by A. Vers
Ruin
I LEAVE LILAH AT THE Keep with Raina and Markus. Her damn haunted expression as I broke the bed seems to be on a vicious loop in my mind. But more than that was the tension still between us, the curiosity. I want to know if she can take all of me, and she does too.
Gage and T remain quiet in the SUV’s dim interior. Caine and Horan seemed only too willing to take the demon’s ostentatious convertible instead of riding with us. Or more accurately ... me.
Sitting around the manor all day was going to leave half the team black and blue. So it was a happy fucking moment when I got the call that Lock Lake PD found an abandoned house not far from Carnage. One with what looked like a Brightex kitchen waiting to go.
Work.
Now that is something I can do.
Hands clenched tight around the steering wheel, I put Lilah far from my mind. “What do we know?”
“State was able to get in touch with Interpol, but it’s going to be a few hours before everything they have gets to us,” T says, leaning between the seats, file folder in hand. “Meantime, the property is registered to a David James.”
“Two first names?” Gage asks, peering back at him. “Sounds like an alias.”
T nods out of my peripheral. “Yep. That’s what I thought. So I had the DMV pull up every traffic cam in the area. And we got a partial plate on an older model Camaro pulling from the garage.” He passes up a picture to Gage.
I glance over to find a grainy image of what appears to be a ‘72 model, with supped hood and dual exhaust in powder blue. Gage hands the photo over, and I press it to the wheel as I drive. “Any ID yet?”
T exhales. “That’s where it gets ballsy, my friend. Apparently the car was stolen about two months ago from a Malcolm James Oglethorpe. Tag is registered to a David Holmes. He reported his tag had disappeared at a car show around the same time. And get this, his car was the ice blue one. Not the one stolen.”
I look at him in the mirror. “Are you telling me this asshole stole a car ... and stole a tag for the same model, only to paint the car he jacked to match the one for the tag?”
T nods. “Yep.”
Gage whistles. “That’s some fucking dedication, yo.”
“Or he’s smart enough to hack the mainframe,” T tells him. “Every car registered in Lock Lake is in their database. It would be too easy to double check for a Camaro the same year model and boost what he needed. If he knew how.”
“Can you do that kind of shit?” I ask.
T shrugs, but his grin is coy. “Yeah. But that shit is illegal. Besides, Monica is only too happy to look up whatever I need.”
His informant at the DMV would stand on the street corner nude and scream she loved T if the woman thought it would help get her back in his bed. But the thing with T, once he has them, he doesn’t want them anymore.
On the other hand, I don’t think I will ever get enough of Lilah.
Damn it.
“This fucker could be our main dealer,” Gage mutters, drawing me from my thoughts as he shuffles through the file. “We need to case the house and see–”
T’s phone shrills some rap song, and he tugs it loose from his tight-ass jeans. His brows knit in the mirror as he listens to the woman on the other end. The confusion fades to a smile. And it is not remotely sane. “Really?” he asks.
“Yes– If you– Just don’t tell them I said–” The voice fades in and out despite my heightened hearing.
“Aww, Rosita. You know better. I would never say a word about us.” His eyes roll. “Yeah. Thanks for the tip. Yeah. Sure, I’ll call you later.” He hangs up and leans on my seat.
“How much do you love me?” he croons.
I peer at him and then glance back at the road. “What do you got?”
His smile is all teeth in the rearview mirror. “Take the next left.”
CUTBERTO’S AUTO & BODY is dark but for one open bay. Bright yellow lights flood the cracked pad, and the gravel driveway has deep ruts as we walk closer to the building. Loud reggaeton blares outward, and a truly off-key voice sings along. Gage raises a brow at me as we near the open door.
“Cutberto?” I call, gun tight to my leg. The voice falls silent. “Cutberto? I need to ask you a few questions.”
Something clatters inside, and I barrel around the frame as a dark clothed blur dives out a back window.
“Fuck.” I take off at a dead run for that narrow opening.
