by Luna Quinn
A burst of pleasure ran through him at Sasha’s playful punch. It was the second time she’d touched him in this playful manner. He glanced down at her, noticing the small, teasing smile on her lips. She looked so damn pretty, it felt as if she’d punched him in the gut instead of the arm.
He wondered what she would do if he gave in to his craving and kissed her right now. Probably punch him in the gut for real.
“Was that meant to be a punch? ’Cause it felt more like a kitten’s paw caressing my arm.”
She gave him a cute side-glare and turned on her heels, moving out of the alley. If Razor had been in Hellhound form, his tail would have been wagging giddily right about now.
Then she threw him a haughty look over her shoulder, her eyes sparkling. “That’s not what you said the other day when I broke your nose.”
He blinked, then threw back his head and laughed. Damn right, he hadn’t. He’d been too busy popping a massive erection.
When he caught up to her, he was still grinning like an idiot, once again reminded how little he knew her.
She was reading something on her phone, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “Looks like I might have some useful info soon. I put the word out to some of my slum kids, and I just got a text from one of them wanting to meet with me in two days.”
“A kid, Sasha? Great. And why two days?”
She slipped her phone into her jacket pocket. “It’s most likely a way to lose any possible tails. That’s the thing about these kids, Razor. They’re all so damn distrustful that no matter what, they’re always cautious. The way they see it, if anyone is watching, two days of doing nothing but mundane stuff would throw them off.”
“You know a lot about the slums.”
“Everyone forgets about the slums.”
“I don’t.”
She looked up at him, a spark of anger igniting in her eyes. “There’s a difference between knowing they’re there and actually being involved.”
He snorted. “You think I don’t know that? There’s only so much that I can do. I already spend eighty percent of my time in hotels—”
A humorless laugh burst from Sasha’s lips. “Oh, well boo-fucking-hoo. How sad for you.” She began making exaggerated hand gestures. “Look at me, I’m Razor!” She had dropped her voice to sound deep and was growling the words. Was she…mimicking him? He narrowed his eyes. “I’m whiny because I miss my nice, warm bed. Won’t someone please help me get a clue?”
“What the fuck are you going on about?”
She stopped walking and turned to him, once again serious. “These kids know your city better than you do. They can help. Don’t underestimate them. I know you and your brothers have done what you can to help them, and I know some don’t want to leave the slums, but don’t talk about them like they’re without merit. They’ve gone through hell and back in your city, worried about living to the next day, and they’re still good kids. Loyal to the bone. They’ve given me some valuable information when I’ve needed it.”
He studied her for a moment and realized that this was a big thing to her. She genuinely cared. Another facet of Sasha unveiled.
He inclined his head. “Point made. We’ll see your contact in two days.”
She looked taken aback by his easy acceptance of her impassioned speech. She had probably expected a fight. He could understand that; it was kinda their thing. But he wasn’t going to fight her, because she was right. Everyone in his land counted.
“Well, okay,” she said uncomfortably.
“Okay,” he replied, fighting a smile. If feisty, angry Sasha was hot, and funny Sasha was irresistible, this uncomfortable, awkward Sasha was just too fucking adorable. And once again, he wanted to kiss her so bad, his lips were tingling with the need.
As if sensing his thoughts, a tiny crease appeared between her eyebrows. Turning away swiftly, she continued walking. He sighed quietly in disappointment and followed after her.
For a second, he had entertained the idea that her teasing meant maybe she had begun to thaw a little towards him. But her quick retreat made him realize that he’d been way off. Maybe it would always be like this between them.
Would it really hurt her to smile at him more often, though? Because, fuck him, she had a gorgeous smile. It made her eyes glow from the inside out. He had long ago accepted they might never hook up, but at this point, he would take friends, at the very least. With benefits would be fantastic, but he wasn’t going to hold his breath.
After a few minutes of walking in silence, Razor pulled out his phone, checking the coordinates of where Corthiaa had seen the trespassers.
