by Bast, Anya
God. Not ever.
Every night she collapsed exhausted into her bed and slept like the dead until morning. Every single one of all the muscles she’d never known she’d had ached. She understood the gravity of her situation and she’d been giving her all to each of them. That added up to three hundred percent. She had no more more to give.
She tried not to let the look in his eyes cow her. “I’ll try.”
He grunted and rolled off her. “Don’t try, just do it.”
She pushed to her feet, wincing at a pain in her back. Being slammed down onto a pad by a muscular man twice her weight wasn’t fun. “Who are you, Yoda?” Annoyance made the words snap out.
“Just because Bai hasn’t been back doesn’t mean he won’t be.”
She let her head droop. “I know, I know. Believe me, if he or Stefan ever come back I want to be ready.” She shivered. “I think Stefan scares me even more than Bai.”
“Why?”
Sarafina walked over and took a towel from where she’d draped it over a Nautilus machine. They were training in the Coven’s exercise room. “Because he’s a witch. I mean, I would expect a demon to do hideous and terrible things. I can understand that. But Stefan is aeamon, one of us.”
Theo uncapped his bottle of water and took a drink. When he’d finished, he put it down and said, “We’re all one, Sarafina. As hard as that may be to understand, the aeamon are a part of the daaeman. We’re born of them. The daaeman are a complicated race, like humans. Some of them are good and some of them are bad. There many shades of gray. You can count on an Atrika being violent and sociopathic. They’re made to be that way. You should count on it to save your skin. But there are accounts of even Atrika falling in love with humans in ancient times. Even they are capable of compassion, apparently.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying you shouldn’t generalize and you shouldn’t think in terms of us versus them. Basically, there is good in all demons, witches, and warlocks, but there’s bad, too. You can’t live by absolutes and you can’t trust anyone, not even those closest to you.”
Sarafina studied him for a long moment. “Do you really believe that? You can’t trust anyone?”
He shifted. “Yeah, mostly.”
“I agree with most of what you said, up until the end.” She glanced away. “Wow, I’m sorry.”
“Why?” The word dropped like a sharpened blade between them and she fought a wince.
She turned and found his gaze. “I’m sorry that whatever life handed you it was so terrible it taught you that you shouldn’t trust anyone.”
He tipped his head to the side a little. “Didn’t it teach you that?”
She smiled and shook her head. “No. Oh, I had a rough time of it when I was a kid and the day my mom died was no picnic, but no. There are lots of people in my life I can trust, and I thank the stars every day for each and every one of them.” Just thinking about how blessed she’d been to have Rosemary, not to mention all of her friends, made warmth tingle through her chest.
But Theo’s gaze only grew colder. He looked away from her, at the door. “Let’s knock off for the night. I think you’ve had enough for one day.”
She tried not to jump up and down and squeal with excitement. Jumping up and down at this point was out of the question, anyway; she was far too sore. “Sounds good to me. I’d love a long, hot bath and an evening of relaxation.”
“If we’re lucky, Bai and Stefan will give it to us.”
They gathered their things and headed back to Theo’s apartment. Grosset was lying on the couch when they arrived, looking like a little furry emperor awaiting his evening meal. She collapsed onto the couch next to his happy, squirming body and sighed deeply.
“Speaking of your friends,” said Theo from the kitchen doorway. He was probably going to make more charms. It seemed like all he did was make charms or work out when he wasn’t training her. The man had no capacity for enjoyment, it seemed. “Do you need to contact them? Aren’t they wondering where you are?”
She smiled as much as she could under the weight of her fatigue. “I’ve been fielding text messages for the last week. You provided me with the perfect cover. Maria has sung your praises to our entire circle of friends and acquaintances. They all think you’ve taken me away again to help me get over my grief.”
If only she really could disappear for a while and nurse the heavy, sad undercurrent of emotion that seemed ever-present since Rosemary’s death. That luxury was denied her.
He nodded. “So in their eyes I’m your boyfriend.” He could’ve used the same tone to say, I’ve been sentenced to be hanged at dawn.
“That’s your fault, dude, not mine.” She let her head fall back against the cushions out of pure fatigue and closed her eyes. She couldn’t even gather enough energy to be offended.
Grosset hopped off the couch and ran into the kitchen, where Theo was clanging pots and pans. She knew he’d feed the little dog and could hear him talking to Grosset in his low, rumbling voice. Eventually, as her exhaustion got the better of her, she heard nothing at all.
She awoke inside a dream. Or at least in the brief interlude between sleep and wakefulness, Sarafina thought she had.
Theo leaned down over her, fresh from the shower, wearing nothing but a towel around his narrow waist. His skin smelled of soap and the slightest bit of aftershave. His long dark hair lay damp and tangled over his broad shoulders. Her gaze seized on his chest, which was rarely bare despite the amount of training they did every day. The breathtaking expanse of muscular yumminess tapered to a narrow waist just barely covered by the white towel. For a moment she hoped it would slip. And, God, she was dying to ask him about all those scars.
