by JL Madore
Oh shit. Two graceful steps and she met him chest to chest, her breasts pressed against him, her hands stroking the wet skin of his back. When delicate fingers started loosening his towel and she sank to her knees before him, he cursed.
He stepped back and snatched his running pants off the vanity. After yanking them up his thighs, he raised Silver back onto her feet. “I, uh . . . won’t be needing your comforts tonight. You honor me with your offer, but you may go.”
Her face fell, her piecing green eyes emitting a sadness that stole his breath. “Have I displeased you, sire? I am here to serve . . . yours for the taking, in any way you have need.”
He scrubbed his hands over his face and cursed again. “Forgive me. It’s not you, it’s me.” He cringed at the human cop-out he’d heard thousands of times. Gathering her multicolored silk sarong from the floor, he draped it to cover her most feminine bits. “You have never displeased me. You are beautiful and warm and intelligent.”
“Then why send me away?”
Because I’m an idiot, falling in love with a demon. Was it still falling or had that ship sailed? He rubbed his face and wondered where the fuck his life had spun out of control. “There is a lot going on in my mind right now, sweetheart.”
“Forgive me. Your reasons are your own.” She gathered the fabric of her gown and pinned it back to a state of perfection without effort. “I shan’t return without formal summons. Forgive me, sire.”
Before he could argue or explain, she was gone. Fuuuuck. He grabbed the neck of the bottle he’d been working on and took a couple hard swallows. He continued to suck back the liquid sedative while he toweled his hair and made his plans.
It was late. His brothers would be out on rotation for a few more hours, and maybe by then he’d have shredded himself in the gym and come up with some way to explain where the fuck his head was, and how he bonded with the enemy.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” Throwing the empty bottle at the door, he watched in horror as the thing began to swing open.
“Kyrian?”
“Austin, drop!”
Shards exploded into the air as Austin screamed in the hall. He launched around the bed and raced to the doorway. “Christ, cowgirl, are you—Shit.”
Broken glass sliced into the bottom of his bare foot. Thrown off balance by the pain, he pivoted mid-stumble and ass-planted onto the hardwood in the hall. Grabbing hold of his ankle, he hauled the limb closer for a look-see. Perfect. It was a gusher.
“Austin, are you all right?” He ran a hand over her rounded back, where she was curled on the floor. “Good reflexes on the drop there, sweetheart. Stetson, go lie down.” As the chocolate furball offered him a sad look of confusion, Kyrian focused on his best friend. “Shit, sweetheart, I’m sorry. Don’t move, there’s glass everywhere.”
“I’m fine,” she said, “I just didn’t know you were using your wall for target practice. What’s going on?”
Even though the girl was blind, she had a way of looking right through him. Avoiding her gaze, he pinched the jagged piece of glass in the ball of his foot and pulled it free.
Sporting a dust pan, broom, and med-kit, Xxan strode up the hall eyeing him and the scatter of shattered glass. His long, purple braid tapped his hip with every step. Austin’s babysitter handed him the first aid kit and started the cleanup. “You bleed, sire. You must take better care.”
“No shit.” Kyrian dropped his head back and resisted the urge to crack it a few times against the drywall. “I didn’t know Seraph guardians did housework.”
The warrior maneuvered the bristles of the broom to herd the pile of glass into the bin. “I am tasked to aid Lady Austin.”
Austin rolled her soft hazel eyes and rubbed a gentle hand across her belly. “You thought Zander was protective before; most days, I’m confined to quarters with a bomb suit on.”
He was happy for them, he really was, but knowing that his chance for a family had just blown up in his face made it pretty tough to take. Kyrian covered his grimace by pouring antiseptic over the open gash on his foot.
Austin’s bodyguard returned from glass disposal and frowned. “What happened? I heard milady scream.”
Kyrian scrambled to his feet and hobbled his way to the desk in his room. Pulling out the chair, he sat his dumb ass down. “Just a stupid accident.”
The guy was hairy-eyeballing him, like he was some walk-in, fresh in from the streets.