A Latin-American male with a torque wrench leans partially out from under the now familiar sky blue Camaro as I pass.
“Hey!” he yells.
I ignore him and fling myself between the narrow sills.
Rolling over bits of gravel and discarded auto parts, I come up to my feet in a narrow expanse of shadowed grass.
My head whips around as my eyes bleed to gold. There is little light beyond that, but the distant fleeing shape of a man is all I need for a direction.
I flit.
My body rams into him from behind and we fall to the ground. He twists beneath me. His lean frame is more bone than muscle as he tries to wiggle free from my hold. My elbow slams into his side with a precision clip meant to incapacitate.
He moans. “Fucking prick!”
I press my arm into his throat and lean. He chokes.
The light from my eyes highlights a sunken face. Narrow cheekbones, dark circles ... Fear. His hair is clean to a point of desperation, the color haphazardly dyed to black. But bits of red still peeks through.
“David James?” I ask.
He gurgles.
I relent enough for him to breathe.
That first gasp leaves him hacking beneath me. “Fuck–let me go. Please, let ... me ... go.”
“Can’t do that,” I tell him honestly. “Your car was seen leaving a known Brightex distribution center. I need your supplier.”
His brown eyes widen. “If he knows I told, he’ll kill me. You got to let me go.”
I lean a little bit farther in, careful to not impede his breathing ... too much. “Who? Who do you work for?”
He licks his lips. “Vlad Dracul.”
36
Ruin
I SHOVE MR. DAVID JAMES into the back of the SUV in cuffs and lock the doors. He launches himself at the closed panel anyway, his eyes wild behind the tinted glass.
T and Gage remain inside the auto shop, arguing with Cutberto himself about taking the Camaro to impound. Apparently the mechanic has no qualms about doing the work on a stolen car, but he still wants to be paid for it.
My phone rings in the annoying beat of Mr. James’ insanity. I pull it from my pocket.
“Yeah?” I snap.
“The house has been cleared, Cap.” Horan damn near hacks in my ear, and something crashes in the background. “Place was wiped completely, but the fine edge of sage and flame in the air means our Vlad has a magick user on staff–”
A low hum fills my ears, digging into my skull like an ice pick. James slams against the window again, completely blocking out Horan’s words. I walk farther from the SUV, careful to keep that back door in view.
The noise persists, making my vision blur. “Say that again?”
“Magick user.” Horan coughs slightly, and Caine echoes him in the background. “The place is torched, Cap. There is nothing left, and even the demon can’t get past the flames.”
I swear. “We got anything to go on?”
“A few old booklets for–”
The humming in my ears reaches deafening. Groaning, I clamp my hands to my ears, eyes fluttering as it slices and tears at my skull.
An explosive blast rips through the dark, sending me back on my ass in one of the gravel ruts. My cell flies out as my head slams into the jagged rocks with force. Sage fills the air in a grey plume of smoke, and I peer through the disorientating haze at an SUV completely engulfed in midnight-purple flames.
I scramble to my feet, diving for the back door and our lead just inside.
Another shock wave slides me back. The car
smolders and contorts as I watch, unable to get closer. But there is no movement now. Nothing but the fire’s dance.
My ears ring softly. Movement darts out of the corner of my eye, and my gun raises.
T tears around the inferno, hands up as his eyes damn near glow with his beast. “Cap?” His lips move but no sound reaches me.
“Ruin? Gods-damn it!” Gage echoes him as the noise returns in a burst.
Sirens wail in the distance, and the crackle and hiss of the SUV says my only lead is now toasted and fried.
Gage and T speed to a stop beside me, arms shielding their faces from the heat. Gage’s emerald eyes are livid, back lit in a flame that could rival even the one behind him. His hands clasp my arms, pushing me back, farther away from the blast zone.
Tanner scoops up my phone. “Magick blast.” He listens for a moment. “Yeah. He’s fine ... Ish.”
I shake my head and push from Gage’s hold to grab at the damn phone. “I need good news right now, Horan. Tell me you got good news.”
