My Immortal Assassin (19 page)

There were no niceties between them. This wasn’t a moment for sweet words or slow caresses. He was caught in the raw heat of her need for him. She shook her arms and her shirt and bra fell to the floor and while he was getting a riveting eyeful of her naked torso, she reached for the waist of her jeans. With his weight on one elbow, he helped her get them off, but mostly he was touching her and looking his fill.

Her body was sleek and lush all at the same time. She’d shaved her pubic hair at the sides, nothing extreme, just a trim neatly done. She was more slender than his usual taste in women, but she wasn’t merely skinny. Her body was lean and muscled, her breasts lovely, her skin pale, nipples pale brown, more than enough to fill his cupped palms.

He put her naked back to the mattress. While he covered one breast with his mouth and sucked, his hands were busy everywhere else. He trailed his mouth down the midline of her body to that ridiculous barbell through her navel and took the thing in his mouth with gratifying results. She squirmed under his touch, and let out a gasp.

“God, Durian. That feels good.” She buried her fingers in his hair and arched toward him while she brought one of his hands back to her breast. “More.”

Oh, yes.

He threw a thigh over her which was when they both came to the realization that he still had on his shirt. She put a hand to his cheek and said, smiling impishly, “You have on too many clothes.”

He froze.

He’d forgotten.

Gray’s hands slid underneath his shirt, pushing up. He resisted until she let out a frustrated cry and got her hands far enough up that she felt his scar. Their eyes met. Hers cautious, wondering. And his? He could only imagine what she saw in his eyes.

If the scar repulsed her, then there was nothing he could do or would do about that. When she pulled up his shirt again he ducked his head and let her drag it off him. She didn’t say anything for long enough that he thought he had his answer.

And a bitter one it was. He cut off her contact with him.

“No,” she said. “Don’t do that.” She sat up and, eyes on his chest, set her palm to him. He didn’t move.

He knew what she saw. A still-healing wound ran from the top of his sternum to just above his diaphragm in an irregular line. The scarring there twisted through and faded into, out of and across the interior edges where his skin still burned deep crimson. From her face, he surmised she understood what she was looking at.

“You were mageheld?”

He took command of himself. Buried himself far from anyone. Far from her. “Yes.”

“And this mage—”

He ought to be dead. He shouldn’t have lived once he’d been cut open. When he spoke, this voice came from far, far away. “Not Christophe. Álvaro Magellan.”

“—he tried to kill you.” She touched his chest and glanced at his face. “The way Christophe killed Tigran.”

“Yes.” He closed his eyes. His memories were not pleasant ones, and though he didn’t want her to pick up any part of them, she did. “Nikodemus and his witch, Carson, prevented that.”

She cradled the side of his face. “No wonder you’re loyal to him.”

He shouldn’t let her see what had been done to him. “After Magellan died that night, I was unlucky. Another mage, Rasmus Kessler, took control of me.” He leaned away from her touch, but she followed him, touching, and he wanted that from her and knew he would never recover if she rejected him. “Later, another fiend and his witch severed me. Xia and Alexandrine.” He cast around for his shirt and grabbed it, except she was faster. She snatched the shirt and threw it as far as she could.

He watched her, eyebrows raised in question.

“This matters to me, Durian,” she said. “But not the way you seem to think.” She touched his chest and followed him when he flinched away from her. Her fingertip slipped along the edges of his still-healing wound. “This means you understand what happened to me. What it was like for me.”

The tightness in his chest eased.

“This wasn’t long ago, was it?” She touched him gently.

“Longer than you think. It is healing slowly. But,” he said because this was not the time for anything but plain truth, “not so long ago.”

She pressed her mouth to one side of that twisting scar then moved to his nipple. The tip of her tongue flicked over him, and he felt that all the way to his balls. He hadn’t been touched like that since long before Magellan. Far too long ago. The sensation was entirely pleasant. More than pleasant. She was putting him in a fair way of forgetting about all but where else she might use her tongue. He lay back, open to her in every way possible. His breath caught when she got a hand between them and found his sex. She had a way with her fingers, too. Hell. Oh, hell.

A growl rumbling in his chest, he grabbed her by the hips and pulled her underneath him. Her scent was musky with sweat and desire, her skin salty when he kissed her shoulder, the edge of her mind tinged with a darkness that echoed in him.

