A Killing Moon

by Alexis D Craig

  Cora felt her cheeks flame even if it couldn’t be seen and was gratified to see the flush in Finn’s cheeks as well.

  “So, will we be seeing more of you, my dear?”

  Blinking at the sudden shift in spotlight, she smiled bashfully, relief coursing through her when he didn’t mention the previous night’s gunplay. “I suppose that would be up to Finn, Your Majesty.”

  Licking her lips, she set aside her fork and the waitstaff stationed around the room appeared at her side in an instant to remove the plate and flatware. It was easy to forget they were there, paid as they were to fade into the background, and yet it was a bit unnerving to be in a situation where her every need was anticipated and met without request or question.

  “Well, in the event that he does, I’d love a chance to get to know you better.” The old man’s nose wrinkled as he grinned, and he patted her hand in a distinctly uncharacteristic show of affection. “If that would be alright with you, of course.”

  Nodding before she’d even thought it through, Cora beamed. “Of course, Majesty. I would like that very much.”

  “Excellent.” The moment he set his fork down, all of the dishes on the table magically evaporated with the help of the waiters standing by. Immediately small plates filled with interestingly layered pastries and new silverware were placed on the table. “I hope you don’t mind, my sweet tooth goes unindulged most of the time and well? Sometimes, it’s good to be the king.” His wicked little grin made her want to hug him.

  “More coffee, Miss?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Cora smiled up at the young girl with a nod. Another place setting was laid out, the cozy lunch for two now becoming a foursome apparently. “Are you expecting a guest?”

  Waving away his own coffee refill, the king took up his fork. “Marius LeStrange, my Chief Advisor, wanted to speak to Finn, and since we were here, having lunch, I invited him along. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course—oh hell!” All the klaxons in her brain sounded off at once when she heard the name ‘Marius LeStrange’, or as she knew him ‘Dad’, and the start made her flail and now there was blistering hot coffee all over her. Scalding liquid quickly soaked through the arm of her sweater and skirt, sluicing down her leg to collect in her boot as she shoved herself back from the table.

  “I’m so sorry!” the server squeaked, gray fur and whiskers creeping out in her twitchy cheeks.

  Finn was by her side in an instant with a napkin blotting the rapidly spreading stain on her skirt. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m good. It’s fine.” Two hands up, she deflected his attentions and the well-meaning deluge of staff. “Is there a bathroom?”

  “Of course, Miss,” the server who doused her held out an arm to lead her to the room, her delicate pink tail swishing behind her in agitation was hard to miss but nothing Cora could do anything about in the moment. “This way, please.”

  “One second.” Moving to Finn’s side, she whispered, “Talk to your father, spend time with him. You both need that. I’m going back to the castle to change clothes, or at least, get these washed, okay? The guards are here, and you should be fine. Watch the condiments.”

  She’d never get used to that slow blink, crooked grin thing he did when he was really happy, like even smiling was part of the enjoyment. Something about the expression hit her in an unprotected soft spot in her heart and made her chest ache a little in the best possible way. “Understood. I got this part.” An arm around her waist, he hugged her close to him and tipped her chin up with a knuckle, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as his face filled with apprehension. “I know we haven’t really discussed this, but I’d really like for you to stay. If that’s alright with you.”

  Licking her lips, she nodded slowly, hearing both the spoken and unspoken statements in that question. “For as long as you need me.” Part of this whole interaction may have been for show for the staff, but the warmth in his bright sapphire eyes told another story entirely, at least some of the more intriguing parts.

  Finn brushed her nose with his on a happy sigh. “Then I’ll send Vasily back to your place to get you some more clothes.”

  Dipping her head in a playful show of deference, Cora winked. “As you wish, Highness.”

  Chapter Six

  VASILY

  “I haven’t even been awake for an hour,” he growled out loud to no one as he cut through the crime scene tape to enter Cora’s townhouse. Finn had asked him as a friend to retrieve her belongings because she would be staying in the royal guest quarters at the palace, saying that he’d like very much to keep her unmentionables unmentionable for his Guards. Nothing travels faster than cop gossip.

