by DB Reynolds
Damian listened, filtering each rumor, and was confident he knew the truth. Or close enough to it. And so did Cassandra. They stood outside the building, right up against the brightly colored barricades the police had erected, and studied the scene with the unique abilities granted by the magic in their blood.
“This was no artifact,” Cassandra said quietly.
Damian breathed in deeply, scenting the air. “Fuck me,” he swore softly. “That’s definitely Kato’s magic, but he’s not there anymore.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Yeah, damn it. As much as I’d like to see him walk through that door, we can’t risk having the authorities arrest him for something he didn’t do. Or rather, something he didn’t start. He did this, but something or someone else triggered it. Whatever the fuck ‘it’ was. I need to talk to Nico. Let’s go.”
They made their way back down the hill to the SUV, threading their way casually through the crowds, staring at the multitude of emergency vehicles like everyone else. But once they reached their own vehicle, they didn’t waste any time before calling Nico.
“Where are you?” Damian asked, from where he sat in the front seat, still eyeing the campus on the hill.
“In the air, on my way.”
“Good. That’s good. This was definitely Kato’s work. I can’t say what happened exactly, but the magic was black as sin. There was a survivor—we saw him wheeled away early on—but it wasn’t our boy.”
“All right. I’ll land in a few hours. In the meantime, get over to that damn museum. Most of them don’t understand half of what they’ve got stashed in their basement, but it’s a good bet that someone there knows how this started.”
“Fuck me. You think Kato’s been stuck in a museum basement all this time?”
“I think it’s a strong possibility. The question is . . . what happened to set him free, and who’s unhappy about it?”
Chapter Ten
KATO COULD BARELY walk by the time he and Grace were securely behind the walls of her parents’ beach house once more. It wasn’t the storm of slashed flesh on his arm and face, it was the agony of recovering from his mother’s curse. His mother. Fuck that. She’d never been much of a mother to him. She hadn’t even nursed him as a babe, choosing one of her women as a wet nurse instead. From the very beginning, she’d seen him as a thing meant to enhance her power and prestige. He’d never been a child to her. And now he was sitting in Grace’s car because he was too weak to climb back onto his feet and walk into the fucking house.
What was it that he’d thought earlier? About how he’d walked off battlefields with far greater injuries? Yeah, but he’d had Nico on his side back then, and he didn’t think he’d ever been ravaged by the curse as badly as he’d been today. He wondered if it was because the possession spell he’d been unraveling had been powered by the Dark Witch herself, and, through him, it had been her magic that had torn it apart and defeated it. He was no magical theorist, but he could see how that would pull his mother’s magic in two directions at once. And the tug-of-war was being played out on his body.
What he did know was that he felt completely hollow, as if his guts had been torn out and his lungs shoved up into his throat. Breathing was an effort. Keeping his heart beating was an act of will, rather than the involuntary physical process it should have been. And he was pretty sure the big bone in his right leg had been broken, because the hellacious pain as his magic knit it back together was something he’d never felt before.
His car door opened, and Grace was there.
“Kato?” She gave him a searching look. “Don’t jump on me for asking, okay? But . . . can you walk?”
He smiled crookedly. “I can probably make it to the couch, if you help me.”
Being Grace, she didn’t shove his earlier attitude in his face. “Okay, let’s do this scientifically. Swing your legs out of the car, and—”
She stopped at the look on his face.
“No swinging?” she asked with a sympathetic wince.
“The left leg is . . . good. The right one isn’t working right now.”
“Right. Let’s do it this way then.” She lifted his broken right leg out of the car and set his foot on the ground while he moved his left, and twisted his hips until he was sitting in the open car door, the light of the full moon making it very clear just how badly he was injured.
“Oh, baby,” Grace whispered, staring at the multitude of wounds inflicted by the demon’s blade, and then the shattered glass that had fallen like snow in the winter. “That’s gotta sting.”
He laughed out loud, and it felt good. “Yeah. It stings.”
