Shadow World

by Gaja J. Kos

  “Nuh-uh, that’s all you get.” I locked my gaze on his and arched an eyebrow, then pried my gloves off one finger at a time. “You lost the privilege for more when you tipped off my quarry that I was coming.”

  The tap-tap-tap of rain intensified as a lazy smile spread across Reiner’s face. “Come on, Crina, I only made it a challenge for you.”

  “A trap you mean.”

  “Trap, challenge, does it really matter?” He thrust a hand into his bright orange hair. His choice of color was getting bolder with each month. “Surely slinking into their building in the dead of night and carving out their hearts wouldn’t have been quite as satisfactory as a fight…”

  He was right, but I’d be damned if I thanked him for selling me out like that.

  After twirling the dagger between my freshly de-gloved fingers one last time, I sheathed the blade, then squeezed myself under the overhanging cement beside Reiner. The rain sprinkled my boots, but at least the rest of me was moderately covered, if a bit cold.

  Reiner, on the other hand, was a fucking furnace.

  Werewolves were impervious to low temperatures and humidity, though I’d never come across one who actually emanated heat the way this fucker did. Then again, Reiner lived for the hunt. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if his blood ran faster thanks to his perpetual predatory state of mind.

  “So what are you doing here anyway?” I asked, discreetly shifting an inch closer. “I thought you weren’t even in town.”

  His gaze flickered over to Viktor’s illuminated apartment.

  What the—

  “You’ve got to be shitting me.” I jabbed a finger into his honed chest. “He’s mine, Reiner. Mine.”

  That lazy smile of his grew even wider. “What? Don’t want to work with me, Crina? And here I thought we were good together.”

  “In your dreams, dickhead.”

  The only things Reiner and I were good together in were sparring and sex. His wildness clashed with my slyness, which definitely conjured up interesting scenarios in the sack or whenever we wanted to blow off some steam. But not on a job. Never on a job.

  I drew my arms around myself, gaze trained on Viktor as he fumbled with his phone, and muttered, “The witches didn’t mention hiring a second specialist.”

  “Maybe they didn’t want to risk you failing.”

  “I never fail.”

  Reiner laughed, the kind of sound that I could almost grasp. Full and rich. With a dash of his free nature woven into the mix.

  He was an asshole, but he was also a damn good one to be around.

  Briefly, I contemplated breaking my word and using the cover of darkness to sate the needs Breccan’s visit had stirred. But just the thought of the demon lord had me reeling back. I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready to admit how hot and bothered he’d made me. Using Reiner, unfortunately, would mean precisely that.

  Regardless of how many orgasms the werewolf could deliver.

  I looked up at his rugged face and rolled my eyes. Amusement still danced in the corners of his lips, letting me know he was enjoying his new fail-safe role all too much. Yeah, definitely an asshole.

  He leaned against the iron door leading down from the roof, then trailed his fingers along the sleeve of my damp jacket. “So what did you learn?”

  I shivered when skin met skin.

  “If you expect me to report to you—”

  He lifted his hands in defense. “Can’t blame a were for trying.”

  On the other side of the street, Viktor finished his cognac and started stripping off the suit. Modest, the man was not. He had to know the residents of three, if not four, buildings had front-row seats to his little show. I turned my attention back to Reiner, angling myself to be just a little out of his reach.

  His desire for me pulsed through the rain-tinted air, and if it grew any more pronounced, I’d have a hard time sticking to my resolve. Cue for me to go.

  “Fine, we’re both working the same case. I’ll swallow this insult. For now.” I shot him a pointed look. “But if you as much as think about messing with me in any way just to claim the damn credit, I will hunt you down and flay you.”

  Reiner brushed his knuckles under my chin. “Keep talking like that, little demon, and I’ll make sure you have to execute that delicious threat.”

  Heat flared at his touch. I broke myself down into particles before the sensation could spread, leaving the werewolf alone on the shit-stained rooftop.

