She touched his hand as if to reassure herself that he was really there. He caught it and rubbed her palm with his thumb.
“I’m fine. A little sore, but nothing serious. I woke up, and Crice insisted on a debriefing or I’d have been here sooner.” She had come to the hospital. He let out a breath.
“I got the sanitized version of the story, but what happened?”
She let go of his hand to scoot up and cross her legs, sliding her tongue over her dry lips as she did. The small gesture sent blood rushing to his dick. Why did that turn him on so much? But then if he was honest, everything about her turned him on. Always had. But he’d ignored the awareness, convincing himself his feelings for her were limited to friendship. It’s why he’d taken her leaving so badly. He could’ve accepted her quitting the force, but not leaving him. That wound had continued to bleed and fester.
It was time to face it and deal with it.
Eyes shadowed, Kayla told him all that had happened. She kept her voice emotionless, but her hands knotted on the blanket, giving away her anxiety.
“Your grandmother is inside the sword?” he asked when she’d finished.
Her mouth twisted down. “She and the others who . . . contributed . . . to the sword’s creation.”
Ray leaned forward, taking her hand again. “God, Kayla. I’m sorry.”
“We weren’t close.”
But her expression belied her words. She obviously cared more than she was willing to say. Ray didn’t press her. She was too raw and still coming to terms with all that had happened in the last few days. He wasn’t about to make it worse.
“You’re not hurt?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Sore. Tired. A little dented.”
Strained silence fell between them. Ray knew he needed to talk about the two of them, but how to start?
“Crice wants me to head up a new division,” he said finally. “Supernatural crime. Wants to hire witchkin. Says we have to start paying more attention to those crimes.”
“About time. I guess having a couple gods throw down in the middle of the city makes an impact,” she said wryly. “But I’m glad. Congratulations. You totally deserve this,” she said and reached out to hug him.
He held her loosely, fighting the urge to pull her in tight and kiss her. Reluctantly, he let her pull away, but he retained hold of her hand. An uneasy frown creased her brow as she glanced down.
Now or never. “I have something I need to ask you,” he said.
Understanding dawned on her face. “I can’t.”
It kicked him in the gut. His expression tightened and he pulled away.
“That’s it? Just . . . can’t? You won’t give me a chance at all?”
“It’s not about you,” she said, scooting forward and sliding her feet to the floor, her legs between his as they faced each other. “I can’t even think about being a cop again until I figure out what this guardian-god thing means. If not for that, I’d be there so fast your head would spin.”
Ray’s head was already spinning. He felt as if he were a ping-pong ball, bouncing back and forth between hope and despair. “I wasn’t going to ask you to come back.”
Kayla jerked back, her cheeks flushing. “Why the hell not? I’m not a good enough cop for you?”
He ran his hands through his hair. “You’re one of the best I’ve known. I’m not asking you to come back because I’d be your boss and I don’t want to be.”
Her brows drew together. “Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because? Just because? That’s all? How old are you? Twelve? What’s so wrong with being my boss?”
Ray opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. The moment stretched. He needed to say something. Do something.
Before he could think about the wisdom of just going for it, he kissed her.
Chapter 26
Kayla
KAYLA STIFFENED as Ray’s lips pressed against hers. He was kissing her? Why?
She didn’t care. A whirlwind of sparks swept through her, and she gave a little gasp. Ray took advantage, pulling her closer and sliding his tongue between her lips. Kayla went up in flames. She curled her arms around his neck and made a purring sound in her throat. He deepened the kiss, and a wild explosion of aches and pleasure detonated inside her like fireworks.
Abruptly he pulled her to her feet, turned her around, and sat on the couch, pulling her down to straddle him, her dress riding up her thighs. His hands caressed her back. An arm came around her hips and pulled her tight against him. She felt his hardness against her and couldn’t help but rock her hips in response.
That seemed to flip a switch, and his kiss turned hungry and desperate. He slid a hand up her thigh and ribs and cupped her breast, lightly thumbing her nipple. She’d been so long without being touched she nearly broke apart right there. She made a little whimpering sound and pressed into him.
His hands swept over her, urging her closer, as if that were even possible. He pulled away, dropping hot kisses along her neck, pulling aside the strap of her dress to string them along her shoulder. She tilted her head to give him better access, her heart pounding as if she’d run five miles uphill.
He pushed his hands up along her ribs and brushed his thumbs across both nipples. Kayla nearly jumped out of her skin like he’d hit her with a thousand watts of electricity. Heat streaked through her, and the needy ache low in her belly intensified, becoming nearly unbearable. He gave a smug chuckle and this time circled her nipples. She moaned and squeezed her legs against his and rocked her hips forward in silent demand.
Ray sucked in a sharp breath and locked both arms around hers, yanking her against him and grinding into her.
Kayla clutched him as her brain went nova. The pleasure was beyond anything she could remember. Sex with the few men she’d been with had been nice, but hardly mind-blowing. Never as good as this, and there were still layers of clothing between them. What would it be like to be skin on skin with Ray? Have his mouth on her breasts? Have him buried inside her?
