With a shout, Harsh jumped to his feet when his sister stumbled, and again when Xia caught her. Hell, might as well light a match and watch the fire burn. Nikodemus tipped his head to one side and observed. The war-lord was taking everything in. Who the hell knew what Iskander and Durian had told him while they were alone with Nikodemus. Nikodemus might seem all easygoing and shit, but he didn’t tolerate crap or insubordination from anyone. More than any of them, Nikodemus knew they were in a fight for their free existence. He wasn’t going to allow anything or anyone to jeopardize that. Like what could happen if one of his fiends was getting it on with a witch. And not just any witch, either.
Durian pushed away his plate of food and leaned against his chair, one hand stroking the center of his chest, right where Magellan had cut him open. The assassin’s attention was on Alexandrine, and Xia didn’t like it one bit. Durian wasn’t popular among the kin, given what he was. Supposedly he hadn’t been sanctioned in quite some time, not while he was known to be sworn to Nikodemus. But hell, it was a matter of time before the warlord used his weapon now that he had him back, wasn’t it? What better situation than one like this to get it going again. Kill the fiend who got himself tangled up with Rasmus Kessler’s little girl.
And Iskander. He was checking her out like he might be interested in some bedroom athletics with her. In addition to the sexual interest in his eyes whenever he looked at Alexandrine, Iskander was giving off all kinds of crazy magic. Nothing much new there. The guy’s facial tats still had an interior glow.
Oh, yeah. There was Harsh, too. He wanted to kill Xia just for touching Alexandrine. The fiend was going to dice and sauté Xia’s liver if he found out what Xia had done with his precious sister. And for sure Harsh’s magic was one-off—only now Xia thought maybe he had a clue about the cause. Not an idea that gave him the let’s-sit-down-and-have-a-chat-about-me-boinking-your-sister-and-probably-knocking-her-up kind of feeling.
Still holding on to her arm, Xia walked Alexandrine into the kitchen, the burn of too many eyes following along. “Look,” he said to her when he was sure no one was eavesdropping. “I don’t know what—”
“It’s okay, Xia.” She smoothed her jeans over her thighs, sliding her hand to worry at the side seam. “I won’t tell anyone. No worries, all right? Harsh may be my brother, but my personal life is none of his business. It’s not anybody’s business.”
He stared at her for about forever, trying to read her eyes or her expression or her body language, and none of it helped. She had all these tics going; her eyes weren’t focusing, she was fidgeting with her pants and shifting her weight, and yet she had her emotions locked down tight. He had no idea why she was agitated, and he was afraid to start a connection with her. He’d come so close to flaming her out tonight; he didn’t want to risk finishing it off for her.
“I don’t know what you want,” he said. He dragged his fingers through his hair. Well, fuck this wondering shit. He wanted to know. Good news or bad. Broken heart or not. “Is it okay with you if they know about us or what?”
Her eyes narrowed, and she sank onto a chair with her hands clasped behind her head. Her arms shook. “What do you want?”
That was an easy one. “To be with you.” There. He’d said it. He’d put himself totally out there for her. Her turn now.
She looked suspicious, and then understanding dawned. Sort of, because she got it wrong. “In bed.”
“Well, yeah, that, too,” Xia said. And anywhere else he could get her. Maybe he hadn’t spelled it out quite enough. Without a connection going, he was missing a whole other level of information about her state of mind. Conversation floated in from the kitchen. Somebody raised his voice. He blocked it out. “But that’s not what I meant, Alexandrine.”
She didn’t move. Maybe her eyes did. She wasn’t focused on anything that he could tell. Her skin was paler than when they’d arrived. His damn hoodie was way too big on her, and she had her arms tucked into the opposite sleeves. She went white. “I’m going to barf.”
“Put your head down.” Xia moved to her, cupping the top of her skull in his palm and getting her head down and between her knees. She didn’t resist. “Baby,” he said, stroking her head, “you have to breathe. Breathe.”
“I feel like shit, Xia.” Her ribs expanded with a long, slow inhale.
