by N. D. Jones
Why couldn’t he just accept what they had? Why couldn’t he leave well enough alone? Because it’s not enough. Because she shouldn’t have bound my cat to her fire spirit without also being willing to take my bite. All or nothing.
Assefa could sleep for a week, so sated and exhausted was he. But he had to know. He knew that he would never sleep if he didn’t.
“Does the thought of being the mate to a Mngwa unsettle you? Do you even want a were-cat…me as your mate?”
Sanura didn’t answer, didn’t so much as acknowledge his words.
Assefa peered down at her. She was sound asleep, her face buried against his chest, his heart beating a love tune for the damned.
He loved her. But she doesn’t love you back. No, she didn’t.
Assefa breathed in her gardenia scent and knew. When the case was over, he would have to let his fire witch go. Clearly, what he offered she couldn’t bring herself to accept, and what she was willing to give was less than what he was willing to settle for.
But the case wasn’t at its end just yet. He still had a few hours before the hunt would begin. A few hours to hold Sanura and pretend this was the first of many nights she would sleep in his arms instead of the only one he would ever have with her. That was a sobering, brutal thought that Assefa wished he was truly too cold of heart, too unemotional, to feel.
He closed his eyes, and cursed the Fates for leading him to Baltimore and the dead end that was Sanura Williams’ heart.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Let’s go over this one more time,” Mike suggested.
“Enough already.” Sanura plopped down on the lumpy, pinstriped couch in Assefa’s office. “I understand the plan perfectly. You’re just making everyone more nervous by repeating the same thing.”
“Well, if I felt like I had your and Assefa’s undivided attention, I wouldn’t have to repeat myself,” he huffed, looking from one to the other. “What in the hell is wrong with the two of you, anyway? You’ve been acting funny ever since we got to the station. I would’ve thought after the two of you…”
He paused, and then made an obscene sexual gesture with his fingers. At least that’s what Sanura thought he meant when Mike formed a circle with his thumb and index finger before inserting the index finger from his other hand into the hole—repeatedly, his pace increasing with each…thrust?
“Do you have an ounce of common decency in your dwarf body?” Assefa bristled. He stood, towering over the much-shorter Mike in unhidden irritation, the desk separating the two men a wholly inadequate speed bump. “This is neither the time nor the place, Mike, and I’m really not in the mood for our normal games.”
Assefa sat back down, no sign of the man-of-leisure persona he normally used to conceal the true depth of the man.
“We all know what’s expected of us. There’s no need to belabor the point. Thanks to Cynthia, Eric, and Gen, for the first time, I have a fresh adze scent. The odor was still strong on Gen’s shirt and jeans. Eric had the presence of mind to hold onto Gen’s clothing and have Cynthia magically preserve them. I brought the clothing back from the hospital with me and left them in the car until I was ready to head out to hunt. Earlier today, I tracked the adze to Druid Hill Park.”
Sanura now knew where Assefa had run off to so fast after they’d eaten a late breakfast. She’d thought it was her inability to give him an answer to his proposal that sent him out the door in such a rush. Now she knew differently, or, she thought solemnly, perhaps it was just a convenient excuse to get away from the woman who had rejected him. Twice.
Then there was the dream—correction—the nightmare. It had been years since Sanura suffered one. Why now? What in the hell is wrong with me? Assefa’s unlike any man I’ve ever met. He’s kind, protective, bright, and outrageously sexy. He’s amazing in bed. And wants me to move in with him and become his mate. And I’m having stupid nightmares again while running away from a man who wants to give me the world.
“Druid Hill Park has tunnels running under it that were built during enslavement in this country. It was used as a stop on the Underground Railroad for many years, especially after the enactment of the Fugitive Slave Act when slaveholders could retrieve their runaway slaves from any state in the Union. Unlike other Underground Railroad sites in your state, this one hasn’t been made into a historical landmark. It was simply boarded up and built over through the years.” Assefa stood again, walked around the desk, and sat on the edge of the battered, steel furniture.
