Deceit can be Deadly (Law of the Lycans Book 8)

by Nicky Charles

  Chapter 29

  Gwyneth walked into the club, entering through the back door. Mystique was already open for the night. Thank heaven her staff could operate unsupervised. She’d not even given a thought to the business until now.

  “I suppose I should check what’s going on.” She stood halfway between the stairs leading to her apartment and the doorway to the club. Turn left or right? For once the driving need to stay on top of what went on at the club was missing. A bone-weary exhaustion had hit her, the idea of chatting with patrons and answering questions the staff might have seemed overwhelming.

  Dante put his hands on her shoulders and made the decision for her, gently pushing her towards the stairs. “I’ll tell Rudy you’re upstairs and okay.”

  “I’m sure Matt’s already contacted him.” She spoke over her shoulder concentrating on getting up the stairs. Even her legs needed prompting to move.

  “Excellent.”

  Something in his tone made her believe he felt Matt’s efficiency was anything but excellent. Questioning him seemed too much work though.

  Dante followed her up the stairs. She hadn’t invited him and his assumption was ballsy yet the idea of being alone right now wasn’t appealing either.

  She opened the door of her apartment and he followed her inside.

  “Nice place.” Dante looked around, walked over to the window to check the view and then bent to scratch Sherman’s chin. The cat purred in approval from his perch on the back of the chair. “Have you lived here long?”

  “About ten years. It’s not fancy.” She started to walk towards the kitchen. “Do you want a drink? Tea? Coffee? Something stronger?”

  “Definitely something stronger, but I’ll get it. You sit.” Once again, he took her by the shoulders and guided her, sending her towards the sofa.

  She didn’t protest, enjoying the fact that someone else was taking charge just this once. Sinking into the cushions, she exhaled slowly. “I can’t believe I let Cyrus dupe me like that.”

  “He duped everyone. Camille, the Coven members, his victims. He used the ‘harmless old man’ façade on everyone.”

  “He seemed so genuine. Even tonight there were moments when he seemed normal.”

  “When you play a role for so long it becomes easy to flip between the two.”

  “Are you speaking from experience?”

  “Yes,” he sighed. “I am.”

  “Maybe that’s why you never believed him.” She pointed out.

  “Correction,” Dante paused in rummaging through her cupboards to find glasses. “I never met the man until today.”

  “But when he killed Carlotta? That was her name, right?”

  Dante nodded. “Yes, that was her name. And no, I heard his voice, caught his scent, but he was a shadowy figure. I never really saw what he looked like. Ever since then, I’ve always been a step or two behind him.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing you finally tracked him down here.”

  Dante handed her a glass of wine and sat down beside her, placing the bottle on the coffee table. “It was luck I ended up here. The creation of the Alliance provided the missing information I needed.” He tasted the wine and nodded in approval. “Cyrus was getting careless, too.”

  “He was getting desperate. The spell he was using extended his life for short periods of time but the strength wasn’t lasting. Camille and I spoke briefly about it before we left.” She stared into her glass. “There’s always a catch to black magic, something that takes more from you than it gives. This particular spell, once used has to continue to be used; there’s no going back. And each time it’s used, the length of time it lasts shortens. Looking back, I think his mind was going. Dark magic is often twisted that way, insidiously affecting those who use it.” She took a drink of her wine and sighed.

  “He was probably hoping for a cumulative effect this last time. Killing multiple shifters at a time in order to get a huge energy surge.”

  She nodded. “It would have made him very powerful for a short period of time.”

  “If I’d been him, my plan would have been to divide the council. Half on your side, half on Camille’s. The infighting would have kept everyone occupied while I would waltz in and take over.”

  “Evil of you.” She slid a look his way.

  “Opportunistic. It’s how I’ve survived all these years.” He gave her a crooked smile and then watched as she finished her wine and poured another glassful. “How do you feel about what happened?”

  “I don’t know.” She stared across the room. “He was my friend. Or at least I thought he was. No matter how many times I’ve had to move and start a new life, he was always there, a constant in my life for so many years. I’ll miss that.” She took a gulp of wine.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.” There was a tight feeling in her throat, a stinging in her eyes. “I know you hated him and deservedly so…”

  “But that wasn’t the side of him you knew.”

  “Right.” She sniffed. “He could always make me laugh.” She downed the rest of her wine and then leaned forward to pour more.

  “Drowning your sorrows?” Dante commented mildly.

  “I think I deserve it after today.”

  “I’m not criticizing. Just making a comment.” He finished his own glass and set it on the table.

  “I feel guilty missing him. He was a monster who murdered people. He was willing to pit the entire council against me. I’m glad the man who did that is gone and yet...”

  “I understand. You miss the man you thought he was, not the person he became.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s it.” She leaned against his shoulder.

  Dante took her now empty glass and set it down, then put his arm around her. “It’s okay if you want to cry.”

  “I don’t cry.” She automatically firmed her chin, denying his statement.

  “Then relax against me. You’ve been through a lot today.” He moved so she was resting against his chest, her head tucked under his chin.

