My Dangerous Pleasure

by Carolyn Jewel

  “Uh-huh.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Describe him to me.”

  “Greek. Dark complexion. Strong nose. Dark hair. Probably wearing a suit. You’re calling me on his phone. Is he there? Where’s the guy I sent?”

  “Dead.”

  “Shit.”

  “What’s a question I can ask him so I know it’s him and not some other mage or friend of Rasmus’s who stole this phone?”

  “What happened, Paisley?” His voice was crisp. “Where are you?”

  “Behind the bakery.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Did Rasmus come after you? Is he there?”

  “Yes. But Leonidas did something to him.” She checked the stranger. He hadn’t moved, and Rasmus and his magehelds remained enveloped in inky black. “I need to know if this is the real Leonidas before I go anywhere with him.”

  “Ask him where he first met me. I want you to repeat his answer to me. I’ll tell you if he’s right.”

  “What if he isn’t?”

  “Is there any place you can go? Back inside?”

  She faced the back door and unlocked it. “Yes.”

  “Good. I’m on my way. I’ll meet you there either way.”

  She relayed the question to Leonidas, who hadn’t moved from where he’d stopped. The mage answered without hesitation. “At the home of the assassin Durian. In St. Francis Wood.” She repeated the answer for Iskander and refused to think about the fact that Leonidas had so casually said the word assassin.

  Iskander said, “Let me talk to him.”

  “Is it him?” she asked.

  “Probably. Look, I don’t trust him, all right? Not all the way. Put him on the phone.”

  “All right.” She put the phone on the ground and shoved it toward Leonidas. “He wants to talk to you.”

  He picked it up. “Iskander.” His eyes darted to Rasmus. “Immobilized for now. You have perhaps twenty minutes before he works free. After that, I will think of something else. Yes. Shall I wait here for you?” He listened for a while before he disconnected the call and put away his phone. “Iskander would like for you to please wait inside for him. You’re to lock the door until he arrives. I’ll remain here.” He nodded in Rasmus’s direction. “Keeping an eye on him. I advise you to do as Iskander has asked.”

  She didn’t hesitate. Her heart beat a thousand times a minute even after she was inside with the door bolted and the alarm reset. She pressed her back against the door, weak-kneed but feeling better now that she was reasonably certain Leonidas was trustworthy and that Iskander was on his way.

  The half hour it took for something to happen felt like an eternity. Her chest flexed before she heard a motor that cut off. It wasn’t the Chevy; she’d have recognized the rumble. She held her breath, waiting as she faced the door, listening intently.

  She heard voices, but they were muffled. After another bit, there was a soft tap on the door. Paisley stared at it, imagining all the ways this might not be what it seemed.

  “Hey, Paisley.” Iskander’s voice was close to the door. “I’d call your phone but Leonidas says that asswipe Kessler melted it. It’s me, and you have some work to do.”

  She punched buttons on the alarm so it would reset itself and opened the door. She halfway expected to see Rasmus standing there. When she saw Iskander, she walked straight forward and into his arms. He put his arms around and held her tight for a moment.

  Leonidas said, “I took the liberty of calling Xia and Alexandrine to sever his magehelds. They are on their way. Perhaps another twenty or thirty minutes.”

  “Good thinking. You have him held for now, right?”

  “At the moment,” Leonidas said, “he’s merely physically restrained.”

  Rasmus stared at her from within the remnants of the shadow that confined him and his magehelds. The spot on her wrist flared so hot she jumped back, stumbling against Iskander, who caught her around the waist. The darkness surrounding Rasmus thinned to the point of looking more like smoke than shadow. Paisley saw him move an arm. He maintained his stare at her.

  Leonidas made another motion with his hand, but it was clear Rasmus would break free. Leonidas said something that wasn’t English.

  Iskander caught his hand. “Nikodemus will have your nuts in a grinder if you do anything to hurt him. Keep him like that until Xia gets here with Alexandrine. After they take care of the magehelds, let him go. And make sure he goes.”

