Cormac sat down across from her and sliced a golden ripe pear for himself. The juice dripped down his hand. “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. Mating was never on my list of things to do, but that’s moot. Our goal now is to understand how to deal with it.”
“You can annul it,” she said stubbornly. “You haven’t even tried.”
There was no point going into the details of what trouble this mating had caused for him, since it would only deepen her guilt. Yet she didn’t seem to grasp that there was no way to break a fey mating. “In fact, I have. I spoke to Isindle and she will see if there is a way,” he said, handing her a slice of pear. “Though I don’t believe there is.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
“I propose that we focus on the world-ending issues first and then how to break the mating. Or is being mated to me so abhorrent to you that we need to prioritize it?”
She went bright red. “I can wait. Lives are at stake.”
Cormac lowered his voice. “Is it that bad being mated, Michaela? To me?”
Michaela dropped her eyes and said nothing.
“Answer me.”
“It’s not you.” Her reply was only a whisper. “It’s the situation. Being mated, to anyone.”
He nodded. “I know.”
Chapter 22
Michaela looked up to see Cormac staring at the wall. This whole thing was her fault and yet she’d only given Cormac a fleeting thought. He hadn’t wanted to be mated either.
“You too?” she asked.
“Me too, but I seem to dealing with it better than you.” He leaned across the table. “Since we’ll be stuck together for quite some time, we should probably discuss it.”
Michaela didn’t want to talk about why she didn’t want to be mated. Wasn’t it enough that she didn’t? When he spoke to her in that tone, the one that made her think of his hands sliding over her, she felt almost compelled to do his bidding. She didn’t like that. It had to be a fey compulsion.
Which, then, she didn’t like.
God damn him.
At least it was only desire. There was no more to it. He had no claim on her heart and never would. Even if this entire mating catastrophe hadn’t happened, she desired him and would still be in this same position of wanting to yell at him while begging him to hold her down and take her.
Ugh. What was the matter with her? This was intolerable. She couldn’t allow emotion to get in the way of her work. Of course being mated was bad—but in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t as bad as world war. She needed to keep perspective.
If her entire being wasn’t rebelling under these forced partnerships, having him first as her Watcher and then as her mate, she might be able to view it with the distance that perspective needed.
Mated. She remembered the triumphant smile and cold hands of her first husband and shuddered.
“Why don’t you want to be mated?” she evaded.
He shrugged. “I told you. There is no more serious choice for a fey. To be plunged into it like this is…intolerable.”
“Is that it?” she probed. There was another reason, she knew it. “Did I take you from a lover?”
He laughed. “No. You? Do you have one?” A muscle in his jaw jumped.
“No.”
“Good.”
She took the last bite of her apple and put the core down. “We’re going to set out some ground rules.”
“I’m listening.” He sounded serious enough for her to take it at face value. “We need to be able to work together,” he added.
Michaela watched him lick the pear juice off his wrist as she tried to summon her thoughts and finally had to force her eyes to the ceiling to not stare.
“You’ve gone well and beyond the role of Watcher,” she said. “You have much to offer. I recommend you continue your active involvement in this investigation in the way we’ve been approaching it.”
“We don’t tell Madden?” He cut right to the chase.
Madden. He had nothing left to offer her. “No.”
“Works for me.”
“We won’t talk about the mating until we’ve come through this crisis. We pretend it didn’t happen.”
“That will be hard.” He pulled his shirt down and wordlessly pointed to his tattoo.
That body. His skin was flawless except for scars that she instinctively knew came from combat. “I want to not talk about it. I want to not refer to it. I want us to act as we did right before I said those words.”
“I will try.”
“Why try?” This was exasperating. “Can’t you do it?”
He shook his head. “Mating is the most significant action a fey can take. I simply can’t pretend it means nothing, when to us it means everything.”
“I know, but—“
“Michaela. Close your eyes.”
“Why?” She eyed him suspiciously.
“It’s an experiment.”
Reluctantly, she did as he asked.
“Now, clear your mind.”
“Meditation?”
“Of a sort. Focus on your present. The now.”
It was impossible. Alien thoughts intruded, intense feelings about the wind and cool earth and…Her eyes flew open.
Cormac held up a hand. “Close your eyes.”
She did and this time, she felt the same way she did in the pool. A languorous heaviness filled her body and her skin tingled.
She lifted her eyelids a crack to see Cormac watching her intently. His hands hovered over the table in front of him.
“What’s going on?” Her voice cracked.
“It’s difficult enough for me to try to cope with a mistaken mate, let alone pretend that it’s not real. It is. These feelings—you can experience what I do. We’re connected and we can’t ignore it.”
This was her fault. She caused this. The least she could do was try to be understanding. “I truly am sorry.”
He grinned at her. “I know. Look, at the minimum, you need to accept it happened. You can’t pretend it didn’t. It did. Face up to it. We are mated. Mated. M-a-t—”
“I can spell,” she said sourly.
“—e-d,” he finished.
