Iverson had a knife.
No. Iverson closed in with a hard strike that Eric sidestepped. He was closer to her now. Almost close enough to touch.
Definitely close enough to help.
Her mind foggy, Caro tried to plan out her actions. She would need the rest of her strength. Through fading vision, she tracked Eric, finally anticipating his next move. Dragging every last ounce of energy from her body and lightheaded with blood loss, Caro rose to her knees, yanked out the sword from the floor and threw it to Eric, calling his name with her last breath.
Make that her second to last. Her last was spent masquing back to herself. She’d be damned if she was going to die as a dickless giant.
* * * *
Eric reacted instinctively when Caro threw the sword at him. He snatched it out of the air and took great pleasure in the look of fear that crossed Iverson’s face. Too bad he couldn’t enjoy it longer.
He ran the bastard through without a second thought, giving a slice to the right to make sure he cut through as many organs as possible.
“You…” It was all Iverson said before his eyes dimmed. Then Eric, with great satisfaction, took back his knife and slit the bastard’s throat.
Madness reigned. The galleries were in utter pandemonium, with people trying to cut through the nets. Stephan and Tom charged the ring, guns out, as Eric’s people secured the area. Michaela stood in her huge Bao Bin brawler’s masque, scanning the crowds with an enraged expression. The iron stench of spilled blood filled the air and the lines of pure white salt were now broken and stained.
In the middle of that, Caro lay unmoving, her shattered body hidden under the deflated tent of the giant’s clothing. Eric fell to his knees beside her, gathered her into his arms, and buried his face in her hair. He couldn’t even cry.
“Eric, the medics are here.” Stephan took his arm and forced him to release her. “Eric! Let them work.”
Eric nodded and stood. He glanced at Iverson’s body. “Burn that,” he said. “Burn it.”
Then he covered his face with his hands.
Chapter 39
When Caro opened her eyes, she was in a dimly lit room. It was calm and relaxing and even smelled like vanilla.
Was this heaven? If so, it surely didn’t say anything good about her life that the best thing she could imagine was to lie quietly in an empty room.
Except it wasn’t empty. There was another bed.
Eric lay still beside her.
Caro’s heart dropped. She hadn’t succeeded. They were dead. Tears welled up in her eyes and before she knew it, she was sobbing. Not surprising. It had been a shitty day.
Eric’s eyes flew open and he bounded out of bed to wrap her in his arms. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was trying to help.”
“You did help.” He sounded the way he always did.
“How? We’re dead.”
He chuckled low. “You’re not dead.” Then he frowned. “Not now, anyway.”
“So I was dead?”
“Ah…” he looked uncomfortable. “Only clinically dead. Then the medics stabilized you.”
Caro blinked. “I’m not dead?”
“Let me see.” He bent down and gave her a firm kiss that left her reeling. “Not dead at all.”
“Then what the hell happened?” She struggled to sit up in bed before little flashes of pain radiated over her body. “Jesus.”
“You need to rest.”
“I need to know what the fuck happened, is what I need,” she shouted. “Also, did you sleep with Patricia when she was me? I mean Frieda?” The multiple identities were messing her up.
Eric ran a soft finger along her lower lip. “We will talk of the important things first.”
“I think knowing how I died counts as important. Also Frieda.”
“No to Frieda. I love you.”
Her heart caught in her chest. Eric continued. “When I thought you were gone, I didn’t— I thought I’d never see you again.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “I can’t bear for you to leave me, Caro. Forgive me for what I said.”
She frowned. “What you said when?” He loved her.
“At your office. It was said in anger.”
Oh, that. She flushed. “It was a lie,” she admitted. “What I said about the story.”
“I know, but why?”
She looked away, but he pulled her back to face him with a finger under her chin. “Why?” he repeated.
Tears pricked her eyes. “You didn’t trust me,” she whispered. “It hurt, really hurt. I needed to get away. What made it worse was that you were right. I’m damaged. I’m scarred. Can’t trust people. Can’t go out at night. I can’t get over what happened. You would be happier without me.”
“Never.” The truth in his voice made her tears flow harder. “I can’t exist without you.”
He climbed onto the bed and held her gently as she wept, his voice husky in her ear. “You helped me. You got me shifting again. You threw me the blade. Damaged? You’re the sexiest, most intelligent, resourceful and beautiful woman I’ve ever known. And you make a damn good giant.”
This time when he kissed her, it was as though he was sealing a promise. Caro melted into his touch, wanting to fill up on his heat. Eric finally pulled away, panting. “The medics will kill me,” he said. “They were firm that you need time to heal.”
Caro smiled at him, her heart singing. “I told you, I heal fast.”
* * * *
Eric walked down the hall to Caro’s apartment. He didn’t like that she still lived there but she had insisted and he was quickly learning how difficult it was to say no to her.
It had been an intense few weeks. Caro’s injuries were worse than Eric had let on and she now had many more scars, ones that filled Eric with a sickening mix of guilt and wrath when he saw them. He’d offered to get a plastic surgeon, but she’d shut that down with a wave of her hand. “They’re scars on the outside,” she’d said. “Not on the inside. So deal with it.”
