by M. J. Scott
Clinging to the illusion of normal was seductive even when I knew exactly what I was doing. I needed to summon some willpower soon and haul my butt out of there.
Trouble was, the sight of Damon lounging on the grass, jacket off, olive skin near golden where he'd pushed up his sleeves, and a lazy smile on his face as he slurped the last of his own drink was apparently my form of personal kryptonite.
He wasn't sitting particularly close to me, and he'd been careful not to touch me as we'd walked from his car to the truck and waited in line to order. He'd kept the conversation light, sticking to safe topics that didn't involve magic or anything that had happened earlier. Weather. Movies. Taco preferences. Apparently he wanted the illusion of normality, too.
Simple everyday small talk. I should have been immune to small talk. But he made even that charming.
I blamed the tequila. I'd started drinking the tea before I'd eaten my tacos, and it had clearly hit me too hard. That was the only reasonable explanation for why I wanted to scoot across the grass and lay my hand over his heart just to feel it beating.
If I hadn't found my powers, then he could be dead right now.
That knowledge stole my breath for a moment.
My fingers flexed, then curled as I fought the need to reassure myself that he was real. And alive. Because he was both. But he still wasn't mine, and I needed to...accept that.
Or just get the hell out before I made a fool of myself all over again.
The chill of acknowledging what we could have lost this morning melted my relaxed mood away. We could temporarily ignore the fact as hard as we liked, but we had a problem on our hands. And eating tacos and letting myself play “if only” in the lingering sunshine wasn't going to solve it. I crumpled the remains of my takeout containers into a ball and stood. "I really need to get home. And you need to figure out where you're going to stay tonight."
I didn't wait for his answer, just started walking across the grass toward the park boundaries and the lot where he'd parked the car.
"Maggie, wait," he called.
I stopped, turned. Damon was on his feet, but he hadn't moved from our picnic spot. I couldn't quite read the expression on his face. Or maybe I could.
No.
I was wrong. There was no reason for him to be looking like that at me. He'd walked away from looking like that at me. Still, I felt my stupid heart speed up a little. "What?"
His mouth twisted. "Nothing."
See. I was right. He wasn't looking at me like that. Stupid girl. "Okay, fine. Then let's move. It's going to get dark soon." I turned away, trying to tell myself there was nothing to feel disappointed about.
"Wait."
I stopped again. Turned back even though I knew it was truly a terrible idea. I'd thought I could do it—spend time with him and not want what I couldn't have. Turned out I couldn't. Because I did want it. And with every little bone he threw me, every smile, every time he made me laugh, or even, really, every time he breathed in my direction, I wanted more. Wished I could turn back time and become the nice uncomplicated nonmagical woman he wanted.
My fingers curled into my palms as we stared at each other. Seriously, this had to be over with fast or I was going to be in a world of hurt. Solve the puzzle, get the hell out of Dodge and away from the man who could shred my heart just by stepping into a room.
"What?" I repeated. "Is something wrong?"
"Not exactly."
I blew out a breath, trying not to let him see my frustration. Because he might just guess what was behind it. The only thing worse than carrying an embarrassing, can't-kill-it-no-matter-what torch for the man would be for him to realize it. "Then let's move."
"It's just—"
"Just what?" I asked when he paused again.
"Hell." He closed the gap between us with two long strides. "Just this." And his mouth came down on mine.
My brain shut down. I couldn't move. Couldn't think. For a moment, some part of me clung to the last dregs of sanity and came up with "This is a really bad idea." The thought flashed through my mind as the taste of him registered on my tongue, and then there was no more thinking as I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back.
This.
This was what I'd been missing.
In this kiss was the gap in my life that needed to be filled. The lack I hadn't let myself try to fill. The touch and taste of Damon's mouth and the warmth of him against my body and the sheer screaming pleasure of sparking lust and delight.
I'm not sure how long we stayed there kissing like crazed teenagers. A minute. Maybe more.
A delicious span of time that just was. Where there were no demons or curses or trouble. No magic beyond what flared between us due to good old-fashioned chemistry.
But all good things have to come to an end, and somehow we disentangled and sprang apart, watching each other warily like two cats who weren't sure whether to attack or flee the scene.
Damon rubbed a hand over his head. "I'm sorry," he said. "That was...."
"Stupid?" I said, my voice uneven because I was still trying to catch my breath.
"Yeah," he agreed. "Won't happen again." The words sounded sincere, but there was a certain alley cat glint in his eye that told me he wasn't. That maybe he wanted to play a little.
The thought was like a slap of cold water. I stepped back.
"No," I agreed. "It won't."
It was his turn to look surprised. "You didn't like it?"
"Doesn't matter whether I did or not. I'm not in the mood for—" I waved my hand back and forth between us. "—whatever you had in mind."
"I didn't have anything 'in mind,'" he said, sounding indignant.
"And that's the problem," I retorted. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans. "You and I...we were careless last time. We tumbled into bed and played it casual, and well, maybe it started casual, but it didn't finish that way. Not for me."
"You don't do casual?" he said.
