He threaded one hand into my hair, clenched it into a fist, and kissed me with fierce possession. I welcomed it, gliding my tongue along his with a soft moan. Then he pulled away, hovering close, lips caressing, as he hammered inside of me slow and hard.
“What are you doing to me?” he asked on a guttural groan. Then he shuddered his release.
The strong pulse of him spilling inside me sent me over the edge, too. Needing him close, I rocked up and clenched tight. The pinprick of the heartstring made me ache with desire even as I climaxed.
“Shhh.” He kissed the tear that had slipped down my cheek. “What’s this?” he whispered, gliding his lips down till he found mine and brushed lightly. “No tears.”
“But I want you,” I confessed, my emotions running high. “All the time. Even now. Even after we just—”
“I know.” He panted as he continued to kiss me down. “I feel it, too. The ache. Makes me desperate.”
“Do you?”
He smiled—dimples and all lighting his face. “Yes.” He kissed up my cheek to my temple. “Deeply.” Then he swept a line across my forehead. “Painfully.”
“Painfully?”
“Mmm.”
“Me, too,” I admitted, though I couldn’t tell him what Aunt Asheera had said. Not yet. “So what do we do now?”
“That’s simple.” He brushed my hair away from my face and gazed down intently, both of us still breathing hard. “We obey our hearts. And tell the world to go to hell.”
I giggled. “You call that simple?”
“Very.”
“And are you willing to tell the world to go to hell, Demetrius?” I swept my fingers through his wet locks curling around his face.
“Yes,” he answered readily. “I am.” He cupped my cheek, stroking his thumb along my jaw to my chin. “Are you, Shakara?”
My heart leapt at the truth of this perfect moment. “Yes.”
He stood and helped me into a sitting position then pulled up his pants and snapped them. Chuckling, he pointed at my shoulder. I peered over to find something stuck to my skin.
“Paperclip,” I said with a giggle, flicking it off before I hopped off the desk and picked up my jeans.
“Hazards of sex in the workplace,” he teased. Then he sobered. “I’m sorry for this. I’d wanted our first time to be more…or less…”
“Don’t,” I said, pulling him close and stopping his mouth with a kiss. “No regrets. It was perfect.”
I smiled. He had said our first time. He’d thought of us together, for longer than one coupling. And my heart warmed. I pulled on my panties and jeans. “I can’t believe we did that on Carra’s desk.”
“Let’s not tell her.”
“Um, no,” I said with a laugh as I rehooked my bra.
A sudden crash and shattering of glass. I screamed. Demetrius lunged in front of me, pulling me to his chest with his back to the door. Tires squealed. He jerked his comm out of his pants pocket and sped to the door. He unlatched the lock and ran out to the street, all in a few seconds.
I glanced around for the object that had made the noise. I finally found it on the floor a few feet away. Hearing voices outside, I hurriedly pulled on my blouse and turned on the light. Then Demetrius returned, shirtless and drenched again as the rain still poured outside and now leaked through the broken pane.
“Who were you talking to?”
“The bodyguard Lucius had following you.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t seen anyone. But of course I wouldn’t. All of Lucius’s men were highly trained for covert operations.
“Did you see who it was?” I asked.
“No. It’s too dark, and they fled quickly.”
We both zeroed in on the object they’d thrown through the window. Demetrius leaned over and picked it up. A brick with a message chalked in black on the bottom.
“What does it say?” I asked.
He clenched the brick and read, “Beasts with wings don’t belong. Keep Our Race Clean.”
If I thought it was storming earlier, it was nothing compared to the black cloud covering Demetrius’s countenance now. The man had a glower to rival Lorian Nightwing. And that was saying something.
“KORC?”
“Yes.”
KORC was a sad little organization. It was started by some blue bloods at Gladium University needing to protest something and feel relevant in the world. They had few followers and were never known for being violent, only idiotic.
He leaned over and pulled on his shirt, though there were no buttons still intact. “Do you have a garbage bag?”
“Um. Yes.” I quickly found one in the kitchenette and returned with it.
He’d found some medical tape in a drawer and used it to tape up the window so the rain wouldn’t soak the floor. “Let’s go.”
I shouldered my bag. He pulled me close as we headed outside where the rain had slowed to a sprinkle and guided me toward his large, black SUV parked out front.
“I can fly from here,” I said.
He pulled to a stop. “I know. But please, would you allow me to take you home and make sure no one is waiting there?”
I glanced at his vehicle. It did seem to have enough room for my wings, but I’d never ridden in a land vehicle. “Okay. Sure.”
The tension eased from his face. He tucked me in on the passenger side, and my wings did fit fine when I pulled them tight against my back. His vehicle was large and roomy. However, no Morgon male would fit. Demetrius threw the brick in the backseat.
He punched a message into his wrist comm before pulling away from the curb.
“Who are you texting?”
“Lucius.”
We didn’t speak the rest of the way home. The joy we’d shared earlier had vanished, but the intimacy was even more palpable, stronger.
He escorted me up the elevator, into my apartment, and then took a moment to walk through every room. There had been no signs of a break-in. Then he returned to the door and pulled me into his arms.
