“I came here to have dinner and couple hours away with my lady,” Damon said, not bothering to keep his voice low or even polite. He awarded the entire bar a dark look. “It’s kind of been shot to hell, as you all can see, but that doesn’t mean I don’t plan on salvaging it. If anybody has business with me, they can see to it in the normal way. Not when I’m trying to have a fucking meal.”
He paused and looked back at Grayson.
The man had gone pale, the skin around his eyes all tight and he was twisted a ragged old baseball cap in his hands in a way that made me think he was going to shred it if he wasn’t careful.
“Is that understood?” Damon asked, this time directing the question at the man in front of us.
“Yes, Alpha.” He nodded, the gesture jerky, nervous. I started to feel bad for him but as Damon went to guide me away, I caught the look he sent me from under his lashes.
Yeah, the resentment I saw simmering in his eyes was enough to smash any sympathy I might have had. I would have been fine giving him a few damn minutes. If he wanted to get his tail in a twist, he could get mad at Damon.
Like that would happen.
“Got your food ready, Alpha,” Drake said from behind the bar.
As the two of us crossed the floor, I noticed that hardly anybody was looking at him, at either of us, really.
“Does anybody call you by your name anymore, Damon?” I asked as he pulled some money from his pocket and tossed it on the bar.
“Sure. Smart-assed little hired killers do.” He slid me a sidelong smile as he grabbed the bags from the counter. “Thanks, Drake.”
“Well, I’m not going to call you Alpha.”
“Yeah. Hell would freeze over. I’m aware.” He glanced around and caught Chang’s gaze, nodded shortly.
Chang inclined his head.
It seemed the two of them could carry on entire conversations with just a look. Sometimes it weirded me out. Like now. And when I was already nervous and edgy from what had happened earlier.
When I was nervous, I tended to run my mouth.
Falling into step alongside Damon, I glanced over at him. “By the way, I’ll have you know, I hardly ever take on contract killings.”
He paused in his tracks and then looked at me. “Contract killings. Shit.” Then he shook his head. “I don’t want to think about that.”
“Hell, how did you think a hired killer did it?” I shrugged. “It’s not like I can just stand on the side of the road and hold up a sign… Will kill for food.”
I thought I heard somebody snicker somewhere out in the bar.
Damon skimmed a look around and that snicker died a strangled death in the person’s throat.
I acted like I hadn’t noticed as I slid my hands into my back pockets. The weird glint in his eye almost had me confessing a small truth. In the past six years since I’d opened up Colbana Investigations, I’d actually only taken on three cases that involved contracted killings. The men had deserved it, one I’d done kind of pro-bono, and the other two had been team jobs.
I did come from a long line of assassins, but it had never been the best fit for me. Too much human blood in me, I guess. I could do it—and do it well, but I never liked doing it.
I didn’t see any reason to explain that to him right then. I gave him my most charming smile as he opened the door for me. “So you see, I’m not really that much of a hired killer.”
“Well, calling you a hired-pain-in-the-ass just doesn’t have the same effect, does it?”
Judging by the look on his face, he didn’t know if he wanted to shake me or laugh.
I think I had that effect on him, a lot.
As we stepped out into the hot, humid air of the Orlando evening, a band I hadn’t even been aware of slowly released from around my chest.
“Well,” I said brightly. “That was fun. We should do this more often.”
“Sure.” Damon slung an arm around my neck and hauled me close. The feel of his lips on my temple caused this odd little lurch, right square in the center of my chest. “Maybe next time you can start an interspecies riot, baby girl. You up for it?”
The bad thing was…knowing me? I could probably do it, without even trying.
“Now…just out of curiosity, how many contract killings have you done?”
I slid him a look. “Why do you sound so aggravated? You’re the one always popping off with the hired killer bit.”
His arm fell away and we headed to the car.
