Malakai (5 page)

"I've had a renewed streak of inspiration.
Let me show you."

They wandered into the shed, lit with bare
bulbs hanging from hooks at the ceiling on long extension cords.
Kai showed his father the blade.

He and his dad were close, much closer than
he and his mom. Which he'd always thought weird because his mom was
wolf, and she'd shown him the ropes at puberty. How to get control
of his werewolf had been a challenge. They'd gone for runs in the
forest and spent entire nights loping about. But ever since his
sister, Kambriel had left to 'explore her life' in Paris, his
mother, Blu, had been cold toward him.

"It's—do you hear something?" Creed asked as
he moved the blade before him.

"It's the blade, singing," Kai said, as if a
singing blade were common and something he heard every day.

"Interesting." Creed handed him the blade
reverently, placing it across his forearm as any warrior would do.
As he had surely done many times before, since his father had been
born in the 1100's and had served many kings with blade in hand. "I
know you didn't get your creativity from me."

"You did teach me the art of sword
fight."

"A dying skill, but still valued by the
paranormal breeds. Your allergies any better?"

"I still get itchy around iron, but the more
I work on this blade, the less so. It's as if the metal is taking
on a new form, unlike iron."

"It is an interesting metal." Creed tapped
the blade. "Almost iridescent."

Yes, but if Kai mentioned his faery theory
Creed would have a conniption fit. "So how's Mom? I think she's
upset with me over Kam's leaving."

"No, Kai, she's not. It's hard for her with
Kam gone. She knows your sister needs to go out and discover the
world, but she'd prefer her at home. Forever."

Kai smirked. "It was tough on Mom the day I
moved out. I can't imagine what it must be like to lose a
daughter."

"Kambriel is not lost, just…seeking. You talk
to her at all?"

"Nope." Though he wished she would call him
once in a while to check in. He'd tried her cell phone half a dozen
times over the past few months. Had she shut if off? "I only know
she's in Paris. She's fine, dad. She needs the space. We've been a
tight knit family. Give her some breathing room."

Creed nodded, but his eyes didn't convince
Kai of his agreement. "You're keeping busy, I see. I hope you don't
spend all your time in this dark little shed. How's your love
life?"

Kai placed the blade on the rough-hewn work
table behind him, hiding a smile with a tilt of his head.

"That good, eh?" His father could read him
without seeing his face. "Is she werewolf or vampire?"

Hell. Wasn't like he and Rissa were an item,
so he couldn't claim she was his. And he shouldn't. Even though
parts of him felt like he already had.

"Just a new lover," he said, hoping his
father would drop it. "Someone I met in town."

"I thought you'd gone through all the women
in town?"

His father had been a Casanova in his
heydays, too. Only that had been sometime in the medieval ages, or
maybe it had been the decadent eighteenth century.

"Must be a vampire," Creed decided. "Not a
lot of female werewolves in this neck of the woods who aren't
already attached." He glanced to Kai. "No? A wolf? Really?"

"She's uh…faery," Kai muttered under his
breath, and tossed his heavy leather work gloves to the table
behind him.

"What did you say?" He could feel his
father's rising anger at the back of his neck. There wasn't much
Creed had punished him for as a child, but the man did have a
temper about some things. "Kai? It sounded like you said she's a
faery?"

The last breed his father would ever approve
of him dating, let alone touching.

"She is, but we just met, and I've only been
with her a few times, so it's probably nothing. Although…I feel as
though she's behind my inspiration. Sort of my muse. Can you
understand that—"

Shoved against the wall, his father slammed
Kai's shoulders to the tin wall and bared his fangs. Stunned at the
fang reveal, Kai lifted his chin, but did not retaliate with an
equal show of dominance by growling. He was bigger and stronger
than Creed, but also respectful.

"Haven't you been listening to me all these
years?" Creed shoved Kai hard, and walked away, but turned back on
him. "Faeries are out of the question. You walk a wide circle
around their breed. You look away when they glance at you. You stay
away!"

"Dad, she's—"

"She's what? Pretty? Sexy? Just another fuck
in your endless cavalcade of fucks?"

