by Patti O'Shea
“What?” His tone startled her.
“Well, there have been rumors that the dark demons found another bond that leads to conception, but—”
“I don’t give a fuck about the dark demons,” he interrupted, pinning her with the hardest look she’d ever gotten from him. “We didn’t use birth control that one time.”
Although he didn’t say it, she knew he referred to the time she’d recited the rauthima ritual. “It was only once.”
“That’s all it takes.” Conor released her and walked away. When he reached the wall, he put his palm against it and leaned forward before cursing a few more times.
Hurt filled every cell in her body before anger replaced it. “You weren’t worried before, but now it’s a concern? Well, you can put your mind at ease, McCabe. Odds are slim I’m pregnant. The average time before conception is around seven years.”
He turned back to her. “Average,” he said. “That means sometimes it happens faster. Likely, sometimes much faster.”
“And it also means that sometimes it takes longer. Like I said, don’t worry.” Mika flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I can see how much you dislike the idea, and I won’t burden you if it turns out we’re a more fertile match than most.”
Before she could escape, he caught her and jerked her around to face him. “If you’re pregnant, you had damn well better tell me.”
She supposed that meant he didn’t plan on waiting around with her to find out. Mika dug her nails into her palms, trying to fight back the pain. She might not like it, but it wasn’t something she could hide. Those of demon blood were connected to their children, and he’d be aware of the baby the minute she gave birth. Besides, the chances of her being pregnant were so minuscule that it cost her almost nothing to grant his promise. “You have my word: I’ll contact you if it’s necessary.”
“You better.” The growl was so pronounced in his voice that Mika didn’t doubt his resolve. For a long moment, he stared at her, maybe judging her sincerity; then he asked, “When did you realize we had this bond? From the start?”
“I suspected before I crossed the veil,” she admitted. “And it was confirmed when we met. My response to you was overwhelmingly sexual. That came from the vishtau”—she grabbed his forearm and squeezed—“and not some plan to keep you from thinking about what I was doing.” She didn’t know why she bothered to explain when he was so unreceptive.
Conor pulled free and walked away. Again, pain swamped her. It hurt something fierce to lose him and she could see him growing more distant already. “I love you,” she said quietly.
His reaction was immediate. In a blur of motion, he pinned her to the wall, his hand resting at the base of her throat. He wasn’t as threatening as the night they’d met, but close. “I don’t want to hear that lie from you again,” he snarled.
“It’s not a lie.” She held his gaze so that he’d know she was speaking the truth, but it wasn’t easy with her head swimming.
“It’s not real emotion, but some biological connection. It means nothing.”
He was so near. An hour ago, she could have leaned in and nuzzled the pulse hammering in his throat. She could have whispered sex words in his ear and enjoyed the results. Now, she didn’t dare respond sexually. Though Conor would hate to know this, there wasn’t much human about him at the moment; she was facing an infuriated Kiverian male. She trusted that he’d never hurt her physically, but no one with a brain would goad someone in this mood.
“The bond doesn’t guarantee strong emotions,” she informed him. She kept her tone matter-of-fact. “My parents are fond of each other, but they never fell in love.” Mika lost her detachment and reached for him. “What I feel for you is real, Conor—as real as it gets.”
If she’d been smart, she wouldn’t have said that last part since it caused his temper to spike. All she saw was red in his eyes now, which was strong enough to burn through the green tint in his lenses. “Don’t fucking lie to me,” he snarled.
Each word was bitten out, and Mika realized he was balanced on a razor’s edge. She began to drop her gaze, to act submissive, but stopped as she recalled how much he’d hated it the last time. As furious as he was with her, the last thing she wanted was to enrage him more.
“I swear, no more lies,” she said quietly. He looked skeptical. “Demons don’t break their promises, you know that.”
Some of the fire faded, though his eyes continued to glow. McCabe released her and said, “I want to know everything about why you’re here. Start at the beginning.”
