She had my full, unbroken attention.
She was not kidding. Her iceberg blue eyes were as steady as if she were looking at me through a sniper’s scope, finger on the trigger. No emotion. Just the sweet promise of death.
Would it be wrong of me to think that at that moment, she was the sexiest woman I’d ever seen?
Here’s the thing. I knew what my future would be. No matter how I cut it, death, my death, was always the card on top. I’d always figured Zayvion would be the one to pull the trigger. But I hated what it would do to him and Allie. They’d carry the guilt of my death for the rest of their life. Because they are like that.
But here, now, this woman—this gorgeous and, yes, kind woman—was a solution I hadn’t considered. I could make a deal with her, and she could make my death look like an accident. No one would carry the guilt. Not Zay, not Allie, not Terric, not my mum. No one would have to know the truth.
“Glorious, eh?” I asked.
“Unforgettable.”
“How about accidental?”
“It can be arranged.”
“So you’re offering my life—or my death—if I help you find a guy and kill him.”
“That’s the deal.”
Tempting. Dangerously so.
I leaned back, lacing my fingers together just behind the shot she’d bought me that I still hadn’t touched.
“Why can’t you kill him? I’ll buy that you might need help finding someone. It’s less likely you think I’m the one who can track him down—plenty of better trackers in this town. But what I’m really having a hard time believing is that you need help killing. Anyone.”
“He’s different.”
“How?”
She shook her head. “You agree to help, I tell you. You don’t, then I’m gone.”
I thought it over. Several things made this seem like a good idea. One: she was hot and had stirred feelings, and a need, I hadn’t had in a long, long time. Two: she had information that might keep Terric, Zay, Allie, and the rest of the Soul Complements safe. Which meant it was possible she either worked for the government or worked against them. Three: did I mention she was hot? Four: that kill-you thing she offered was a pretty sweet way to deal with my ultimate dilemma—my problem, as she called it.
It would, however, be insane to commit to a revenge that I didn’t give a damn about.
It would not, on the other hand, be the most insane thing I’d ever done.
“No,” I said.
It surprised her and she didn’t bother to cover it up. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Yes, I am.”
She pulled her hair back with both hands and let it cascade back into place. “We would have made a hell of a team,” she said.
“Undoubtedly.”
“Was it the glorious death that turned you off?”
“No. I thought that was a nice touch.”
She smiled. “Well, then. To happy endings.” She held up her drink and I picked up the shot.
Touched the edge of my glass to hers. “To endings, happy or otherwise.”
She nodded, then took a long drink.
I slammed back the whiskey, enjoying every moment of the burn. I only wished it were enough to put out the fire she’d started in me.
A slightly sweet aftertaste coated my throat. I wondered which brand she’d ordered.
“Now that business is out of the way, care to stay for a couple drinks?” I asked.
“Maybe. What do you have in mind?”
“I thought I’d unpack my boyish charms and try my hand at seducing you.”
And the smile she gave me.
It lit up her face. She was, I realized, the kind of woman who knew how to laugh. Who was probably gentle to small animals, and kind to old people. Behind her mask, she was vibrant. Alive.
I wanted that.
“First,” she said, “don’t tell a woman you’re going to try to seduce her.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s fair. Relationships are much more fun when . . .” The pub spun to the left and I braced my hand on the table edge so I didn’t slap it with my face.
“That’s not right,” I mumbled.
Dessa leaned forward. “Second, don’t accept drinks from strange women.”
“What?”
“Well, look at that,” she said. “Your boyish charms are working. I’m just all wobbly in the knees and so are you. Why don’t you come home with me, kitten?”
“Kitten?”
And before I could make any damn sense of that, she was next to me, then standing with me. Her arm was surprisingly strong around my waist, and I wanted like mad to pull her into me. But the pub was coming in and out of focus as I blinked, and the only thing that convinced me I was walking was that the place was moving past me.
“Spiked my drink,” I said.
Now we were standing outside.
“Yes, I did.”
“Naughty girl.”
