by Lolita Lopez
Chapter Four
Celia gasped and sputtered, blinking as her wild gaze attempted to focus on the angular face framed by a mess of dark brown hair. When she regained full consciousness, she automatically lunged forward but something snapped her back against the chair.
Handcuffs, she realized as cold steel bit into her tender wrists. Not quite in control of her faculties, she twisted from side to side, fighting to gain her freedom as she spewed a vile string of verbal abuse.
Seemingly tired of her behavior, her captor stomped forward and clamped a hand over her mouth. Her furious blue irises clashed with Evi’s hazel eyes, and she felt his breath on her cheek when he spoke. Lowering his voice to its most intimidating timbre, he chose his words carefully, his English carrying a light Russian accent.
“Yell like that one more time, Celia, and it will be the last thing you ever do. Understood?”
Convinced of his sincerity, she stiffly nodded. He removed his hand and retreated to his desk, leaning back against it. Head pounding, Celia quickly assessed her current situation. The handcuff key was sitting on his desk, and she could see her holster and vest but they were too far out of reach. Had he fully patted her down?
Surreptitiously rolling her left ankle, she realized he hadn’t. Her trusty Fairbairn-Sykes dagger was still sheathed between her sock and boot. Better yet, when she wiggled her wrists, she could feel her lucky bobby pin tucked into the slim-fitting left cuff of the suit. As long as the handcuffs weren’t one of the newer sets, she had a fair chance of escaping. With the tiniest of movements, she worked the pin free, hoping that she could keep him occupied long enough to free herself.
“To meet again like this, Celia,” Evi said, clearly disappointed. “Why are you stealing from me?”
“Because it’s what I do, Evi,” she testily replied. Behind her back, the fingers of her right hand opened the bobby pin. Always prepared for the worst, she had removed the plastic tips from the pin years ago when preparing for her first job and had carried it ever since. But she had to keep him talking. “In case you haven’t heard, my father suffered a complete breakdown after Homer died.”
“I heard,” Evi softly replied. After a short pause, he said, “I can’t begin to explain what I felt when I learned he had hung himself.”
“Yeah, well…it wasn’t exactly peachy discovering him twisting in the conservatory or having to explain to my nine-year-old sister that not only were we orphans, but we didn’t have a pot to piss in.”
Celia maintained eye contact with Evi as she very slowly fed one end of the bobby pin into the keyhole of the left cuff. She bent the pin to the left before removing it, spinning it a complete turn and silently sticking it back in the keyhole. This time she bent it to the right, creating an angled L shape with the pin.
“You say that as if I had some hand in your family’s bankruptcy and your father’s suicide,” Evi defensively said, his eyes narrowed.
Still working on the cuffs, Celia chortled sarcastically and jammed the angled end of the bobby pin into the keyhole, jiggling it slowly and quietly to find the perfect placement. Stalling, Celia baited him. “Well, Evi, let’s examine the facts. Everyone knew that Dad was struggling with Mom’s death and Bianca’s diagnosis, and what did you do? You took Homer to Amsterdam and got him killed.”
Evi bolted from the desk and marched toward her. “I didn’t purposefully get your brother killed! He was my best friend, my only friend, Celia. What happened in that alley was just a misfortunate accident. No one could have guessed that we would have been mugged—”
“True,” Celia conceded, interrupting him. “But had you not been stoned off your asses, you would have been able to defend yourselves. You’re a shapeshifter, and Homer was a Ladrón. There were more than enough special powers between the two of you to fend off an attack!”
As she yelled at him, the pin slipped into position and released the ratchet, opening the jaw. Her left hand was free!
“Is that why you’re stealing from me?” Evi demanded. Chest expanding, he stabbed his finger in the air. “Because you think I’m responsible for everything that’s happened to you? Is this for revenge?”
“Not really.” She grasped the empty cuff with her right hand so that it wouldn’t knock against the wood. Hastily formulating a plan of attack, Celia decided that it was now or never. “It’s complicated, Evi.”
