Aaron sprang in, fast and hard. Ezra blocked two strikes then staggered when Aaron landed a kick to his knee.
“Quit it, Ezra!” he barked. “Tori knows you’re fast. Don’t waste my workout holding back.”
Ezra puffed, then leaped at Aaron. The blows flew between them so fast I couldn’t follow the action, then Aaron hit the floor on his stomach, Ezra pinning his arm backward. Aaron slapped the mats and Ezra released him.
“Shit,” he panted. “Jeez, man.”
Not even winded, Ezra rose to his feet and shrugged. “You told me not to hold back.”
Aaron growled something and clambered up. “Again.”
They launched at each other. Twice more, Ezra pinned Aaron within thirty seconds. Finally, Kai called time.
“All right,” the electramage said, tossing the stopwatch aside. “Final round.”
Grinning, Aaron faced Ezra again—and Kai took up the spot beside him. Two against one.
Swallowing hard, I stopped the treadmill in case the distraction caused me to wipe out.
The guys got into their stances, and Kai counted down. “Three, two, one, go.”
Ezra sprang at Kai, but he darted away. He and Aaron split up, flanking Ezra, then attacked simultaneously. Somehow, Ezra evaded their strikes, his movements a blur. He caught Aaron’s ankle mid-kick and yanked him off his feet, then went for Kai. The electramage slid aside, but Ezra tackled him from a standstill. They went down in a tangle, each fighting to get on top.
Aaron popped onto his feet, hovered over the grappling pair for a second, then jumped in. Ten seconds later, Ezra was pinned under the other two, slapping at the mats with Kai’s legs clamped around his neck and Aaron bending his knee back.
Laughing breathlessly, Aaron flopped on the mats. “Damn. You’re always faster than I expect.”
I cleared my throat, my heart racing and my brain confused on several levels. The violence was unnerving, but there was something carnally appealing about watching them attack each other. If this was the regularly scheduled programming, I hereby volunteered to work out with them every morning. Yes please.
As they stripped off their sparring gear, I finally dared to speak. “Are you done your routine now?”
“Not quite.” Aaron tossed his helmet into the bin. “We need to cool down, but first, we’ll finish with a round of competitive pushups.”
“Competitive pushups?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t sound excited as he got down on his hands and knees in the center of the mats. Kai and Ezra followed suit, taking the spots on either side of him. “We do pushups until one of us can’t finish the set. The loser makes breakfast.”
As he and Kai steeled themselves for the coming challenge, my eyebrows shot up. Three hours into their workout and they were finishing with a round of pushups? The guys were insane. Or masochists. Or both.
“But Ezra isn’t allowed in the kitchen,” I pointed out. “He can’t make breakfast.”
“Ezra,” Aaron growled as he straightened his body into a tense plank propped up by his extended arms, “has never lost, so it’s a moot poi—wait. Oh man. I have a wonderful idea.”
Equally bemused, Kai, Ezra, and I watched him hop onto his feet. He gestured at me.
“C’mere, Tori.”
Eyebrows climbing higher, I kicked my shoes off and walked over. He took my elbow and pulled me to Ezra, who was waiting on his hands and knees, head canted to watch us.
“Get on his back,” Aaron said.
My mouth fell open. “What?”
“What?” Ezra demanded.
“Sit on him!” Aaron grinned diabolically. “There’s no way he can outlast us with an extra hundred pounds to lift.”
I weighed more than a hundred pounds but decided not to point that out.
“That’s completely unfair,” Ezra protested.
“It’s totally fair,” Kai interjected. “You have the unfair advantage. Do it, Tori.”
I looked rapidly between the three guys. “Uh …”
“I want to see him struggle for once.” Not waiting for permission, Aaron lifted me off my feet and sat me on Ezra so I was straddling his upper back. “Tuck your feet up. Full weight.”
Ezra muttered something unpleasant about Aaron. Eyes wide and voice having vanished the moment my body contacted Ezra’s, I didn’t know what to do except tuck my feet behind my butt, knees hanging off his sides.
“Perfect.” Aaron jumped back to his spot and dropped onto his hands and knees. “Ready?”
