Taming the Demon
Page 22
Devin grinned, and Ajay—not a man of much color to begin with—paled, but for harsh red spots on his cheeks from the outdoor cold. “Nat,” he said, and stopped to swallow visibly. “Nat, you might say something.”
She moved up closer to Devin; she found her hand slipping into the pocket that held Baitlia. “What do you want me to say, Ajay? You want me to stop them from playing with you? I think you deserve that. You want me to stop them from killing you?” Her voice grew harder; her eyes narrowed. “You almost killed Enrique. You almost killed the man I love. And why—because you thought there was some faint chance that you could still come out of all this, all these many years later, with one of those blades? What exactly do you want me to say?”
His lips thinned. “You loved me once. We had a good thing, once. That oughta be worth something.”
Natalie stiffened; Devin glanced back at her. To her surprise, his glower had changed to something of grim satisfaction. She gripped the back of his vest. “No, Ajay. We didn’t.” Was it her imagination, or had Devin leaned back ever so slightly into her touch? Subtle support. “You had a good thing once. I grew out of it, and now I know I’m better than anything you ever offered me.”
The conviction in her voice startled Ajay—widened eyes, and that unpleasant expression he got when things weren’t going his way.
It was Devin who added, so casually, “You wouldn’t be looking for this, would you?” as he guided Natalie’s hand out of her pocket—there, where Baitlia sat—first the little palm-sized Spanish skinning blade it liked so much—and then, under Ajay’s scrutiny, shedding its snug, minimal sheath to flare bright blue-white, singeing hot metal flowing to the Brazilian knife it also favored.
Ajay cursed...but his gaze stayed riveted. Not horrified, not frightened...
Lusting.
“Kinda gets you, doesn’t it?” Devin said. “All the years you’ve waited, all the trouble you’ve gone to...even the way you used Natalie back then. Or thought you were using her, you dumbass. She never had anything going with my brother—never even knew him. Hanging out with people who hang out with each other...not even close.” He tipped Natalie’s blade; light stroked along the glimmering Damascus steel. “Now she has one.”
“Son of a bitch,” Ajay muttered.
“No, seriously,” Natalie said. “I think dumbass is closer to the truth. Maybe even double dumbass.”
And there was Anheriel in Devin’s hand, the agate handle polished bright, the metal reflecting sharply. “By the way, Ajay,” he said, so gently, “the third blade—” The one left bereft of bonding at Compton’s death, never part of the action at all— “Don’t come looking for it.”
And Ajay, his lust fading visibly into defeat, had said, “But...we’re good. You’re not going to let me walk away now and mess me up later?”
“We’re good,” Devin had observed—in total command of the blade, now. In total command of himself. “You pretty much suck. But go suck on your own time.”
Natalie hadn’t been able to help it—the twitch of a smile.
Ajay had taken a step back; Devin had taken a step forward. “Maybe you might want to move on out of this area anyway. Just for your own sake. Because, dude—check it out. What’s this city got to offer you now? Except maybe the constant reminder that Natalie has what you always wanted...and I’ve got her.”
Natalie smiled, there at Devin’s kitchen bar, her eyes closed and her mind’s eye leaving memory to replace it with now, here.
So many things left to sort out. Details about the estate...details about the knives, about how she and Devin would move forward from here. Some of it was obvious—the research, the need to understand what the knives were—where they came from, whether they could be controlled without completely succumbing to the dark path Compton had taken, whether Natalie’s methods would keep their souls intact after all.
Not to mention that Compton had chronicled visits to three countries. Started humanitarian projects in three countries, establishing his philanthropy even as he sought the power that made him a danger to all. His cover. And in that private study, they’d found hand-crafted mounts for three blades.
But Compton had had only two.
So many things left to sort out.
For now, it was enough to know that they had lived through the previous days; they were healing—together. They would learn—together. They would get through this—together.
Their choice.
Natalie gathered the papers and padded quietly past the back of the couch, returning them to the little table by the door. She thought she’d do some yoga stretching...maybe some of the Tai Chi he’d begun to teach her.
Quiet activities, done quietly. Healing, focusing.
Except as she padded back past the couch, his arm snaked up, snagged her—and just that fast, dragged her over the back of it to slide down on him—a shriek of surprise, a laugh of delight, limbs already tangling. “I thought you were asleep!”
“Big mistake,” he said, inhaling deeply of the hair behind her ear and tickling her mightily in the process.
“Or incredibly clever ploy,” she shot back at him, her hand slipping unerringly down the flat of his belly and under his belt.
“Wuh...” he said, quite obviously forgetting how to breathe, his hands closing around her arm, her waist—and then gone demanding, one hand down her pants to knead her bottom. He pulled her close, pushing up against her as the other found its way up under her sweater.
Natalie laughed, stroking him; his head tipped back, his eyes closed. She soaked in his groan through the sudden skin-on-skin contact, belly to belly, chest to chest. Here, then, was another sort of focusing activity.
And she didn’t think it would be quiet at all.
* * * * *
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