Aiden felt his gut kick at the fierce light of battle in her eyes. She was stoked, and it was incredibly arousing.
“Can it wait a few minutes?”
She focused on him, on his eyes, and he saw the passion fire in her gaze.
“Hell, yes.”
They went at one another like they’d been parted for a century. Clothes flew and tongues tangled. Panting, they grappled for purchase on smooth skin, moaning as each found a spot or a sensitive area and exploited it for the other’s pleasure.
“Now, now, now,” she demanded, dragging him to the floor.
He wasn’t about to argue. They came together like a storm, all fire and thunder. Every sense attuned, and every nerve aflame.
“Look at me, Cait,” he said, barely holding himself in check as she closed around him like a velvet fist, a pulsing, vibrant heat that he couldn’t deny.
When she opened her eyes, and moaned, cresting to her own climax, he lost control, emptying himself into her with a last powerful thrust of his hips. It was exquisite. It took everything he had, connecting him to her, body, mind and soul.
He managed to shift her, pull her on top, before collapsing to the floor, spent. He felt every nerve, every muscle sing with completion.
It was several long minutes before their breathing calmed, and their heart rates slowed.
“Are we dead?” she murmured, and he heard the satisfaction and the smile in her voice. The faint light from her office gilded her skin, and he ran his hands over her back.
He laughed. “No. I think we proved we’re very much alive.”
“I can’t see.”
“Your eyes are closed.”
“Oh,” she said, her voice amused and a little sleepy. “That explains it.”
They hadn’t managed to actually turn on any lights before beginning to feast on one another, so they were lying in the soft dusky room, recovering.
“How about we send your email, now that we’re sure we’re not dead, and we get some sleep.”
“Mmmmf.” She grunted, pushing herself up. The gleam was back in her eyes. “Email. Right.” She pushed back her hair, blinked. “You distracted me.”
“You’re welcome.”
She laughed and rose, not bothering to gather her clothes and strode purposefully to her office.
“I’ve got the fucker now,” she said.
“That’s my fierce Slip Traveler,” he murmured, listening as the keys clicked and she muttered about motherfucking alien assassins. He grinned.
What had he done? He’d gone and fallen in love with a woman who didn’t exist. A warrior. A guardian. A brilliant, beautiful alien hunter.
Holy hell.
She typed furiously, then hit a final key with a grunt of satisfaction. “Let’s see what the Kith have to say about that!”
The machine hummed and clicked, and he waited in the doorway. He watched her, tense and vibrant in her office chair, naked and beautiful, and he wanted her all over again.
A chime sounded, and she pounced on the machine, opening what appeared to be an email.
“Damn,” she said, but it was an only mildly frustrated oath. “They’re conferring. There’s news on Bartleby.”
“It can wait. Tomorrow’s soon enough for murder.”
“True. What should…”
“I have a suggestion,” he said, interrupting her. She turned and, when she saw him standing there, ready for her, she grinned.
“Oh, yeah.”
Hours later she woke to darkness. She was warm, and she felt safer than she had in the years since the tower came down and changed her life with irrevocable finality. Aiden was wrapped around her, his breathing deep and even.
She traced the line of soft hair down his chest, felt the strength of the muscle beneath the skin. Laying her hand flat over his chest, she felt the beat of his heart.
The steady rhythm pulsed against her hand. Alive. Real.
Holy shit.
For a while she simply lay there, absorbing the feeling, wanting to roll in it like a cat with catnip.
Aiden felt her wake, felt her thoughts brush against his. He too had slept like the dead. Pulling magic, essentially out of the air, took its toll, and hot, intense sex right after was more than enough to wear a body out. He grinned into the darkness.
Not surprisingly, he’d recharged quickly with his own sleep, and the recovery of the magic in the building. He felt…amazing.
When she didn’t speak, didn’t move from her position cradled in his arms he hoped somehow, she’d finally dropped the barriers, forgiven him. Maybe now she’d let him all the way in.