“But,” I stammered, finding my voice again, “what about breakfast?”
“If it means seeing him drop, I will gladly eat cereal. First set, starting now. Go!”
Ezra pulled his knees off the mats and straightened his body, and I grabbed his shoulders for balance. He inhaled as he lowered his torso, the muscles in his arms and back shifting and tightening. My hands clenched over his shoulders as he pushed up, exhaling sharply.
Oh man. This was a bad, bad, baaaaad idea.
He lowered again, his body flexing under my hands, under my thighs, under my—oh god. Heat radiated off him, soaking into my skin, and perspiration shone on the back of his neck, dampening his curls. He pushed up again, lifting me, and my head spun.
Bad, bad, bad. And so good.
My core shivered with building heat as he lifted and lowered beneath me, his breathing labored, faint sounds of effort escaping him. I bit hard on my lip, fighting my rising heart rate. If watching the guys spar had been titillating, that was nothing compared to this.
“Set,” Aaron announced breathlessly. “I can’t believe it. Ezra, you’re a machine.”
Bracing his elbows on the mats, Ezra grunted wordlessly, chest heaving as he sucked in air. I hadn’t been counting. How many pushups had that been? Was I allowed to get off him now? Because if this went on much longer, I would either spontaneously combust or humiliate myself.
“Next set,” Kai said. “Three, two, one, go.”
He and Aaron pushed up, and Ezra followed a second behind. His muscles bunched and flexed under me, and I bit my lip harder. My hands closed into fists around his shirt. His hot body between my legs. Sweating, panting, flexing. The wild thought that I wanted to be under him, not on top, flew through my feverish head.
His arms trembled with strain as he lowered us. For a moment, he hung there, then he pushed up with a quiet groan that pierced my center. No, Tori. He was groaning from the excruciating effort of lifting my weight. That was it. Focus.
“He’s done.” Aaron laughed as he dragged himself up again. “You’re losing this one, Ezra.”
Blowing out air and sucking it in, Ezra lowered again, muscles quivering, veins standing out on his tense biceps. Aaron and Kai stopped at the apex of their pushups and waited with triumphant grins despite their red faces and the sweat beading on their foreheads. I wanted to encourage Ezra, but I didn’t dare open my mouth for fear of what sounds might come out.
He pushed up again—and his arms buckled. We dropped and his chest hit the mat with a thud. I tumbled off him.
“Yes!” Aaron crowed. “Let’s do this, Kai.”
With renewed energy, they completed another six pushups, then flopped onto the mats, Aaron laughing victoriously. He reached over and slapped Ezra on the back as he wheezed.
“You’re insane, man. I didn’t expect you to finish the first set.”
“You … try it … next time,” Ezra panted.
Aaron snickered. “It’s good for you to lose once in a while.”
I sat up, hiding my accelerated breathing. That’d be tricky to explain, considering I’d done nothing—nothing except straddle a sexy, ripped mage while he flexed rhythmically under me.
Getting to my feet—shit, my knees were weak—I awkwardly straightened my shirt and glanced across the collapsed mages. “Um, now what?”
“We need to do our cool downs,” Aaron answered, eyes closed. “Take a turn in the shower. You’ve got ten minutes.”
Noddin
g, I hastened off the mats and into the bathroom, and locked the door behind me. Tearing my clothes off, I turned the shower on and jumped into the spray. I gasped as icy water hit me from all sides. Who needed this many shower jets? Talk about overkill.
As my body temperature dropped, I pressed both hands to my face and concentrated on breathing.
My reaction was totally normal, right? Most women would become aroused in that situation, even if the guy was a friend. It didn’t mean anything. Just sensory input triggering a hard-coded physiological response. That was it.
I nodded to myself. Yes. That was it.
After washing my hair with a masculine-smelling shampoo and scrubbing with a bar of soap, I shut off the water, grabbed a clean towel, and … crap. I stared at the shelves beside the shower, stacked with spare towels and the guys’ post-workout change of clothes.
My clean clothes were upstairs. Goddamn it!
As I dried off, I thought frantically. Couldn’t put my sweaty workout clothes back on, and I didn’t want to wear my PJ t-shirt again either. No way around it. I twisted my hair into a second towel and piled it on top of my head, then wrapped the big white towel around my torso and tucked in the corner.
