by Claire Marta
Hopefully, she would remember them in a positive light. She had asked them to ease her need and they had done what she’d wanted. Would she be upset? Angry? Embarrassed or annoyed? Learning so many new facets of their woman lately, it was hard to tell.
“I am not sure Tobias will be happy with us.” Malik’s tone was worried. “We are not in a solid relationship with Casey. We have sparked the transformation for mating but she is not aware of it. She was also intoxicated. He won’t look favorably on our choices if he feels that we have violated her free will.”
Their superior had been firm on the conditions of finding fated mates. They were supposed to date them first. Build trust and a relationship. There would be repercussions for what they had done tonight. Of that, they were certain.
The apartment was in darkness and no cadre members were outside when they arrived. Morgan had not yet returned from her session with Zac and Aiden. The apartment the women shared would be empty.
Parking the car in its usual spot, Malik cut the engine. Glancing into the rear, he saw that Casey was still asleep. Exhaustion and alcohol had taken its toll. Speaking to her would have to wait until morning.
He opened the rear door. With Iosefa’s help, he managed to pull Casey from the car and lift her sleeping form. Iosefa brought their things and led the way. Punching in the code to open the exterior door, he used Casey’s keys to enter the apartment. Malik headed straight for her room and laid her on the bed.
She looked so peaceful, it was hard to reconcile the image with the spitfire who resisted their attempts to get close.
“She will sleep better if we remove her clothing,” Iosefa suggested. “Make her more comfortable under the blankets so she won’t get cold.”
Malik nodded, seeing the sense in his logic. It didn’t stop him from getting hard, though, when they gently stripped her of the schoolgirl attire. The two of them sat on either side of the bed, marveling at her peachy skin, the swell of her perfect breasts, and the smoothness of her shaved pussy.
Malik’s fingers itched to explore every inch of her but he didn’t want to disturb her slumber. From the expression on Iosefa’s face, he was thinking the same.
The Samoan sighed and pulled the covers to her chin. “We should go,” he said. “Before Morgan returns and we have to explain our presence. We’ll need to change into our street clothes before we return to the Citadel. It is not ideal, but we can use the coffee shop restroom.”
Malik agreed with his plan. “We’ll check on her tomorrow. We need to look for signs of transformation. Then we must find a way to tell Tobias.”
Neither of them was looking forward to informing their superior what had happened without prior permission, beginning with working at The Secret Garden Club and ending with Casey accepting their seed.
They rose, intending to leave, but as they were opening the door to the hallway, they heard Morgan letting herself into the apartment. They looked at each other, wondering what in heaven’s name they could do.
Iosefa looked across the room. “The window,” he said. “We can go out the window.”
Malik pursed his lips. “As long as no one’s around to see us, it would work.”
Not as well as they hoped. They had to strip to the waist to free their wings, make bundles of their clothes to loop around their necks, and squeeze their way outside. Once there, hovering outside Casey’s bedroom, they worked and worked to close her window tightly, but the latch that would allow them to do that was on the inside. They had to settle for almost perfectly closed, knowing that she would lock it as soon as she discovered that it wasn’t secure.
But how long would that take? She was out of it right now, rendered insensate by post-coital bliss and excessive alcohol. It could be hours before she awakened. They worried about leaving her vulnerable and unprotected.
“We need to go back,” Malik decided. “Find a way in and make sure that the window is secure.”
“We could bring the women breakfast,” Iosefa suggested. “A peace offering. Maybe she will forgive us for invading her space.”
“And going through her things and learning her secrets?” It was possible but highly unlikely. But he couldn’t say that he was sorry and mean it. If they hadn’t searched for bugs, they would not have found her box with her membership card to The Secret Garden Club. They would not have seen her fetishwear and toys and learned that she was into kink. Malik was still certain that becoming Casey’s Doms would be the only way to tame her.
“What are you two doing here?”