Durian re-established eye contact and took their desire and kicked it higher. Because he could. Because he could make this even better for them both.

She gasped, but he was running his hands up her athlete’s body, spreading her legs as the heat between them continued to build, with her magic and his cranking them both into this state of frantic desire. He kissed her there, between her legs, and she groaned and the next thing he knew he had his mouth between her legs as he worked her toward an orgasm, which was easy because he knew when she was close. She wasn’t the least shy about telling or showing him what she needed to get her there, either.

She came, with him racheting her to the point of no return. Then her release. Her giving in to her body. Gray untangled her fingers from his hair and slid from underneath him. Once again he ended up on his back with her straddling him.

“I want you inside me.” She threw her head back when he levered himself up to kiss the tip of her breast. Her nipple contracted in his mouth. “Jesus,” she breathed. “That’s good. Do that more.”

He grabbed her right wrist and brought her arm to his mouth and then he touched the traceries with his tongue and perhaps nipped at her skin. The magic so close to the surface of her skin set off a buzz in his head that made him open to her wider than he had to anyone else. Even Nikodemus. Made sense, that they so easily reached that kind of closeness. She was his sworn fiend. Not that he cared much about anything but where this was headed.

Her breath hissed in, and he didn’t care if it was because of his mouth on her arm or because of the tactile contact with her magic. The sizzle had them both holding their breath. They were right back where they’d been before his scar. He slid a finger along her arm and then did the same at the tracery at her temple. The anticipation of being inside her was turning him inside out. And she knew it. They both knew it. She smiled at him, dared and invited him to touch her more.

More.

“Come on,” she whispered. “It’s time.”

Her voice was low and smokey and she was in close and at the light brush of her fingers along his penis, he was out of control. He didn’t object when she guided him into her. One thrust. His or hers?

Her body was ready for him. Hot and soft and tight. He put her on her back, his body over hers, and pushed farther inside her and then he bit her again until there was blood he could lick away, to taste and savor and, there was that faint shivering of the magekind about her, and hell, yes. Their connection pulled on them both and he didn’t do anything to stop it. He knew what she wanted. He’d seen it. Felt it.

She came apart again. He wasn’t far from finishing himself, but they were belly to belly and he was driving inside her.

The skin down his back quivered and that was new for him, too. She wouldn’t be the first human woman he’d taken in his other form, but the last time he’d been this close to an unintended change during sex, the rules had been different. In those days there hadn’t been any. There were rules now. Even as far gone as he was, he knew he had neither requested nor obtained permission to have sex with her in his altered form.

The sound he made wasn’t human. At all. He concentrated on keeping his human shape while he thrust into her body, wanting more and more and more of her, and she arched against him and bit him while he felt the convulsions of his orgasm begin in his balls and a tightening in his low spine, and he stopped thinking about anything but the woman beneath him.

CHAPTER 24

Two days later. Café Demonde, downtown San Francisco

G
ray resisted the urge to stand up when Leonidas walked in. She hadn’t been sure the mage would actually show. Now that he was here, with his magic setting off a tickle of recognition in her, she was nervous about the meeting. After some discussion, she and Durian had agreed that though Durian would not be far, she would meet Leonidas alone at first. He might watch his words more closely when speaking in front of Nikodemus’s assassin. The location had been Durian’s suggestion since a café full of humans would force Leonidas to behave.

The mage wore a suit similar to the one he’d worn the night they found him outside the house on Broadway. Black this time instead of gray with a metallic green tie and another stark white shirt. Shiny black shoes. Even this near the financial district where so many of the men wore suits despite the trend to casual, Leonidas stood out as a splendidly dressed male in his prime. She reminded herself that his apparent youth came at a terrible price.

He walked straight toward her. As of course he would. A mage would know what she was even before he saw her. Leonidas acknowledged her with a nod and a smile. “May I get you something?”

She lifted her coffee. “I’m fine.”

The wait for him to get to the barista gave her time to assess him and the number of eyes on him. There were many. The café was filled with the lunchtime crowd, people who’d come down from the high-rises; lawyers, financiers, executives, and their support staff. Durian was right. She was safe here. There were too many normal people around for Leonidas to consider trying anything. When he had his drink, he brought it to her table and sat on the chair opposite her.

“Thanks for coming,” she said. “And for leaving your magehelds outside.”

