by Amy Sumida
“Hand over whatever cash you have, and we won't hurt you,” the stonehead sneered.
Slate started to laugh. I giggled. Obviously, these guys had no idea who or what either of us was. The Golems shuffled uncomfortably, giving each other confused looks.
“I'm serious. I will fucking bash your faces in,” the head golem growled. “Hand it over now!”
“Do you have rocks for brains too?” Slate asked derisively. “She's a spellsinger, and I'm a gargoyle, you moron.”
“What?” The Golem whispered.
“I can sing you to death,” I said sweetly.
“And I can make you dance to your own dirge,” Slate added.
“Bullshit,” the Golem huffed as he closed his hands into sledgehammer fists. “Now, I'm gonna have to mess you up just for fucking with me. Circle 'em!”
The other golems closed around us as I gave Slate a shrug and a smile.
“Would you care to dance?” Slate asked me gallantly.
“I'd love to.”
In tandem, we tossed our cups of coffee in the faces of the nearest golems then went into each other's arms. As solid fists flew, the soft thuds of Tori Amos' “Little Earthquakes” lifted around us like a flock of birds taking flight. Slate swung me up against his chest with one arm while he twirled me and flung his magic out with his free hand. Golems tumbled away from us with surprised grunts, toppled like pieces on a chessboard. They scrambled to get to their feet, but my song had already made it to the chorus, crawling up sensually as my lover danced with me in the shadowed street. I stared into Slate's silver eyes as I pressed my body against him and sang the deadly lyrics. Life and pain and all of those tiny earthquakes centered in the chests of the golems who had dared to attack a spellsinger and her gargoyle lover.
Strong arms around my back, thick muscles beneath my hands, and the shiver of magic riding the air around us. It was sensual, beautiful, and a bit bloodthirsty. We danced among the groaning golems, Slate flicking away their grasping hands casually as I continued to sing their swan song. Our assailants cried out, begging for mercy while the patrons of the nearby Cauldron poured out its doors to watch in amazement.
Slate dipped me, lowering his face to mine. I stroked his cheek, ignoring the sound of grinding rock and pleading golems as I stared into his molten eyes. He straightened us, and I delivered the last lines, shaking the golems until pieces of their skin began to flake away, and then the music began to fade. I lifted a brow at my lover in question. The golems had made it through the first round. Did they deserve a second?
“Perhaps we shouldn't kill them,” Slate whispered. “Embarrassment can be so motivational. We could turn their lives around.”
“You did promise to make them dance.”
Slate grinned deviously and settled me in against him as he motioned to the golems. They moaned as they levitated to their feet like puppets on strings. Then they began to do the Macarena.
“Kyanite, would you mind?” I asked gleefully.
It would be my utmost pleasure.
“Macarena” by Los Del Rio started to play in perfect time to the golem's movements. The Cauldron's customers burst into delighted laughter as the stoners' sepia skin darkened to mahogany in humiliation. Hands behind their heads and hips circling wide, the pebble of golems went through the entire dance routine and then jumped as one, vibrating the ground as they turned to the right. They began another round as the onlookers hooted, cheered, and lifted their mugs in salute. A bunch of beneathers separated from the crowd and lined up behind the golems. As Slate and I doubled over in laughter, they began to dance with the golems like a flash mob.
Then my hardcore, urbane zone lord drew me in against his chest and started to salsa with me. Or maybe it was the mambo. I have no idea what precise Latin dance his sexy moves belonged to, but they involved a lot of undulating hips and roaming hands. By the time the song was finished, I was flushed and it wasn't from laughter. Slate finally released the golems—who ran for their lives and their pride—and the Cauldron crowd applauded uproariously as Slate and I kissed.
Chapter Ten
“That was the most fun I've had in twenty years,” Slate declared as we finally headed back to Cer's.
“I can't believe you know the Macarena.” I nestled in against his side, his arm slung over my shoulder and mine around his waist as we strolled.
“Honestly, me either.” He chuckled. “It must have stuck with me.”
“What a bunch of boneheads.”
“Stoneheads,” he corrected me, and we laughed again.
We were still chuckling when we stepped into Cerberus Security. The outer door was unlocked but the waiting room was dark. Mike had gone home for the night. Light shone out of the open doorway of Cer's office and the sound of low voices came with it. I shut the front door and threw the lock.
“What are you two so happy about?” Cerberus huffed as Slate and I stepped into the back room.
“We just had a golem dance party,” I announced.
“You had a what?” Torin asked in horror.
“We were harassed by a group of bazaar thugs on the way back from Smoke and Mirrors,” Slate went into more detail. “They were golems.”
“Golems attacked a gargoyle?” Gage chortled. “That's rich. Don't they know you guys control rock?”
“We warned them, but they didn't believe us,” I said delightedly. “So, Slate made them dance the Macarena.”
“Don't you have to know the Macarena to make someone dance it?” Cerberus smirked at Slate.
“It was a difficult fad to ignore.” Slate shrugged. “I must have watched it enough times to remember it.”