I raised my chin. Confidence. I strode to the door and flung it open.
Ezra stood on the other side, hand raised to knock.
My stomach dissolved in a surge of molten heat. My mouth went dry, throat closing, toes curling. My gaze raced over his body then up to his face, his hair damp and tousled, cheeks flushed from exertion.
Our eyes met and his widened with surprise—then dropped. Sliding down. Taking me in.
Clutching my towel, I dove past him and sprinted toward my only escape. Aaron burst into laughter at the sight of my towel-clad self bolting up the stairs, but I didn’t stop until I was two floors away. I slammed Ezra’s bedroom door shut and pressed my back against it.
Way to panic, Tori.
Chapter Fourteen
I didn’t have to dwell on our overly eventful workout for long. When I returned to the main level, something far more pressing claimed my attention:
Fenton, the young Keys contractor, was standing outside on the front sidewalk.
For one horrible, disbelieving moment, I gawked witlessly through the living room window. Then I ran into the basement to inform the guys.
Since the Keys couldn’t get at Ezra in or around his guild, they had tracked him to his house—and judging by the black van parked behind Fenton, they planned to hang around for a while. This probably wasn’t what Darius had intended when he sent us home.
The three mages and I conferred on strategy. According to Aaron, the Keys wouldn’t enter the house because, as per MPD law, violence against mythic trespassers was perfectly acceptable. If they forced their way inside, he and Kai would be free to roast the Keys guys like pigs on a spit.
Short of that, our hands were tied, so we decided to stick with our original plan: wait them out. We’d ignore them and be as boring as possible. We’d stay in. Do nothing. Rot our brains watching TV and eating microwave dinners until the Keys lost interest. We closed all the blinds and did our best to forget they were out there.
Ha, yeah right. None of us could forget even for a minute.
We didn’t actually eat microwave dinners. Ezra held true to his pushups loss and toasted a box of frozen waffles for breakfast. After eating, I got to work on my menu proposal. So far, I’d selected which dishes to remove from the existing menu, but I was still struggling with ideas for new meals.
“Guys?” I squinted at my list. “Do fried mac ’n’ cheese balls sound good?”
Game controller in hand, Aaron didn’t look away from the TV, the split screen displaying two racetracks with careening cars. “Huh?”
“Fried mac ’n’ cheese balls. Does that sound appetizing?”
“Fried … mac and cheese … balls?”
Ezra dared to look away long enough to smirk at Aaron. “Don’t you know everything is better in ball form? Cheese, meat, donuts, snow … pasta.”
“Real comprehensive list there, Ezra.”
Sighing, I erased that one off the page. While I worked, Aaron and Ezra continued to race the afternoon away. Kai had disappeared upstairs to do who knew what. Maybe he just wanted some quiet; Aaron cursed almost nonstop while gaming.
Ezra played with his usual quiet humor, trouncing Aaron every time—though I now realized his victories had less to do with his skill and more to do with his fast reflexes—but I could see his tension. At every lull in the game, his gaze slid to the curtains covering the front window, his shoulders tensing and brow creasing.
I peeked outside a few times throughout the afternoon. The three Keys members were taking turns standing out front, changing shifts every hour. Their mission wasn’t merely surveillance; if it was, they would’ve stayed in their van. No, they were being deliberately obvious. It was a power play. It was a mind game. They were trying to freak Ezra out.
Unfortunately, it was working.
Their presence wore on him as the day went on. His options were painfully limited. If he fled, they’d chase him. If he confronted them, they’d fight him—which was probably what they wanted. His only option was to stay inside, hiding like a mouse in a burrow, the cat poised over the opening in anticipation.
Apparently, Aaron’s neighbors had also noticed our unwelcome company. A cop car showed up midafternoon, but the two officers left after a short talk with Burke. All the Keys had to do to get rid of the police was flash their MID numbers.
We ordered pizza for a late lunch, but Halil intercepted the delivery man, forcing Aaron and Kai to go outside and rescue our meal. The moment Aaron handed over some cash, the delivery man literally sprinted back to his car.