“Sounds like a perfect hiding place to me, kid.”
“Which was why we couldn’t easily find the creature.”
“Since we know where it lives now, we can send Sanura home and go in ourselves.”
“I wish it were that easy, Mike.” Sanura knew he meant that. Assefa wanted nothing more than to keep her safe, and the best way to do that was to keep her as far from the bloodsucking predator as possible. But that wasn’t going to happen. “I don’t know about you, but going into its lair isn’t a risk I’m willing to take. Adzes may like to hunt alone, that doesn’t necessarily mean they live or hibernate alone. We don’t know if there’s more than the one adze hiding out in those tunnels.”
“Mike, I can lure him…or them out into the open where you and Assefa will have a greater chance of taking them on. And if it turns out to be only one, even better.” Sanura moved from one uncomfortable lump to an even more uncomfortable one. No wonder Assefa always sat in that nice leather chair of his. “Besides, those tunnels are probably small and cramped. Assefa’s cat will need much more room than that to be effective.”
Mike examined Assefa, squinting at the special agent as if that would help him divine the truth. “What type of cat are you, kid?”
“The type that doesn’t like to be caged with a predator in its home.” He shifted, turning more of his body in her direction. “Once the bastard is out of the tunnel, Sanura, I need you to put your moonstone back in, leave the park, and allow us to do our job.”
“But—”
“No, Sanura, I promised Makena you wouldn’t be there when we take it down. I won’t go back on a promise, not even for you, so don’t ask.”
She didn’t like it. But she was only to be the bait. She wasn’t, like Assefa had said yesterday, a trained officer. She was a college professor. A powerful witch, sure, but this was the field, not an advanced spellcasting class. She didn’t know or understand these rules of engagement. Bait, not brawn, that’s my role, why I’m here.
“Check to make sure the park has been closed and cordoned off.” His words were for the detective, but Assefa’s eyes never left Sanura.
“If you wanted me to leave, you could’ve just said so.”
“Then leave, Mike,” Sanura said pointedly.
“Settle whatever the hell is going on between the two of you before we head out. Talk, kiss, screw, I don’t care, but make it fast.”
Mike slammed the door when he left, but that wasn’t the only door Sanura knew had closed.
Assefa slid one long leg then the other from his desk, then moved to sit next to Sanura. Once settled, he took her hands in his. “I’m your familiar. It’s my responsibility to protect you from adzes. That is why Sekhmet made were-cats. It’s why a beast like me exists.”
His baritone voice was as smooth and sensual as any Barry White song. He could lull her to sleep with that voice, or make her wet with desire. But Sanura refused to let him face the monster on his own. It was as much her duty as his to capture the witch killer.
She placed a hand on his cheek. “And who protects you, Assefa?”
His blank face and chilly silence told her the answer. In that moment, he looked so lost, his seal-brown eyes betraying his normally self-assured nature. She hated that look, nearly as much as she despised his FBI mask. Worse, she’d put it there when she’d refused his bite, and again when her insecure mind silenced both her heart and lips when they would’ve gladly accepted his offer to move in with him.
The close
d door she’d sensed earlier loomed before her. Since waking and showering, Assefa had been pleasant, as usual, sweet-talking Makena into cooking for them. Which, in truth, Makena was pleased to do, enjoying Assefa’s clear appreciation for her Nigerian and Trinidadian cuisine, as well as simply having a full house of guests to dote on, the way she did when Sanura, Sam, and Cynthia all lived there. More importantly, Makena already considered Assefa a member of the family, whether Sanura became his mate or not.
He was just as charming upon his return, having taken the time to go home and change his clothes, another tailor-made suit, no less. Before leaving for the station, Makena had hugged Assefa, whispering words meant only for him. Then he had looked over Makena’s shoulder at Sanura but didn’t hold her gaze. Instead, he’d kissed Makena on the cheek and promised, “I won’t let harm come to her.”
