Storm Kissed

by Jessica Andersen

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Dez didn’t look at Reese; he couldn’t, not now when he couldn’t get hold of his own thoughts. Fallon was one of the good guys, damn it. And even through the haze of anger clouding Dez’s vision—at Fallon for going there, at Reese for not telling him—there was no question that the other man loved her. It was in his eyes, in his voice. He would protect her, care for her. And he had proposed. Probably even got down on one knee and did it right.

  She turned him down, he thought. Hell, she broke up with him. But that didn’t help, because he knew damn well the breakup had happened because of the night he and Reese had spent together. That was the way her brain worked.

  “You don’t want to do this,” Fallon said. “I’m sure she told you I’m a cop.”

  He hadn’t recognized Dez’s voice. That gave him the option of backing off, disappearing again, not bringing it all out in the open, which was what Reese’s eyes silently begged him to do. Hell, he could drop the cop with a sleep spell and they would be out of there with the folder before the guy woke up. No harm, no foul. If Dez were truly the better man he was trying to be, he would do exactly that, and maybe even find a way to point her back in Fallon’s direction.

  Back off, he told himself, just as he had told Fallon moments earlier. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not anymore.

  The past week had reminded him how it had felt to be the stupid kid who hadn’t fully realized what he’d gained the day he’d snatched her away from Hood. The guy he had been before the star demon’s corruption. More, he had gotten to know the woman she had become, who wasn’t the same as she would have been if they had stayed together. This Reese was quick-tongued and acerbic at times, but he liked that edge, just as he liked her self-sufficiency and the way she made him feel stronger just by being there. Before, he had waited too long and missed his chance. This time, he could very well lose her if the shit hit the fan and the artifacts came on line, unleashing the curse of the serpent bloodline. But if that happened, he wanted her to know what she was walking out on. He wanted both of them to know.

  So instead of backing off and disappearing, he gave Fallon a briskly professional pat, relieved him of his piece, emptied it, and put it back. “That’ll save you the paperwork of reporting it gone.”

  Then, still keeping his .44 trained on the other man’s melon, Dez stepped around him, into the light, and put himself right beside Reese. To his surprise, his heart thudded in his chest, making the empty spots feel full. He saw in the widening of her eyes and the flush that touched her cheeks that she knew that he was staking his claim. And if that made him a selfish bastard, so be it. Maybe he wasn’t as cured as he wanted to think.

  They would hash that out later, though. Right now, they had a cop to deal with.

  Fallon’s face—more lined than before, but still bull-tough and square-jawed—went utterly blank for a two-count. Then it flooded with fury. “Mendez.” Coming out of his mouth, it sounded like “motherfucker,” but his eyes hollowed out like he was looking at a ghost. Which in a way, he was. Then his face set in deep lines as he added it up. His voice broke on aching disappointment when he said, “Oh, Reese.”

  She flinched but held her ground. Dez could only guess how much that cost her. She wouldn’t have slept with Fallon if she didn’t care for him, and she wouldn’t enjoy hurting him now. Hell, Dez wasn’t getting any satisfaction out of the agony in the other man’s eyes. He could relate too damn well.

  “I’m sorry,” she began. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I tried to be what I thought you wanted—what I thought I wanted, but I just couldn’t do it.” She stroked a hand down the sleeve of her leather, over her injured wrist. “This is who I am.”

  Breathing hard, hands fisted at his sides, Fallon grated, “What about him? How long have you been—” He broke off, closing his eyes briefly in pain. “How long?”

  “This isn’t really about him.”

  “Fuck that.”

  “I never lied about my feelings, Fallon.”

  His ribs heaved. “I thought you would come around, that you would figure out that it’s better to be with a good guy who loves you than an asshole who’ll break your heart, probably get you killed.” Transferring his glare to Dez, he grated, “Pretty brave with that gun, aren’t you? How about you put it down and we’ll see who’s tougher?”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Fallon just sneered. “Don’t want to go back in, you mean. Parole violation, weapons charges, I wonder what else you’ve been up to for the past year, and whether she knows all of it.”