  The mage motioned to the back door of the alley. “For now, take her inside. I expect you’ll know if I need you.” Iskander nodded at that. “Otherwise, I will call when it’s safe for you to leave.”

  Iskander pushed her toward the back door and let it slam behind them. She reset the alarm. “Is there someplace we can wait?” he asked.

  “Sure.” She walked past him. “My office.”

  Office was an exaggeration. She took him to the closet-sized space that contained a desk she suspected had been there forever. They didn’t make heavy furniture like that desk anymore. Her laptop was there, closed and turned off for now, as was the printer she kept tucked underneath the desk. There was a mini-fridge so employees could store a meal, snacks, or a drink if they wanted. A microwave sat on top of the fridge. Mugs and a box of assorted teas were next to the cheap coffeemaker on the corner of the desk, for use when the café ’s espresso machine was off. Behind the desk was a cheap office swivel chair. The visitor’s chair was black leather, a craigslist find like the fridge and microwave. That left about ten square feet to stand in.

  Once both of them were inside, the room seemed even smaller. She did her best to ignore the way he took up all the space.

  CHAPTER 24

  Iskander looked for a place he could stand without crowding her, but there wasn’t anywhere to go, unless he stood in the hall. Paisley’s office was too small for the amount of crap in it. For someone his size, one step in just about any direction and he’d knock something over.

  “I’m fine.” She stood by the heavy wooden desk, rubbing her arms.

  “You don’t look fine.” He did his best to crank down his sensitivity to her. She was leaking magic the way she had the night he found her near dying in her apartment. “Did Rasmus touch you again?”

  “No.” She looked drawn and shaky. “He just scared the heck out of me.” She shrugged out of her peacoat and threw it over the chair behind the desk. She wore black jeans and one of her chef’s shirts that didn’t do much for her but that didn’t hide her curves, either. He was in favor of her curves.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  “To me,” he said, holding her gaze, “that sounds like a lie.” Felt like one, too, but he wasn’t going to mention that just yet.

  “It’s not a lie.”

  “You sound tired and worn out.” He looked her up and down, taking his time. “You look like it, too. No offense. Aren’t you sleeping?”

  “You know my crazy schedule.” She tilted her head back to look at him in the cramped space. He liked the way his feelings about wanting her in his life meshed with the sexual hit he was getting from them being alone. Very cozy with him a decent amount taller than her and a lot bigger, and all his instincts about her going off. He was still plenty hot for her. Which was a record for him. “Want some coffee while we wait for Leonidas to give us the all-clear?”

  “Tea. Herbal. What? I drink tea sometimes.”

  “That’s fine for you, cupcake, but I can’t drink tea. It’ll make my nuts shrivel.” He grinned because she liked it when he joked around with her, and he wanted to see her smile. He dug through the basket of supplies and found a bag of ground Peet’s blend. “Or worse.”

  “Nobody’s making you drink tea.”

  “I’m making us coffee.”

  “I want tea.”

  He turned his head to get a look at her. Her big hazel eyes were fixed on him, and his heart did that thing where it hurt without him understanding why. He’d watched
Durian fall for the human woman, Gray, and all he’d ever thought was, I don’t get it. He wished he did because then he might have a clue what to do about Paisley. “I’ll make your tea first, all right? Where do you get the water?”

  “Bathroom sink. Across the hall. I can get it.”

  “So can I.” He grabbed the carafe from the coffeemaker and filled it from the bathroom tap. When he came back, he saw she’d taken possession of the swivel chair behind the desk and was now rocking the seat back and forth. Her hands were on her lap where he couldn’t see them. He had no idea why she’d moved so far away from him, but the reason couldn’t be good.

  He prepped the coffee grounds and got the water started but kept enough to fill one of the mugs from the shelf above the mini-fridge. He stuck the mug in the microwave and punched a few buttons. “Fine,” he said. Why would anyone drink tea? “You want tea, you can have tea. What kind do you want?”

  “I like Chamomile.”

  When her water was hot, he dunked the tea bag into her mug. He looked around for supplies like fake sugar and creamers. Leonidas could finish out there any minute, for Christ’s sake.

