He dangled the beer bottle between his crooked first and second fingers. “There’s more to do.”
“Have you checked on Vahid?”
“He’s fine.”
She nodded. He stood there, doing nothing. Not the least susceptible. It was so easy with demons of his power to forget they weren’t human and react to them as if they were. Quiet settled in, not comfortable. Please, please, no awkward silences. But, of course, the silence was awkward. “Sit down, please.”
She put macaroni on the table in front of his empty chair, but the bowl landed with a too-loud clack. He sat and stared at the table as if he were fascinated by what she thought was probably expensive glassware. The center of her magic remained off-kilter. He wasn’t really her mageheld. It wasn’t real. She wouldn’t let it be.
“Eat, would you?” she said. “It’ll get cold.” Great. Now she sounded like someone’s mother.
He sat and picked up his fork. He didn’t say fucking witch, but she could tell he was thinking it. The utensil clinked against the bowl when he dropped it. “Sit down, Winters.”
She was too keyed up to be hungry, but she made herself eat. Tasted like cardboard to her. “No sign of Cifai yet.”
“Fucking mage.”
“He could be on his way here.”
“Could be.” He kept eating.
“Minutes away, maybe. Or hours.” She stirred her noodles, not even remotely hungry. “I can’t stop thinking about why he’s not here yet.”
“Stupidly overconfident?”
That made her laugh. “Maybe.” Her amusement didn’t last long. “Or Cifai and his associates might be rounding up reinforcements.”
“They’ll need them, they think they can take me.”
“Thirteen?” Thirteen being a number that added power to any ritual. Thirteen mages. Thirteen magehelds.
He put down his fork and took another drink of beer. “Magellan needed two sets of thirteen for me.”
Any possibility that she could eat anything else vanished.
“I killed the first thirteen.” He started eating again. “More likely he’s double-crossing Sessani. He probably told her and whoever else is involved that Vahid failed. He has to wait before he shows up, or else Sessani will know he lied.”
That was an entirely likely scenario. “You’re probably right.”
He nodded.
“All right then. What’s the plan while we wait?” she asked.
“Besides finishing the wards?” His response was calm and even. She appreciated his effort not to be difficult.
“Yes.” She forced herself to eat another bite. Delicious cardboard. If she kept telling herself that, maybe she’d believe it.
“We wait for Cifai to call or show up.” He grunted. “Durian will probably get here first.”
“Then what?”
He gave her a slow smile. “He’s not getting in.”
She hadn’t touched her forehead when he came in, and the urge to remedy the failure was creeping up her spine and winding around the base of her skull. If anything was proof he wasn’t her mageheld, that was it. She absolutely would not. She stirred her noodles. “Paisley’s right about using more butter.”
“She’s always right.” He leaned back, fingers curved around his beer. “Any thoughts about what we should do while we wait for someone who wants to kill us to show up?”
Her thoughts wouldn’t stop spinning. He was keeping his distance, and that was good. Unfortunately, it wasn’t helping. But he was trying, and so should she. She caught the edge of an idea before it went whirling away. “I guess we should be obvious about being here. For Durian.”
“Yeah.” He took a swig of beer, then ran a hand over his shorn hair. “The two of us, inseparable as only mageheld and witch can be.”
“Let’s talk about something else.”
“Like what?” he said.
Anything that didn’t touch on the way his magic seeped into her bones. Any subject that didn’t remind her of the hour or two that night when she’d thought the demon she’d found so fascinating would be even more fascinating in bed. “I don’t know. Anything.”
He drank more beer. He was like a downed power line, sparking with deadly energy. He met her gaze while he put down his beer. “It’s thirsty work, doing the wards like this.”
“Of course.” He’d been laying down wards since they’d arrived, and he’d done it without shifting to any of his other forms. She’d have felt the change in his magic if he had. “Can I get you another?”