“We’re close, stay alert,” he called out. Sasha quietly pulled out a handgun, keeping it low on her hip. He tried hard to ignore the way his cock twitched at the picture she painted, keeping his eyes ahead of him instead of on the woman beside him who moved like a sleek fox.
When they came up to the (very obvious) point of entry, he motioned for Sasha to check the area. She gave him a sharp nod and disappeared around the corner.
The thick, thorny bushes that served as yet another visible Warning: Do Not Trespass sign had been cut down. A gap in the middle of thousands of sharp stingers mocked him. Piece of shit motherfuckers.
He walked in a wide circle around the area, searching for scents. He caught a few, but they were so faint that he wasn’t even sure if they were worth tracking. He couldn’t even be sure the trespassers had left this way, or if there had been more than one access point.
His phone vibrated. It was a text from Sasha.
Got something.
She included coordinates, but he didn’t need them.
Following her scent, he found her crouched over something several streets over from where he’d been.
“What is—” He didn’t finish because the instant he neared the area, the stench of Other blood hit him. A thin trail of it led to another trimmed-off section of thorn bushes, this one not as neat as the point of entry.
They’d been in much more of a hurry leaving than they’d been arriving. Yeah, because they had a fucking trophy kill with them.
He had to take several deep breaths. His Hellhound side wanted him to come out. He almost needed to shift, to leap over the wall and follow the trail. But the more logical side of his brain said that it’d be pointless.
“Stop it.” Sasha’s sharp command was at odds with the warm hand she placed on his forearm. She had touched him again, part of his brain noted. “You can’t hunt them alone, not out there. Just like human law doesn’t apply in Shadow Realm, your law doesn’t apply out there.” She motioned with her chin to Celeste. “You would have a target on your back even with Edge’s connection to the human president.”
Inhaling deeply, he pushed back the need to shift. Her words and voice helped keep the beast in its cage.
“Good?” she inquired quietly, her hand rubbing a soothing circle on his back.
He nodded and had been about to make a smart-ass comment about her bossiness and the fact that she’d touched him so much in one day, when he saw her concerned expression. The idea that she might care if he went after the trail and got hurt in the process warmed something in his chest. Or maybe he was just an idiot. He used his extended fangs as an excuse to keep his mouth shut.
“You got any scents?” she asked him after a minute.
He shook his head. The blood was Other, he knew that. But it was too little and too old to track.
They spent the next hour going through the entire block, looking in every corner with no luck. Whoever had entered his city knew what they were doing and, with the exception of the small amount of blood, had left no clues behind. The blood had obviously been a mistake. With both access points clean to the point of being sterile, the bastards had probably only left the blood because they’d had to make a hasty exit. The question was, what had spooked them enough that they’d left the blood behind in the first place? Had they been seen? If so, where was the witness and why the fuck had they no
t spoken up?
Irritation made him grit his teeth.
“I need you to get with Sael,” he instructed Sasha. “Have her set up a couple of Cerulis Demons. Those guys have better noses than even Hellhounds. Have them sniff out every corner of Three.”
He turned on his heel, his mind already turning over what bars and back-alley joints were in the area. He would hit them up tonight. Someone might have seen or heard something, and he was willing to pay for the info—
Behind him, Sasha cleared her throat.
“Yeah, about that,” she said, a little too casually.
He turned to faced her. Her body was relaxed as she played with the end of a dark curl. Her eyes said she was anything but.
“You’re my partner, Razor. Not my employer. I have ideas too. Why don’t you get with Sael, and I’ll handle myself?”
He knew Sasha hadn’t realized he had moved until he was in her face. Her eyes were briefly uneasy before returning to their same defiant burn. They breathed the same air for several heartbeats. He tried to calm himself enough to not say anything he might regret, while Sasha attempted to stare him down until she got her way. She was going to be sorely disappointed.