  “Basket under the napkins,” she said.

  “Thanks.” He could see her upper arm moving. “Is your wrist bothering you?”

  “Some.”

  He added in the one sugar he knew she liked and gave it a stir before he handed it over. “Are you sure Rasmus didn’t touch you?”

  “Thanks. No, he didn’t.” Paisley gazed at him from over the mug. The words Paisley Bakery were printed on it in a paisley pattern on a bright yellow glaze. That mouth of hers never failed to give him dirty thoughts. What if she didn’t want something regular with him?

  The water was percolating through the coffee machine and into the carafe now. Coffee scent wafted through the room. He picked up his mug and switched it with the carafe.

  “You’re going to scald yourself doing that.”

  When the mug was full, he switched the carafe back without a drop spilled. He faced her with a smile. “I have skillz you can only dream about.”

  “Milk’s in the fridge,” she said.

  He found a carton of organic half-and-half and loaded up. He stood there with his cup, breathing in the smell. She stared at his cup, and he smiled because he knew what she was thinking. The coffee was righteously good. He filled another mug with coffee and put in her sugar. Then he reached over the desk and took away her tea. “You don’t need weed-flavored water. Coffee the way I make it, you can grow a pair even if you’re a girl.”

  “Bless your heart,” she said. But she took the coffee and drank some, too. “It’s good.”

  “I told you. Skillz.”

  “Maybe you should be in charge of the coffee at home.”

  Home. Well, yeah. It was her home, too. So far, there wasn’t any change in his reaction to the ambient magic. No phone call, either, so Rasmus and Leonidas were still out there. He sat on the black leather chair, but it wasn’t made for someone his size. “I’m not doing anybody else,” he said. Oh, shit. That came out all kinds of wrong. “Seeing anyone. I’m not seeing anyone.”

  “It’s none of my business.”

  “Maybe it should be,” he said. He knew two kinds of relationships: his failed one with Fen and his one-nighters. He wanted something else with Paisley.

  She came out from behind the desk and topped off her coffee from the carafe. He stared at her back until she leaned against the edge of the desk and took a big, long swallow. He arranged himself on the chair, a bit sideways, with one leg on the floor and the other thrown over the padded arm. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  She put down her coffee and ran her hands over her head and then kept them there. “Rasmus is getting to be a real pain in the behind.”

  He studied her as if his life depended on being able to recall every physical detail. The dark red hair, the pale skin. The blue shadows under her eyes. The way the corners of her mouth tensed. She looked unhappy, and that was at least partly his fault. He didn’t know all that much about human women. Not nearly enough.

  Did humans who couldn’t make psychic connections on their own memorize faces and expressions and try to fit the physical whole of a person into some kind of representation of the person’s interior life? He knew Paisley well enough to know she was stressed and tired and still dealing with the aftermath of Rasmus’s attack. Every time the mage got around her, she ended up shaky like she was now.

  “If I had my way,” he said, “I’d end him right now.”

  “I know.”

  Hell yeah. He’d crush the mage’s heart in his bare hand. He drank the rest of his coffee and set the empty mug on the floor. Then he held out a hand, and after a hesitation, she put her fingers on his palm. Their eyes locked and he could see the question there: Should I? As far as he was concerned, the answer was hell and yes. He drew her toward him and shifted so she ended up sitting on his lap, his arms around her.

  “I wish everything could just go back the way it was. I want a normal life,” she said as she settled against his torso. “Normal. I can barely remember what that’s like.”

  “You can’t have a normal life.” Her eyes got big and hurt, and he felt bad for telling her the truth. “Besides, if you had a normal life, you wouldn’t know me.” He stroked her back, and when she relaxed against him, his heart went all funny again. Her ass was snugged up against him, but he played it cool.

  He resettled himself, but there was no way she wasn’t going to notice his physical reaction down south. He shifted them so he had his feet on the floor and she was across his lap with one of his arms around her upper back and her shoulder tucked in against his side. He pushed up her sleeve to take a look at her wrist. “Looks pinker to me,” he said. All but one of the marks Rasmus had left had faded. One of the blisters on her shoulder had scarred like her wrist. “Does it hurt?”

