Naughty Karma kc-7

by Vivi Andrews

  Karma cursed and lunged for her phone. She called the Feds, the Atlantic City PD, and would have called the National Guard if she’d had their number, and then she could do nothing but wait, pace and try to throw her brain open to another vision, one that would hopefully tell her what the hell was happening in that hotel room two hundred miles away.

  She’d been blocking the visions all day. After the drag-you-under-and-pummel-you drowning visions that had plagued her the last few days and stalked her consciousness all morning, all she’d wanted was a few hours of clear, calm thinking with no interruptions. She’d felt a few little nuisance nudges, but nothing to indicate mortal peril. Not that she always had warning. The trouble with free will was that it spawned a thousand possible futures and some of them never let her know they were coming.

  But this one had. This one had been raising its hand and waiting to be called on all afternoon. She’d selfishly ignored it—she’d just needed a break—and it might have hurt Ciara, might have cost her finder her life after all. Four years of never getting a single worrisome twinge about Ciara and now every vision was of the petite finder in peril. Karma did not approve of this new handler’s influence.

  When the phone call came, Karma’s double awareness shivered through her and she knew. Knew the police and feds had been too late, but that Ciara and her handler—Nate, need to know his name, they’re in love now—had saved the day themselves. And recovered the priceless necklace they’d been sent to find. With no help from Karma or anyone else.

  Karma thanked the officer on the line and set the phone carefully back in the cradle, as if gentleness there could keep her own fragile parts from shattering.

  Selfish. There was no other word for it. She’d been blocking her abilities, hiding from them, because she was scared of them, scared they would take her over, but in doing so, how many of her people had she hurt? Could she have unblocked Ciara years ago? Could she have saved Ronna from having to defend herself against a knife-wielding contract killer? If she had been open to her abilities, if she had actually known how to use them, how much good could she have done?

  Karma hated the visions, had always hated them, from the moment they first crashed into her brain as a child, but was that hatred selfish? How could she claim to be fighting on the side of the angels if she wasn’t willing to take a little personal hardship for the greater good?

  She pulled up her schedule for tomorrow. The Gray Knight at ten o’clock. Prometheus.

  He’d offered to teach her. Had he been serious? She could never tell. But if he could help her, like he had today—no, not like he did today. No kissing.

  She would need ground rules. If she let him teach her how to use her powers. Absolutely no touching. No kisses. No feather-light brushes along her neck. No crowding into her space with that you-know-how-good-I’ll-be temptation in his black eyes. Her knees would not go weak. They would remain on professional footing and once he’d taught her how to control her psychic impulses, rather than repress them, her people would find his heart and he would be on his merry way. He didn’t want her; he wanted what she could do for him. No risk of attachment there.

  Karma nodded, decision made. She would speak to Rodriguez in the morning, confirm that the exorcist didn’t have any misgivings after dealing with Prometheus, then make a new business arrangement with the Gray Knight at ten o’clock.

  And perhaps tomorrow she would get a full night’s sleep, uninterrupted by unwanted visions.

  Her eyes and body aching with exhaustion, Karma made her way to her meditation corner, knelt and went through the ritual to clear her head, establish control and block the visions for as long as the barriers held. There had to be a better way. Hopefully tomorrow she would learn it.

  “He apologized to Brittany and fixed my sister’s car—it’s never run so well. Not even when it was new. Adela thinks he may have replaced the fuel injection system and she loves the new color.”

  “He changed the color?”

  “Snapped his fingers and there was a shiny new paint job. Never seen anything like it. Then we go up to Sutherland and he put a curse on the frat boy who’d been summoning nymphs into coeds and banished a roomful of nymphs with a wave of his hand. He’s fucking powerful, Karma.”

  “I know. But do you trust him?”

  Rodriguez hesitated a long time, longer than she would have expected, given his history with Prometheus. “No. Probably not,” he finally admitted.

  And there was the catch. Neither did she. But he was still the best option. There weren’t a lot of genuine magic users out there who were capable of training her—let alone who needed her goodwill for their own survival. As long as he needed her, she might be able to trust him. Within limits. “Thanks, Rodriguez.”

  “No problema, boss.”

  Karma hung up the phone. It was an older model, pulled out of storage to replace the one they’d short circuited yesterday with the pyrotechnics to save Ciara. Karma had spoken to her finder this morning. She was fine, better than fine. She sounded happier than Karma had ever heard her. Alive—and not only in the thank-God-she’s-not-dead sense, but with a vibrancy that had always been missing. Joy.

  A tiny jab of jealousy spiked down into Karma’s heart. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt joy. Happiness, sure. She was happy all the time. Happy for her brother at his wedding. Happy for all her consultants who were jumping on the love train. Happy for the continued success of the business. But joy? She lined a pen up at a perfect parallel to the edge of the desk. Was joy really necessary? The extremes were dangerous. The extremes were where control was forfeit and Karma needed control. That was the entire point behind the possible sessions with Prometheus—to refine her control. Teach her better control. To improve her grip on her abilities. Not to set them free, no matter what the chaos master thought. She would be very clear about their objectives.

