by Jaime Rush
He brushed his finger across her mouth, wishing he could kiss her. She’d almost died. The reality of that crushed him as much as his punctured lung. He drew in shallow breaths, each one a knife in his chest. Then he collapsed next to her.
Treylon was sure his contact at the Bend was holding out on him, just to be difficult. And it was making things difficult. The Caidos were withering, the Deuces and Dragon children fading. He needed more power, and he was getting less.
His fingers gripped his phone, ready to call and…what, beg? Again? He released it, humiliation and anger washing over him. Gemini and his boss no doubt loved having this kind of sway over him, especially since they thought Treylon’s panic over the solar storm was unfounded. Of course, they were right. Still, many Crescents were worried about the effects of the storm, just like the Mundanes had been worried about December 21, 2012, and the end of 1999. It was plausible, and the Bend had happily taken his money and supplied him with children. Until recently.
Let them laugh at him, as some had laughed when everything fell apart twenty years ago. The Dragon woman named Willow had escaped and gone to the Guard with allegations that he’d been keeping her and other children captive. While those sympathetic to the cause of freeing the gods and angels had intervened, they had also demanded that he step down from his esteemed position on the Concilium. They thought he was carrying things too far and, worse, jeopardizing their own positions. Not many Dragon and Deuce members would approve of him using their children for his goals, no matter how important.
He was exiled for a time. Only Silva had asked after his welfare, wanting desperately to play the role of son. But Treylon couldn’t muster up that kind of affection, not after Kasabian had betrayed and nearly ruined him. He had no need for a son, only devoted servants.
The phone rang. Richard Talbot, an old friend who was still on the Concilium. He answered at the same time that someone knocked on his door.
“Hello, Richard,” he said.
Silva opened the door and came inside. He looked pale, haggard. Treylon lifted his finger. Wait.
“Are you having any problems over there?” Talbot asked.
His gut tightened, and he looked at Silva. “Are we having a problem?”
Silva nodded. “Well, were having a problem, but it’s been…taken care of.”
Treylon turned back to the call. “What’s going on over there?”
“The nosy Vega and, oddly enough, a Muse from the building broke into my condo looking for the boy. Fortunately he was already on his way to you. But then the man driving the Hummer encountered an issue. He was being followed. He could only give me cursory details, as he is now on his way back to my private estate to hide the vehicle. The police will no doubt be looking for it.”
Treylon turned his attention to Silva. “What happened?”
“Kasabian…he was the one following.”
Silva might as well have hit him with a two-by-four. “My son, Kasabian?”
“He knows what we’re doing. His memories have returned. I was hoping to take care of him without you knowing. So you didn’t have to be put in the position of killing him.”
“You knew he was going to cause trouble and you didn’t tell me?”
Silva winced at his booming voice. “I was protecting you.”
Treylon had forgotten momentarily that Talbot was on the line. He told him, “Let me know what you find out from the Vega.”
“I’m heading to a Concilium meeting so I can’t interrogate them right now. But I’ll see to it as soon as I return.”
Treylon disconnected, steepling his fingers on his desk. “I don’t need to be protected. Or spared difficult decisions.” It had been embarrassing, his indecision when he’d been faced with terminating Kasabian and the other runaways. He had taken a big chance by relying on the memory lock. Now it had blown up in his face. “Tell me everything.”
Like a child admitting his transgressions, Silva relayed Kasabian’s intrusion at the facility. “I ordered the driver to ram Kasabian’s car, and I used my magick to send it over the railing. He’s…dead.”
That word traveled through Treylon’s veins like poison, leaving a cold trail in its path. “How can you be sure? He could have Leaped out.”
“My magick followed him all the way down, keeping him from Invoking. It’s been on the news, a bystander’s recording of the accident being played ad nauseam. The car hit hard and sank fast. I don’t think he or the person with him could have survived. I checked his apartment and there’s no sign of him. Nor was I able to Leap to him.”