Kyrian reached into his top drawer and thanked the heavens there were a couple hand rolled cigarettes and a lighter. He held the death stick between his lips and was about to be reacquainted with ecstasy when Xxan leaned over and grabbed the sucker right from between his lips.
“No smoking.” Xxan tossed his cigarette back in the open drawer. “Carcinogens are a danger to human young. Zandros has tasked me to keep them both safe from any and all threats.”
Kyrian held up a finger. “And I’m on that list? Is that what you’re saying? Is that you talking, or him?” If Austin wasn’t fussing with his foot, he would have lunged at the fucker. Inhaling deep, he ignored the roar in his ears and pegged the guy with a warning glare. “You don’t know shit about what’s doing with me, Seraph, so I’m asking you to back the fuck off, or we’re going to have a problem.”
Zander heard the drama unfolding at the end of the hallway and beat feet to check things out. As he turned the corner at Kyrian’s doorway, he cursed. Austin had her head down and a cloth pressed to the bottom of Kyrian’s foot. Whatever she was covering made a solid attempt at breaking free, as the gray terry cloth turned scarlet. Xxan stood at the ready, hovering beside her, and Kyrian looked like he was about to rip the guy a new one despite, the fact that he was only sporting a towel.
“Y’all need to dial down the testosterone. I’m fine. The baby is fine. It’s Kyrian who’s leaking.” Zander smiled. Her need to patch them up was adorable. That she was beginning to talk like them made him laugh. “Xxan, could you please ask Autumn to fetch Kyrian a couple of the assorted subs I made earlier, and throw an egg salad and a couple pickled beets on the tray for me? Oh, and a couple of those chocolate covered macaroons?”
“Eggs, beets, and chocolate macaroons?” Kyrian asked. “My taste buds shudder, sweetheart.”
Zander stepped inside. “That’s not even going to make it on the list of culinary horrors, Adelphos. Your inner foodie will be mortified to hear some of the things she’s eaten over the past few weeks.”
Once Xxan stepped down the hall, Zander helped Kyrian over to his bed. The guy fell to the mattress like a felled tree. All numbed out and tense, he looked like road kill and smelled like a distillery.
Austin offered a worried smile. “I’m guessing our boy here has absorbed enough alcohol not to need pain killers for the stitches.”
Kyrian waved off the concern. “No pain here. S’all good.”
When the food came, Zander accepted the tray and sat the two of them against the footboard. While they ate and caught him up, he sutured the gash in his buddy’s foot. As the Greek packed away the calories, he talked about his excitement about being an uncle, bathed them in his social charms—which had always been considerable—and fronted like only Kyrian could.
You spend a few millennia with a guy, and you get to know his tells. Zander nodded and smiled, until he’d put away all the pointy objects and wrapped the whole mess. “You gonna keep this up all night, or are you ready to talk it out?”
Kyrian cocked an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.
With her appetite sated for at least the next hour or two, Austin wiped her mouth and set her plate back on the tray. “Why don’t we let Kyrian settle for a bit, angelman? I’m sure he could use some rest, and you can tell me all about your night on the streets.”
Zander chuckled at how nonchalant she was about the details of his life—the details of their life. Still, he wanted in on this secret of theirs. “What has the Shedim bitch got over you, my brother? Tell me, and we can end it and put her down.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Kyrian was off the floor and flexing his fingers, like a fighter about to go ten rounds.
“All right now—” Austin stepped between them, her palms up and pressing on each of their chests. “This isn’t something he chose, Zander. It’s chemistry, biology, a crazy thing that happened, but you remember how it felt. It was confusing. Disorienting. Kyrian needs time to sort things through.”
Zander heard Austin’s words, but the only thing that rang in his head was that his brother had bonded with the sadistic bitch who’d tried to kill his wife. “How is this possible?”
Kyrian turned away and limped into his closet. After a few minutes, he came out wearing a pair of jeans and buttoning a white Dolce and Gabbana dress shirt. “Look, I need to get gone here for a bit—”
“Oh, no you don’t.” Austin pointed back to the seating area by the fireplace. “You sit your angel ass in that seat. You’re a hot mess and we’re going to have an honest conversation about what happened, and what we can do about it.”