  “A little.”

  “Let me help.” He set his hand to the back of her neck and spread his fingers upward, turning her head toward him so they were looking at each other. “Let me take care of you.”

  “You already do that.”

  “Let me help with this. Right now.”

  She wasn’t acknowledging that he was touching her, but she also wasn’t moving away. That had to be a good sign. But he was thinking about things he shouldn’t be. Soft human skin, her curves, the taste of her, her mouth on him, his on her. And him. Possibly not even in human form. He stroked his fingers through her hair. He didn’t know what to say to her, what words to use. They hadn’t been necessary with Fen, and he’d never wanted more than a good time with anyone else.

  “How?” she said.

  “Let me in your head, and I can help with the pain.” Iskander’s phone vibrated in his front pocket. He ignored it and kept one hand moving over Paisley. He loved touching her. He wanted to do it more often. The contact calmed him, too, the way physical contact did between his own kind.

  Paisley tipped her head back enough to stare at the ceiling. He swept his gaze downward and ended up looking at her chest and thinking impure thoughts. Her head came back to level, and by the time he realized it, there wasn’t any hiding that he’d been ogling her. She put her fingers under his chin and pushed up. She was smiling a little, which was good.

  “Are you talking about an indwell?”

  “Not like that.” He ran his fingers through her hair and ended up cupping the back of her head. “I’m not sure that would even work with you. I’m talking about a psychic connection between us. If it works, and it’s okay with you, I can make it so it lasts a while. It would help me know when you’re in trouble even when I’m not nearby. I could find you even faster than I can now. And you could find me, if you needed to. Sooner than you can now.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “We don’t have to.” He touched her injured wrist. “At least let me help with this.”

  “Will it hurt?”

  “It shouldn’t.”
/>   “Lord knows aspirin never does any good.”

  He plucked at the shoulder of her white jacket, and they both looked at her shoulder. He said, “Does this come off?”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” he said, and he put a whole world of longing in the word.

  When he looked up and found her watching his face, he realized they were having a moment that had nothing to do with him helping with her wrist. The moment was about the two of them and the heat they were generating just from looking at each other.

  “You were right,” she said.

  “About?”

  “Sex with you.”

  “That so?”

  “With you, it is better than chocolate.” She unsnapped the fastenings of her jacket, and he helped her slip it off. Underneath she wore a white ribbed tank top thin enough for him to see through to her bra. He scooped her ponytail off her back and over one shoulder.

  “Nice. Really nice.” He wasn’t sure where to touch her. Everywhere. Nowhere? “You aren’t just a one-time thing for me,” he said. His chest was tight, and he recognized the sensation as anxiety. About Paisley and whether she wanted anything to do with him the way he did with her. “It’s different with you.” He didn’t like feeling this way—helpless. Uncertain. Wanting something he wasn’t sure he could have and afraid he wouldn’t get it. “I should have been bored after the first time, itching to move on. And I’m not.” He kept his arms around her, as if that would keep her with him more than just physically and for the moment. “I don’t know anything except I don’t want you thinking this is just me having a good time.”

  She ran a hand up and down his torso. “I had a good time before.”

  “A good time.”

  Her hand wandered a bit more. “A very good time.”

  He let out a breath. “I guess that’s better than telling me I’m lousy in bed.”

  “You are definitely not lousy in bed.”

  He stared at a wisp of red hair curling over the side of her neck. He imagined pressing his lips there. Maybe taking a nip. Enough to break skin. Reaching for her mind and making a connection there. And it wouldn’t be fucked up the way things had gotten with Fen. He ran a finger along the strap of her tank top. “Jesus, you make me hot.” He reached down to push off the black clogs she wore to work, but she toed them off, so he slid off her socks instead. They shifted on the chair again, and she ended up straddling him with her knees sliding deep into the cushions on either side of his legs. He put his hands on her ass, then slid his thumbs up either side of her spine. Her skin was warm through her shirt.