by C. S. Wilde
A laugh rolled in her chest. Vengeful prick.
Incapable of waiting any longer, Mera raised one of her legs, opening herself to him. “Don’t leave a girl waiting, Detective.”
“Never.” He positioned his shaft at her entrance, and with one hard shove, he thrust into her.
“Ah!” Even after spending the entire night making love, she still needed to adjust to him.
“Fuchst ach, Mera,” he grumbled as he thrust slowly in and out, savoring every inch of her. His hand held up her leg, spreading her widely for him. “Can’t… stop.”
He better not stop!
Mera was perfectly aware she would be late for work, but she simply didn’t care. The two sides of her, dutiful detective and ravenous siren, no longer clashed. They were finally in perfect synchrony, and they both agreed that staying in bed with Bast had been the best damn idea they’d ever had.
When he increased his speed, his hips slamming against hers as he pounded into her, Mera couldn’t even remember her own name.
“Bast,” she moaned, drooling down there, over his length and on her thighs. Her back arched as the first wave of pleasure hit her. Chewing on her lower lip, she stopped herself from screaming.
His rushed breaths slammed against the back of her neck. “You’re everything.”
Increasing his thrusts, he rammed deeper into her.
Mera’s fingers clawed at the sheets desperately as she rose within herself again. The ruthless fucking beneath her waist, the feel of her strong, warm male looming over her while he claimed her so completely… it was too much.
“You cruel ass!” she yelled before letting go, coming hard around him.
Her loud moans dashed from the bedroom, echoing through the rest of the apartment. Thank heavens Mrs. Templeton, her downstairs neighbor, was partly deaf. If the rest of the neighbors had functioning ears, though… yeah, they would be hearing the concert.
Bast’s lips tilted into a smile against her neck. “I want an encore, kit-ten.” He drawled her nickname, savoring each syllable. Letting go of her leg, he began rubbing the sensitive pearl between her thighs.
Merciless faerie!
A couple of rubs, and Mera was pushed into an explosion that left her momentarily blind. She lost her sense of self, of place, taken by an endless burst of delirium. A mighty roar scraped the walls of her throat, one even Mrs. Templeton would have heard.
“Halle fuchst ach, min hart!” Bast barked before releasing into her, filling Mera with his warm streams once again.
She faintly remarked that he had bitten her shoulder with his fangs. Slowly, she returned to the now, his shaft still inside her. They both panted, gathering their surroundings.
“I’m certain I put a halfling in you.” His hand drifted lazily to her belly, drawing invisible circles on her flesh. “We’ve been at it like hares in heat.”
A giddy sensation bloomed in her core, flushing her cheeks. The idea of getting pregnant should not be doing that to her.
“Not so fast, partner. I’m on birth control.” She always took her monthly tea on time.
Thankfully.
He untangled from her, his length sliding out with a wet sound. Mera turned to her hart, losing herself in Bast’s fierce blue irises for a moment, before a crazy thought came to her.
She hoped their kid would inherit their father’s eyes.
Their nonexistent kid.
Shaking her head, she smiled. “This is madness. I’ve never done madness, Bast.”
“I know a thing or two about it.” He caressed her cheek, watching her lovingly. “I’ve been through so much pain in my life, but if that was the price of admission to this moment, I would gladly pay it all over again.”
So would she.
Mera suddenly remembered what he’d told her in their shared dream, back when they were investigating the Summer King’s murder. Back when they weren’t Hollowcliff’s finest yet.
Poseidon in the trenches, it seemed like an eternity ago.
“I claim you, Mera Maurea,” Bast had declared, “I claim you under the moon and stars. I claim you under the night sky.”
Deep down, even stunned by her siren and trapped in a dream, he had recognized their connection. He barely knew her then, and yet he’d claimed her.
It seemed only fitting Mera did the same.
“I claim you, Sebastian Dhay.” The vow flowed easily out of her mouth, almost as if Mera couldn’t control her own words.
She cupped his cheek, taking in the spectacular male in front of her. How lucky she was…
“I claim you under your silver moon and my furious sea. I claim you through the shallows and the trenches. I claim you under the night sky and the realms of the deep.”
He stared at her, shock clear in his face, until he nodded slowly. “You’re mine. I’m completely yours.”
She nibbled at his bottom lip, her naked chest pressing against his. “Since we have that out of the way…”
Slowly reaching for her hair, Bast curled a lock around his finger before drowning her in a long, sultry kiss. “Halle. Getting out of this bed will be a problem.”
Chapter 18
They were late, of course.
Bast had winnowed them to the precinct, turning Mera’s usual thirty-minute commute into an eyeblink, and still, they were monumentally late.
‘Worth it,’ her siren countered.
Absolutely.
He was getting better at winnowing. Bast assured her that the previous night had been an exception, but he’d pierced through the magical barrier around Clifftown and still carried enough stamina to make their night beyond memorable. Even after their furious lovemaking, he’d winnowed them to the precinct this morning. Granted, he looked awfully tired, but it was definitely progress.
The moment they appeared in the precinct, jumping out of Bast’s void, the entire floor gaped at them. Having a Sidhe pop out of thin air wasn’t exactly normal in the human borough, yet her peers’ surprise lasted only a moment before they shrugged it off and went about their business.