Harsh words from a man he respected, but not
undeserved.

"She's different, Dad." And how could he
discount his muse?

Creed smacked his fist in a palm and shook
his head. "Don't do this, Kai. Don't be a fool."

"There's nothing to that idiotic curse. It
was made so long ago."

"Faeries never forget," Creed insisted. "A
decade in the mortal realm is mere days in Faery." He kicked the
base of the work table. "I thought you were smarter."

His father's disdain cut across his soul.
Never had Creed shown such vitriol toward him. Kai slapped a hand
over his pounding heart. "I don't know what to say. I'll…"

He wanted to see Rissa again. Needed to, as
if his life—his very art—depended on tasting her kiss once again.
But he didn't want his father's disdain.

"Tell me who she is?" Creed demanded.

"No. You'll go to her."

"Damn right I will."

"She's mine!"

Creed reared from Kai's sudden lunge. Kai
realized he'd followed that statement with a growl. Never did he
allow the animal side of him to show against his father. Had a few
nights with the tiny faery changed him so remarkably that he could
disrespect his father with such ease?

"This will kill your mother," Creed said.

"Dad, mom doesn't need to know. It was a few
nights. I don't even know where she lives."


"You called her your muse."

"I…" He never lied to his father. Lies were
for cowards. "She is. That sword was forged because of her. And I
will see her again. I have to."

"Then make it your last." Creed strode toward
the shop door and kicked it open. Sunlight burst across his face
and he reactively blocked it with a hand. "Or I will." He marched
off.

"Stupid curse," Kai muttered. "It's not real.
I'm not in love."

And he would see her again tonight, because
it felt too good to fall into Rissa's arms. So good, he'd risk
pissing off some faery who had a death wish for him.

***

Kicking off his boots by the door and
shucking off his overalls, Kai wandered naked through the kitchen.
Taking out a few items from the fridge to make a shake, he tossed
frozen fruits in a blender, along with protein powder and some
fresh spinach. Hitting the low blend button, he let it run a
minute. He didn't bother to pour the shake in a glass, drinking it
straight from the pitcher. That hit the spot. And he only spilled a
few drops down his bare chest. He swiped it off, wincing, because
his bicep was sore. Hell, he'd lost himself in work for days if
he'd not noticed how exhausted he'd become until now.

But the waning energy was worth it. It was a
marvel to him that he'd been working so steadily on the blade. It
was as if something had come over him.

"Inspiration," he said. "Gotta love her."

And thinking of his muse… After he showered
and did some yoga to stretch out his achy muscles, he'd go in
search of more inspiration.

"Rissa," he muttered, then slammed the
pitcher onto the counter with a clank.

His father's angry warning vied with his
conscience—and won. "Nope. Done with her. Off limits. Nada.
Non."

Maybe.

Dashing up the stairs, he padded into the
shower, and blasted the hot water over his body and dipped his head
into the stream. Groaning at the pleasure of it, Kai spent the next
twenty minutes thinking about sex with Rissa. Her body slicking
against his skin, her lips moving over his muscles and his
cock.

Her pretty violet eyes winked at him and her
giggle made his erection even harder. Reaching down, he
commandeered the main blade. A squeeze and he imagined it was
Rissa's hand, her hair wisping about it as she breathed hotly upon
him. His hand moved faster. Rissa's hips shifted and swayed above
him. He anticipated her sweet, hot folds encompassing him and could
feel it…the heat of her, the soft squeezing goodness as he lost
himself inside his unattainable muse.

***

It hadn't been easy locating the faery's
home. Werewolves had a crazy sense of smell, so Kai drove through
the small suburban town that edged the Twin Cities with his windows
down and his senses dialed up to eleven. Only took half an hour of
cruising to pinpoint her little white house, fronted by a froth of
white and maroon peonies.

He knocked and Rissa answered immediately.
Blessed Luna, she wore pink. The barely-there dress hugged her body
and emphasized her tiny breasts and smooth stomach and the vee at
the junction of her legs. And she wore barely-there pink sandals
sporting a jewel between her biggest and next toe. He'd not before
noticed how cute and tantalizing those precious little toes
were…

Malakai almost lost it looking at her. Right
there. Shot the wad in his pants. But he held it together, and
offered her the bouquet of pink roses he'd picked up in the flower
shop half a block away.

