My Dangerous Pleasure

by Carolyn Jewel

  “Where to?” he asked.

  She gave him Ashlin’s Kensington address in the East Bay.

  “Rasmus lives in Berkeley,” he said while they headed for the Bay Bridge.

  “I know.”

  “This isn’t going to be Nikodemus’s territory. Technically, Nikodemus’s rules don’t apply there. Magekind can do whatever the hell they want there.”

  “What about us? Can we?”

  “You can. But not me. The kin don’t mess with humans the way we used to back in the day. If something comes up, you do what you need to. And then so will I.” With a clunk, the driver’s side window fell down into the door. Air rushed through the cab. He looked over with a smile and raised his voice. “Ah, the air conditioning is on.”

  She sank down on the seat and pulled her coat around her. “My wrist hurts.”

  “Head?” Fucking Rasmus was still messing with her.

  “The pressure’s back.” She touched her temple. “Like someone’s trying to break in.”

  “I have never wanted to waste anyone the way I want to waste Rasmus right now.”

  Traffic always sucked this time of day, so it took longer than if the daily commute wasn’t in full swing. But they made it. He found a place to park that wasn’t too far from the house. Ashlin Lau, a tiny woman of Chinese ancestry, whose hair was just starting to go gray, opened the door to Paisley’s knock. As he learned, she lived with Julia, her partner of the last thirty years. The guest of honor, Urban Drummond, famous chef and Paisley’s former boyfriend wasn’t here yet, but the television crew was.

  Iskander handed a bottle of wine to Julia and bent to give both women a European-style kiss on both cheeks. They seemed to approve. He noted with some relief that his clothes fit in with what the other guests were wearing. He and Paisley transferred her supplies to the kitchen and then, with him holding her hand, they went to say hello to the people she knew. He reminded himself to keep a lid on his habit of saying whatever came to mind. These were vanilla humans. Not only did he need to pass, he wanted them to like him. For Paisley’s sake.

  Paisley made the introductions with Ashlin or Julia doing the honors for people she didn’t know. The gray-haired man was a lawyer whose wife was a freelance food critic for the San Francisco Chronicle. Some of the people she knew from the days before she opened the bakery had new significant others, and there was also Renegade staff hired since she left the restaurant. Iskander thought he did a good job making small talk with them. He was good at passing for human.

  The guests were gathered on the flagstone patio in the back, drinking wine and sampling cheeses and a series of canapés that kept appearing from the kitchen where everyone was taking turns sending out amazing food. Pretty soon Paisley would need to go inside to prep her desserts.

  Before that happened, Urban Drummond arrived with a pretty brunette on his arm who didn’t look like she ate enough food to sustain her basic caloric needs. She was also a witch. What the hell was the guy doing here with a goddamned witch?

  Iskander took an instant dislike to Chef Urban Drummond, and it wasn’t just because he used to date Paisley or that he’d walked in here with a witch. He didn’t like the way everyone applauded like he was some fucking big deal. He didn’t like the way Urban smiled. He didn’t like the way he ogled Paisley when he thought no one would notice. And he didn’t like the way the guy obviously thought he could have any woman he wanted, including Paisley. The prick.

  “I see parking is still impossible,” Urban said after the round of applause at his entrance.

  The asshole was handsome in a hearty way that made Iskander want to drop a wrecking ball on his head. Urban walked around and pressed flesh and slapped backs like he was running for office. The whole time he kept one arm around his date’s tiny waist and his eye on the camera crew.

  Iskander walked over to Paisley and took a stuffed mushroom off a nearby salver. “Oh, that’s good,” he said. He looked over his shoulder, then back at her. “So that’s him?”

  She nodded.

  “He’s pretending he doesn’t see you yet.” Iskander moved closer and lowered his voice while he took three more stuffed mushrooms. “Is the witch a screamer?”

  “Yes.”