The only thing she knew for sure is she wanted to know. Now.
She slid her hands down and pushed up his shirt, her fingers gliding over the hard ripples of muscle. She delighted in the way he tensed, his heart thudding rapidly under her hand as she stroked the flat plane of his pecs.
Then sudden panic made her brace her hands and push back from him. His brows winged down over his dark eyes. He held her hips tight so that she couldn’t climb off him.
“What’s wrong?” he growled.
“What’s going on? I don’t—” She bit her lips and shook her head, words evaporating.
He spoke slowly as if choosing his words, his voice gravelly with emotion. “I’m explaining why I don’t want you working for me.”
“I—help me out here. What does that have to do with kissing me?”
He grimaced. “I can’t date a subordinate. Against policy.”
It took Kayla a few seconds to register what he was saying. “Date? Us? Me? Why?”
A tense smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “I like kissing you, for one.”
“I like kissing you.”
His smile softened, and his eyes flamed. “I noticed.”
“You don’t want to go out with me,” Kayla said though her heart had begun to gallop with wishful hope.
The scowl returned. “Why not?” He shook his head. “No, don’t answer that. I don’t care that you’re witchkin or that you’re a god. I don’t care that you turn into a water dragon, though you are beautiful in that form as well as your human one. I don’t care that you scavenge for a living, especially since I know you’re a walking weapon. I’m over what happened four years ago. I’m beyond sorry for making it impossible for you to trust me. Does that cover it? If you’
ve got any other reasons I don’t want to be with you, put them on the table now so I can tell you how much I don’t give a shit about them.”
He waited for her to speak, but Kayla could only stare. He was serious about this. Really, really serious.
“Oh, and I also don’t give a shit about your father. I’ll bury him if he tries to hurt you or us.”
Us.
“What happens when we break up?” she asked, throat dry.
He flinched back, his face closing up, eyes cold and bleak as an arctic winter. “When we break up?” he asked harshly.
“Okay, if,” she said. “What happens if we break up?”
He glared at her a long moment. “Let me be clear. I’m in this for the long haul. I’m in love with you, and I don’t plan to walk away. So, if or when we break up is entirely up to you.”
It was her turn to stare, her brain scrambling to digest his declaration.
“You love me? Since when?” Her voice, when she found it, sounded angry.
“Christ, Kayla.” He dug his fingers through his hair and then ran them up her arms. “You have no idea how much I wanted to gut Logan just for taking you to dinner, and then you showed up at your father’s mansion together and I almost broke his arm for touching you.”
He pulled her closer to him. “We can do this. If you want to. Do you?”
His entire body tensed, and his jaw knotted as he waited for her answer. He dug his fingers into her hips and she could feel his arms shaking. He really meant it. He loved her. She’d never had anyone say that to her before. No one single person ever. Not even her father. If her mother had, it was before Kayla could remember.
“Kayla?”
She swallowed. “I’m sorry. I just—” She rubbed her hands over her face. “God this is humiliating.”
He tugged her hands down, wrapping them in his warm grip. He looked confused. “What’s humiliating?”
She averted her gaze, her cheeks flushing hot. “Nobody has ever told me they loved me before. Wow. That’s not only humiliating, it’s pathetic.”
“It’s fucking criminal. But then again, given your family, I guess not surprising. What about your mom?”
“They divorced when I was young. Alistair had money and lawyers, though he told me she was delighted to take a payoff and leave. I never looked for her. As long as I didn’t know, I could imagine she loved and wanted me and that Alistair had lied. And yet another pathetic point to me.”
“Don’t do that. It’s not pathetic. Your family failed you, and that’s on them, not you. Now, I don’t suppose you could get back to the question. I’m dying here. Do you want me?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
She nodded.
The tension didn’t leave his body. “Why?”
“That’s not enough?”
“No. I need more.”
Saying the words was harder than she imagined. Just as she’d never had them said to her, she’d never said them to anyone else. Her mouth went dry, and her tongue seemed to stick to the roof of her mouth. All the same, she wanted to say them.
She leaned her forehead against his. “Because I could live without you, but I wouldn’t want to. I’ve done that for four years, and I wasn’t doing much more than existing. Walking away from you nearly broke me. I never dreamed you could accept what I’ve become, much less love it. Love me. But you’d better be sure this is really what you want because if we stop this now and stay friends, I’ll survive, but leave me in a week or a month or a year and I won’t.”
The words poured out in a flood. Tears stung her eyes, and emotion knotted her throat.
His answer was to drag her down, twisting so that she lay beneath him on the couch. He kissed as if like he’d never get enough.
“Whoa! Sorry to interrupt you teenagers. I did knock.”
Ray jerked his head up and swore. Kayla couldn’t have agreed more.
“Go away,” she groaned.
“Love to, but you should probably meet your new roommate first,” Zach said.
“Roommate?” Ray pushed up to his feet, pulling his shirt down. He didn’t seem in the least bit embarrassed to be caught making out on the couch like two teenagers. That made one of them.