  As I sped home, a fresh bout of heavy rain assaulted my atoms. I swore, then pushed myself faster, seriously craving a cup of Irish coffee and the comfort of my bed. Beneath me, Ljubljana had grown quiet, but not peaceful.

  Or maybe that was just me.

  Pride had the tendency to get even the best of people, and on some level, I knew my reaction to Reiner’s involvement in the case had been precisely that. But damn it, I’d been spying and assassinating for Yelena since I was a kid. Of course I was offended that my employers believed I required a fucking babysitter.

  Anger struggled to break free, but what I’d told Reiner was the truth. I never failed. And I wouldn’t now.

  As long as I didn’t allow my bruised pride to take the reins.

  So instead of venting like a salty drunk on a bender, I channeled my energy into forging a plan and sifted through my options.

  With the infrared sensors, breaking and entering wouldn’t be a straightforward thing. Thanks to working my ass off when I’d first left the Shadow World and establishing steady business relationships with more than capable individuals of specific talents, I knew just the guy for the job. But since today was a Friday—the one day in the week Simon took off—my call would have to wait until morning.

  Not necessarily a bad thing.

  While having a course of action calmed me, I still needed to shrug off the lingering annoyance. Sleep was definitely an effective remedy for that particular ailment.

  Shit never was all that grim once the brain had time to reset.

  I entered my apartment through the kitchen window, then reformed, dripping water across the floor. The familiar presence of the place that might not be much, but was my very own, wrapped around me. One embrace I more than willingly stepped into.

  Fingers trailed down my back as I stood among the shadows, a ghostly wind playing with the loose strands of my hair. I closed my eyes and leaned into the touch, savoring the warmth, the way my skin seemed charged with electricity wherever the fingers bestowed their caresses.

  The exploration continued down my spine.

  My breath hitched when the path changed, the caresses now curving around my waist.

  Shit, it felt good.

  Pressure built inside me—that peculiar sensation that was caught somewhere between exhilarating and torturous—and tightened my nipples to the point of pain.

  Gods, I wanted more.

  As if hearing my plea, the hands traveled down my abdomen, lower, fingertips teasing that delicate skin just below the waist of my pants. A moan spilled from my lips. I was enveloped in energy, power, inhaled it until the intoxicating potency saturated not only my lungs but my very essence. Something dormant and long forgotten unspooled inside me, beating in tune with my heart.

  The heat that had licked at my exposed back was replaced by a wall of muscles.

  The fingers ventured lower still.

  Parted me.

  I didn’t know whose touch it was, yet there was a familiarity to it. My soul purred in answer to the whispered call.

  Two strong fingers slipped inside me, then a third, right before a chiseled, heavy arm encircled my body just beneath my breasts and pulled me close.

  “Does this please you?” The sinful voice caressed my neck.

  The voice.

  My eyes fluttered open, and I glanced over my shoulder.

  The spill of white-blond hair, the edges of a scar.

  Breccan.

  The demon lord spun me around and shifted his grip, his fingers slipping back in
to my molten core. Shadows flared. I clung to him, fighting the daze to stare into those mismatched eyes as they observed me with lust and unbarred interest.

  No, not just that.

  There was something primal in the way Breccan took me in, yet delicate.

  I did not fight the magnetism.

  My lips met his, pushing them apart to taste him, to feel his tongue against mine as those damned fingers grazed my walls. My being. Shuddering with the mind-numbing tightness that accumulated inside, I neared my release with every new stroke. My nails dug into his skin just to keep me from falling down.

  To drag him with me onto the bed of shadows when my knees would give way at last.

  We belonged there in the dark mist, concealed as pleasure ravaged my flesh.

  But Breccan was immovable.

  He coaxed the orgasm from my core, bringing his thumb on my clit to claim more just when I thought I’d given him everything already. My conscience seemed to float somewhere above me, then slammed back down when Breccan brushed the fingers slick with my climax across my lips.

