Sixpence & Whiskey

by Heather R. Blair

  I can’t move, staring up at his face as my pulse leaps again. Despite everything I know about him, the temptation is huge.

  Overwhelming, just like it was in that goddamn icehouse. Back then, I convinced myself it was all a hallucination—until it was over. This time, I can’t fool myself. I know he’s real. I also know what will happen if I let him in again. Jack used love once to get both sex and power. Sex now could be his way to get something else. Something that might destroy me.

  Either way, I won’t survive tangling with this man a second time.

  A big, lean hand wraps around my hip, strong fingers digging into the curve of my ass, lifting me. His head is already lowering, just like in my goddamn dream. There is no faking the look on his face. I absolutely believe Jack wants me. I just don’t trust why.

  A lock of thick chestnut hair brushes my thigh, and I nearly scream at the need that rips through me.

  “Jack, don’t.” But my head longs to fall back and let him do what he will.

  “I want to taste you again,” he breathes, hot against my fluttering stomach, the low words full of promise. “You’ve no idea how much. I need this, too.”

  Maybe he does. Unfortunately that pesky why won’t leave me alone.

  “You can’t have it.” My words come out shaky as the warm, sandpaper rasp of his jaw makes my insides do the shimmy. Because oh god, do I want to let him have it.

  His lips brush my skin, and I almost come on the spot, my fingers balling up the sheet beneath me. Somehow I choke out the words, “Jack, I said no.”

  Without another word, he rolls off the bed and onto his feet. I can see the dark shadow of that broad back; he’s shaking. But then again, so am I. It takes a minute, but when he turns around, Jack’s back in control.

  Or close to it. Snow is falling lightly from my bedroom ceiling.

  Ignoring the aching in my heart and the throbbing between my legs, I get to my feet, stumbling for the hot-pink robe on the back of my bedroom door by the light of my old alarm clock. Striving for calm, for a way out of this madness. As always, the way is paved with snark.

  “Wanna tell me why you’re in my bedroom making it snow at 2:11 in the morning?”

  He looks up and curses. The snow freezes in mid-air, flakes winking out one by one. Jack shoves a hand through his hair, giving me a dark look.

  “It’s about the assassin you’re keeping prisoner in the basement of your bar.”

  “Oh, that.” I wave a hand and pull on my robe, or try to. It takes me a bit to realize I am trying to put it on inside out and backward. And possibly upside down. Jack rips it from my hands and shakes it out with a snap before holding it out for me to put on. His jaw is clenched so tightly it looks painful.

  I shove my arms through the mass of pink fluff.

  “Thank you,” I mumble.

  “Believe me, it’s better for both of us if you’re covered up right now.” His voice could strip paint as he steps back, watching me tie the robe closed and draw the collar up to my throat.

  I still feel naked. The look in his eyes doesn’t help.

  “You’ve got to let Tyr go, Seph.”

  I’m not about to tell him I’ve already come to this conclusion. “But I don’t want to let him go, Jack. He tried to kill me.”

  “Not very hard.” He seems pissed about Tyr’s inefficiency as an assassin. This makes me bristle. For obvious reasons.

  “Only because Sy stopped him.”

  His snort says it all. “My point exactly. One of the realm taken down by a human? It’s ludicrous.”

  “You’re very rude sometimes, you know that, Jack?”

  He folds his arms, leaning against my dresser. “Seph, you can’t continue to hold him. It’s dangerous.”

  “Huh. Somehow I figure it’s more dangerous to have him wandering around trying to kill me.” We stare at each other across the bluish winter shadows playing through the half-open curtains. My toes curl into the shaggy alpaca rug under my bare feet, my body still keenly aware of the bed a few steps away and his earlier offer. I can imagine us tangled there together all too easily.

  “That won’t happen again.” There’s a muscle ticking in his jaw. It takes me a minute to sort out what he’s talking about. Oh yeah. Tyr.

  “How do you know?”

  “I just do. But the longer he’s here, the likelier it is others will come to free him …or finish what he started. You want one of them to blow that damn bar of yours sky high?”

