by D. D. Miers
I shrugged. “Probably. But then again, I’m not the one who walked into a bar where I wasn’t welcome. How did you get through the wards?”
“Bastian has his tricks—I have mine.”
“He’s going to find out, you know?”
“I’m not worried.”
“You should be.”
Dante sat forward. “He should be.”
I practically suffocated on the surge of magic enveloping the air around us. Raw power crackled and popped like embers on a wild blaze, feverish and hot to the touch. When he dropped the power display, I looked around, expecting everyone in the room to be just as thrown off as I was, but they weren’t. In fact, no one seemed to have noticed Dante’s presence at all.
Finally, it dawned on me. “No one else can see you, can they?”
He didn’t answer me, he simply smiled and leaned back into his chair. “Are you going to get me a drink?”
I wiped at my sweat-covered face, “Seriously?”
“I said I wasn’t here to kill you.”
He had a point. I picked up an empty tumbler, swallowing down all the things I wanted to scream at him. “So, why are you here then?”
"You know why.”
"I didn't steal anything," I murmured, glancing over my shoulder as I filled his glass with bottom-shelf whiskey and a huge handful of ice. "I told you."
"Stop," he said flatly. "No more lies.”
I handed him the tumbler, and he frowned at my obvious attempt to destroy his drink. “Have you given any thought to how you're going to steal it back? Because, if you haven't, now might be a good time."
"Oh?" My throat itched, drier than the desert wind. "And why is that?"
Dante reached into his pocket, and I instinctively took a step back. But he just produced a little black rectangle. A phone.
Then he held up the screen for me to see. I scrunched my nose and leaned closer. Violet and Jade, bound and gagged.
“How? Why?” I shook my head, trying to keep my shit together. "What did you do to them? Where are they?"
"Safe, and they’ll remain that way, as long as we come to an understanding."
I would’ve slammed a fist into his jaw if I didn’t care about drawing attention to myself. “You’re a real asshole, you know that? Gagging two innocent women.”
“The only reason they’re gagged is because they can’t hold their tongues. Kind of like their big sister.”
“They have nothing to do with this.”
"As I’ve told you, they’re not in danger. Not yet at least. As long as you listen, my men will keep them safe. Safer than your Bastian ever could."
"He's not . . ." Mine, I almost said, but what a ridiculous thing to fixate on right now.
Dante tucked the phone back into his pocket. The image of my kidnapped sisters would be burned into my mind's eye until the end of time, so it didn't really matter. Although I did want to smash the thing, out of principle.
My whole mind and body raged with indignation, anger, shame, fear, and the lust for revenge.
But through it all, the pull never stopped.
The connection. Dammit. How could it still be so strong?
“What understanding do we need to come to?” I knew that to go against Bastian was a risk, but right now, Dante had my sisters, so he made the rules.
He took a sip. “You know what I want. I need your help getting it.”
“You realize that you’re asking me to trade one bad situation for another, right? If you don’t end me, Bastian will.”
“Bastian doesn’t need to know.”
“How? Wo— “
“Ivy?” Porter stood to my left, brows furrowed as he looked from me to the corner barstool. Clearly, he couldn’t see Dante either. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, of course.” I grabbed the towel and wiped at an imaginary spot.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m just thinking aloud.” I laughed. “Sorry if that was weird.”
He didn’t seem convinced of my sanity, but he nodded his head, grabbed a case off the floor, and headed for the storeroom.
Anger boiled within me, reaching a tipping point that had me flinging the towel against the bar the moment Porter was out of sight. It only upset me more that the lightweight fabric hadn’t hit with a resounding thud.
“How about you go fuck yourself.” It wasn’t a request, though I knew from the smug curl of Dante’s lips he wasn’t about to give me what I’d wanted.
I stepped into the back office, my well-intentioned move to separate myself from him ceasing the moment I heard the click of his steps on my heels.
“Did I not say it loud enough?” I spun, my jaw nearly cracking with how rough my teeth grounded together.