  The rest of the evidence he licked away himself.

  It was then that I spotted the crown of thorns perched atop his head. As the demon lord noticed my gaze, he lay me onto the shadows. My clothes vanished before I could take a single breath to savor the ethereal bed, and my legs spread of their own volition, wishing to accommodate his glorious form.

  Breccan straddled me and slid an ornate tiara into my hair. So, so gently, his knuckles caressed my cheek, yet fire burned in the wake of his touch. He dipped his head to indulge in a lingering kiss that left me breathless, then progressed down my body in a trail of worship.

  A half smile played with the curve of his mouth. And his tongue became my undoing.

  I woke with a gasp on my lips and my hand between my thighs, slick with my own juices. Whoa.

  With a shaky laugh, I extracted myself from the compromising position. I wasn’t entirely sure whether I should be mortified or pleased.

  My body certainly felt more satisfied than it had in a long, long while. Yet at the same time, I couldn’t forget how real Breccan had been. Not his touch—that I knew was a product of my own groping—but his energy. Even now, I sensed it clearly—

  I stilled.

  His energy floated languidly on the rain-touched currents, like a lover’s perfume meant to linger. To raise suspicion.

  To taunt.

  But the apartment was empty.

  A sweep of my power confirmed no one lurked beyond my bedroom walls. And yet…

  I cast the sheets off my naked body and followed the trail of potency all the way to the kitchen, the blue fire alight at my fingertips bathing the apartment in cool light. A manila folder rested on the table, next to a thorned, blood-red rose. But even as panic clawed up my throat, I couldn’t help but notice yesterday’s dirty plate had somehow found its way to the sink.

  Whatever humor had sparked up, however, fled the instant I spotted a small card set beside the rose. A note in immaculate handwriting spelling out a single word.

  Reconsider.

  Chapter 5

  The folder wasn’t going to explode and bite me in the ass.

  At least that was what I kept telling myself as I made a massive cup of Irish coffee and leaned my bare back against the counter to glare at the damn thing. But my body refused to stand still. I bit my lip. Fuck it. I marched over, grabbed the folder, and scurried out of the kitchen.

  As Breccan’s residual energy faded, the persisting tremors annoying me lessened too. I threw the documents on the small couch where they partially spilled from the folder, then parted from the steaming cup of liquid goodness for long enough to shimmy into my plush bathrobe.

  While I was pretty certain the demon lord wasn’t about to grace me with another appearance, it didn’t hurt to be on the safe side just in case he threw another surprise my way. Dreaming about him was one thing, but I really had no desire to flaunt my nakedness in his face.

  I grimaced, eyeing the rumpled bed sheets on my way out.

  Gods, I hoped I hadn’t made any actual sounds while caught up in my wildly inappropriate fantasy. My instincts hinted it had been Breccan’s presence, not his will, that had conjured my wet dream, but in a way that made everything even worse. The last thing I wanted was for him to know he had that effect on me.

  No one was allowed that kind of power unless, like with Lena and Caz, they were mates.

  My snorting laugh broke the early morning calm.

  So what if I wanted to fuck a gorgeous demon lord who was basically sex incarnate? It was nothing but plain lust and didn’t mean shit. Now that I thought about it, my gross overreaction seemed silly.

  What wasn’t silly, however, was the fact that the bastard had slipped into my apartment without an invitation. I fastened the belt on my robe and scanned the place again while my bare feet moved silently across the floor.

  The first touch of morning light painted the sky a few shades lighter, diminishing my bed-head reflection that greeted me as my gaze lingered on the living room window. I trotted closer to the couch and peered into the kitchen—Breccan’s point of entry, based on the potency of his essence suffusing the small space.

  Yeah, as soon as I finished my coffee, I’d have a nice little session of warding the crap out of everything.

  The layered protections were good enough to keep most baddies out, but Breccan hardly fell in the most category.