There had been many formal interviews with Michaela and other Council members, all noted for their archives. Eric had been vicious in tearing apart Iverson’s network and his followers had either been given a stern warning and second chance, or were languishing in detention, awaiting trial. Eric would leave the trials to the Council but had little doubt as to the verdicts. He’d also sent informants to check on some of the old lineages whose surrender and apology seemed a little forced. There could always be another Iverson somewhere.
“What about Julien?” Caro had asked. “Frieda?”
Caro’s lovely eyes had darkened as he’d given her the run down. Tom had shot both of them, seeing them go for their weapons after Iverson had appeared in the ring. Julien had died. Subsequent investigations had shown him to have had an unhealthy obsession with Caro—the walls in his apartment were covered with her photos. He must have been trailing her around the city for months. He didn’t tell Caro that part.
Frieda had been injured but had managed to escape in the chaos. Frieda had taken the gamble and lost; she was now a hunted pariah among all seven masquerada nations. Eric had no regrets.
He’d also done a little more detective work about Caro’s family. She’d been shocked when, after many apologies for invading her privacy, they’d finally discussed what was in her genetics table.
“I have royal lineage?” Caro’s eyes had widened.
“Your mother was sister to Hierarch Europa. Her name is Hilde, and as you can probably tell from the title, she rules Europe.” He’d studied her as he spoke. “We had heard rumors about a sister who had left the family, but it was never substantiated. Hilde’s clan is private, almost isolated from the rest of the masquerada population.”
“Are you kidding?”
He nodded. “I had wondered how you were able to come into my mind
. That you are of royal blood explains it. Those lineages are traditionally very strong.”
Hilde had been thrilled to discover her niece and had already started planning several months’ worth of reunion celebrations to take place in Berlin. She’d revealed the answer to the mystery of Caro’s exceptional masquing ability as well. “My sister was the strongest masquerada we’d ever had,” she’d said in an email to Eric. “It’s not surprising my niece has inherited some of the ability.”
“My mother was related to a queen?” It had seemed hard for her to accept. Her eyes narrowed. “Are you telling the truth?”
“I have never lied to you, Caro. Withheld information, yes. But no lies.”
“What is Hilde like?”
“Charming. Unpredictable. Intelligent. Selfish.”
“Sounds like a Hierarch,” she said dryly. She’d bit her lip. “Also like my mother.”
Caro had told him about Gaelle, and the regret she now had. He’d hugged her close. “This might be a fresh start,” he’d said. “For both of you.”
Caro’s ability was one of the things they talked about as she healed. They’d discussed everything from why orange macaroni and cheese was better than white cheddar, TV shows from Caro’s childhood, and how to deal with Tom. Tom had offered his resignation because of how he’d mistreated Caro, but Eric had refused it. The two now treated each other with cautious respect. They also talked about what it was like for her to leave Lynn Butler and her journalism career behind. Curious, Eric asked whether she would be Lynn again now that her secret was out. “I think I’ve grown into Caro now,” she’d said. “I think I’ll stay like this.”
Now he was coming to her apartment, ready to take her out on a date, a real one with dinner and conversation. He even had a bouquet of flowers, pretty purple blooms with petals as soft as Caro’s skin. Not carnations, though. Mai had warned him about carnations when he’d gone to her for advice. Apparently women didn’t like them.
Who knew?
He knocked on the door, noting Tom’s security with approval. “Come in,” called Caro. “I’m getting ready.”
Okay, an open door and cheery welcome to whoever knocked were definitely not part of Tom’s security training. He’d take that up with her later. Now, he pushed the door open and walked in, locking it behind him. Caro must have been writing because her laptop was open with a sheaf of notes and new notepads stacked messily on the side.
“Make yourself at home.” Caro’s voice came down the hall. “Give me one minute.”
“Our reservations are for—” Eric stuttered to a stop as Caro came into the room. Her hair was tied back in a demure bun, but tendrils escaped along her temples. A sleek plum dress outlined curves that made his mouth water and— His eyes wandered down.
“I remember those shoes,” he croaked. He threw the flowers onto the couch. Caro’s lips opened but before she could speak, he leaned in and claimed her, his mouth a perfect fit for hers. Silently, he lifted her up and took her to the bedroom.
“Everything off. Except for the shoes.”
“You first.” Always challenging him. Was that why he adored her?
“With pleasure.” In seconds he was nude in front of her, his arousal already evident. She eyed him with satisfaction, then took a step closer.
“Now, you strip me,” she ordered.
First, he kissed her, feeling shocks of pleasure as her hands roamed his chest and shoulders. Her touch was light but left a trail of fire. Then, he turned her around and slowly pulled down the zipper of her dress. When her body appeared he felt like it was Christmas.
She wasn’t wearing a bra. Or panties.
Eric thought he was going to lose his mind. Dragging the dress off her shoulders, he let it pool around her feet. She stepped out of it delicately, still in those fantastically erotic shoes. Eric took his time kissing the fine skin on the back of her neck as his hands traced around to the front of her body.
