Motor City Mage (5 page)

She straddled his lap, her dress riding up high enough that his hand easily found the top of one of her thigh-high stockings. He groaned as he traced the lace band at the top.
No garters.

She tried started to unbutton his shirt, but he heard her swear as her claws emerged and she tore one of the buttonholes.

“Shred it. I don’t care,” he muttered as he bent to kiss her neck and her ear. His hands wandered up under her dress farther to find a scrap of a thong, and his cock pulsed as all the blood drained from his head. “Oh hell, Lana. All day, all you had on under that dress was this?”

“Uh-huh.” She wiggled her hips in his lap, grinding her hot, damp core down against the bulge in his slacks.

Without warning, Des stood, causing Lana to shriek and hold onto his shoulders.

“This time, we’re using a bed,” he said, striding toward the hallway. He wasn’t in the mood for another quickie on the couch. “Which door?”

“End of the hall.” She buried her face in his neck and nibbled as he stalked toward paradise. He could barely believe this was about to happen again.

“Did you wear those stockings just for me?” His voice was thick as he wondered what color the thong was. Last night was supposed to have gotten her out of his system, but if anything, his desire for her had only increased after that one fast coupling on the couch.

“I hoped so,” she admitted softly.

Des carried her into her bedroom and laid her down on the bed, ignoring the crumpled sheets and messy room. Des had already guessed she wasn’t as tidy as he was. It didn’t matter.

“Tell me you have condoms,” he murmured as he peeled off the torn shirt. She pulled her knit dress over her head, leaving her in a lacy red bra and thong, along with the thigh-highs. His dick pulsed at the vision she made.

“I do, but I told you, it’s taken care of. I’m a responsible adult, Des.”

He paused, wanting to trust her and wanting to be safe. His erection tented his boxers until he stripped those off as well. Her breathing quickened as he stepped to the bed and crawled up over her. To his own surprise, trust won.

“All right,
chán-láng,
you win.” He used the Chinese endearment without thinking. Sometime last night the name had popped into his head and he’d been subconsciously using it all day. “I’m clean, though I know you’re immune to most diseases. But I haven’t been with anyone in almost a year.” He played with her thong, before rolling it down her legs, leaving her slick flesh bare to his gaze. Briefly, he wondered if she waxed or shaved.

“It’s been closer to two for me, believe it or not.”

He was a little surprised and a lot pleased but didn’t say anything. He was too busy playing with her nipples through the red lace.

She shuddered. “Between work and school and the band—there just hasn’t been time.”

He felt a broad grin spread across his face. “Then we’ll have to make up for lost time, won’t we?”

A little after noon the next day, Lana looked across her kitchen table and felt her world spinning out of control around her. She couldn’t believe he’d not only spent the night, but was now freshly showered and sharing a brunch of scrambled eggs, bagels and strawberries—pretty much everything she’d had in her refrigerator.

She’d thought Wednesday night had been about scratching an itch, but last night, she’d only wanted him more. Having him open up about his past ramped up her urges even further. There was nothing sexier than a big, bad alpha showing his vulnerable side. When he’d carried her to bed, they’d taken it slow and it had been so intense she’d practically blacked out when she came. This morning’s lovemaking had been sweeter and more playful, with a misty, dreamlike quality to it. Far from getting him out of her system, she now craved his touch with a need that was more emotional than physical—and that scared the living hell out of her. It was fine that her friends and cousins were all settling down, but Lana didn’t think she was ready for that yet, although at thirty-two, her biological clock was beginning to tick. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she’d figured on spending a year to get established in her new career, and then maybe she’d work on finding a mate. Only after that would she even think about starting a family.

Des had the potential to derail all her carefully constructed plans. The good news was that she didn’t think he wanted to be tied down any more than she did.

“You awake over there?” He helped himself to the last half bagel and smeared it with cream cheese. “Looked like you were zoning out again.”

She wanted to ask him what was going on, but wasn’t sure she wanted to hear his answers. Instead she shrugged. “Trying to make sure there’s nothing I need to get done today, but other than check through inventory sometime this weekend, I’m completely free. You want me to make a couple calls now, or wait until I’m on campus Monday?”

He paused for some time, chewing and then sipping his coffee. Finally he shrugged. “If you made the calls today, I could back you up more easily.”

“Okay. I’ve got a sometimes-lab-partner whose boyfriend deals a little to support his own habit. She doesn’t know me well enough to be certain I’m not into experimentation, especially if I’ve got a new guy in town. Can you thicken up the Canadian accent?”

“You betcha,” he said. “Eh.”

Lana winced at the blatant parody. “Fine. I’ll make the call as soon as I clean up in here.” There was no food left on the table, so she couldn’t pretend they were still eating.

“You cooked, so I’ll clean up.” Des stood and started to clear the table. “Go ahead and make your call.”

“Fine.” Lana moved into her living room and opened her laptop. She had Sheila’s number in there somewhere. Once she found it, she dialed and concentrated on keeping her breathing relaxed and muscles loose. The last thing she wanted was to sound nervous.