It wasn’t until we were inside that he said, “I knew vaguely what you were, that it had something to do with assassins and shit and that’s what Annette had always called you.” He shrugged and slid me a look. “There wasn’t ever really any confirmation or anything that you took such jobs. But you have to admit, hired killer sounds better than plain old investigator.”
“Yes.” I slumped in the seat and started to root around the bag for some French fries. I could smell them and my mouth was watering. “It does. And since it’s not off base, it’s not an issue, either.”
He started the car. “It’s not off base.”
“No.”
“Nobody has ever said anything about this…and I would have heard,” he said, his voice oddly flat.
I nipped a bite of French fry and smiled. “No, you wouldn’t have. In order for you to hear, somebody would have to talk. And Damon…this is going to come as a surprise to you, but there are some things that I’m just that good at.”
I paled in comparison to my family, there was no denying that.
But when it came to sneaky little killers, well…it was what I’d been made for, trained for.
His hand came over and curved around my neck. “Kit, it doesn’t surprise me. Worries me, maybe. But very little about you surprises me anymore.”
Chapter Five
The date hadn’t been a total bust.
The meal was still mostly hot when we got home and even though I had to take a quick shower before I could touch the food, it still tasted pretty good. The mostly hot meal was followed by sex that had been totally hot, and Damon spent the night curled around me with his hand spread over my belly and the warmth of him heating my back.
It was sheer bliss, really.
But then the nightmares started.
It wasn’t one of the bad ones.
Some of the bad ones were just…hell.
I was an orphan.
I don’t know who my father was, only that he was human. My mother had raised me until I was five, but then she died. I don’t know what happened to her—they never told me. I just knew she was died and I was left alone, left to be raised by my grandmother and aunts. It wasn’t a happy thing…for any of us. They hated me. I feared them.
To this day, I still have nightmares and the bad ones are lessons in pain, in humiliation, in fear. Up until a couple of years ago, I’d wake to find myself hiding in my bathroom. I was finally over that, but the nightmares still came.
Nightmares where I’d find myself tied to the whipping post again, as the lash tore into my naked back, over and over again.
Sometimes I dreamed about when my grandmother had broken my arm. An aneira warrior never lowers her guard. And I might be a useless waste, a paltry excuse for a warrior, but I had her blood in me and she’d make me stronger if it killed her.
It had almost killed me, more often than I could count.
But it wasn’t one of those times.
I was just…trapped.
Down in the hellish hole where she’d thrown me when I was fifteen. Trapped, huddling against the cold stone wall, scratching at my filthy skin and praying, crying, desperate for it all to end.
I was just trapped.
Cold—
So cold.
I cried and somebody wiped my tears away even as I heard her voice, Fanis, my grandmother.
Such a weakling…crying because you’re cold. If I had any sense, I would have strangled you the moment I saw you.
“Kit.”
I shivered, crin
ged away from her voice.
“Kit…”
That wasn’t my grandmother’s voice…
“Come on, baby girl…”
Now she was in my head, her voice all but shrieking. He will not stay with you. How can he? He needs somebody to match his own strength…
I sobbed.
All but dying inside.
A snarl echoed through the air. Loud, intense.
This time, her voice was fainter.
I felt a hand at my wrist. Squeezing. Tight, too tight, until I could feel the bones grinding together.
“Wake up, baby,” he whispered. “Come back to me.”
Damon. It was Damon’s voice.
I clung to it. Flexed my wrist and focused on the heat centered there. He was there. He was there.
And I could damn well wake up.
I am aneira...
And I damn well wasn’t going to let that evil bitch beat me. Not in a dream.
“Come on, Kit. That’s it…”
I came awake to feel his hands stroking up and down my back. Strong and steady.
Raggedly, I gulped in air, trying to breathe.
“Shit.”
His arms tightened. “Yeah. Tell me about it.” One hand cradled the back of my head. “You wouldn’t wake up, Kit. Thirty minutes. I’ve been trying to wake you up for thirty minutes.”