“What about the other matter?” Makena had questioned, with a worried interest not present in her voice last night when she’d asked if Sanura intended to take Assefa as her mate.
Before Assefa could respond, Mike had interrupted them, opening the front door and exclaiming with gusto, “Let’s get the show on the road. I have a special spot on my wall for this bastard’s head.”
“I can take care of myself,” Assefa answered Sanura. “I’ve been doing it for years.”
There was that damn mask of his again. When it wasn’t the mask of stubborn stoicism, it was frosty detachment or even charming flirt. Somewhere, amidst the masks, resided the true Assefa Berber, a complex amalgam of a man.
“I’ll settle this case, once and for all. It’ll be done. I’ll protect you from the adze.”
“I know you will. I trust you.”
His smile was little more than a forced lifting of lips. “I know you do. You trust me with your body.”
Who knew a man’s smile could reveal an ocean of disappointment? The “but you don’t trust me with your heart,” the unspoken tide carrying Assefa away from her.
“What will you do once you catch the adze?”
“I’m not going to catch the adze, Sanura.” He said this with all the lethal intention of a predator ready for the hunt. “I’m going to execute the murdering bastard and send his worthless soul to Anubis.”
And, no, that wasn’t what Sanura had meant by her question. But, yes, Assefa was deadly serious.
“I mean afterwards, once the business with the adze is over. What then?”
Frosty eyes softened but revealed nothing of the inner man’s feelings.
“I’ll file a satisfactory but fraudulent report with the Chief of Police. The report will mollify his superiors and keep the true nature of my investigation a secret.” He stood. “Then I’ll go back to Virginia.”
Go back to Virginia. Right, Maryland is not his home. He had no reason to stay, nor a reason to return. She’d given him none.
“We need to get going.” He stalked away from her, stopping only when he reached the door and realized she still sat, dumbfounded by his nonchalant dismissal. She opened her mouth to speak, to let him know this wasn’t what she wanted, that she was afraid and a coward. But Assefa shook his head. “I don’t want to do this now, Sanura. I can’t do this now.”
No, neither could she. They both needed to have their heads in the game, focused on the adze instead of the crumbling mess their post-handfasting reality had become.
She joined Assefa at the door and, because she couldn’t help herself, reached up and kissed him. For a moment, for timeless seconds, he didn’t respond. The bitter tang of rejection coated his lips. Then the sweetness came and wrapped itself around her—yummy, sugary Assefa goodness.
Pressing her back against the door, he kissed her senseless, her moans muffled by his devouring mouth and relentless tongue. She could feel him, his desire, his heat, his anger. By the gods, she wanted him, but had no idea how to have a man like Assefa while still keeping some of herself for herself.
He ripped his mouth away. “No more games, Sanura. No. More. Either you want all of me or you don’t. Either you want to be my mate or you don’t.” He moved her from in front of the door then opened it. “But what you won’t do is kiss me like you want all of me while knowing you have no intention of following through with anything more substantive.”
Sanura’s mind went blank, her personal Titanic sinking before her eyes. She felt paralyzed, unable to do more than watch it fade into watery oblivion.
“Come along, Sanura. The sooner we finish this, the sooner you’ll be rid of me and my too-demanding, unemotional were-cat ways.”
Sarcasm had never cut so deep, felt so cold, been so well-deserved.
Then he simply walked out of the office and away from her, a soundless, sightless slamming of a door.
She stared after him, and Sanura refused to cry. Fire witches did not cry. No, we just conjure a blaze around our hearts and burn anyone who dares to enter. Death and destruction, that’s all I’m good for.
Three hours later, Sanura found herself at the south side of Druid Hill Park, stationed where the tunnels let out. The park had been secured to keep people out but the adze inside the containment area. If the adze was in the tunnels, there was now only one exit.
Parked several feet from the south gate in a nondescript black van with tinted windows, Assefa and Mike waited, a white Baltimore City Police license with its customary four-number tag and BC written in bold, black letters on the back. The city’s drug dealers would’ve preferred to see this van parked in their neighborhood because it was better than any paid lookout. It yelled cop. In fact, it screamed dumbass cop.