He drew closer, heat rolling off him in droves.
“I believe,” he mocked, “you said to go fuck myself. But it would be far more fun to—”
I aimed square for his jaw and swung. My fist carried with it all the tension and unbidden attraction welled up inside of me. One hit would free me, make me forget everything this man did to me.
Dante was too quick and too skilled. My fist caught in the curl of his fingers, his jaw left irritably untouched as he used my own throw for leverage and nearly yanked me off my feet. He spun me, and my back collided against his chest. The heat of his breath brushed my neck like a small blanket of hot, delicious smoke.
Fire and bourbon.
I needed an escape. I flung my elbow back, slamming hard into his gut. A rush of air whooshed from him, fluttering my hair. I twisted under his grip, but as I turned around my back hit the wall, and I had nowhere to go.
He rushed at me, his forearm slamming against my upper chest. I was pinned entirely between the wall and the weight of him. Anger burned from my eyes, but I knew when I looked up into the smoky mirror of his own, we had both lost.
His lips crashed over mine with vengeance, staking their claim with every sweeping press of his tongue that begged for entrance. I hated him, and I wanted him, and the volatile mix had me burying my fingers roughly into the thick of his hair as my lips parted in response.
His rough hands swept down my body, their heated touch drinking in my every curve until they halted on the pull of my hips. It was there, he tugged me closer, sending an exhale of utter lust slipping from my lips into the open of his mouth.
Not a single protest left me as his fingers dug into my hips and lifted me from the ground. I couldn’t protest, not when he was the oxygen and I the flame.
My legs flung around him, clinging with an all-consuming need to be closer. His lips pulled away, their trailing graze paused on the hollow of my neck. A hiss of a breath slipped from between my teeth as I clung to him harder and tasted the remnants of him in a quick sweep of my lips.
He slammed me down on Porter’s desk.
Notebooks and pens jammed uncomfortably into my back, but none of that mattered as Dante’s hands ran back up my form. They dragged over the curve of my chest taking with them the responsive arch of my back that only begged him closer into the catch of my legs.
His hands may have been on me, all over me, but I needed more.
My fingers curled into the collar of his shirt and yanked him back against me in a crushing kiss that belied any semblance of control I’d had. He settled atop me, his weight alone enough to shallow my breath. The heady, husky scent of him enveloped me. I couldn’t breathe it in enough times.
I caught his lower lip between my teeth in a firm tug. His hips shifted, leaving me desiring far more than an anchor to hold.
This entire situation was insane, but I needed him inside of me.
When I adjusted to get a better angle, something jabbed uncomfortably into my inner thigh. I tried to ignore it under the fervor of Dante’s lips, but it continued to press awkwardly.
Suddenly, I realized what it was. Dante’s damn phone filled with images of my sisters bound and gagged.
Yup. I’m a total and utter head case. Ready to s
crew the man who had threatened my life and currently had my sister.
My senses returned, and I shoved at him. “Get off of me,” I snapped, breathless.
Dante froze, caught the seriousness in my gaze, and extracted himself from me.
I loathed just how much I desired to pull him back. I couldn’t make eye contact with him as I pointed toward the door.
“Just go.” I sat upright, my eyes focused on his boots.
“Ivy . . . I’m—”
“No. We’re not talking about it. Just go.”
He retreated to the door, then stopped. He rubbed a hand over his neck and cursed before he turned back to me. “Look, what I said earlier still stands. Bastian doesn’t need to know you’re doing this for me.”
“I’m not doing anything for you. Anything I do is for my sisters.”
His jaw ticked. “You know what I meant.”
“How could you possibly think that Bastian won’t find out? He knows everything. I’m sure he knows that my sisters are gone already.”
Dante stepped forward. “No. He doesn’t.”
“How?”
“It’s taken care of. As far as Bastian knows, the girls are still tucked safely inside the ghoul’s basement. Right now, that’s all you need to know. But if you want to end all of this, you’ll find me—and you’ll do it before Bastian returns.”