  My butt sank into the slight decline on the left pillow of the couch that marked my usual spot. I curled my legs beneath me, took a few long sips to kill off the remaining uneasiness, then pressed my side against the backrest and flipped open the file.

  A huff ripped free.

  Breccan hadn’t been kidding when he said the job had nothing to do with the Shadow World. The logo staring back at me from the first page belonged to ArcaneWings, an up-and-coming airline company that had made groundbreaking progress in merging technology and magic to operate their planes. Of course, I had no intention to reconsider, as he’d put it, but it was nice to see that some demons still possessed the capability to be honest.

  And, apparently, had faith in receiving the same treatment from others, since he’d risked a lot giving me this kind of sensitive information without an agreement beforehand. I could have easily taken it to whomever he wanted to investigate for a fat paycheck. But whether he knew it or not, the lack of lies had brought him my secrecy as efficiently as any blood contract.

  I turned the page, then flipped it back as a scribble on the very last line caught my eye. The incredulous chortle that escaped me scattered as I brought the cup to my lips.

  Now this was certainly an unexpected turn of events.

  ArcaneWings was owned by none other than Breccan himself.

  Intrigued, I continued reading, familiarizing myself with the basics of his company that spanned several sheets. When dawn began to trickle through the curtainless windows in earnest, I padded into the kitchen, folder and coffee in hand.

  While the space wasn’t quite as open as the living room where I preferred to conduct most of my research, I was hungry, and, given its eastern position, wanted to bathe in one of the rare sunny mornings Ljubljana granted its citizens.

  I slapped some butter onto a piece of bread, then smeared a thick layer of cherry marmalade on top. Not exactly the perfect combination to go with my coffee, but it would do.

  Breccan’s residual potency caressed my skin when I moved back to the table where he’d lingered. I shoved the alluring presence to the back of my mind, then forgot all about it once I started reading the following section of the file.

  Apparently, the demon lord suspected Sacred Skies, a rival airline company, had planted a spy among his employees. Breccan’s achievements in air travel had placed him at the top of the food chain, although the extensive research and modifications his company had made to the planes had been an investment he hadn’t come close to recovering yet. ArcaneWings was at a cruc
ial point in their career where they needed to gain as many passengers as they possibly could to climb out of the red and finally start earning.

  There was no alternative, really. Either they soared, or they sank.

  Which made them painfully vulnerable.

  I swallowed another bite and leaned back in my creaking chair.

  I’d done these kinds of jobs more times than I cared to count and knew Breccan was probably right. If the rival company was smart, they would have an inside man feeding them information on new flights and connections ArcaneWings wanted to establish, offers they intended to make, and details of their mag-tech approach. With that kind of info at their disposal, Sacred Skies’s expenses would be negligible compared to their gain since someone else had already done all the heavy lifting. Not to mention prevent ArcaneWings from making a profit if they syphoned away prospective passengers.

  A part of me almost felt bad for the demon lord. Although this was nothing but ink on paper, it was clear the airline meant something to him beyond a mere branch of income. After all, he already had an entire section of the Shadow World to rule over. It wasn’t like he needed the cash.

  I ate the last of my bread, then closed the folder.

  Unfortunately for Breccan, my sympathy wasn’t a sufficient motivator to place me in his corner. An airline company, as progressive as it might be, just wasn’t worth incurring Yelena’s wrath.

  Sliding the plate atop the one Breccan had already put in the sink, I pushed the case—and the demon lord—out of my mind.

  “Come on, Simon, I know you’re in there,” I yelled, more forcefully this time.

  My energetic wake-up call earned me a disdainful look from an old lady who’d just wandered up the stairs with two full bags of groceries from the supermarket right across the street in her hands. I waved at her in a not entirely pleasant way, then leaned on the doorbell again.

  If Simon was hungover, I was going to scorch his ass.

  My knuckles rapped against the chipped blue paint of the door, then met air when the man of the morning finally deigned to open it.