“Do you mind if we sit down? I will tell you all I know,” she added hurriedly when his expression hardened once more. “But there’s no reason we can’t be comfortable, is there?”
After a moment of hesitation, probably trying to decide if she was up to something, Conor stepped away. Mika took a deep breath and tried for nonchalance as she walked to the couch. She couldn’t let him know how adrift she felt; in a matter of days, he’d become her cornerstone, and just as she’d begun to rely on that foundation, it had been jerked out from beneath her.
In all fairness, she couldn’t blame McCabe. As soon as she’d met him, Mika had known he wouldn’t take her subterfuge lightly. She’d even planned to stay around and face the music after fulfilling her mission. Well, the band was playing—too bad it was earlier than she’d expected.
She sat on the end opposite the bookcase and tucked her right ankle under her left knee. Without a word, Conor joined her, sitting as far away as he could get. He gestured. There was no mistaking that the motion meant start talking.
“I didn’t go looking for this job,” Mika said. She was uncertain how much he knew of demon society, but she decided that if he had questions, he wouldn’t be shy about asking them. “I’m largely ignored by other demons, and it was a surprise to be approached by an aide to the Council. My first thought was that they wanted me permanently out of Orcus.”
Mika smiled at Conor, but he only stared back at her. Sobering, she tugged the hem of her T-shirt and continued. “They had a favor to ask me. That shocked me even more than being summoned to the Council chamber. I’m a weak demon—what could I do that they, or some other demon, couldn’t do more easily?”
“Get to me.” His voice was flat, and Mika bit back a sigh.
“They weren’t that blunt. There was some mild ass kissing, but it wasn’t overdone. Looking back I can see how they played me, but at the time”—she shrugged—“it seemed legitimate. I felt as if they valued me.”
But she’d promised him complete honesty, so she went on. “I was going to turn down the mission, then they handed me your file and told me to look through it. Once I saw your picture and suspected you were my mate, I knew I had to meet you.”
“You didn’t need the Council’s job for that.”
“I know. Except, I realized that they wanted you dead. If you had the spell memorized, you could recite it even without a written copy. I bargained with them.” She leaned forward, hoping her intensity, her sincerity would pierce his anger. “I told them I’d do it if they vowed not to harm you.”
“Sure,” he drawled sarcastically.
Mika ignored him. “As I’ve thought about it, though, I decided they were correct about one thing—that incantation does need to be destroyed. My mother lives in Orcus and so does my gran, my half brother, and other assorted relatives. I won’t allow their wills to be enslaved by anyone,” she said fiercely. “Not even you. It’s not right.”
He snorted. “I have no plans to enslave anyone. Do you think I want a bunch of demonic serfs?”
“Well, how was I supposed to know? I hadn’t met you yet when I gave the Council my word.”
“But you figured it out once you got to know me.”
She couldn’t decipher the emotion in his voice, so decided to take his words at face value. “I know you hate demons.” She quirked up one side of her mouth at the understatement. “But I’ve also learned that you’re honorable. I don’t
think you’d perform the spell—but it doesn’t matter. The Council insisted I make a promise.”
McCabe sighed impatiently. “I heard that the first time, and we both know demons never go back on their word. So despite everything that’s happened between us, you have no choice.”
“Right!” She leaned forward again, optimistic that he finally understood. Maybe he could forgive her.
“Did you promise the Council that you wouldn’t reveal your mission to me?”
Hope died. Mika could guess which direction Conor was headed with his questions. “No, but if I told you why I was here and you refused to hand over the spell, it would be the same as not doing my utmost to secure it. And I did vow to give it the best effort I was capable of giving.”
“You can assure the Council that you sacrificed everything.”
His neutral tone almost disguised the dig, and it took her a few seconds to catch on. “I didn’t make love with you for that stupid spell! I went to bed with you because I wanted you, because I lo—” She cut herself off before she finished. Conor would become livid again if she said that. “It was about us, not my assignment,” she finished more quietly.