By the time his fingers captured her breasts, she was rubbing her ass against him. The extra height from the heels meant that his cock could slide right in the cleft of her ass and he luxuriated in the sensation. He teased her nipples, feeling them harden under his fingers. Caro’s head was thrown back now and he licked the side of her throat, then let his tongue play its way down her back.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered huskily.
She obeyed instantly. As he knelt to kiss the crease where her thighs met her ass, his hands came up the inside of her legs. The heat from her almost burned him and he groaned in desire.
With one hand he began a slow stroke of her core, while the other dipped a finger into her silky wetness. Caro’s knees nearly buckled and she leaned back against him, breathing hard. He loved how she responded to his touch.
Eric stood abruptly and pulled her down and onto the bed, spreading her thighs wide. Then he gazed down at her, loving the sheer and utter sexiness of her lying there, wet and aroused. Caro’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes glazed over. Did she have any idea of the power she had over him? He slid one finger into her, then two. At the same time, he bent and tasted her; that sweet nectar that almost undid him. She arched beneath him, then cried out again as his mouth slid over her core and sucked hard. He felt her contract around his fingers, and she stopped breathing as her orgasm swept through her. God, it was incredible to make her come. He could do this all night.
“Come here.” Desire made Caro’s voice husky and she dragged Eric up until his cock was rubbing between her legs.
He didn’t say a word, just plunged into her. She moaned beneath him as he thrust deep, and moved so he could penetrate her even further. He began slow thrusts but she begged him wordlessly with scratching fingers and soft sounds to go faster, harder. Lifting her thighs up and out, he opened her still wider as she writhed under him. As he pounded into her, pleasure swirled through him like a whirlwind. Then, when he thought it couldn’t get any better, she fought against his grip to wrap her legs around his waist and dig the sharp tips of her high heels into his flesh.
That did it. He shouted her name before collapsing against her warm body, his face buried in her throat. For a while, he lay there feeling her heartbeat and her soft breath on his shoulder.
Then he raised up and kissed her above her flushed breast, feeling her shiver. “God, I love those shoes,” he said.
* * * *
It was about two hours later when Caro finally pulled the pretty plum dress back on. Her hair was a mess and she didn’t bother pulling it back into the bun. Had it been the second or the third time that Eric had removed the pins and let it fall around her shoulders? She couldn’t remember. It was all a blur.
Eric was already dressed and lounging on the chair, watching her. She looked at him admiringly. There was a content expression on his handsome face as he rolled up the sleeves on his blue shirt. Blue suited him, she thought. Then he flickered and turned into a blond version of himself, then a woman with high cheekbones and a gorgeous wide mouth. “What do you think?” he asked. “Interested?”
Heat rose in her belly. “One day.” She smiled. “For now, I want you.”
He shifted back to Eric and came across the room to help with her zipper. “What are you working on out there on your laptop?” he asked as he drew up the zipper, leaving a small kiss at the nape of her neck.
“A book,” she said, thinking of her project with a thrill. “I was going to tell you over dinner. The Council asked me to write a history of the masquerada nation in America. No editorial interference. Great budget.”
Eric spun her around and kissed her. “You’re amazing, do you know that?”
“I do, but I like to hear it.” She grabbed a light sweater. “Are you ready for dinner? We’re a little late but they might still have a table.”
“It’s dark out,” Eric said with concern.
“I know.” She smiled and held
out her hand before taking a deep breath. “I think it will be fine.”
Then, together, they went out the door to face the soft velvety dark.
MASKED DESIRE
Keep reading for a sneak peek at the next book in the Masked Arcana series!
Coming soon from Alana Delacroix and Lyrical Press
Chapter 1
Michaela Chui lifted the lid to her white and blue glazed teapot and poured in the water with deliberate care. Morning tea was a ritual she’d observed for as long as she could remember and it never failed to fill her with a sense of calm.
Sometimes, though, the calm was illusory and she knew it. For the last six months, Michaela had lived with an ever-increasing sense of doom. No surprise considering what was happening. The masquerada were in the final stages of mopping up what had been a nasty insurrection of chauvinists and bigots led by Frank Iverson. It was a big job and the Hierarch, Eric Kelton, had asked her to oversee it.
The death threats had been irritating but expected.
She glanced at her watch. Soon she’d need to leave for a meeting with her mentor, the vampire Madden. More secrets. But while being a shape-shifting masquerada in a human world was a secret she shared with many, including her closest friends, her role on the Pharos Council could be shared with no one. Charged with keeping the arcane world hidden from that of the humans, the Pharos walked unknown among their compatriots and ensured all followed the Law.
The tea was perfect now and she stood at the window to enjoy it, relishing the familiar action. Her friend Caro Yeats, Eric’s consort, nagged her about her painful lack of spontaneity, but Caro was young. The thought wasn’t catty or malicious; Michaela admired Caro and her strength. However, she knew that living in the moment wasn’t a trait she herself had. Centuries of watching the world’s many casual cruelties had formed her into a woman with little give or softness.
It was how she stayed safe.
Time to go. Her route took her south through the downtown core, a cold jungle of bank headquarters and fast food restaurants, to a small heritage building that had been partially incorporated into a skyscraper. Even in temporary headquarters, Pharos members demanded elegant and old-fashioned surroundings.
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