Through a Crimson Veil

by Patti O'Shea

  For a moment, she stared at him, trying to figure out why he pulled back. What was he afraid of? The bond. Some demons ran from it, and since he was unaware of why he reacted so strongly to her, it probably frightened him more than most. Mika made a decision to show him a sliver of her own vulnerability. “I’ve never chased anyone before, never begged a male for sex, but with you it’s different. I need you, Conor. I need you on top of me, I need you”—she slid her hand between them so she could stroke his erection—“inside me.”

  “I don’t want this,” he said, his voice low and tight. But he didn’t prevent her hand from moving.

  “Liar. There’s nothing you want more. I can feel it.” Mika slipped her fingers past the waistband of his shorts and ran her thumb across the moist head of his sex.

  Conor jerked at her intimate caress, but he remained rigid, not returning the touch. Mika took her eyes off his bulge and looked up. His face was set in severe lines, and from the tension in his jaw, she knew his teeth were clenched. “You want me,” she repeated.

  “My body wants yours, but I don’t want this.”

  Mika studied him more closely. He was still in control and fighting what she made him feel, but she could break through his resistance. She was certain of that. And it wouldn’t take much.

  Her hand stopped moving on his shorts, but she didn’t withdraw it. If she pushed, she’d have what she wanted—him. It seemed as if she’d been waiting her whole life to join with Conor. But if they had sex like this, with him compelled by her and the vishtau bond, he’d regret it afterward. And he’d be pissed off at her. Big time.

  When it came right down to it, she’d more or less be forcing him to do something he didn’t want to do. That wouldn’t be as satisfying as being taken by someone who truly wanted her.

  And he might even hate her the way he hated his father.

  The dossier the Council had about Conor’s life had clearly cited his feelings about the demon who had sired him, but Mika might have guessed it on her own. She clenched her free hand where it rested behind Conor’s back. Her need to have him warred with her awareness that he wasn’t ready. If she goaded him, broke his control and spent the night in bed with him, that would be all she’d ever have with Conor. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind about that.

  Of course, once he discovered that she’d lied to him from the moment they met, she’d lose him anyway.

  She struggled some more, but finally decided there was only one thing she could do. Regretfully, she stepped back and stopped touching him. She hesitated a moment longer, then stooped to pick up her camisole. It was inside-out, but she didn’t bother righting it before pulling it over her head.

  Conor’s facial expression didn’t alter, but she sensed a change in him. Something seemed to ease in his features, and Mika knew a moment of bittersweet satisfaction. She’d done the right thing, there wasn’t any doubt about that—but had she given up her only opportunity with Mc-Cabe? Her only opportunity to mate with a strong demon? If she found the spell today, and was able to learn the other information the Council wanted, she’d have to go. And she wouldn’t be able to return.

  Yes, he’d know she was the one responsible for the theft, and he’d never forgive her for the betrayal. Mika’s lips curved, but not with humor. So be it, she thought fatalistically. Despite his fury, Conor would know she’d backed off for him tonight. Maybe that would balance things out.

  Even though she’d made the correct decision, she decided to torment him. It was only fair, since his withdrawal had left her throbbing.

  Mika tossed her head, throwing her hair behind her shoulders with the motion, and strolled away, making sure there was just enough sway in her walk to hold him mesmerized. When she was halfway across the room, she paused, gave him a flirtatious look over her shoulder and said, “I’m going to be in the shower for a while. Try to ignore the moans—it’ll just be the massager doing what you should have.”

  She waited until she saw that he understood. Then, with a soft laugh, she continued to the bathroom. This time, she closed the door.

  Dried off and dressed, Mika followed the sound of grunting to Conor in his weight room. He was bench-pressing an impressive amount, and she was fascinated by his flexing muscles as he lifted the barbell. Since he only wore a pair of shorts, she was able to see quite a bit of his body. She stood in the doorway, fingers tucked into the front pockets of her faded jeans, and enjoyed the view. A light sheen of sweat covered him, and she guessed he’d been at it for a while. Mika smothered a smile. Since she’d hogged the shower, he’d turned to physical exertion for comfort.