The familiar voice below startled them both. Quickly descending to the street level, they found Zana and Lukas watching them. They must have been shadowing Morgan.
Malik’s anxiety over the window eased in his chest. Their brothers would guard both women until Morgan left for work. Casey’s room would be secure while they watched.
“We wanted to check that all the new doors were working acceptably,” Iosefa muttered, tossing him a lame look. As excuses went, it was feeble.
Zana smirked. From the Persian’s expression, he knew they were here for the same reason they’d gone to The Secret Garden Club tonight—to see Casey.
Lukas raised a tawny brow at their leather pants and bare chests. “Dressed like that?”
Folding their wings, they undid their bundles and quickly redressed.
“We...went out,” Malik mumbled.
“Bar hopping,” Lukas guessed with a grin. “That new cowboy bar? How was it?”
“This evening was interesting,” Malik prevaricated. “Not what we expected. It ended better than we’d planned.”
Zana choked on a cough and shot them a look that demanded details as soon as they were free to speak.
For now, though, he was keeping their secrets.
Malik and Iosefa said no more.
CHAPTER TEN
Awareness came gradually to Casey. Her backside was tender from Ivan’s discipline and the mother of all hangovers was raging in her head.
And she was naked.
Christ. Her breath seized in her chest. Her eyes flew open.
Relieved to see her room, she wondered how in the hell she’d managed to get here, as sloshed as she’d been. She didn’t remember anything past drinking wine with Precious Pet and needing something stronger…
Wait a minute.
The new guys. She remembered Sir Moses and Sir Aaron coming to check on her and… and…
Nothing.
Dammit.
She remembered nothing after that.
Zip.
Nada.
Shit.
She needed to talk to Precious Pet. She’d drive herself nuts, not knowing exactly what went down.
Or who went down.
The thought conjured erotic images, and a wave of heat swept through her. She was years away from menopause but that’s what it fucking felt like. Casey thrust aside the blanket that was swaddled around her and let the cool air wash over her skin.
She needed to shower and get ready for work but the jackhammer drilling a hole through her skull was agonizing. Everything was too bright, and it felt like she’d been licking sandpaper.
Grumbling under her breath, Casey rolled onto her side, catching sight of herself in the mirror on the opposite wall. Her skin was flushed. Her wild blonde hair was a messy tangle around her face. A pair of blue eyes bright with fever peered through the strands.
Groaning, Casey felt her forehead with her palm. It was hotter than usual. Not liking where this was going, she reached for the digital thermometer in her bedside drawer. Popping it into her mouth, her suspicion was confirmed after three minutes.
She was sick.
Some kind of virus, she guessed. Probably from the diner where she’d had lunch two days ago. Dropping her head into the pillow, Casey grumbled to herself. She couldn’t afford to be away from work—not with everything that was happening with Ivan—but she couldn’t risk spreading it around her office, either.
She’d be the Ice Bitc
h and Typhoid Mary then.
Hopefully, it was a twenty-four-hour thing that would pass quickly. Plenty of fluids, painkillers, and elderberry would see her through the day.
Casey rarely called in sick, but today she had no choice. Crawling out of bed, she found some pajamas and hauled them on. She’d have to settle for a bath instead of a shower. If she passed out, she didn’t need to end up in the ER.
Morgan was banging around in the kitchen when she exited her room. The aroma of coffee and toast caused Casey’s stomach to roil with nausea. Hand flat against her solar plexus, she scurried for the hallway bathroom that she used. Locking the door behind her, she lunged for the toilet, leaning over it as she heaved a few breaths waiting to see if her stomach would settle. When it decided not to spill its contents, she trudged to the sink and grasped the porcelain sides.
Fuck, she was a mess. Her cheeks looked even more flushed now. Casey felt hot and listless. The usual go-get-‘em attitude was lacking. All she wanted to do was crash in a darkened, silent room and not move for a month.