He bared his fangs. “Don’t, Sasha. I’m not doing this dance with you tonight.” He knew he was speaking more harshly than the moment called for, but he had to make her understand that he wasn’t going to get into any pissing contests with her, not while this case needed two hundred percent of their focus. “You won’t like what you find if you keep pushing me tonight.”
Razor was feeling less than polite. Trespassers had more than likely taken a live person out of his city, not even hours ago. Add to that his growing obsession with her and the fact that his dick seem to remain half hard whenever he was around her, even while she fought with him over anything and everything under the sun…yeah, she had chosen the wrong moment to try to prove to him just how much she didn’t need a partner.
“Xavier wants you to be out here, sleuthing away in dangerous corners of Shadow Realm, putting your life at risk—working side by side with me. You followed Xavier’s order to help me in this investigation, so you will do as you’re told, Sasha. A partner I can do. But I won’t tolerate an insubordinate brat. And that’s exactly how you’re acting right now.” He leaned even closer until their noses were touching. “He wants you to be his little Reaper soldier? Then act like one.” Stepping back, he gave her a sneer. “You have your orders. You’re dismissed, soldier.”
The shock on her face only lasted the seconds it took for her to pull out her dagger and toss it directly at him. He could have caught it. With his speed, he could have easily stopped it, or the very least avoided it. But he didn’t move a single inch, even as the blade embedded itself in his left bicep.
…
Sasha should have just gone home. It wouldn’t kill her to let Razor get the last word once in a while. Except she couldn’t. Here she was, thinking they’d finally made a good team. Thinking they could ignore whatever sizzled in the air between them and just focus on working together. While this search hadn’t yielded direct results, they’d worked together and made progress on their investigation without killing each other.
Well, until he had opened his big, stupid mouth.
And now, even as he calmly pulled her dagger out of his arm, he made no moves to attack her back. Which just pissed her off even more.
“I really hate you, you know,” she snarled, stalking up to him without breaking eye contact. It was a lie, but he didn’t have to know that. She hated what he did to her. How unsettled he made her feel. He threw her off balance, and she couldn’t have that. Not now, not ever.
“Fuck you. I’m no one’s soldier.” She pushed against his chest, hard.
When that wasn’t enough, she cracked her fist across his jaw. Jabbed at his middle, kicked at his shin. Hell, she even curled her fingers and let her nails claw down his chest to be followed by another punch. Move after move, she tried to hurt him however she could.
“Fight back, dammit,” she snapped when he stayed still.
Because what she was really upset with was his ability to break right past her defenses. And she liked it, dammit! Liked him, with his honesty and integrity and stupid jokes.
No. She couldn’t let herself get close with anyone, not anymore.
He probably wasn’t doing it on purpose, but it killed her inside that he had seen right through her. And that reminded her why she put up such thick walls to begin with. Letting someone in meant they had the power to hurt you. And for Sasha, make her doubt her chosen path.
After dodging most of her hits—but not all of them, she noticed smugly—he finally caught her wrists in his hands. His eyebrows were furrowed low, shadowing his black eyes. “Is this your go-to reaction when someone gets too close to the truth? Violence?”
She bared her teeth at him and hissed before responding. “Yes. It works rather well.” Or worked. Before you.
He laughed humorlessly until he noticed her knee coming up. He grunted and just barely moved away from the ball-crushing impact. “Shins? Balls? Is that the fighting style they teach in Reaper school?”
“No,” she said, her voice now hoarse and scraping against her throat. “It’s my style.” Something twisted in her chest, and she found herself speaking a raw truth. “Violence is a lot better than curling up and wishing for a death that never comes.”
Then she shocked both of them when she leaned closer to him. Brushed her lips over his gently. Let her eyes flutter closed.
Razor inhaled sharply, but remained still, not kissing her back. He just stood there and let her press her lips to his. Almost like he wasn’t sure what to do.
