Chaos Bites (31 page)

If I did this I could save them all. Theoretically.

I swallowed. I could do it. I’d just close my eyes and think of—

“England,” I whispered as Mait turned onto Toulouse Street.

I’d been willing to give Sawyer up, had believed I was doing the right thing. However, I wasn’t willing to let his daughter go, or Jimmy, either. That was too much to ask. If I had to sacrifice my body, my mind, my life—so be it.

Having made the decision, I was suddenly calm. Which gave me a near hyper-focus. Everything around me receded—the music, the lights, the people—except for Mait, who seemed to be shrouded in a silvery gray sheen that set him apart from everyone else.

I needed to draw him away somewhere quiet and secluded where I could first seduce him, then kill him.

Yeah, I
was
one of the good guys.

After toying with several versions of what to do next—buy a disguise, accost him in a dark alley, lie—I realized the truth. All I had to do was let him catch me. He was a Nephilim. Nature would take its course.

I didn’t try to be quiet, didn’t really try to hide, and a few blocks from St. Louis Number One I no longer saw Mait ahead of me. As I passed a thin alleyway, a dark hand reached out and yanked me in.

“What do you think you are doin’?” Mait’s emerald eyes shone despite the lack of light between the buildings.

“Following you.”

“And why would that be? You and your friend already took all that I had.”

Not all,
I thought.

“He wasn’t my friend,” I said. “He was a double-crossing snake.” Since he was, my words rang true.

Mait tilted his head, and the shadow of the moon cast over his face. He was really quite beautiful. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

Mait’s lips curved. My answering smile froze when he slammed me against the nearest wall hard enough to rattle my teeth and a few more of my brains.

“Perhaps you were lookin’ for dis?” He held Jimmy’s charmed dagger against my throat. No wonder we hadn’t been able to find it. “You meant to kill me.”

I met his eyes and didn’t answer. Why lie?

His teeth flashed. He lifted the flat of the blade and slid it first down my cheek then along the curve of my neck. “Afraid?” he whispered.

Not of the knife.

“You made a promise.” The weapon continued its path, over my right breast, down my ribs, my hips, then across my stomach and back up the other side. “One you did not keep. But we will remedy dat.”

He stepped in close, his body brushing mine. His
remedy
poked me in the stomach. I tried to jerk away, and ended up smacking my tailbone against the bricks.

I hissed in a pained breath, and Mait laughed. “Do you think you might cry? I like it when dey cry.” He leaned over and licked my cheekbone. His breath smelled like Bourbon Street, or maybe that was just bourbon—and rot. “I
will
have you.”

Since that was what I’d planned all along, I should have been happier about it. However, I was starting to catch a vibe. Mait liked to force women. He liked to hurt them, to make them cry. I could use that.

“No,” I said, my voice breaking right on cue. “Let me go.”

I fought, but my struggles only rubbed us together harder and faster, which was how he began to breathe, and so did I.

His free hand captured my wrists, drawing them above my head, pressing them against the wall, which only settled our bodies into more perfect alignment. He lowered his head, nuzzling my neck, breathing in as if to memorize my scent forever, then took a fold of my skin into his mouth and worried it between tongue and teeth until pain and pleasure meshed.

“You will like it,” he whispered. “Dis I promise.”

I wiggled again, as if trying to slip away. In truth, I was becoming aroused. I didn’t want to, but I needed to. To steal his magic required more than the act, it required fulfillment. To absorb the power, I needed to open myself, accept him, and—

Hell, basically, I needed to come.

My breath caught as he slit my shirt down the front. Moist, muggy air swirled against exposed skin. Placing the tip of the knife at the center of my chest, he flicked his wrist and cut my bra in half so that my breasts spilled free.

Mait muttered something in another language, his gaze captured by the copper-tipped globes. The weapon clattered to the ground; my arms tumbled to my sides as he filled both hands with soft, round flesh.

He was rough. He no doubt needed to be. He was one of those who had to hurt, perhaps be hurt, but he couldn’t hurt me.

He teased me—gentle to sharp, tongue to teeth. Grabbing my hand, he pressed it to his erection. I jumped. When had he released his pants so that they pooled at his ankles?

