by Patti O'Shea
“No, I know you didn’t, but the fact that you’re alive to bitch at all is a miracle.”
Well, kind of a miracle. Reluctantly, Conor looked again at his father. He had to force them out, but the words had to be said: “Thank you.”
“Merely fulfilling my end of the bargain.”
“Maybe, but her life is worth more than yours.”
The Kiverian laughed, and for the first time, Mika noticed him. She stared. “You look just like Conor,” she said.
Conor felt his relief start to slip away. “What the hell is wrong with her?” he demanded. Mika never moved so slowly.
“Nothing’s wrong. She merely needs sleep, and lots of it.”
“But—”
“Hey!” she interrupted. “I’m still here, you know.” She tried to sit up, but didn’t make it. “McCabe, help me.”
With one last glower at the Kiverian, Conor slipped his arm behind Mika and gently raised her to rest against his shoulder. She looked around, then leaned more heavily against him. Conor struggled, not wanting to show weakness in front of his sire, but he couldn’t hold out. Bending over, he pressed a kiss to Mika’s forehead.
Smiling at him, she turned to the Kiverian. “You’re Conor’s father,” she said. It wasn’t a question. “I’m Mika Noguchi.” When she held out her hand, Conor barely kept from growling in displeasure. This wasn’t some damn tea; there was no need for social niceties.
“Sebastian,” the Kiverian said, and when his fingers touched Mika’s, Conor struggled to keep from knocking his arm away.
“You resemble him, you know—right down to the eye color. If you got a haircut, the two of you could pass for brothers.” Conor felt his body becoming more rigid, and only the fact that Mika had nearly died kept him from snarling at her. Maybe she sensed his temper becoming precarious because she changed the subject.
“You’re cloaking us?” she asked.
The demon nodded. “And sending out energy that makes humans find it unappealing to turn down this street.”
“I wish I could do that,” Mika said wistfully. In the next breath, however, she started giving orders. “Okay, we need to get out of here before someone overcomes the shield he’s emitting,” she said. Conor nearly smiled. Her mental slowness appeared to be gone.
“How long does she need to stay in bed?” Conor asked, looking at his father.
“Eighteen hours, minimum, but twenty-four would be better.” The Kiverian shifted his gaze to Mika. “If you can keep her sleeping that long.”
Conor nodded, acknowledging the difficulty. Mika was impatient, impulsive, and she wouldn’t be able to tolerate lying in bed—not for long. “You have a way to make sure she sleeps?” he asked.
“McCabe,” she warned.
His father got to his feet and put his hands in the front pockets of his trousers. “Do you trust me that much?”
Conor didn’t have to think twice. He’d deal with Mika without the bastard’s help. “No.” But…help. That reminded him of something. “You’re working with the dark demons, and they want her dead. Why the hell did you heal her?”
“You won’t like hearing this, but not because I’m frightened of you.”
Conor wanted to stand and face down the bastard, but he fought back his rage. Softly, he said, “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”
The Kiverian shrugged. “Actually, I do know. I’m a healer, and you’re my son.” Conor tensed. He hated hearing he was related to this monster, but the demon continued speaking. “That means there are only two possibilities. After watching you tonight, it’s clear you weren’t born with the power to treat the injured. That means you must be one of the few who have the opposite talent.”
“If you can call it a talent,” Conor muttered.
“As for the Dark Ones,” the Kiverian went on, “my only promise to them was to do what I could to keep you alive.” He paused, glanced at Mika and then continued, his voice low. “Both of them are gunning for her. The dark demons want you to lower the veil between worlds, and they’ll do whatever they must to achieve that. Protect your mate closely, because they view her as a threat.”
Conor’s father glanced around again, but seemed more at ease when he resumed speaking. “There are two auric assassins sent by the Council to eliminate you—both Setonians. I’d thought she was working with them, but learned differently tonight.”
Conor read between the lines and made a guess. “The Setonians broke off their attack because the dark demons arrived. That’s why they disappeared after Mika was hit.”
