When he moved his body closer, I could feel the heat of him at my back. He trailed his fingers along the underside of my wings where they were especially soft. He nuzzled his mouth close to my ear. “I want to touch you.”
Needing to hold onto something, I gripped the banister with both hands. I couldn’t breathe. I shouldn’t be behaving this way with him of all men. I felt as if I were stepping into enemy territory, venturing into places I wasn’t meant to go. And yet, he turned me on beyond reason.
“May I?” he asked.
“Yes,” I whispered, unable to resist him.
He swept my hair over one shoulder then proceeded to kiss his way up one side of my neck. One hand spanned my waist. He glided the other hand over the curve of my shoulder and down my arm, then laced his fingers through mine atop the banister. Yearning for his lips on my skin, I dropped my head back so he could have better access. He took full advantage, brushing feather-light kisses down the column of my throat.
“You know, there are many who would object to this kind of behavior.” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to that tender spot between my neck and shoulder.
“What, what kind of behavior? There are others doing the same in their own corner of the rooftop.”
“No, couples like us.”
“You mean a Morgon and a human?” I asked, trying not to sound as breathless as I was.
“Yes.” He nipped up my neck with teeth. The sensation flushed me with heat.
“Do you care if people object?”
He stopped and turned me around by the waist.
“Does it bother you?” I repeated.
His voice dropped lower with an edge of strain. “I don’t know.” His fingers banded tighter at my waist. “But not enough for me to stop.”
Before I could form another thought, his lips were hard and determined on mine. The world be damned, for there could be no misunderstanding what he wanted now.
I clutched his dark hair with one hand and smoothed the other underneath his jacket. We clung to each other, our bodies flush, our tongues tasting. His arousal was evident, pressing against my pelvis. I wished the world would disappear, and there would be no one but us.
I moaned softly when he pulled apart and pressed his forehead to mine, both of us panting.
“I didn’t expect that to happen,” I said, breathing hard.
“Some of the best things in life are unexpected.”
“True. But I never kiss men I hardly know.”
“That’s good to hear.” He pressed a soft kiss to my mouth. “But you do know me, Shakara.”
“No, I don’t. That’s the problem.”
He cupped my jaw, his thumb brushing my cheek, demanding my full attention. “We are the same, you and I.”
“Are we?”
“Solitary souls. Devoted to our work. Living amongst our own kind, but also apart.” His thumb brushed down to my lips. “Alone.”
I sucked in a breath. How could he possibly know?
All my life, I’d felt as if I were not quite connected to others. I preferred to be independent, to learn the healing arts apart from my own kind. My aunt gave me instruction separately from other novice healers since she knew I preferred my privacy. I rarely had friends. Jessen was one of few. And even her, I kept at a distance. “Alone,” I repeated, as his mouth opened over mine again.
I whimpered when he worked his mouth slowly, tasting me gently. My chest tightened as I clung to him, an unknown sensation winding my mind, body, and spirit into a coil. Fear trembled through me, and I had no idea why. Why should I be afraid of a kiss?
I pulled away and pressed both hands to his chest. “Don’t you think we might be going a little too fast?”
“Maybe. But I don’t care.”
“What would your family think of us, Demetrius? Your father?”
He grew still and watchful with those dark eyes and finally said, “He wouldn’t like it. And what of your family? What would they say?”
“I don’t know. We should be cautious of this—whatever it is.”
He tilted my chin up. “I’ve been careful and cautious all my life, Shakara. But when I think of you, there’s only one word that flips over and over in my mind.”
“And what word is that?”
He leaned forward and pressed his mouth against my ear, his lips grazing the top shell, sending a shiver down my spine. “Yes.”
Chapter 7
“Again.” Crouching in a defensive stance, I waited for Moira to attack.
She circled then punched at my jaw. I dodged, but she thrust out again with a longer reach. I snatched her wrist, twisted my body to the side, and let her fall with her own momentum onto the training mat.
“Damn it, Demetrius!” She slapped the mat. “Okay. Show that one to me slowly.”
I helped her up. “You have to watch the angle of your body. As soon as your attacker lunges, use their own momentum to knock them off balance. It’s all physics, Moira.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is.”
“Jeez. What’s got you in such a good mood?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve smiled at least three times and laughed twice since I walked into the gym. Who are you and what have you done with my ornery brother?”
I’d been teaching Moira body boxing since she was fifteen. Now at nearly twenty, she met me on a weekly basis. She was probably the closest friend I had, which wasn’t saying much for me. But one thing was for certain. She knew me well and sensed the obvious change in my mood.
“Am I really such a grouch?” I asked, grabbing my water bottle.
“Yes, you are,” she said, reaching for her own water.
I sat down on the bench and opened my gym bag. “I think we’re done for the day.”
“Oh, no you don’t. You’re hiding something.”
Unable to keep from smiling, I stripped off my sweaty T-shirt and pulled on a fresh one.
“Fourth smile. Okay, that’s enough. What gives? The only thing I can think of that would put that dopey look on a man is a woman.”
“Don’t you have an article to write or something?”
“Yep. It’s a woman. Who is she?”