  They sat like that for a while, his hand gently stroking her back. Memories of Cyrus swirled through her head, eating the donuts Matt had given her, sharing a drink, his snowy white hair, his soft chuckles and twinkling eyes. Eventually the images morphed into her final memories of him, his face contorted, blood staining his clothes. His body dead on the floor. She shivered.

  “What?” Dante eased back to look at her.

  “I’m thinking of how he died. I don’t know which of us killed him. Was it you or Camille and I? We were working together to counteract his own magic and turn it back on him.”

  “It was me.”

  “Oh.”

  “Does it matter?”

  She considered the question. “No. If it had been me, I’d know I’d done the right thing and yet, I’d have had some regret which is stupid.”

  “I’m glad it was me.” He admitted. “I wish I could have torn him to shreds for what he did. Does that make me a cold bastard?”

  “No. I’d feel the same if I were you.”

  He gave her a hug. She returned the gesture only to notice him wince. Damn, she’d totally forgotten his injuries.

  “I’m sorry. I should have checked your injuries.” She sat up and began to unbutton what remained of his shirt. “I can’t believe I didn’t—”

  He stilled her hands, holding them to his chest. “I’m fine; Lycan metabolism and the remnants of that tea you gave me.”

  “Are you sure? I can get some salve.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t mind your hands on me but not to apply medication.” He caught her chin, tilting her head so their eyes met. “I could do with some comfort, Gwyneth. It’s been a hard day.”

  She studied his face, seeing the shadows that haunted his eyes, recognizing he was feeling broken, too. “I could do with some comfort as well.”

  Slowly, they moved of one accord, their lips meeting in a testing kiss, soft, gentle, retreating and trying again. They separated, eye
s meeting to confirm this was what they both wanted and then she stood to lead him to her bedroom.

  Faint light from the hallway bathed the room that was otherwise in shadows. It suited the encounter, both of them having dark corners of their life that weren’t ready to be exposed in the bright light. They undressed silently, watching each other, the whisper of zippers and rustling of material the only sound.

  Naked, Gwyn stepped out of the clothes pooled at her ankles and walked to where Dante stood. She took in his broad shoulders and toned abs. The wounds from his recent fight were healing quickly but still showed; she brushed her fingers lightly over the marks.

  “I’m sorry you were injured.”

  He drew her close. “It’s not the first fight I’ve been in.”

  “The last?” She cocked her head.

  “Maybe. I’m done with Lycan Link.”

  “I don’t understand your role with them.”

  He shook his head. “It’s complicated. And we’ve better things to do right now.” He cupped her face and kissed her, his tongue probing, asking for admittance.

  She opened to him, the kiss quickly growing deeper, more demanding. Her hands roamed his shoulders, his back. He picked her up and she straddled his hips as he walked them to the bed before easing her down onto the quilt.

  “Gorgeous.” He stood gazing down at her, his desire obvious.

  She raised her hands and he answered the silent invitation to join her.

  He kissed her forehead then trailed his lips down her cheek to her jaw and finally her throat, pausing at the sweet spot where her shoulder and neck met. She moved her head to the side, murmuring in pleasure as he nuzzled before moving on to her collar bone and drifting lower.

  When his lips met the curve of her breast, her breath caught in anticipation of feeling his hot, wet mouth on her nipple. He paused, teasing before taking her in his mouth.

  She gave a soft cry of pleasure. “Ahh, that feels good.”

  Dante chuckled softly and then used his hand to knead the neglected breast, his roughened palms gently abrading the sensitive skin while she traced the length of his spine.

  “I love the taste of you.” The words rumbled from him as he abandoned her breasts and moved to her belly. “I need more.”

  The stubble of his chin teased her inner thighs as he moved lower still and then she gasped as his tongue began to flick her most sensitive flesh. Her fingers grabbed his hair as an anchor, her whole body reacting to his ministration in the most delicious way possible.

  When she was spent, he rose to lie beside her and she gave him a languid smile. “That was wonderful, Dante. Thank you.”

  “Let me know when you’re ready for more.” His hands gently slid down her body in soothing strokes, tracing the blue lines of her veins, circling her pink areoles.

  Purring, she stretched enjoying the attention before eventually sitting up and pushing him onto his back. “Your turn.”

  His eyes lit with interest, a smile curving his mouth. “What do you have in mind?”

  “A bit of this.” She gently ran her nails over his chest watching as goosebumps appeared before soothing his skin with her mouth. “And a bit of that.”

  “I like this and that.”

  “I figured you would.” She laughed softly, repeating the gesture on his stomach and then his thighs. Her hair brushed his cock and he jerked in response so she repeated the gesture until he was groaning, his hands clenching the sheets.

  “Gwyneth, I appreciate your efforts but…oh hell.”

  In a blur of movement, he had her on her back and he was looming over her.

  “Condom?” He panted.

  She reached over to the bedside table and handed him one, watched as he sheathed himself and then gripped his hips, her thighs parting to welcome him.

  He braced himself with his forearms on either side of her, the warmth of his body surrounding her. Kissing her deeply, he eased in. She moaned, loving the feeling of fullness.