Treylon couldn’t let himself think about Kasabian’s death, not right now. He focused on Silva. “If you ever keep important details from me again, I will kill you.”
Chapter 17
Kye was on a wide and nearly deserted beach. Heat rose from the sand, and the sun seared her from above. She felt the weight of a hand resting on her stomach and looked over to see Kasabian lying on a towel next to her.
He smiled, and her heart flipped over. When she thought he would say something endearing, he said, “You shouldn’t want me kissing you anywhere.”
Huh?
Suddenly the beach lurched sideways, and he threw his arm out to try to keep her from falling forward. Her eyes opened, and she gasped at the sudden change of scenery. Nothing was moving now. And she wasn’t on the beach but on the floor of her living room. Vlad was reclining on the top of the sofa watching her.
The weight of the hand on her stomach was real, though. Kasabian’s arm lay across her. She visually followed that arm to his bare shoulder, his ethereal wings. A faint current of energy pulsed over him, casting a glimmer across his skin. She felt it flow from his hand into her.
He was asleep, or unconscious, but alive. She could see his chest rise and fall, feel the heat from his hand. Dried blood covered his lips and matted his hair. The coppery scent filled the air. Panic jumped her heartbeat as she searched for the source of the blood. His lower lip bore a faint gash, but it was healing as she watched. Stunning.
He had healed her. Kye didn’t remember it but sensed that he had. She lifted her hand to her cheek, feeling dried blood there, too. Her pants were damp and cool and smelled salty. The pieces began to knit together, driving across the causeway, getting rammed and going over the edge. The heart-stopping feeling of falling and then nothing. She couldn’t recall hitting the water or anything after that.
Kasabian had Leaped them back here. Healed her first, no doubt. And now he was lying on his back, his body repairing itself. She studied his face, so beautiful and innocent. He was only one of those things. But he drew her very soul as no one ever had.
Vlad meowed as he jumped to the floor. She stroked his back, but her gaze remained on Kasabian. She hadn’t realized how long his eyelashes were, how perfect his cheekbones. His lip was now fully healed, and the bruise on his chest the size of the steering wheel was fading.
His fingers twitched, then tightened against her skin. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. She saw the relief on his face, felt it surge through her.
“We’re all right,” she said in a soft voice. “Thanks to you.”
He searched her face. “I thought I’d lost you.”
Because he had her. Those earlier words came back, filling her with the same deep sense of connectedness as the first time.
His expression sobered. “Jonathan. We did lose him.”
That piece fell into place in the remnants of her memories just prior to the crash. Her heart ached at being so close and losing him. “If he was in the vehicle.” She looked at the clock. “It’s been a couple of hours since we followed the Hummer.”
Kasabian got to his feet, looking like something from a dream in only jeans and those wings.
“Stay there for a moment,” she asked. “I just want to soak you in.”
“Kye,” he said, the word laced with a plea. Agony.
She tried to lighten the moment. “You’re eye candy. Don’t read too much in
to it.”
“I want to read too much into everything. That’s the problem.” He bowed his shoulders and pulled in his wings where they settled across his back. He took his cell phone from his pocket. “It still works.” He ran his hands down his jeans. “They only got wet up to my thighs. No message from Hayden. They might be hiding, waiting for the right time to act. We can’t even get back into the Tower to find out what happened. Or help.”
He sent a short text, and then his phone rang. “It’s Cory, one of the guys who runs Harbor. Yeah?” he said into the phone.
Kye started to rise, and Kasabian held out his hand to help. She took it, feeling his fingers close over hers. As soon as she was on her feet, he released her.
“I’m fine,” he was saying. Kasabian whispered to her, “Turn on the news…Yeah, that was my car. Look, don’t say anything to anyone. We’re fine…yes, it’s related to the missing kids.” He ran his fingers back through his hair. “I’ll be in touch.”