“For now.”
“This is not facing up to it.”
“I want—” She paused. Cormac was right. She did want to pretend it didn’t happen.
“Michaela, what is the problem here? Let this develop and see what happens. There is nothing we can do about it at the moment.”
She shuddered at the idea of letting something happen. That’s not how she worked. Proper planning made things occur as they should, without leaving things to chance. “We aren’t truly mates. It was a mistake.”
“True.” He shrugged. “Compromise. We continue on, period. I’m still your Watcher, so little is going to change.”
This was probably the best she would get out of him and he was right. They couldn’t separate even if they wanted to until she solved Hiro’s murder.
She nodded. “The last one is no sex.”
“Nay,” said Cormac amiably. “I refuse.”
“We are not going to consummate this false mating.”
“So, one, that’s not how a fey mating works. The assumption is there was plenty of consummation before the mating to ensure compatibility. The mating is final when you say the words.”
“Oh.”
“Second, if I have the opportunity to spread your thighs, sink deep inside of you, and fuck you until you cry, I will. In a bloody instant.”
Michaela gaped at him and tried to ignore the flood of desire that overwhelmed her. Cormac’s eyes were now a dark green and her sigil burned against her. In that moment, she knew that she was well and truly screwed. Cormac was right. No matter what she said, or wanted, they were connected.
She couldn’t think about it now. Best to ignore what he said. She cleared her throat. “Umm, the last is.” What the hell was last? She couldn’t remember. Cormac’s steady gaze on her mouth was not helping. Work? Was it about work?
“We, uh, get to work.”
Cormac nodded. “I am in full agreement with this last point, particularly where it does not interfere with your second point.”
He’d rendered her speechless again. Never in her life had she come across a man who so unashamedly asserted what he wanted.
While she was still thinking about this, and how she desperately wanted to hear more, Cormac pulled out Hiro’s phone.
“While you were recovering, I went through Hiro’s communication.” His professional tone brought her back to her senses.
Priorities, Michaela. End of the world. War.
Sex with Cormac.
Michaela reached for some almonds. “Tell me.”
“This is bigger than Hiro. He’s with Frieda. Or was. I still can’t tell who he was talking to because the texts are only his. Frieda is setting up bases here in North America. Eric was right about their membership. It’s grown. Vampires, weres, all of them.”
Michaela let out a controlled breath. “All reporting to Frieda?”
“She’s somehow convinced them that once the humans are dominated, all the arcane races will be left to their own devices.”
“She’s lying. Iverson was all about domination. Masquerada at the top.”
Cormac sent the phone spinning lazily across the counter. It came to rest by her hand and she pulled away. That battered black rectangle had transformed into a beacon of hate. “I have some suspicions.”
“About Frieda.”
“You were in charge of shutting down Iverson’s supporters.”
Michaela nodded. Iverson was an internal masquerada issue but as Cormac had pointed out, this was no time for hiding information. “It’s still going on. His support was stronger and more deeply rooted than we thought.” She paused. “That’s why Hiro was in my office. He was looking for information to send them.”
“It seems likely.”
“Then how did he get my key? The only copies are in security.”
Cormac sighed. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“I don’t want to walk.” She spoke to his back. He was already headed out the door. With a curse, she stood and followed after him. “Did you not hear me?” she demanded.
“I heard you.”
Even more galling than Cormac’s high-handed behavior was that Michaela’s spirits started to rise the moment she dug her toes into the grass. A deep breath brought fresh air rushing through her bloodstream. Even her step was bouncier. She looked closely at the trees as they walked. “It feels like spring, not autumn.” Toronto in November was damp and chilly.
He looked down at her and her breath sucked in. The golden light lit him up like a halo, shadowing the sharp lines of his face. “We’re actually near the borders of the fey homeland.” He waved lazily to the left and she saw a pale pink glow in the distance. “I can’t go in, but this remains open to me.”
If this was the borderland, his real home must be magnificent. A pang went through her at his isolation. How terrible to see the home you love and never be able to return. Cormac took the lead through the forest and into a clearing. A small pagoda sat in the center, crowned by sunlight. Vines with big yellow trumpet-like flowers hung down from the sides.
“Come.” Cormac motioned her to enter. Michaela sat down on one of the softly padded chairs and let the breeze sweep over her skin. Cormac’s smile was crooked. “I come here to think sometimes,” he said. “This is designated for exiles, so it’s usually quite quiet.”
Michaela sat up straight. “How many exiles are there?”
“One. Now. Let’s talk.”
The brisk corporate voice was jarring in this tranquil retreat, and it didn’t help when he moved over to sit beside her. Cormac pulled out a notebook and opened it to a page of what, to Michaela, looked like beautifully rendered runic symbols. “Sorry.” He flipped it to English and handed it to her.