Locking our fingers together, he curled his palm around mine so that I held the head between my thumb and forefinger, then he slid back and forth, back and forth. From the depth of his moans, he was close to coming.

I shook my head, tried to focus. I couldn’t jack him off. There’d be nothing left for me. However, if I told him what I wanted, he probably wouldn’t give it to me. Nephilim were like that. I’d have to beg for the exact opposite.

“Go ahead,” I urged, moving my hand faster. “You know that you want to.”

His motions slowed, his moans stopped, and his eyes snapped open. “Not yet,” he growled, and ripped at the fastenings of my jeans.

From that moment on things moved quickly, which was fine by me. The sooner the better. I wanted this done.

I tried to close my eyes and think of England. Problem was, I needed to come, and England just didn’t do it for me.

I didn’t want to think of Jimmy or Sawyer. I couldn’t bear to pair what we’d had with the memory of Mait. Even though I’d chosen this, even though I  was doing it for them, tonight wasn’t a night to remember.

Instead, I let my mind go blank, let my body take over. If he hadn’t been a half-demon stranger I’d followed into a dark alley, I might consider Mait decent in bed. Against the wall, not so much. Still, when I didn’t think, when I forced myself only to feel, things happened.

Mait flexed and released, flexed and released, sliding in and out, filling me, emptying me. I lost track of time. The guy had the stamina of a racehorse.

Minutes, hours, days later, he pressed his forehead to mine. “I cannot until you do.”

I’d met guys like him before—in handcuffs.

While most rapists wanted to assuage their pain by causing someone else’s, vent their anger, show their dominance—some liked to pretend it wasn’t rape by making the woman participate. Some couldn’t get off unless they managed to “satisfy” the object of their twisted affection.

I hated those guys. The women who were assaulted by them were more traumatized than the ones attacked by any of the others. Maybe because the asshole made them believe they must have wanted it, wanted him, otherwise why would they have climaxed?

Mait licked the tip of his thumb and, holding my gaze, slipped his hand between us and unerringly found the right place. He continued to stare into my eyes as he rolled his thumb in a circle, all the while sliding in and out, faster and faster until—

I came.

My body convulsed, tightening around him. His breath caught; his eyes went blank. In them I saw myself—my face stark, blue eyes wide, framed against the dark stones of the building like the sacrifice I’d made of myself.

I couldn’t watch. As I continued to quiver in reaction, I shut my eyes against the night and as the orgasm drained away, lightning flashed from a clear sky, leaving behind an ozone-scented wind. The flare of power as it passed between us was like boiling oil in the blood—painful but also exhilarating. Magic so often was.

I pushed aside thoughts of what I’d done—time enough for those later, or not, I hoped—and focused on what I needed to do. My eyes opened, though they very badly wanted to stay closed, just as Mait released me.

My legs slid down; my feet touched the ground. I bit my lip until it bled, refusing to crumble. When he bent to grab his pants, I slid my hand into the fanny pack that had twisted around my waist almost to my back, and removed the charmed knife.

As he straightened, I jabbed the point toward his eye. I hadn’t even cleared the protection of my thigh when he grabbed my wrist and twisted. I was strong, damn near invincible, but I couldn’t keep my fingers clenched against that move, and the knife clattered to the pavement.

At first, I panicked, thinking he was too close to fight, especially with my pants around my ankles. Then my free hand flicked, and he flew, smashing into the opposite wall before landing on the ground. Since he was a Nephilim, he got right back up.

I wasted no time, grabbing my jeans, searching for the weapon. It was gone.

“Lookin’ for dis?” Mait held my knife in one hand and the dagger Jimmy had bought in the other. “One of a sosye’s powers is that things come when summoned.”

“Really?” I put out my hand, and Jimmy’s dagger flew across the short distance between us. I snatched it out of the air. “Like that?”

He rattled off several French-sounding curses, ending with “Empath.” He spat that like a curse, too.

If I hadn’t already planned to kill him, I’d have to now. The sexual empathy was a secret I liked to keep from the dark side.