Kye found one of the local channels and sucked in a breath at the shaky video coverage of the Hummer smashing into their car. She could see the line of black magick snaking from the Hummer to the Lotus, but it would look like smoke to any Mundane.
The person who’d taken the video on his cell phone had captured the car hitting the water. Kye dropped down onto the coffee table, her legs unable to hold her up.
Kasabian disconnected and came over, squeezing her shoulder. “I suppose the police will track the car to me. Until then, let them sort out the mystery. They won’t be able to bring the car up for a while. If ever.”
“Your car…”
“It’s only a car.”
The news camera panned the sparkling water that showed no signs of the car now. According to the anchor, they were looking for the Hummer and any information as to the owner of the Lotus. Was it an execution? Road rage?
Kye tuned out the witnesses excitedly relaying what they’d seen. “What do we do now? Besides taking a shower. Separate showers,” she added when a voice in her head had added together. “Just in case you were thinking…” She had a feeling that his Shadow had been thinking the same thing by the glimmer in his eyes.
“Yes, separate. Definitely separate.” And she could tell he hated the idea as much as she did.
“Go ahead and use the bathroom down the hall. I’m sure you want to get this blood off you as much as I do.”
Once under the hot water, Kye inspected her body, amazed that Kasabian had healed every injury, even bruises. And she must have had plenty if the blood was any indication. She washed, scrubbing her hair three times to remove the evidence of what had to have been a severe head injury.
Staring at the blood as it swirled down the drain made reality crash in on her. She could have died. They’d lost Jonathan. She hadn’t seen him, but she felt that he’d been in the Hummer. Scenes flashed in her mind, the boy’s picture with those haunted brown eyes. Smashing into the concrete barrier and then flying over. The damned orb not sticking. She started shaking.
Shock, fear, and failure pushed up inside her like a volcano and then erupted. The tears got lost in the water. She hoped the shower covered the sound of her crying. She leaned against the cool tile, pressing her cheek against it.
The door to the bathroom opened, and she saw Kasabian’s silhouette leaning in through the steamy shower door. “You okay?”
Of course, he could feel her grief. But by the alarm in his voice, he wasn’t sure what was causing it.
“I need to…cry. Release. I’m okay.” She didn’t sound the least bit convincing to her own ears. “Just go.”
Those moments in the living room with Kasabian had weakened her. This situation had weakened her. And mostly, he weakened her. She closed her eyes, willing him to leave. The door closed softly. Thank goodness. She couldn’t fight her need right then. She turned and nearly gasped.
He was leaning against the glass door, his back to her. “Kye, talk to me.”
Why didn’t she feel annoyed that he hadn’t listened to her? At least he was giving her visual privacy. She could see that he wore a towel and nothing else. He’d come directly from his shower when he’d felt her distress.
“You don’t have to fix me. I just need to process my feelings.”
“So process them with me. Remember how you stayed with me after I’d been Stripped? It’s my turn now.”
His offer made her choke back a sob. Maybe if she stopped crying, he’d leave. Breathe, breathe, suck it in. “I’m not comfortable sharing my feelings.”
“Let me get this straight: you’re all right with people sharing their intimate thoughts and feelings with you, but you don’t like to do the same.”
She wrapped her arms around her waist. “Exactly.” She laughed. “Ironic, isn’t it?”
“Just a little. But you can’t hide from me. I feel you, your joy and darkness, and all those other things you’d rather not feel. And right now you’re in the dark. Tell me why, and I’ll go away.”
Fine. She’d pour out her guts. “I failed Jonathan.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“If I’d been able to make the orb stick, we’d know where he was. We’d know where all the children are. I couldn’t use a stupid, simple scry orb.” Tears surged again, making her choke out the words, “See, I am worthless.”
He stepped inside the shower and gathered her in his arms. He held her so tenderly, so chastely, it made her cry even more.