  As if sensing her presence, Conor put the barbell back in its cradle and lifted his head. Their eyes locked, and she quirked her lips. He muttered that she was trouble, and her smile widened—McCabe needed someone like her to shake him up.

  Pushing away from the doorjamb, she sauntered toward the weight bench. As she neared, Conor sat up and grabbed the nearby towel. Probably he felt too vulnerable on his back around her, and the thought made her laugh quietly. When she reached him, Mika looked at the moisture on the black vinyl and then at Conor. With a loud sigh—one she was certain was for effect rather than any real sense of being put-upon—he ran the towel over the bench and then his chest and face.

  Mika sat next to him, her body not quite touching his. The seat was high enough that her feet didn’t reach the floor, and she swung her legs as he toweled off. She’d sought him out with a plan—to set up a story so she could leave the house when it was necessary to rendezvous with her contact from the Council—but she was reluctant to lie to him again.

  Instead of starting her tale, she asked, “Are we okay?”

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t we be?”

  She turned her head to look at him. “Because of what happened earlier.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said.

  She reached for his arm to stop him from bringing the towel to his face. “You didn’t want to have sex, and I nearly forced you. Given your background, I believe I have reason to worry.”

  His expression hardened and a spark came into his eyes. Mika couldn’t put a name to it, but it made her heart pound. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything.

  “You couldn’t have forced me,” he growled.

  Tightening her grasp on his arm, she studied him. “I could have. You said no, but I saw you teetering and knew it would only take a small push. I almost did it, and I think we both would have regretted that.”

  McCabe’s face held curiosity, and she wondered over it until she realized how serious their conversation was. He’d only seen flashes of this side of her before now. The thought nearly made her smile, but Mika suppressed it. This exchange needed to be earnest. While she wasn’t sorry for her actions, she did feel he deserved an explanation.

  After a sigh, she said quietly, “You know I was raised in Orcus—for the most part, anyway—and if two demons want each other, they have sex. It’s that easy. I thought…I thought it could be that simple for us as well.”

  He tugged his arm free. “I’m not a demon,” he growled.

  The temptation to laugh was strong, but somehow she managed to resist. “You’re half demon, Conor, just as I am. As much as you pretend you’re human, nothing is going to change that. The drive and instincts of a Kiverian are deep inside you, whether you like it or not.”

  Some of the rigidity left his body. “I’ve got them caged.”

  “It’s not easy to cage something like that.”

  Conor didn’t reply.

  She debated, then decided there was no point in continuing on this path. “So, back to what I asked originally,” she said into the quiet. “Are we okay? It’s important to me that you don’t hate me like you do your father.”

  He hooked his towel around his neck, and hanging on to the ends with his hands, he considered her. “Your actions were nothing like what that bastard did.” His voice was even, unemotional, but he couldn’t quite contain the glow of his eyes. “E
ven if you kept pushing until I didn’t care about anything but jumping you, it wouldn’t be the same thing. You were teasing me, trying to make me take action.” Conor looked away. “He restrained her, used force to take what he wanted.”

  Mika traced designs on her thigh with her index finger. She knew this was a volatile subject, one she should probably leave alone, but she had questions. “Who called him out of Orcus?”

  “What?” The word was a warning. Too bad she’d never been good about heeding them.

  “The veil keeps demons inside unless someone calls them forth. Who summoned your father?”

  Conor didn’t reply, but the tense silence told a story.

  Leave it alone, Mika thought. But she didn’t pay attention to her own suggestion. “Why did your mother invoke his presence?”