Stripping slowly, she found the Epson salts and ran a tepid bath. She wasn’t sure how well the salts would work on her soreness without the warmth of hot water, but she needed to cool down. Tepid it was.
She stepped into it carefully. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. Talk about uncomfortable. Christ on a cracker. She was never going back to that diner again.
Casey stayed in long enough that the water temperature matched her body. How the fuck that happened, she didn’t know, but she knew it wasn’t good. Drying off, she applied arnica cream everywhere she could reach and put her pajamas back on. Her stomach had settled enough, she might actually be able to eat breakfast and keep it down.
Opening the door, she padded down the hall, headed for the kitchen. She assumed the soft conversation was from a muted TV, but she turned the corner and saw that they had company.
The fucking Cowled Crusader and Sidepiece were sitting at the kitchen table with Morgan.
Son of a bitch.
Casey hadn’t seen them in days and here they were in glorious Technicolor. She wanted to click her heels and haul her ass to Morgan’s mom in Kansas. Instead, she’d have to play nice and find a way to get them to leave sooner rather than later.
She met Malik’s hazel gaze and suppressed a snarl. He had the good sense to look nervous. He was also smart enough to come bearing gifts. Four coffee cups were on the table with a box of assorted breakfast pastries—Danishes, scones, muffins, and her favorite pudding-filled donuts sprinkled with powdered sugar.
“Ah, Casey! There you are.” Smiling, Morgan rose from her seat and grabbed her backpack and a coffee. “Malik and Iosefa were nice enough to pop in with breakfast. I can’t stay or I’m going to be late. I’m sure you guys can talk, though. Laters!”
She was out the front door before Casey could protest. Glowering after her friend, she bit back a frustrated sigh. This was not what she needed right now.
“Are you alright?” Iosefa questioned softly. “Your color is high this morning.”
“I’ve managed to pick up a virus somewhere,” she admitted grumpily, arms crossed over her chest, her body language closed.
The men shared a look between them.
Casey’s eyes narrowed. Why did it feel like they were having a silent conversation about her?
“Perhaps coffee isn’t the best thing for you then…”
“Touch my coffee and I’ll cut off your hand,” she snapped at Malik when he went to pick up the spare foam cup. They weren’t going to deny her the simple pleasure of caffeine even if she was ill.
Coffee and donuts might be just what she needed to feel human again.
Iosefa shifted in his seat, playing with the edge of his cup. “We wanted to apologize. Last night…”
“What about last night?” Moving across the kitchen, Casey took the seat on the far side of the table away from both of them. Wait. Had she seen them last night? She’d been at The Secret Garden Club. Had played with Ivan. Drunk with Precious Pet. Frowning, she tried to recall the details of getting home but everything was still a large black hole.
Malik cleared his throat awkwardly. “What happened here....”
Casey froze in the process of reaching for her drink. “What?” she snapped. “You mean when you fucking went in my room and pawed my things and slept in my fucking bed?”
By the time she finished, her blood pressure had risen enough, she could feel her arteries pulsing in her neck.
Iosefa looked concerned. “We wanted to apologize last night. You were gone. Are you all right? You look hot. Fevered,” he hastened to add.
Malik angled his head. “You look hot, too,” he said. “You always do, but you never let us speak long enough to tell you.”
They thought she looked hot? She should feel flattered. Instead, she felt pissed.
“I woke up with a fever. You should leave in case it’s contagious. Flu or a virus or something.”
Iosefa and Malik ignored her warning and exchanged a look with each other. They didn’t say a word but their eyes spoke volumes.
“Excuse me. I need to use the bathroom,” Iosefa said abruptly.
It was a lame attempt to leave her alone with Malik but what the fuck for? He thought she was hot. Big deal. They were still members of the cadre at the Citadel. She didn’t trust any of them further than she could throw a stick.
Iosefa did a Houdini and disappeared, leaving her alone with the Egyptian.
“Eat,” he said. “We brought your favorite.”
