by JL Madore
“1895? And you’re sharing it with me over brownies?”
Cassi set her glass in her lap. “Your arrival is more of an event in our lives than you know. I’m sure you’re aware that Bo is attracted to you.”
Layne blinked. “That has nothing to do with anything.”
Cassi laughed. “That has everything to do with everything. It’s the beginning of your reeducation, Layne. The opening of your eyes. The realigning of your stars. Trust me. I’m probably the only person alive who understands your inner struggle right now as well, or better than you.”
Layne plowed a brownie into her mouth and shrugged. “No struggle here. I’m good.”
Cassi took another long drink. “You’re attracted to the enemy. You hunger for that which you’ve been taught to despise. You want to spear him in the heart and, at the same time, strip his clothes off and spear yourself upon him. Even when he’s nowhere near you, you feel him beneath your skin and pulsing between your legs.
Layne sat forward on the sofa and scowled. “Why? Has he drugged me? Manipulated my mind somehow?”
“No, that’s what you did to him. What’s happening between you two is completely different.”
Layne stood, drawn to the flame of the fireplace. “Nothing is happening between us. I got caught. He’s my jailer.”
Cassi chuckled. “I was Kyrian’s jailer in the beginning. In my custody, he was beaten, stabbed, and flayed until his flesh peeled from the mighty muscles covering his back.”
“What did he do?”
“He killed my father.”
Layne recoiled. “You discovered the man who killed your father, and you married him?”
Cassi leaned back and ran a pressing hand over the sleek teal of her skirts. “Once I stopped to listen to the truth of things. You see, I was raised to despise Nephilim, as most Darkworlders are. They killed my brother. They killed my father. They kept us hovering on the brink of starvation while they lived in the human realm as kings and gods. Does that sound familiar?”
“Pretty much.”
“But then, I stepped beyond the walls of my castle and learned that my insular understanding of the Darkworld wasn’t the entire truth. My brother walked into a college dorm and killed thirteen innocent girls. My father had innocent humans and a cherub slaughtered to start a violent revolt.”
“A revolt you disapprove of, I’m guessing?”
Cassi broke a piece of chocolate off the corner of a brownie and placed it in her mouth. The aristocracy of her upbringing rang thickly in everything she did. “I disapprove of the methods, not demanding the change. Darkworlders are dying because they break the laws and they break the laws because they are dying. It’s pitifully sad, and not the fault of the Nephilim warriors.”
“Your father didn’t think so.”
“No. You’re right. My father was a great male and a wonderful leader, but when my brother and mother passed, he lost hope. His answer to things became an iron fist and an upper hand. He sought revenge not reform.”
“Stryker was a god to Darkworlders, a visionary for a new future.”
“Why must a new future come at the cost of more lives? Death begets death. It’s a heavy price to pay for both the Darkworld and the Nephilim warriors.”
Layne chuckled. “Do you think they mourn the lives of those they dispatch?”
“Even worse.” She set her empty glass on the glass tabletop with a clink. “They carry the tainted soul of every kill within them. As children, we grew up hating their Marks, but those tattoos are only the visual evidence of their kills. The physical weight they bear is the tortured damned housed inside them. The torment of those lives haunts them every moment.”
Layne didn’t know what to think about that. They deserved to suffer, but that sounded horrific, if it was true. “I’ve been inside Bo’s mind and never felt that.”
“Perhaps connect with his soul. Like I said, it’s the beginning of your reeducation. Allow your stars to realign.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Bo had no idea what Cassi and Layne chatted about during their girl session, but he ended up with one very quiet female attached to his wrist. Did Cassi tell her about the mating madness Nephilim underwent? He wouldn’t blame her if she did. It would be nice if Layne had a friend to help her through this. Not that he’d hold his breath for that. How could he find out what was said?
Oh, hey, Layne, so are you all 4-1-1-savvy on the whole ‘you’re mine’ thing? Yep. That would go over well.
Oh, and by the way, your siblings are planning our formal ceremony. We’ll call them later and find out when to show up to get formally hitched.
