by Patti O'Shea
She’d shared her thoughts with McCabe, but he continued to show absolutely no concern for his safety. And the more laid-back he was, the more upset she became. When that happened, he’d try to placate her, and that pissed her off worse. Inevitably their rows led to sex, but that hadn’t resolved the issue of how cavalier Conor was about his well-being.
She huffed out a sharp breath and reluctantly pushed to her feet. No matter how much she didn’t want to do so, she had to finish this task for the Council. It was more than her promise to them, she reminded herself; she had to do this for her people.
Conor was honorable, but what of the next person capable of wielding the spell? If it wasn’t destroyed, could she rely on that individual being of equal caliber? Mika didn’t think so—McCabe’s integrity was stupendous. And with her family involved, she couldn’t risk it: That incantation was much too dangerous to exist.
Dragging the coffee table over to the shelving unit, she stood on it and resumed her search of the books. As the hours passed, she started singing show-tunes to keep herself entertained. Since her grandma Noguchi loved musicals and always had a soundtrack playing in her house, Mika had hundreds of songs memorized.
She’d worked her way through Into the Woods, Oliver! and Annie, and had just started belting out the title song from Guys and Dolls, when she stopped cold, almost dropping the volume she held. She forced herself to carefully slide it back on the shelf. It was no doubt a lost cause, since she’d quit singing mid-verse, but she tried for nonchalance as she stepped from the coffee table to the hardwood floor.
Immediately, Mika scanned for the threat. She didn’t see anything, but she felt it. Every instinct she had told her there was danger present despite McCabe’s protection, and those same instincts told her it was too late to run.
Too bad she didn’t know who or what had entered the house.
She shifted, moving into a better defensive position. Away from the coffee table, she’d have more space to maneuver. Unfortunately she was barefoot, which didn’t make her feel real secure, but at least her stretchy leggings and T-shirt gave her freedom to move. Still seeking the threat, Mika mentally scanned again. Something seemed off near the foyer, and she faced that spot.
“You’ve good detection skills,” said a voice as the air shimmered. “Pity they won’t save you.”
Conor’s source had been right—there was more than one Dark One around. The demon who appeared wasn’t as pretty as the first, though he was attractive enough if she overlooked the cruel set to his mouth. He was dressed completely in black, something she would have found amusing had things been different, and his pale amethyst eyes were cold, calculating. His dark hair was as long as his compatriot’s, and some coppery thread was woven through one of the tiny braids that pulled his dark tresses back into a ponytail.
Something about him made Mika wish she was facing the other guy. Both were evil, but this one seemed more so. He was leaning lazily against the arch between the entryway and the great room, but Mika sensed his alertness.
“How’d you get through the shield?” she asked.
Straightening, he said, “Did you honestly believe that something so feeble would stop me for long? I am Bak-Faru.”
He spoke with such arrogance, such superiority, that in other circumstances, Mika might have laughed. Might have, but she doubted it. Only an idiot laughed at a Dark One. Especially when the idiot was facing death.
Mika balanced her weight more evenly and prepared to fight. No doubt she was going to die shortly, but she wouldn’t make it easy. Not if she could help it.
“I know little of your kind. I have no way to know what will and won’t keep you at bay. Why are your people so secretive anyway?” As she spoke, she kept her voice calm and even—quite a feat, considering that her heart thundered in her chest.
The Dark One looked amused. “Do you think to stall long enough for your protector to return? We’ve watched, and it’s unlikely he’ll be back for several hours. And there’s little chance I’ll lose track of time. Or sight of my goal.”
“I know,” Mika admitted. “You’ll forgive me, I hope, if I ask one question. Why are you trying to stop me from finishing my mission? I am unable to fathom your purpose.”
She’d been careful with her words, speaking a bit more formally than usual and making sure she didn’t imply the Dark Ones were behaving irrationally, simply suggested that she was too ignorant to understand their choices. Despite her caution, however, the Dark One stared at her. Why had she bothered with politeness? It wasn’t as if proper deportment was going to make him change his mind about killing her. Surreptitiously, Mika wiped her damp palms off on her pants and tried to anticipate his attack. Speed might be her one chance at survival.