How the hell they knew it, she hadn’t a clue. Willing to set aside their differences for ten minutes, she put a pudding-filled donut on a napkin, brought it to her mouth, and took a bite.
Heaven.
Her taste buds hummed with pleasure.
“How was your evening?” Malik asked. “Did you enjoy yourself?”
Casey froze, then forced herself to finish chewing and swallow. Reaching for her cup, she curled her fingers around it and chased the bite of her donut with a sip of dark, hot coffee. “Look, I don’t remember much of last night,” she admitted tightly. “I was out... drinking with a friend.” That much was true. She just needed to find out what the hell happened after Precious Pet left her alone. “Frankly, I don’t remember getting home.”
Casey wasn’t sure why she was telling him this. They weren’t stalking her anymore. They didn’t need to know what she did with her life.
Malik was staring at her with an odd expression on his handsome face as if he couldn’t quite believe what she was saying.
Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she eyed him defensively. “What? I enjoy a drink sometimes, just not that often. It’s not a crime, you know.”
Driving under the influence was but until she got some answers, she hoped like hell she hadn’t broken that one.
Iosefa reappeared, giving them both a searching look at the sudden, tense silence.
“Sit,” she growled. “Don’t hover. I can’t stand it when people hover.” She’d had enough of it when her parents died.
Their father had been a politician. He and their artist mother had been on their way to an election-year fundraiser. A storm warning was in effect, but he hadn’t wanted to cancel. A microburst had taken them down. Their private jet crashed on a mountainside. Search and rescue found no survivors.
In the wake of tragedy, her brother Ben had been her anchor. She’d nearly drowned when she’d lost him, too.
In two more days, it would be two years since his murder. Two years of searching to find his killer and bring him to justice.
Ivan had given her the first.
Alexei Popov must still pay for his crimes.
“You need to leave,” she said tiredly, feeling her headache worsen. Analgesics should help it and her fever, too. “I’m going to take some meds and go back to bed.”
“Will you let us check on you later?” Iosefa nearly begged. The sound of him being so needy was more gratifying than it
should be.
“I’ll be fine,” she insisted, not telling him yes but not forbidding it, either. After the donuts and coffee, she wondered what their next move would be. Just how sorry were they?
Malik was still sitting.
“Go on! Out with you! Shouldn’t you be stalking Morgan or something?”
“It’s not our duty today. We’re working. Remodeling. Iosefa and I are rehabbers,” he explained. “We’re expecting company. We’re preparing a guest suite where they can stay.”
Rehabbers. Men with callused, capable hands who knew how to use them. Too bad they’d never get a chance to touch her. She’d vowed to keep her distance from the Citadel and anyone associated with it.
“That’s nice,” she snipped. I don’t care is what she meant, but the men took her at her word.
Christ on a cracker. They needed to go.
“I still have to take my meds,” she reminded them. “Come on. Vamoose. Go rehab. Whatever. Just do… whatever... away from here.”
She finally got them out of the fucking door. Flipping the deadbolts, she trudged back to the bathroom, popped some eight-hour acetaminophen tablets, and hauled her ass back to bed. Calling in sick to work, she snapped off the light and drifted into an uneasy sleep filled with dangerous dreams of a certain Bratva officer and his alter ego, Master S.
A knock on the hallway door awakened her five hours later. Throwing a death look at her clock, she willed whoever it was to go away. As far as she knew, neither of them was expecting a delivery.
They rapped again, insistent.
Jesus. She couldn’t get a break today.
Pulling on a robe, she tightened the sash, grabbed her cell phone in case she needed to report someone, and hurried to the door, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed. At least her headache had eased, her temperature felt cooler, and her breakfast had stayed down.
Looking through the peephole, she saw a dark, bearded face swathed in a red knit cowl.
They were back.
Casey pushed aside the odd little flutter in her stomach. It didn’t matter that they’d been kind enough to come to check on her.