  She still had feelings for the guy; he could tell that from the way she was staring at him and the way her body tensed up when he looked her way. Iskander had the other humans blocked out, but he made eye contact with Urban, a second was all he needed, to survey the man’s psychic state. He didn’t make enough contact to put him afoul of Nikodemus, just enough to get a feel for the guy without breaking any rules.

  No question about it, Urban was a confident bastard. He was basking in the attention, taking it as his due. What Iskander didn’t get, which was a relief, was any sense that he was under a compulsion from the witch. Good. But he didn’t like it at all that Urban had walked in here with one of the magekind. This had Rasmus Kessler all over it.

  Paisley distracted him when she put a hand on his arm and told him she needed to go inside to get to work on her desserts. He gave a curt nod and touched her forehead. “Let me in? I’d like to be in contact even when I can’t see you.” She gave her agreement, and he made his link with her. It felt good. Right. “If you feel any magehelds, come get me, text me, call, yell, do something. I’ll probably already know.” He stroked his thumb across her forehead, viciously aware that Urban was watching him. “Just in case I’ve dropped out.”

  “I will.”

  He kissed her. Nothing over the top, just a brush of his lips over hers. When it was over, he had the satisfaction of seeing Urban acting like he hadn’t been watching the whole time. The asshole.

  Not long after Paisley went inside, servers brought out the first desserts. The cameramen set up shots of the trays as they came out. He stood under a grapevine arbor feeling jumpy about the witch and the fact that he might not know about magehelds until it was too late, but so far Urban and his witch were behaving themselves, and he wasn’t getting anything worrisome from Paisley.

  He caught the witch’s eye. Maybe he was wrong about her. Not all the magekind were murdering bastards or bitches. Maybe Rasmus hadn’t sent her. Maybe the witch was cool with his kind, notwithstanding she was a screamer. He winked at her so she’d know he knew what she was. She didn’t make nice and smile back. All right, then. Now he knew where they stood.

  Paisley came out to check the plates of tarts, and Iskander’s skin rippled. The magic came from the skinny witch. She was directing all her magical attention at Paisley. So much for thinking this would be fun.

  Ashlin Lau joined him and said, “Dear, dear Urban,” in a disgustingly fond voice as the chef worked his way in their direction.

  “Asshole,” he said under his breath.

  He didn’t realize Ashlin had heard him until she dug her elbow into his side. “Hush now, he’ll hear you.”

  He looked down. She didn’t look horrified or insulted. In fact, she was trying not to smile. “Sorry.”

  “You’re not sorry at all,” Ashlin said.

  “No.” He liked this human woman. She was comfortable with herself, and she wasn’t pissed off at him for his opinion about Chef Urban Drummond.

  “It’s true, of course,” she went on. “He’s only gotten worse over the years, but he is a genius in the kitchen. And amusing, when he wishes to be.”

  “Like that’s an excuse.” The top of Ashlin’s head barely hit the middle of his chest. He liked older women. Someone like her, if she were into men, would be a lot of fun in bed. But it was just an observation, not something he would do. Before Paisley, he would definitely have taken a shot. He didn’t like that Urban had been intimate with Paisley and obviously had fucked her over and was now wondering if he’d get some again. He was jealous of Urban for the former and pissed off at the latter, and he especially hated the guy for all the things he knew about Paisley that he didn’t. “What the hell did she ever see in him?” he said out loud.

  Ashlin ke
pt her voice low. “He was unkind to Paisley, especially at the end, I’m sorry to say. We all knew the relationship would not last. As, indeed, it did not.” She nodded in Urban’s direction, but she meant the witch. “He’s terrible to all the women he dates.”

  Urban the Asshole emoted for the camera.

  “I’m not sorry their relationship ended,” Ashlin said. “It means she’s been free to find someone who won’t treat her badly. Hmm?” Her eyebrows quirked. “Do you treat her well, young man?”

  “As well as I know how.”

  She elbowed him again. For such a little woman, she was strong. “She’s a woman worth having, Iskander.”

  He gave her a hard stare. If he said the wrong thing, she’d kick his ass.

  Ashlin rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those men who can’t make a commitment. Foolish, foolish boy.”