Under normal circumstances, a demon who was passing didn’t have the same caloric needs a human did, but they didn’t have none, and there were times they had a lot. For reasons they probably both wished weren’t the case, she happened to know that as Magellan’s most prized mageheld, he’d endured long periods without food or water. Magellan timed such deprivations to inflict maximum suffering, meaning he’d forbid a mageheld to change out of human form and then refuse them food and water.
“Stop being so fucking careful, Winters. It’s annoying. If I want another beer, I’ll get one myself.” Mostly empty bottle in hand, he stretched out his legs. And then they sat there with nothing to say to each other. He ran a hand over his shorn hair.
She went to the fridge and grabbed two of the beers. “I’m going to watch a movie while we wait.” The last thing she wanted was to fall asleep and wake up with Kynan taking over her dreams. “You’re welcome to join me.”
He stared at her like she’d grown a second head.
Maddy walked past him with both beers.
CHAPTER 11
In the living room Maddy put both the beers on the table beside the sofa and set herself to figuring out the television. Expensive house, expensive electronics. With a press of the remote, a small box with the logo of a high-end manufacturer whirred to life. This she could deal with while they waited for Cifai or Durian to show up.
She’d just found a listing of movies when Kynan walked in. She resented the hell out of him for looking so relaxed instead of tense and hyped-up like she was. Like nothing bothered him. He took one of the beers, popped it open with a thumb and held out a hand for the remote. She didn’t take it personally. Even with other kin, he had to be in charge of the remote. All of them deferred to him on the issue. She sighed and handed it over. If this meant they didn’t argue, letting him hold the remote seemed worth it.
He sat at the far end of the couch and scrolled through categories and listings. “You pick.”
She knew how this went. She could choose something he wanted to watch, or she could listen to him complain about her choice. “What if I pick something you hate?”
“We’ll negotiate if you do, but I’m safe.” He set his ankle on his knee and took a long drink of his beer. “You hate chick flicks.”
“How would you know?”
He shrugged. “You never vote for chick flicks.”
“I do too.”
He glanced at her before going back to working the remote. “No, you don’t. How else would I know you don’t like them? Pick something, would you?”
“Maybe I never pick what I want.”
He tapped his thigh. “Then pick what you want now. I can deal.”
She read through the list in the category he’d selected: martial arts. Maybe he had been paying attention. “I haven’t seen Contract Killer in a while. If they have the Hong Kong version, that one.”
“We can watch a chick flick. What about that runaway bride thing?”
“Ugh. No.” She made a face. “I hate movies like that.”
“See?” he said, far too smug.
“It’s not that. I just don’t believe in weddings or happy endings.”
“No runaway brides then.” He brought up the description for Contract Killer, and it wasn’t the butchered version for North America. “Looks like you’re in luck.”
“Turn on the captioning.”
He clicked through, and a few seconds later the movie was on. She took
a sip of her beer. Over the years, her determination to keep her distance from anything to do with Kynan Aijan had become a defining characteristic of her life. Her work for Nikodemus consumed her. There was almost no facet of her life that didn’t center on that. She was a lawyer because if you wanted to change things, access to the legal system was key. Along came Nikodemus with his offer of creating and running his interface to the human world, and she couldn’t imagine a more effective way to achieve change. She’d been doing it, too. Helping make it work.
She stared at the bottle and the devil character on the label while the opening played. By the first fight scene, she was less unsettled. They watched, perfectly fine at opposite ends of the couch. Practically normal.
Kynan finished his beer and took the empty one to the kitchen. She paused the movie, and when she was returning the remote to his end of the couch, the center of her chest vibrated. Before she could call out a warning, Kynan returned. “I knew he’d send Durian.”
He headed straight to the window and stared out. None of the wards reacted. He put a hand behind his back and gestured for her to join him. She stood beside him in full view, and he put his hand on the middle of her back and said, “Yes, witch.”