Kyrian’s reluctant, low laugh filled the space between them. “There’s nothing to do about it. In a drunken, angry haze, I nailed an anonymous female in the washroom at the RedRum, and when I woke up from her poisoning me, I was in Hell—literally and figuratively.”
He paced over to his window and raised the sash. Pulling out his antique silver cigarette case from his back pocket, he flipped the clasp and pried the two halves apart. A rush of sweet-smelling tobacco filled the air. Propping a thin white cigarette between his teeth, he fished out his lighter.
Austin cast a look before Zander could object. “I like smelling Kyrian around the loft, and stop your growling. He’s fine smoking by the window.”
There was no telling his Ishah anything once she dug her heels in. “And you’re sure she’s your mate? This Cassiane?”
Kyrian stared at him, his gaze hard. “Would I be killing myself if I wasn’t sure? I’m living one giant mind-fuck.” He took a long draw and exhaled toward the open window. The night air of early November was brisk and filled with the sounds of club from two-storeys below. “It wasn’t all her fault, Zandros. Stryker and Devious lied to her. She thought she was avenging some horrible crime against her father.”
“She tried to kill my wife.”
“Is her motivation any different than why I went looking to kill her? I was tracking down that shooter to erase the fucker from the three realms.”
“Which you were supposed to do without fucking her.”
“All right, simmer down, both of you.” Austin caught Zander’s arm and cast him a glare. He hadn’t realized his wings had flared. He gave her a nod that he was under control, and she continued. “Does Cassiane know anything about the bonding? About the Nephilim mating thing?”
Kyrian shook his head and hauled another long draw on his cigarette. “If it gets out Nephilim are crippled by losing their mate, it puts you in danger. Besides, she’s not into me like that. Not really.”
“You sure about that? ’Cause, from where I was during this process with Zander, she’s as lost right now as you.”
He snorted and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “I doubt that’s possible. I stood on that execution platform, stupid-sure she wouldn’t kill me. Wrong. She gave the order without a second thought. If Drake hadn’t snatched me, my head would be on a pike right now.”
Austin paled. “Well, it’s not an ideal match, granted, but the woman lost her daddy, inherited an entire community on the brink of starvation, and—if she’s being affected by the Nephilim hoodoo, like I was—doing everything she can not to rip your clothes off and ride you rough on the floor.”
The growl that rumbled from Kyrian’s chest spoke volumes about which side of the fence his darker side was riding.
“And she’s a good person, right? Fundamentally?”
Zander barked a laugh. “Stop romanticizing this, cowgirl. Aside from shooting the two of you, she eats humans to stay alive. Don’t buy into this working out for them. She’s our enemy. It’s a no-go all the way.”
Austin crossed her arms over her breasts, which he noticed had grown fuller and even more distracting. “She could be his Ishah, Zander, his other half. He needs to go to her . . . or bring her here so we can all talk. We’ll figure out the daemon part when we know we’ve got something to fight for.”
Zander’s jaw flexed and hollowed as he grit his teeth. “There’s no we in this. She ordered you dead. I ordered her dead. She is never getting near you and if she tries, I’ll snap her fucking neck.”
Kyrian pinched off his butt and launched to his feet. “You won’t hurt her, Zandros. If you move on her, I will be forced to stop you. I’ll have no choice.”
Zander’s knuckles cracked as he stepped forward. The flames in the fireplace leapt higher. “You’ll do nothing until a decision is made. You’re still my second-in-command, and follow my orders. I’m going to check in down at the club and clear my head. You’re confined to the loft until I say otherwise. I mean it. You go nowhere unless I say so.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Austin leaned back against the headrest and tried not to laugh at the motley crew in Zander’s truck. She’d called this little road trip because the tension in the loft threatened to make her head explode. Kyrian needed the distraction. Xxan needed to realize Kyrian was no threat to her or the baby. Ringo was grounded for life and could use the fresh air, and so could Stetson.