“Gray.” He glanced over his shoulder to where his magehelds were clearly visible through the plate glass window. They were waiting because they had been ordered to and had no choice but to comply. “A promise is a promise, after all.”

She sipped her macchiato. The espresso was hitting her hard. She hadn’t had coffee this strong in weeks. She liked the edge. He was handsome, no denying that, but she preferred Durian’s looks to his.

He’d ordered straight espresso, and he proceeded to empty three packets of sugar into his demitasse. “A pity, in my opinion. Someone with your unique gifts—” he lifted a hand heavenward, his fingers pinched together before a quick release, “—a kiss from the gods.”

Her heart contracted, but she held Leonidas’s eye. “Is that how you see it? Because I’ll tell you, what Christophe did to me wasn’t a gift.”

“My apologies.” When she didn’t reply, he said, “I had hoped that you and I would not meet as enemies.”

“We’re not friends.”

He nodded acknowledgment of that. “If I was not prepared to come to you as a friend would, I would not have accepted your invitation.”

“So you say. But mages lie all the time.”

He looked at her from under his lashes while he stirred his coffee. “It must be very useful to Durian to have a witch under his control.”

Gray curled her hands around the handleless bowl the café used to serve its coffee. “You think this was his idea?”

He placed his spoon on the table, aligning it so the handle was perfectly vertical. “No. But I am aware of the synergies that can result when a fiend of power and one of the magekind are bound.” His gaze flicked over her, and she didn’t like the sexual appraisal. “Durian would want that.”

She took another sip of her coffee and thought about getting another one to keep the caffeine buzz going. “Maybe you have him all wrong.”

He sat back, holding his demitasse. “Do I?”

“Yeah, you do.”

The physical appraisal of her started up again. “I presume Durian is having sex with you.”

“Not your business.”

His eyes were intent on her. “But you understand—”

“Listen up.” She leaned over the table, angry beyond words. “I choose.” She tapped her chest. “Me. My decision and only my decision about who I have sex with and whether we do it straight or kinky or upside down. My decision whether I want to get pregnant and stay that way, and that’s only if Durian agrees he wants to be a father.”

“I’m sure there are other—”

“Don’t even go there, mage.” She lowered her voice. “If I do have sex with Durian like that, not that it’s any of your goddamned business, there won’t be a mage sitting around thinking he’s got a ready-made slave on the way.” Her hands clenched into fists. “Christophe tried to take that choice away from me. A mage. Durian, on the other hand, won’t force me one way or the other.”

She felt him probe her. Even his slight push at her brought back the panic of the last eighteen months of her life. Her hand shot out and she grabbed his wrist, pinning his hand to the table at the same time she blocked him. She had to work at not snarling at him. “Not without my permission.”

He flushed. “I apologize.”

“But you’re not sorry.”

He smiled and for a moment he looked just like the young man she’d first taken him for. It seemed like a hundred years ago now. “Forgive me, then.”

“You know what? Durian knows he hasn’t done anything to me that I didn’t agree to from the start. That’s more than I can say for you.” She grabbed his espresso, lifted it in a mock toast, and downed it in one swallow. The empty cup clinked against the saucer. “How’s it feel?”

He leaned back and tapped his fingers on the table. “Would you care for another?”

She dug a crumpled five from her pocket and dropped it on the table.

“Allow me,” the mage said, leaving her money where it was. “It’s the least I can do.”

Several women watched him walk back to the line and order again. She wondered why Durian didn’t hate Leonidas the way he did other magekind. From what she’d seen so far, he wasn’t any different. He returned with two more espressos, straight up. She watched him put sugars in his with the same fastidious attention as before.

“What the hell are you after, Leonidas? Why are you all worked up about me? Was that talk about a deal with Nikodemus bullshit while you really get in tight with Christophe? Because I can tell you right now, I won’t let any harm come to Durian. Or Nikodemus.”

He sipped his espresso. “I admire your loyalty to the warlord and his assassin.”

Gray rolled her eyes. “You think I don’t know what he is?”

He put down his demitasse. “I’ve known him and known of him for longer than you’ve been alive. He’s dangerous.” He held her gaze. “As I’m sure you know.”

“And you’re not?”

“I promise you I am.” He leaned back in his chair, one hand on the table, the other on his lap. His ruby cufflink glittered in its gold setting. “You were not born magekind.”

“No.”

