A little.
* * *
Following the service, the house filled up with people who came to offer their respects.
Dave hadn’t been able to attend the funeral, of course, though Kurt had offered to take him anyway. The tiger turned him down, reasoning the public was understandably twitchy around Ferals right now.
He made up for it as the usual throng of volunteers surrounded him. Though Dave seemed his usual joking, laughing self, Kurt knew it was an act. Tigers couldn’t cry, but there was grief in the droop of his whiskers and the set of his ears, and his tail lay still on the floor without its usual energetic flips and twitches.
“There you are.” Sawyer walked up to Kurt, as he stood next to Genevieve. The detective looked tired, as if he hadn’t slept in days -- and he probably hadn’t. Still, he wore a suit and tie and looked freshly shaved, and his grip as he shook Kurt’s hand was warm. “I managed to question Ford before the FBI took him away from me. He admitted they planned to lure you into the arena, but you showed up before they had a chance. Bastard said they figured even if he lost the fight with you, the spell would still go off.”
“Asshole.” He shook his head, then met Sawyer’s gaze. “I’m so sorry about your officers. I wish we could have prevented it.”
The cop shook his head. “There was no way you could have known. They killed our guys fast and silently -- took them only about five minutes -- right before they headed to the arena. Ford said they figured they had only fifteen or twenty minutes at most before dispatch would realize the deputies hadn’t checked in and send someone to investigate. Just to make sure, Indigo cast a spell to block cell transmission to keep you from calling out.”
“So that’s why I couldn’t get through to you,” Gen said. “I wondered about that at the time, but I figured we had to check the arena anyway.”
“Good thing you did.” The grim look in his eyes lightened a little. “You three saved a hell of a lot of lives last night. Bad as it is now, it could have been much, much worse if not for you.”
Feeling uncomfortable, Kurt shrugged. “Thanks, but I came a little too close to blowing it all to hell myself.”
“But you didn’t. You’re a hero, son, and I can’t tell you how delighted I am. Not least because Ford is so pissed about it. That’s the whole reason they staged that attack on the town square, by the way. They’d hoped to kill you, but even if they didn’t, the witch added that spell trap as much to destroy your reputation as to kill Gen. They’d been worried that you’d be painted as the hero of the piece, and neither one of them could stand that idea.”
“What’s going to happen to Ford?” Gen asked.
Sawyer shrugged. “The Feds have charged him with five-hundred-plus counts of attempted magical assassination, plus fourteen counts of magical terrorism resulting in death. They’ve got him in a warded cell that will keep him from being able to manifest his bear. If he’s convicted, he’ll be executed.”
“Good. Fry him.”
“We’re going to try.” The FBI Arcanist Katilia Doran stepped out of the press of people. Elegant and tall, she wore a simple black sheath dress and pearls. “I wanted to tell you again how sorry I am about your father. The more I hear about him, the more I regret I didn’t get a chance to meet him.”
Kurt smiled. “So am I. He would have liked you. He always appreciated people with a low BQ.” When she lifted a brow, he explained, “Bullshit quotient.”
“Ahh.” She smiled, then hesitated a moment before sighing. “I realize this is probably not a particularly good time, but I’m giving a press conference and I want you to be there. You’re the hero of the hour.” Her gaze flicked to Genevieve, and then Dave, who had wandered over to listen. “You and Ms. Reyes. And Dave, of course.”
Kurt frowned. “I have no interest in…”
“Yeah, I realize it probably goes against the grain. But we need you front and center, reminding people that though there are evil assholes who are Talents, most of us aren’t like that.”
Genevieve slanted her a look. “Especially given NTRA.”
“Exactly.”
“So even though we saved their lives, those ungrateful bastards are still going to try to strip us of our rights?”
The FBI agent shrugged. “I’m sure they do feel grateful, but the president made the registration act the centerpiece of his campaign. He’s not going to forget it just because you almost died trying to keep him alive.”
Dave’s tail whipped. “He’ll say it proves his point that Talents need to be tracked like sex offenders.”