“It was spectacularly scary,” she said softly. “That dark bolt thing you threw. I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“I couldn’t let it get you.”
“Thanks for that,” she said wryly. “I appreciate it.”
“You hit the Aurelian too, though,” he said, thinking back to her cool, steady aim into the darkness, her efficient firing stance, her nonchalant handling of the concerned motorist. “You hit it, then managed to keep it all under the radar.”
“I told you, I was a marine,” she said. “The firing’s easy. That’s reflex. It’s the other stuff, the pretending, that’s harder.” Her smile curved her cheek, pressing into his chest. “Good damn thing I don’t scare easily.”
He knew she didn’t. She was steel, his Cait.
“Too right,” he agreed, banding his arms around her. “You handle yourself like a pro.”
She laughed. “You sound surprised.”
“No, not really, but with your silky hair—” He ran his fingers through it. “—and your gorgeous curves.” His hand played down her face to her shoulder, then cupped her breast. “—you don’t exactly project rough, tough soldier.”
She laughed and the merry sound lifted his heart.
“Caitlin Desiree Patten,” she stated in the darkness, the words snapping out with military precision. “Serial number 453-79-9432. Flight operations. I survived two tours, crashed my plane in Medjugorge, and walked away.” She sighed. “And now, I’m who the Sh’Aitan and the Kith need me to be to protect my planet and my people.”
He’d gotten flashes as she slept, scenes of tangled wreckage, disaster, and of wild looking creatures, some eerily simple in their alienness, others like great cats or lizards.
One scene, with wild, crashing waves and a long-toothed nightmare reaching for her, grabbing her in an impossibly strong grip, would haunt his dreams as well. The sheer terror she’d conveyed as it crossed her mind was enough to make him sweat.
Even as he thought it, he realized they were sharing thoughts, dreamspace.
She didn’t seem to know, however. “We should get back to it,” she muttered, then yawned.
“How about a shower first?”
Snorting out a laugh, she kissed him. “Is that what they call it these days?”
He laughed, and chased her into the bathroom.
When they’d cleaned up, and had gone back to the bedroom, she began to pace. He could see the wheels turning in her head, but couldn’t—and wouldn’t—read her.
“Talk it out, would you?” Aiden said, a small smile playing about his lips. “I can hear a bit of what you’re thinking, since you aren’t really cloaking, but I’d rather be a part of it, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, sorry.” She filled him in. “I need to get the Opthoid I know about. That’s priority one. If I get that one, the other one, if it’s around, will be drawn to it. I can use it as bait to get the second one without any danger to the populace.
“Wait, there are two?” He moved forward to grip her arms. “Since when are there two? And how bad does that make things?”
“Oh, crap, sorry, that’s one of the things they sent me in one of the downloads. Forgot to tell you. They’re pretty sure another one’s on-planet somewhere. Maybe in the States, maybe on another continent. I don’t know.” She paced some more when he dropped his hands, now tugging at her
hair. “Damn foul, horny things.”
“Horny?”
“Yeah, endlessly. Somehow, in all the galaxy, they find one another. No one knows how. And here, on-planet, that’s part of what makes picking this thing up a code red priority. We have to catch at least one, immediately. If the two Ty-Ops hook up, we’ll suffer significant population loss.” She paused in her pacing and made air quotes around significant population loss.
“Not good.”
“No. If they get together, they’ll poison the watershed.”
He thought about the sheer scope of the area she was talking about. “That would suck.”
“Totally,” she agreed. “One’s bad enough. Two? Disaster.” She paced some more. “Thing is, the Aurelian is coming for me now.” She shot him a fierce smile. “Fucker. That was the first foray, last night.”
“You couldn’t have gone for him before that?”
“Not if he had a permit to be here, or some good reason. He didn’t but now? Now it’s not only ethically covered with my bosses, it’s fuckin’ personal.”