“Shakara,” he whispered against my temple. “Keep your comm at your bedside. I don’t think they’re stupid enough to try anything at your home. But please call me if anything strange at all happens. Or if you just need to talk. Anything.”
“Wait. You’re leaving?” Sudden panic gripped her and twisted her stomach in a knot.
“Not for long. I’ll be back.”
“But Demetrius—”
His wrist comm buzzed. He read the message, then cupped her face gently. “Lucius has three more Nightwing Security officers already in place here to watch your building from all sides. No one will get in.”
“Okay.” I should’ve known that was what the messaging in the car was about.
“You’ll be safe,” he assured me, his thumb stroking my cheekbone.
“I know. It’s just that—I wanted you to stay.”
He gave me a tight-lipped smile and kissed me, tilting my head to slide a bit deeper before finally pulling away.
“I’ll be back. But I have to take care of something first.”
The storm that washed over his face gave me a glimpse of the darkness he always seemed to hold in check.
He stepped out into the hall. “Now close the door and bolt it.”
I laughed at his stern expression, but I did as he said. I heard his footsteps move to the elevator only after I bolted the door.
KORC was a small-minded group of ridiculous activists. Tossing a brick here and there and picketing places where Morgons and humans shared each other’s company was about as far as they’d ever gone. They were annoying but harmless. And if Lucius had sent more security, then I would certainly be safe.
Still, I double-checked my locks before I finally laid down in my bed, my comm close on the side table. With my reading lamp on, I opened the thriller novel I’d been reading. And though my eyes scanned the lines, I read not a word. The only comfort I could find was in his promise to return to me. And so I waited.
Chapter 10
I punched in Max’s number on my car comm while speeding away from the north side of the city toward the west.
“Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon,” said Max when he popped on-screen.
“I need you to run a tag number, and I need an address now.”
“Good evening to you, too.”
“Here’s the tag.” I sent him the photo I’d captured before the car had disappeared around the corner.
“Slow down. What do you need this for?”
“Max, two fuckers just drove by Shakara Icewing’s clinic and chucked a brick through her window that would’ve cracked her skull if she’d been standing in the way. I need that address.”
Max’s relaxed expression tightened. “All right. Give me a minute.”
I heard him typing on his keyboard as I drove past the human-only nightclub scene still going hard. On instinct, I ventured to the side of town where I suspected the pale-faced asshole who’d thrown that brick would live. Kraven Silverback, the Nightwing guard on duty following Shakara, had appeared by my side on the street the second I popped outside. He said he’d follow them. But I needed the address. Needed to get there faster before the rage thrumming through me set me on fire.
“Okay,” said Max. “The tag belongs to some dude with multiple priors. All violent, but nothing to send him to prison.”
“The specific address, Max.”
“Whoa, man. What are you planning to do?”
“What do you think?”
“With that look in your eyes, I’m afraid to guess.”
“Give me the address.”
“The hell I am. Meet me on the five hundred block of Glendale Strip.”
I clicked off the comm and took a left on the next street heading south toward the human-only section of low-income housing. After a few more turns, I made my way down the Strip, then slowed when I came upon the five hundred block.
This didn’t make sense. KORC was comprised of zealots and radicals, mostly pretentious college kids out at Gladium University trying to make their voices heard. Even if their message was bullshit. Rarely did their members come from the ranks of the poor. For one of its members to live here wasn’t just rare. It didn’t happen.
I pulled into a parking spot along the curb underneath a broken streetlight. Actually, there were several streetlights broken down the Strip. I couldn’t sit here long in my sleek, expensive vehicle without attracting attention. Scanning the line of parked cars, none of them were the dinged-up gray muscle car I’d seen tearing away from the clinic tonight.
I reached into the backseat, unzipped my duffle bag, and pulled out a T-shirt. After changing out of my buttonless, wet shirt—my thoughts straying briefly to the clinic and the desk and Shakara—I reached behind my seat again and found the brick. I reread the part of the message on the backside of the brick that I hadn’t shared with her.
Careful you don’t break your pretty white wings.
A fresh surge of fury rushed through me just as Max’s car wheeled past. He slowed and backed into a spot across the street, hopped out, and strode toward me. I clicked the unlock button as he reached the passenger side. He shouldered in out of the sprinkling rain and closed the door.
“Nice night for a stroll down Glendale Strip.”
I handed him the brick and continued scanning the street while he examined it. “So who is this prick?” I asked.
“The owner of the car is Gus Simmons, mid-twenties, high school dropout, multiple arrests for various degrees of assault and possession of low-grade drugs. Guilty of several petty crimes but he is not a member of KORC,” he finally said.
“I know. But they’re going to pin it on them anyway.”
“They?”
“There were two men in the car. The passenger threw the brick.”
“Of course,” said Max. “I probably don’t have to tell you this, but chances are that whoever they are, they probably have plans of something a bit more…injurious to blame on KORC down the road. Beyond this brick.”
“Why do you think I’m here?” I asked, knowing full well this asshole would most probably try to hurt Shakara, then frame KORC for the wrongdoing. The brick was step number one.
Max settled back, his wet leather jacket squeaking against the leather upholstery. “I’m surprised they attempted anything with the clinic open, knowing they might be spotted. That was sloppy.”