  “You feel so good, so hot.” He breathed the words. “Just like I imagined.”

  “You imagined having sex with me?”

  “Many, many times.” He punctuated the words with slow strokes that had her gasping. “You never imagined that?”

  “Having sex with myself. No, can’t say I have.”

  He laughed and nipped her chin before focusing on creating a rhythm that slowly grew in intensity and strength.

  She held him tight, her fingers clasping his sweat-slicked back as the tension grew within her. His body surged into hers over and over, driving them both to greater heights with each thrust until they exploded in a cataclysm of sensation that left them spiralling back to earth in a breathless heap.

  Some time later when their breathing had steadied, they lay in each other’s arms. Dante was slowly stroking her shoulder while she watched the rise and fall of his chest. She was warm, relaxed, hovering on the edge of sleep.

  “Have you ever been in love?” Dante’s voice was low and husky.

  “I thought I was in love once. It was years ago. I was more child than woman at the time, only I didn’t realize it.”

  “Same here.”

  She quirked a brow. “You were a woman?”

  He looked at her askance and then chuckled. “No. Definitely male but young. I was in love though. And she was young and beautiful and in love with me.”

  “This was Carlotta?”

  He nodded. “I had to return to school but I promised I’d come back for her. I meant it, too.”

  “Tomas made promises too, but he was a liar.”

  “Tomas? That was his name?”

  “Yes. He told me he loved me but then married another.”

  “Bastard.”

  “That was one of the names I called him.”

  He was silent for a few minutes. “Tomorrow is the anniversary of her death.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.” He sighed. “I wonder what would have happened if she’d lived. If we’d been a family and raised Damien together.”

  “She was Damien’s mother?” She looked up at him in surprise.

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t realize.”

  “There’s no way you could have known.” He wrapped one of her curls around his finger. “Damien only found out today, too.”

  “And how did that go?”

  He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Hard to tell. It was a shock for him to find out I was his father and then to learn his mother had been murdered. It’s a lot for anyone to absorb.”

  “True.”

  “I can see Carlotta in him. His hair and eyes. The way he tilts his head when he’s thinking.”

  “You remember that about her after all these years?”

  He sighed, imagining Carlotta in his mind, her smile, the way her eyes lit up when something amused her. “Love doesn’t forget.”

  Gwyn made no comment.

  He glanced down and noticed she was sleeping. He reached down and pulled the covers up around her shoulders. Asleep, her features were soft, her long red hair curling gently about her face. This was the side of her he’d caught glimpses of, the side of her he’d love to know better. Her quick wit and temper drew him to her but there was more to her than what she showed the world. He wanted to be the one to uncover her hidden depths. The question was, would she let him or would she push him away?

  He stared at the ceiling wondering if it was Tomas’ betrayal that had her keeping everyone at arm’s length or if it was connected to the blood spell she’d enacted. His snitch said blood spells were very hard to complete successfully and usually involved a major sacrifice. Had she sacrificed the softer side of herself for a longer life? And if so, why?

  It was a puzzle he could devote his time to, now that he was no longer on the trail of the malefic witch. That and trying to build some kind of relationship with his son. They’d never be close but hopefully he could help Damien avoid the curse that plagued their family.

  Sam
padded down the stairs in search of Damien. His side of the bed was cold indicating he’d been gone for some time rather than a quick trip to the bathroom. A light filtered from the office which was odd. Damien hated paperwork and there were no outstanding forms or reports that needed to be submitted.

  Quietly, she approached, getting a glimpse inside the office through the partially closed door. Damien was sitting at the desk, a nearly empty bottle of liquor near his elbow, his eyes fixed on the computer screen.

  She studied him, taking in the musculature of his chest, the dark stubble that graced his chin and the way his hair was mussed as if he’d run his hand through it one too many times. There was no denying her mate was a handsome man but it wasn’t desire that stirred in her now. He’d been quiet ever since they’d left the Universal Coven, barely speaking, leaving it to the others to recount the events that had happened inside while she’d waited safely in the car. After dinner, he’d gone on patrol having unexpectedly traded duty with one of the other pack members and not returning until she was already in bed. He’d given her a perfunctory peck on the cheek and rolled over facing away from her rather than spooning as they usually did.

  Did she give him more space, or push? Even as she debated he spoke.

  “I know you’re out there.”

  She pushed the door open and stood in the entrance. “Can’t get anything past those superior Lycan senses of yours, can I?” Her small joke was met with silence. He didn’t even look up. She waited a beat and then walked over to the desk to examine the bottle. It had been full last time she’d seen it. Damien hadn’t drunk heavily in quite some time, not since he’d been in mourning for Beth when they’d first met.

  “I’m not drunk.”

  She set the bottle down and circled the desk to place her hands on his shoulders. “I didn’t say you were.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “What are you researching?”

  “Reno gave me a thumb drive with all the information he had on Dante and my mother.”

  “Oh.” She waited but he didn’t elaborate. “Can I read it?”

  He turned the screen towards her so she sat on the arm of his chair and scanned the data. Reno had shared some of the facts with her but not all. “He’s very clever according to the Academy records.”