I lifted my chin. "I do casual if I want. If I want no strings, well, there are a hundred guys in a hundred bars in the city who would do just fine. I have boobs and long legs, and I know how to use them if I need to scratch an itch." The fact that I hadn't scratched that itch since he'd left me was beside the point. "But I'm not scratching an itch with you. I was careless last time. And it was fast, and yes, maybe there were extenuating circumstances driving us together. But I won't be careless again. And I won't let you be careless with me."
"I—" His jaw snapped shut as his eyes searched my face. Then he straightened his shoulders. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't know how it was going to end."
"I know you didn't," I said softly. It hurt to say it but it was true. Just as it was true that he had hurt me, whether he meant to or not. "Neither of us did. Which is why we should be smarter this time. We can be colleagues. Friends, maybe. But that's all I can give you."
"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," I said as the car stopped. Damon had insisted on driving me home, even though I told him I'd call a ride-share. The short drive had been quiet. Apparently he was all out of small talk. We'd brooded as separately as two people in a car could. Me staring determinedly out the window, and Damon, from what I could see of his profile reflected in the tinted windows, focused doggedly on the road ahead.
I reached for the door handle, eager for the awkwardness to be over. I needed some space. Away from him. Needed to give myself the chance to remember why I had to ignore the echoes of his kiss that still had my body humming softly. I'd told him the truth. I wasn't going to be careless. Wasn't going to let him hurt me again.
But apparently that determination didn't quite translate to me being able to not want him.
"Maggie—" he said, and I held up a hand before he could finish.
"Don't. I'm tired. It's been a day. I just want to go inside, shower, and then fall face-first onto my bed to sleep for about one hundred hours."
"But that would make you late tomorrow morning," he said, one side of
his mouth lifting slightly.
The part of me that wasn’t immune to his charms felt that little quirk of his lips like they were pressed against my skin.
"As close to one hundred hours as I can manage, then," I said and pushed the door open. "I'll see you tomorrow."
I climbed out and shut the door fast, the thud of it close to a slam. The sound of safety. Proof of a solid barrier between me and him.
But as I walked a few steps up the drive, the sense of safety vanished, replaced by crawling unease.
I stopped dead, staring up at the house. No movement. No lights. Lizzie must still be at Cassandra's. The outer lights came on, dispelling the twilight shadows that lingered around the foot of the stairs and the front door where the porch roof shaded it. Being able to see that there was clearly nothing there did nothing to chase away the sensation.
Surely I was just jumping at shadows? My datapad would have pinged me and Lizzie if someone had broken in. My computer mojo may have been lacking lately, but our system was rock solid. And it had layers and backups. Unlike Damon, we hadn't had any unexplained power outages recently that would let someone bypass it.
Check the wards. The thought popped into my head in a voice so like Lizzie's that for a moment I wondered if she’d walked up behind me without me noticing. I made myself focus, calling on my magic. It felt sluggish, as though I was pulling it from somewhere sticky. Fair enough. I was exhausted. It made sense my magic would be, too.
But there was a shimmer over the house, as though I was looking at it through a faulty UV filter. I couldn't see any gaps or holes or any variations in the faint rainbow haze. I could see that I was standing outside it. Did that mean only the house was warded?
I looked behind me. There was a matching shimmer along the boundary line where my front lawn met the sidewalk. But it seemed fainter, flickering rather than shimmering.
"Maggie? Is everything okay?" Damon pushed his door open.
I held up my hand again, hoping like hell he'd be smart and stay where he was. I looked back at the wards on the house. I wasn't imagining things. The wards along the boundary line looked different. The crawling sensation had crept up my spine and flowed down my arms, making my hands tingle, a sensation somewhere between an itch and pain that made me want to flex them in readiness.
Readiness to do what exactly?
Protect myself from whatever the hell it was that was freaking my spidey senses out?
"Maggie?" Damon said again.
I turned slowly, still caught between the urge to flee and the fear that I was simply overreacting. After all, I was clueless about what the wards on my lawn were supposed to look like. But even as I stared at it, my bracelet suddenly went hot, and the ward glitched like a video pixelating before it vanished.
Chapter Nineteen
Fuck.
I jerked backward, but before I could do more, an imp appeared on the grass in front of me. If the one from Damon’s garden had an older, meaner brother, this was it. Half again as tall and broader, not so spindly. But it shared the sickly white, grease-bruised skin and the mouthful of teeth.
And the aggression. It lunged at me, arms reaching.
I dodged, moving faster than I knew I was capable of. But apparently not fast enough. Its hand clamped around my arm, and rot and death choked me as its breath hit my face. I jerked back instinctively and, by some miracle, pulled my arm free. The imp stumbled back, caught off balance as my jacket came loose and my weight was no longer there. I pinwheeled my arms to stay on my feet, then started backing up as rapidly as I could without taking my eyes off the creature.
The imp hissed and flung the jacket away, then bounded forward, but it didn't reach me. Instead it was flung sideways by Damon tackling it to the ground.
The imp shrieked and swiped at him with a long-clawed hand. Damon yelped but didn't let go.