“Hold on to me.” She gripped his upper arms while he did the same to her, and together they lifted and pulled until he was next to the car. He wasn’t standing so much as he was leaning, but Grace didn’t linger. She’d apparently opened the gate and the front door before coming for him, because they stumbled directly into the living room where he collapsed gracelessly onto the sofa.
“Didn’t we do this once before?” he muttered.
“Pretty much. Though there’s a lot more blood this time.”
“Shit. This sofa is wrecked. And what about your parents? Won’t—”
“Don’t worry. I’ll have it cleaned or replaced before they get home.”
“Won’t they notice?”
“Maybe. But they’re kind of used to my brother taking advantage of the house when they’re gone. He’s had some wicked parties. Mom and Dad don’t care, as long as everything’s put to rights before they get back, and no one complains to the police.”
Kato stared at her, unable to comprehend that kind of parent-child relationship. He didn’t know anyone like that. Maybe it was a societal thing. Maybe modern convenience and money changed everything.
But as fascinating as that was—not—his magic chose that moment to rebuild his spleen, and he had to bite back a groan of misery.
“Damn,” Grace muttered. “Let me get our things and lock the car, and then I’ll check upstairs. I bet my parents have pain meds of some kind—”
“No drugs.”
“But, Kato, these are—”
“No drugs, Grace. I’ll deal with it. I’ve done it before.”
She looked unhappy about it, but she nodded her agreement. “What about something to eat? You’ll need the energy, won’t you?”
“Not until after. I’m not sure my stomach will work right now.”
“Oh, God. Okay. I’ll . . . get a blanket.” She rose quickly, as if relieved to have a task, something she could do to help.
“Grace.”
She spun back, dropping down to perch on the edge of the couch, one hand resting lightly on his leg. “Yeah, babe?”
He managed to set aside the grinding pain in his leg and the crippling agony of his gut long enough to put his hand on hers with a careful squeeze. “Thank you, amata.”
Her returning smile lit up the room. “You’d do the same for me, except better. You’d probably sweep me off my feet and carry me upstairs.”
“Would I get to ravage you then?”
“God, I hope so.”
His laugh was choked off by a sudden groaning surge of pain, as if the curse was determined that he’d have no pleasure until he’d suffered through every miserable second of his healing. “Fuck,” he swore softly.
“Let me get you a drink. That’s okay, right?” She crossed the room to a small bar with three stools, and on a shelf behind it, bottles of every size and shape. “Vodka? Whiskey? Uh, rum? We have it all.”
“I don’t know any of those,” he said, forcing himself to respond. All he really wanted was to lie back, close his eyes, and get this the fuck over with. “What do you drink?” he asked faintly.
“I’m a whiskey girl myself, but I’m a wuss, so I mix it with soda water. You probably want it straight.”
“I’ll trust you,” he ground out.
She came back with an elegant glass that was filled
with a beautiful amber liquid. She sat and held out the glass. “Try this. Take a small sip at first.”
Kato didn’t know how his innards were going to respond to the liquor, but the scent alone was enticing, bringing back memories of peat fires and pepper spice. “What is it?” he asked, as he took the glass and sniffed again.
“Scotch, something called Lagavulin. My dad drinks it, so it must be good.”
He took a cautious sip and felt the burn all the way down to his still-healing stomach. It should have hurt, but the liquid seemed to numb the path it travelled, leaving behind a pleasant, warm feeling of contentment. He took another sip.
“Your father has excellent taste.”
“That’s what he says.” She winked at him. “If you’re okay, I’ll run upstairs and get some things for tonight.”
“You don’t need to sit up with me, Grace. I’m not a child.”
“I’m not going to sit up. There’s room on the couch for both of us, and I’m tired.”
