If possible, and if Maks’s distrust of her allowed, she would make life better for him. Ease the torture of the battle between the order he craved and the chaos in his blood.
In spite of believing her a liar and a thief—a vorovka as he called her—Maksim Medved had protected her the entire night. He’d thumped goblins, opened doors and told her when she was wrong. Sure, he’d gone Armageddon crazy on her, but chaos did that to Faebles. Mostly he’d looked out for her. She would be grossly remiss if she didn’t return the favor.
In the span of nanoseconds she chose to love Maks. Although the decision had been a century in the making, it crystallized in that moment. Only a strategy to make him see the wisdom of accepting her love remained to be chosen. Oh, how she hoped her affection brought him joy. Rubbing her knuckles against her lower lip, she considered what she knew of the man.
Ahh. The slinky warmth of chaos on the prowl filled her. She would destroy the fortress around his joy—a corny thought but a needed outcome. Clearly he wanted to laugh. Mirth had tugged at the corners of his mouth several times during their impromptu adventure. He’d batted it aside every time. Returning the favor of his care by giving him more laughter than he could stand impressed Ari as justice.
That odd mix of glee and nausea reclaimed her.
And we have nose twitching! Good stuff. He’d scared her momentarily, but in all honesty she was not afraid of him. Ari’s staff retracted to latent length. She feared he’d walk away much more.
“I’m loaded for bear, Okaasan.”
“You plan to slay a Medved?”
A bark of hilarity burst out. “Uh. I meant I’m good to go.”
“Your clichés have caused my eyes to cross. Yet you imply you are well.” Her mother relaxed and the pressure of Inari’s magick relented. “We do not deceive one another, Kit.”
“No, we don’t,” Ari replied with sincerity.
Footsteps struck the dirt road behind her the moment she hung up with her mother. How considerate of him. Normally Maks moved in silence, but he wanted to make her aware of his approach. Clearing his throat he took a beat and gentled his voice. “My apologies. You are a creature of your birth. I should not blame you for this.”
He said it like she was a rabid animal. Ari’s cheek twitched, concealing a sulk. Any ground she’d gained with him had dissolved and blown away in the storm of their chaos. She had work to do. Giving Maks a show, she shrugged and reached into her shoulder pack.
He continued speaking. “I will maintain control until I have reclaimed the statue. Then we can be done with one another, perhaps with expedition enough to leave our city intact.”
Ari ignored the slice of anxiety his words caused. Focusing on pulling transportation from her bag lent her a few seconds to come up with a response. Her entire left arm disappeared into the opened zipper. She grasped handlebars and pulled.
To Maks she said, “I guess you don’t enjoy my company as much as I enjoy yours. That’s sad.”
His attention went to the squeaky toy softness of the marigold colored handlebars and headlight being pulled from her bag. Next came the front wheel, followed by the body.
“It is not that I do not enjoy your company. I—”
Her Vespa 180 Super Sport popped out, losing the squishy softness required for magickal storage, to become a solid bike. A classic one at that. Ari elbow shined the “A!” insignia on the front. Going back into her bag she retrieved two helmets and held one out to Maks. “You were saying it’s not you don’t enjoy my company but…”
The muscles near his temples tightened, causing his eyes to narrow. He’d thought of something and she’d bet she wasn’t gonna like it. He moved closer, affecting nonchalance the little hairs on the back of her neck warned her not to trust.
“I am not relishing the chaos we cause. Nor am I comfortable with your—” he rolled a hand in the air, “—lifestyle. Parting ways is best.”
He could say whatever he wanted but her middleman was stalking her on the sneaky sneak. Ah ha. Well, it had to happen at some point. The bigger surprise came from him not trying earlier. Which proved he was an honorable man; one at the end of his patience. Ari bent and lifted her bag in her right hand, the two helmets held firmly in her left.
Maks danced forward, took her bag and returned to his original position so quickly he left her gaping.