She didn’t move or react. She needed to play the part of a witch with her mageheld. No big deal. Except not. He gazed at nothing. Except not nothing. Durian was out there. Kynan’s warmth drew her in, soothed the sharp edges of the fear that came with knowing they’d been found. “He got here faster than I thought.”
“Mad skills, that one.” He laughed. His fingers stroked her spine. Her nerves flew apart. This was a habit of the kin, that casual contact. She’d seen him do the same thing with Emily and Addison, even more intimate with them, and arm looped around a shoulder, bringing the woman in close. This was more like the contact he had with Sheth and Iskander. Incidental at best.
“If this were a sanction, he’d already be inside,” she said.
“No. He wouldn’t.” His hand stayed on her back for several more seconds. Then he put his other hand on the casing. “He’s not getting in without a fight he might lose, and he knows it. For now, he’s here to watch. That’s all he can do.” Kynan glared into the darkness. “Nikodemus will be here with a team. Probably Carson herself.” He turned his head and dampened their conversation. “If we’re lucky, we can get her to sever our buddy in there when she gets here.”
She bowed her head, but realized what a terrible idea that was when Kynan hissed in warning. She looked out the window. For Durian’s benefit, she said, “You will protect me from him.”
“Fuck you, witch.” He meant that for Durian, but it still made her heart leap. Durian was no longer her fellow sworn. He owed her nothing. Until Nikodemus could fix things, playacting aside, if Durian did go after her, Kynan’s promise to Nikodemus obligated him to protect her. So, no difference really.
Again, he turned his head and dampened his words. “He’s here to observe, Maddy. That’s all.” He looked out the window again. “Nikodemus knows we’re here.”
She returned to the couch, and a few minutes later, Kynan sat next to her, closer than she liked, but that was for Durian to see. The middle of her back was still vibrating from his touch. She was horribly aware there were only a few inches between them. So close. She wanted to put her arms around him and sink into the heat of his body, and she couldn’t do that.
“It’s a quarter after eleven,” he said. The gentleness of his tone tugged at her, and she had to swallow hard. “You should try to get some sleep.”
“I’m not tired.” True. She wasn’t. She couldn’t afford to be.
He gave her a skeptical look. “Humans need sleep. Even you. If Durian makes it inside for some reason or Cifai shows up, you’ll know and wake up.” He gave her a cockeyed smile. “If you sleep through the excitement, I’ll wake you up before it’s too late. Promise.”
“Okay.” But she didn’t get up.
“You’re not as okay as you think,” he said.
“Maybe.” She took stock of herself. That turned out to be a mistake because without her oath to Nikodemus, her bonds with Kynan burned brighter than ever, and the link between them pulsed with the magic that mimicked the mageheld bond. Sickening. Alluring. No matter how hard she tried to keep her awareness of that shoved to the side, the magic trickled through her like poisoned water through hairline fractures. She slouched down, staring at the ceiling.
He stayed where he was and they sat in silence until he said, “Whatever happens with Cifai, once Nikodemus arrives, all this gets settled one way or another.”
The lump in her throat was back. They were so broken, she and Kynan, but for the first time she wondered whether that was her fault more than his. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
She continued to stare at the ceiling. He’d warded there, too. “How badly have I screwed things up with you?”
“Oh, it’s bad. Really bad.”
“Be serious.”
“Then tell me what you mean or give me a fucking link.”
She sat up and turned her torso toward him. Better. She was better. They both were. “I don’t think I know you. Not enough.”
He cocked his head. “Whatever you think, you’re not far wrong.”
She ran her fingers through her hair and held the mass off her neck, using that as an excuse to give in to the urge to bow her head to him without formally doing so. He wasn’t fooled, though.
“You’re doing good, considering. You’ll be okay.”
“Sure.” She waved him off. “All the bullshit is gone. I don’t feel”—she wiggled her hands—“the antagonism.” This time, she looked directly at him. “Or has it been me all this time?”