His father inclined his head. “All demons—even auric assassins—fear the Dark Ones. And with good reason. Whatever stories your woman’s told you, believe them. She’s not lying. They’re the closest thing to true evil I’ve ever seen.”
Then, without waiting for questions, the Kiverian stepped back and faded into his magical fog.
Conor scanned for his father, but picked up nothing. He knew the bastard was still there, though, and he fought to ignore that. Bending down to Mika, he said softly, “Come on, honey, we need to get out of here.”
She murmured, and Conor realized she was half asleep. His heart thudded wildly, but some sense told him she was okay, that this was a healing state. He assisted her to her feet and then lifted her into his arms, carrying her to his pickup.
Once there, though, he didn’t want to let go of her. Damn, he had it bad. Conor had to force himself to stop holding her, and secure her in her seat. And yet he hesitated, watching the rise and fall of her chest until he was satisfied that her breathing remained even and steady. Then, gently, not wanting to disturb her, he leaned in and brushed his lips across hers before closing the door and going around to the driver side.
Maneuvering the truck home through the streets of Crimson City, Conor drove more carefully than he ever had in his life. But then, he’d never carried a more important passenger. His sole focus was getting Mika home safely.
Mika tried to figure out what was brushing across her forehead. She felt…achy, stiff—as if she’d been immobile for days or something. And her head throbbed.
That soft grazing came again, and reluctantly she opened her eyes. McCabe was leaning over her, a concerned expression on his face. “Sorry,” he apologized, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
It was only after he pulled his arm back that she understood Conor’s fingers had been stroking her forehead. She missed their light touch as soon as they were gone. “How long have I been asleep?” she asked. “A hundred years?”
“Nah, only about twenty hours or so.”
“Twenty hours? Hell.” Mika slipped out of bed and moved.
“Where are you going?”
“Bathroom,” she said, and tossed him a get-real look. Did he really think her incapable of going alone?
McCabe was waiting outside the bathroom door when she reemerged. Before she had a chance to protest, he swept her up in his arms and carried her back to bed, carefully tucking her beneath the covers. Once she was settled, he lay at her side, propped himself on one arm and leaned over her.
Mika wanted to sit up, but with Conor hovering, she couldn’t, not without bashing her head into his. Of course, there were worse things than being held prisoner by a sexy man wearing nothing except a pair of shorts.
His expression sober, he asked, “What do you remember about yesterday?”
“Everything,” she said. When Conor looked skeptical at her assertion, she elaborated. “I took a hit—a serious one, if the way you’re hanging over me is any indication—and your father showed up.”
“Don’t refer to him as my father.” Conor’s voice was hard.
Mika reached up and lightly circled the muscle jumping in his cheek with a couple of her fingers. “All right,” she agreed easily. “Sebastian is the one that healed me, right?”
“Yeah.” There was reluctance in Conor’s voice. “But don’t ascribe any altruistic motives to him. The bastard only did it in exchange for my promise not
to kill him.”
Damn, Mika thought. She wished she knew what had gone on after she’d passed out. Obviously, she’d missed a few important moments.
Since she didn’t feel up to tackling the issue of his heritage, not with her head aching, she simply said, “Thanks.”
Some of the fierceness left McCabe’s face. “You don’t have to thank me. You took that blast because you thought you were protecting me.” His expression hardened. “Don’t ever do anything like that again—do you understand me?”
“You’re welcome,” she replied.
Conor sat up and gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. “You have no idea how close you came to dying, but I do. I held you in my arms and felt your life seep away.”
He didn’t say any more, but stared straight ahead. Mika slowly shifted to her knees, the blankets falling away from her as she moved. She smiled faintly at her clothing. Mc-Cabe had put her in the purple panties and a matching tank top. She adjusted one of the spaghetti straps and pressed against his back. “I didn’t die, so don’t think about that.”
He didn’t reply, and the silence lengthened. Mika leaned forward, ran her hands across his chest, and nipped at his nape before kissing it. She considered it a victory that he didn’t tell her to stop or pull away.
