by Sonya Clark
Giving in seemed easier, so he said, “Nate Perez married his witch.”
Her brows came together in confusion. “They can’t get married. Not legally.”
“No, not legally.” Briefly, he explained about handfasting as they went up the stairs. As for Nate’s status, he decided to let her draw her own conclusions. “It was a nice ceremony. I don’t get Calla’s thing for purple, but whatever.”
“You were there?”
“I’ve known her since she was a kid. He’s a friend now too.” They reached the bedroom. Vadim took her hand and propelled her through the doorway, around him in a half circle, and to the bed, where she dropped in a fluff of pillows and blankets.
“What are they going to do if the ordinance—”
“Ah, fuck the ordinance. I don’t want to talk about the damned ordinance.” He joined her on the bed, stretching out beside her on his stomach with his head propped on one hand. “In fact, I can’t think of a single thing I want to talk about.”
“I have no shortage of things for us to discuss, starting with this plan you’ve got for the GSS holiday party.”
Her blouse gaped open between the top two buttons, revealing a tantalizing bit of black lace and pale skin. “Tell you what.” He shifted to cover her with his body, pressing her into the soft covers, her hair fanned out underneath her. “You can talk about whatever you like, as long as you can say it around a mouthful of cock.”
Laughing, she tried to shove him away. “Pervert.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He tried to get her wrists in his hands but she wrestled against him. “Like you’re not one too.” Giving up on restraining her, he worked on dragging her skirt up.
Lizzie slapped his hand away then stuck her finger in his face. “Work first. We need to go over this.”
“We will.” He captured her finger with his mouth, sucking the tip. “I just think we should do other things first.”
“I’m always up for another magic lesson.” Her mouth curved into a smile.
He settled himself more comfortably atop her, forearms resting on either side of her head. “There’s this truly special bit of magic.” He lowered his head to whisper in her ear. “It’s called a blow job.”
Nose scrunching adorably, she giggled. “What is with you tonight?”
“I’m a man with needs, Lizzie.” He guided her hand to his erection, unable to stop the sound that escaped his throat when she grasped him through his pants.
“Need is a strong word.” She made quick work of his belt and zipper, sliding her hand past his clothes to wrap around the shaft of his cock. “It implies something you can’t do without.”
Sooner or later, surely they would tire of each other. This volcanic desire would cool to something manageable, then fade completely. Memories of a brief but consuming passion would be all that was left when they could no longer see each other, on opposite sides of the law and a guarded fence. No promises, no declarations. He hacked away at the messy, jumbled emotion welling inside and reached for clean, simple lust.
“You know what I’ve never understood?” He angled his body deeper against hers, nuzzling her neck.
She made a questioning noise as she raised her leg to drape it over his.
“Why is it called a blow job? I mean, why would you want somebody to blow on your dick? The sucking is the whole point of it, so why—”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up.” Laughter like cool, fresh water rippled out of her as she slapped at him playfully.
He made a grab for her wrists, catching a light slap on the forehead as he maneuvered her fully underneath him with her hands trapped in his above her head. “I think it’s a perfectly valid question.”
“What is with you tonight? You’re practically giddy.”
“I am never giddy,” he corrected. “I am merely in a good mood. Also very horny, so how’s about you shut up and we make with the sex having.”
He caught her lips with his before she could speak or start laughing again. Of all the delightful things they’d done together, none seemed as intimate as a kiss. She surrendered her mouth to his demands and her body followed, her subtle curves molding to him as she arched her back. He slowed down to take his time, exploring her lips and tongue with his own. She tasted of wine and spring storms that made him think of natural magic.
The overhead light went out, replaced by dark blue witchlight. Music issued from the stereo panel, a slow trancelike rhythm at the perfect volume. “You’ve been practicing,” he whispered.
“I thought we weren’t going to talk anymore.” Her voice was husky with desire.
“Mmm.” He untangled her skirt from his legs and slid his hand up her thigh. “Thanks for the reminder.”
In between slow, sensual kisses he somehow managed to get them both undressed without leaving the bed or each other’s arms. It was the condom that did him in. He had to sit up and lean over to the nightstand to retrieve one, quickly ripping the package open. When he turned back she was sitting on her knees. He paused at the sight of her. She had the pale skin and light smattering of freckles that marked her as a true redhead. Breasts tipped with perfect cherry nipples. She met his gaze and sat with her hands on the outside of her parted thighs, as unashamed of her womanhood as she was of her own desire.
That she could own herself in moments like this, here with him, but still be so terrified of truly claiming the magic in her blood both confused and frustrated him. Now was not the time for that though.
He sheathed himself with the condom and reached for her. She came into his arms with a fierceness that thrilled him, marking him with lips and teeth and tongue. The emotion he’d tried to suppress earlier came roaring back.
No promises. No declarations. Just consuming passion that would burn itself out. That had to burn itself out.