“No, it hasn’t just been you.” His face was a little too blank.
A risk, always a risk to look a demon straight in the eye like that, even when you were trained and had experience. With the way everything had changed between them, maybe it wasn’t as safe for her as usual. “I think you’re lying.”
He got a shit-faced grin, and he was so ridiculously charming, and that set off a quiver of attraction. No matter how awful things were, they always had this confounding, amazing, exhilarating attraction to each other. Inconvenient and undeniable. At least she understood wanting sex. The rest was confusing or dangerous or both. “You got no way to know that, do you?” he said.
She slid across the sofa to him. She accepted her sexual response. Pure chemistry, the way the two of them were. “I don’t. But you’re not being an asshole. So, I have to ask, why? Why is this working now?” She put a hand on his cheek, fingers resting lightly on his skin. She didn’t dare reach out with her magic; the pull between them was emphatic enough without her making it worse. She slid her fingers over his face. “Why are we normal now when everything’s going to hell?”
He grabbed her fingers and held them to one side. Magic zinged between them. “There’s nothing normal about us.”
“True.” Her shiver of arousal increased. There was no reason to ignore the butterflies swooping around in her stomach. In fact, giving in to them would be the most normal thing that had happened to them lately.
“You’ve always known I’m fucked-up.” He shrugged. “Maybe now you’re okay with that.”
She laughed. “When I saw you that day in Berkeley, all the girls were staring at you. In those first few seconds, I thought you looked so nice.”
Kynan turned his head toward her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. Another buzz of magic transferred to her. This incredible tension was how they always were. She loved it. How could she not? She didn’t move because her insides went soft and shivery. “I’m not nice,” he said in a low voice that was temptation covered over with that warm, golden silk. He kissed the tip of her index finger. “Don’t make that mistake.”
“I won’t.” They were good together like this. Combustible. “It’s nice not to be pissed at you.”
“No argument there.”
She gave him a playful push. “It’s practically pleasant to be with you when I’m not convinced you’re being a dick.”
“I’m a total dick, Winters.” He laughed, a velvet sound, intriguing and compelling, still with his face turned toward her hand. He licked from the base of her palm to the tip of her middle finger. “A complete and total dick.”
His breath vibrated against her skin. This, she understood. “See?” she said. “That’s what I mean. Have I been wrong about you all this time? I really don’t want to owe you that big an apology.”
“I was fucking crazy, Winters. You know that. Nikodemus was ready to kill me. And he would’ve been right to do it.” He kissed her fingertips again, not looking at her. His tongue flicked out, too warm for a normal human. The spot on her back where his hand had been, that tingled again. As if he were touching her there now when he wasn’t.
She should move. She should go back to the movie and stop this now. But she was having this insanely visceral moment here, and she was remembering the way he was her, what she liked. What he liked. Nobody knew her the way he did. “What’s it like for you? This. With me not falling apart, and you not being a dick?”
“Don’t get used to it. It won’t last.” He slid his mouth down to her wrist, and there was really no getting around the fact that he was kissing her, or that she was letting him, and she allowed herself to fall into this moment. So simple with them when it was just the sex. This was astonishing, the impact of him, the two of them, without all the rest. There was the slightest sting from the pressure of his teeth, but he didn’t bite down. Because he knew she’d want him to? She did want that rush of adrenaline, and he knew it. He had to know.
“We should take advantage of the lull,” she said.
“Do you really want to know what it’s like for me?” His voice felt like warm, liquid gold, and she got wetter. He put a hand on her back and brought her toward him. “You might not like the answer.”
“Probably not.” She leaned close. “Tell me anyway.”
“You are a container of magic,” he said. “You always have been for me. You shimmer with power.” He shook his head right before he dropped a lingering kiss near her jaw. “I want that magic. Your magic. All the kin get a hard-on for a witch like you. I’m no exception.”
My Demon Warlord Page 10