I pressed my face against his neck and breathed in the scent of him. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.” He pulled my head back and the sight of the fury in his eyes was like a fire on my skin. “You don’t spend thirty minutes trapped in a nightmare where I can’t help you and then tell me you’re sorry. Damn it, Kit. Of all the things I can kill for you…I can’t kill your past.”
“No.” I leaned in, snuggling against him. I was so damned cold and the heat of him was like heaven. “You can’t do that.”
His hand tangled in my hair, absently kneading at my scalp for a moment while his arm other wrapped around my waist. “I don’t care if I can do it or not…it’s what I want to do.
Closing my eyes, I sighed and just breathed him in.
Yeah. I wished he could, too. I wished we both could. There was no exorcising these ghosts, though. No killing the memories. You can’t kill memories or ghosts like this—all you can do is deal with them.
Long moments passed before the shaking stopped. Eventually, the cold knot of fear inside me eased and I could breathe. I lifted my head enough to glance at the clock and then I dropped my head down on his shoulder with a groan. If I managed to get anymore sleep tonight, it would be a miracle. It was almost four. I guess I ought to be glad I got the four or five hours I’d managed.
Lifting my head, I peered at Damon through my lashes. He was ridiculously alert, but that wasn’t a surprise. Shifters didn’t need sleep the way humans did. And although I wasn’t completely human, I did have some of the more basic human needs. Including the need for a little more sleep. Okay, maybe I just liked a little more sleep.
Lifting my head, I braced an elbow on his shoulder and shifted around until I was settled with one thigh on either side of his hips. In the dim light, his dark gray eyes were almost black. I stroked a finger across his lips and trailed it down his neck, along the line of his shoulder until I hit the dense, heavy lines of his tattoos.
They had been laid on his skin in his youth, before he’d spiked. Before a shifter hit their first shift, they healed just a little faster than humans. If it had been done after, his body would have just absorbed it.
The dense, heavy ink had always mesmerized me and tonight, I focused on it like a drowning man needed a preserver. “What’s all of this mean?” I asked him, splaying my hand out over it.
He covered his hand with mine. “What makes you think it means anything?”
“Tattoos hurt,” I said pointedly. “And this took a while.” All that heavy inking would have taken hours, I suspected. “Somehow, I don’t think you did it just to impress the ladies or to look tough.”
He snorted. “If you’d seen me when I had it done, you might change your mind. I needed all the help I could get when it comes to looking tough. Not that a tattoo would have done it.”
“You didn’t look tough, huh?”
“Scrawniest, most pathetic runt around.” He lifted my hand and kissed it, before lowering it back to his chest. “Remember how Doyle looked in the pictures I showed you?”
“Yeah.” Skinny. Rail-thin skinny, too. Like he wouldn’t have stood up had a stiff wind come along.
“I made him look tough.” He skimmed a thumb along one area of the tattoo and said, “I had her use charm-infused ink. Wanted to make sure it would hold, although she still couldn’t promise it would.”
“So it means something.”
“Yeah.” He rolled his head over and stared at me from under his lashes. “It’s the story of me…what put me on the road that made me what I am. I wanted it written someplace so I’d never forget. I knew it was going to be a long, long walk…I had a goal, things I had to do, and I still have to get them done. I can’t let myself forget. But I can’t talk about it yet.”
Studying his face, I stroked my thumb over the hard line of his mouth. “I don’t think I’m the only one with nightmares.”
“Nobody ever did the things to me that were done to you,” he said quietly.
“Nightmares come in a lot of different forms.” I leaned back in, curled against him. It was early. Too early to get up, too late to really go back to sleep. Seemed to make sense that I just stay right there for a while, wrapped around him.
“We’ve both had enough nightmares maybe.” He stroked a hand down my site and cuddled me close. “It’s time for something different, I think. Why don’t we focus on that?”