Taking the full leap, she kissed him fully. No feather-light touches anymore, she slanted her lips over his, tasting the heat of his mouth. She suddenly needed to kiss him more than she needed her next breath, and she didn’t care to fight it this time. She wanted to take advantage of him and the moment to shed the loneliness she wore all day, every day. He was there, not pushing her away, and he had already seen some of how fucked up she was.
There was no more resistance from him after that, and only a split second of hesitation before he was kissing her back. He opened for her, and her tongue swept through his mouth. He tasted just as delicious as she’d imagined. She was barely aware of the soft noise she made in the back of her throat.
His hand curled around the back of her neck, tipping her head back. She gladly let him take over the kiss, and the pleasure of doing so flickered through her. The slow burning kiss that made her toes curl was not what she’d been expecting, but it turned out to be exactly what she needed.
It seemed like he could have kissed her forever, but she didn’t have forever to give him. So she pushed him away, and he gave a soft growl of disagreement in response.
She kept her eyes closed and disentangled herself from his arms. Took one step back, then another.
In those few, precious seconds in his arms, she’d felt alive. And she couldn’t want that, didn’t deserve it. Deep down, she’d always known he wasn’t just the arrogant ass she’d written him off to be. There was more to him. If she weren’t so damaged, maybe she would have explored that with him. But she could never lose sight of her reality, and her goal. Neither of which included any kind of intimacy.
Inhaling deeply, she let the stench of her surroundings fill her lungs until Razor’s scent had cleared from her head. When she finally opened her eyes again, her shields were firmly back in place, though she didn’t look directly at him. She didn’t want to see his face and whatever might be written on it just now.
“We’ll do it your way this time,” she said, her tone flat. “Don’t call me unless you have a lead. If I find anything, I’ll call.”
With that, she turned and walked away, her steps measured and calm. He didn’t try to stop her, which was a relief. She wanted to make sure he got the impression that she was the one dismissing him, and not just running away again.
…
Her name should have been Chaos. That would have been more fitting.
Razor actually made it home that night. And all he felt in this place that had once been his sanctuary was agitation. He felt disoriented, like he was getting ready to boil over from the inside out. The home he guarded like a secret from the public wasn’t bringing him any peace. On the contrary, it only made him feel confined.
And he knew exactly who was to blame.
If he were smart, he would cut his losses and assign one of his commanders to work with Sasha. He was used to the bickering and mock antagonism. What he wasn’t used to was her blatant disregard for his position in Shadow Realm, whether it was on purpose or not.
And moreover, Sasha’s ability to shield any traces of her emotions from him, like a no service zone for his nose, wasn’t helping his mood.
In his living room, he dropped onto the couch, then immediately stood back up. He cursed as he fished out one of his smokes and lit it up. He took several puffs and began to pace the room as the scene from earlier replayed in his mind, from after they’d investigated the trespassers.
“Goddess fucking dammit.”
It still made him cringe. He had no idea where his reaction had come from. All he knew was that it wasn’t like him to lash out the way he had. He had dealt with harsher situations than a disagreement on how to handle an investigation, but none had gotten him so riled up so quickly. There was just something about Sasha that seemed to push all the right—or wrong—buttons.
He also had a gut feeling that he had only succeeded in inciting the rebelliousness that burned brightly in her gaze. He wasn’t scared of it, though; it was the thing that had drawn him to her the first place. Back then, when Shadow Realm had still been a newborn babe, it had been entirely too easy to find willing bed partners to celebrate with, and he’d happily ridden the wave of victory. But he’d grown tired real quick of being wanted only because of the recent victory, or for the reputation they would gain by sharing his bed.
Then Sasha had come along—all sleek curves and sharp, beautiful eyes—and unlike most other females that had crossed paths with Razor and his brothers during that time, she hadn’t even spared him a second glance when Xavier had introduced her as the new Reaper. Someone who wanted nothing from him had been a new sight to someone with Razor’s past. He could admit that it had all started as a sort of challenge for him. One that had turned into a misplaced crush.