“Why did you do it?” Conor finally asked.
Mika froze for a nanosecond, then rested her chin on his shoulder. “That’s easy. I love you.”
“Let go of me,” he said.
Reluctantly, she did. Mika was confused, though. He’d called her honey again, he’d been touching her and letting her touch him, why had he suddenly told her to stop? Did he still want her to keep her feelings to herself?
McCabe shifted, arranged a couple of pillows against the headboard of the bed, sat back and patted his leg. “Come here,” he said.
If his voice hadn’t been soft, if it hadn’t held something close to a plea, she would have taken exception. But there was that note of entreaty, and so Mika did as he asked. Conor settled her between his thighs, her back to his chest, and wrapped his arms around her. “I told you,” he said quietly, near her ear, “not to worry about me, that I wouldn’t get hurt. You never should have put yourself in the line of fire.”
Mika glared at Conor over her shoulder. “You’re not indestructible,” she snapped.
“I know that. Damn it, you nearly died—don’t you get that? I could have taken that hit without it affecting me.”
She broke his hold and turned, going up on her knees and pinning him against the headboard with both hands. “You can’t be serious. There is no way that shot wouldn’t have hurt you.”
He scowled at her, grumbled a bit and then took a deep breath. “One of my powers is protection. I can absorb magical energy and use it.”
“But the only demons rumored to be able to do that are…Oh.” She gaped. Did he understand what he was saying? Mika stared into his eyes, saw the distaste, the concern, and realized he was aware of exactly what he was capable of. “Well, that explains why you knew more than anyone in the human world should about auric assassins.” She began caressing his shoulders rather than pushing at them. “Relax, this stays between us. You’re my vishtau mate—your secrets are my secrets.”
His hands went to her waist. “I wasn’t worried you’d tell.”
“What were you—You were concerned about my reaction?”
Conor nodded. “It gives me an unfair advantage. The only people with a defense against it are other aurics. It’s a terrible power, demonic in the old human sense of the word. One shot and the victim’s dead. I never use it. It’s too ugly.”
Mika studied him, trying to read between the lines. “You’re an honorable man. You’re not a murderer.” Something occurred to her then. “Do you really think it matters to me what your powers are? Auric assassin or barely able to call up a breeze, I’d love you anyway.”
“You told me you’d have nothing to do with a weak demon,” he accused.
She had. She remembered. But…
“I know I did, but none of them were you,” she admitted. He appeared skeptical. She gripped his hand, trying to get through to him. “Even if you were from the weakest branch, even if you weren’t my mate—I’d love you still, Conor. Don’t you understand? It’s you. This goes beyond demon or human, powerful or weak. This was meant to be,” she swore. And it surprised her, but she meant it.
McCabe’s hands tightened around her waist, drew Mika in until she had to lean against his chest to keep her balance. Since she was right there, she kissed him slowly and thoroughly. She began to ease away, then was overcome by another burst of passion and returned for another, longer kiss. Finally, she broke free and rubbed her nose against his, then sat back far enough to see his eyes. “Well, at least I’ll know the next time Setonians attack that I don’t need to throw myself in front of you.” She laughed.
“Don’t joke about that.”
“Sorry.” She took one of her hands from Conor’s face and pushed her hair out of her way. “If I’m recalling correctly, your—um, Sebastian—said there were two auric assassins working for the Council. Before I agreed to do this, I made them promise not to harm you. Obviously I did a poor job of negotiating, but I wasn’t involved in any plot to kill you, I swear!”
“I know you weren’t.” Conor grimaced, visibly steeling himself. “If the idea of everything between us being a lie hadn’t hurt so much, I would have seen sooner that you’d never be a part of such a plot.”
“What I feel for you isn’t a lie!” she snarled. Mika started to pull away, but Conor held fast.
“I know,” he said. More softly, he repeated, “I know that now. When you shielded me, I was finally able to look beyond the deceptions. The only times you weren’t straight with me was when it affected your job of retrieving the incantation. Am I right?”