She sighed. We were moving again. Around the corner. “I am sorry about this. You could have just agreed. It would have been easier.”
“You knew I wouldn’t. Otherwise why spike the shot?”
“I wasn’t sure I could be convincing enough. One thing you need to know about me, Shamus Flynn? I never give up.”
I would have told her the one thing she should know about me is I never do things the easy way, but the world was a blender of light and darkness. I didn’t know what she’d dropped in my drink, but it was not a drug or magic I was familiar with.
That worried me.
Could I use magic to get myself out of this? Sure, if I could concentrate long enough to trace the glyph of a spell.
So: no.
Could I just drain down her life?
Strangely, and really, most frighteningly of all, I couldn’t even think straight enough to do that. That drink had pushed magic—even Death magic—way out of my reach.
“Here we are,” she said. “You can just relax. Lie down. Let me take care of everything.”
“I don’t even know your last name,” I mumbled. I thought she was easing me into the back of her car. I was pretty sure I heard a car door open.
But I’d gotten that wrong too.
She’d popped the trunk. And gave me a shove down into it.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I laughed as the world spun and shook.
“No. I am completely serious about this. Deadly, even.”
She leaned above me, her lips slightly open as she adjusted something near my head. And all I could think of was I should kiss that woman.
What can I say? I like a woman who can surprise me. She’d certainly done that.
Too bad I couldn’t move.
“You should be comfortable,” she was saying. “And don’t even think about using magic. It won’t work.”
Too late. I was already thinking about it. But that was about all I was doing. Because the lumpiness I was lying on wasn’t the spare tire and crowbar. It was Void stones. As a matter of fact, the entire trunk was lined with them, completely canceling my ability to draw on magic.
The woman knew how to plan ahead. I wondered if she’d lined the top of the trunk too.
“I’d tell you to get some sleep,” she said. “But this is going to be a bumpy ride, so just try not to get a concussion.”
As the trunk slammed shut, I noted that yes indeed. The inside of the lid was lined with Void stones too.
Damn. I really should have kissed her.
Chapter 8
Here’s where I act the hero and do something smart, like call someone. Or do something brave, like kick out the trunk. Or come up with a sneaky plan, like find the biggest Void stone so I could brain the bitch.
Instead I got nauseated and unconscious. In that order.
I came to no longer in the trunk. I had no memory of walking or of her dragging me. But somehow she had managed to get me into a motel room and strap me down to a chair.
This was so not how I had imagined spending the night with her. Well, not the first night, anyway.
She was pacing. It was the
thump, thump
of her flat bootheels on the carpet that had brought me awake.
Thump, thump
, pause.
“You are a very bad girl,” I said. It came out a little ragged. Whatever she’d poisoned me with had done some damage to my throat on the way down.
“You do make me want to do bad things to you.” Her fingers drew across my shoulders and even though I was still clothed, I felt it like a lick of heat that made me shudder with need.
No fair. Focus, Flynn. She doesn’t mean
those
kinds of bad things.
“Aren’t you the sweetest?” I said. “How about you give a guy back some feeling in his hands?”
She finally walked around from behind me.
She was wearing a red satin bra and panties. And her combat boots.
And nothing else.
Well, a smile.
Holy shit. Maybe she did mean those kinds of bad things.
Please let her mean those bad things.
She turned so I could get a good look at her ass too. Lordy. Someone spent time in the gym. Or chasing after her brother’s killer. I hear revenge is a great full-body workout.
She turned back to me. With guns in her hands.
“There’s some mixed signals,” I said.
“This,” she said, “is to get your attention. How am I doing so far?” She bent at the waist so I got a good eyeful of her guns.
She pressed her hands on her hips. Had a Glock in each hand.
I wasn’t sure which guns I was supposed to be looking at.
I gave her my best Flynn smile. “I like where this is going.”
She straightened and I made an effort to pull my gaze up from her panties, her flat stomach, the birthmark just over her hipbone, the curve of breasts, and all the way up to those merciless blues. Got lost in the blues for a moment or two.