He let go, and she reached up to hold her head. Her fingers tightened over her skull until her fingertips turned white. The whole time, her torso quivered.
He squatted down. “Can I get you anything?”
She lifted a hand and with her head still down, waved a palm at him. He watched her take several deep breaths. After a bit, she lifted her head. “Better,” she said. “That’s better.”
“So we’re not going to mention us?” He stayed where he was, less than a foot from her chair. Close enough to smell his shampoo in her hair, the faint lemon trace of his soap on her skin. Jaysus, he felt like a goddamned asshole. An asshole with a train headed straight for his heart.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind. I mean, why would I?” She lifted up a bit and crossed her forearms on top of her legs. Her head stayed down, though. Avoiding him, he guessed. “Mum’s the word.” She mimed zipping up her lips and throwing away a key.
“What if that isn’t okay with me?” Looking back on things, he could maybe see where she might not understand that, though his opinion of witches in general hadn’t changed, his feelings about her had. She wasn’t anything like the witches he’d known or killed. She was Alexandrine, and he had no business thinking she’d want anything to do with him on a permanent basis. Besides what they already had. And from what she’d said, she was used to getting dumped on by guys who couldn’t deal with what she was. Which was pretty much what she thought he was—a guy who couldn’t deal.
“Xia, I’m still a witch,” she said. She met his gaze. “And Rasmus Kessler is my father.”
He put a hand on her head and drew his fingers through hair that was the exact same white-blond as her father’s. None of his hatred surfaced. Not even a glimmer. From the kitchen came the sound of a chair scraping along the floor.
“What the hell is going on in there?” That was Harsh.
“Yeah,” he said. He squatted down again so he could look her in the eye. “You’re a witch.” He ended up with both hands on her face. “So what?”
Alexandrine bit her lower lip and chewed on it for a while. “Right. Fine. Okay.” Her pupils vibrated. Shit, he’d taken her so close to flaming out tonight that she was all crosswise and fucked up, and she never complained even once. She straightened, but that made her eyes go off again, and she held on to the sides of the chair, looking a bit green. “So, are you my boyfriend or my boy toy?” She leaned toward him, wobbly, and he caught her before she fell off the chair.
“Neither.” That came out harsher than he meant. That had always been his problem. He had a low-key mood and a pissed-off mood and no moods in between. “Alexandrine, I love you.”
“You do not.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Do not.”
He rolled his eyes. Well, he was just going to tell anyone who asked what he’d done with Alexandrine, and she could just deal with it or not. “Look, we’ll argue about that later. Right now, we need to go back in there and deal with Nikodemus,” he said.
“What for?” She slumped on the chair. She’d been through so much tonight that he hated the thought of asking her to do anything more. Sometimes life just sucked. “He’s not going to let you stick around without straightening out a few details. You have some decisions to make.” He kept his arms around her, and she didn’t do anything to extricate herself. Couldn’t, or didn’t want to?
“’Cause I’m a witch?”
“No. Because you’re kin now.” He pressed a fingertip to her forehead and let her feel him. Just a little. Just enough for her to know. The impulse to take things further burned in him, but he didn’t. “He’s going to ask you to swear fealty to him. He can’t
have one of the kin here who hasn’t. That means you need to decide if you’re going to.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Then you can’t be here.”
She fiddled with the too-long sleeves of his hoodie, bringing them down over her hands and clutching the excess in her fists. “Why did you?”
“Because of Carson.” She nodded, all guarded and shit, which made him wonder if she was jealous. “But also because I thought if anyone could do something about the mages, it’d be Nikodemus. And I wanted to be a part of that. Killing mages, I mean.” He pressed his lips together. “I thought there was a good chance I’d get sent after Rasmus. But now I think Nikodemus has other ideas about what to do.”
“Right,” she said with halfhearted cheer. “Everybody loves a winner. Go Nikodemus. Down with the mage-kind.”
“What Nikodemus is doing isn’t about winning or losing, Alexandrine. It’s about surviving.” He got anxious again about how things were going with them. “But now you have to decide if you’re going to be with us.”