Mika nodded, and his fingers spasmed against her back. She said, “Whatever you want to know, just ask. There’s nothing I won’t answer, and honestly.”
He leaned forward and down, and lightly bit her nipple through her tank top. Mika gasped and arched, but he didn’t do more. Instead he said, “We don’t have to play twenty questions. I know who you are at your heart, and that’s what counts. The rest is just details.”
She started to smile, but stopped; she continued to feel uncertain. “Are we really okay? You were so angry at me yesterday, and now you’re not. I want to make sure that we have everything worked out, that you’ve forgiven me.”
“I’m not mad anymore. Do I like the fact you lied to me? No, but I understand. You made that promise before we ever met, and those of Orcus never break their word.”
She nodded regretfully. “If I hadn’t promised, I would have come clean pretty quickly. I hated lying to you almost immediately.”
“And you’re not going to lie any more, right?”
His voice had a slight edge, which made her lips curve, it was so Conor. “With you, I’ll be completely honest. I’m not making any promises about anyone else.”
He shook his head with a short chuckle, and she reached up to hold him still, then planted a quick kiss on his lips. She enjoyed his laugh. “I do love you, Conor,” she swore.
“I believe you,” he replied.
For a moment, he studied her, something that appeared close to confusion in his eyes; then the expression segued to reluctance. Before she could protest, he moved her so that she no longer touched his body. “We’ve got two problems we need to solve.”
“Only two?” she joked. Her lips quirked up at the corners, and to her delight, his did as well.
“How about, our immediate problems stem from two sources—the dark demons and the Council?”
“Sounds about right. And neither problem will be easy to fix. The dark demons’ aims are in opposition to the Council’s, so working on one situation will likely exacerbate the other.”
McCabe frowned. “Which of the two do you think will be easier to resolve?”
Warm
th filled her. He was asking for her opinion, treating her as a partner and not merely someone to protect. She said, “Each has pitfalls, but overall I’d say the Council will be much easier to handle than the Dark Ones.”
“Why?”
“Temperament more than anything. The Council isn’t a benevolent body by any means, but they’re predictable to a degree—they always act in their own best interest. They’re also possible to reason with. From what I’ve heard and seen, not only are the Dark Ones unswerving once they set themselves on course, they’re willing to sacrifice anyone or anything to achieve their aims. For them, the end always justifies the means.”
“They can’t all move in lockstep. There must be dissension,” Conor suggested.
Mika shifted to a more comfortable position and leaned against his bent leg. The hard muscles of his thigh pressed her side and distracted her for a moment, but she wouldn’t lose her focus, not when McCabe was asking for her thoughts. “Maybe there is dissension,” she said after some consideration, “but I’ve never seen it. Remember, I told you they keep to themselves, and that when they do come out, everyone scatters.”
“Yeah, I remember.” Conor ran a hand across the back of his neck and scowled. She could see he was weighing their options, and guessed he wasn’t too thrilled with them. “Okay, looks like we get the Council off our asses first, then we only will have the dark demons to worry about.”
With her right index finger, Mika traced the frown line on the left side of his mouth. Only the dark demons? she thought. Those were enough. But she didn’t say so. Instead she said, “I know you want me safe, but what you suggested first makes the most sense.”
“Yeah. But I don’t like it,” he growled.
“Of course not,” she agreed. As Conor captured her and bit the fleshy part of her palm, it sent a shiver through her. Mika turned her hand, linked her fingers with his and smiled as he kissed her knuckles. But she couldn’t fully enjoy the play, not when she was distracted by her thoughts.
The Council’s aim was to retrieve and destroy the spell. If McCabe handed it over, they might be amenable to recalling their assassins. It seemed a logical plan, but she hesitated to raise it, afraid it would anger him—afraid that Conor would think she was still scheming to get that stupid thing when nothing was further from the truth. It drove home that, even if he’d forgiven her, the fallout from her previous dishonesty would last for a while.