  “That isn’t it.” Christ. He was always two steps behind this emotional crap. He watched Urban the Cooking Jerk move on to another introduction. The witch was still plastered to his side, but she wasn’t watching Urban or even paying much attention to the people Urban was meeting. The witch was keeping a sharp eye on Paisley, who had come out of the kitchen again. A young man whose name he’d already forgotten was helping her set up a cake. He knew something about the process since he’d helped her out at that wedding.

  “Then what is it?” she asked.

  He turned his attention to his companion. Ashlin Lau was a latent, a human with magic she didn’t know she had. Maddy would be interested to meet her. “I’m trying not to screw it up with her.”

  “I can’t approve of such a conservative course. Be bold, dear boy. She deserves your best effort.” Ashlin poked him in the stomach. “My God, there’s not an ounce of fat on you, is there?” He shook his head and the tiny woman adopted an innocent expression that made him snort. “Look at you, you delicious man. No straight woman can look at you without thinking about what you’d be like in bed. I’m thinking about it, and I don’t care for men that way.”

  “We’ve had sex,” he said. “If that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Lord, I hope so.”

  “We have fantastic sex.”

  “I do like a man who can speak his mind.” She rubbed her palm up and down his stomach. “One or two brilliant performances from you that include foreplay, my dear boy—tell me you know what foreplay is—followed by several thoughtful gestures and I think you’d be well on your way to giving her the effort she deserves from you.”

  He looked at Paisley again. She’d left off examining her cake to watch Urban and his skinny-ass witch working the party. He returned his attention to Ashlin. “I can’t get her to tell me what kind of things she likes.”

  The woman lifted her wineglass in a silent toast. “Observe, my dear boy. What does she have in her home?”

  He went back to watching Paisley. “She doesn’t have anything. She’s staying with me until I have her apartment ready to live in again. It burned down in a fire.” He patted Ashlin between the shoulder blades when her sip of wine went down the wrong pipe. “You okay?”

  She coughed a few more times and then wiped her eyes. She lifted a hand to signal she was fine. “Recovered, yes. Thank you. Good heavens. A fire?”

  “She didn’t tell you?”

  “No. She certainly did not.”

  “Her place burned down.” Sort of. Close enough to the truth.

  “When did this happen?”

  “A while back. I told her I’d replace her things, but she won’t spend my money. That’s why I don’t know what she likes. She needs everything. I could get her new dishes, but that isn’t very romantic.” He sighed. “Besides, anything I get her is just going to seem practical to her. Just replacing stuff she lost.”

  “Yes, I see the problem. Well, then, since she needs everything, you must do something impractical.”

  He couldn’t kill Rasmus even though that would be a grand gesture. Nikodemus would have his head on a pike if he did that. “Like what?”

  She was gazing at him with a thoughtful expression. “She’s living with you, you say?”

  “Yes.”

  “She could have stayed with friends. Me, for example. I’d gladly have taken her in.”

  He shoved his hands into his coat pockets. No way could he explain to her why that couldn’t have happened. “I insisted.”

  “Before or after you became intimate?”

  “Before.”

  She made an irritated face. “Oh, damn. Here comes Urban. And the cameras. Just when things were getting interesting, too.”

  With that, Urban the Food Cooker and his damned witch strolled over. The man spread his arms wide. “Ashlin.”

  Ashlin handed Iskander her wine and walked into the man’s open arms to receive and return an enthusiastic hug.

  Iskander and the witch gazed at each other. She didn’t smile. Neither did he. “Fiend.” She spoke in a low voice. “You’ll regret your involvement here.”

  “Not tonight I won’t.” He lifted Ashlin’s wine.

  “Attempt to harm any of them,” the witch said, “and you will end up as my mageheld.”

  He smiled softly. To keep up appearances. She was pulling magic through her, and that made his skin crawl, but so far he wasn’t worried about what she could do. “Not going to happen.”

  “It’s been too long,” Urban was saying to Ashlin.