Aiden moved to her and took her hands. “That makes two of us.”
“Aiden, it’s not your fight,” she said but stopped at his glare.
“It is,” he declared. “And you won’t shut me out. My city, my beat. That’s pretty fucking personal to me.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
She nodded. “I know, I know.” She pulled her hands away and paced some more. “I get it. I do,” she defended herself when she saw his dubious expression. “But I’ve never had to consider a…a partner…or anyone else in this kind of deal.” She paced away from him, came back. “Hell, I’m in all new territory here.”
“So how do we catch the Whoosit-op before it turns the river and the bay to poison, and cover our collective asses, along with the asses of whichever other senators may be swinging in the breeze with this Aurelian?”
“Well, one thing, we know its back in DC. The Aurelian,” she clarified. “Tonight…last night proved that. And we hurt it,” she said, ticking the points off on her fingers. “It will come for me, get me out of the way, before it goes for another target.”
“Great,” Aiden said, grimacing. He wanted to protest, protect, to keep her from harm. He knew better, but it was what he wanted. He wanted to push danger away, keep her safe.
The good gods knew, however, that in this case, she was the master. She knew the beast and could set the battle plan far better than he could. She was on the front line.
It wouldn’t stop him from standing next to her. “So how do we do both?” he asked. “Get the Ty-Op on Saturday, and prevent the poisoned well scenario, then get the nasty bad guy?”
He waited as she paced back to him and stared at him. He knew what she saw, because it was reflected in her thoughts, and she projected those right out to him.
He won’t back down, won’t let me handle this.
“No, I won’t back off, or step aside,” he said, enjoying the surprise. When her eyes narrowed, he laughed. “Hey, you were projecting.”
“Projecting my ass.” She frowned. After a moment or two of thought, she asked, “Was I really?”
“Both mentally and body language. Yes.”
“Hmmmm.”
“So. The Ty-whatsy first. How do we deal with that?” he prodded, wanting not to argue the point. He would be there, she would be there, neither would be able to stop the other, so they might as well accept it and deal.
After another glare, she huffed out a breath. “Yeah, that first. We have to get onto the towpath and trap it. Since we have a pinpoint, thanks to you, that will be easier. Then lure the other one if it’s around. If the second one’s on another continent, I’ll have to go to where it is and catch it. The one I know about, that’s job one.”
“And the Aurelian?”
“It’s going to come for me right away. It would be enraged that we hit it. And it knows it gave me the advantage. That’ll be a pisser for it.”
“Typical macho bastard,” he quipped, and she smiled.
“Exactly. The focus has to be the Ty-Op. But the Aurelian will come after me.” She stopped, and pondered. “But if I’m on the canal, it’s better, in some ways. Isn’t it pretty deserted this time of year, comparatively? If I got the Ty-Op trapped, even if the Aurelian took me out…”
He cocked his head, smiling faintly. She talked about the possibility of certain death so casually. “I’m sure that serves you somehow, but I’d like to hear how.”
Her own smile was bleak. “Less chance for civilian deaths. And the Kith, my bosses, will come get the Ty-Op if they know I’m dead.”
“Ah.” There was a forbidding thought. “Not my first choice, solution-wise.”
“Mine either,” she said. “I’d like to live through this.”
He thought about the vision he’d had, her dead on the towpath, him in the water, equally dead.
Only a possible future, not a certain one.
“There’s an added benefit, courtesy of the cops,” he said, pushing the vision out of his mind for now. “There won’t be a lot of nighttime activity on the canal, by the Boathouse or down in Georgetown. The cops were down there last night, a side effect of a trip Tank and I took down that way. It’s only a couple of miles past where we got out pinpoint.”
“You were a busy boy.”
“Yeah, I’ll give you the details in a minute. Anyway, the bums and dealers will have left the area. They find new places for a while if the police sniff around too much.”
“And you were there because?”