“Regardless, it was hilarious,” I said. “And everyone in the Cauldron came out to watch. A bunch of them even joined in. It became a beneather flash mob.”
“No way! You did this outside the Cauldron?” Cerberus whined. “You went to the Cauldron without me? Rude, Elaria, just rude.”
“I was showing Slate around the Bazaar on our way back,” I explained. “We didn't go inside. It was getting late by the time the golems finished their dance routine.”
“All right, but you're going back for a drink with me,” Cer insisted.
“You got it.” I winked at him.
“What about the Demos party?” Darc asked. “Did you get the invitation?”
“More than that, we got an ally,” I announced. “Slate told Sam that he was hunting some of Philip's men to put in his arena, and Sam was eager to help.”
“Well done.” Darc nodded to Slate. “That's a damn good excuse.”
“Samedi agreed to take us as his guests, under the premise that I asked for an introduction to Demos,” Slate added.
“Don't you have a reputation for being”—Declan waved his hand—“upstanding? Scrupulous? Basically anti-crime?”
“I have a reputation for putting criminals in my arena,” Slate corrected. “But I'm also a club owner, and I run a zone full of beneathers. I'm going to let Philip believe I'm interested in his exotic narcotics.”
“Damn, that's another good idea,” Cer said.
“What about you guys?” I asked. “Ky said you've been getting reports.”
“We've got several nymph sightings.” Torin waved a hand at the map of the Bazaar. “The red markers indicate where the sightings occurred. It looks as if they've been moving the nymphs around the Bazaar. The yellow markers are confirmed Demos properties. We've also been told that the Demos Family pays off the Portal Operators to have a separate portal for their personal use.”
“That's how they smuggle nymphs onto Earth,” I murmured as I stepped up to the table. “Are those skittles?” I pointed at the markers.
“I didn't want to damage my map with pushpins,” Cerberus grumbled.
I snorted and shook my head.
“So, they bring the nymphs here and then what?” Slate asked. “How do they get them out of the Bazaar?”
“The Bazaar isn't warded against people exiting, only
entering,” Cer reminded him.
“Yes, I know, but if you aren't a beneather with access to a shining one traveling stone or a Phoenix feather or a Griffin eggshell—”
“Or a Drachen diamond,” I added.
“Or Angel wings,” Luke said.
“Or what have you,” Slate amended. “If you don't have any of those traveling charms—and a satyr wouldn't—how would you get that many people out of the Bazaar secretly?”
“There are several ways to magically travel across the Earth,” Torin reminded Slate. “Several in addition to those you mentioned. It's realm to realm travel that's more difficult. Once here, they could employ a witch or a jinn or any number of beneathers to help them move the nymphs. Or perhaps Philip Demos purchased a charm to do the work; he has enough capital to buy nearly anything.”
“Yes, I know,” Slate said in an impatient tone. “I'm asking if you've discovered the specifics. Obviously, you haven't.”
“No, we don't know exactly how the nymphs are moved,” Declan confirmed. “But they will have to be moved soon. The party is only three days away.”
“They'll need to get them to the boat,” I concluded.
“And we'll be watching when they do,” Cerberus declared.
“Until then, all we can do is wait.” Darc slid his sapphire gaze my way. “Let's go home, my fire. It's late, and I grow weary of skulduggery.”
“But I haven't gotten to try out my new look yet.” Lucifer waved a hand at himself.
“You'll have your chance, I'm sure,” I consoled him.
“Actually, shouldn't I be the one to attend this event with Elaria?” Lucifer asked. “Samedi could introduce me as a wealthy businessman looking to expand into drugs. Then, you wouldn't have to worry about compromising your reputation or your identity, Slate. Wouldn't it be better to send an unknown beneather in than a famous zone lord?”
We all went still.
“He has a point.” Cerberus looked at Slate.
“Fuck!” Slate cursed under his breath. “I don't like the thought of you going in without one of us, Elaria.”
“Have all of you forgotten something?” Declan asked.
When we looked at Declan, he was a different man; his rich auburn hair was as black as Torin's, his fair skin now golden brown, his slim build thickened to the point where it rivaled Gage, and his face belonged to a stranger.
“Lucifer isn't the only one with illusion magic,” Torin concluded gleefully.
“As I've been saying.” Declan rolled the dark eyes of his illusion. “I can not only alter my own appearance but also Elaria's. I'm the better choice.”
“But I'm the only one with light magic,” Lucifer countered.
“You said that Elaria has it under control.” Declan narrowed his eyes at Lucifer.
“She does, but this will be her first time testing that control outside of training,” Lucifer reasoned. “Wouldn't it be safer to have me there just in case?
“Jewels damn you!” Declan snapped as he dropped his illusion.
“Maybe you should sit this one out, El,” Cer cringed as he said it.
“And what about the next one and the one after that?” I shot back. “When will that end? No, I need to do this. I need to prove that I'm in control.”
“Perhaps Samedi could bring three guests?” Torin suggested.
“I think that might be pushing it,” Declan grumbled.