  Conor’s expression became more forbidding, and his body was so tense that he nearly vibrated. Mika didn’t say anything, although she had a comment or two she was dying to make about the fact that his mother had shared any of this with him. Maybe she was wrong, but she didn’t think it served any purpose to tell a child he was conceived through rape. It had colored McCabe’s view of what he was, had made him hate the part of himself that was Kiverian.

  When he spoke, his tone was as tight as the rest of him. “She was a college kid dabbling in rauthima.”

  Mika was shocked into momentary silence. Was he aware of what his answer revealed? “Women who practice rauthima only call demons forward for one reason.”

  “I know that,” he snarled. “She changed her mind.”

  Okay, Mika decided, it was definitely time to shut up. She was ignorant of what had happened and it was unlikely that Conor knew the full story either. But his existence proved the vishtau had been in play between his mother and father—he wouldn’t have been conceived if it hadn’t—and that would have complicated an already charged situation.

  Rauthima was practiced by a very small group of women who had some magical ability. They believed their powers increased if they had sex with a demon, and while not every member of the cult had the ability to perform a summoning, a majority did. This sect had never been wellknown in the Overworld, but they were notorious in Orcus—and reviled. There was nothing a demon hated more than having their freedom stolen from them, and the ritual these women used to call them forth did exactly that.

  Mika grimaced. The rauthima summoning was a random call, but it ensured that the male who appeared wasn’t just ready for sex, but was aroused to a frenzy. Then, as soon as he finished his orgasm, he was returned to the Other World without even a minute to clear his thoughts or speak to his summoner.

  Conor’s mother, however, hadn’t pulled just any demon. Against all odds, she’d somehow managed to call forward a male with whom she shared the vishtau, and that bond would mean overwhelming sexual desire. A human woman, especially a young one, could easily be frightened enough not to feel that need, but a Kiverian male who was already whipped up to the point of mindless coupling would immediately be aware of it.

  Ugly was probably too mild a word for what had happened.

  Conor should never have paid the price for the circumstances of his birth. But he had. That was obvious.

  Mika leaned over and kissed his shoulder, before resting her cheek there. “You’re not to blame for anything that happened before you were born,” she said quietly. He stiffened and she kissed him again. “Nothing is your fault,” she added.

  “Leave it alone, Mika,” he replied. His voice held a thread of weariness.

  With a sigh, she did leave it alone, but Conor was her vishtau mate and she wanted to heal the damage that had been inflicted so many years ago. She shifted until her body rested against his, and enveloped him in a loose embrace. If anyone needed physical comfort, it was Conor McCabe. When he relaxed into her, wrapped his big arms around her, Mika knew she’d been right.

  Somehow during this conversation, there’d been another shift in their relationship. He’d reached something inside her, and now his needs were as important as her own. This was so not good. In the end, she’d hurt him; there was no doubt about it. As much as she might wish otherwise, she couldn’t abandon her mission. The Council had insisted she give them her promise to retrieve the spell from McCabe no matter what. And a demon would die before going back on her word.

  She couldn’t break her oath and lose her powers; they were too much a part of her. But it was more than that. The idea of going back on her word was repellent. The only loophole she had was if Conor didn’t have the incantation. But her instincts said he did.

  Mika kissed his shoulder again, a silent apology for her imminent betrayal. “Did I tell you that I have a cousin who lives near Crimson City?”

  She was almost being honest; three hundred and fifty miles was fairly close. But she felt sick over the falsehood anyway. Why did things always have to become so complicated?

  “Actually, she’s more like a little sister to me,” she continued. “After her mother became ill, she lived with my dad and me for a while.” This part was true. “When I’m safe from the demon that’s after me, I’m going to see her. That’s number one on my list.”

  “You’ll see her soon, Mika,” Conor said. His arm tightened around her shoulders. “I promise you that.”

  “Thanks. I’m sure I will.” Mika added a silent thank-you that he hadn’t asked why she was bringing her cousin up out of the blue. She’d blurted the information instead of transitioning smoothly, but maybe he thought talking about his mother had made her think of her family.

