Reckoning: A Fallen Siren Novel (23 page)

I want him. Inside me. Now. Yet I resist the urge to take control. Zack feels it, too. His cock long, hard, and poised between my legs, is a testament to that fact. But neither of us wants to break the tenderness of the moment. It’s filled with possibilities I never thought I’d realize.

I wrap my legs around him, tilt my hips up.

He’s poised at my entrance.

“I want you so much, it terrifies me,” he confesses.

“I know.” Tears leak from the corners of my eyes. My heart feels close to bursting. “It terrified me, too.”

His brows furrow. “Not anymore?”

“Not anymore. Now, shut up and kiss me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says with a wink before moving away.

He licks his way down the valley between my breasts, pauses briefly to dip his tongue into my belly button, then nibbles his way over my hip bone and across to my inner thigh.

I feel the brush of his hair. The scrape of his beard. Fingertips gently separate my folds. Then the kiss comes. Openmouthed. Controlled tongue. I feel a vibration. A low, deep rumbling emanates from deep within Zack’s chest. I reach down with one hand and lace my fingers through his hair. The other is searching for purchase, clawing at the duvet. His finger slides inside as his mouth continues to work. I’m on the brink. Approaching the precipice. He adds a second finger. I’m writhing with want, wet beyond all imagination. And then I fall.

But I don’t come down.

No.

I’m soaring. Higher and higher.

“Christ, you feel so good,” Zack, inside me now, whispers into my ear. “I want this to last forever.”

We roll. I ride him. Knees on the bed. Hands splayed across his rippling abs. His are on my breasts. Then suddenly, he sits up. His arm wraps around my waist. His mouth covers my nipple.

I can’t breathe. I can’t climb any higher.

My fingers tangle in Zack’s hair. He looks up at me. His eyes possess the blue of the wolf. I kiss him, deeply, tasting myself on his lips and tongue. All the while we’re rocking, his cock thrusts into me, slow and deep. When the kiss ends Zack places his hand on the back of my head and pulls me closer still, until I feel his cheek against mine. The pulse of his breath on my ear.

“I love you,” he says.

Then he thrusts once, twice more.

I shatter. Rocked by an orgasm so intense, nothing can contain it. Nothing can contain me, not in this world or the last. Overcome with joy. I’m undone. Secure in the fact that Demeter promised no repercussions, I let the walls melt away. I let the light of my power shine through. I let him see my true self. The surge of energy warms the room. A wind rises up, dousing the fire, fanning the curtains, and instantly drying my hair. The combined scents of burning firewood and ocean are overshadowed by a delicate yet complex blend of white florals layered atop citrus.

Zack’s nostils flare.

The scent.

It’s the last thing I remember before succumbing to the light.

Day Five: Friday, September 6

When I open my eyes, dawn is breaking. Zack is standing at the foot of the bed. He’s fully clothed. I’m completely naked. He tosses me one of his shirts. Only it’s not a toss. He flings the shirt at me, and the instant my eyes meet his, I know that something is wrong.

Very, very wrong.

His eyes are cold, calculating, hardened.

Mine dart about the room, scanning the floor looking for evidence of Demeter’s presence, patches of ice, pools of water. I can barely form thoughts, hardly speak. But I feel her. “What have you done?” I shout.

I see nothing. Nothing but Zack, his glare skewering me.

“Does that look familiar?” Zack asks, pointing to the shirt I have clutched in my hands.

I glance down at it. Then back up at him. It doesn’t, but I have a horrible feeling that it should.

“I was changing the sheets up here a week after we closed the Patterson case. I found it under the bed.”

Bile rushes up and burns the back of my throat. My head is spinning.

“The scent on it wasn’t mine,” he continues. “It was faint, but distinctive. One that for the life of me, I couldn’t place. Until last night. It was yours.”

“You kept it all this time,” I say, hugging it to my breast. Knowing that Zack is slipping away, that Demeter has won again.

“In an evidence bag. You used magic on me, didn’t you, to make me forget. To manipulate me.”

“To protect you!” Tears begin to roll down my cheeks. “The spell was very specific. It only erased the intimate moments between us.”

“A convenient way to cast aside lovers you’ve grown tired of?” He shakes his head. “If you’re planning on using it again, you needn’t bother.”

He walks over to the chair in the corner of the room, picks up his suit coat, and slips it on.

I rush over, positioning myself between Zack and the door. “Let me explain. We have a chance here. I know you’re hurt and . . . and confused.”

“I
trusted
you.” He’s towering over me, reeking of sadness and fury. “I declared my love for you. And all the time you were playing me. This little deception of yours . . . If you think I can just let it go . . . Well, then you’re the one who’s confused. Now, get out of my way or I’m going to pick you up and move you.”

I step aside. “Where are you going?”

“To ask Johnson for a transfer. I’ll be back in an hour. I want you gone.”

I hear him pad down the stairs. I hear the front door slam. I hear the engine turn over on the SUV. Zack and
I came here together. What I was wearing last night is covered in blood. I have no clothes, no car. I crumple to the floor.

She knew.

She’s watching. Always watching. She knew about the shirt in the evidence bag. Knew Zack would put it together, feel betrayed.

For as long as it lasts.

With a burst of energy I climb to my feet, pick up the bottle of beer on the nightstand, and whip around, intent on throwing it into the mirror. Arm cocked back, I’m frozen in place. There’s no sign of the glamour I rely on. The reflection that stares back at me is the true one.

“The magic’s gone.”

“Apparently where Zack is concerned,” comes the ice-cold voice.