“You know how I said I’ve had seven visions since you came to town?” he said, and waited for her nod. “Well, I got one of them when Tank and I sat down to talk. There was this guy,” he said, and described the greasy man, and the resonance the criminal had left. “So I was able to give Tank a murder weapon, help him tie up a case.”
“Your expression tells me that wasn’t a picnic.”
“No, but it did give me leverage in getting Tank to pass the word on the senator. Not that it helped Bartleby.”
“We tried,” she said, and he heard the sorrow in her voice. “We tried,” she reiterated. “I just wish we could have warned him sooner, or at least his staff. The news said some of them were killed as well.”
She drew in a deep breath. “The media’s loving this. I’ll bet Chavez is having kittens.” She looked thoughtful, then asked, “Did you see the guy? The one with the hoodie?”
Aiden shook his head. “No, but I didn’t get to watch much of it before I headed out to find you. The whole thing sucks wide,” Aiden said shortly, wishing, as she did, that they’d been able to help, to prevent, what had happened.
Out in the living room, her phone rang, a brisk trill.
“That’s the cell.” She hurried to get it. “You’re the only one who has the number. It can’t be more trouble.”
“I gave it to Tank,” he said quickly. At her scowl, he continued. “If something happened to me, you’re his next line of defense.”
Only slightly mollified, she fumbled the phone out of her bag. “Hello?”
She looked at him, nodded, and without another word, handed the phone to him.
That meant it was Tank. “Bartleby’s dead,” Tank said, without preamble. “But you probably saw that on TV. This thing whatever it is, you got any other way to stop it? You think it’s got more targets?” Tank fired the questions like bullets.
“One.” Aiden answered with bleak honesty, his gaze riveted to Cait.
“Where?”
“Here.”
“Fucking, jumped-up, crack-smoking hell. Who?”
“I can’t divulge that, Tank. I’m not authorized.”
“Don’t you—”
It was Aiden’s turn to hang up.
“Obviously, that was Tank.”
“And?”
“He wanted to know if I thought the wee beastie had another target. I didn’t want to tell him, until I talked to you.”
&n
bsp; Her face stilled. Her features shifted in his Sight. Maybe, if they were lucky, she’d tell him about the blonde/green thing. If they both survived their canal walk, and their monster encounters.
“He can’t help. It isn’t his task” she said, finally, continuing to look stricken.
But Aiden had a thought, and began to grin. When she raised that eyebrow, asking a thousand questions with that one gesture, he laughed.
“I’m not so sure about that. What if we got him to block off the Georgetown access to the C&O tomorrow night—well, tonight, I guess now that it’s after midnight—so we can bait for the Opthoid, then go catch it early Saturday morning? That’s right on schedule. November first. You said it would be easier to catch in the early morning after you’d fed it.”
“Ye-e-s.” She drew out the answer, “that’s a reasonable timeline.”
“If we can get his help, make sure no one sees us get the first Opthoid, that’s one problem solved, right?” Her pacing was contagious, so he took a turn around the room. The activity soothed his body as his mind worried the scenario like a terrier.
“Tomorrow—today’s Halloween. No one will blink an eye if there’s a road blocked off. They’ll just think it’s the police keeping people off the canal because there was a party, or to prevent people from partying.” He warmed to the subject. “With one caught, the second could wait, right? Then we deal with the assassin, and if we survive it, catch the second Opthi-whosits,” he said, talking it out, as he’d encouraged her to do.
“Back to the whatsits-whosits again?”
“Hey, it breaks the monotony.”
The phone rang again. They ignored it.
“It could work,” she mused as he stopped directly in front of her, and took her hands.
“Do we trust each other, Cait?”
“I trust you. Do you trust me?”
“I do.”
“Partners?”
“Partners.”
There was an eternally long pause where they simply looked at one another, weighing, assessing. Aiden finally broke it.
Modern Magic Page 117