  Guilt pinched. “She knows I’m not the same guy I used to be.”

  The detective snorted. “Found God in solitary, did you? Think He redeemed you?”

  “Something like that.”

  “You’ll have plenty of time to work on that once you’re back inside.”

  Dez merely lifted the .44. “I’m the one with the gun here. And Reese is leaving with me.” Then he just waited, knowing the other man would work the logic to its conclusion: If Fallon organized a manhunt, even an off-the-books, semi-quiet one, Reese would get caught up in the net for aiding and abetting. When he saw the knowledge hit, he felt a pang of sympathy at the hollow resignation in the other man’s face. “Let her go, Fallon,” he said softly. “She’s made her choice.”

  Reese shot him a look at that one, but didn’t argue the point because she had made her choice—just not the one Fallon was assuming. She had chosen freedom over restraints, adventure over a sure thing.

  Fallon’s eyes cooled to ice as he looked from Reese to Dez and back. Then he gave a bad-tempered “fuck it” kind of a shrug, and grated, “Doesn’t matter to me what a pair of ghosts does. I didn’t see anything in here, didn’t hear anything, just had a shitty lunch break in a crappy warehouse, waiting for a weasel who didn’t show.”

  Then he spun on his heel, and headed out. He stiff-armed the door, paused, and chucked the file folder back at them with an angry swipe. The papers scattered and fluttered to the hallway floor, where they swirled in the current as the door slammed shut. They heard his footsteps, the bang of a car door, the rev of an engine, the chirp of tires . . . and then silence.

  She inhaled a small sob, bowed her head and pressed her fingertips to her eyelids.

  He lifted a hand. “Reese.”

  “Don’t,” she said. “Just . . . don’t. Not right now. Just get us out of here, okay?”

  Skywatch

  The moment they were boots-down in the compound, Strike asked Reese and Dez to do a quick debrief-and-discuss.

  Dez glanced at her. “Okay with you?”

  “Yeah.” She avoided his eyes, though. She could talk about the file Fallon had given them—thrown at her, really—but she wasn’t ready to deal with the rest of it. Fallon had been a part of her life for a long time and she hated knowing that she had hurt him so deeply, hated knowing what he must think of her now. Part of her wished like poison that Dez had stayed the hell out of sight. But another part of her, one she wasn’t at all proud of, had liked that he had broken cover for her, stood beside her. And that part of her wondered what it meant. It had felt like a signal, but of what? She didn’t know, didn’t dare guess, which meant that right now it was easier to focus on the job. It was also necessary, because as she looked around the room, it struck her that of the dozen people scattered around the great room, she and Dez were among the most thinly armed. Even Shandi, Jade’s ultra-reserved winikin, was packing heat. Skywatch didn’t feel inviolate anymore, Iago had all five of the artifacts, and they were three days away from the solstice.

  “Okay, gang,” Strike said, looking tired and drawn as he called the meeting to order. “Reese, you want to lead us off?”

  Feeling strangely numb, like this was all happening to someone else, she went through the police report Fallon had brought her, which described a burglary that had turned into a double homicide when the homeowners had caught the thieves in the act. The victims
had died from multiple stab wounds, there was no indication of how the killers had gotten in or out, and the only thing that appeared to be missing was a pale green jade staff that had strange indentations along its length and snake heads carved at either end.

  Serpents again, she thought, glancing at the insurance photo, then passing it around.

  Next, Lucius took over for a quick run-through of the sacred Aztec sites that were strong possibilities for either Iago’s hiding spot or his next target. “Tomorrow, Strike is going to bounce a team—”

  “Actually”—the king interrupted—“I’m going to have Rabbit, Myrinne, and Sven go check out the sites. They’re already down south to.” He glanced at Leah. “It’ll work better that way.”

  A few knowing looks got traded, but nobody said a word. When Reese frowned in confusion, Jade leaned over and whispered, “Anna is . . . well, she’s fading.”

