Naughty Karma: Karmic Consultants, Book 7 (25 page)

His ribcage contracted hard around the empty space where his heart should be. That was about as close to a declaration as either one of them were likely to get. “None of your people will be hurt either,” he answered.

“I know.”

He heard
I trust you
lurking beneath the words and wanted to tell her not to, wanted to warn her off, but she was crawling toward him, throwing a leg over his to straddle his lap, and he forgot why it even mattered as Karma sucked his lower lip into her mouth. She rocked forward until her pelvis connected with the swelling length of his cock. He bracketed her hips, taking control of the rhythm there, even as he let her lead in the kiss. Her taste was potent with urgency and the lingering flavors of the red. He heard his heart thudding faster, louder. The wrongness of it—outside his body as magic pushed the blood in a steady flow through his veins—made him stand abruptly, lifting Karma with him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, breaking the kiss to lean back to meet his eyes.

Damn he was going to miss that look. The slumberous decadence. Dazed and heated. Knowing that it was only for him. He carried her through to the bedroom, away from the telltale heart. He laid her on the bed, quickly divesting her of her clothes and shedding his own, until they were both naked save the charm between her breasts. His charm. Then he lowered himself over her and there was nothing but skin and heat between them. He called up the magic that was so much a part of him and lay it over both of them like a blanket.

Karma hissed out a ragged breath and he moved to catch the sound in his mouth, feeding on every gasp and moan. He slipped his fingers between their bodies, finding her slick and hot and ready for him. Her warm hands were there, guiding his cock to her entrance, and then he was thrusting into a tight fist of heat, his entire being focused on the clasp of her body. He feathered his magic over her skin, pulsed his power into her body, watching her aura for the erratic flickers when he hit a sweet spot then bending his will to hitting it again and again until she was teetering on the edge of orgasm. He laced their fingers together, pinning her hands on either side of her head, and drove up high into her, flooding her with his power. She screamed her pleasure, arching beneath him, and something unlocked. Suddenly her power was there, meeting his, jetting through him in a blinding blast. He roared, pounding into her as he came, her essence surrounding him, consuming him, saturating every cell with a thousand tiny starbursts. Then the second wave hit and he was coming again, blind to everything but the supernova of her.

He collapsed on top of her, wrung out, and listened to the rapid, uneven rhythm of her breath.

“Prometheus,” she whispered. “I—”

He didn’t want to hear what she was going to say next. He couldn’t. He cut her off with a kiss, quick and light, then murmured, “Shh. Get some sleep.”

She was exhausted. It was a small thing to smooth the edges of her energy until she fell into a dream.

He hoped it was a good one. A future where everything was bright and shiny and worked out perfectly. A future he didn’t have much hope of seeing.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The Perils of Lying to an Oracle

“Now, about my power...”

The maenad laughed, a girlish ripple of flirtation and heat. “Aren’t we greedy, my pet?” The devil stopped laughing abruptly when he conjured a medallion into his hand. Her eyes gleamed with avarice. “Now, where did you get that?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not really.” She shook her head, laughing again. “Clever Prometheus. He always knows how to get what he wants, doesn’t he? But what if I don’t want your pretty medallion? What would you give me in order to keep your power then?”

“I have other relics. What is it you want? Name it.”

“I told you already.” The devil turned her head and he followed her gaze.

Karma stood frozen, mouth open as if in mid-shout as Prometheus and Deuma bartered in a moment stolen out of time. Rodriguez lay on the ground nearby, unconscious and bleeding from the head. Across the room, Brittany sprawled in an unnatural position at the base of a wall. But it was Karma he saw.

“She’s worth three of you,” Deuma purred. “Give her to me and you can keep your powers.”

He hesitated for only a moment. “It would have to be all of them. Forever. No more deadlines and renegotiations.”

“Oh, I love a man who barters.” Deuma giggled. “Are you sure you don’t want to come work for me? No? Fine, then. For that I’ll take the medallion too.”

“Done.” The word echoed like a gong, harsh with the finality of a deal struck.

Karma lurched upright in bed, a hard gasp shredding her throat. He’d sold her. He’d sold her just so he could keep his power. She flicked on the lamp, needing the comfort of light, the protection of it.

“Karma?” a dark voice asked groggily. “What did you see?”

Prometheus reached for her and she shied away from his hand, dragging the sheet with her to cover her nakedness. “You bastard.”

His sleepy gaze sharpened and shuttered. “I take it you saw me.”

“You gave me to her. You sold me to Deuma in exchange for your power.”

Eyes narrowed, he sat up in the bed. “And Ciara drowned and Brittany was killed in a car accident. None of it happened. Not all of your visions come true.” But his voice was too harsh, too defensive.
God, he would really do it.

“The intent was there.” Clothes. She needed clothes. She struggled out of the bed, dragging the sheet with her and backing toward the closet. “Ciara didn’t want to drown, Brittany didn’t want to crash her car, but you
wanted
to trade me for your power. Not your life. Your precious, fucking power.”

“This is ridiculous.” He flung back the covers and stalked after her, naked and not giving a shit about it. “I couldn’t trade you to Deuma if I wanted to. I don’t own you.”

“That didn’t seem to make a difference.” She slammed the door to the closet, tugging on underwear, slacks and a stretchy knit top in record time. She’d wanted distance, but as soon as the door shut between them she wanted to yank it open again, the better to scream at him. He did
not
get to slink off without talking to her about this.

Dressed, she flung open the door and he was standing there, his arms braced on either side of the jamb, waiting for her. He’d pulled on his jeans, but hadn’t bothered with a shirt. “It was a
dream
.”

Karma shoved past him, ducking under his arm. “She said you
already knew
what you could give her to keep your power.” She spun to face him, arms akimbo. “Was that a dream too?”