“Good,” she said. “Because I’m just getting started. Are you fully awake, Shamus?”
“How about you untie me so we can find out?”
She shook her head, walked across the room to a crappy table there, with an even crappier chair. Wood. Scuffed legs, no padding. Probably matched the one I was sitting on.
She lifted it, walked toward me.
“I’m going to try this one more time,” she said. “Talking you into seeing things my way.”
She turned the chair so that the back of it was toward me.
“I asked nice last time. This time I’m not going to ask so very nicely.” She spread her legs and straddled the chair.
Mercy.
Everything went white noise for a moment or two while I did what I could to put out the fire in my groin.
Don’t think of her mouth. Don’t think of her breasts. Don’t think of her thighs.
“...heard stories about the great Shamus Flynn,” she was saying.
“All true,” I interrupted. I had no idea what she was talking about.
“Good,” she said. “Because I heard you killed Jingo Jingo, one of the strongest Death magic users around at the fight in St. Johns. And you single-handedly devoured six professional magic users—drained them down so there weren’t even bodies to bury. Then you took on two dead Soul Complements who tried to end the world. You came out of all of that still standing and were made into the head of the magic users in Portland.”
Okay, now she was getting specific. These were things that were only known to the Authority. Maybe she’d dug through some top secret files the FBI or CIA had set up after the apocalypse to try to make sense of the whole ancient organization of secret magic users that had been operating under their noses since before they had noses.
But what she most certainly had not done was get access to this information in any easy or legal manner.
“Who do you work for again?” I asked.
“Now, now,” she said. “That wouldn’t be any fun. First you tell me a little something I want to know. Then I’ll tell you something you want.”
Her hand slipped up her thigh, stopping just short of her hip. She licked her bottom lip and smiled.
She was so playing me.
I loved it.
However, the rope she’d tied me up with was weighted down with Void stones. While that would make it harder for me to use magic, I could still get out of the ropes if I wanted to. But I didn’t want to—yet.
“Who killed your brother?” I asked.
She raised one eyebrow and leaned forward into the back of the chair. Jesus, I wanted to be that chair.
“Tell me if you’re as deadly as they say you are, Shame. Prove to me all those rumors are true. Better yet . . . show me.”
Really? That’s what she wanted to know about me? If I could kill people?
Fine.
I relaxed my hold against the darkness inside me. Let my hunger stretch out and breathe. Brought the monster front and center.
I tipped my head just a bit. Caught her gaze. And held it until her smile dropped away. Held it until she shifted her grip on the Glocks. Held it until she instinctively turned the guns on me, stood up, and stepped back.
“What I am,” I said, “is much, much worse than anything anyone has ever told you, love.”
In the next several heartbeats I learned that Dessa knew fear. And I learned how she handled it: heartbeat elevated, hands steady on the guns. Taking the time to make a decision.
Who wouldn’t shoot the monster if they had it tied up in front of them?
I braced for the bullet I knew was coming my way.
Instead she pushed the chair to one side. Knelt in front of me, then pressed up between my legs, her guns on the floor.
Oh. God.
“I think you’re lying.” And then she kissed me. Kissed me with all her body.
Every inch of me flared at that touch, burning hot and hard.
I let her kiss me, her mouth soft and hungry. And then I kissed her back, coaxing her mouth open, until she relented and let me taste her fully.
Slow. Deep. I savored the taste of her mouth—alcohol, and the sweet of oranges. Felt the low groan in her throat. She exhaled and her body melted into mine.
My hands were still tied. Her hands slid up my chest to the edge of my jaw. Her fingers drew across the stubble of my beard and then back, to knot behind my head and tug at my hair. She dragged my face closer, her fist in my hair.
My turn to groan.
We kissed, hot, wet. I couldn’t think. Didn’t want to.
Yes. God, yes.
The hunger inside me was not Death. Had nothing to do with magic. I wanted to taste every inch of her. Wanted to kiss her until she shuddered in my arms.
I tugged on the ropes. The chair creaked.