Demon Retribution (31 page)

“You should go after her, Cale.” Sonya
wanted to smack her brother across the face, but she stayed near
Ethan, feeling the undeniable urge to protect him. Not that he
needed it. He had been magnificent.

Cale replied robotically, “It would be
heartless for me to further any contact between us.”

“Well, you’ve got the heartless part
correct,” Ethan retorted. “Do you have any idea how many rugs just
got pulled out from under her?”

“Enlighten me, pirate,” Cale sneered.

“Don’t talk to him like that.” Sonya
surprised herself by snapping back. She stubbornly ignored Ethan’s
astonishment, amending, “Only I can do that.”

Cale laughed without humor. “Don’t you see?
It’s happening to you too. You of all people…with a pirate?”

Ethan turned quizzical. “Explain that.”

“Cale,” Sonya warned. It was her decision
whether to tell Ethan of her past or not. And now was not the time.
She tried to convey this with a look, but Cale wasn’t taking the
hint. He was in full destructive mode.

“Our father was murdered by—”

“Stop it!” she screamed.

“She was there when—”

Just as she was ready to reach for one of
the training swords, Sebastian snaked a fist around the back of
Cale’s neck and forced him from room. Cale put up no
resistance.

Marik lingered a moment longer. “Don’t
listen to him,” he encouraged. “If Ethan truly is yours—”

“He’s not…we’re not…” She was finding it
hard to deny. Her mind scrambled for reinforcement. She reminded
herself, for the hundredth time, that Ethan was a despicable
pirate, but that excuse was starting to lose weight. However,
Cale’s theory did provide a rational explanation, and therefore
must be considered. If wayward magic were involved, then that would
remit everything. She could brush aside her desire and get on with
her life.

Marik interrupted her thoughts. “Well,
whatever this is”—he motioned to Ethan—“don’t let your past
influence you.” His words held an edge more personal than he
probably wanted to admit. She still didn’t fully know what went on
between him and Nadua, but considering Marik’s history, it couldn’t
have been easy for either.

Yet they are
happy
.

Part of her knew he was
right. The horrors of her past, the stigma she’d applied to Ethan,
were no longer pragmatic. But aside from that, there was the fact
that Ethan didn’t
want
to be her mate.

She suspected the only reason Ethan was
enamored by her was because she continued to despise him so
thoroughly. He enjoyed the challenge. That was all.

After Marik left them alone, she warily
faced Ethan, expecting him to demand she expand on Cale’s garish
comment.

Instead, he gave her an impish grin. “You
rushed to my defense.”

“It’s not what you think. I just didn’t want
to have to find a new employee for my pub while your guts were
being scraped off the walls.”

“Ah, of course. That makes more sense.” He
moved closer, placing his hands on her hips as if it were the most
natural thing to do.

Then she did something she never in a
million years thought she would do. She rested her forehead against
his shoulder. It was an involuntary move that felt far too
gratifying.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she
muttered, knowing he would catch her meaning.

“I didn’t ask.”

“You want to, though.”

“Yes.”

She quickly changed the subject. “Do you
think Cale is right? About…” She couldn’t finish.

“It’s something I’ve considered.”

“You have?”

“Yes, ever since I figured out you wanted to
sink your teeth into me, and not just to tear out my throat.”

She pulled back, seeing a teasing glint in
his eyes. Damn sexy, irritating male. “That is never going to
happen. I’d slit you from navel to nose before that happens.”

“I’ve also figured out, the more you
threaten my life, the more you want me.”

“You’re delusional. And possibly
masochistic.”

“You may be right about that. It’s a good
thing I heal fairly quickly.”

She laughed despite herself. “How is it
you’re so fast? I’ve never seen anyone dodge like that.”

His grin widened. “Another facet of my gift.
A family trait, actually.” He paused as if deciding to continue or
not. “I’m able to read intent.”

She thought about that for a moment. “You
cheat?”

“Utilize my advantages,” he corrected. His
arm slipped to the small of her back.

“Tell me then, what are my intentions at the
moment?”

“You intend not to let me kiss you right
now, no matter how hard I try.”

She smirked, but did not refute.

“And I intend to do a lot more than just
kiss you.”

Her eyes widened just as his grew dark with
desire. Once she regained her composure, she tensed for battle.
“Game on then.”

“Are you completely daft?” Sebastian dug his
fingers deep into Cale’s neck, leading him down the hall.

Cale hardly felt it. His own conclusion had
been like a kick to the gut. It all made sense now. Kyra, whether
she realized it or not, was weaving a steel web through every
corner of his brain, directing him to only think of her. To only
want her. He couldn’t even notice other women now. They did not
exist.

Jade had tried to entice him, and he had
barely even registered the attempt.

From the moment he laid eyes on Kyra’s
beguiling features, smelled her enthralling scent, the beginnings
of a cage forged, intending to close its door on him. And if not
him, the next poor fool to cross her path.

A territorial growl rumbled through him.

And yet, even with the foresight of his
impending capture, he wanted to fall headlong into her trap. How
could he already be so lost?

Sebastian launched him into a small meeting
room, closing the door behind. There was a table and some chairs,
not too much to break. Cale turned, ready to take out his
frustration on his brother, knowing Sebastian would understand and
let him rage as he needed to.

He swung his fist out, but Sebastian grabbed
it midair, wrenching his arm behind him, and slammed his face
against the wall. “I’m not fighting you now.”

“Dammit, Bastian! I need this.”

“What you need is to listen to me.”
Sebastian’s tone gave pause. He’d never used his
I’m-this-close-to-killing-you voice on Cale. “If you ever again
question the validity of my mate bond with Anya, you will no longer
be welcome on this ship. I will toss you out into space with my own
hands.”