“Hmmm.” Closing my eyes, I snuggled in closer. “Yeah. We can focus simple stuff. Nice stuff. Normal stuff.”
The rumble of his chuckle echoed under my ear and he swatted my butt. “Don’t go getting all carried away. We wouldn’t know normal if it bit us. But it might be nice to have something…well, nice.”
“Yeah.” Sleep was actually closer than I thought, I realized, but I forced my eyes opened, stared outside. “Nice… what’s nice and normal?”
“Christmas…you ever do Christmas, Kit?” His hand stroked my nape.
I snorted. “Hell, no. The aunts and Grandmother celebrated the solstice and I’d helped in the house, but I don’t think that’s the same as doing Christmas.” I rolled my head to peer up at him through my lashes. “What about you?”
“Yeah.” He stroked a finger along my cheek. “We always did it, just me and the kid.” His hand slid into my hair and tangled. “You’re going to do Christmas this year. With me.”
I lifted up a little to look at him. “I am, huh?”
“Yeah.” He lifted up onto one elbow and pressed his mouth to mine. “Nice, normal…it doesn’t get much more nice and normal than that.”
“Christmas, huh?” I lay my head back on his chest, smiling a little. “Are we going to get a tree?”
“Damn straight…a tree. I’ll buy you presents. You can buy something, too. I think something red and slinky, like all those lingerie things you look at and never buy.”
Sleep tugged at me harder but I found myself smiling. “You’d look funny in a red lace teddy, Damon.”
“Ha, ha.”
I think he might have kissed me.
I know I heard him whisper something. But I don’t know what he said. I’d already tumbled back down into sleep.
This time, there were no dreams.
* * * * *
“Doyle was in here.”
I was down in my gym. Damon hadn’t made a sound, but I’d known he was coming. I’d felt the burn of him on my skin. He could lash that energy down, but lately, even when he was playing at being human, I knew when he was near me.
I lowered my blade and turned, staring at him as he stood in the doorway, a frown on his face. “You’re the one who sent him over here t
o check up on me. Of course, he was here.”
“I wanted him to make sure you were okay,” Damon snapped. “I didn’t tell him to…”
He trailed off, glaring at me.
“Check up on me?” I swiped my forearm across my brow before the sweat could get into my eyes. “Damon, I really wish the lot of you could get one thing through your heads…I’ve been taking care of myself for a damn long time. I don’t need babysitters.”
A muscle jerked in his jaw.
I sighed and turned away, staring at the mirrors as I lifted my blade again.
“Why was he down here?” Damon asked.
I smirked as I lifted the blade again.
“Kit…”
“Want an answer?”
“If I didn’t want one, I wouldn’t ask.”
I met his eyes in the mirror as I drew the blade down in a diagonal cut. “Maybe I should make you fight me for it.”
He gave me a pained look.
I laughed. Sparring with Damon was fun. He had to keep the brakes on, something we both knew but when he was keeping the brakes on, he couldn’t keep up with me. Meaning I kicked his ass.
Damon was a decent sparring partner but he’d never be a swordsman.
“I’ll tell you what…I’ll answer the question, if you’ll agree to do me a favor.” I finished the attack pattern and then turned to him, smiling a little.
He wasn’t looking at my face.
Clearing my throat, I waited until his gaze shifted from my breasts upward. “You are such a man,” I muttered.
A faint grin tugged at his lips and he shrugged. Then he crossed his arms over his chest. “You know, I could just make Doyle tell me.”
“But you asked me. And I can tell you. Right now…exactly what you want to know, for a favor. All you have to do is something that’s completely within your power to give,” I said. I banished my blade. Her sheath was on one of the weapons tables and she settled there, quiet and quiescent as I strolled over to stand a few feet in front of Damon.
“What?”
“Stop.” I studied his face, wondering if he’d understand what I was asking when I didn’t fully grasp all of it myself. “Just…stop, Damon.”
Night Blade (Colbana Files) Page 6