“We do not want the incantation destroyed. The keeper must use the key and lower the veil.”
“You’ll be enslaved just like all the other demons if the spell is used. Con—the keeper will be your lord and master.”
The Dark One arched an eyebrow and looked as if she were hopelessly slow. “Why would you believe that anyone could subjugate the Bak-Faru? We’re far more powerful than that.”
“You’re trapped in Orcus like the rest of us, aren’t you? How’d the almighty Bak-Faru get there if not by the original imprisonment spell?”
His eyes began to glow, and Mika gulped. Too late she remembered that dying a quick death was preferable to being tortured and murdered. Stories she’d heard, things she’d seen, raced through her mind, and as her knees began to buckle she locked them. No way was fear going to defeat her before the battle even started.
“For a Mahsei, you’re very brave. Or very foolish,” the Dark One said.
Mika smiled weakly. Foolish was probably closer to the mark. “We Mahsei tend to be impulsive.”
“True.” The Dark One rubbed his nails against his sleeve, buffing them, and Mika’s gut clenched. Time had just run out.
She dived to her left in time to avoid…something. It was invisible to her eyes, but she could sense it—and its dangerousness. Whatever it was, it was nothing Mika had witnessed before.
Everything she’d attempted the other night against the blond Dark One had failed, but she had no choice except to try. Maybe luck would be on her side. Instead of increasing the weight of the air molecules around her as a defense, she used her power as a weapon. Calling on everything she had, Mika built the air density around him, hoping to suffocate the dark demon.
Another unnamable attack made her leap into the air. She hit the ground again, rolled to her feet quickly. It was difficult to split her concentration between what she was trying to do with her power and his attacks.
Up till now, her foe hadn’t moved, but that changed. He walked toward her and Mika glanced around, trying to choose the best escape route—Conor’s house wasn’t very big and her options were extremely limited.
The dark demon raised his hand. Its angle made her break left, but it was a feint. She ran directly into a fireblast from his other hand.
Mika dropped to her knees, singed, agony rolling through her. She’d never felt anything like this before, not even the time she’d accidentally fallen into an electrified fence as a child. Her body spasmed, muscles twitching.
Get up. She had to get up or she was dead. Calling on every ounce of determination she possessed, she staggered to her feet. Her eyes started to roll back in her head and she fought harder.
When her vision cleared, she realized the dark demon wasn’t doing anything. He could have finished her off easily, but he hadn’t. More cat-and-mouse games, she realized. All she had to do was keep him amused long enough to come up with a brilliant escape. Her lips curved. Yeah, right.
She’d stopped her manipulation of the air when she’d been struck, but it hadn’t been working anyway. Mika spotted the geode on Conor’s desk, and using a combination of telekinesis and wind, she hurled it at the Dark One. It didn’t make it even half the distance before he held up a hand. The rock stopped and fell to the floor wi
th a sharp thud. That made the Dark One laugh.
When he sobered, he asked, “Is that the best you can manage?”
“Sorry.” Her voice was a croak.
“I’d hoped you’d learned something since your first encounter with a Bak-Faru.”
“I’d hoped so, too.” Mika took a step back and swayed unsteadily. Man, her head hurt.
Her foe’s lopsided smile made him look approachable. Friendly, even—but she knew it was a false impression. Okay, so dark demons were capable of being amused. Of course, they were amused by one-liners she tossed out while scrambling to avoid death, but hey, that proved at least that they weren’t entirely humorless bastards.
Concentrate, damn it!
Maybe if she combined her powers, she thought, narrowly avoiding another fireblast. Mika swirled the wind in front of her, thickening the mass as she increased its rotation. It made the demon’s next shot stray off target, and that gave her hope. She whipped the wind up until it blew strongly enough to pull some of her hair loose from its clip to send it dancing around her face. When the mini-cyclone reached top speed, she directed it toward her assailant. It took work, but she kept the blast on target.