“The clinic wasn’t open,” I corrected.
“Right. But the lights were on. He knew someone was there and was taking an unnecessary risk of being seen if he wanted to frame KORC.”
I shifted my shoulders toward the window with my hand still on the steering wheel. “The lights weren’t on.”
I didn’t need to look to know Max was observing me.
“Interesting.” I could hear the snark in that one word.
“Keep your opinions to yourself.”
“I have no opinions.”
“That’s a lie.”
A car came up the street slowly. The headlights swung right as it turned into a side alley of an apartment building along the five hundred block.
“That’s them,” I said, watching two guys, one of them the scraggly dude who was in the passenger seat, come out of the alley and approach the apartment building.
Max and I eased out of my vehicle, waited till they disappeared inside, and then strolled toward the apartments. We had to veer around a bench, and I nearly tripped on a man’s legs sticking out from underneath. I sidestepped and glanced back, thankful to see the man pull his legs farther under the bench.
We continued up the shadowed walk, the slanting rain illumined by the one working streetlight.
“I’m assuming you have an apartment number,” I said as we approached the entrance.
“Twenty-nine.”
Dark clouds blotting out the moon and stars gave us good cover. By the time we reached the door, Kraven Silverback appeared out of the shadows.
“I followed to be sure we didn’t lose them,” he said. “If you’ve got this, I’ll report back to Shakara’s apartment building.”
“We’ve got this,” I assured him. “I’d much rather you be at Shakara’s place. Lucius has stationed more officers on duty tonight as well.”
With a swift nod, he melted back into the night. I heard the distinct flap of his great wings as he lifted off, then Max and I filed into the apartment building.
There was no elevator. Max pointed to the stairwell. We climbed to the second floor and stepped out into the hallway. It was empty. I led us down the dim corridor, only one bulb lit that blinked erratically as if it were on its last leg. We passed apartment twenty-three where a woman shouted at a man in a shrill voice. Something about the waitress where he worked. He grumbled a reply. The walls were paper-thin.
Moving on, there was little noise elsewhere. Silverware and plates clinked together from behind the apartment door of twenty-seven. Someone doing dishes perhaps.
The three of us stopped outside twenty-nine. No sound whatsoever coming from the other side. Max pulled his police-issue handgun. I motioned to go first. Max nodded. I reached for the doorknob, turned, and glanced at Max with a shake of the head. It was locked. With a huge swing of my torso, I busted open the door, the frame cracking as we rushed into the room.
“On the ground! On the ground!” shouted Max, gun aimed at the two men on the sofa snorting dust.
One of them, the driver, Gus Simmons, shot up his hands. The other, the scraggly, pale son of a bitch who’d thrown the brick darted toward the bathroom. I lunged and tackled him to the floor, then pinned him with one bony arm behind his back and my knee on his shoulder. He struggled. I clenched my fist in his nasty hair, hauled back, and slammed his face into the wood floor.
He screamed.
“Stop moving, mother fucker. I’d love to have a reason to crack your skull open and watch you bleed.”
“We weren’t doin’ nothin’,” yelled the other one, also on the floor on his stomach
while Max handcuffed him.
“Really, Gus?” asked Max.
Holding his arms from behind, Max hauled the guy to his feet and shoved him into chair against the wall. Max picked up the clear bag of pink poppy dust off the table. “Looks to me like you two were celebrating something.”
“Aw, that ain’t nothin’,” said Gus. “That’s just a little weeknight fun, ya know? Not even an ounce. Not worth haulin’ us in on that.”
I wasn’t a police officer, but I knew enough from Max that he was right. The time in paperwork wasn’t worth the few nights in jail for the amount in the baggie. Plus, I was guessing these guys had a wealthy patron who would get them out fast. But the dope was leverage.
“Yeah,” said the guy beneath me. “What you want with us? You ain’t no fuckin’ cop. This is all some bullshit.”
“You want to know what this is?” I said, leaning down, my blood pumping like mad through my veins.
“Tell me, pretty boy,” he ground out, his face still planted against the floor.
“You paid a visit to the clinic on Sable Street.”
The guy’s eyes widened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I lifted his head and slammed it back down again.
“Mother fucker!” he screamed.
“How about I go get the brick in my car and knock your fucking teeth out. You think you’ll remember then?”
He tried to spit at me, but only managed to dribble on his face and the floor. “Go ahead, pretty boy. You ain’t got it in ya. Who the fuck are you guys anyway?”
I rolled him over onto the arm I had bent backwards, put my knee in his chest, and wrapped my hand around his throat.
“You want to know who I am?” I squeezed his throat a fraction tighter. “I am Demetrius Cade. I own this fucking city. And if you don’t tell me who hired you to throw that brick, I’ll bury your body so deep no one will ever know you even existed.” His eyes bulged as I cut off all airflow. “And trust me. I will get away with it, and I’ll sleep well at night knowing you’re dead and gone.”
“Demetrius.” Max said my name as a warning. He knew I meant every fucking word I’d just said. “He can’t speak if you don’t loosen your grip.”
Dragon Heartstring Page 9