Lizzie wrapped her long legs around him and held herself above his cock for a brief moment, eyes locked on his, before lowering herself onto him. Heat surrounded him and exploded through his veins. For a long time there was nothing but the feel of her body and the sound of her cries and his own rough breathing. That unwelcome tide of emotion tipped over inside him and he knew he was in danger of losing all control. He slid a hand between them, caressing her into an orgasm. The walls of her body contracted around him, tight and hot and wickedly delicious. He let go just enough to give his body the release it needed, but he held on to that last bit of restraint that kept him from taking things too far. He could trust her with so many secrets, about the tunnels, the railroad, his own unique type of magic. The secret she most had a right to know, however, was one he couldn’t share.
For the first time in his life, he was in love, but he couldn’t tell her. Not knowing he had to walk away.
Chapter Twenty-One
Vadim huddled into his coat against the winter bite in the air. Electric light filled the bazaar with the pop and whirr of energy few could feel. Shoppers thronged the open-air market, full of holiday excitement and saved-up spending money. He waited in an area with mostly Magic Born artisans. Their tables were full of handcrafted pottery and jewelry, paintings, clothing, woodwork and other things. They had no shortage of Normal customers either. Some of the most well-off people in FreakTown made their living here in the bazaar. Nearly all of them were generous as well, helping the elderly and the zone school and orphanage. They were still poor, even compared to their Rockenbach neighbors, but it made for a better life than some in the zone.
Only fifteen when his mother died of cancer, Vadim should have been sent to live in the orphanage. Instead he starting working as a drug mule, delivering nightshade from FreakTown to dens in Riverside for the biggest dealer in the zone at the time. She’d been something of a motherly substitute for him. It was from her that he’d picked up the habit of collecting stray kids and putting them to work. But sh
e was old, even older than his mother had been, and looking for a successor. Vadim fit the bill nicely. She liked him too, fond of his smart mouth and penchant for trouble. His rise to the top of the food chain was swift and heady, but he committed the cardinal sin of a dealer. He got hooked on more than the money.
The railroad saved his life back then, giving him something to believe in that was stronger than any drug. After he cleaned up, Sinsuality let him keep one foot in the night side of FreakTown while providing both cover and money for the underground. He kept as far away from the trade as he could, but not because of temptation to return to it. No, he just didn’t want anyone thinking he wanted back in and needed to be discouraged. Violently.
That was one thing he’d never had a taste for.
Unlike the idiot he had his eye on now, who had a reputation for fighting over something as small as a raised eyebrow. The security staff had to throw him out of Sinsuality on a regular basis. The guy wasn’t too bright either. He didn’t bother to keep his voice down or be subtle about the exchange as he dealt with two Normals who looked as if they were slumming it out of Midtown.
Vadim shook his head and looked away. None of his business. He had his own illegal activity to worry about. He checked his cell for the time, worried about Tuyet being late. They had a window they had to make or Lizzie might not be able to get him where he needed to be in the building. He busied himself with standing in line at a food truck for yakitori and a beer.
Right on time, Tuyet strode by, eyes straight ahead. Vadim counted to thirty and followed, keeping a close watch on her dark hair and red faux-leather jacket in the crowd. He finished his food and dropped the trash in a bin. A raptor roared out of it, jaws snapping. He jumped, then laughed at the spell. When he was a kid, the popular trash can spell had been rocks enchanted with the image of a psychotic clown, spelled to pop out and laugh manically. They’d only done it in the zone though.
Tuyet led him to a busy spot near the entrance closest to the train station that would take them into Central City. She ducked into a small tent advertising half-hour blocks on gaming consoles. He followed, finding her behind a cloth partition. She had one finger raised to her lips. He nodded, waiting.
She took a small phone out of her pocket and used the touch screen to call up an app. A surge of magical energy enveloped the space around them. He recognized the privacy spell meant to muffle their voices and shield them from electronic surveillance. Her phone didn’t have the power to keep it going for long, but it would be just enough time.
“Did you get everything?” Even with the spell in place, he kept his voice low out of instinct.
Tuyet nodded. “I’ll be on the roof. Just get the box to me and I’ll take it from there.”
“Did you bring the little whatsit thingy?”
Scorn flashed across her face, quickly subsumed by her usual guarded expression. “This is an invaluable, irreplaceable piece of highly specialized equipment.”
Vadim decided not to laugh, since he was pretty sure she could kick his ass. “So let’s see it. Tell me how it works.”
“The badges are in a secured room with sound and visual surveillance. There’s also a sensor designed to detect magic, whether it’s glamours or anything else. That’s what you ran into at the Beckwith home when you got shot.”
“Something I’d really like to avoid repeating.”
“The device will get you around that sensor. Then you can trancehack the security panel to deal with the rest.”
They’d gone over that part of the plan. It was this device she’d been cagey about.
He held out his hand. “Come on, already. Give up the goods.”
Her mouth in a tight line, she withdrew a man’s wristwatch from her pocket. The band was crafted of black metal links that shone in the dim light. The face had a scrolling touch screen. She tapped through the menu quickly. “Time, weather, GPS, all your standard apps. This is the one you want.” She held it up so he could read it.
“Dictionary?”
“It’s called a spell-check override.”