“And yet you have both kinds of magic. That would be fascinating even if you hadn’t taken both. To my knowledge, that’s never been done. By anyone.”

She pushed away her coffee. “Nikodemus does something about his lawbreakers.” She looked at Leonidas straight on. “What are you doing about mages like Christophe?”

He put down his demitasse and spread his hands. “We have oaths of our own, you know. We protect humans. It’s our purpose.” He swept a hand around the café. “We keep them safe. If demonkind are present and do no harm, I see no reason to kill them. There can be a balance.”

“Sounds like heresy to me.”

“I mean it.”

She cocked her chin in the direction of Leonidas’s magehelds. “You think you’re not killing them right now?”

“They aren’t dead.”

“You forget that I know what it’s like for them.”

“You’re human.” He stopped with his demitasse halfway to his mouth. “Not one of them. You belong with your own kind.”

“I lived like they did.” She touched her demitasse. “Christophe didn’t give his magehelds a choice about what happened to me.” She turned over her arm and examined the traceries there. They didn’t creep her out anymore. “Considering how much you magekind like to talk about protecting humans, it wasn’t one of you who got me away from Christophe. A mageheld died to save my life.”

Leonidas gestured. “And made you into this.”

“If he hadn’t, I’d be dead.” She leaned toward him. “Christophe did this to me. His orders. I’m free because of Tigran.” She sat back. She was angry, not for herself but for the kin. “How about you tell me what holding slaves and killing them when you feel like you need a few extra years has to do with protecting humans?”

Leonidas lapsed into a silence worthy of Durian. “We need our power. We need to be strong.”

“You are so full of it. You don’t need their magic to be strong. You’re killing them so you can live longer than you deserve.”

People at neighboring tables were giving them worried glances. Gray looked at the closest to them and gave a reassuring grin. “We’re rehearsing for a play.”

One of the women at the table laughed, but she was all over Leonidas. “I was waiting for one of you to pull a knife.”

“No knives here.” Gray returned her attention to Leonidas. “Your line now.”

He stared into his demitasse for a while. As she watched, she could see the play of emotions over his face. Guilt was one of them. “I am here, far from my home, because the warlord promises another way.”

“You don’t need me for that.”

Leonidas looked up and frowned. “What if I could augment your magic?”

“Give up your magehelds and I’ll let you try.”

“I’m not that curious.”

She picked up her espresso and downed the whole thing. A familiar shiver ran down her spine, and she glanced over to see Durian outside. He walked past the magehelds and into the café.

Leonidas reacted a moment later with a twitch of his hands. If he hadn’t been holding his coffee, she might not have noticed. “Your master has arrived.”

She snorted. Durian wore black again, and damn, he looked good. His pullover fit close enough that there was just no hiding the perfection of his body. “Hardly.”

Durian strolled to their table and, taking an empty chair from another table, sat down catercorner to Gray. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Gray.” He nodded to the mage. “Leonidas.”

The mage nodded in return. “A timely appearance.”

“Is it?”

Leonidas stood up. “I was just leaving.”

“I’m sorry I missed you.” He sat next to Gray and looped an arm around her shoulder.

“Tell Nikodemus I wish to discuss an alliance. Have him call me if he’d like to discuss the particulars.”

Gray looked up at him, astonished. “What made you change your mind?”

“We cannot go on as we are.” He nodded at Durian. “What world do we live in when the demonkind have begun to protect humans from the magekind? The time for change is long past.” The mage took a business card from his pocket and slid it across the table to her. “If you need my help, I will do what I can. It is the least I can do.”

“Thanks.” She took the card and stuck it in her pocket.

“I look forward to hearing from Nikodemus, Assassin.”

“I’ll let him know.”

They watched Leonidas walk out. Through the window, he said nothing to his magehelds as he passed them. But they followed him all the same. Because they had no choice.

A few minutes later, she grabbed her jacket and walked out. Durian followed. They didn’t speak until they were on Kearney Street and long out of sight of the café.

“We can continue to walk, if you wish.”

Gray came to a halt. “Do you think he meant that?”

“I don’t know.” He pulled her into his arms, and she stayed against him when he moved them out of the way of most of the pedestrian traffic. He stroked her hair. “I hope that he does. And yet, if he does, there will be chaos.”

“We need to get my sister away from Christophe.”

“I think,” he said slowly, “the sooner we do that, the better.”