Reaching out, I tried to take the other knife, too, but he was ready for me and held on tight. I wished momentarily I didn’t have to fight shirtless, but since I didn’t have much choice, and maybe it would distract him, I tightened my hold on the dagger and moved forward.

I’d never been in a knife fight. Close encounters were more Jimmy’s style. Sanducci was king of the sharp shiny things. I was better with my hands, my feet, a club, a gun. Not that I couldn’t
use
a knife. How hard was it? Pointy end went into the bad guy. But when we both had knives, and we both had superpowers, things got dicey.

He cut me; I cut him. I healed my wounds; he healed his. We could have kept at it for days. Then I aimed a fancy roundhouse kick toward his chest, and Mait saw my tattoo.

“You’re a—” My heel met his sternum and he flew. “Skinwalker,” he said right before he hit the wall, cracked his head, landed on the ground, and the knife in his hand slid across the pavement. “You’ll never die.”

“Never say never,” I muttered. “But certainly not today.”

I landed on his chest, the tip of my dagger speeding toward his left eye.

That thing I have about eyes?

Turns out, I didn’t have it anymore.

CHAPTER 34

“What the hell you doin’ back there?”

The deserted street was deserted no longer.

“Mind your bizness,” I shouted, doing my best impression of a crack addict. As a big-city cop, I’d known plenty of them.

The guy moved on, grumbling; I needed to move on, too. Except the body wasn’t ashes yet, and I didn’t dare leave until it was.

Burning a body isn’t as easy as you’d think. Luckily I had supernatural fire literally at my—

“Talon-tips,” I said.

An instant later I was a phoenix and could shoot fire in a steady, blistering stream until the only sound in the alley was the crackling of the flames.

When nothing remained of Mait, former god of the night demons, but ashes, I beat my huge, multicolored wings until every last particle had swirled away. Then I clasped the dagger in one talon, my knife in the other, and flew into the fading night.

Dawn threatened when I circled the hotel then landed on the terrace. As I’d done before, I went straight to the bathroom and took a shower. It didn’t help.

I might be able to wash the scent of Nephilim from my skin, but I wasn’t ever going to be able to wash the memory of what I’d done from my brain.

And there was going to be payback. I just knew it.

So far I didn’t feel evil. That had to be good, right? Maybe I’d get lucky and absorb only Mait’s magic without the accompanying vice.

Yeah, that would happen.

My phone was ringing when I came out. I snatched it up, glancing at the caller ID even as I brought it to my ear.

Luther
.

“Did you find her?”

“You done made your choice,” Ruthie said.

I blinked. Why was Ruthie
calling
me?

Then everything connected, and I sat down heavily on the bed. Ruthie was talking through Luther, because I’d just embraced evil again.

“Crap,” I muttered.

“Uh-huh.”

“I had to,” I began. “I saw—” I paused, not wanting to tell her what I’d seen, as if putting the horror into words might just make it happen, if it hadn’t already. “Something,” I finished.

“Figured that or you wouldn’t have done what you done. I told you’d there’d be consequences.”

“I’ll pay whatever I have to.”

“Not much choice ‘bout that,” Ruthie said, then gave a deep sorry sigh. “What you done, Lizbeth, I fear for you.”

I feared for me, too, but I feared more for Jimmy and Faith. I’d do it again if I had to. I just hoped like hell I never had to.

“You go on back to the Dinetah.”

“What? No. I have to—”

“Sawyer ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

She was trying to keep me from raising him. She had to know that, eventually, I would. I had to.

“The boy is frightened. Summer’s losin’ her mind. You go on back, find out what’s what.”

I opened my mouth to argue; what came out was, “Yes, ma’am.”

I caught the first plane to Albuquerque, rented a Bronco, and drove to Summer’s place. At heart it was an Irish cottage, and there were times the terrain around it appeared like the rolling emerald hills of that land. There were other times when the cottage became a castle, complete with a moat.

The gargoyles remained regardless of what shape the house took. Their job was to guard against evil. So what had they been doing when Faith disappeared? I planned to find out.

As I drove up, the cottage shimmered, shifted, became a ranch house with a wraparound wooden porch. Several horses whinnied from the corral. On closer inspection, I was certain they’d be revealed as half horse and half something else—gargoyles on alert.