But this wasn’t a drug stakeout and the officers inside the van weren’t trying to bust a bunch of lowlife street hustlers out to make money off the misery of others. No, they were trying to catch a different kind of lowlife, one who would kill those so-called hardcore drug dealers if given the opportunity, no matter the taint of the drug dealers’ souls. Food was food when starvation was the alternative.
For the last hour, Sanura had walked the path the special agent had mapped out for her. “No sign of the adze,” Sanura informed him into her small microphone provided by the BCPD. She’d felt like a real undercover police officer when the female officer had secured her microphone and earpiece. Now, however, she felt like a worm on a hook waiting to be roasted alive. Yeah, a mixed metaphor, but it was better than thinking about being eaten alive, or rather, drained dry.
“I know. I can see you just fine. If you stay on the path, I’ll have an unobstructed view of you and the exit.”
“When will you shift?” Sanura realized she knew nothing about Assefa’s particular transformation. She recalled her father telling her a were-cat’s transformation could be painful or long if the male wasn’t properly trained, as a boy, by his father or another trusted male. She knew Assefa loved and respected his uncle and chief, but knew nothing of his father and their relationship. But it was reasonable to assume that Assefa’s father would’ve prepared his son well. His shift will be quick and painless. She kept telling herself that while walking the path for what felt like the hundredth time.
“I’ll shift in a few minutes, and then Mike will take over communication. Although I won’t be capable of speaking to you, I’ll be able to hear and understand everything that happens and is said. As in the astrophysical plane, you can speak to me in animal form the same way you would when I’m in human form.”
“That won’t be necessary. You’ll be able to speak to me telepathically once you shift. That’s one of the side effects of the blending of our auras.” Yet another way her fire spirit had bound his cat spirit to her, claiming without equally giving. Hell, Assefa had every right to be upset with Sanura for refusing his bite.
“I’m sure that’s what one of your books probably said, but telepathy between a cat and a witch, even a familiar, isn’t possible.”
“The witches in my family have always been able to communicate telepathically with their familiars when they were in cat form.”
�
��Only thing I’m saying, Sanura, is that—”
“Oh, for the love of Romeo and Juliet, perhaps the two of you should’ve had this little, but critical, discussion last night instead of—”
Sanura heard rustling on the other end of the line, and then a growl of warning. “Don’t go there, Mike.”
Twice in twenty-four hours, Sanura thought. Mike was risking his life with his constant waving of raw meat in front of an agitated Assefa. As it was, the special agent, against his better judgment, had agreed to her plan. A plan that could, if it went badly, end with her death. This couldn’t be good for Assefa’s self-control or for Mike’s life expectancy.
Seconds passed. Nothing but silence came from the van. Sanura wondered if it were possible for Assefa to kill Mike without making an incriminating sound. Probably, she concluded, though Sanura knew otherwise. As easily as Mike managed to slip under Assefa’s armor, the special agent had an iron will. Even when angry, he never lost his control. Gods, I wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone. Not even the adze.
“Go change, I’ll take care of Sanura while you’re gone. Make it quick, Casanova.”
Mike’s voice told her he was back in detective mode, all irritating humor sealed under the men’s common goals, keeping Sanura safe and killing the adze. Capture wasn’t an option. This thing couldn’t be contained or rehabilitated. From what Assefa had told her on the drive to the park, the Preternatural Division of the FBI didn’t do incarceration or medical intervention. By the time a case reached the desk of the division chief, in this case Assefa’s uncle, Ulan Berber, only one option was left, one directive given—execute.
Sanura strolled past the tunnel’s entrance again before deciding to settle on a bench a few feet away. She waited. The silence on the other end of the microphone contrasted to the wild beating of her heart.
“Go now, Assefa, I have this covered.”
Pause.
“Look, I know you’re her familiar, but she was my goddaughter first.”