  This was enough of seriousness, she decided, enough of regret and angst; it was time to shake, rattle and roll his world. She turned so that she could put her mouth against his ear. “McCabe,” she said in a voice just above a whisper, “I came three times in the shower and I still ache for you. Just so you know.”

  Then she hopped off the weight bench, shot him a grin and escaped before he could recover.

  Conor wanted to take someone’s head off. Thanks to Mika, he’d never be able to walk into his bathroom again without thinking of her. Of her body, long and lean, pressed against the shower wall. Of her soft mouth open, her chest heaving as she gulped at the air, feeling the water play over her—

  “Damn it,” he said, stopping his thoughts.

  A breeze tugged at his open jean jacket, which he pulled back into place. It wasn’t cool outside, but the garment hid the weapons he carried. Not that he needed them. He could take out most anything without the aid of a gun or blade. A vampire moved close and Conor eyed him with anticipation, but the creature obviously meant to try nothing.

  “Chickenshit,” Conor muttered. Who cared that his eyes were probably glowing red enough to show through his contact lenses? He was spoiling for a fight. The streets were full, but everyone was giving him a wide berth. Did they all have to show common sense tonight?

  It didn’t help that he was picturing Mika wet and naked beneath him. Shit, how he wanted her. And the damn thing was, he’d had his chance. Mika wouldn’t have said no. He snarled at a hooker who minced toward him, and the woman immediately pivoted and returned to her spot against the side of the building.

  It was late, but this part of Crimson City still buzzed. Tourists mixed with vampires and werewolves, and he bet more than half the humans were unaware of with whom—or what—they were mingling. Stores were open, selling anything and everything at exorbitant rates. Their big, brightly lit signs competed with the skywriters beaming advertising to the masses. Cars cruised slowly up and down the boulevard; some of whose occupants were looking for a parking spot, others for a quick blowjob.

  This was a bad area, a seedy area, but no one seemed to care, or to worry about their safety. The tourists were too busy oohing and ahhing over the stars embedded in the sidewalk, and that made them ripe targets. But tonight, they weren’t Conor’s problem.

  He’d parked more than a mile away from the bar, hoping he could walk off some of his excess energy, but it hadn’t helped.
Conor knew he had to get his head on straight before he reached Hole in the Wall to meet his contact. The way he felt right now, all it would take was someone bumping into him to set him off, and that could cause repercussions he wouldn’t want to face—even in his present mood.

  Mika Noguchi. A week ago—hell, three days ago—he hadn’t known she existed; now he couldn’t think of anything but her. If he’d ever been this obsessed with a woman, he couldn’t remember it. Everything about her appealed to him, and he didn’t even care that she was half demon. What the hell; so was he. She’d teased him, taunted him, pushed him, talked with him—she’d even risked her life believing that she protected him.

  And she’d stood down for him.

  That’s what hit him the hardest. Mika had apparently cared enough to stop goading him this afternoon. His control had been hanging by a thread and she’d known it. One more touch and he’d have had her on her back. He would have been on top of her, inside of her, before she could blink. The monster that lived within him had been screaming for her flesh, straining to join with her.

  She hadn’t been frightened, but he had.

  Conor wasn’t sure if anything could scare Mika. The closest he’d seen was when she’d caught him holding her panties. As he’d pressed her into the wall, there’d been a flash of wariness—not fear, not even then—but she’d dropped her gaze, stopped challenging him. And that had shaken him enough to drive the Kiverian back inside its cage. He didn’t want her to ever be submissive with him. No, he liked her daring him, glaring into his eyes, invading his space, and yeah, even laughing at him, tempting him, provoking him…

  He swerved around three women who’d stopped short and began shrieking over the name on one of the stars. Mika would have gotten a kick out of this. Too bad he’d had to leave her home, but until he figured out just who the hell was after her and neutralized the threat, it wasn’t safe for her to leave his protection.