  I shrug, feeling mulish. “Don’t knock the power of publicity. T&T could use some this time of year—”

  “This isn’t a fucking joke, princess!”

  “You being concerned about me?” I give him a long measured look that makes his lips tighten. “Yeah, I kind of think it is. What’s your angle, Jack?”

  “There doesn’t always have to be an angle.”

  I laugh out loud at that. “With you? Oh yes, there fucking does.”

  Before my laughter fades away, he’s in my face, in my space. Hands wrapped around my arms, so close I can feel that incredible heat of his though my robe. I back up until my ass hits the wall. There’s nowhere else to go. I’ve completely forgotten my magic. Hell, I barely remember how to breathe. Unable to focus on anything, but the infuriating, desirable man in front of me.

  “Angle or not, you know I’m right. Let him go, Seph. Tomorrow.”

  “I’ll think about it.” Bullshit. I can’t think about anything right now except me and Jack on that goddamn bed. From the look in his eyes, he’s right there with me.

  “Think about whatever you want, Seph,” his gaze is scorching, “but do what I say.”

  “Thinking is all you’re getting from me for tonight, Jack.”

  “Is it?” His hands tighten on my fluffy pink sleeves, not painfully, but I can feel his strength even through the thick fabric.

  “Yeah, it is.” I say, wishing the words didn’t sound so breathy, or that I could tear my eyes away from his lips.

  “I think not.”

  Then his mouth is on mine, searing and sweet, and all I want is more.

  Before I can embarrass myself by reaching for him, he’s gone. Leaving my lips branded and my legs shaking for the third time in less than a week. But Jack left a message in the ice fading from my windows.

  Tomorrow.

  19

  In the morning, I’m tempted to hold onto Tyr for another day, just to thumb my nose at Jack’s ultimatum, but acting like a petulant child isn’t gonna get me anywhere. (If it would, I’d be all over that shit, kicking and screaming).

  Instead, I get ready to run to the office. I have a couple of quick errands to do before springing the assassin. I’m just zipping up my white faux-fur hoodie that makes me feel cute as hell (which I am in desperate need of right now) when Carly wanders in.

  “Can you give me a ride to Dungeon’s End?” A quirky little shop on the west end that is Carly and her gamer pals’ favorite hangout. She’s over sixty years old, but I’ve never seen a bigger geek. I can’t tease her about it, though, especially with that bright yellow scarf wrapped around her throat, curly red-gold hair bouncing as she plops down on my still unmade bed. Carly’s perpetually stuck at twenty-seven. Just like I will be. If I make it to my birthday.

  That’s currently a big if.

  “Sure, pumpkin.” She follows me through the house and outside. I groan when I see the tequila box swaying tipsily on the passenger side. Carly helps me consign old José into the garage and then we’re off. Still with a case of liquid gold in the back, but hey, who knows when some tequila will come in handy.

  “Are you really keeping an assassin in the basement of your bar?” Carly asks as I back out of the driveway.

  “Well, where else am I gonna keep him? It’s not like I have a specific room for that.”

  She laughs softly, but gives me a look full of soft concern.

  “You look tired, Sephie.”

  “Hey now, I’m going for cute here.” I fluff my ha
ir and give her an arch look over my glasses.

  “Well, you do look cute. Cute and tired.”

  “Blame it on Jack.”

  “I always thought you and Jack were absolutely adorable together, you know.”

  “What? When the hell did you ever see us together?”

  “I notice more than you think, little sis.” Carly’s meaningful eye roll has me doing a slight double take. “I saw you sneaking out to meet him all the damn time. He’d wait on the sidewalk every night, watching you climb down the trellis and run to him. The way he looked at you when you couldn’t see him…”

  With a sigh, Carly leans her head against the passenger window. “I wonder if a man will ever look at me like that?”

  The question is clearly one she is asking herself, not me. It makes my heart squeeze tight. Carly has a gentle nature, almost too gentle to be a proper witch. Because of that we’re all rather protective of her. From Mom on down. Even me, and I’m decades younger than she is.