Kato set the glass down and very slowly laid back on the soft sofa cushions. His body felt fragile, as if it would tear apart at the slightest stress. Grace briefly busied herself in the kitchen, but then with a quick glance in his direction—as if tragedy would have struck in those few minutes—ran up the stairs to get her “things.” Watching her through half-closed eyes, he was struck again by her strength and stamina. She was very fit for a woman who ostensibly spent her days buried in books and scrolls. He frowned. And what about Ryan Walker? The mathematician hadn’t been what he’d expected, either. And there was that whole business with Grace shooting him, because it was “only a flesh wound” and “he’d had worse.” There was more to the story of Grace and Ryan, he thought as his eyelids drifted shut. She hadn’t told him the complete truth yet, but she would.
EVERY MUSCLE IN his body ached. That was the first thing Kato noticed when he regained consciousness. He supposed one could have called it sleep, but he’d been dead to the world. Anyone from his deadliest enemy to his dearest friend could have walked up and sat down next to him, and he wouldn’t have noticed.
He inhaled deeply, recognizing the briny scent of the ocean, and . . . Grace. She was lying next to him, tucked securely into the curve of his body, her head pillowed on his upper arm. He scanned the room with all of his senses, human and magical, and found nothing threatening or unexpected. But he didn’t stir. He didn’t want to wake Grace.
It was nighttime, and he was fully healed, which meant he’d slept through the night and another day. He’d been wounded often enough in Nico’s service to know how long it would take to heal the kinds of injuries he’d suffered in his battle against the demon possessing Ryan Walker. Especially without Nico’s magic around to ease the pain.
The sea was in motion beyond the edge of the deck, liquid silver under the full moon. He looked around. The remains of an uneaten meal sat on the coffee table, which had been pushed away to make room for the two of them to sleep side by side. The couch they lay on was wide, but he was a very big man. Even with Grace being as slender as she was, they’d been forced to lie very close. Not that he minded. Waking up next to a warm, willing woman—especially this one—was not a hardship.
Speaking of willing and hard . . . his cock stirred against the firm swell of her very fine ass. He’d been too injured to do anything last night, but apart from the aches expected after such a catastrophic healing, his body was feeling very much up to the task. Up being the operative word.
He tightened his arm around her belly and snugged her closer, leaning down to nuzzle her soft cheek. She smiled beneath his lips, and reached back to curl her fingers around his neck.
“Feeling better, I guess,” she said softly.
His only response was to nip the silky skin of her neck, as his hand moved from her belly to her breasts. She was fully dressed—they both were. But unlike him, she’d had a chance to clean up and change clothes from what she’d been wearing during the fight with the demon. Beneath her short T-shirt, her breasts were unencumbered, a warm handful of soft flesh. His fingers grazed her nipple, squeezing between thumb and finger when the sensitive tip hardened at his touch. Her heart sped up, beating a steady rhythm beneath her breast.
“Much better,” he murmured. “And feeling as if I’ve neglected you.”
She laughed softly. “You were barely alive.”
He flexed his hips, and her breath hitched. He caressed her other breast, pinching the nipple until it, too, was swollen and eager, and then smoothed his hand over her belly, sliding beneath the waistband of her soft sweatpants, and farther down, meeting nothing but silky sweet skin.
“No panties,” he whispered against her ear. “Naughty girl, Grace.”
She smiled, then reached back and rubbed his cock where it was crushed beneath the tight fabric of his jeans. “You should free that monster before you break something.”
He laughed. “It would only heal.”
“But that would take too long, and I want you now.”
It was his turn to suck in a breath at her bold demand. He sat up, taking her with him, intending to set her aside and undo the buttons on his pants. But Grace beat him to it. Going down on her knees between his legs, she kissed the bulge of his cock beneath the denim, and then oh so slowly slipped the buttons loose one by one until his cock was free. She looked up, holding his gaze as she stroked his erection, her slender fingers surprisingly strong as they gripped the base and then slid upward to squeeze the first drop of pre-cum from his tip.
Kato hissed when her lips closed over him, when she drew him into her warm mouth while her tongue swirled around and around, caressing every inch as her head bobbed up and down sucking his full length deep into her throat and holding him there as she swallowed and swallowed, caressing and squeezing, until she released him, the soft strokes of her tongue teasing upward to kiss the sensitive tip.