Kayla stood as well. She touched her fingers to her swollen lips, her cheeks flushing hotter. She sidled away from Ray, but he snatched her hand and tugged her back, slipping his arm around her shoulders.
It was a statement.
She slid her arm around his waist, a shiver running through her. Not because of the contact, though touching him dumped gas on the fire doused by her uninvited guests. It was because she could touch him, something that had been so taboo before that it felt like she was getting away with something. Deciding she wanted more, she slid her fingers up under his shirt to explore the warm smooth skin just above his belt. His muscles jumped, and his arm tightened around her shoulders. Her cheeks heated with her daring. Who’d have ever thought she’d be allowed?
Zach stood just inside the door, grinning at them like an idiot. He gave her a smug I told you so look, and she resisted the urge to flip him off. Behind him stood Raven and a slender woman with long black hair. She looked emaciated and gaunt. Her coppery skin had an ashen cast, and she had scarecrow arms and hair that was dull and crisp like straw. Black tattoos flowed along the edges of her hairline.
When Kayla met her black gaze, ancient knowing and defiance stared back. Despite looking as though she was halfway to becoming a zombie or vampire, she resonated power. She had to be the Obsidian Butterfly that Nietzche-cheese had talked about.
Her roommate. Crap. Ray wasn’t going to like this one bit.
“What’s going on?” Ray demanded. “Who is she? What do you mean—roommate?” He’d gone into cop mode, targeting the heart of the issue with sniper-like precision.
“This is Itzpapalotl,” Raven said. “Also known as the Obsidian Butterfly. The one the other gods were hunting.”
“Why?” Kayla let go of Ray and came around the coffee table, stopping just in front of the other goddess. Finally, some answers. “What makes you so important to them? Why did you come here?”
She felt Ray come up behind her.
“I made them angry,” she said in a husky voice that sounded a lot stronger than the rest of her looked.
“No shit. How?”
“I did not obey their rules.”
“So they want to kill you?”
Izta-pops-a-lot, or whatever her name was, nodded. “It is so.”
“What rules in particular?” Kayla didn’t let her annoyance at having to dig for the information get away from her. She had too much experience interviewing uncooperative witnesses and suspects to lose her cool.
“I rule Tamoanchan. I rule Tamoanchan,” Itza repeated with bitter emphasis on the I. “They do not tell me who may enter or who must leave. They do not tell me who is worthy and who is not. I am a Tzitzimitl—hunter from the stars, vengeance in the darkness, defender of the weak.”
“If you think that answered the question, it didn’t,” Kayla said. “Try again. What rules didn’t you obey?”
“I allowed the spirits of Grutte Pier’s wife and children into Tamoanchan, though they are not of the People.”
Grutte Pier, the blond giant. “Tamoanchan?”
“It is the land Between, after death and before birth, an oasis of rest and hope. His wife and children were hunted, and I gave them refuge. My act angered the others. They decreed outsiders did not belong in Tamoanchan and demanded I expel them. I do not take orders.”
“So they decided to kill you?”
A shake of her head. “No. Epizotal—a Tzitzimitl sister—declared me unfit to guard Tamoanchan. She wishes to steal it from me. But I must be taken to her altar and then
the ritual performed. Then she would take it and I would die.”
Kayla considered that information. “She sent two hench-gods to bring you back?”
“Nitziquiza and Zepatiloa,” she clarified. “They have long hated me and were willing to do her bidding.”
Her explanation didn’t fit the events—the spreading of the white powder and the unleashing of the three creatures, designed to kill a god, not capture her. “Then why would they actually try to kill you if their boss needs you alive for this ritual?”
“They vent their anger. They are tired of the hunt, of being bound to my sister. They would take me back for the reward she offers them if they could, but are willing to kill me rather than continue the hunt. I die and they are free. Since I am not, Epizotal will send them for me again.”
Kayla frowned. That the two red gods would be free if they didn’t actually complete their mission seemed stupid. Plus, the bastards had seemed a whole lot of determined to return and take Itza-pop down. So, either the goddess was lying, or she didn’t know what she was talking about.
“And your buddy, Grutte Pier? He killed a lot of innocent people to make this.” Kayla gestured to the sword she’d stashed in the umbrella bucket. She was going to have to find someplace a lot more secure to put it. “The crimson twins said you gave him the recipe. That he couldn’t have done it without you and that makes you just as responsible in my book.”
“This was the pact. He protects me so I can protect his family. The sword was the only weapon he could use to succeed.”
Classic ends justify the means.
Kayla didn’t care that the goddess or whatever she was had been trying to save herself from certain death. Her life wasn’t more valuable than those her henchman had killed to make the sword. Not that Kayla could entirely fault either of them. She’d investigated too many domestic violence cases not to know that people did horrendous things out of desperation. It was human. And apparently divine. If it were her? If Ray’s life was on the line? Would she have killed innocent souls for him?
The Witchkin Murders Page 39
