”

  She dropped to her knees beside him and sighed. “I’m fine. Just some bruises and a couple of interesting cuts. I wasn’t the one fighting the polar bear. How are you?”

  The tiger grimaced, revealing impressive canines. “I have stitches. Lots and lots of stitches.”

  Genevieve nodded. “Yeah, I gathered that from all the bandages. I’ll heal you up in the morning, or the afternoon, or whenever I get enough juice to do it.”

  He nodded. “I’d appreciate that.”

  “You need any water or anything?” Kurt asked.

  “Nah, the vet hooked me up. Phone’s been ringing off the hook with calls from reporters ever since you left.” He grinned. “You should’ve seen that FBI agent try to interrogate me. I’ve never seen somebody try to be a hard ass while looking so thoroughly spooked. It was funny as hell.”

  “You’re a scary, scary guy. You also saved my ass today, buddy. If you hadn’t been there…”

  “Well, if you’re feeling grateful, you could always find me a melded girl, and we’ll be even.” He pricked his ears forward with a sly grin. “I’m craving pussy like you would not believe.”

  Kurt shot Genevieve a look. “I feel your pain.”

  Dave laughed and slanted Gen a look, flipping his tail. “No, you don’t. You’ve got a girl.”

  When they finally headed to bed, it wasn’t to make love. They were both too battered, too drained magically and emotionally.

  Instead, they curled up together, face to face. Genevieve stared into the deep gold of Kurt’s eyes. Extending her aura, she touched him even as his fingers slid up and down her arm in feathering caresses. The touch felt so good, she closed her eyes, to see Stoli lying next to her in the darkness, gold eyes on her. He made that funny huffing little sound tigers use for a greeting, the one Kurt called a chuff.

  Last week, she probably would’ve jumped right out of bed at the sight. Today she just stroked her aura over his as if it were a hand.

  She opened her eyes just as Kurt leaned forward and took her mouth. The kiss was slow and gentle, a lush exploration of lips and tongue.

  Powerful arms wrapped around her, and she moved into them with a sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan. He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. She listened to his heart thump against her ear, slow and strong. Her hands tightened where
she gripped his arm. His biceps felt like silk-covered steel. “I came so close to losing you,” she said, her voice sounded ragged in her own ears.

  His arms tightened around her, hard and warm and strong. “But you didn’t.”

  A peaceful silence fell between them. Kurt began to comb his fingers through her curls in gentle tugs. “I love your hair.”

  She smiled, and slid her hand down to the center of his chest to tangle in the soft curls there. “I love yours, too.”

  “You sure you don’t want me to shave?”

  “Nah. Tigers are supposed to be a little fuzzy.”

  “Well, I am that.” Stroking her shoulders in slow caresses, he relaxed under her. Smiling, she let the sound of his heartbeat lull her to sleep.

  * * *

  The funeral two days later was as painful as Kurt had known it would be -- though at least nobody was trying to kill them.

  The church was standing room only. It looked as if the entire town had turned out, including everybody who’d ever volunteered at BFS, along with a large contingent of grieving cops who faced painful funerals of their own over the next few days.

  Kurt managed to get through the eulogy without breaking down, mostly using the iron self-control his father taught him.

  At the internment, he accepted the folded flag from his father’s coffin with steady hands. He even managed to endure “Taps,” -- played by a bugler rather than Dave this time -- though his eyes stung.

  It helped that Genevieve wrapped her fingers around his hand and held on tight, giving him her silent support. He wished Fred had had an opportunity to get to know her better. Had a chance to see that it was possible to love without being used.

  Kurt’s mother, fortunately, was conspicuous by her absence. It seemed she’d taken his threat seriously.

  As if reaction to the anger that ran through him at that thought, Genevieve’s magic brushed against his own, cool, calming, offering comfort. He looked down at her lovely profile -- at the straight line of her nose, the curve of the soft lips he’d tasted the night before. She looked up at him, and he saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes. Her hand tightened on his in a supporting squeeze, and he felt the grip of grief ease.