And all the while, she watched him, her eyes wide open and meeting his in the ultimate act of submission.
Kato growled. As erotic as it was to have this beautiful woman on her knees before him, his cock in her mouth, that wasn’t what he wanted, what he needed. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he tugged her head back, freeing his cock with an audible pop, before reaching down and dragging her up onto his lap. He tore the damn sweatpants over her naked ass, shoving them down her legs until she could straddle him.
Grace hummed eagerly and reached to position his cock between her thighs, but he stopped her, gripping her hips and holding her in place, the tip of his penis barely hidden between the slick outer lips of her pussy. She moaned unhappily at that, raising her eyes from his cock to his face, her hips twitching against his hold. “Want,” she murmured, her eyes narrowed and lips pouting in a frown.
Kato grinned and flexed his hips just enough to touch the wet heat of her sex. “Kiss me, Grace.”
She responded immediately, her soft breasts brushing his chest as their lips met gently at first, and then harder as their mouths slammed into a lush and passionate kiss. They were both panting when their mouths finally broke apart, and Grace strained against his grip on her hips, trying to lower herself onto his cock.
“Kato!” she snapped.
He laughed, and then without warning slammed her down, shoving his full length into her creamy body, her pussy hot and grasping as it sucked him in and held him in its delicious embrace.
“Fuck,” Grace gasped, and then closed her eyes, her head falling back as she moved her hips in a gentle circle, rubbing her clit against his groin as her sheath clutched at him eagerly, her inner muscles flexing and releasing, stroking and caressing the full length of his shaft.
Kato loosened his fingers where they’d been digging into her hips hard enough to leave bruises. He couldn’t feel bad about that, though. Grace brought out a possessive streak in him that he’d never felt with any other woman. She was his. He knew it in his gut, could feel the spark of her life burning deep in his soul, as if it had always been there. An ember final
ly brought to flame.
Her hard nipples scraped over his chest as her hips swiveled over his cock, rising and falling, creating a delicious friction that grew hotter every time she moved. She nibbled at his mouth, her teeth closing over his lip hard enough to draw blood.
“Pay attention,” she demanded.
He gripped her hips and thrust upward hard enough to bring a renewed gasp. “I’m paying attention, Grace. I’m not going to miss a single inch of your slick pussy as you fuck me.”
“Then fuck me,” she whispered so softly that he could barely hear it. But he did.
And in the next breath, he had Grace spread out beneath him, the sweatpants torn and discarded on the floor as her bare legs spread wide and her thighs clutched his hips. He slammed into her, thrusting hard, his cock gliding on the creamy wetness of her arousal until he was buried deep . . . and then he slowed down, pulling all the way out and teasing her as he dipped just the head of his cock into her heated center, before filling her again. A slow, languorous glide, feeling every inch of her trembling sheath surrounding his cock just as he’d promised, listening to her soft, breathy cries begging him to go faster, to relieve the ache he could feel building in the tension of her muscles, the shivering of her pussy.
“Is this what you wanted?” he whispered, leaning down to close his teeth over the flesh of her shoulder, leaving a bloody mark of possession.
Her response was a wordless gasp as he stroked deep inside her, and then slowed even further, pumping his hips in shallow movements that promised release, but delivered delicious torment instead.
“Kato,” she breathed, and then repeated on a cry as her pussy suddenly spasmed around him, her climax squeezing so hard that he could feel every one of her inner muscles stroking his cock, demanding his surrender to the frenzy of orgasm.
Without thought, he found himself driving into her with frantic need, pulling out and slamming back, forcing the air from her lungs as her fingers dug into his shoulders, her nails digging furrows into his skin, the pain adding to the sensations throbbing through his body, building in his balls until he couldn’t take anymore. He surrendered with a groan, the heat of his release roaring down his cock as he plunged into her one more time, spilling himself in a mind-blowing burst of passion that left them both spent and too exhausted to do more than lie next to each other, struggling to breathe.