Yanking her still-cuffed right hand free of the slat, Celia jumped from the chair, landing just to the left of it. Evi’s shock provided the split-second that she needed to pick up the chair and swing it at him.
Even with her advantage, Evi was able to throw up a muscular forearm, shattering the chair as it slammed into his arm and shoulder. He caught the open handcuff dangling from her wrist, swinging her around and crushing her against his bare chest, but she threw a heel into his shin, knocking him off balance. A further crack to the ribs with her elbow sent him stumbling backward, cursing nastily in Russian.
Snatching her chance, she dove for her gun but he beat her to it, kicking it across the room and catching her chin with the side of his bare foot. Still sliding across the floor, Celia latched onto his ankle and pulled, felling him.
She jumped up quickly and snatched the handcuff key from his desk, hastily ridding herself of the cuffs. Flying to his feet, Evi followed and grabbed the blade, carelessly flinging the scabbard to the floor. Obviously unused to knife fighting, he clumsily brandished the long blade. Scoffing, Celia gracefully withdrew the dagger from her left boot, her left wrist masterfully rolling the knife into a ready position as she crouched and rocked her weight from foot to foot.
“Well, come on, big boy,” Celia taunted, flicking the fingers of her right hand and daring him to charge.
He did. She had to give it to him. The man had balls. Still, she evaded his advance and swiped the edge of her blade against his abdomen, purposely inflicting a superficial wound. There was something about being cut that quickly altered the mindset of an opponent.
Whatever their past, Celia had no desire to kill Evi. She couldn’t shoot him earlier, and she really didn’t want to open an artery on him now.
Clutching his oozing abs, Evi stared wide-eyed at Celia and then the blood dripping from his fingers. “You cut me!”
“What the fuck did you think I was going to do?” she asked incredulously. “You’re the one who pulled a knife first. I was just defending myself.”
As she spoke, Celia noticed Evi’s jaw tighten and watched in awe as the incision healed. Rolling her eyes, she roughly exhaled. “This is fucking pointless, Evi! I have the fighting skills and stamina of a Navy SEAL, and you can regenerate. We’ll be here all night. I don’t have time for this!”
“And what, exactly, do you propose we do?” Evi lashed out, clearly exasperated.
“Just tell me what you want for the blade and we’ll make the trade.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Fine,” Celia panted, desperate for a resolution. “Then just let me borrow the damn thing until morning.”
“Oh sure,” Evi said condescendingly. “I’ll just let you waltz out my front door with my family’s most precious heirloom with nothing but your word that you’ll bring it back? I don’t think so, Celia.” He gave her a hard look. “Why do you want it so badly?”
“I told you before that it’s complicated.” She knew that if she named Didier as her “employer” for this job, Evi would refuse to cooperate, even if she told him about Bianca’s predicament. There were few people within the underworld as loathed as Didier, and she couldn’t chance alienating Evi, not with so much riding on a successful transaction. “Please, Evi, just let me take the blade.”
“Forget it,” Evi callously said. “I’m not particularly keen on charity.”
“Well, I can’t buy the blade…but maybe I could just rent it for the night?”
Evi gestured to their opulent surroundings. “I’m rather well covered in the finance department.”
“Then w
hat, Evi?”
He studied her for a moment before stating his terms. “You. For the night.”
Eyes popping, Celia tilted her head. “Excuse me?”
“If you’ll spend the night with me, I’ll let you have the blade for one day,” he explained.
“I’m not a whore, Evi,” Celia disdainfully spat.
“No, you’re a thief.”
Visibly jolting, Celia frowned. “That was harsh.”
“It’s just the truth,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Look, Celia, you want the blade—and those are my terms. If you don’t agree to them, we can continue the hand-to-hand combat until one of us slips up—but don’t count on being the one who leaves here with the blade. So—make your decision.”