“Hey, Sheila,” she said into the phone when her classmate answered. “I’ve got a weird question for you.”

“Oh?” Sheila yawned. “I thought you were done with class work.”

“I am. It’s just—my old boyfriend’s down from Canada for the weekend, and he’s looking to party. I haven’t been into much lately, but I remembered you saying you could hook me up if I needed anything…exotic.”

“Sure. Jerry’s here. You want to talk to him? What kind of exotic are you looking for?”

“Well, maybe some E, if you have it.” Lana knew ecstasy was Sheila’s personal favorite party drug. “Or I’ve heard about this new stuff—demon dust? Have you ever tried that? One of the waitresses at the bar where I work says it’s awesome.”

“It rocks,” Sheila admitted. “Let me ask Jerry about it.”

After a moment of silence, she returned to the line. “I’ll meet you at the coffee shop by campus at two-thirty. That work for you? It isn’t cheap. A hundred bucks a hit.”

Lana moved the phone away from her face and called, “Hon, do you have two hundred dollars?”

Des played his part, speaking loudly enough to be picked up by the phone. “Not a problem, sweetheart. Anything for you, eh?”

“No problem,” Lana said back into the phone. “We’ll be there.”

“No—just you and me,” Sheila said. “It’ll look more natural, two girlfriends meeting for coffee. We can swap notes.”

“Okay, sure.” Lana knew Des wasn’t going to like it, but that was his problem.

* * *

No way in hell was he letting her go into the buy on her own. Des had a working relationship with the Detroit cops—the League’s cover was a private investigations company, and Des was a licensed P. I. as well as a mage. If he got caught buying drugs, he could talk his way out of it. Lana didn’t have that security net. Des entered the coffee shop alone, with his laptop, about fifteen minutes before the designated meeting time, and settled into a corner booth with a cup of coffee.

When Lana walked past him, he glanced up—a normal male reaction to a pretty girl. Then he looked back at his screen, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She sat down with another young woman, a bleached-blonde maybe five years younger, too thin and dressed in all black. They chatted briefly before Lana handed over a spiral notebook, which the other woman flipped through. She smiled brightly as she handed Lana a three-ring binder, the kind that zipped all the way around. “Thanks for the notes.”

They finished their drinks and stood, hugging before they left via separate exits.

Des took his time putting away his computer and following Lana outside. Several blocks away, she pulled her car over to the curb and waited for him. He climbed in, picking up the binder from the passenger seat before he sat.

“There’s an envelope in the back,” Lana said. “There’s your sample.”

“Thanks.” He flipped through and found it. “I’ll take this in to the lab this afternoon.”

“Figured.” She drove into the parking structure and pulled into the slot alongside his car. “I guess I’ll see you around then. I’d appreciate you letting me know what you find out.”

He looked at her as she turned off the car and fiddled with her keys. What was he supposed to say now? He wasn’t really that experienced with relationships, and to tell the truth, he didn’t know if what was going on with Lana qualified. He just knew if he fucked it up and hurt her, her cousins and his sister were liable to kill him and hide the body—if she didn’t do it herself. “I’ll call you tonight.”

She inhaled a deep breath. “Or you could come over.”

“If I can.” He might have some leads to run down if the lab was quick. “One way or another, I’ll call.” That much was a reasonable promise.

“Okay.” She gave him a crisp nod. They both got out of the car, and Lana started to brush past him as he put the notebook in his own car.

Des snagged her arm. “One more thing?”

She tipped her head up at him. “What?”

He grinned. “This.” Then he kissed her until his senses were reeling.

When they stopped, Lana stepped back, breathing heavily. “Well then.” She blinked. “I guess I’ll talk to you later.”

“Promise.” With that, he got in his car and headed off to work.

* * *

Lana was down in the subbasement of the club, counting jars of olives and maraschino cherries when Mickey, their main bartender, yelled down the stairs that she had a phone call.

“I’ll take it in the office.” She made her way up the stairs to the small office she shared with her cousins as co-owners of the bar.

“Oh my God, Lana, you’ve got to help us,” the voice on the other end sobbed.

“Sheila? What’s wrong?”

“Jerry’s boss. He thinks you gave the demon dust to the cops. He came and took Jerry…and I don’t think…Lana, he didn’t look
human.
”

Lana gulped in a breath and tried to calm the other woman. “Okay, settle down. Are you at home? Are you hurt?”

“N-no. I mean yes.” Sheila sniffled then swallowed. “I’m okay, and I’m home. I was so scared, I hid.”

“I’ll call for help, and we’ll be there as soon as we can. What’s your address?”

Sheila rattled it off while Lana wrote it down. “I’m on my way, and calling for help. Don’t move, and if you hear any voice but mine, hide again. Call my cell if you need me.”

“O-okay.”

Lana hung up the bar’s phone, went to the wall safe and removed the matte-black nine-millimeter pistol they kept there. She snapped the holster onto the belt of her jeans and threw her leather coat over it. Finally, she reached for her cell and pulled up Des’s number, holding her breath until he picked up.