“There were a few charred booklets for that shifter ballet across town in the garage. But that’s all that is left.”
My teeth grind. Of all the damn leads we could get, dance interpretation was not high on my list. “And I doubt our now dead lead was a fan of the fine arts.”
Gage clamps a hand over my arm, holding pressure. And I glance down to find my blood trailing over my dirty skin in rivulets. The gash it pours from is damn near wide enough for me to lay my finger in.
How the fuck am I going to hide this from Lilah?
I growl, low and long. “Get on the horn and see what kind of ETA Lock Lake has on Interpol’s fucking photos,” I say, pacing slightly at the edge of the gravel lot as Gage continues mothering me. “As soon as they have something, take them down to the theater. If any of the ushers or staff have seen this cat on a regular basis, he may make a return trip.”
Tanner looks up at that, his eyes silver in the low light. “You thinking stake-out, Cap?”
My fangs drop as I smile. “Now, T. You know subtlety has never been my strong suit.”
37
Lilah
“DO WHAT?” MY VOICE echoes in the coven house.
Raina holds out her hands. “They are all fine.” Her voice is gentle. “A little smoke inhalation, Caine has a broken arm, and Ruin got a small cut, but– Lilah? Where are you going?”
I stalk up the damn steps and to the thick ass doors. The ones so much easier to open at night. She trails me as I head down the stairs to the front foyer. And the exit.
“Lilah? You can’t go after them.” I just growl. “They’re coming back here to patch up, re-arm, and head back out!” she calls.
I stop walking. “He’s coming back here?”
Her bright blonde hair appears out of my peripheral. “Yes, honey. Gage wants to check Caine’s arm for himself. Coven house is the safest place for them to do that.”
My head rolls on my shoulders as I try to ease the tension still in my body.
Hurt. He was fucking hurt trying to find this creep. This Vlad.
I let my eyes go heavenward as I sigh. “Fine. Then I’ll wait right here until he comes in.”
Raina’s shoulders shake before she schools her expression. “Wouldn’t you want to wait somewhere more private?” Her blue eyes flash, and I remember what she said earlier.
Heat fills my body in droves, rolling and gliding through me from the tips of my toes to every strand of hair on my head. I shiver. “Good point.”
“Um ... Excuse me? Is this the Eternity Refuge?”
My head whips over.
The voice is rolling, smooth, distinctly southern, and attached to one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen. Hell, his body is ultra-lean, but with wide shoulders and an almost willowy grace, like a dancer under an old mahogany sweater and ripped jeans. How he can stand either in the heat, I don’t know.
His chestnut hair is swept back from a square-jawed face, but there the masculinity ends. High cheekbones and long lashes add to an almost feminine beauty, something doubled by his pouting lips and sinful bedroom eyes. Eyes that glow a soft honey yellow across the room as he watches me.
I shift in place.
Raina sighs next to me. “Yes, yes it is ... Mr.?”
“David. David Rayne.” He smiles at her, flashing perfect white teeth, but his gaze remains locked on mine. “I would seek asylum, if you have any availability?” His posture and accent brings to mind a southern gentleman.
Man probably knows how to ride a horse into the sunset for a romance novel too.
My head shakes. As handsome as he is, I’d rather have bad-boy meets saving grace any day.
Raina turns to me with a pointed glance to the stairs. “Unless you want to check him in and I go wait for the guys ...”
Face scorching, I lean over, kiss her cheek, and turn to the newcomer. “Welcome to Eternity, Mr. Rayne.”
He smiles and those honey irises glitter. “And it is wondrous to be here.”
Something about his words, or maybe that smile leaves me walking backward. Faster than normal.
I head up the stairs.
When I look back, the guy and Raina are standing near the front desk, and some of my odd trepidation fades.
He seems perfectly ordinary from the back. Normal.
“He’s just friendly, Lilah. Knock it off,” I mutter to myself and slip down the hall to my room and the bag of clothes waiting.
IT TAKES EVERYTHING I have not to move from my spot as the door cracks open.