To her utter amazement, she knocked the dark demon back a step. His facial expression remained unchanged, but Mika had a gut feeling he was every bit as surprised as she.
Her moment of satisfaction was short-lived; he sent a barrage her way. Mika tried to form a tornado again, but she couldn’t concentrate while trying to get away from the magic he was aiming at her. With him having so much firepower, evading every shot was impossible. Mika was nearly caught by two spells, before the third connected dead-on. Her head reeling, she battled to stay upright. Her brain seemed to be misfiring, but one thought registered: If she went down, there was no way on earth she’d be able to get up again—and she wasn’t dying on her knees.
Conor tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he waited for the traffic light to change. This unusual lack of patience he felt was one more irritant he could lay at Mika’s door. He’d never been antsy to get home before she’d arrived, but sometimes the need to be with her nearly staggered him.
Tonight it was something more specific than simply wanting to be with her. From the moment he’d arrived at the location where the bodies were found, he’d had this feeling the whole thing was too pat, too orchestrated. The murders were demon kills, he didn’t doubt that; but after a couple of hours of questioning people, the sense that it was a setup had become overwhelming. A setup for what, though?
If someone hoped to take him out and leave his woman vulnerable, they were in for a surprise. He might loathe one of the powers he’d been born with, fear what using it would do to his humanity, to his very soul, but it also came with a damn near unbeatable advantage. Except, no one had taken a shot at him while he’d been asking questions. That made him uneasy, and the sense was again tied to Mika. But this time he knew she was safe: She’d promised him she wouldn’t leave the house.
The traffic light turned green and he stepped on the accelerator. Mika was his—she hadn’t argued about that. In fact, she’d staked her own claim. Maybe she’d thought he’d be angry, but he’d liked it. Shit, she did have him in the palm of her hand and there was no point in denying it. The only thing to do now was to try to limit the damage Typhoon Mika would leave behind when she blew out of town.
Reluctantly, Conor smiled. He’d miss her like hell when she walked away, but he couldn’t regret being with her. For the first time in his life, he felt connected to another person.
But someday she’d leave, head back home to Orcus. Or maybe head out looking for someone capable of saying I love you. The idea of another man with her made him scowl fiercely, and he forced himself to stop thinking of it. Instead he focused on all the dead ends he kept hitting in his investigation.
It was unusual: Most demons were smart, he’d learned that years ago, but this group seemed to be unusually cunning. They stayed one step ahead of him, and he felt as if he were chasing shadows.
Conor gripped the steering wheel harder. Mika was in serious danger, and he didn’t want to sit around twiddling his thumbs, waiting for trouble. He wanted to be proactive, to take care of the problem before it took care of her. But there was nothing he could do except wait till they tipped their hand.
If it were anyone but Mika, he’d consider a plan of using bait. He could use her to lure the would-be killers into the open at a time and place of his choosing. That kind of advantage could tip the scales in his favor, and he had the weapon Nat had given him. Even though the man had been scared, Conor trusted his info; if Nat said the bulky-looking pistol killed demons, Conor believed it. But because this was Mika, he wouldn’t risk that. He would never risk her. If anything happened to her because of one of his plans, he’d never forgive himself.
The signal turned yellow. Conor would have floored the gas, but the car in front of him stopped and he muttered a curse. It was late; didn’t these people have anything better to do than get in his way? He wanted to get home, to see Mika light up when he opened the door. She’d run her gaze over his body as she walked toward him, checking to make sure he hadn’t been hurt; and when she was satisfied he was fine, a look of relief, of joy, would cross her face. Conor closed his eyes, savoring the image. Then Mika would put her arms around him and—
A horn blared behind him, knocking him out of his daydream, and he took his foot off the brake. He had it bad. She’d become too damn important to him and he’d reached the point where he enjoyed hearing her say, “I love you.” And as much as he liked the words when his cock was deep inside her, he enjoyed hearing them even more outside the bedroom. It gave him a ray of hope that this wasn’t only a heat-of-the-moment thing, but real. He knew better, though. He was protecting her, and in a situation like this, it was easy to confuse gratitude with something deeper.