“You fell asleep,” he rumbled, helping her up from the couch. “You’ll wake up sore if you sleep that way on the couch, and we have more training to do in the morning.”
She groaned and allowed him to pull her to her feet. “I can’t get any more sore than I already am,” she grumbled and staggered toward the bedroom. Heavy drowsiness confused the signals transmitted from her head to her feet and she stumbled. Theo caught her and steadied her, but not before she fell against all that lickableness. That woke her up a bit.
“Take a shower and get into whatever you sleep in and I’ll give you a massage.”
She stumbled again. “A massage?”
“I’m good at them.”
She started to ask who he practiced on. He didn’t seem to have a lot of friends, let alone girlfriends. His life was all about magick, training, and gaining revenge against the Duskoff and demons. But pointing out he had no life was not a good way to treat someone who’d been generous enough to open his home to her, not to mention put himself in front of a demon for her.
Anyway, the thought of having his hands on her made her knees go weak.
“Okay, I won’t turn the offer down. A good massage would make me sleep much better.”
They stopped outside the guest room doorway. “Make sure you wear something”—he paused and made a slow sweep of her body with his gaze—“appropriate.”
Sarafina scowled at his back as he walked down the hallway to his bedroom. Wear something appropriate? What did he think, that she intended to try and seduce him? Did he think she was planning to light a few candles and slip into a black lace teddy or something?
She curled her lip and watched him disappear into his room. She might think he was hot and more than a little mysterious, but she had no intention of trying to jump his bones. Good thing, since he’d just made it clear there would be none of that, anyway. He’d rejected her before she’d made a move . . . and she hadn’t even been planning to make a move!
Teeth gritted, she went in and took a hot shower. Finding a pair of boxer shorts and a tank top, she declared them “appropriate.” She assumed he wanted her body as covered as possible, but she didn’t own any grannie nightgowns that covered her from throat to ankle. He’d simply have to settle for her nor
mal nighttime attire.
Wincing, she made it over to the bed and collapsed face-down. Her eyelids immediately drooped. The hot water of the shower had made her muscles feel a little better and it had made her extra sleepy. Grosset bustled into the room, followed by Theo.
Wordlessly, Theo started on her right foot, massaging it competently with strong hands. Sarafina groaned, feeling all the tension and soreness leak from her body the farther he moved up her leg.
And the farther he moved up her leg the more poignantly aware she became of his touch. He worked silently and in a very businesslike manner. This was not a man who’d suggested the massage as a way to try and get into her pants. Clearly, he meant only to work out the knots in her muscles so she could sleep better and they could get back to work the next day.
Considering what he’d told her about her clothing being appropriate, she should be offended. She certainly should not be enjoying the slide of his calloused palms over her skin and the deep, strong pressure of his fingers massaging her calves and thighs. It relaxed her body and also made her feel tingly in places he most certainly was not touching.
His touch also made her feel oddly comforted and protected. When she gave in to the fact that she liked his hands on her—really she didn’t have any energy left to fight it, anyway—her body tipped so far into drowsiness that it was impossible to recover.
When Theo reached her shoulders and turned the muscles there into melted butter, the comforting darkness of sleep closed over her head like a wave crashing onto the beach.
THEO NOTED SARAFINA’S BREATHING DEEPEN TO slumber as he finished working the tension from her back. Once he was satisfied that he’d helped her recover from the stress and strain of the grueling week she’d put in, he withdrew and took a moment to watch her sleep, totally unable to resist the urge.
She turned onto her back and lay half covered by the sheet that was twisted around her legs. As she shifted, the boxers she wore rode higher up, better exposing the silky, pale shape of her thighs. He’d just had his hands on them and he knew how soft and velvety her skin was.
She threw an arm over her head and the action caused her breast to press against the material of the tank top she wore. If he looked hard he could see the outline of her nipple. He was a man; he looked. He even imagined what it would feel like under his fingertips, what it would taste like against his tongue.
His gaze traveled upward again. Her eyelashes were swept down over creamy pale skin and her full lips were slightly parted in sleep.
Yeah, she was attractive. Maybe even a little more than merely attractive. Most men would probably call her cute, but Theo found her beautiful.
Grosset lay on her other side, snoring. The dog snuffled against her back and almost woke her up, so Theo turned and walked out of the room. The last thing he needed to be caught doing was staring at her while she was sleeping. All the trust she thought she had in him would disappear.
And he liked that she trusted him.
TEN
SARAFINA TURNED DURING YET ANOTHER TIRING training session and regarded Claire. “Where is his family?”
Claire dropped to the padded floor the three balls she held in the air with air magick. She’d been juggling them while Sarafina had been practicing throwing fire the special way Claire had instructed her. Together the two of them were probably better than Ringling Bros.
She blinked. “Who?” A knowing look enveloped her expression. “Oh, you mean Theo.”
Sarafina nodded.
“He doesn’t talk much, our Theo. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
Claire spoke with an odd, very subtle accent, something that people might presume was Dutch. It had come from growing up on Eudae, Sarafina understood. It was hard to believe that Claire actually spoke fluent Aemni, the demon language.