He smoothed his hand down the length of her hair with one hand while the other held her close. “You’re the reason we even knew about the Hummer leaving. You’re very worthwhile.” He continued stroking her hair. “If you only knew how much you mean to me.”
His words settled in her soul like a hot coal melting away the chill. Meant how? Her hands had automatically moved to his back when he’d pulled her close. She felt his muscles moving beneath his skin as he stroked her hair.
“I wasn’t thinking about you being naked when I came in here. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. I’d better go. I’m trying to be good, like you told your mother I was,” he murmured, and she could hear his struggle. “I want to be good. I don’t want to mess up your life any more than I already have.” He started to back away, proving that he was a much better man than he thought.
She didn’t let him go. “Don’t be good. Love me.” She met his eyes. “Can you love me?”
He made a sound deep in his throat as he brushed wet hair from her cheek. “Too much.”
She couldn’t interpret that or the feelings coursing from him. Lust was easy to identify, but not this deep warmth. I want to matter to you. She reached toward his face, impossibly beautiful as all Caidos were, and yet, even more so. Because she saw his strength and his weakness…for her.
She threaded her fingers through his wet hair, around the back of his neck, and pulled his mouth down to hers. His kiss was ardent at first, but he kept it to a slow, sensual dance. He gathered her long hair in one hand, tugging her head back for a better angle. Now she could feel his erection, but he wasn’t grinding it into her. Its hard length only brushed against her stomach. She resisted the urge to press closer.
He turned off the shower and stepped out, leading her with him. His wet towel fell away, leaving him naked. He reached for another towel and dried her. She closed her eyes and sank into the feeling of the terry cloth rubbing across her skin, wrapping around her hair, and then scrubbing her scalp.
He grabbed another towel from the stack and started to dry himself. She took it from him and did the same for him. It was a selfish act, as it turned out. She soaked in his beauty the same way the towel soaked up the beads of water.
Now he led her to the bedroom, to the bed. The muscles of his jaw ticked as he visibly held back the Dragon Shadow from pouncing. He lay down next to her, his appreciative gaze taking her in. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, mirroring her thoughts about him. He moved his mouth down her body, leaving a trail of devastatingly tender kis
ses across her breasts, her stomach, her thigh, all the way down to her ankle. Then he bent her knee and kissed the bottom of her foot. He kissed each toe, so tenderly, with such care, that she saw her feet in a whole new way—as cherished.
His eyes took in each part of her as he moved up her thigh, as though she were the most precious object he had ever seen and handled. He sent waves of pleasure through her even though he’d not touched her intimately.
After he had treated her other leg with the same exquisite care, he rolled her onto her stomach. His hands massaged her shoulders, arms, and down her back. He worked her muscles, turning them to jelly beneath his agile hands. Inside, desire built like a smoldering fire. His fingers worked her scalp, then circled her ears. Even though she could feel the tip of his erection against her thigh, he took his time…loving her. She wanted him. Not just physically, but his heart, his soul. Everything. And that was much scarier than wanting sex.
She rolled over and tugged him down to the bed next to her. He stretched out, still running his hand along her side. His thumb brushed the outer swell of her breast, and he let it linger before continuing to draw his fingers down to her hip.
“Kye,” he whispered, but said nothing else. As though he was content just to speak her name.
She traced her finger along the planes of his face, the silky arch of his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose. When she reached his lips, he sucked her finger in and touched the tip with his tongue. She inhaled at the sensation, of how it correlated directly to her private region. He slowly drew it out and kissed her palm, her wrist.
She wanted his mouth on hers, and she leaned forward and kissed him. A slow, sweet kiss at first. He captured her mouth with his, drawing her lower lip gently between his teeth. She opened to him, sliding her tongue inside to trace the edge of those perfect, straight teeth. He slid his hand around the back of her neck and deepened the kiss. He made slow, seductive love to her mouth. Not driven by mindless lust or an out-of-control passion.