  For the first time I think maybe we’ve protected her too much. As far as I know, Carly’s never had a boyfriend. Then again, thinking of Jack and me, perhaps that’s best. And I’m far from the only example; Ana’s history is no better, our mother won’t even talk about our father, and Jett…

  Let’s just say our family has no luck at all when it comes to men.

  “It was all an act, Carly.”

  She smiles—a sweet, sly little smile—without looking at me. “If you say so.”

  Silence. I have no idea what to say to that. Then, after a few miles, out of the blue, Carly says, “Of course, you know I was always pulling for Georg, too.” She giggles. “Remember when he used to try and sweeten me up to get to you?”

  I remember. It was a juicy scandal in the FTC world when Jack left me ripped to metaphorical pieces. My hands tighten on the steering wheel. Even now my cheeks burn remembering. Georg was one of the few who tried to visit for reasons other than gossip. But my family closed ranks around me that fall. I wanted no visitors, so they saw to it I had no visitors, except Syana.

  Georg was far too smart to approach my mother, who might’ve shut him down, and quite possibly ordered him to stay away. An order he would’ve had to obey. He couldn’t chance that. Quickly he learned Ana would not be moved. And no one in their right mind would try to butter Jett up.

  So, he decided to focus on what he assumed was the weak link. Carly. Now my sister’s sweet, but far from stupid. She took full advantage of his willingness to do anything and everything to get to me. The hoops she made that man jump through…

  He took her to the Renaissance fair—twice. Plus down to the Cities for some nerd Con or the other, along with a load of other stuff. It makes me grin, remembering. I worried at first that she was getting a crush on him, but that never seemed to be the case. Carly just started thinking of Georg as a potential brother, the brother all of us had dreamed of, but never gotten.

  They’re still close. She knows Georg almost as well as I do, maybe even better. Carly was the only one in our family who was actually upset when I turned down his proposal last summer.

  “The poor bruin’s got no chance against Jack, though, does he?” She gives me a sidelong look.

  I swallow, my smile fading. “It’s not a competition, sissie. Anyways, they’re both off the table.” I’ve had enough of this subject as we swing over to the curb. “You need me to pick you up?”

  “Nah. I’ll catch a bus…or something.” There’s a curious smile on her face as Carly leans over to kiss my cheek before bouncing out of the car. Off to play WOW or some shit. How fantasy worlds can interest her so much when we freaking live in one is beyond me, but hell, if it makes her happy, who am I to judge?

  It’s only as I am pulling away that I see him; a man guiding my sister into the storefront. My foot hits the brake. In the rearview mirror, I catch a flash of golden eyes and silver-blond hair at the resulting squeal. He quickly moves through the door, too fast for me to be sure. Just a fleeting impression of a tight ass and really broad shoulders. Styx?

  Nah. But I stare for a moment before pulling slowly away from the curb.

  No fucking way. It couldn’t have been. Styx’s coloring is pretty damn distinctive, though. Not too many guys running around that are six foot six with long silvery hair and bright gold eyes…

  Styx is the monster in the lake.

  He’s like Jack, an elemental, but unique in that he’s a shifter, too—only not in the sense that werewolves and bruins are. In those races, human and animal merge, becoming one. Styx is something way beyond human or animal, something other. He’s like no creature in existence, at least not on this plane. I’ve only seen him shifted once, and then just the barest peek from the corner of my eye. Shivering at the memory, I ease the Fiat back into traffic.

  What the hell would Styx be doing meeting my sister at her fave geek hangout? With an effort, I shake it off. Even if that was Styx, which I highly doubt, I’ve always liked him. Not to mention he helped me out of a tight jam more than once. Jack may call him crazy, but Styx is a-okay in my book.

  I wonder how he rates in Carly’s?

  With that perplexing thought, I head up I-35, shaking my head.

  After making a necessary drop-off, and a fair bit of magical preparation, I head back to the bar and into the basement to spring my prisoner. Tyr raises his head, his black eyes glinting through the shadows.