“We’ve got trouble. Meet me at this address,” she said. “The demons came and picked up Sheila’s boyfriend.”

“Wait for me.” His tone didn’t leave a lot of room for argument.
Total alpha.

Too bad Lana didn’t take orders well. “No. Sheila needs someone there right away, so unless you’re already in the city, I’m heading over now.” As she walked to her car, she filled him in on what the other woman had said.

“I’ll only be twenty minutes or so behind you.” Des accepted that she wasn’t going to wait. “Try not to get into too much trouble before I get there. Did you call your cousins?”

“No. They have their own lives. If we decide we need more backup, we can call them then.”

“Fair enough.”

Lana pressed End and climbed into her car. Ten minutes later she parked in a marginally legal spot on the street behind Sheila’s student apartment building. Watching and listening carefully for any trouble, she made her way up to number 203. Sheila’s weeping was quiet, but Lana’s lupine hearing picked it up easily through the wall.

She tapped on the door. “Sheila, it’s me, Lana. Let me in.”

Footsteps sounded and then the locks rattled. Finally, Sheila cracked open the door, looked both ways and stepped back so Lana could come in.

The tiny apartment was a shambles. Furniture had been overturned, a shelf tipped over, and books scattered across the floor. Two potted plants had been dumped, their soil and leaves littered across the beige industrial carpet. A framed rock band poster hung crooked on the wall, its glass broken.

Lana kicked the door shut behind her. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?”

Sheila shook her head. She wore a pair of soft yoga pants and a sweatshirt, but no shoes. Lana bet she hadn’t even noticed the shards of pottery and glass on the floor, but resisted the urge to pick the other woman up and carry her out of the room. Instead, she took Sheila by the arm and carefully steered her into the kitchenette, which had fared a little better, and pushed her gently into a chair. “Now tell me what happened?”

“I happened.” A tall, muscular African-American man with a shaved head and goatee stepped out of the single bedroom. “These two are going to disappear now. You’re the one I wanted to talk to.”

Lana’s hand automatically reached for the gun at her waist. She knew how to use it. Her cousins had taught her back when they’d been a band touring dive bars in California. “Who the hell are you?”

He took a step closer and Lana could see Jerry, Sheila’s boyfriend, lurking behind him.

“I’m sorry, Lana.” Sheila ran to Jerry and the two ducked back into the bedroom.

Lana sniffed, picking up a sulfurous trace from the newcomer. She narrowed her eyes. “Demon.”

He tipped his head. “You can call me Vin.” Slowly he entered the kitchenette and took a seat at the table, motioning for Lana to join him. “You’re the wolf. Where’s the
Wyndewin?
”

“What’s a
Wynde-whatever?
” Lana shrugged and started to inch her pistol out of its holster. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

The demon shook his head and morphed, letting Lana see his true form, which made her damn near wet her pants. She’d seen a Gravaki before, the one who had almost destroyed her pack and had killed her grandfather. This one was every bit as big. Since he’d been wearing baggy, stretchy sweats and a tank top, his clothing didn’t rip off when black and red scales replaced mahogany flesh, and he close to doubled in size. Curling black horns grew from the top of his glossy scaled head, and silver eyes with vertical pupils looked across the table at her as his talons tapped the Formica surface. “Satisfied?” His voice was a low growl, but he almost sounded amused.

“What the fuck do you want, Gravaki?” she asked, her own claws pricking at her fingertips, ready to emerge.

“Hey, you know your demons. Kind of odd for a wolf. Now I
know
you hang with
Wyndewin.
” He morphed back into his human form. Gravaki were true shape-shifters, able to take on any appearance they wanted. This one had obviously chosen a form that would be unremarkable in Detroit. His now clawless palms flattened on the table. “I want to talk to you and the wizard. That’s all.” His English held the flavor of the Detroit streets without being over the top.

“Why should I believe you?” Gravaki was known for being a nasty place, and most of the demons that came through to this world from there were pretty—well—demonic.

“I didn’t kill the idiots in the bedroom. They’re just going to get in their car and drive to his parents’ place in Ohio until this is over with.” He shrugged. “You might find this hard to believe, but I’m actually on your side.”

“Right. I do find that a little tough to believe, since last time I saw a face like yours it was on the creature that killed my grandfather.”

The demon—Vin?—winced. “Ouch. I’d say I’m sorry, except I have no idea what happened with the dude who started all the trouble. We’re talking about the asswipe known as Nightshade, right?”

Lana nodded.

“Well, he’s a distant cousin of mine, but I’m just as glad he’s dead. Figured as much after he disappeared, leaving his operations in chaos.”

A few short staccato knocks sounded at the door. “Lana?”

“That will be your magic friend.” He gestured toward the door. “Let him in, please.”

Mindful of the humans still in the other room, Lana moved sideways to the door, not taking her eyes off the demon who sat unmoving, a grim smile on his remarkably average-looking face.

“I’m fine,” she hastened to assure Des when he stepped inside and laid eyes on the demon. “Our
friend
here says he just wants to talk to you.”