I blew out a heavy sigh. “None of your business.”
“Sweet. That means she’s off-limits in some way.” She downed three more gulps from her water bottle, then her eyebrows shot up. “She’s a temp or something at the office and the boss can’t fraternize with the employees, right?”
“No.” I ran a towel over my face and sweat-drenched hair.
“I know. She’s newly divorced and her ex-husband is a cop, and you don’t want to piss him off because you’d have the whole Gladium Precinct breathing down your neck.”
“Where the hell do you get this stuff?”
She pulled on a hoodie and zipped it up over her workout tank. “I’m an investigative reporter. It’s my job to think of all possibilities.”
“Well, reporter, you’re wrong.”
She sucked in a deep breath that made me flinch and scan the room as if something had scared her, but there was nothing to alarm her. Then I caught the awfully big grin on her face.
“I know what it is. She’s a Morgon.”
My stomach rolled. And I’m sure my face grew pale while she jumped up and down in a giddy dance.
“Moira—”
“Don’t even try to tell me she isn’t. I can see it on your face. Who is she? What clan? Is she a Nightwing, too? Did you meet her at—”
“Calm down.”
“Tell me who your new girlfriend is, Demetrius!” she yelled with her face toward the door as if trying to announce it to the world.
“Fine. But shut up, will you?” I blew out a breath. “It’s Shakara Icewing.”
“Shakara?” she asked, her face falling into childlike adoration. “I love Shakara. She’s so sweet and nice and pretty, and how the hell did you convince her to date you?”
I hefted m
y bag onto my shoulder. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing,” she said with a laugh. “You’re just so, I don’t know.”
“Ornery?”
“Yes. But I still find you adorable. And apparently, Shakara does, too.”
I shook my head. “You’re crazy. You jump to all sorts of conclusions without knowing any details.”
“I’m a reporter. It’s my job to fill in the holes.” She glanced at her watch. “Oh, shit! I’ve got a deadline. I’ve got to get to The Herald.”
“Good. Off with you.”
Then she did something utterly out of the norm. She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tight. “Demetrius, I know you’re stressing about this. But if she’s right for you, don’t let Father…well, you know.”
“I know,” I said, giving her a one-arm squeeze. “Now get back to campus and finish your article.”
“I’m off.” She skipped out of the second-floor gym in my parent’s house and was gone.
Father had let me convert this room into a workout gym when I was a teenager. And while growing up here had never been easy with the pressure of a father like Pritchard Cade, this place always brought me solace and focus. Today, after sparring with my sister, I realized how happy I’d been since I’d met Shakara.
Ever since the Children’s Hospital fundraiser, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I’d daydream all day, getting little to no work done. I’d go to bed, remembering how soft and magnificent she felt against me. I’d fall asleep with her sweet moans filling my mind. And hell if I didn’t dream all night about her and then wake up with a hard-on and more than a little uncomfortable the next morning.
I’d never dated a woman. Ever. I’d had more than my share of one-night stands, but dating was never on my radar. Women were complicated and needy. And I never had the time to give. Or the inclination to sacrifice some of my own. I preferred to be on my own.
Until Shakara.
I ambled out of the gym and down the spiral staircase. Upon the last step, I heard the clink of glass on glass in the front parlor, the tell-tale sign of my father pouring himself an afternoon cocktail.
After our interlude on the rooftop of Spire Maiden, I’d had lunch with Shakara twice. We spoke of worldly and mundane events, everything and nothing, never speaking of our intimate moment overlooking Gladium. Though the silences said enough of our mutual desires when we both stole glances at one another. Today marked one full week since Julian’s birthday party. One week, that was all, and yet I felt like I’d known her all my life.
I should tell my father and get it over with. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to keep her to myself a while longer. But to make her a real part of my life, I had to tell those closest to me. And while my father wasn’t the doting sort to say the least, he was a huge part of my life and still influenced me daily when it came to business. In that world, he was the smartest man I knew. In personal dealings, he was severely handicapped. And while I knew he missed Jessen, he had no idea how to come to terms with his deep-seated hatred for the Morgons and bring her back into the family.
With a deep breath, I stepped into the front parlor where my father was gazing out the window at the summer garden. My mother was tending the pink roses she doted on. The sun had dipped low, casting long shadows across the hedges and lawn.
“Father?”
He swiveled, tumbler of Brevette in hand. “Demetrius. Come in. I’ve been waiting for you.”
I knew that voice. Anger and disappointment rolled in his timbre. I dropped my gym bag and sidled up next to him near the window. Mother said something to the gardener, then she started pulling up weeds around her large potted plants.
He knocked the rest of his drink down, then set his glass on the bar. “I’ve been told you had quite a few words to say at the last Chamber of Commerce meeting.”
Clenching my jaw and bracing myself, I replied, “I did.”
His face reddened, while his voice dropped lower. “You took a definitive stance on behalf of Cade Enterprises on an issue that required my input.”
“And what is your stance on the issue of Volt guns, Father?”
“We have no personal interest in the product, you know that, but our colleagues have investments—”
“Yes!” I snapped. “We do have a personal interest in the product. My sister, your daughter, was nearly killed by a Volt gun. Is that not personal enough?”