  That was the sole reason he was looking through her painfully organized closets for a suitcase to toss her shit in. He did not want to be in that house any longer than he had to. Being in her space just felt wrong, or maybe it was just the space itself he didn’t like, but either way, the moment he found a bag, it was open on the bed and he was grabbing her stuff.

  Designer dresses from the closet, a couple pairs of shoes, and— “Who in the hell has this many pairs of panties and bras?” he wondered out loud, his outrage spiking the longer he had to touch her silky bits. They were small scraps of fabric that he tossed by the handful into the duffel bag, clearing out the drawer, or so he thought. One last check revealed a hot-rod red pair, and holy hell there was an image he’d just as soon not have of his friend’s lover, stuck in the corner of the drawer. When it didn’t come with a perfunctory tug, he was just about going to leave it when he heard a shift in the drawer.

  Another tug of the elastic and the bottom of the drawer pulled up at the corner, not revealing her bra drawer underneath, but a passport, no, make that three passports. US, Dominican, and French passports, all with her picture, with names like Liza Gibbons, Isabella Ortiz y Velsaco, and Elsa St Denis, two bundles of several thousand Euro and a couple of at least five grand in US dollars. Oh, and a small black velvet bag stuffed with diamonds, because why not? Driver’s licenses, birth certificates, the works. This was a stash spot and not just for an errant bag of weed. There was a void where a pistol should have been, and he made a note to frisk her when he saw her next.

  Finishing his first objective, he zipped up her duffel bag and loaded it onto his shoulder along with her garment bag. In the kitchen he grabbed a large reusable grocery sack and loaded all of her ‘other’ belongings. She would answer for this. He had no idea who or what she was, but today was her last day anywhere near his best friend and his family. His instincts had borne out and he’d been right to be wary of the Corvid traseistă. He only hoped his best friend wouldn’t pay the price.

  Dialing the phone the moment he turned on the Jaguar engine, he flexed his fingers on the wheel and organized his thoughts. There was no work without a plan and without a plan, nothing ever worked.

  “Daywatch Comm,” came the computer-generated voice over the speakers as he pulled down her street, eyes open for paths of egress for the would-be assassins as well as potential tails.

  “This is Commander Brețcu, access code Echo-Lima-Bravo-Three-Two-Charlie.”

  A different voice picked up a moment later, this one clearly human… ish. “Commander, a little early for your shift, no?”

  “Mos, my man. I have some weirdness going on that I need you to look into ASAP.” While not a Royal Guard, Nicodimos, with his diplomatic and intelligence community liaison skills, was the man Vasi trusted when he needed the whole, unvarnished story. Not a bird of prey, but you’d never know it with hunting skills like his. Smart, fast, focused. He was known for finding ghosts in secluded closets and that was exactly what Vasily needed now.

  “Are you alright? How can I be of assistance?”

  Chapter Seven

  FINN

  Lunch with his father and Marius stretched on for another couple hours, but Finn didn’t mind. It moved quickly from policy issues to stories of the fabled old days and the shared recollections
of two men who’d spent a lifetime in each other’s company as friends, comrades in arms, and family in every way but blood. He could learn as much from their conversations as he could sitting in lectures and seminars, easily.

  Still, Finn found his thoughts straying to Cora. With her letter-perfect manners and comportment, she went from an intimate lunch for two to an audience with the king without even batting an eye. He knew she wasn’t there to really be his girlfriend, but the next one he had, that was definitely the quality he’d look for. She was categorically unflappable, and that level of calmness was pretty damn sexy.

  Though he did his best to hide it, sometimes the anxiety of his situation got to him. He wasn’t prepared to lose another parent, in all honesty. The fact that they’d had a couple years to watch him waste away hadn’t really taken the edge off the finality of the situation and knowing that everything he was doing was in preparation for that? It could be incredibly heavy on his heart and mind.