She tightened her arms across her stomach. “I’ve always been alone. I think the world means for me to be alone.”
“Alexandrine.” His chest got all tight, but he got past it. “I won’t leave you.”
“Sure,” she whispered. “That’s what they all say, don’t they?”
“Do you want to be with me? If you don’t—”
“Alexandrine?” Harsh came into the kitchen. All in a rush, Xia felt Harsh in a way he hadn’t before. Well, now. Harsh was a piece of work, wasn’t he? He turned to look over his shoulder at the man Nikodemus had made his right hand.
“Goddamn it!” Harsh bellowed. He got himself under control and managed to continue in a more moderate voice. “Get your hands off my sister, Xia.”
He leaned into her like Harsh wasn’t there. “I don’t have any talent for words,” he said to her. “You know that about me. I don’t care who your father is or whether your brother is Harsh Marit, or whether you’re a witch and I’m one of the kin. I want you in my life, Alexandrine.”
“What for?” She put her hands on his shoulders and lifted her head to look into his eyes.
“Goddamn it,” Harsh said.
“Shut the fuck up,” Xia told Harsh.
Nikodemus came out and touched a hand to Harsh’s back. “My man,” the warlord said. He pushed Harsh’s shoulder. “Let them finish here. When they’ve worked out what they need to work out, they’ll let us know. Let’s go.”
Xia returned his attention to Alexandrine. “You put yourself on the line tonight. For me. You came after me, baby. By yourself.” His throat got thick, and he had to wait a bit before he could continue. “Rasmus was only going to do one of two things—take me mageheld again or kill me. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be dead. Or worse. So don’t go telling me I don’t know what you are to me, Alexandrine, or that I don’t know how I feel. You’re it for me. The only one.”
“Says the man who owns my magic.” She touched his hair, brushing some behind his ear. “You must hate me for that.”
“Hate you?” He snorted. “Don’t you get it? Why do you think it’s me”—he jabbed a finger to his chest—“instead of Kynan Aijan?”
“Accident?”
“Let’s get a few things straight here.” He brought Alexandrine off her chair. “There wasn’t any accident about your magic. I’m not your boyfriend, and I’m not your boy toy.”
Her eyes were calm. Quiet. Very settled. “Then what are you?”
“Yours.” Xia brought her into the circle of his arms. “I love you, Alexandrine. I don’t even care very much if you don’t love me back. I want to be with you. If you don’t want to swear fealty to Nikodemus, then I’ll find a way to leave here with you.”
She stayed close to him, pressing herself against him. He watched the doubt in her eyes slowly fade away. “Wow. That’s just really… wow.” He held his breath while she worked away at that. “Are you sure?”
With his arms tight around Alexandrine, he kissed her. A normal kiss at first and then not so normal because her magic was going all freaky. She had no idea about that, of course, but he sure as hell felt her magical reaction. And the rest of what he felt? Well, people who kissed like that ought to save it for a more private place. He turned his head to one side, exposing his throat to her.
“I’m offering myself to you, Alexandrine Marit, as a permanent thing.” Around them the air tingled, and they got a connection going. Not much, but enough that she had a place to anchor herself. “Please, accept me, baby. Because I don’t know what I’ll do if you say no.”
Alexandrine went dead still. He touched a finger to his throat. A line of blood appeared on his skin. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “I feel that. I feel you.”
He drew her head to his neck. Her skin was hot. Too hot for a human. Her eyes were dilated, big round black-as-night pupils nearly obliterating her irises. He was feeling the talisman’s magic even stronger than before. Her witch magic was going off, too. The way her magic pulsed now, he could incinerate the house with a blink.
Her mouth latched onto his throat, and oh, yes, she tasted. He was able to set aside her magic, leave it untouched while he stayed like this with her. “If you say yes, I’m going to bind us,” he said. “The way Nikodemus did with Carson. If that’s what you want.”
She lifted her mouth from his throat. “Do it.”