He smirked, gorgeous and triumphant. That’s new. Reaching through the zippered opening Maks felt around and made a horrible face. The hand he withdrew oozed with—Ari sniffed in his direction—mud.
“Lucky you,” she said. “The last person who tried that got the cow pie, extra moist.”
Taking her pack back Ari found a box of wet wipes. After Maks cleaned off the mud she shook a helmet at him. He declined. “If I wear a helmet to ride a Vespa I may as well give you my balls as adornment.”
“Are you pouting because of the mud?”
“I do not pout,” he said in all seriousness.
“Sure and you’re not surly either.”
Paying her no heed, Maks strode to the bike and sat. He adjusted the rearview mirrors, shifting his weight for comfort. The man took a lot for granted. He owned her heart, not her Vespa. Oblivious to her astonishment, he motioned for her to hop on back.
“Oh no, middleman, it’s my bike. I drive.”
“If I have to ride on the back I will become the bear so no one recognizes me.”
Payback was a mutha. She hopped on back of the Vespa so fast her boots didn’t stir the earth. Maks peeled out at speeds surpassing hers.
The moment she settled her arms around his waist he moved them up just below his chest. Oooh, his pecs felt nice.
He snarled.
Hm, had she felt him up without realizing?
Palming both her wrists in one of his hands he slid her arms way down, nearly into his lap. Even better. A rumbling rolled through him and into her. A purr? He shifted her arm position again, settling for the area one would’ve called his breadbasket—if there were any fat on him. There wasn’t. More like an energy bar basket. My, oh my, she wanted him bad.
Maks braked at a red light and coughed, changing position to put more space between them. “How do you become a returner?”
Distraction techniques, huh? She’d play along. “How did I or how does it happen in general?”
“How does it happen?”
“In some ways it’s a talent.” She changed her voice to sound sage. “The ability to discern between truth and deception must be as strong in you as the force, youngling.”
His cheek twitched but as far as she could tell he didn’t smile. He’s a tough one. “We returners are naturals at that kind of discernment as long the case or the circumstances aren’t personal. Personal entanglements make things cloudy.”
“This is true of any creature with the lack of self-preservation it takes to bond with others,” Maks said.
Ari laughed and nodded. “If a Faeble feels they have a proclivity for retrieving and returning they go to the Bridge Across building to be tested.”
He made a hm sound. “You are speaking of the bridge on North Naiad Street that disappears into mist and the appearance of nothingness beyond?”
“Yup.”
“I know this place. I went there once.”
“Ever been inside?”
“No. I felt uncomfortable with the magicks tugging at me.”
His body stiffened slightly. He glanced at her over his shoulder and turned away again.
“You really don’t like returners, do you?” Ari shook her head in amusement but scooted closer. Tightening her arms around him, she laid her cheek against his shoulder blade. If he didn’t want her touching him he’d have to fight her for it.
“The building is gorgeous once you cross the bridge. Anyway, I passed. So I trained for two years, apprenticed for another and on the spring equinox in 1996 I had my branding ceremony.”
The light changed and the wind picked up as they accelerated.
&nb
sp; “I was there.”
Her head snapped up. Maks’s spine had gone so straight hugging a two by four would’ve been more comfortable. Whatever he’d said had been lost to the wind but it sounded like…“You said what?”
He didn’t answer. A thought occurred. “You know, you might have seen a ceremony if you were there in late March and had gone in. Maybe mine.”
Ari couldn’t tell whether Maks jerked at her words or if the forward momentum of her Vespa, once he opened the throttle, made her think he had. Either way she suddenly felt good, light and at ease.
“You’re not going to let the Grand High Oni kill me,” she said, whispering the words into his ear to keep the wind from swallowing them. At least she’d use that as an excuse if he asked.
“Why would you believe this?” he shouted back.
“Because you still have to find out who had me take your family heirloom and why it no longer belongs to you…Plus, you can’t get it out of my bag without me, middleman.”
The Vespa shot forward again. Maks pushed the magick-enhanced bike to its fastest.