Ruin slips past the frame, his eyes down as he peruses the manila folder in his hands. Something pungent mixes with his natural spice, and dirt smears over his arms and hands in the light from the candles.
But the huge gash on one bicep makes my stomach rebel and I can stay still no longer. I dart over.
He startles at seeing me, and a low rumble pours from my lips as I examine the wound. “Lilah? Fucking hell. What are you wearing, baby girl?”
I ignore him. My hands close around the rock-hard swell of muscle, and I pull him towards the bathroom. Pushing him inside, I force him to lean against the counter. He stares at me; gold light moves through his eyes as I grab an older first aid kit from under the sink. Thankfully it’s a full field kit, complete with sutures.
“Baby girl... That’s not necessary.”
I just look at him and he falls silent, though his lips twitch before he can completely stifle it.
But he’s right. The wound no longer bleeds at all, and though it heals slowly, it is healing.
He needs to feed. And one way or another, it’s going to be from me.
“Fine.” I force him in the shower to get all the dirt and grime off of him. He doesn’t make a sound as I help wash him, uncaring as the water saturates the lace and silk covering me.
He watches me from heavy-lidded eyes as I rub the bar of soap carefully over the wound, his massive arms, and the swell of his chest. “I like that color on you,” he says, voice low, deep.
My nipples peak under the wet material, and I know he can see it. The navy blue lingerie is little more than an old sleeping gown that I cut higher with Raina’s shears, but his expression makes the effort worth it. I blush.
“Hush and let me clean you.”
He goes quiet again, and I work a lather in my hands before washing the hard muscle of his back and those oak-tree thighs of his. When I turn him back around to rinse off, his length rests solidly against his stomach, the tip beading under the hot water.
My mouth goes dry, and then pools with the need to taste him.
His eyes are vast as I look up, bottomless. I wrap my hand around him and stroke.
He hisses. “Fuck, baby girl.”
It’s the only permission I need.
I shut the water off and tug him out of the shower. His body glistens in the lights on the wall, and I drop to my knees on the plush rug.
My mouth closes over the cherry-red tip and he groans above me. He
tastes like he smells. Spicy heat in a rock-hard package. Long fingers roam through my hair, diving deep into the strands to gently press me farther down. I swallow him back, one rigid inch at a time.
When I can take no more, he holds me there, forcing me to learn to breathe with him so far down. I try to ease back. He continues holding me in place, hips arched. My heart slams in my ears.
He chuckles and lets up. “I like a little fear, baby girl. I won’t hurt you, so trust me to know when you’ve had enough. “
My eyes roll from the ridges on his stomach to the chiseled lines of his jaw before locking deep into those brilliant gold eyes. I lick the underside of him like an ice cream, and he trembles.
“And I like you above me.”
His eyes turn molten. “Baby girl, anytime you want me like this, I am only too happy to oblige. That fucking little mouth of yours was made to be wrapped around me.”
That rumbling sound pours from me again, but it is lower now. Less angry and a lot more needy.
I dive back over his body, using my hand to help work his impressive length. He stumbles a bit and catches himself on the counter as his hips buck to meet every downward stroke of my ferocity. My hunger.
He pants above me, thighs flexing and his body bowing in half, as I swirl my hand around the heated marble of his body to suckle him. My tongue caresses him in teasing passes. His hands find their way into my hair, and he hauls me up. “Holy fuck.”
His eyes are wild, spinning from blacker than night to gold and back. All that tenuous control is absent. One hand balls in my gown and he rips it down the middle. Steamy air touches my flushed skin. His fingers flow down my body to my apex.
He slips two digits into my weeping heat, and I almost purr. “Yes, Ruin.”
The sound that leaves him is not human. Somewhere between a growl and a roar, it flows through me in a wave of need. He hefts me onto the bathroom counter with a quick sweep of his arm to clear the space. The first aid kit flies against the far wall.
He lifts my legs, spreads me wide, and slams into my center with one push.