“He especially doesn’t talk much about his past or his family,” Claire continued. “I do know that he’s estranged from his parents and has been since he was a teenager. I don’t think he had a good life with them. His father abused his mother and I believe she left when Theo was a teenager.” She lifted a shoulder. “I don’t think he has any siblings, but I’m just not sure. Theo is reserved. He doesn’t share much about himself and he’s hard to get close to.”
Sarafina shifted and glanced away. “Yes, sometimes people who have their spirits broken when they’re young close themselves off from the rest of the world, to protect the unbroken part of themselves. It’s hard for them to risk because they understand just how much there is to lose.”
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.” Claire’s voice had gone quiet and gentle.
Sarafina laughed. “I suppose having my mother try to kill me in my neighbor friend’s sandbox qualifies as a spirit-breaking childhood event. I closed down, too, but my foster mom helped me see what I was doing early on and correct it.” She paused and swallowed hard; a rush of grief for Rosemary rose up to swamp her for a moment. “I had help. Not everyone gets that.”
Claire gave her a small, secret smile. “I had help, too.”
Sarafina figured she was referring to Adam. The two of them were always together, obviously committed, and deeply in love. There were several couples in the Coven that way—in the kind of relationships that made people around them get lumps in their throats.
One day Sarafina wanted something like what Claire and Adam had. Something like what she saw when Jack met Mira’s eyes from across the room, or when Thomas brushed the back of his hand against Isabelle’s cheek when he thought no one was looking. A relationship like that wasn’t in the cards for her, at least not anytime soon.
Sarafina returned her smile, happy—if not just a little jealous—for the other woman’s good fortune. It was natural. Everyone wanted to be loved, didn’t they? Even Theo needed to be loved somewhere down deep under all the gruff.
“Can you tell me what happened to his chest to create all those scars?” Sarafina asked. She couldn’t resist asking the question, she just couldn’t.
“The Duskoff, who else? I’ll let him tell you the details, though.”
Sarafina raised an eyebrow. “Think he will?”
“I think he’s bonded with you better than I’ve ever seen him bond with anyone. Even Ingrid.”
“Ingrid?”
“A fire witch who died in a blood magick spell performed by an Atrika daaeman about a year and a half ago. Theo was sleeping with her, but no one really knows if it was more than that.” She glanced away. “I feel responsible for her death in a way because the demon’s spell was worked to find me. Her death really affected Theo deeply.”
“That’s horrible.”
“It was a . . . bad time.”
“I’m not sleeping with him, you know.”
Claire looked up in surprise. “Huh? I never thought you were.”
“Well, but you said Theo was bonding better with me than he had with Ingrid, a woman he was sleeping with. I’m not with Theo like that.”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to imply I thought you were.”
“I just want to make that clear.” Sarafina waved a hand at her. “I’m staying in the guest room and we have different bathrooms. I’ve never even seen him naked, well, except for the waist up, and—”
Claire laughed. “Okay, I got it. I think someone is protesting a little too much.”
Sarafina felt her cheeks heat. “I just don’t want tongues to be wagging, mostly for Theo’s sake.”
“Okay, gotcha.” Claire winked. She turned and headed for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sarafina.”
“Okay, see you tomorrow!” Sarafina waved and then smacked her forehead with her open palm once Claire had disappeared. She hadn’t completely clued her in that she was crushing a little bit on Theo, had she? Nah, not at all . . . Sarafina cringed.
She headed out of the room as well, more than ready to knock off for the night. All the way up to Theo’s apartment she kicked herself for running on at the mouth about sleeping with Theo. As much
as she tried to deny it, the more time she spent with the man, the more she imagined what it would be like.
Theo was so intense. Would he be that way in bed, too? How would all the focused, passionate emotion that teemed under his constant brooding translate between the sheets? Just the thought made her shiver.
She’d read that certain elements were attracted to each other. Air and fire fed each other. Earth and water nourished each other. When two people who were already attracted had elements that complemented, that attraction was intensified. Earth and fire had nothing special—no pumped-up attraction.
On her end, it mattered not a whit.
Sometimes before she went to sleep at night she imagined what it would be like to kiss him. He had such a sensual mouth, such full lips. How would they feel slipping and sliding against hers? How would his toughened, powerful hands feel moving against her most intimate places? She knew firsthand from the massage he’d given her that he could be gentle and strong at the same time.
Would he be uber-dominant in bed, or would he allow her to take the lead?
Oh, God.
She stopped in front of his door, trying to calm the furious flush that had entered her cheeks. It was the curse of the fair-skinned. She had to get control of her fantasies. Theo had given her absolutely no indication that he was at all interested in her that way. He’d made that one remark in the kitchen, but, hell, she could have misunderstood. Then there’d been that comment about appropriate clothing.
No, he wasn’t attracted to her.
She walked into an empty living room. Grosset was in his usual place on the couch. She set her bag down on the floor by the coffee table and noted that his apartment had been much tidier since she’d been staying with him. Probably a combination of her picking things up and Theo becoming more conscious of not simply stripping as soon as he got through the door and dropping his clothes willy-nilly.