“I am not liking this ‘middleman’ you keep calling me,” he shouted over roaring air. “I am Maksim Mikhail Valentin Skazkakh Bolshebnukh Medved.”
“Fabulous. You Russians really pile on the monikers, huh?”
“My brothers and I are of the Bolshebnukh Roma, Faebled Gypsies, on my mother’s side. The lengths of our names come primarily from them.”
“That’s a serious inheritance to lay on a kid.” She repeated his full name, mimicking his accent. From behind, she noticed his cheekbones rise, becoming more defined. He smiles?
“When you have a son, vixen-vorovka, mine will be his name too,” he said, his tone feral.
“Wha—huh?”
The bike wavered in what any observer would call a drunken swerve. “Oh Gods,” Maks said. “It was Bear. All Bear. I swear it.”
Ari’s brain square-danced, punctuated by a mental yee-freaking-haw. She forced her breathing and heart rate to steady. It wouldn’t do to spook the wild animal before she’d trapped him. “The bear? You sayin’ the bear wants to procreate with me?”
“Do not say it this way. You make it sound so clinical.”
It didn’t sound clinical to her. Ari tightened her arms around him by slow degrees. The thought of Maks knocking her up sounded like a great way to spend a Sunday and every day after.
“Do you have a timetable for my insemination? My father isn’t gonna let us make babies until we’re married.”
“I am not going to marry you, vorovka.”
She shrugged. He wanted her. She knew it. Something in each of them called to the other. She’d work with whatever advantage she got. Maks avoided her eyes in the rearview and began to hum a tune.
No further comment came but Ari didn’t mind. A fog of bliss expanded in her head and she floated, as high as if she’d snorted several lines of pixie dust. Of course, she played the roll of a wary woman for Maks’s benefit.
He pulled up to the curb in front of Willow the Wisps, dropped the kickstand and waited. Colleen, her mother’s friend, owned the pub and Ari had a delivery to make. She hopped off the bike and marched to the door. A second before entering she tossed a challenge over her shoulder—her answer to his refusal to marry her. “You keep your bear away from me.”
He let her get inside before he muttered his response. “As if I’d let him loose. How do you think your clothes have remained on so long?” Then he followed.
Ari grinned. She’d heard. The bear’s awakening certainly made Maks chatty, and she liked it.
A flash later they exited the pub. Colleen had gone out for an hour or more. They’d have to wait for her return and Ari despised the hookah smoke-heavy environment inside. She and Maks needed a spot to hang.
“Let us go there,” he said, pointing to a business down the block and across the street. “Do you know karaoke?”
“I’m half Japanese.”
He raised both brows. “Is this meant to be an answer?”
She tried again, putting extra stress on the last word and holding her arms out to her sides. “I’m Japanese.”
In mock frustration Maks looked away and back. “So you would like me to stereotype you?”
Smart boy. How would he react if she jumped into his arms and licked him? Probably not well. “You’re right. Yes, I know karaoke.”
“Then let us go.”
“Give me a sec.”
It actually took two minutes to instruct her new minions to stay at Willow the Wisps and look out for Colleen. She also asked Corbel to come get her and Maks when the pub’s owner arrived. Trajan balked but his neck still flopped without the scarf, so he lost the debate.
The karaoke parlor utilized a classic Asian set-up—various-sized private rooms with wait staff to bring drinks and snacks. The only available space, however, was meant for a party of roughly thirty. Maks rented it anyway.
Once they’d entered the room, he situated himself on the black leather sectional and tossed her the control panel. She punched in a song code and croaked a tuneless rendition of Chaka Khan’s “Ain’t Nobody.” Ari had no shame, but wounded wildebeest summed up her singing—a wounded, broken-hearted wildebeest with a chronic sinus infection. She knew how she sounded but it didn’t stop her. Afterward, Maks stared at her agape, his blinking nearly audible.
“Awful.” He blinked a bit more and looked around, apparently searching for someone with whom to discuss his horror. “Or should I say offal because I want to rip out my own guts.”