“Probably. But if we play this right, we can make them all look like ungrateful bigots.”
“Which is pretty much exactly what they are,” Genevieve said tartly.
Kurt sighed. “Fine. I’ll do the press conference.”
“Good. I’d like to hold it in front of the arena with you, Genevieve, that Feral cop…”
“Jake Nolan,” Kurt supplied.
“Yeah, Jake.” She looked down at the tiger. “… And Dave and all his many bandages.”
Chapter Nineteen
The next day, Kurt found himself enduring a press conference after Gen and Agent Doran took down the arena spell.
He listened, uncomfortable, as Agent Doran described the fight and lauded their heroism in terms that glowed brighter than Stoli’s manifestation.
The reporter from CNN held up a hand. When Doran called on him, he directed the question to Kurt. “The Humanists are trying to push through NTRA, which will force Talents like you to register. Why did you risk your life to save people who seem to view you as an enemy?”
Kurt had been expecting the question, so he didn’t let it throw him. “I’m an Arcane Corps combat veteran. I took an oath to defend the United States Constitution. Whether I agree with the President’s politics or not is beside the point. I’m not going to let five hundred people be murdered if I can help it.”
Another reporter directed a question to Gen. “Ms. Reyes, you’re not a vet, yet you risked your life too. That bear could have ripped you apart, and the female terrorist attempted to cut your throat.”
Genevieve shrugged. “I just did what generations of Talents have done. We could’ve stayed in the shadows during World War II, let the Nazis and their Talents win. Instead we came out of the closet and fought for our country. Just as we have in every war the US has ever fought, even when you didn’t know we were there.”
One of the bloggers glowered. “But doesn’t this prove the Humanists are right? How long are we going to let these… people run around killing normal Americans?”
Gen’s cool mask didn’t even crack. “Yes, Indigo and Virgil Ford were terrorists. And yes, they were Talents. But that doesn’t make us all criminals. There are at least three million Talents in this country. If even a tenth of us were killers, you’d have even more death and destruction than these two managed to commit. Instead we do everything in our power to keep the public safe. But if the Humanists make us second-class citizens, you’ll be providing mentally ill fanatics with a justification for their crimes. Indigo Ford cited NTRA as the reason they decided to do all this…”
“So are you saying you think that was justified?”
“No, what I’m saying is the vast majority of serial killers, sex offenders, terrorists, and murderers are men, but we haven’t made men second-class citizens. This is no different.”
“But one man can’t kill as many people as a witch!” the blogger spat.
In the depths of Kurt’s mind, Stoli growled. Kurt took a slow, deep breath, working to contain his growing anger.
Genevieve’s aura brushed against his like the stroke of a hand over his skin. He looked down at her and smiled in gratitude. He hadn’t really been in danger of losing control, but that one touch made it easier to focus.
Looking up into his eyes, Gen smiled, and he smiled back. They’d get through this together.
“By the way,” Dave said into the jumble of questions, his mag
ic giving his voice a booming amplification that startled everyone into silence. “If there are any melded Feral tigresses out there, I enjoy long swims, playing Call of Duty, and turkey dinners.” He gave them an enormous, toothy grin. “And I’m looking for love. Call me.” He held up one paw against an ear as if miming a phone.
The reporters laughed and the ugly tension eased.
Kurt blew out a breath. Trust Dave and his wicked sense of humor to save the day again.
* * *
After the press conference, Dave asked Gen to come to his tree house and work a healing now. “I’d like to get to know you a little better,” he told her, giving her a tiger sort of smile. “Since it seems we’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”
“Oh, God. I can almost hear the rimshots now.” She gathered her supplies and headed over to the tree house with him. Jake, newly released from the hospital, joined them. The two ragged on each other until she finally had to tell them to shut up so she could concentrate on the spell.
Fortunately, the vet had done a good job on Dave’s wounds, so the casting wasn’t as difficult as it could have been. Gen felt pretty good when she headed back to the house as the sun began to set.