  “Oh, no.” The painful scene with Fallon receded slightly and she rubbed her chest, heart hurting for Strike and Sasha, who were losing their big sister, and for Lucius, who was losing his oldest friend and mentor. The others were losing a friend and teammate, the world its last living itza’at seer and the third Triad mage. And Anna . . . poor Anna. Reese had watched Lucius sit with her one day, going through her extensive collection of fake antiquities, talking about the ones they had found together at this market or that dealer′s shop. That had cracked her heart. Seeing Strike just beyond the doorway with tears in his eyes had broken it.

  It’s not fair, Reese thought, though she knew firsthand that life wasn’t fair. If it were, she would have been able to love Fallon, who had wanted to give her the stability she should have craved. Instead, like her chocolate obsession, the thing she wanted most wasn’t good for her.

  She had a feeling that the unfairness of Anna’s condition went beyond “life ain’t fair,” though. The Nightkeepers—Strike, especially—couldn’t catch a freaking break. They fought like hell for every gain, and too often things went the other way, seemingly in violation of the Doctrine of Balance that said everything would even out over the long run. It had taken some pushing and prodding, but she had finally gotten Lucius to admit that he suspected the bad luck was cosmic payback—whether from the gods or the Doctrine of Balance itself—for Strike having broken the thirteenth prophecy by refusing to sacrifice Leah. The magi supported him absolutely . . . but the shadow remained.

  Suddenly exhausted, she only half listened as Lucius continued down the list of possible sites for the weapon’s activation, focusing on serpent-related ruins down south, within the Mayan territories. And when the meeting broke up soon after, she was grateful to escape to her suite. She had been in there only a moment, though, when there was a quiet knock at her door.

  It wasn’t syncopated, wasn’t the familiar “all’s clear,” but she knew it was him. She almost wimped out and pretended she wasn’t there, but he would know. And she didn’t want weakness to make her into a liar. So she opened the door.

  He stood in the hallway with his shoulders hunched and his fists jammed in his pockets, looking like he’d been caught doing something wrong, and for a second reminding her so strongly of his teenaged self that her throat closed, trapping her breath in her lungs. Then he straightened, becoming once again the man he’d grown into, the sleek, sexy, powerful mage she didn’t quite know how to handle. Which didn’t make breathing any easier, but it did put her on her guard. Especially given that he was looking at her now like he had back in the warehouse.

  “What do you want?” she asked, damning her voice for coming out breathy rather than tough.

  He glanced away, then back at her. “Fallon’s a better man than I am.”

  It took her a moment to process, another for anger to kindle. “Don’t even think of trying to punt me back to Denver under his protection. I can make my own damn decisions about men, and I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can. And that’s not what I meant.” He reached out, took her hand, and slid her sleeve up, over the bandage. The skin around it was almost back to its normal color. “Anna’s dying.”

  And she had nearly died, too, his gesture said. Her heart gave a sharp thudda-thudda at his touch. “What does that have to do with Fallon?”

  “Because death is guaranteed. Life isn’t. And Fallon put himself out there, even knowing he was going to get shot down.” He paused, then let go of her hand. Instead of moving away from her, though, he stepped closer, and lifted both hands to grab on to the lapels of her new leather. “I’ve never done that.”

  Feeling like she was on the cusp of the dream when she had least expected to find herself there, she nodded. “Not with me, anyway.”

  “Not with anyone. I don’t know. Maybe part of me thought Keban was right when he said nobody would want me for anything other than my strength. Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe I was so full of myself I thought I didn’t need to work for it.”

  “I can see how you would think that—the second part, I mean,” Reese said, not wanting to look too hard at the first part because she knew it would wipe out what little common sense and self-restraint she had left. She could picture all too well Dez-the-child hearing that, believing it.

  His mouth quirked. “Because I was full of myself in general?”

  “No. Because I would have done anything for you back then.”

  He went still. “And now?”