He moved closer until he stood in front of me, his legs brushing mine against the desk. "Thanks for the drink, sweetheart.” He took a twenty out of his wallet and dropped it onto my lap. “Think about what I said."
Gods, he still smelled incredible. Needing to keep my shit together, I reached for my last line of defense—sarcasm. "Can I have your business card?” Knowing him, the title on it would read: Badass Warrior.
He smiled and a dimple formed in his cheek.
Stupid handsome face.
"I have a feeling you'll find me when you're ready."
I don't know how long I sat there, staring at the door after he’d left. I was an emotional clusterfuck. Needy, unsatisfied, angry, embarrassed, and totally confused. What the hell had just happened? Did I really almost have sex with my sisters’ kidnapper? Gods, I was a thousand times more jacked up than I’d ever thought possible.
I didn't have much time to ponder my questionable sanity before Lila stormed in, like a tempest in a teacup.
"I need to talk to you. Now!"
I don’t know whether it was Dante’s latest reveal, our almost sex, or if I’d reached my max of emotionally taxing crap, but I didn't bother protesting. Instead I followed her outside.
"Where the hell are they?" she almost shrieked, as soon as we hit the parking lot.
"Keep it down. We don't need the whole damn town knowing our business."
"I don't care who hears." She grabbed at my bicep, her fingernails digging into my skin. "Do you understand what you've done, Ivy? Do you understand what could happen to them? They could die because of you!"
Tears stung at the corners of my eyes, and I willed them not to fall. Only Lila could make me feel like this, and I hated myself for it. Freaking mothers. They could cure you—or kill you—with a single sentence.
"What do you care now?” I snapped back. “You’ve never taken care of them, of us. In my opinion, it’s none of your business.”
"Bastian won't tell me what happened." She twisted her hands anxiously. "Nobody will tell me what happened. Just that the girls are under protection, and I can’t see them.”
To be honest, I’d never seen her like this. Since when did she start worrying about us, or them, or anyone else, for that matter?
Don’t let her manipulate you, Ivy. This is what she does.
"You're pretty good at playing the worried mother, but where were you when they needed dinner? When they woke up from a nightmare at two am?" It took all my fortitude to hold back the years of rage. "I was the one who took care of them, Lila. Just me. Nobody else. Certainly not you. So, stop pretending like you care now."
Lila's whole body quivered. "If I'd known you were going to use it to play the martyr," she snarled, "I never would've let you care for your sisters, who you supposedly love so much. I had no idea it was such a burden for you."
"I was a kid, too! Or, at least, I would've been if you ever gave me the chance!"
Lila took in a sharp breath. "I never claimed to be the perfect mother," she said finally. "But I don't want to see my daughters get hurt. Is that so impossible for you to wrap your selfish head around?"
"I'm doing everything I can."
"Well, then let me help.”
Okay, now this had to be a joke.
“Who are these men? What do they want? I know Bastian sent you on some secret errand. Can you get them what they want and undo this whole mess?"
"I'm trying," I repeated. "But it’s complicated. He wants something that I can’t give him. Something I took from him.”
Don’t ask me why I chose to explain myself. Like I’ve said, I’m all jacked up.
"So, give it back," Lila said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. "Steal it. You can do that. Use your powers. Get Bastian in such a state that he doesn't know his own name anymore. I know you can do it.”
"You're awfully eager to pimp me out," I snapped. "I'm not entirely convinced it would work."
"Understand this. If anything happens to your sisters, I will never, ever, forgive you."
Funny. That was basically the same threat I’d given Bastian, except I’d also promised to kill him.
I couldn't hold it back anymore. "It’s not my fault!" I shrieked, pushing her back from me. To my surprise, she didn't react or even try to hold her ground. She stumbled back instead, letting most of her weight fall against the exposed brick of the bar's outside walls.