As she approached the house, she saw a plume of smoke roll up from the back yard, accompanied by the mouthwatering scent of roasting meat. Kurt must have something on the grill.
She walked around to the back yard and opened the gate in the privacy fence.
He looked up from the big brick outdoor grill. “How do you like your steaks?”
“Medium rare. What’s all this?” A sweet, nervous anticipation tensed her muscles as she noticed he’d again spread the BFS blanket they’d used before on the grass, piled with an inviting collection of pillows.
Off to one side, the picnic table stood covered in a white tablecloth and gently steaming plates of food. Champagne chilled in a bucket near a spray of bright orange blooms.
Walking over to the grill, she found a pair of thick ribeyes smoking over the coals. Kurt flipped them with a graceful gesture of one big hand.
The light dawned. “I wondered why Dave wanted me to do the healing at his house.”
“Dave always was a great wingman.” He looked up from the steaks and grinned, but there was a shadow of something in the back of his eyes. Nervousness? “I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done. I’d probably be in jail and a lot of people would be dead if not for you.”
Gen leaned in for a kiss, opening her lips to sink into it, drinking his mouth, savoring the taste. She caught his lower lip between her teeth and gave it a gentle tug before easing back. “I’d say the rescue was mutual.”
Male heat flared in his eyes, and his smile turned hungry. He lifted a hand and cupped her cheek. “Either way, thank you.”
His hand felt warm and calloused against her skin as power flared in his eyes. For a dizzy moment, it seemed she was falling into that golden glow.
Something brushed against her aura, and she heard a rumble in the depths of her mind: Stoli. There was something distinctly satisfied in the sound of the tiger’s voice, almost a purr.
Genevieve’s heart began to hammer in her chest, and she had to work to steady her voice. “If you don’t turn those steaks, they’re going to end up charred.”
“Damn!” He jerked around and flipped them over.
A ripe silence fell between them, sensual as the fragrant smoke. Standing so close, she could feel the magic of his aura, thrumming with his desire -- and a trace of uncharacteristic nerves.
She dropped her gaze, and her eyes widened as they fell on his zipper. Yep, he’s definitely turned on. That was a very formidable erection forming a thick ridge behind the fabric of his jeans. Her nipples tightened as her pussy clenched.
Gen’s eyes flicked up to meet the bright glow of his. He jerked his eyes away and flipped the steaks neatly onto a plate. “Come on. Let’s find out if I can cook.”
Genevieve followed him. “Somehow, the way you put that doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence.”
“Don’t worry, I started learning my way around the kitchen when I was six. Mom wasn’t exactly Betty Crocker, so it was that or starve.”
Genevieve sat down on one bench, eying the china, silver and crystal champagne flutes. Besides grilled ears of corn and fresh vegetables, there was a broccoli casserole, macaroni salad, and a gorgeous strawberry cake she knew volunteers had dropped off that afternoon. An arrangement of fiery orange blooms with dark speckles stood in a crystal vase.
She smiled up at him. “Tiger lilies? Cute.”
“I thought so.” He picked up a bottle of champagne, aiming it away from them both. He sent the cork flying with a flick of his thumb as easily as if she could’ve popped the tab on the can of Coke. The champagne foamed up, and he poured it skillfully into the tall crystal glasses.
Genevieve eyed the label. She’d drunk more than her share of expensive booze in the course of rubbing elbows with the rich, and her eyebrows flew up. “That is not cheap champagne.”
“You’re worth it.” He raised the glass to her. “To the bravest woman I’ve ever known.”
Genevieve’s cheeks heated. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
The champagne was crisp and light. When she lowered her glass, she found Kurt watching her, obviously waiting for the verdict. “It’s delicious. But then it better be, for what you paid for it.”
He shrugged. “It’s a celebration.”
She gestured toward the pallet with her fork. “I think it’s a little bit more than that. Are we planning to cast another spell?”