  Which was why Cora’s effortless transition from ‘guard’ to ‘girlfriend’ in front of Xander and Devon had been so damn welcome. Her brand of distraction was… well, he wanted to feel bad about indulging in her offered kisses, but that’d be a damn lie. He knew the power of those full, sexy lips and wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to sample them again. He just wasn’t that strong.

  She was a mercenary, protecting him for money or country or whatever, but a part of him still really liked her. She was easy to talk to, understanding, smart, and so damn sexy his body practically vibrated with sheer want at least once an hour, more if he was directly in her company. It was unseemly and unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. Maybe it was her toughness, or sharp edges and remarkable unavailability, but he wanted her badly and denying himself was becoming more and more of a fulltime job.

  And then he had to go and ask her to stay. It was both a kindness and the most exquisite form of torture he could imagine. Her house was shot up, and as his pretend-girlfriend, she would be spending a great deal of time in the palace anyway, so it stood to reason having her stay in an adjoining suite to his was the easiest and most sensible solution. Even if he worried that ‘morning’ wood was quickly becoming an all-day affair the more time he spent with her.

  Her smile when he’d asked, the way her dark eyes widened in pleasure before she smiled at him kept playing over and over in his mind on a loop. He was pretty far gone already and while he had every reason to run in the other direction, he couldn’t seem to manage even a step that way.

  Opening the interior door to his suite, he found Cora pacing back and forth in the recessed sitting area with her phone pressed to her ear. Curls twisted into a bun on top of her head, she was positively swimming in a fluffy white bathrobe that hung almost to her ankles, with the sleeves rolled up several times, but still came down to her hands. Even without the contrasting color belt that matched the monogram on the chest, he knew it was his, and honestly, seeing her in his clothes, or lack thereof, hit him like an etch-a-sketch, shaking all other thoughts out of his head but her.

  Her and her bare feet on the Persian rug, the way she bit at her thumb’s cuticle as she talked, the tiny wrinkle between her eyebrows that showed her annoyance. She smelled like sunflowers and amber, warm and gentle like a summer afternoon. It was a study in fascination, and he was there for it.

  “You’re sure, right? I don’t have to tell you exactly how bad this is gonna go if you’re wrong, right?” Her all-business voice was so damn sexy to him, so in control, in command. Finn had no problem imagining her commanding legions to do her bidding. He sure as hell would. “Yeah, I need the paper on that. Email it and I’ll get it printed out. Thanks for expediting that.”

  Finn felt the moment her dark eyes catch on his form, the way her whole body seemed to relax and a smile that just seemed to blossom across her face. “One minute,” she mouthed to him, holding up a finger.

  Nodding in acknowledgement, he dipped into the closet to hang up his jacket and dispose of his tie, waistcoat, and shoes. He was done being ‘on’ for a bit and just wanted to kick back for a minute of peace. Listening to her murmurs, he came out just as she slipped her cell phone into the pocket of the robe. “You doing okay?”

  “I’m good. I’ll tell you about it in a minute.” She sighed as she collapsed onto the couch in a swirl of French terrycloth. “How was your meeting?” When she reached for her tumbler on the coffee table, he saw that she’d made one for him as well.

  Setting his cufflinks on the table, he rolled up the sleeves on his dress shirt before starting on the buttons. “Eh, it got better once I got them talking about the good old days. Marius has the best stories.”

  “Yeah, that sounds like him,” she grumbled quietly into her cup before throwing back the remainder of her drink in one long swallow.

  He paused reaching for his drink, watching her assessingly. “You know Marius?”

  Shaking her head with a sad smile she focused at her lap, she replied, “No, but old timers are good for a tall tale or two.”

  Finn waited for her to continue, then refilled her cup with a couple fingers of whiskey when she kept her silence. The air about her was still, darker than he normally saw from her and it concerned him. “Father had nothing but compliments for you, by the way,” he offered as a change of both subject and tone. He held his tumbler up as a toast before sipping the rich amber liquid. “If this were real, I’m reasonably certain he’d be seeking to marry me off. He still might.”