“For heaven’s sake, boys, lighten up. This will be fun.”
She turned in her seat and smiled. As a member of the choir, she could see her bodyguard as well as she could see the archangels. Xxan, green around the gills, had one firm hand on the dagger sheathed in his weapon’s sash and the other on the holy shit handle above his head. “Master Zandros never mentioned an excursion.”
“Well, Master Zandros doesn’t make all the decisions. I will handle my husband when we get home. Besides, spontaneity is a virtue.”
“No, milady, it is not.” The truck hugged a turn, and his iridescent eyes rolled closed.
“Have you never ridden in a car before, Xxan?”
Her guardian frowned. “I dematerialize at will. I have no need for the confines of a contrived conveyance box.”
“Well, not all of us have that ability. And as conveyance boxes go, the Navigator isn’t all that confining.” She reached across to the driver’s side and squeezed Kyrian’s shoulder. “Drina is ticked nobody let her know you were back. You should have called her, sweetie. Everyone was real worried while you were missing.”
“I’ll apologize,” he said, hitting the indicator and pulling onto what sounded like a gravel drive. “I just don’t feel like celebrating my return or getting into what went down.”
She knew what that was like. After her family’s truck had been caught in that flood, everyone swarmed her, so happy she’d survived. The fact that her mama and brothers hadn’t made every hug and smile so much worse.
“Cassi makes me want to light myself on fire, but I can’t hate her. And I can’t take hearing how other people hate her.”
“Of course you can’t. I get it.”
He nodded. “I prayed you would.”
When the engine shut off, excitement lit in her chest. “C’mon boys, I’ve got a surprise waiting for us. Kyrian, take us to the ring.”
Kyrian stepped around the front of the truck and waited while Austin slipped Stetson’s harness on. When she straightened and raised her gloved hand, he gave her his elbow and headed across the working paths of the shutdown racetrack. “Drina and the clinic are in the stables, sweetheart. I haven’t done anything with the arena or the cl
ubhouse yet.”
She chuckled, her breath escaping in a white cloud as a Cheshire smile lit up her face. What do you know. Just like that, all his troubles fell away. “What are you up to, cowgirl?”
“You’ll see.”
They walked in a slow procession, both because Austin was blind and in new surroundings, and because Ringo was one bob and weave from face-planting on the pea-gravel. He laughed. Apparently, their little brother had lit up the club good and was still hung over. For a kid who never shut up, he hadn’t said a word in days. But that was cool. They all loved the fact that he was where he belonged . . . even if he couldn’t hold his liquor.
They neared the ring, the crunch of their footsteps below and a starless night above, and despite Austin’s words, he didn’t need to see inside to know. His heightened smell picked up the scent. “Well, what’s a racetrack without a few horses?”
She hugged his arm and laid her cheek against his shoulder. “Cheater. You were supposed to be surprised.”
Xxan slid the door along the rusty tracks and stepped inside first. Weapon drawn, the male was far more deadly than the babysitter Austin thought him to be.
Kyrian helped her over the threshold and saw Drina waiting for them in the center of the ring. “Ringo, buddy, why don’t you take Stetson to that row of benches at the far end. I don’t want the horses spooked.”
Austin undid the dog’s harness and handed it to the kid, along with the leash. Bouncing with each step in the soft, footing sand of the arena, they made their way to the two horses his Reaper partner had saddled and readied.
“Are they as beautiful as Drina promised?” Austin asked. “The Painted is for me and the Andalusian is for you. I could only go by their bloodlines and stats, but wanted them to beautiful for you too.”
“They’re perfect, sweetheart. Stunning.” He stopped in front of Drina, his throat thick, his eyes too moist for his warrior image.
His fuchsia haired partner looked him over with the clinical eye of the doctor she was and seemed to get that he was a bit undone. “Welcome home, Greek. These bad boys are yours, so you better get your ass back here ASAP to take care of them. I won’t just pick up your slack while you’re off gallivanting.”