“I’ll be right back, kitten.” Bast motioned to Ruth’s office. “I have to update your captain on my case.”
He’d told Mera about it that morning, after they’d showered together.
Mental note: Always shower with Bast.
As they dressed, he’d revealed that Poseidon might be Azinor the Snake, who somehow, was alive after some two thousand years. He’d raised himself, but couldn’t raise others on his own—a strange coincidence given her situation with Green. And if there were two things Mera didn’t believe in, it was coincidences and the Easter Bunny.
In any case, it seemed Poseidon had broken free of a supposed magical prison in the trenches. One that Bast’s forefather had created especially for the bastard.
All of it based off a strange book and with no concrete evidence whatsoever.
“I know Ruth. She’ll be pissed,” Mera warned, her tone a whisper so that her colleagues couldn’t listen. “You don’t have any proof.”
“I have Madam Zukova’s visions.”
“She mentioned a ‘he who could not die’. Also, a psychic’s word isn’t exactly evidence. Not to mention that a series of silly stories led you to Azinor.” Mera motioned with her hands like she was throwing dust in the wind. “We should talk to Ruth after we make a plan to lure him out.”
“You mean I, not we. You’re not on this case, remember?” Bast grinned mischievously. “Besides, I didn’t have time to plan anything last night.”
She blushed as flashbacks flooded her mind. The pleasure on Bast’s face, how his eyes rolled back in ecstasy, his loving grip and his addictive smell. How he held her close as she came undone in her bedroom, again and again.
Suddenly feeling awfully warm, Mera cleared her throat. “That may be, but if you and Ruth decide to set a trap for Posei—Azinor—I’ll need to be there.”
“No.”
“Bast,” she warned. “He could have something to do with Green.�
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“He could, or he couldn’t. Until we find out, don’t miss me too much.” He winked at her before heading to Ruth’s office.
Unnerving, stubborn fae!
“Mer,” Jules called out from his desk at the front.
Oh. Crap.
Trying to ignore the prickly sensation in her core, she went to him. “Hey, Jules. What’s up?”
He leaned back in his chair, avoiding eye contact. “You and Detective Dhay seem cozy.”
An invisible python squeezed her lungs. Was he simply being an ass, or had he caught onto the ridiculous amount of pheromones wafting from her body?
It didn’t matter. No one could find out the truth about her and Bast, or they would be reassigned. No one, especially not Julian.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
For the first time since she’d arrived, she truly observed the precinct. Her colleagues rushed in and out of the space, making calls and packing bags.
Something big was about to happen.
“What’s going on?”
He ignored her question. “You two arrived in the precinct together.”
“He’s my partner.” She shrugged, as if that explained it, though she knew it didn’t.
At all.
“Right now, he isn’t. I am.” Julian finally raised his head, staring at her dead in the eye. “While you were canoodling with him, a lot of things happened, as you can see. For starters, Dr. Stone found a way to screen the infected. The governor will be addressing the people soon.” He motioned at the chaos around them. “Everyone is supposed to be on the streets. They’re joining a task force to help test the population for any signs of infection.”
This sounded too good to be true.
“Seriously?”
He nodded. “The Cap is coordinating the force, along with the commissioner, the governor, and Councilor Adams. Dr. Stone also created a vaccine to rid the host’s body of Green’s essence. For good. And it looks like it might be working.”
Mera’s jaw dropped open.
‘Sex with Bast brings good luck!’
“That’s amazing, Jules!” Clapping her hands, a giddy excitement took over her. “Let’s go help them!”
“We can’t. We still have to take care of Green.” A smile hooked the left side of his cheek. “Speaking of which, Emma called. We got a hit on Rob.”
Chapter 19
“What do you have for me, Detective Dhay?” The captain asked without taking her attention from the papers scattered on her desk. “I’m organizing the biggest task force this city has ever seen, so be quick.”
Impossible, but he could try.
“I’ve linked Poseidon to Azinor, one of King Wavestorm’s advisors during the Great War.”
She stared at him, a frown creasing her wrinkled forehead. “Impossible. Anyone alive during the Great War has been long dead.”
“Immortality depends on the eye of the beholder, Captain.”
“That may be, but the fact remains: no known potions or spells can lengthen a creature’s lifespan to that extent. Even those who live longer—your people and vamps—average eight hundred, maybe fifteen hundred, if they’re lucky. And that’s a big if.”
“Still, here we are.”
With a chortle, she leaned back in her leather chair. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Unfortunately, yes. My seer connected the Crown of Land and Sea to a ‘he who could not die’. After thorough research on that phrase, I found references tying the term to Azinor.”
“That’s it?” The captain blew air through her lips. “The connection is feeble. I need more.”
“I don’t have that. Yet.”
Her light gray irises pierced through Bast’s soul. “Fine, I’ll play along. Let’s say you’re on to something. Weren’t all advisors to the king beheaded along with him?”
“They were, but Azinor can’t die. I have reason to believe he was not only a siren, but a warlock who tattooed forbidden runes on his body. They granted him eternal life and, perhaps, a vast array of powers we can’t yet fathom.”