Her back was against the wall. If she failed to procure the blade, Didier would have no qualms about killing Bianca. Sizing up Evi, Celia had to admit that her chances of beating him in combat were slim—and that was only if he didn’t decide to shift. In tiger form, he would overpower her in a heartbeat, and since the entire house was grounded, there was absolutely no chance of snatching the blade and teleporting.
She was royally fucked.
Celia cast another glance at Evi, this time looking at him not as a worthy opponent but simply as a man. His facial features were sharp and captivating, his movements lithe and predatory. He was leaner, more sinewy than she remembered, and that boyish laissez-faire attitude that had endeared him to her all those years ago had vanished. In his honey-colored eyes, she saw only loneliness, grief and even a little regret.
So what was she to do? Though the lack of medication would cause damage, ultimately Bianca would survive the night. Without the blade, she would most certainly die. The choice, although difficult, was clear.
I’ve already made one deal with a devil so why not another?
“Okay,” Celia reluctantly agreed and lowered her knife. She checked her watch before clearly issuing her own terms. “I can only give you six hours and twenty-two minutes. I’m leaving at 6:30 a.m. with the blade.”
She might have imagined it, but Evi’s face seemed to register surprise at her acceptance of his terms. Harshly, he said, “Fine.”
“Fine,” she echoed coldly.
He crossed the space between them and trailed the tip of the blade down her cheek. He didn’t use enough pressure to cut or scratch her. He used only enough to remind her that he held all the power tonight. “If at any time you can’t handle it, you just say the safe word and I’ll let you leave. Without the blade, of course.”
Raising her chin, Celia unwaveringly met his gaze. “I’m not some punk-ass bitch. I’ll match whatever you dish out.”
Excitement flickered across his face and he slipped his arms around her waist, drawing her near. “We’ll see about that, Celia.”
His tongue rasped her cheek before it traced her ear, and Celia shivered not with revulsion, but pleasure. There was something exhilarating about a man who could match her, who wasn’t frightened of her.
“Don’t get any funny ideas about using your magic on me,” he warned. “My bedroom is protected with wards that will prevent the use of your powers. And just in case you change your mind, Celia—the safe word for tonight is topaz.”
Chapter Five
Holding the tip of the blade to her back, Evi directed Celia into the adjacent bedroom, his heart clamoring and pulse sprinting. He couldn’t believe she’d accepted his proposition. Truthfully, he’d simply been stalling while he tried to decide how best to disarm her. He’d been on the verge of shifting when she’d agreed.
He almost pitied her. If she thought this was going to be an easy fuck and go, she was sorely mistaken. She’d tried to steal from him, and now he meant to punish her. He would push her limits by teasing her with the promise of the blade, but when it was all said and done, she would leave empty-handed. He wasn’t in the business of rewarding thieves.
Almost painfully engorged, his cock leapt against the fly of his jeans. When was the last time he’d been this excited? Granted, the whores he hired from those high-end Moscow brothels were adeptly skilled in their trade, but they didn’t really stimulate him. They played along with his scenarios, always indulging him because they were paid well.
Celia’s situation was different. She was wild and unpredictable. Back in the office, she had squarely whipped his ass, leveraging her technique and spry movements against his enhanced strength.
Blood rushed through his veins at the thought of being so easily dominated by a woman. And that smell! Like an olfactory aphrodisiac, the heady sandalwood scent emanating from her sweat overwhelmed his pleasure centers, intoxicating him with lust.
“You stand here,” he ordered, leaving her in a space between the antique four-poster bed and his favorite brown leather Chesterfield chair. A low fire burned in the fireplace to the left of the chair but he wanted more light, more heat in the drafty room. He lifted the fire screen and tossed in a few more pieces of wood, using the poker to carefully rearrange them.
With the screen back in place, he turned to look at Celia, but there still wasn’t enough light. Placing the blade on a short stack of books on the low table next to the chair, he flicked on the lamp and sank into the familiar leather embrace of his chair, the fabric cool against his bare back.
“Take off your suit,” Evi said, stretching his legs.
“What?”
“Take off your suit,” he repeated.
“I need to remove my boots first.”