His closeness distracted Michaela enough that she had to lean forward to get her eyes to focus on the page. Hiro’s messages. Cormac’s graceful writing laid out the mind of a traitor exploring his options. She skimmed across the vitriol that seemed to overtake Hiro any time he referred to her, unwilling to read those words of ceaseless revulsion. To be detested this much was shocking only because he had been so good at hiding it. They weren’t friends, but she had considered their relationship to be at least professionally cordial. That she was so off base was disconcerting. What else had she been wrong about? Who else?
The more she read, the more Michaela realized concealment seemed to be Hiro’s speciality. She jumped to her feet, so fascinated she couldn’t stay still. She paced around the pagoda, only distantly aware of Cormac’s eyes tracking her, comforting rather than invasive.
When done, she checked the sheaf to see if she’d missed a page. “Is that it?” The last message ended midsentence.
“Unfortunately.” Cormac joined her on the grass.
“Damn.” The messages definitely described an alliance between Hiro and Frieda’s army. More concerning was that Hiro and his mysterious associate seemed to have been in touch with some of the very cells Michaela had been working hard to eradicate.
She held up the papers. “Hiro supplied at least some of those dead humans Eric’s teams found.”
Cormac nodded. “With vampire collusion. Did you get the sense that they were going willingly or the vamp was using their compulsion?”
“My bet is on willingly. Hiro promised them something.” She slapped the papers down. “What? What could a group of masquerada traitors give humans?”
Her question was rhetorical. They both knew the answer. Humans had yearned for arcane powers for millennia.
“Could Oksana be involved?” she said.
Cormac laughed out loud. “Would you include that woman in a highly dangerous and secret plot?”
True. Oksana loved drama, and Madden had kept a close watch on her to make sure she stayed in line. She’d taken it as special interest in her opinions and had preened unbearably under his attention.
“None of this points to why he would be killed.”
“Besides looking like you at your desk in your office?”
“I know. They wanted me. I thought so even before I was poisoned.” She raised her eyebrows. “At least you know it wasn’t for your forest.”
“A relief.” His light words were betrayed by the dark expression on his face.
“This still doesn’t answer why Hiro was in my office,” Michaela said. “Or why he was killed there. There’s no proof he was spying, although it seems likely.”
“I’d almost believe we could chalk it up to an unhealthy obsession with you, but it’s too coincidental.” He held up his fingers to count off. “One, we have a human in touch with your personal enemies. Two, he’s involved with your enemies to overthrow your Hierarch and our entire way of living with the humans, the whole Law. Three, for some reason he’s supplying humans to the masquerada to kill.”
Michaela thought about this. “Your last point.”
“Was as cogent and as well-articulated as the rest.”
She resisted an eye-roll. “Is a fallacy. He’s supplying the humans and the humans are dying. It’s not certain the goal is their death, though.”
Cormac tucked his hair behind his ear, and she stared at the thin gold band again. Why did it attract her so much? She had earrings herself. “Then what?”
“The punctures on the remains,” she said. “They could be experimenting.”
“They could also be very tidy killers.”
“Which is the opposite of whoever killed Hiro.” All that blood. “We need to talk to Eric. Is t
here a signal out here?” No comms towers, but who knew what the fey had set up. Maybe hummingbirds took messages.
“Back in the tree.” He placed his hand on her back to guide her through and her entire body trembled. His hand was almost large enough to span her waist. For a moment she wanted to retreat into Yuri’s huge masque but she restrained herself. There was nothing to be frightened of.
It wasn’t fear she was feeling. Her tattoo pulsed and Cormac’s hand stiffened on her waist.
Hold on. She cleared her mind and took a few more steps before suddenly thinking of when they had been together in her bed, and Cormac telling her how she would eventually beg for him.
Behind her, she heard a groan and Cormac stumble.
She spun around. He was looking at her with a hot desire that made her thighs shake. Instead of speaking, he simply pressed a hand down on his cock—which she could see through his jeans was already big and thick—and watched her body. He walked towards her, his eyes now on hers.
It only took two steps for her to be backed up against the trunk of a big, smooth birch tree. Her mouth was too dry to speak as she looked up at him.
Slowly, so slowly she had to stifle a moan from the anticipation, he leaned forward until his body almost touched hers. Then he stopped.
What was she supposed to do? Michaela was never uncertain, but this had her thrown for a loop. It was all the more exciting for being unknown. In any other situation, she would have taken the lead and pulled him in.
She didn’t know what Cormac wanted her to do.
She shivered as she realized she wasn’t sure. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t know what she wanted.
* * * *
In the dim recesses of his mind, Cormac knew it was extremely important to get back home and tell Eric Kelton what they’d learned. They could save lives. They might stop a war.
It didn’t matter. Michaela Chui stood in front of him, her breath coming in quick gasps from excitement and so aroused that he could feel the desire flow off her in waves. It was physically impossible for him to stop.
She was also nervous and he knew why. He’d prayed for this to happen, but in all of his years, he’d never been lucky enough to encounter it. This was his ultimate fantasy, his eternal wish. A ball-bustingly strong woman who wanted him to take the lead, at least in bed.
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