Conor growled, then shook his head. Since meeting Mika, he’d been making sounds that weren’t human more and more often. And she liked it. Every time a demon noise escaped, he felt the change in her.
Yes, his sexy little whirlwind frightened him more than any enemy he’d ever faced. She could decimate him—which was scary enough—but the most terrifying thing was what she did to his control. His Kiverian nature was slipping the leash with alarming frequency. Sometimes he didn’t realize it had happened until long after the fact. It wasn’t conscious on his part. Certainly, he hadn’t been attempting the integration that Mika promoted, but it seemed to be occurring anyway. Conor ran a hand over his chin and shook his head. She’d turned his life upside down, and he wanted her to stay, wanted her to keep doing it.
But he knew she wouldn’t.
Mika’s ties to Orcus, her mistaking some other emotion for love, his somberness—those were just the tip of the iceberg. Conor had seen his Kiverian side scare people: his mother, a woman he’d had a serious relationship with a few years ago, others. He’d never been able to contain his demon nature tightly enough for any extended period of time. Mika was frightened of the Dark Ones. How long till she became scared of him too?
What he’d done to her in bed…Conor still felt sick when he recalled Mika’s lesson. She’d had him so worked up the other night, he hadn’t been able to think about anything except his lust. He sure hadn’t heard a word she’d said, not until she’d pinched him, and even then there had only been a moment of focus before he’d sunk back into desire. What if she’d been less forceful about getting him to listen? What if she really had said no?
He used his fingers to wipe away the sweat that beaded on his upper lip. Mika wanted him to wonder about his father’s actions on the night Conor was conceived. Her ploy had been a success. He did speculate if the demon had heard anything that had been said, and Conor questioned how assertive his mother had been about breaking through the mindless hunger.
Which made Conor even more determined to remain in command, particularly in bed. Even though they both healed fast, he didn’t like tha
t he’d bit her hard enough to draw blood, that he’d left bruises on her soft skin. But despite his regrets, Mika was able to push him out of his head. The wilder he was when they made love, the more she liked it.
Conor started sweating again, but this had nothing to do with fear. Mika wasn’t experienced—he’d read that right—but what she lacked in skill, she made up for with enthusiasm and imagination.
Traffic thinned out. He couldn’t jump her first thing in the door…could he? They hadn’t done it standing up yet.
The idea of taking her against the wall, only the bare minimum of clothing shoved out of the way, got him hot. Conor shook his head, trying to clear that mental picture. His body was half-hard just from thinking about it, and he had to get his thoughts on something else or he might not be able to walk by the time he arrived home.
He’d see how Mika reacted when he kissed her. Maybe she’d be fine with a quickie in the entryway. And maybe he should keep his damn mind on his driving before he had an accident.
It seemed to take forever before he parked his pickup on the street in front of his house. He turned off the ignition, but he didn’t rush to get out. She’d told him they balanced each other. Conor knew she meant his soberness with her whimsy, but it went deeper. Mika’s joy and laughter had pulled him from limbo, and not only had it brought him to life, but it kept him anchored there. He needed her in ways he was only beginning to comprehend.
Stepping out of his truck, he pocketed his keys and slammed the door. Somehow he had to convince Mika to stay with him.
He rounded the hood, already anticipating the feel of her mouth under his. Her pants had an elastic waistband; he could have them down around her knees in no time. Conor’s lips turned up ruefully. He had it bad, no doubt about it.
Halfway to the front door, it registered. Conor froze, scanning with his senses, and immediately realized his protection had been compromised. Son of a bitch. He strengthened the energy shield that surrounded his body.
It would have been smarter to enter stealthily; he knew that but didn’t give a rat’s ass. His woman needed him. Bursting through the front door, Conor took in the scene in a split second. Another one of those damn dark demons was shooting something at Mika from his hands. She looked half-dazed, hair falling into her face, and Conor knew the bastard had her. The great room was in shambles, as if a tornado had gone through it—Mika’s way of defending herself, he realized.