  He’d already seen her without control yesterday—which still mortified her to recall. No one had seen her so unhinged, except perhaps her brother. Karma didn’t lose her cool. And it wouldn’t be happening again.

  She ran her hands over the smooth, dark expanse of her desk. She was in control here. She was the boss.

  So why these butterflies deep in her stomach? Why this breathless little hitch of anticipation?

  The intercom buzzed. “Prometheus to see you, Karma.”

  Karma wet her lips, one hand going automatically to her hair before she forced it down. “Send him in.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Negotiations and Other Foreplay

  “I need your help.”

  A tactful man would nod graciously, acknowledging how difficult it was for Karma to say those words to him. A wise man would keep his mouth shut, being smart enough to quit while he was ahead. But fuck it, wisdom and tact had never been part of his playbook. Prometheus flashed his teeth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Give it to me one more time. Nice and slow.”

  Finely drawn brows lowered sharply. “May I remind you that you still need my goodwill, Prometheus?”

  “You may, but you can’t blame me for enjoying the fact that now you need something from me too.”

  “Need might be putting it a little strongly. Let’s just say I would appreciate your assistance.”

  He rocked back in his chair, tipping it onto two legs. “Far be it from me to interfere with your appreciation of me.”

  “Can we have a serious conversation about this or are you going to be picking apart every word I say?”

  “Can’t we do both?” When she glowered, he held up his hands in defense. “Fine. Have it your way. We’ll be serious. So what is it you seriously need my help with?”

  Karma took a breath and a moment to collect her thoughts. She sat regally behind her desk, perfectly manicured hands laced on its surface, every hair in place. She was Ms. Poise again, a far cry from the frantic desperation of yesterday. He liked her like this. She was so much more fun to push when she had the presence of mind t
o push back.

  “Yesterday,” she said, as if the word left a questionable aftertaste on her tongue, “you helped me access my abilities and unblock one of my consultants, possibly saving her life.”

  “And I enjoyed every second of it. Let me know if I can help you unblock any other inhibitions you might be harboring.”

  “That’s what I’d like to talk to you about, actually. I’ve come to the conclusion that my unwillingness to use my abilities to their fullest potential might be negatively impacting my employees. Therefore I would like to take you up on your offer to assist me in accessing them.”

  Prometheus felt himself smiling and had to stop himself from rubbing his hands together like Dr. Evil. He was finally going to get his hands on Karma—metaphorically speaking—and all that delicious, repressed power. Not only was the idea beyond tantalizing, it also meant she would be able to control her abilities when the time came to free him from Deuma. And if he could ingratiate himself to her in the process… “When do we start?”

  “As soon as we’ve established a few ground rules.”

  He should’ve known she’d try to suck the fun out of it with rules and regulations. “That isn’t how this is going to work. If I’m the teacher, that means I get to set the rules and I say no rules.”

  “Then we won’t call them rules.”

  “This isn’t a semantic issue. Magic doesn’t fall into neat little categories. If you want to learn how to play with this toy of yours, we need some room to maneuver. I can’t constantly be worrying about not stepping over some invisible line. It’s more an art than a science.”

  “Even artists obey the laws of physics.”

  “To Dali, gravity was nothing more than an idea to play with. We don’t do laws.”

  “Then how about boundaries? Such as I won’t be asked to do anything illegal or unethical.”

  “Ethics are so subjective. One woman’s unethical is another man’s entertainment.”

  She ignored his editorializing, pressing on as if he hadn’t spoken. “And I think we should establish up front that there won’t be any more physical contact.”

  “Not even a high five?”

  “Prometheus.”

  “Oh. You mean no sex. What if it was just casual sex?”

  Her lips pursed repressively. “I only do serious sex.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” He swept a look from her tidy bun to the polish on her shoes. She probably had very dignified orgasms. “No wonder you’re so tense.”

  “Trust a man to think all a woman’s problems can be solved with his penis.”

  “Not all your problems, maybe, but I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

  “No. Thank you.”

  She didn’t move a muscle. There was no hint of a blush. If he hadn’t been able to see the agitation of her aura, the tinges of lustful reds, he never would have known that he got under Karma’s skin. But luckily aura reading was one of his many skills and Karma was much more interested than she cared to let on. He wanted to touch that aura, to wrap it around him until they bled into each other. There was such power in her and she didn’t even know it. Or if she knew it, she wished she didn’t. This was a woman with incredible powers of self-denial. But she was polite. No, thank you.

  Prometheus had never seen the point of politeness.

  “I won’t agree to no sex or no unethical behavior, but I’ll try to keep things legal. Good enough?”

  She tapped one blood-red nail, ignoring his question. “How long will this training take?”

  “Don’t rush a miracle man. You get lousy miracles.”

  “I need to know how much time to allot to this in my schedule.”