  Even after a week in the clink, he looks pretty damn good. He’s made daily use of the shower. I brought him all the usual toiletries (Just because he tried to kill me doesn’t mean I have to pull a Nurse Ratched.) I even got him a razor, though it doesn’t look like he bothered with it this morning. His jaw is dark and tightens as I approach.

  “I’m out of smokes.” He sounds so surly, I can’t help but grin.

  “Go get them your own damn self then. I’m tired of supporting your filthy habit.”

  He gets to his feet, a question forming on his face. One I answer with a muttered word and a flick of a finger, dropping the constraints I set up the night he went after me and have continually reinforced every day since. The magic falls like a wall of golden water, before swirling over the floor and away, as if down an invisible drain. Tyr can see none of this, but his shoulders instantly relax.

  “What made you change your mind?”

  “You looking a gift horse in the mouth?”

  “No, I’m looking at a stubborn witch with a nice ass.”

  I smile, despite myself, waving a bag from Amazing Grace. “Want a muffin?”

  He ignores this, pausing where the limits of his ‘cell’ used to be. I watch him carefully, but I’m not particularly worried. As if noting this, his eyebrows come up.

  “I could try and finish the job right here and now.”

  I grin and take a big bite of muffin, but don’t say a word. He nods as if I’ve answered an important question. “But you’re ready for that, aren’t you, lovely?”

  Swallowing, I brush the crumbs from my lips before replying. “I’ve got a few things lined up, but if you want to have a go, I’m all yours.”

  He wags a finger at me, smirking. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.” With a flourish, he indicates the stairs. “Ladies first.”

  “Ah, such a gentleman,” I say, heavy on the sarcasm, “but after you, please.”

  He shrugs, those wicked eyes sparkling. “It was worth a try.”

  “I’m letting you go, Tyr. Don’t make me regret my decision.”

  Probably deciding it’s best not to push it, he heads up the stairs. I trail after, admiring his ass—which is pretty goddamn nice, too—while sipping coffee and wondering if I am making a mistake. If I were Jett, I would’ve killed him the first night.

  As if reading my thoughts, my sister turns her head just as we gain the landing and open the door. I can see her in bits and pieces through the patterns in the frosted glass. She looks from me to Tyr and rolls her eyes before going back to her customer, who I still can’t
make out. I’m betting it’s the same one from last week. Jett rarely makes early appointments, so more than one in such a short time has me curious. It’s definitely somebody big sitting in that chair. A guy, then. I step closer, but Tyr’s voice stops me short.

  “What about my sword?”

  Giving a delicate shudder, I hand him a muffin. “I left that thing down the road a ways. Mile marker 246.”

  He takes the muffin, then extends his other hand with a bemused smile. “It’s been …enlightening, Persephone. I enjoyed not killing you.”

  We’re clasping forearms in the old way when a shiver slides over the back of my neck. Both our heads swivel toward the window in the side door.

  Outside, Jack is clearly visible, leaning against the wall of the men’s clothing store across the street. His collar is turned up, dark hair blowing in what looks to be a sharp wind. I know he can’t see us in here, but he seems to be looking right at me. Tyr gives me the side eye, his grip on my arm tightening.

  “I owe you, so consider this a courtesy warning; your man there is one of my employers.”

  20

  My fingers tremble once on Tyr’s forearm before dropping away. I shake my head, something cold dancing over my stomach as I take a step back. “You’re lying.”

  “He wasn’t in on the negotiations for this job, I’ll grant you. But this isn’t my first rodeo, lovely. Jack Frost’s one of them. He’s been on the Dark Council ever since I started working for them.”

  “I don’t believe you.” My heart seems to squeeze in my chest, as if wrapped in a tight fist. Jack? A part of the Dark Council? No. It makes—

  Perfect sense.

  “Yes, you do.” That rich voice is almost gentle as Tyr moves away. “And I’d appreciate you keeping my name out of it when and if you confront him. I don’t fancy having that one on my bad side.”

  As Jack’s eyes seem to hone in, despite the glass and brick and mortar between us, I don’t blame Tyr. My ex-lover is a scary guy. Apparently even scarier than I thought.