“Why do you look like someone strangled your cat?”
Standing on the second tier of steps, slightly off to one side of the hotel entrance, Bo avoided meeting Layne’s gaze. Instead, he shifted for a better view of the street. Kyrian needed to take care of something before bringing the Range Rover around to give them a lift to Storme’s new hotel.
He’d thought about staying there with the Shedim, but wouldn’t put Cassi or her people in danger. Layne had ruthless acquaintances. He wouldn’t fully trust her until she fessed up and told them what the rebellion had planned.
Staying in a vacant hotel was the plan.
“Hello? Viking?” Layne tilted her head into his view and raised an ebony brow. “What’s got you so squirrelly?”
Bo stared at the side of the hotel, looking for headlights. “Kyrian will be here soon. I’m sure.”
“You in a rush to get somewhere?”
He sighed and shook his head. “Nope.”
“Then, can I ask you something?”
“I guess. What’s on your mind.”
“Can I look at your Mark?”
That sent his hamster tumbling out of his wheel. “I suppose. Why?”
Layne didn’t answer. Instead, she tugged him to face her and unzipped his jacket. The cold air hit his abs as she hiked his t-shirt up to his pecs. She brushed a hand over the ridges of his stomach, and he was at once in ecstasy and agony.
“You’re in excellent shape.”
Bo shrugged, focused on keeping his shit tight. This female, sullen and disillusioned, was without a doubt the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, and he’d cozied up to a few goddesses over the centuries.
Layne offered more than nice packaging. She had conviction. Yeah, it was misguided, but back in her apartment, she’d taken on Zander like a pit bull. He knew grown men that shied away from the Sumerian’s anger.
He respected the hell out of someone with a bit of bite.
Oh, and then there was her wild side. Shiiiit, when her passions unleashed, this pretty package could crack a whip like the greatest dominatrix of the BDSM world.
A shockwave shot from his gut, straight south to his cock. He cursed as Mr. Big Idea pulsed and increased his ache. He glanced down the street. Still no headlights.
Anytime, Greek.
Standing against his chest, she looked up at him, her long dark lashes framing those bright emerald eyes. He swallowed hard. She smelled fantastic. His lungs filled with her faint floral scent and his chest expanded. Her fingers kept up the lazy sweep over the moguls of his abs, and an electric surge shivered through him.
He didn’t dare speak.
If she’d fallen under a curiosity spell, he certainly wasn’t going to be the one to break it. He hissed as delicate fingers teased through the trail of hair from his navel to where it disappeared below the waistband of his jeans.
Oh damn. The tip of her tongue escaped the corner of her mouth and slid across full, pouty lips in a wave of glistening moisture. The stuff of fantasies.
“Layne, we’re nowhere private.” He froze as her little fingers-do-the-walking continued across his belly. She stole his breath and was quickly dissolving his restraint.
Sporting a perma-rection from the mating, with the sexploration of her nails, he also had an added gut-churning need thrumming in his veins. “Kyrian, any minute
. Soon, now.”
Yeah. Words hard.
Dumbass.
He shifted his feet to back away, but the retreat was half-hearted at best. A devilish gleam flickered behind those cunningly sharp eyes. She stalked forward, her mouth tilted to his. “Let me in.”
Wasn’t that his line? He didn’t know. He couldn’t think. What did she want?
She placed her hands on his temples and met his gaze. “If you want me to trust you, open your mind. Open your whole soul and relax into it.”
He felt the brush of her will seducing his mind, and all the game officials of his conscious and subconscious brain tossed up their red flags. Whistles went off in every direction, arms waving for him to stop play.
“What do you want to see?”
“Your truth. You say I don’t have the whole picture, let me see for myself. Here’s the test, Viking. Do you trust me?”
Did he? No, not really. Did he want to? Yes, absolutely.
The need in her eyes weakened his knees. A wave of lust burned through him as his beast fought its tether. He cursed the restriction of his jeans. “We should wait until we won’t be interrupted.”