  “Yes, it has.” Ashlin, however, had caught the last word the witch had said to Iskander and looked with wide-eyed alarm at the woman.

  “Let me introduce you,” Urban said. He drew the witch against his side. “This is Freddie. Frederica Sylvester. She’s works for my West Coast publicist.” Frederica smiled and this time it was friendly. She was faking it. “Freddie, this is my beloved friend and mentor Ashlin Lau. She taught me everything that matters about sauces.”

  She held out a hand to Ashlin. Her nails were long and dark purple. “So pleased to meet you, Ms. Lau.” The witch smiled, and it was a damn convincing act. “I’ve heard of you, of course.”

  “A pleasure, Freddie.” Ashlin put a hand on Iskander’s upper arm. “Allow me to introduce my handsome friend.”

  “Please do,” Freddie said.

  She did the honors and then got another baffled look. “What do you do, you dear man? Do you cook?”

  “No.” He gave Ashlin a big grin. “I eat.”

  By this time, Paisley was aware something was going on that involved him, and she walked over, looking as if she expected he would strip naked any minute. He knew from Paisley’s grimace that the screaming from the witch was getting to her. He kept a smile, but he pulled his magic, because if this went south, he had to be ready. “I deal in antiquities.”

  “Do you?” the witch said. “Any kind in particular?”

  “Sumerian and Assyrian, for the most part.” He shrugged. “I invest, too.”

  “In?”

  Iskander didn’t fail to notice Urban’s sudden interest at that. Odds were the guy was going to ask him to put his money into some venture. “Anything likely to turn a profit.”

  Paisley made it to them. At last, Urban acknowledged her existence. The cameraman backed up a bit and got a shot of Paisley shaking hands with Urban.

  “Paisley. Honey, how are you?” Urban grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her up and down. “You look great.”

  Iskander didn’t even have to reach for the man’s thoughts to know he wasn’t going to let go of the superior position he thought he’d established back whenever he and Paisley were a thing. Once an insensitive asshole, always an insensitive asshole.

  She broke the contact, but after another sweeping glance at her, Urban pulled her in close for one of his patented hugs for hot women, meaning the embrace lasted a little too long and the hands wandered.

  Ashlin poked Iskander in the stomach again. No fucking kidding, he thought.

  The witch had to get in her dig, too. When Urban let go of Paisley, she held
out a hand, gave her name, and said, “I’ve heard so much about you, Paisley. How’s your little cake shop doing?”

  “Very well, thank you.” She reached for Freddie’s hand.

  Iskander felt the magic too late to keep Paisley from touching the witch, but he got a hand out in time to jostle Freddie and turn what should have been a firm handshake into more of a glancing brush of fingers. His skin prickled and a painful shock raced up his arm. Whatever she’d done, it was awkward and unsubtle, and exactly the kind of bullshit Rasmus was pulling with Paisley. He placed himself between Paisley and the witch. That magic-laden touch wasn’t any accident, and it sure as hell wasn’t innocent. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to be clumsy.”

  He did a quick scan of the room for people who were reacting to Freddie’s magic. No one was having any of the typical reactions when someone was stupid about pulling magic. No one was rubbing their arms, shuddering, or staring at Freddie with a puzzled expression. Ashlin, maybe, but she seemed to be the sort to play things close to the vest.

  The witch tried again, and Iskander pulled his magic up through him until the witch had to be vibrating from it. Paisley reacted, too, but he already felt the echo from her, the tension and ache of the witch’s attempt to use magic on her. She failed, of course.

  “Hey, Paisley.” Iskander touched her shoulder, and immediately he heard the screaming and got a full-on blast of the pain in her head, the sense of something attempting to pry its way in. Her eyes were losing focus. Shit. No, she was not all right. He slipped a hand under her forearm. “You’ve been serving up food long enough. I think it’s time you let someone else do that.”

  She reached toward the witch. Iskander braced himself and made sure he was close enough to stop the witch if he had to. If he was careful and he timed things just right, he could take her heart before anyone knew what the hell was going on.