“I assure you; I will protect Elaria with my life,” Lucifer vowed.
Slate sighed and looked at my husbands and mate. “What do all of you think?”
“Lucifer loves Elaria and as much as I hate to admit it, he's stronger than us,” Torin said. “He won't allow her to be hurt.”
“No offense to either of you”—Darc looked from Slate to Declan—“but she's safer going with him, and that's all I care about.”
“RS can update all of you on what's happening in real-time,” I offered as Slate and Declan glowered at Darc. “You can storm the yacht if you need to.”
Declan grimaced, looked away, and nodded.
“Fine,” Slate gave in as he pulled out Samedi's business card. “Hand me the damn phone.”
Chapter Eleven
Torin and Declan went home to their kingdoms while Slate went to his zone. I headed back to Kyanite with Darc and Gage, but I didn't stay there. I wanted to check on Banning, and it had been awhile since I'd spent a night alone with my blooder prince.
The Crouching Lion, Banning's Country Club and the home of his gura in Kansas, was tranquil and dim with just a few lamps left on to light the foyer and hallways. A skeleton crew manned the security station, but I didn't have to bother them to be let in, I traveled straight into Banning's master suite on the second floor.
There were light-safe rooms below ground and that was where most of his gura slept, but none of Banning's blooders had to worry about the sun anymore. Not since the Battle for Primeval when they drank blood from powerful beneathers and gained the ability to withstand sunlight. Banning drank my blood consistently so I wasn't concerned about his ability fading, but we'd wondered if the infusion of beneather blood had granted permanent resistance to his gura or if it was only a temporary thing. It had been over a year now and there had been no signs of their resistance fading so it was safe to assume it was permanent. His blooders had begun to change their vampire schedules for more human ones, but they kept their undergrounds bedrooms out of habit. Thus the silence.
The Prince himself was asleep in his bed, tucked beneath a fluffy comforter despite the warm night. Banning liked a cold room to sleep in and the A/C, combined with his naturally cool body temperature, made it possible for him to enjoy a thick blanket. I grinned as I stripped; I liked to snuggle under the covers too but the best thing about a cold bedroom was how difficult it was to work up a sweat. I liked a challenge.
I slid in bed beside Banning and ducked beneath the covers to crawl between his legs. The scent of clean man wafted over me, and I breathed deeply as I nestled between his sleek thighs. As I eased them apart Banning made a soft sigh. I paused until he settled again. I wanted to wake him up with my kiss, not just my movements.
The silken skin of his shaft felt like velvet on my cheek as I nuzzled it. It twitched so I gave it a long lick. The air was starting to get warm and thick under the blankets, but I was intent on rousing my lover in the sexiest way possible. I bent my head and slid him into my mouth, moaning a little at the primal taste of him. Lips tightening around his thickening flesh, I slid down its length to fill my mouth with him. Banning came awake with a growling shout.
The blankets were flung back, and I stared up into the glowing green gaze of my blooder husband. His pale hair streamed around his ferociously aroused face as his mouth opened on a deep groan, showcasing sharp fangs.
“Elaria,” Banning growl-whispered as his hand slid into my hair, “what are you doing here?”
I grinned around his shaft as I continued to pleasure him; the “what” was obvious. Banning leaned back on the pillows, his muscled stomach rippling as he bent an arm behind his head, and stared down at me like a king watching his concubine; possessively and proudly. I moved over him faster, enjoying that commanding stare, and added my fingers to my work. His hips started moving upward, his hand pushing me down, until he cried out and came in hot streams across my tongue.
I sucked Banning clean and then licked my lips as I crawled up his splayed body, his expression far different than the dominant one he'd started with. Now, my husband looked content and as if he'd been the one conquered.
“I thought you'd be staying in the Bazaar tonight,” Banning murmured as I stretched out across his chest.
“We got a lot done. I'll tell you about it tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to make love to my husband.”
“Your husband wants that too.” He pulled me up higher and into a thorough kiss; the kind that makes me simultaneously go limp in some areas while I tighten in others.
Banning tightened too; his muscles fl
exing as he moved me onto my back and his shaft hardening to prod between my legs. I rolled up against him but despite his obvious arousal, the first rush of passion had been spent and Banning wanted to take his time. Instead of his sex, his fingers slid into me, rubbing and sliding until slick noises rose to tease us. He kept up his wild kissing but then moved it slowly down my neck and over my rapid pulse. I angled my head, offering him my throat, but he kept moving downward. Banning's mouth covered my breast, his tongue flicking my nipple into attention, and I clasped him tighter to me.
Fingers thrusting hard. Slamming knuckles against my sex. Banning ground his shaft against my leg as he sucked on my breast. All of those sensations rolled together, snowballing into a monstrous avalanche of ecstasy until I screamed and arched up into it. Banning moaned against me, split my sex with his, and slid inside me at last. As I started coming down from my release, he began to drive me back up. Rising onto his forearms, his face like an Adonis and his tattoos shifting in the moonlight, Banning drove himself into me with the power of a blooder and something a little more.