“You’re stalling. You asked me to trust you. It’s goose and gander time. What will it be?”
No. The only answer here was no. He had no idea what she wanted to do. He had no backup. If she got in there with free rein, she could rape his mind, compel him to open the cuffs, and leave him a vegetable.
“Please.” She rose onto her toes and her ample breasts pressed firmly against him. Testing the seal of his pursed lips, she teased and toyed against his mouth. “Kiss me back.”
“Layne, please don’t fuck with me. You hate me, right? This is you fucking me over.”
“Would you believe me if I said no?”
His beast grabbed at his insides and twisted his guts.
“Kiss me, Viking. You can trust me.”
Something snapped in his head.
He claimed her mouth and surrendered. Mind whirling, lips fused, Layne’s presence invaded the shadowed recesses of his mind. On the front steps of Hotel California, she shoved him backward, their minds and bodies igniting as one.
Rough brick held him upright, her heated aggression hardly something to display in such a public venue. Lips and tongues plunged, parried, and invaded. Her kiss burned through his nervous system. No woman, human or immortal, had ever affected him like this.
His free hand slid under her coat to the small of her back. He pressed his palm on the warm silk of her skin and pulled her against him, pinning her against all the hard and hungry he wanted to share with her.
She stiffened against him, one leg coiled around him and hooking onto his thigh.
Holy shit.
The surge of his beast lit his Mark with the brilliance of a golden star. This battle was lost before it started. The kiss was searing and rough. He wasn’t in control and doubted she was either. He moaned as she moved through the passages of his mind and soul, her Louis-and-Clarke sexpedition giving her access to everything.
She stroked pleasure centers in his mind, her touch unexpected, and potent. He couldn’t fight the rush of orgasm that rocketed through him. The growl that ripped from his chest was all beast—the man too busy convulsing for self-control.
As she withdrew, he fought to breathe, to swallow, to remember his name. She tasted of confusion and hope infused with raw sexuality. It washed through his bloodstream and snapped through his cells.
“Thank you,” she said, stepping back, her pupils swirling silver with Djinn magic.
Neanderthal that he was, his need swelled even more.
The distant rumbling of an engine shocked him back to his senses. He turned his head and spotted Kyrian’s truck waiting at the end of the sidewalk.
Fuck, how long had he been there?
The orange glow behind the tinted windows suggested the Greek was chillin’ and having a smoke. He joined the fingers of their cuffed hands and drew a deep breath. “I’d like to revisit this later. You good?”
He couldn’t read her expression. At least she was still there, and his mind still held strong. He’d take the win.
He picked up her tote and backpack, and they walked to the truck in silence. After tossing her stuff in the back, he climbed through the back seat, his cuffed wrist lagging. She followed and settled next to him.
Kyrian adjusted the rearview mirror. “All set?”
“Yeah.” Bo cleared his throat and met his gaze. The scent of his cum and her arousal quickly permeated the inside of the vehicle and there was nothing to be done about it. “Sorry to keep you waiting, my brother.”
The top of his wings brushed the roof of the truck as he shrugged. “Been there, Viking. I got you. We’ve all got you.”
Bo sat back, sending Lady Divinity thanks for that. He was grateful for his family every day. Mated or unmated, warriors or wives, they understood the struggle.
Kyrian said something but Bo only half-heard what was said. He waited for the blood to drain from his cock and return him to reality. Proximity to Layne fritzed his focus. He laid his hand on her thigh. She was pressed close to him in the back seat. Closer than she needed to be if she truly hated him.
Funny, the closer he got to breaking through her defenses, the more he felt an avalanche perched overhead, threatening to bury them.
As the truck ghosted through the streets, stopping at lights and passing pedestrians weaving home from bars, he couldn’t slow the pounding of his heart. His ticker was making every effort to break free from his chest.
What the hell is wrong?
He checked the clock on the dash. 10:27 p.m.
“You meeting up after you drop us off, Greek?”