  She hesitated. “I’m confused. Who are you, really? What do you want from me? And for gods’ sake, what are you hiding? There’s something. I can see it in your eyes, or maybe it’s that I’m feeling it in whatever link we’ve got going.”

  He went very still. “You can sense the blood-bond?”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “You’re right, and this isn’t going to be one, either. But I’m asking you to hear me out.” His tone was serious, his eyes intense.

  Her stomach fluttered. Or was that her instincts? She could never tell when it came to him. But she nodded shallowly. “Go ahead.”

  “When I left Keban I walked away from most of what he taught me. But a few things stuck, mostly about how the members of the serpent bloodline were typically ambitious as hell, borderline arrogant, and tough as nails. Even when I stopped believing in the Nightkeepers, I still knew that fit me. He also said that a serpent male, especially a powerful one, needed to make sure he had everything else straight in his life before he took a mate, because the serpents love obsessively, to the point that for the first while, nothing else exists for them. More, they need to pick a mate who can handle that, who can handle them, and keep them on an even keel.”

  Which wasn’t anything she had expected to hear from him . . . but it explained a few things. She took a deep breath, then let it out on a sigh. “You weren’t sure about me.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be an idiot. I was worried about me, not you. Back then, I was having screwy dreams and weird impulses, probably because Keban had unearthed the star demon and was in the area, looking for me. And over the past year—and even the last couple of weeks—I’ve been trying to figure out how to make damn sure I can control what happens with Keban and the compass artifacts.”

  Her gut told her that was the absolute and final truth. She nodded slowly. “Okay, I get that. You need space to—”

  “Not anymore.” His knuckles brushed the sides of her neck. “That’s what I’ve been figuring out over the past few days. It started when you got hurt, which made me wonder what the hell I’ve been waiting for. And then today, with Fallon . . . that sealed it. Because I’m not going to let myself get outdone by a cop.”

  He said the last with a faint sneer, which was so perfectly Dez that she felt her lips curve even as her heart beat an unsteady rhythm. “And?”

  “You’re mine, Reese.” His eyes went luminous and his voice dropped to a whisper. “And I’m yours. I always have been, even when I got lost in the darkness.”

  She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. All
she could do was stare at him and wonder whether she was dreaming. But the throb of her body was very real, as was the tightness in her chest and the hot prickle of tears.

  When she didn’t answer right away, the fear that entered his eyes was almost tangible. More, it said that this mattered to him, that she mattered, more than he’d ever let on before. “Please tell me I haven’t missed my shot, that you’ll take your chances on a serpent mage whose life seems to be permanently out of control. Because I—”

  She cut him off with a kiss. And if the move came partly from her not being ready to hear what she suspected he had been about to say, it quickly became more when Dez’s lips slanted across hers. He shifted his grip from her jacket to the back of her neck, and shuddered against her, humming a low, almost awestruck noise at the back of his throat. That soft, needy sound, so very un-Dezlike, left her helpless to do anything but curl her fingers into his shirt and kiss him back with everything that was inside her.

  She kissed him with the ache of having lost and found him again, the guilt of wanting him far more than she ever had wanted Fallon, and the fiery desire that came from not knowing what was going to happen tomorrow, next week, next year. Because he was right—they needed to take what they could now, because tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed. Anna proved that. The attack inside Skywatch proved it.

  Her entire world coalesced to the taste of him, the heat inside his mouth and the way his skin slid against hers. He vibrated with a raw power that fueled the longing that rocketed through her, the sense of yes, there please, oh, finally. They twined together, her arms around his neck, his hands at her waist, her shoulders, fisting in her hair as a groan vibrated at the back of his throat. But then she eased the kiss, slowly, softly, and drew away from him far enough that she could look up into his eyes, where she didn’t see any secret shadows anymore. Heart shuddering, she reached up to stroke the strong, smooth line of his jaw. And winced when the move tugged at her bandage and the sting of pain echoed through her body to resonate with the other assorted aches and pains.