“I’m not saying your matehood isn’t
sanctioned. What I’m saying is I’m already a mated male, and I’m
feeling the drive to make Kyra mine. It’s impossible!” Spikes of
pain pierced his chest. His heart wanted to collapse in
devastation.

It. Was. Impossible.

“I don’t give a fuck how you’re feeling.
Deal with it and stop being a dolt. We are about to fly headlong
into a Kayadon fuck-fest and all I care about is that my mate, my
family, and my friends survive the onslaught. In that order! And
for that plan to succeed, we need your girl to survive as well. So
if you’re feeling the drive to make her yours, then, suffice it to
say, you’re feeling the drive to protect her with your life.
Correct?”

Cale’s silence answered for him.

“Then all the better—”

“You want me to ignore the fact that I want
to claim her?”

“No. I want you to embrace it, use it, at
least until we’ve finished mangling our enemies.”

“What would Anya say if she heard you
now?”

Sebastian didn’t hesitate. “She’d say I was
being callous, but you know better.”

Cale did. Sebastian saw opportunity in the
situation. If Cale’s body recognized Kyra as his, then it would be
easier for him to tap the supreme strength of the Edge when it
became necessary. The mere thought of her in danger already had his
muscles coiling.

Movement to the right caught their
attention. The curious witchling perched on the edge of the
table.

“How did you get in here?” Sebastian
barked.

She pointed to herself. “Witch.”

Sebastian released Cale from the wall. “And
why are you here?”

“I was intrigued by what Cale suggested. Why
is it you think magic is involved?”

With unrestrained annoyance, Cale recited
his mated status. In a calmer manner, Sebastian explained demon
mating. Portia listened with a bland expression.

“Hmm,” she muttered when Sebastian finished.
“Finally, something for me to look into.”

“What do you mean? Can you fix it?” Cale
asked, hopeful. Sebastian’s lips thinned.

“I doubt it, but it will be interesting to
research.” With that she popped out of the room, vanishing as if
she had never been.

Kyra spent the rest of the day in seclusion,
contemplating her reaction to Cale’s words. Could there be some
invisible force drawing them together? Were her feelings for him
unsound?

For a time, the idea suffocated the breath
out of her. The way Cale had spoken, one would think she was some
sort of succubus.

Now she sat on the couch, her father’s book
weighing down her lap while her eyes roamed the nonsensical
symbols.

From nowhere, Portia appeared directly at
her front, making her jump.

“Holy cow! Did you just teleport?”

“Astral dimensional navigation,” the
witchling explained.

Kyra cocked her head in blatant
confusion.

“It’s totally different.”

“Whatever.” Kyra focused on the book again,
too weary to care if Portia was joking. “Did you need
something?”

Portia took a seat next to her, her
expression coy. “Nothing, really. Just wanted to chat. What do you
think of Cale’s comment earlier?”

Kyra let out a tired breath. “I don’t know,”
she finally replied, grateful to have someone to confide in. “It
doesn’t feel like I…Are you sniffing me?”

“Hmm?” Portia leaned back innocently.

Kyra placed the heavy book on the table, and
then rose awkwardly off the couch. “Seriously, what is with the
sniffing?”

“I was just checking. Most magic has a
unique bouquet. If you’re using, I should be able to scent some
kind of residue. Like your book there.” She pointed. “It reeks.”
Then she muttered absently, “Familiar though. I think I know the
person who spelled it.”

Of course! Magic sometimes left a trace. At
least if Cale was right, Portia might be able to confirm it. Then
she could deal accordingly.

“And?” Kyra prompted when Portia went
silent.

“And I think she owes me some money.”

“Portia!”

“Huh? Oh, I don’t sense anything that
screams lust spell or anything like that.”

“What about love?”

Portia scoffed. “There are no love spells,
only lust, infatuation, obsession. All emotions can be manufactured
for a time, with the exception of love. It’s theorized that love is
not an emotion, but a state of being. So, are you in love?”

Kyra clamped her mouth shut and then open it
a second later, “No! Absolutely not. No.”

“You said no twice—technically thrice.
That’s two too many.”

“I’m not in love,” she insisted again.

Portia eyed her suspiciously. Just when Kyra
was about to stupidly continue the train of denial, the door to the
room slid open.

“Hey guys.” Zoey stepped inside, wearing the
same clothes from the day before. “What’s up?”

Kyra exhaled with relief. “Zo, are you
okay?”

“’
Course.” She wiggled her
eyebrows suggestively. “Better than okay. What are you guys doing?”
she asked, claiming a spot on the couch.

“Smelling Kyra,” Portia blurted, “but she’s
clean.”

Portia remained perfectly serious, but the
dumfounded expression on Zoey’s face nearly made Kyra double over
with laughter. Then her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten
today.

“You hungry, Zo?”

Zoey nodded. “Famished. I just need to
change clothes.”

While Zoey dug through their clothing stash,
Kyra entered the bathroom to splash a bit of water on her face and
readjust her ponytail, trying and failing not to think of Cale.

He had been so cold, sounding as if he
thought she betrayed him. But had she? Had merely wanting him been
a catalyst? Had she somehow entranced him without realizing? Portia
said she was clean of that sort of magic, but not all magic left a
trace. There were a few exceptions. Could she trust Portia’s
senses?

She studied her reflection as if seeing
herself anew. The person looking back at her had light smudges
under her eyes, a completely lost expression on her face. Even her
strawberry blond hair looked dull.

Was it just magic, or had she truly fallen
for Cale? Is that why the girl in the mirror looked utterly
defeated now that she was sure he would never return her
feelings?