He shrugged, and Mika rumbled low in her throat. He was determined to deride what they’d shared, and she refused to allow that. Their relationship was special, important. He could deny it aloud all he wanted, try to convince himself that it was part of her ruse, but in his heart, he had to know the truth. Furious, Mika pushed to her feet.
“Sit down,” he commanded softly.
Mika sat. She still hoped to overcome his sense of betrayal and the outrage that went with it, and so she wasn’t going to make things worse. “What else did you want to know?” she asked.
“How many others are with you?”
“What? No one. Oh, I was supposed to report in to a human minion, and he was to pass along my reports to the Council, but I only heard from him once. Maybe. That might have been a trick to get me—” She cut herself off, but again she wasn’t fast enough.
“To get you to that park? Do you even have a cousin?”
Offering him a weak smile, Mika said, “Of course I have a cousin. Kimi—Kimiko Noguchi—is real and as close as a sister to me. If she lived in Crimson City and—”
He cut her off. “But she doesn’t live here.”
“She’s in college at Berkeley.”
He swore. “What the hell have you told me that is true?”
Mika kept her mouth shut. If she said that she truly loved him, he’d only get pissed off all over again. Besides, she knew a rhetorical question when she heard one.
“Never mind.” Conor rubbed the back of his neck. “What about the demons that are here to kill me when you give the nod?”
“Didn’t you hear a word I said? I took this job to keep them from killing you. But even if I hadn’t, do you think I’d be involved in cold-blooded murder?” She was disgusted. What did he think of her? “I’m not part of some plot to kill you, and I don’t know why you keep insisting I am!”
Grabbing her bent leg, he tugged her across the couch until her knee bumped him. “Because I was told there were assassins waiting to take me out as soon as you had the spell.”
“Who told you that?” she asked.
“Someone I trust. Someone who’s never lied to me.”
“Whoever it is, they’re wrong. I made the Council promise not to hurt you.” Mika tried again to recall the exact wording of their vow, but it eluded her. “I was off balance from being called to their chambers, though, from wondering if you were my mate. Maybe I didn’t get the oath as solid as I thought.”
“You’re backpedaling pretty damn fast,” he suggested.
She gritted her teeth. “Damn it, McCabe, give me a break. I’m not part of any plot to off you. Didn’t I save your life from that auric assassin?”
“That could have been staged to win my confidence. You could simply have been acting like the lying, untrustworthy, demonic—”
Mika growled—a long, low sound. “I’m through being insulted. Yes, I lied to you. Yes, I had ulterior motives for approaching you. But that doesn’t give you unlimited free shots at me.” She fisted her hand in the neck of his T-shirt and twisted the fabric to yank him closer. “I love you, Mc-Cabe.” She jerked hard on his shirt when he opened his mouth to interrupt her. “I don’t care if you don’t want to hear. Deal with it. I love you and I’ll protect you with my life, so don’t you dare insinuate that I’d let anyone hurt you, let alone help them.”
With that, she released him and stood up. She needed to get away from him for a while or there was no telling what she’d say or do. She was halfway to the bedroom when he stopped her.
“Come back here.”
“No.” She didn’t quit walking.
“We need to discuss what our story is going to be when I call B-Ops. That can’t wait.”
“B-Ops? What for?” Curiosity made her turn to study his face. Conor remained expressionless.
“That dark bastard killed a friend of mine and left his body in the backyard. With the signs of a struggle in here, it shouldn’t be hard to convince the team that we had a simple break-in, but we need to get our stories straight. I don’t want them looking at you too closely. And I don’t want them to realize that Ben’s death wasn’t from natural causes. The Dark Ones are mine, and I don’t want B-Ops involved.”
Mika didn’t offer her condolences about Ben; clearly McCabe didn’t want to hear them. But her heart broke for his loss. With a sigh, she headed back to the sofa. This night wasn’t over yet.