“Maks!” Ari covered her mouth to keep from going into her monkey laugh. Not sexy.
Her middleman remained shell-shocked. “I am not able to close my mouth. Your singing is…jaw dropping.”
Ari couldn’t contain it. She laughed in sharp barks better suited to a baboon. In response, the dawning of a grin tugged at one corner of Maks’s mouth.
C’mon. C’mon, sweetie. She could endure the embarrassment of the monkey laugh if he smiled for once. Almost there. Almost.
He licked his lower lip and it curved a bit more.
Closer.
His lips firmed into a line.
Aw man, chagrin but no grin.
“You saying you sing better?” she asked, allowing an edge of teasing into her voice.
Propelling himself off the couch he approached her, hand held aloft to tag her out wrestling style. She high-fived him harder than necessary and moved past to the couch.
Maks faced her, looking entirely too good. “I could scream after being impaled on the Space Needle and sound better.”
“Fine. Sing.” She sat. “But I’ll pick the song.”
“You may choose. There is no song I do not know.”
“Shenanigans.”
“Choose something.”
“You really sing that well?”
“I am part Gypsy, part boyar and Faebled.”
“Gotcha. I’ll stereotype you now.”
A slight inclination of his head. “I would say touché but touchy applies better.”
More of her monkey laugh ensued. Ari blushed, flipping through the book of songs until a sly smirk spread across her face. She took up the control panel and punched a set of four numbers in.
A funky guitar lick kicked things off. Followed by a shimmy-inducing groove—sultry and bright. The performer in Maks transformed his posture. He sneered, pinning Ari with a rock star glare.
Gulp. He’d always been graceful but this was…he swiveled his hips and…and…she didn’t have enough synapses to process such pulchritude.
Her middleman strummed an air guitar, launching into the opening verse of “She’s Always In My Hair” by Prince. As a result, Ari lost her fragile little mind.
He gave her no quarter as he strutted through and wailed on two more verses. Hand to the heavens, if they’d been in a stadium she’d have thrown her panties at his feet while still wearing them.
The music and the man culminated in a living fanta
sy. One she’d crafted in every solitary moment of her adulthood—wishes on stars for someone who’d understand her tricky family and odd personality. Maks embodied it all, all the desires shaping her since her once-upon-a night at the opera when she’d hidden in a water closet because she couldn’t take the pressure. Back then their connection had been an inkling, a preview of a deeper bond. Now the time for hiding had ended. Ari recognized she drove Maks nuts, she only hoped he’d gone crazy enough to love her back.
When the instrumental section came in he approached her, his intent indeterminate, thrilling. Before she took the next breath, Maks pulled her to her feet and into a ballroom stance—Ari had watched enough TV dance shows to recognize it.
One beat.
Two.
And they tangoed.
Although Ari affected the proper haughty movements to match his intensity, his body and scent conspired against her. Underneath her aplomb the threat of blacking out encroached.
Flecks of chaos switched on around them, mimicking twinkling faerie lights, and Maks and Ari danced. Her body molded to his as they spun around the private room. She lost her breath several times over but there was no stopping until the last refrains of the song faded. Maks’s ballroom hold lost all propriety. He yanked her against him with fervor, his breath warm against her cheek.
“How do you confuse me this way?”
She didn’t have an answer so held on to him.
“You are a thief.”
“No.”
“A liar.”
“Technically.”
He growled low in his belly. “Born of tricksters and chaos.”
“Yes.”
He spun her away. The violence of it caused her to lose her balance. Ari reacted sluggishly; her body hadn’t caught on to the danger of falling and her mind was mist. His hand clasped her forearm and she found herself pressed back into his body.
And then…he kissed her. She collapsed against him, tasting his passion in a rush of need. His kiss was hot and feral and sweet. Incongruous. Him. Maks sucked at her tongue and nipped her bottom lip as though consumed by the same need driving her to fully experience every sensation offered. Her fantasy didn’t hold up to his truth. This was beyond beyond.
Chaos Tryst Page 7