Tense and edgy, we settled in for a Netflix marathon. Thinking a food-related show might help me with menu ideas, the guys picked a cooking competition.
As the show’s host dramatically revealed the episode’s theme ingredient, I squinted at the spiky dark purple things on the screen. “What are those?”
“Sea urchins,” Kai answered.
“Are they poisonous?” Aaron muttered as the camera zoomed in on the round creatures covered in bristling spines. “They look poisonous.”
“You need to get out more—to actual restaurants instead of burger bars,” Kai said dryly. “Sea urchin is quite good. My favorite is uni donburi but it’s also delicious in—”
The living room window shattered.
I screamed as glass shards sprayed the floor and something heavy slammed into the hardwood. The guys leaped to their feet and whipped toward the window. Aaron flung the drapes open.
Burke stood on the sidewalk, smirking. As soon as Aaron appeared, he gave a mocking salute, climbed into his van, and slammed the door shut.
“What the hell?” Aaron snarled.
Glass covered the floor, with larger shards heaped beneath the sill. The drapes had caught most of the debris, keeping it from reaching the sofa. I sat frozen in my spot, heart pounding painfully against my ribs.
An object sat halfway under the coffee table. Stretching forward—without stepping onto the sparkling floor in my bare feet—I picked it up. A piece of folded paper, held in place by a rubber band, was wrapped around a heavy red brick.
“Guys,” I murmured.
Treading carefully, they returned to the sofa and gathered around me. None of them spoke. Since they seemed to be waiting, I pulled the elastic off, set the brick on the coffee table, and unfolded the paper.
The first thing I saw was Ezra’s face. Even in black and white, the bold scar cutting across his pale eye was unmistakable, but he appeared much younger. His cheeks were hollow, his eyes sunken, his hair short and scraggy. He looked like he was ill … or a drug addict.
The photo was a mug shot.
My eyes darted across the page, zipping from one block of info to the next. It was a police report. The date jumped out at me—eight years ago. Then words—breaking and enter
ing … theft under $5000 … resisting arrest. The suspect details were blank, with “unknown” written in place of a name and a note that the suspect had refused to provide any identification.
At the top of the report was the title Portland Bureau of Police, and someone had circled “Portland” in red—the only color on the black and white photocopy. Written above it in a masculine scrawl were two short lines:
60 miles from Enright, Oregon
4 months after extermination
Aaron yanked the paper from my hands. He scanned it rapidly, Kai squinting over his shoulder.
His hand clenched, crumpling the paper. “This proves nothing.”
“It doesn’t look good,” Kai muttered. “Ezra, you never mentioned …”
They looked at the aeromage. Ezra stood unmoving, his face blank, his jaw locked. His eyes were empty, shuttered, his emotions locked down so tight I wondered if he felt anything at all.
“Never mentioned getting arrested?” he said tonelessly. “It happened a few times.”
I could see a sliver of sixteen-year-old Ezra’s gaunt face on the paper, his stare in the photo as vacant as it was now.
“This proves nothing.” Aaron tightened his fist and flames erupted over the page, consuming it in seconds. Gray ash fluttered to the floor. “They can’t prove anything.”
“They don’t need to,” Kai said, a sharp, almost fearful edge creeping into his tone. “This is enough for them. If they’ve linked him to Enright, then they’re certain. They won’t give up. Waiting them out won’t work. They’re biding their time until they have a clear shot at him.”
Ezra’s blank mask cracked, and for a bare instant, despair flooded his eyes. He blinked it away. “Then I have no choice. I need to—”
Aaron and Kai whirled on him and shouted, “No!”
He recoiled, his mouth tightening.
“You’re not leaving,” Aaron snapped. “We’re not letting them drive you out.”
“We’ll handle it, Ezra,” Kai promised. “Don’t rush to jump ship. We’ll come up with something.”
With a burning glare, Ezra swept past them and into the front hall. The stairs creaked under his footsteps, then a bedroom door opened and closed. I stared after him. Not once had he looked at me—not once since I’d unfolded the police report.
Demon Magic and a Martini: The Guild Codex: Spellbound / Four Page 13