I realized she was crying and stood there, breathing hard. I didn't know what else to do.
Finally, she spoke. "I know I failed more often than not. But I did try, Ivy. You have to understand. I wanted to give you all a better life. Bastian offered that."
"A better life?" I echoed, in disbelief. "You gave us to a stranger. You let him basically kill us and bring us back as freaks.” I shook now. “Don’t you dare lie about your reasons. You did what you did for you and no one else.”
She looked up at me, mascara streaking down her face. "Yes, I did it for me . . . and for you. Maybe you’ll never believe me, but it’s the truth. This world is horrid and painful and shitty.” She took a deep breath in. “Bastian offered the chance to be better, do better, have better.”
Holy hell. She really did believe her own bullshit.
"You honestly thought we'd be better off as pawns in some mad Fae scientist's experiments?"
"What would you rather have? Living in a one-bedroom trailer with an alcoholic and no future? Those were our only options, Ivy. I gave you and your sisters something most people would kill for. Magic. Actual magic. You can wrap the whole world around your little finger, and you've only ever seen it as a curse. All you can do is complain. You were never going to have the normal life you wanted. A golden retriever. A house with a white picket fence. PTA meetings. This was our way out, Ivy."
I took a deep breath. My whole life, I'd been trying to understand how and why my mother put us through all this bullshit, and I was finally starting to get it. She idolized the Fae. To her, magic of any kind—even as indentured servants—was better than a mundane life without it.
Not the apology I’d hoped for, but at least she somewhat acknowledged her fuck up.
"Look, I'm going to figure this out. I'm going to get them back. Safe. No matter what. Just give me time."
I went back inside without another glance in her direction.
I waited through the end of my shift for Bastian’s imp to show up. Two more hours had passed and the imp he claimed was ‘in his territory’ hadn’t appeared. I didn’t know whether he’d gotten wind that Bastiaan was looking for him, or if he’d been smart enough to hide himself, but whatever the reason, I was
grateful that I had nothing to report back to Basitan.
Instead, I gathered my keys and headed straight for Dante to put an end to all of this.
Chapter 13
Dante
Two hours after my visit to Porter’s, Ivy’s magic reached out and summoned my soul. I hated to admit how good the sensation was, like a long, sensual caress against my skin. The fact that I’d almost screwed her on her boss’ desk didn’t minimize the effect she had on me. It only magnified my aching desire for this woman.
I shook it off and made my way away from the cave. Ivy’s sisters sat deep inside, guarded by Blaze, Damon, and Brax. Kylo stood sentinel outside.
“Need backup?” he asked following me a few steps down the rocky hillside.
I shook my head. “No.” This time, I held the advantage.
Twenty-minutes later, she stood at the edge of our campsite, arms wrapped about her waist, as her raven hair blew with the tepid evening breeze. I’d noticed the action before. It was her tell. Even with a cocky brow raised, uncertainty plagued her.
“You’re a dick.”
Not what I expected her to say, but an interesting start. “Only when I’m required to be.”
“You wanted to talk.” She kicked the dirt. “So, talk.”
She waited several minutes, expecting me to answer, but I remained silent. I wanted to make her uneasy. I took the moment to study her in again. Her face remained flushed and damp from the heat, reminding me of the way she looked lying across Porter’s desk. I was a lost man.
She exhaled, impatience growing as the minutes ticked on. “I want to see my sisters.”
She’d barely looked me in the eyes. Christ, was she blushing? I didn’t move from the rock resting against my back. “First, we talk, then if I like what you have to say, you can see them.”
“No. Because my offer’s null if they aren’t okay.” She said.
Fuck, everything was a chance to barter for her. And I loved—and hated it—when she argued with me.
“No.”
Her beautiful dark eyes flashed wide. “No?”
“I’m not negotiating on your terms anymore, sweetheart. You’re going to have to bite your tongue, put your ego aside, . . .” I waved a hand through the air, “. . . whatever you want to call it.”