  She snorted into her drink and flashed him a smile that seemed grateful for the conversational detour. “He was very sweet. I enjoyed our lunch very much.” The way her eyes sparkled when she spoke of his father ignited a warmth in his chest that felt almost like a hug. “And no offense to you, but I hope not to be here that long.”

  Her lips smiled but it was hard for him to take joy in the sentiment. “None taken. Any movement on that front?”

  Stretching out to cross her feet on the table, Cora cradled her drink on her stomach. “I’m waiting on an email now. Nothing moves as fast as I’d like.”

  If Finn were a better man, he’d ignore the way her robe gapped open high on her thigh, revealing miles and miles of perfect, soft, sexy legs. He’d ignore the way her toenails were incongruously hot pink and glittery, a flouncy touch he would not have associated with her overall cool and measured demeanor.

  Setting his drink on the table, he slid across the couch to the spot right next to her. “Are you really alright?” Finn let his hand rest on her bare knee, the warmth of her skin too potent a draw to let pass.

  “As well as I’m gonna be I suppose.” Her dark eyes narrowed as she sipped her scotch, brushing her lips with her thumb afterwards. “Why?”

  Following the line of the robe, he trailed his fingers up the top of her thigh, exposing more and more skin incrementally. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t burnt by the hot coffee.”

  “Oh, I see.” Her eyes widened as she grinned knowingly. “Worried about my well-being, are you?”

  Finn reared back with a hand over his heart, the picture of affront. “But of course.” His pose dissolved into a dark chuckle as he crowded up against her, destination clear as his hand resumed its position high on her exposed thigh. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to this beautiful,” he brushed his lips over her forehead and tugged at the robe’s sash, “soft,” his tongue teased her bottom lip as he gently peeled back the lapels the white terrycloth to reveal body to him, naked but for a tiny pair of black mesh panties, “un-fucking-believably sexy body.”

  His wolf growled in pleasure at the sight of her, all that beautiful, touchable brown skin displayed against the stark white robe, all full breasts and long legs and goddamn. Biting his lip, he trailed his fingers down from her collarbone down between her breasts. “Fuck,” he breathed, the need for air suddenly paramount as he felt more than a little lightheaded, “I know I shouldn’t…”

  “And I know I should stop you. And yet...” Watch
ing him through half-closed golden eyes, Cora’s face relaxed into a wicked grin as she dragged his hand to her mouth and wrapped her lips and tongue around his finger.

  The softness of her clever tongue broke him, leaving him hot, wanton, breathless as he surged over her, her face in his hands as his mouth claimed hers. He swallowed her moan as she dug her fingers into his waist and bicep, just sharp enough for him to wonder about her talons. She arched underneath him, her breasts pressed flat against the wall of muscle of his chest separated only barely by his cotton undershirt, his fingers plucking at the tiny satin bow of her underwear at her hip, a request, an invitation.

  Her lips on his cheek, her teeth tugging at his earlobe, her tongue tracing the pulse on his neck, everything about her made him crazy. This was a terrible idea, but he needed it like he needed oxygen. Wrapping his arms around her body, he fell back onto the couch, leaving her naked and sprawled on top of him with squeals of laughter.

  The bathrobe slipped off her shoulders, collecting at her elbows as she pushed herself upright on his chest her hips settled firmly over the hard ridge of his cock. “Unexpected.”

  “Necessary,” he retorted with his tongue out to tease her. His hands on her hips holding her to him, grinding up against her to underscore his point.

  Mouth open to moan or argue he didn’t know, she was interrupted by her cell phone ringing in the pocket of his robe. Shoving a hand in her pocket and retrieving her phone, she held up a finger. “To be continued.”

  Finn chuckled as he rested underneath her as she spoke in hushed tones into her phone, one hand behind his head, the other running up and down her naked thigh under the robe. He could be patient, for a moment.

  No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than his own cell phone rang, followed by the bang of the antechamber door slamming open. “The hell—” He hadn’t even had a chance to attempt to sit up when Vasily, Xander, and Devon burst through his bedroom door, guns drawn and pointed at them.