He groaned and rubbed a hand down his face. “She said something about you that made me think she would be interested in a trade, but I haven’t done anything about it.”

“No? You haven’t told me about it either. Don’t you think I have the right to know if a demonspawn bitch wants my soul?”

“I’m not sure it was your soul she was after. She seemed mostly concerned with your natural power. Whoever your father was, he left quite a calling card.”

“Don’t you dare try to change the subject.”

“I’m not changing shit. You’re the one who is so fucking scared to look at who you really are that you’d rather bottle up your God-given talents and make yourself crazy than learn how to put them to some use.”

“So that makes it okay to sell me to the highest bidder?”

“You don’t want your power anyway!”

“That doesn’t give you the right to give it away!”

“I didn’t! Goddamn it, Karma, I may have done a lot of shady shit in my life, but I refuse to be tried and hanged for something I didn’t even do. It was a fucking dream.”

“They aren’t just dreams and you know it.”

“Yeah, well, they aren’t fucking infallible either. Maybe you didn’t hear what you thought you heard.”

“I heard plenty.” And it had rocked her to her foundation. She’d trusted him. She hadn’t realized exactly how much until that word, that deal, had shattered it all, leaving shards of broken trust lodged in her veins. What more had he been keeping from her? Who was he, really?

“I think you heard what you wanted to hear.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault? Can you honestly tell me that you would never make that deal? That you wouldn’t even consider it?”

He hesitated. The bastard actually hesitated.

“Oh fuck you.” Suddenly the charm he’d made her seemed to burn against her skin. She couldn’t get it off fast enough. The thong tangled in her hair.

“Karma…I wouldn’t leave you with her. If I was powerless, I wouldn’t be able to come for you—”

“Shut up.” She threw the charm and it hit him in the chest—which was a shame since she’d been aiming for his face. How could she have been so stupid? “What was on that? Some kind of gullibility mojo?”

“No. The charm is clean—just a few extra focus and protection wards.”

There was enough hesitation in the denial to make her snarl, “Oh God,
what
?”

He grimaced. “The vodka.”

“You spiked the vodka. Of course you did. Because getting me drunk wasn’t good enough.”

“I only added a few little spells to make you relax and trust me. And I drank it too. I made myself just as vulnerable as you were.”

She really had been a prize idiot. He’d been playing her from the word go and she’d known that, but she’d let herself forget it. She’d been totally sucked in. She’d started to actually care for him and the entire time he’d been conning her, stringing her along in an attempt to keep his superhuman powers. She’d been so sure they were more than that, but he hadn’t changed at all.

She’d actually started to think she was falling in love with him. Last night she’d almost said the words without even meaning to. But all along she’d been falling for a man who’d only ever cared about himself. And she’d known that. She’d been so acutely conscious of his faults. But he’d been so
honest
about who he was; somehow his sincerity about being a liar had allowed him to slip right past her defenses and into her heart—where the bastard had no business being.

“Karma.”

His voice was soft, but she clung to her anger, because if she let it go, she knew the tears would come and Karma Cox didn’t cry. “Take your heart,” she snapped.

“Karma, we can talk about this. Don’t be rash—”

“I thought you liked rash.” He opened his mouth and she held up a hand to stop him. “Never mind. I don’t want to hear another word from you. I’m not reneging on our deal. Though it would serve you right if I did.” Still, she found she couldn’t—and not because of the binding he’d placed on her that first night at his shop. She didn’t want him dead. Even though she probably ought to be ready to dance on his grave, her stomach still roiled at the thought of anything happening to the asshole. “Rodriguez will summon this devil bitch and I will be on hand to make sure you don’t try to hijack my exorcist’s soul, but beyond that, we’re done. Carry your heart upstairs and wait up there. I can’t look at you right now.”

She half-expected pleading, but his expression closed down tight, anger and something darker and much more sinister taking up residence in his eyes. “Fine. We were about done anyway, weren’t we?”

Her heart stuttered. He wasn’t talking about the argument or their deal. It was
them
, the idea of any sort of a relationship between them.
We were about done anyway
…

He grabbed the crate without another word and disappeared up the elevator, taking his heart and leaving her alone in the suddenly echoingly empty expanse of her apartment.

She slumped against the couch, pressing a fist to her abdomen. Why did it burn like this? Why was it so hard to think past the massive sense of betrayal hazing her thoughts? What had changed really? She’d known they wouldn’t last. So why did hearing him say it feel like swallowing acid?

Karma closed her eyes and went through her mental exercises, needing them for the first time in a week. When she had her center again, she straightened and smoothed her clothing. It would all be over in a few hours. If she could get through this, she wouldn’t look back.

Her early-warning instincts twitched—Rodriguez would be here in a few minutes. Not long now.

She was Unshakable Karma. It would take more than one unethical warlock to break her. Head held high, she strode to the elevator. Business as usual. Nothing more. And when business was over, she could let that hollow ache in her gut expand to consume her if she wanted, but not now. Now she was the ice queen again and nothing could touch her. Not even him.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ice Melt

Prometheus was no stranger to fucking up, but usually when he fucked up this royally he’d actually
done
something.

Though he wasn’t entirely blameless. He hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with Karma and he had entertained the thought, more than once, of trading her unwanted abilities for his own—though never quite so coarsely as simply selling her to Deuma and never without her consent. Had she really seen a likely future? Or were her subconscious doubts about him directing her toward highly unlikely variants that painted him in an ugly light?

Either way he probably hadn’t helped the situation by keeping her ignorant of his own plans. He wasn’t even sure why he’d lied—if they were classifying omissions as lies, which Karma certainly did. He’d kept waiting for the right moment to tell her about his master plan to have it all, waiting for her to be invested enough, to care enough. Waiting for some sign that she would never turn on him as she had this morning.