“Don’t argue with me,” Evi snapped, thoroughly enjoying his dominant role. “You’ll take things off in the order I tell you. Now take off the suit. Slowly.”
Celia hesitantly lowered the zipper concealed beneath a seamless flap lining the front of her suit. The material was like a second skin and denied him the peek he desperately wanted. When the zipper would go no farther, stopping just below her navel, Celia began peeling the fabric off her shoulders, her pace torturously unhurried. The material clung to her olive skin.
Fully exposed in her gray sports bra and hipsters, Celia shot a questioning glance at him. Her boots obstructed the complete removal of the suit. He’d been lucky enough to see numerous women in all stages of undress. Normally he preferred lacy lingerie but the sight of Celia in her no-nonsense unmentionables, her skin flushed, made him ache with need. He had to see more of her.
“Slip off your bra.”
Grasping the garment below her breasts, she pulled it over her head and dropped it on the floor. Without the minimizing effects of her bra and the suit, Celia’s breasts bounced into their natural place, her brown nipples puckering from the still-chilled air.
“Bend over and remove your boots and socks.”
Stomach knotting with hunger, he watched her breasts sway as she bent at the waist and untied the boots. The laces swished through the tiny metal rings and she shifted her weight as she jerked off first the left and then the right boot. She balled up her socks and added them to the growing pile of clothing on the dark hardwood planks.
“The suit next,” he instructed.
Like Venus emerging from her shell, Celia stepped out of the suit, her hipsters shielding her privates from his piercing gaze. The gray cotton was thick enough that he couldn’t tell if the mound hidden beneath was hairless or neatly trimmed and natural, his preferred style.
“Turn around and take off your panties.”
Facing the bed, she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her hipsters and dragged them down her hips and past her thighs, letting them fall around her ankles.
From this new vantage point, Evi saw the diagonal pink scar stretching from just below her right shoulder blade to just above her left hip. It was definitely a battle scar, probably an old knife wound, and it forced the rather ugly realities of her life into the forefront of his mind. There were others he noticed now. Cuts and scrapes and even what looked to be the scar from a gunshot wound.
What the hell had this girl been doing? And why? What had turned tha
t lovely, sweet young child he had once known into this hardened criminal?
Pushing away unpleasant thoughts, he concentrated on her exquisite form. Even with those scars, she was the most glorious female specimen he had ever laid eyes upon. He desperately needed to see more of her body, and his voice was unusually gruff when he issued his next order.
“Put your elbows on the bed and lean forward.”
Typically tall for an antique bed, the mattress met the widest part of her hips and when she bent, the angle presented her ass like a savory and exotic dessert. His cock throbbing, Evi yearned to touch her, to swat those full cheeks, but he denied himself the pleasure. Delayed gratification was a million times sweeter than the instant variety.
“Grab your cheeks and pull them apart.”
He saw the muscles in her thighs tense at his request and expected her to refuse, but like a good little prisoner she complied without a word. With her chin resting on the mattress and her fingers gripping her ass, she widened her stance before lifting her cheeks up and apart, granting him an unhindered view. A sparse smattering of pale hair covered her sex, concealing what he so desperately wanted to see.
Evi licked his lips, impatient to taste her. He eased down his zipper and his penis sprang free, the head almost purple as it pulsed. His finger tapped the shiny droplet leaking from the head and he inhaled sharply. The pheromones saturating the air were driving his inner beast wild.
He had always fought the urge to mate for life, to take a woman and claim her, to fill her with little tiger cubs and raise a brood of shapeshifters to continue the family line. Tonight he would have to fight even harder. Something about Celia, something about her piquant scent, made the tiger inside him rejoice.
But he mustn’t think insane thoughts like that.
Shaking off his growing need for this woman, he ordered, “Look at me, Celia, over your shoulder.”
Strands of blonde hair clinging to her chin, she lingeringly gazed at him, her pupils dilated, her face flushed. It took every fiber of his being not to pounce on her then. Instead, he grunted another string of instructions.