The captain stared at him as if he’d gone mad. “Detective, I apologize beforehand, but I have to ask. Your family has a record of mental instability. I believe it’s due to what you call nightblood. Is there a possibility—”
“I’m not crazy.”
He couldn’t blame her for wondering. What he said sounded utterly insane, but Bast could always sense when he was about to lose it. When common sense left him.
This was not one of those times. He’d lost the battle to nightblood often enough to know the difference.
The captain raised her hands in surrender. “I just wish you had a tiny shred of evidence to back your claims.”
“That would be preferable,” he agreed. “But a lack of solid proof doesn’t mean the lead isn’t real.”
“Sounds far-fetched. Where did this ‘immortal advisor’ spend the last two thousand years, then?”
“It seems one of my ancestors trapped him in a magical prison in the deepest part of the ocean, without anyone in Atlantea knowing. I suppose that, after the first thousand years, Azinor lost his mind and began calling himself Poseidon.”
“The deepest part of the ocean?” The captain gawked. “You’re telling me Azinor was trapped in the trenches?”
He nodded, watching fear settle in her expression, as it usually did when madness started to make sense.
“So, Poseidon—Azinor—is ‘he who cannot die.’ And Mera is after a necromancer.” Her thin lips settled into a grim line. “Death connects both cases. You think Azinor might be working with Green?”
Bast certainly hoped not.
“I can’t say at this time. I need more leads and evidence.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “More of everything.”
“And how do you intend to get that?”
“I’m confident Azinor wants revenge, probably against the Night Court, so I want to set up a trap. Bait him into coming to Lunor Insul.”
“I might have a better idea. You mentioned a magical enhancer would have been helpful the last time you were here.” She tapped her fingers on the wooden table. “Do you still need one?”
Bast stared at her in disbelief. “Captain, you actually found an enhancer? How?” Such objects, along with forbidden runes, were illegal and incredibly hard to find.
“No questions, Detective. I can’t perjure myself.” She opened a drawer in her mahogany desk, and pulled out a dark-silver pin shaped like a hexagon, with a red ruby encrusted in its middle.
Mera’s amma could certainly be resourceful.
The moment Bast took the hexagon, it thrummed against his palm, its magic aligning with his own. “Marvelous,” he muttered as the power charged through his body.
“Will this truly help you track Azinor?”
He pondered for a while. The possibility had always been a stretch, but he didn’t have another choice. “Theoretically, yes. I only need to align it with the Crown of Land and Sea.”
“Really? I didn’t know you had psychic powers.”
“I don’t. A seer can catch impressions of those who have touched an object, but they can’t use those impressions to find them. With this enhancer, however, I could boost my magic enough to sniff out his trail.”
“Like a tracking dog?”
Grinning, he pointed at her. “Precisely.”
“Good. And how do you intend on neutralizing him?”
Neutralize. A nicer word for “kill.”
“Nothing about that in the books. If the Night King imprisoned Azinor in the past, then killing him wasn’t a viable option.”
The woman leaned back in her chair, letting out a frustrated sigh. “You better find a way. Fast.”
“I always do. Chopping off his head and keeping it away from his body might just do the trick. For the time being, that is.” He put the magical enhancer in his pocket. “If that’s all, Captain?”
She nodded.
&
nbsp; Bast turned to leave, but when he touched the handle, she ordered him to stop.
“Detective, Mera is the most precious thing to me in this entire damned world. Don’t fuck with her, and I mean that literally. Are we clear?”
Bast swallowed. For the first time in a long while, he actually feared for his life.
“Clear as air, Captain.” Stepping out, he closed the door behind him, and exhaled in relief.
If anyone found out about his entanglement with Mera, they would be separated. Yet somehow, he sensed Ruth Maurea already knew. He often wondered if the woman was truly human, or if she had a bit of witch in her blood.
Evidence was a wonderful thing, though. Without it, Mera’s amma couldn’t separate them.
He scanned the precinct, but the moment he found his hart, a burning rage took over him. There she was, about to take the lift with the sarking human.
Julian. Fucking. Smith.
Bast had sealed his bond with Mera by making love to her. It had to mean something. It had to mean she was his hart… or had it been simply fucking?
Darkness curtailed his vision, whispering that yes, it’d been simply good, old fashioned banging, as humans called it. Nothing more. It assured him their bond was an illusion, and Mera would never be his.
No, he couldn’t listen to himself, couldn’t trust…
Bast shook his head, trying to untangle from the sticky, pitch-black tentacles wrapping around his brain.
Danu in the prairies. Could his bond with Mera truly be one-sided?
It wasn’t unheard of. There had been tales of unrequited love between harts, where upon one’s denial, the other half had to move on, knowing they would always be incomplete. Some of them died of a broken heart. Some led a miserable existence. Few eventually found happiness.
The fuck that would happen to Bast.
His fear of losing Mera mixed with the adrenaline of wanting to punch the shig’s face, but he was in a precinct and he had to behave. Approaching the lift, he nodded a cold hello to Julian.
“Detective Dhay,” the malachai countered politely.