Before long he’d be wanting to change. Hell, the way he was feeling, he might just take his other form without knowing it. He was twisted higher than he’d been in longer than he could remember. And Alexandrine was just the perfect woman for him.
With his knife, he made a nick in the side of her throat. Blood scent rose between them, and he opened himself to the sensation. Alexandrine pressed herself to him and stared at him. She was kin. He felt her magic, both halves of it. The talisman’s power burned in her, and the magic she was born with flowed through him like cool water, alien but almost knowable. Damn. If he ever learned how to pull the two sides together, he’d be invincible.
“Why does that happen?” she asked. She touched the cut on the side of her neck and came away with blood on her fingertip. His insides went taut. She had no idea. No idea at all what this was doing to him. “Why does this make me feel… hungry for you?”
“That’s how it is for fiends. When one fiend offers to another, there’s a connection. Our magic touches deeper.” He turned her head to one side. “Come in, Alexandrine,” he whispered. He pressed against her, his torso against hers, staying open to her, and it felt good.
In this state, they were open to just about any fiend in the vicinity, which in this case meant Iskander, Durian, Harsh, and Nikodemus, just for starters. They felt good, too. He felt good. And unbearably tight with tension. Better than good. This was right. Alexandrine tilted her head back, and Xia pressed his mouth to her skin; they joined, and just like that, the chaotic power between them swept over them both. He slid a hand around the back of her head, pulled her hard toward him, and bound her to him permanently. Forever. Just like Carson and Nikodemus.
Done. It was done, and Nikodemus could just fuck himself if he didn’t like it.
When they came up for air, it was to an audience of Harsh and Nikodemus. Harsh looked like he was going to pop a vein. Nikodemus looked reserved. Thoughtful. The warlord walked over to the counter and leaned against it, arms over his chest.
“You know, don’t you, Xia, that she can’t be here the way things are now. Probably not you, either, I’m guessing.”
“I know.” The skin up and down his spine tingled. Nikodemus was pulling, and Xia didn’t doubt the warlord could end his life right here and now. His oath of fealty to him was in part responsible for that state of affairs. On the other hand, Nikodemus was one powerful fiend.
“So. How about you explain how you two got this way.” Nikodemus lifted a hand to cut off an objection from Harsh. “Not a word. Your sister’s a big girl. She can deal on her own. R
ight now, I need to hear a few things from them.”
“Thanks,” Alexandrine said.
“One of you better start talking.”
They managed it, mostly with Xia doing the telling because Alexandrine was fading out from the effects of severing so many fiends, and he’d not done her a favor by letting magic into them both. She was the color of chalk and shivering off and on like she had the d.t.’s. By the end and with him leaving a lot of stuff out and Alexandrine chiming in every now and then, they got across the highlights of what had happened since Harsh left for Paris.
“You’re Rasmus Kessler’s daughter?” Nikodemus said when they got to that part. “For real?”
“Yes.” Alexandrine hunched over, and Xia put his arm around her.
“That just sucks,” the warlord said. He looked at Xia like he’d been too near a pissed-off skunk. “You bound yourself to Kessler’s girl?”
“Carson was Magellan’s witch.”
“Yeah, but that changed, didn’t it?” Nikodemus said. He pointed at her. “She can’t change who her father is.”
“I totally did that on purpose,” Alexandrine said. “Picking Rasmus Kessler to be my dad. Look, I’m not the only witch or mage who got tossed out for failing the magical prelims or whatever it is they do when we’re three. There’s a lot of us who don’t feel the love for the people who threw us out.” She directed this at Nikodemus. “And don’t go thinking I’m the only witch who ended up abandoned on the streets, either.”
“No,” Nikodemus said. “Matter of fact, I don’t think that. Kind of intriguing, don’t you agree? Later—if it works out that there’s a later—you and I are going to have a nice long talk about some of your buddies.”
“Maybe.”
He nodded to himself. “Xia explain to you about fealty?” Nikodemus asked.
My Forbidden Desire Page 29