“The first one is still there, right? It’s permanent.” The way his voice dropped on that last word gave it a lot of significance. More lightly, he continued. “I thought we’d recharge your magical batteries again, what with healing Dave and breaking that spell.”
She gave him a wicked little grin. “Well, I’d never turn down a… charge.”
He laughed.
The steak was every bit as good as it looked. He’d marinated it in some combination of wine and spices. The corn had a perfect crunch and the potatoes steamed, soft and delicious.
At last she sat back with a sated moan. “If I eat any more, I’m going to be too full to recharge.” She grinned wickedly on the last word.
Kurt’s eyes flashed gold. “I guess we’ll save the cake for later.” Rising, he moved around the table to take her hand and tug her to her feet and into his arms.
The kiss was deep and slow and tasted of champagne and hickory smoke. She sighed into his mouth. At last he drew back to give her a little smile. Taking her hand, he led her toward the pallet.
Kurt turned to face her, grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it off. Genevieve’s eyes widened. He reached for the snap of his jeans then paused. “Unless I’m jumping the gun?”
“No,” she said hoarsely. “You’re not.”
She watched, mouth dry, as he stripped off his jeans and toed out of his boots. Deliberately, he folded his clothing and put it aside, muscles flexing with every move.
It made for a hell of a nice view -- the width of his shoulders, the power of his arms, the length of those long, hard thighs and powerful calves. Some well-built men tended to look short-legged, but his were in proportion to his considerable height.
His thick shaft bobbed over tight, firm balls fuzzed with soft hair. She watched, heart hammering with anticipation.
This is going to be good.
Kurt straightened and faced her, stepping in close. His fingers found the buttons of her blouse, flicking them open one by one. Genevieve felt acutely conscious of the swell of her breasts as he revealed them. She’d worn a pretty bra, all peach lace and satin from Victoria’s Secret.
She’d never been more thankful to have expensive taste in underwear.
“I promise not to destroy this one.” Kurt flashed her a boy’s smile, all mischief and amusement. Then he looked down at her breasts, and suddenly there was nothing of the
boy in that smile at all.
Genevieve lowered her arms and shrugged her shirt off her shoulders, letting it fall in a soft pile at her feet. But before she could pick up the shirt and fold it, he stepped full against her. His cock nudged her belly, and she licked her lips, staring up into his eyes. Again, she had that sense of Stoli sharing his gaze.
His mouth swooped to cover hers in another of those impossibly sweet kisses. She rose on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back, drinking in the taste and heat of his mouth.
For a moment she felt the brush of fur against her ass. Stoli again, playing with her aura. It was disconcerting, but she found she wasn’t at all frightened. She’d stopped being afraid of Stoli after they’d melded in the arena.
Kurt pulled away, his fingers brushing up over her shoulders. Satin slid over her skin as he pulled her bra off. She hadn’t even noticed him unfastening it in the depths of that kiss. “You are good.”
“Why, thank you, ma’am.” He flashed the smile again. His gaze flicked to the tips of her breasts, drawn into peaks. There was no humor at all in his gaze, only raw need.
Bending, he cupped her soft flesh in both hands. His mouth covered her nipple in a hot delicious kiss, deep and suckling, that made her breath catch as he lifted her off her feet.
Kurt held her easily, tugging the other nipple as he nibbled ever so gently. She shivered at the hot sensation, shivered again as his magic surged against hers. She could feel the heat of his need, could sense how much he loved her.
Genevieve hooked her legs around his waist as his tongue tip drew wet designs over her breasts. Teeth closed ever so gently over the tip, tightening in a tiny bite, then tugging backward.
He released her for another licking swirl, feeding at her lazily, until her eyes rolled back at the stark pleasure. She wrapped her arms around his head and rested her chin on top of his head.
His tongue licked and swirled over her nipple, each sensation as delicate as a brush of a butterfly’s wing, yet sweetly piercing and intense. Her breathing roughened as she dreamily stroked his brawny shoulders.
Arcane Kiss (Talents Book 1) Page 25