“I’m talking about business.”
“And I’m talking about family. About what really matters,” I scoffed. “I can’t believe you’d actually defend those bastards, the Graysons. They abandoned you when the wedding was called off between Aron and Jessen. You swore you’d despise them forever, and here you are defending them.”
His eyes narrowed, then he stormed over to his desk. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on here, son?”
“What are you talking about?”
He picked up the paper and threw it at my feet. I glanced down to see the front society page, and my heart sank. Beneath the headline, Prince of Gladium Woos Morgon Girl from the West End of Town, were photographs of Shakara and I at the bistro, at the coffee shop where we’d had lunch yesterday, and kissing on the rooftop of Spire Maiden.
So much for breaking this to my father gently.
“Son,” he said more softly than before, “you cannot openly have a fling with a Morgon woman.”
“It isn’t a fling, Father. I care for Shakara.”
Yes, even after this short period of time, I cared for her. Truly and deeply. And there was no ignoring the fact.
“No, you don’t. Hear me now. I know what it is to be bewitched by a Morgon woman. You can’t trust them.”
“You do? And how would you know that?”
He walked back to the bar, poured himself another drink, and took a swig. He turned away from the window where my mother busied herself in the garden and sat in his wingback chair next to the fireplace where a small fire hissed and popped in the grate. I took the seat opposite him. This wasn’t the reaction I expected. I was sure I’d receive an earful of nasty epithets, then I’d leave in a rage. But he seemed to be reminiscing about something from his past.
“No one knows what I’m about to tell you. And you are forbidden from telling a soul.”
He waited for me to assent. I nodded.
“I dated a Morgon woman once. No. More than that.” He paused, his eyes glazing over as he stared into the flames and remembered. “I loved her. And she loved me. But there came a time for her to make a choice, and she chose someone else. Another Morgon man. It was inevitable. I was young and foolish, but I learned quickly that Morgons are loyal only to Morgons.”
I could hardly believe what he was telling me. “Who was she?”
He seemed to be lost again in his memories. I thought he wouldn’t respond, never expecting his answer when he finally did.
“Lucius Nightwing’s mother.”
Stunned still, the curtains drew back on my childhood, showing me the truth that I never could see—why my father harped on about the Morgons, specifically the Nightwings, being backhanded and untrustworthy in the business world and why his hatred for this respected family seemed unending. His tirades about the Morgons always circled back to the Nightwings. And now I knew the reason. Bitterness and a broken heart had guided my father too long. But it wouldn’t guide me.
“I am sorry for your past, Father. Truly, I am. But I won’t throw away my own chance for a future because of it.”
“Listen to me, son. Whatever you think you might feel for this woman, it will come to no good. Morgons are meant for their own kind. It is in their nature. In the end, she will break your heart. And if she doesn’t, the world will shun you and reject the union you have formed. I tell you this to save you from the misery.”
“Jessen and Lucius are happy. And their son, Julian. He is happy. They are not shunned from society.”
“The Nightwings are a powerful family, and th
ey have always done whatever they’ve wanted,” he said with obvious resentment. He stood suddenly and walked back to the bar. “Just heed my warning, son. You can like this woman all you want. And date her a short while, if you must. But you can’t trust her,” he barked with finality.
“Leave it alone,” I commanded. “And what of the hearing and the Cade stance on the Volt Gun ban? I must proceed as my conscience allows. If you are against this, then we will have to sever ties on the issue.”
That would mean selling my stock in the company and giving up my life’s work in what I’d built in Cade Technologies. I didn’t say this to threaten my father with ruin, for if I did leave the company, Cade Tech would certainly crumble. I was the only one who knew the machinations of the entire company from top to bottom and only because I worked tirelessly to stay abreast of modern inventions and trade. I said this for it was the truth, and I needed to know where I stood if I went against his wishes with the upcoming hearing.
Appearing tired and somewhat sad, he sighed heavily and leveled his gaze at me. “Do as you must. You know I can’t do without you. Nor do I want to. But you must stop thinking with your heart, son. Or you’ll lose it.”
I walked for the door and hiked my bag over my shoulder. “Good afternoon, Father.”
He didn’t answer me. He took up his vigil at the window again as the sun slipped away, painting the landscape in darker shades of violet and leaving me feeling heavy, sad, and wondering if he was right.
Chapter 8
“Good God, Demetrius. If you scowl at your glass any more, you’ll break the fucker.” Max waved the bartender over. “What the fuck is bothering you?”
I knocked the glass of Brevette back, thankful for the burn, wishing it would numb my senses. “Nothing.”
The bartender poured us both another then went back to drying glasses.
“You’re a shitty liar. What is it? The tyrant?”
I scoffed. “Not my father this time. Not really.”
“A woman then.”
I finally pulled my gaze from the bar to my friend who knew me better than anyone. Even Moira who professed to be an expert in all things Demetrius. Max and I had met years ago at the university in a political science class. We shared a mutual loathing for the professor, and though we came from different walks of life, we formed a friendship that stuck, united against the arrogant son of a bitch who tried to fail us for disagreeing with his flawed theories.
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