For that, he would take the ass kicking. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” He laughed, the sound echoing in the invisible chamber of the privacy spell.
“It makes perfect sense if you think about it,” she said, a defensive edge to her voice.
Vadim’s laughter devolved into giggles. “Right, yes, of course. I’m just surprised to learn the people developing all this supersecret and scary magic tech are virgins, that’s all.” Another ludicrous giggle slipped out.
Tuyet flipped the watch over and pressed a tiny button on the side. “Yeah, because it’s so much dorkier than sending Christmas lawn ornaments parading down the street.” She grabbed his hand, pressing the back of the watch against the tip of his forefinger.
A stinging jab in the tender flesh close to the nail made him cry out. “Fuck, that hurt.” He yanked his hand back to examine the assaulted finger. A bright-red drop of blood welled at the tip. “What was that for?”
“For being a smart-ass. And to align the watch with your energy. You’re the only one that can use it until you bring it back to me—which you will do, in pristine condition—and I recalibrate it.”
“Fine. Give it to me.” He stuck his throbbing finger in his mouth and held out his other hand.
She stared at the watch. “It’s the only thing I have left.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve seen that nunnery you live in, you’ve got all kinds of weapons and gadgets.”
“It’s the only thing I’ve got left like this.” Brows knitted together, she handed over the watch. “Don’t lose it. Please.”
An unaccustomed wobble in her voice convinced him to refrain from teasing. “I’ll take good care of it.” He took the watch and slipped it into the inside pocket of his coat. “See you on the roof.”
“Be careful.”
He nodded and left the tent. A few steps later he had to jump out of the way as a witchlight motorcycle screamed through the crowded path, bike and rider both glittering like a multicolored mirrorball. Shouts of “Silver Wheels” added to the growling din created by the enchantment as it sped away. Vadim had never played the game but he knew it was especially popular with the Magic Born kids who frequented the arcade.
And now Normal kids were cheering an appearance of the game’s main character that was courtesy of magic. What other spells and enchantments were running loose in the bazaar? In other parts of the city?
Vadim would have liked to take a walk around and see for himself, but he had crime to commit.
* * *
Galvan Security Systems was headquartered in a Central City skyscraper. Streetlights, Christmas decorations and media flashbulbs glinted off the chrome-and-glass structure. Lizzie exited a cab and walked the gauntlet to the entrance. For nearly two decades one of the biggest holiday parties in town, the GSS gathering was something invitees arranged their holiday schedules around. Business leaders, politicians, socialites, local celebrities—everyone who was anyone in New Corinth received an invitation and took utmost advantage of it. Deals were made. Campaign funds were lobbied for.
Of particular interest to Lizzie were the rumored private rooms on the floor above the party, supposedly used for the kinds of meetings partygoers didn’t want to make the next news cycle. This wasn’t her first year attending the gala but it would be her first to take advantage of the upper floor.
She ignored the catcalls from photographers to remove her long coat and swept through the large glass double doors. Plenty of the attendees enjoyed that sort of attention but she had no stomach for it right now. At the first security checkpoint she produced her invitation for inspection. The guard ran it through a scanner, a green light announcing its legitimacy. A concierge directed her to the VIP elevator.
The next security checkpoin
t was tastefully disguised as a coat check. A guard helped her out of her coat, which was then passed through sensors hidden underneath a poinsettia arch. With a nod from the guard, Lizzie walked through the arch. She held her breath, afraid of the possibility of something designed to detect magical energy. Some light somewhere must have turned green because the door opened, revealing the ballroom.
The official event photographer met her eyes. Lizzie nodded, summoning her best public smile. She knew she looked good. Her long hair was swept in an updo, displaying her fine bone structure and full lips. A black strapless gown with a fitted bodice and mermaid skirt showed off her figure to perfection. Heels took her to over six feet tall. She worked every ounce of attitude, both real and fake, to create a facade no one would be foolish enough to try to get past.
As she stepped into the room, she could feel her act succeeding. Eyes followed her progress but no one approached. Good. This night would be difficult enough without drunken small talk. She made her way across the crowded ballroom to the floor-to-ceiling windows opposite the entrance. Central City glittered in the night, canyons of chrome, glass and light. Buildings blocked the view from this vantage point but she knew where the zone was located. By now, Vadim would have already left, on his way downtown.
It was hard to imagine a circumstance where they could walk down the street together without raising eyebrows, but it made for a nice fantasy for a brief moment.
Michael Carger’s reflection in the glass brought an end to her daydreaming.
“Happy holidays, Lizzie.” He offered her a champagne flute. “I’m glad you came.”
She ignored the drink. “It was my understanding I didn’t have a choice.”
“I had hoped you’d see the positives in this for you.”
Lizzie stepped closer, pitching her voice low. “If you hate the Magic Born so much, why blackmail me? Why not turn me in?”
“I’m surprised you haven’t figured that out for yourself.” He sipped the champagne, glancing past her for a moment to the view. “Control is a very important aspect to what we’re doing. To how we accomplish our aims. It’s important to have people that agree with us but it can be tremendously effective to have people working for us that feel a greater motivation.”