“Yeah, I’m with Brennus tonight. He paired up with the twins ’till I get there. They found some bizarre Darkworld death scene in the Don.”
Bo cursed. What was he doing, making out like a horny human punk at his first frat house kegger, while his brothers were knee-deep in a Darkworld situation?
Layne leaned forward, her brow pinched. “What kind of bizarre? Like, mass kill?”
Kyrian’s attention flicked from the road to the rearview and back again. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No. Seriously. I need to know.”
Bo frowned, his beast sitting up to take notice. He wasn’t sure if Kyrian didn’t want the ugliness they faced to touch her world, or if he didn’t trust her with the intel. Couldn’t blame the guy either way. Bo wasn’t sure either.
“Nothing for you to worry about, sweetheart.”
Layne slid to the edge of her seat and leaned forward. “Don’t sweetheart me. I’m serious. What’s happening?”
Being rigid military ‘that’s need to know info’ wouldn’t help. Bo could tell she was genuinely agitated. “What’s up, Layne? What’s going on?”
Layne’s mind spun a mile a minute. Was this it? Her time walking with one foot in each camp had ended. She needed to choose. And, as much as she wanted to stay at odds with Bo and his brothers, he’d proven to her that, at the very least, they weren’t the monsters she’d believed them to be. They loved their families. They were dedicated to change things for a better future. And they hadn’t given up on Taid.
Jhaia and Gheil had every right to be furious with her. Certain she was right, she put Gheil in an impossible situation and disrespected him as the Master Djinn. She thought he was weak and out of touch with the Darkworld. She practically forced him to exile her.
Heavy is the head that wears the crown.
“Layne? What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. Was she crazy? Was Bo brainwashing her to get her to tell him what they wanted to know? She met his gaze and saw the fear and worry in his eyes. No. Whatever else hung in a cloud of uncertainty, his concern for her and those around him was real.
“The last I heard about the plans against you was that the rebels intended to create a massive event to draw the warriors. Then, at
the same time, they would strike at the heart of the warriors. I think than means the wives.”
Bo swallowed hard and his color paled. “You think, or you know? Don’t fuck with us, Layne. Not about this.”
She blinked against the sting of tears. “I don’t know. I was tasked to find out the security of your home. That’s why I was in your mind the other night.”
“You sold out our females?” Kyrian snapped.
“No. Phoenix caught me, and I haven’t had any contact with them since, I swear. It’s a hunch, but it’s how Gideon and Xamia think. They’ll go after your family.”
Kyrian swerved toward the curb and jabbed the console, the tires squealing against the asphalt. “Call Dougal.” It rang twice before a male picked up. “Protect Cassi, Dougal. Lock down the hotel. I’m on the way.”
The Greek jumped out of the driver’s seat and left the truck running. His Mark burst out in blinding neon green. “I’m sorry, Bo. I gotta get to her.”
“Go. I’ll notify everyone.” Bo rubbed the handcuffs and spoke in that ancient language. When they were free from one another, he jumped into the driver’s seat, unzipped his coat, and pressed something on his vest. “Everyone, listen up.”
Zander gauged the melee exploding all around them. Darkworlders hemorrhaged from every direction. His brothers were holding their own, but the Red-Metal Rebellion was taking a massive run at them. Shades. Edios Demons. Shax. Dimme. Aswang. Rugaru. It was a who’s who of the Darkworld daemon species and they all wielded those fucking Watcher-killing weapons.
His Mark flared, the Quickening of his last dispatch triggering a surge of energy. The downed demon etched its way into his skin as he ducked a piece of pipe flying past his head and cracking Seth in the shoulder.
He fought through the burn of the soul entering his eye sockets, adjusting to the merge of strength. He wind-milled daggers through the night sky, cutting down anything that dared to come at him.
The Egyptians were in full groove. Phoenix had been tagged early with a bolt into his thigh, but he’d yanked it free, and it wasn’t slowing him down much. The twins battered and rammed opponents, their daggers taking out the attackers in front of them while their wings lashed out and shielded them from the cowards coming from behind.