It was late. Or early, depending on how you looked at it. Conor used his thumbnail to pick at the Evil Twin Brewery label on the bottle he held, and tried to ignore the sound of Mika’s breathing. He was at his desk and she was in bed, but he couldn’t tune her out. Maybe he wasn’t trying hard enough.
She wasn’t asleep. He’d only known her for days, and yet he was familiar enough with the rhythm of her breathing to know when she was and wasn’t conscious. He would have cursed, but he didn’t have the heart for it. Not when he could see the coroner carting Ben away in a body bag. And damn her, Mika had stood right beside him, slipping her hand into his and holding on tight until the vehicle pulled away.
Conor gave up trying to separate the label from the glass and put the empty bottle down on his desk. She’d probably still be hanging on to him if the lead B-Ops investigator hadn’t come over. He exhaled long and slow. Mika was one hell of an accomplished liar, and he wasn’t talking about how she’d worked him over. The team had taken one glance at her innocent-looking face and fallen all over themselves to make things easier for her after the ordeal of the break-in. Even the females of the group had bought her act hook, line and sinker. Mika was the younger sister each of them wanted to protect. Never mind that she was physically stronger than every single one of them and far more dangerous.
He’d been prepared to use a bit of mind control magic to sway the situation, but it hadn’t been necessary—not with Mika spinning out their story so skillfully. She’d added a few tears at appropriate moments, and men had fought to offer her tissues. Even the incident with her car exploding hadn’t raised any suspicion—merely speculation that she had a stalker.
Straightening in his seat, Conor ran a hand over the back of his neck and sighed. They’d stuck mostly to the truth: A male had broken into the house and attacked Mika; she’d fought him, and when Conor arrived home, the man had decided the game was up and run. Ben’s body had been the hard part, but when Mika said that he’d been coming to town to meet her and give their love his blessing, almost the whole team smiled. Smiled! What the hell?
And when someone collected his thoughts enough to ask what Ben had been doing at their house at that time of night, outside, Mika had simply shrugged and told them he’d been supposed to arrive tomorrow, but must have gotten to town early.
Thinking about it, Conor shook his head. Giving a slight tremble to her lower lip, Mika had claimed she’d b
een scared, in need of comfort, and Conor had been seeing to her. It wasn’t until later when Conor had gone outside that he’d discovered his friend’s body. And Mika had managed to make a fat tear roll down her cheek. Shit. The woman was wasted in Orcus; she should be on the big screen.
He heard her shift in bed, and sighed again. Maybe he should be grateful Mika had taken the spotlight. Her act had shielded them both. The idea of lying about what had happened to his friend was more than he could swallow— and yet he’d had no choice, unless he’d wanted a government inquiry. Then she’d taken over. Conor grimaced. He’d quickly become superfluous, merely the lover who’d arrived in the nick of time.
The worst thing was, in the middle of this performance Marc Hayes had shown up. Someone must have tipped the man off, and it was the last thing they’d needed. He’d watched Mika much too closely—her damn light-colored eyes—and had asked some pointed questions. Conor wished they could have avoided the whole situation, but what was the alternative? Leave Ben in the backyard?
Such falsehoods shouldn’t weigh so heavily on him. He knew no one else in Crimson City could handle this situation, that it was up to him to take down the dark demons; but it still felt wrong. Ben had been there for him, and now…Conor cut himself off. He couldn’t think; not today. The loss was too strong. After he eliminated the dark demons, after he got Mika the hell out of his house, then he’d take the time to mourn.
Sometimes he worried about how easy it was for him to compartmentalize. Ben was probably the one person on earth who’d ever given a shit about him, and Conor had no difficulty locking down his emotions over his friend’s death. That seemed wrong. Especially when he was unable to push Mika out of his thoughts.
She shifted her body and he froze, hoping she stayed out of his way. He couldn’t look at her yet. Not with her betrayal fresh in his mind. She’d done something crueler than lie. Mika had given him hope, and then snatched it away. When he heard her settle again, he relaxed. But he couldn’t help wondering, how close had she been to locating the spell and disappearing?