Rissa took them, sniffed, and tilted the
bouquet against one shoulder, granting him a come-on kittenish
snarl. "So…you want me to coo over the flowers, and beg you to fuck
me?"

Now he did groan, and eased a hand over his
erection because it strained against his loose jeans—which were no
longer loose.

"Thought so." She winked and set the flowers
on the counter, not bothering to free them from the ribbon binding
or find a vase with water to preserve them. "Come inside, big boy.
No kilt?” she commented on his blue jeans and thin sweater as he
followed her through the living room and down the hallway.

She aimed for the bedroom.

“I only play the warrior on weekends," Kai
said. "This weekend I have off."

"You're not really Irish, are you?"

"Far from it. My father is French and my
mother American."

"That accounts for your gorgeous bone
structure. You've European features. Manly and bold. Is fighting an
angry Scotsman your only job?"

Small talk? Fine. He could dig it. Man did
not survive by sex alone. Mostly.

"When not performing I’m a swordsmith.”

“Isn’t that someone who works with iron and
steel?”

Kai thought he heard her audibly shiver.
“Same things. I forge weaponry. Swords mostly, but I’ve fashioned a
few medieval maces and some scimitars.”

“I suspected you might have a crafty side.
Hmm…" Her smile fell, and Kai wondered if she might cry. What a
sudden and weird change of emotion. "Imagine. You, having all that
close contact with iron. Huh.”

Ah. Now he understood what she was thinking.
Iron was a faery's bane.

As a faery should be your bane?

Ignoring his intrusive inner voice, Kai
hooked his thumbs at his waistband. He would never force cold iron
on her to harm or persuade. That would be cruel. But he wasn't so
stupid that he wouldn't wield it against a faery if necessary.

Rissa strode to the huge window hung with
white sheers. Moonlight glowed in her hair. With a mere crook of
her finger, Kai joined her side. Her thigh pressed against his, and
he slid his hand over her leg, toying with the hem of her short
dress. "I like this color on you."

He drew a hand up higher and slid it around
until she squeezed her thighs over his fingers, stopping him from
landing the prize. "So tell me about your work," she said. "Have
you been busy lately?"

"Uh…" He'd thought that conversation over and
now sex was on the menu. But if she wanted to chat he wasn't so
much the Casanova that he couldn't cater to a woman's desire for
connection beyond skin on skin. "Actually, since I met you I've
been a demon over the forge. You're my muse, Rissa. You like that?"
He bent to kiss her jaw and licked up to her earlobe. "Mm, you
taste good, sugar cube."

"Your muse," she said on a gasp. "Sure. I,
uh…oh, Kai…"

***

It was too late to stop it. The universe had
spun their fates into motion. And she didn't want to stop the whirl
because it felt too damn good when she was with Malakai. But
continuing their relationship would challenge her heart. For the
first time since the Unseelie king had cursed her, Rissa knew she
would regret every moment of pleasure she shared with this valiant
wolf.

Malakai Saint-Pierre would, indeed, break
her. But not until she had broken him beyond repair.

A wistful shiver made Rissa rub her arms
briskly. Romance hadn’t been on her radar for years. Since Malrick
had cursed her, sex had become a necessary task. She did the deed
because she had to, and usually didn't feel any emotion when
walking away from a man's bed. Up until now, sex had been a means
to stay alive. Literally.

But things had changed. She could no longer
keep her heart out of the equation.

So why did Kai switch all her emotional
buttons to ‘on’? There had to be more to it than his good looks. He
was a sexy man, even when not kilted, bare-chested, and wielding a
sword. Eroticism wavered from him as if a pheromone. He had a way
of moving like a panther—or rather, a wolf—that screamed for all
women to turn and watch. His dark hair shone under the moonlight
with glints of blue, opposite to her natural silver-white hair. A
long face and nose, and high forehead gave him an intelligent yet
kind demeanor. And bright gray eyes always looked right at her, not
beyond or through her.