I froze, not sure what to do. I couldn't fry the damn thing when Damon was in the way. I needed a weapon to at least distract it. A gun would have been handy, but I didn’t have one. What I did have was a rebar off-cut sticking out of the pile of construction junk in the front yard, the sensor lights from the house spotlighting it perfectly, about ten feet from where I stood.
I bolted, grabbed the bar, and ran back. The imp was starting to get the upper hand and had rolled on top of Damon, teeth glinting in the light. One thing nine months of renovating had done was improve my upper body strength. I smashed the bar down on its head. There was a sickening thud and crunch, and the imp collapsed.
Damon scrambled free and I grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet. The imp hadn't moved. Was it going to wake up? But even as I lifted my hand, hoping like hell that I could summon the power to fry it again and could come up with a good excuse for a fire on my front lawn if any of the neighbors decided to report me, the imp vanished.
I stepped back, startled, relief sparking through me. But before I relaxed, common sense kicked in. Where there could be one imp, there could be another. The ward around the house was still up, but after seeing the wards at the boundaries fail, I didn't have a lot of faith in them. At least not without Lizzie or someone else who knew what the hell they were doing there to reinforce them.
"We need to get out of here," I snatched my jacket from the grass, then grabbed his hand again and started for the car.
He didn't reply, but he didn't resist, and by the time we reached the car, his focus had snapped back. He flung open his door and slid behind the wheel. I staggered around to the passenger side and climbed in too. I'd barely pulled the door shut when Damon gunned the engine to life and we took off down the street.
I was twisted in the seat, staring out the rear windshield, making sure another imp hadn't appeared, but the lawn remained empty until Damon turned the corner and headed down the hill.
Then I started to shiver as the adrenaline crash hit me.
I closed my eyes and tried to remember how to breathe. How the hell had another imp found us? Or broken the wards? If I wasn't safe at home, then...
It didn't bear thinking about, and I forced my mind to go blank, to just not think. But Damon hitting the horn to warn another car out of the way as he drove like a bat out of hell shook me back to reality.
I was freaked out. But he'd tackled that damn thing. My eyes flew open. Fuck. Was he hurt? It didn't take long to spot the tear in his jacket; the nanohide had peeled away in a jagged gash. And there was blood on the blue shirt below it.
"It got you?" I said. "Shit."
Damon didn't take his eyes off the road. Just as well. According to the car’s jet-engine suite of dashboard gauges, he was driving faster than it should have been possible to drive through Berkeley. "I'm fine."
"You're bleeding."
"It's not gushing. It's a scratch. I can hardly feel it."
I put that down more to adrenaline than reality. Sometimes it took your body time to catch up with an injury.
"Maybe you should let me drive."
That earned me a sideways glance. "Your hands are shaking."
"Shaking is better than bleeding." My hands tightened on the jacket in my lap as he overtook the car in front of us, coming a little too close for comfort.
"What's better is us getting to Riley."
"We're going to Riley?" I hadn't paid much attention to where he was headed other than registering we were going in the general direction of the bridge. "We should go back to Cassandra's. Or maybe a hotel like she said."
"You think we should go somewhere with lots of people? What happens if one of those things follows us?"
"Righteous has lots of people, too," I pointed out.
"Not where we're going. And not by this time of night. Everyone was busting their asses for months before the launch. They're under strict instructions to go home at a reasonable time for a few weeks at least, if they're not taking actual vacation."
Most of the people I'd met who worked at Riley adored their jobs to an unhealthy degree. And I'd worked plenty of late nights with th
em. I doubted all of them would obey an order. If Damon did a headcount, he might be surprised how many were ignoring his rules.
"No people at Cassandra's."
"She has neighbors. And we don't know if they're still there. Cassandra was going to talk to Ian and Radha. Riley is the best option. You can call Cassandra or Lizzie once we arrive."
I could keep arguing, but short of somehow wrestling control of the car from him, I didn't think I'd be able to change his mind. Lizzie or Cassandra might know how to put a convenient whammy on him and make him do what I wanted, but I didn't. I'd done it once, accidentally when we were fighting the demon, and it hadn't ended well. And his ex-wife had manipulated him with magic. If he and I were to have any kind of friendship going forward, I could never use magic on him again without his permission.
I wriggled into my jacket, settled back into my seat and let him drive, still shivering despite the extra layer. I couldn’t call Lizzie or Cassandra with my teeth chattering, so I focused on trying to calm down.
I wasn't sure whether he had some sort of “one of the richest guys in town” free pass with the SF police department, but no one stopped us as he sped through the city streets. We entered the Riley Arts campus by an entrance I wasn't familiar with, one on the opposite side of the swathe of city real estate that the company controlled to the main gate that I was used to. There was a guard and a gate that meant business, but the gate swung open as soon as Damon nosed his car toward it, and the guard didn't try to stop us.
We drove along one of the interior campus roads for a minute or so before pulling up in front of a small building I'd never seen. Which didn't mean anything in particular. I'd spent most of my time at Riley in the main building where Damon's office was or the development lab suite where the Archangel team had been working, which was several floors underground.