  “Why don’t we do it after hours? I can get back to my shop; you can do your consultant thing.” And he got her alone at night. “Everybody wins.”

  “I still need to know how much time.”

  “Please tell me you don’t schedule every waking minute of your day.”

  She simply looked at him. Of course she did.

  “Fine, you want an answer? Honestly, I have no idea how long it’s going to take. It’s not like I make a habit of un-repressing people with stopped-up psychic gifts. And even if I did, for all I know you might be the most repressed case yet, or some kind of psychic prodigy who gets it on the first try. You’re just going to have to go with it and see what happens.”

  “I don’t like playing things by ear.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me, but I don’t see any other way to play it. If you want to play with me.”

  “I’ll work with you. Can you start tonight? Seven?”

  “It’s a date.”

  She nodded and picked up a pen, making a note—probably writing him into her agenda. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  He let her dismiss him, straightening out of his chair and offering her a bow, before turning and strolling toward the door, tossing one last dig over his shoulder as he went. “By the way, sweetheart, I can see your energy change every time we talk about sex. We both know you wouldn’t be so reluctant to talk about it if you weren’t so interested.”

  He didn’t wait to see her blush.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Relaxation for Beginners

  He was late.

  Karma glared at the clock, mentally cursing Prometheus for every second of the six minutes he’d made her wait so far. It was such an obvious power play. Such a cheap ploy to prove he was the one setting the rules, establishing the schedule.

  She went through her mental exercises one more time, clearing her head even though she couldn’t clear her emotions. She wasn’t used to walking into situations blind, but she hadn’t known how to prepare for her first lesson in being psychic.

  Why had she thought this was a good idea? She didn’t trust him, didn’t like his methods and didn’t particularly want to spend any more time with the man who made her feel…unhinged. He challenged her in a way no one else ever had, but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. How could he be a good choice to teach her to use her abilities? He had no moral compass. And he was late. Eight minutes and counting.

  Clearly, she needed to learn to access her abilities rather than repressing them, but there had to be someone better suited to training her. Unfortunately, alternatives weren’t thick on the ground. Most of her consultants were self-trained, having figured out how to use their abilities in self-defense when they first developed. Those who had received outside training had come from religions—both eastern and western—but though the Catholic church could train a good exorcist, they weren’t much help with channels who happened to dream the future. In her experience, those who said they could help her—the “specialists” her brother had found for her over the years—were all charlatans and frauds. She’d even gone to a few shrinks, but after the third time she was asked to explain how her dreams made her feel, she’d lost interest in that particular line of focusing her energy.

  In all the years she’d been dealing with her affliction, she’d never had a breakthrough like she’d had with Prometheus. And he’d made it seem easy. He was a cocky, unethical bastard who thought he knew everything about everyone, but he’d helped. Which was more than anyone else had ever been able to do.

  But the bald truth was the man unsettled her. That was the heart of her problem with him. Was that it? Was it her problem? Had she been inventing a problem with his methods, his attitudes, because she was too unnerved by him to accept what he was offering? Not that she was attracted to him, per se, but there was no denying he was magnetic. And when he’d kissed her…

  The door flew open and Karma spun toward it guiltily. Not that she had any reason to be guilty. He was the one who was late. It wasn’t like he could read her thoughts—thank God. That she knew of. Unless he’d been lying when he said he couldn’t read minds… No. She would not make herself crazy.

  His presence consumed the room again, but this time instead of strolling around marking every inch as his, he walked straight for
her. “You ready?”

  Karma centered herself, drawing up her chin to face him. “You’re late.”

  A dark brow lifted. “Didn’t you know when I’d be here? Isn’t that one of your little tricks?”

  She hadn’t. Was he exempt? No, she’d sensed him before. Had she short-circuited her early warning system? “How do you know about that?”

  “Your secretary is a chatty little thing. I think I only understand about a third of what she says, but what I do understand is very enlightening. She adores you, by the way. And she thinks I’m fascinating. Smart girl.”

  “Now, aren’t you glad the demon you summoned didn’t succeed in killing her?”

  He groaned. “Are we ever going to get beyond that? I’ve sworn in the presence of your lie detector that I never intended to hurt any of your people. What more do you want me to say? Don’t I get any bonus points for saving that girl yesterday?”

  He was right. She was holding his past crimes against him like a shield, to keep him at a distance. Which, considering how he’d been doing everything she asked—albeit amid smartass remarks and unsanctioned cursing of frat boys—was unfair of her. Time to be the better woman and let bygones be gone. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You have my word that I won’t mention it again. I’m grateful for your assistance. Shall we get started?”

  “You going soft on me, Karma?”

  Of course he had to pick a fight, even over the fact that they weren’t going to fight anymore. “We’ve already lost,” she glanced at her watch, “fifteen minutes. Why waste any more time?”

  “Always skipping the foreplay, eh, angel? You’ve got it.” He rolled up his sleeves. “For starters, why don’t you show me what you’ve been doing?”