“How could you?” I whirl around. With every ounce of strength I have in me, I throw the bottle. With a wave of her hand, Demeter makes it explode. Its pieces embed deep in my face, neck, and stomach. The pain is excruciating. But it doesn’t begin to mask that of my broken heart.

*   *   *

I lie on Zack’s bedroom floor, bleeding. Knowing I’ll bleed more if I begin to pull out the shards of glass. A particularly large shard is stuck in my forehead over my right eye. My vision is clouded. I fear the one in my neck has nicked an artery. I don’t care.

“Not your best look.” The words are spoken so quietly from the door, I’m not sure I’ve really heard them. I try to turn my head toward them, but the wound in my neck is gushing now. I haven’t got the strength.

He comes to me. Kneels down next to my body. The carpet squishes under the pressure of his knee. He doesn’t wince. The blood doesn’t bother him.

“How?” I manage to get out.

“Seems Armstrong didn’t
entirely
sever our connection.” He plucks the shard of glass from my throat, then bends close and gives it a pull, followed by a lick, then another. The section over my eye gets treated next. Kallistos moves deliberately and carefully over my body, tending to the most severe wounds first. Once the bleeding is stayed, he bites his wrist and holds it over my mouth. “Open up. Just a few drops. It will help you heal.”

And it does. Kallistos’ blood is warm, sweet, slightly salty with only the slightest hint of copper. I close my eyes and, with effort, swallow.

“Demeter?” he asks.

I open my eyes, try to sit up.

Kallistos places his hand on my shoulder. “Give yourself a few more minutes.” His gaze sweeps the room. “Is he dead?” It’s asked with a hint of hopefulness.

I shake my head. Hot tears continue to leak from the corners of my eyes.

He wipes them away. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“She told me there would be no repercussions. She granted me a reprieve. But it was a trap.”

“Where’s Zack?”

“Gone. Probably in Johnson’s office by now, asking for a transfer.”

Kallistos offers me a hand and helps me to my feet. “I don’t understand.”

I’m shaky, but able to stand. “Liz provided me with a
spell to alter Zack’s memory. I used it. He found out. He hates me.”

“And he hasn’t even seen the carpet.”

“He’s never going to forgive me.”

“You used this spell in an effort to protect him.”

“Zack doesn’t see it that way.”

Kallistos slides off the leather coat he’s wearing and holds it out for me. “Armstrong’s an idiot. I don’t know what you see in him.”

The coat falls midthigh on Kallistos. It’s midcalf on me. “Take me home?”

He nods, wraps his arm around my shoulder. “Where are your things?”

I run down the list of what I came with. “Everything is in the guest room bath.”

“I’ll take care of it.” He gestures toward the bloodstained carpet. “This, too.”

Before I can respond, he’s off and back. He’s clutching my ruined clothes and cell phone.

“Looks like you have a text from Johnson.” He holds up the cell. It came in five minutes ago.

And I thought my day couldn’t possibly get any worse.

I step off the elevator. The office is quiet. It’s barely eight. The first place my eyes go to is Zack’s desk. His chair is empty. The second is our boss’ office. Bingo.

Jimmy Johnson comes out of the break room, coffee cup in hand.

“Emma?” he says. “A word?”

I follow him back into the break room. He pours a cup of coffee and hands it to me. “How are you?”

I take a sip, knowing I can’t answer the question honestly. I raise my eyes to his. “I’m fine.”

He’s studying me. “From all the preliminary reports, it was a good shooting. I’m giving you your gun back, although when you return, there’ll be the requisite bullshit visit to the department shrink.”

I start to nod, then stop. “When I get back?”

“Go join your partner, Monroe,” he says, tilting his head toward Zack. “I’ll be in shortly.” He takes a sip of coffee, eyes watching me over the rim of the cup.

I give him a curt nod before weaving my way through the maze of indistinct gray cubicles to the office in the back. I knock before entering. “Jimmy asked me to join you.”

I sit in the empty chair next to Zack’s. He doesn’t look at me. I catch my reflection in a picture behind Johnson’s desk. Thanks to Liz, my glamour is once again securely in place. My hair is pulled back, wound into a tight bun at the nape of my neck. I’m wearing a new black suit, courtesy of Kallistos. It’s paired with a simple white silk blouse. I want to speak, but can’t find the words.

Zack breaks the silence. “You smell like him.”

He’s yet to look at me.

“I needed clothes. And a ride.” I swallow. Thanks to Kallistos’ blood, my throat’s no longer sore from Lamont’s attack, but words are still slow to come. “Kallistos sensed that I was in need of help and showed up in your bedroom.” That gets Zack’s attention. “The mark may be gone, but something remains of the connection.”

“That didn’t take long. Hope you didn’t fuck him on my bed.”

His sarcasm is caustic, but underneath is anger tempered with sadness.

“I didn’t fuck him at all,” I manage to whisper.

Before Zack has a chance to respond, Johnson walks in and closes the door.

I sit up straighter. Wait, hands clasped together in my lap as he takes his seat.

Johnson leans forward, elbows on his desk. “The two of you are going to New York.”

It isn’t the announcement I was expecting. “Sir?”

“New York. The Big Apple.” He tosses a file in our direction.

Zack shifts nervously in his chair. “About my request—”

“Denied,” says Johnson.

“Our reports?” I ask.

“Work on them on the plane.” His finger moves between the two of us. “You think I don’t see what’s happened here? I don’t know how long it’s been going on. I don’t know what’s happened to end it. And I don’t give a shit. I don’t care about that any more than I care whether you floss, believe in God, or vote. Wanna know why? Because it’s personal.” He taps the top of the file and pushes it closer to Zack. “This is business. Your job. You’re good at it. They need you in New York. You leave this afternoon.”

Zack slowly reaches out for the file.

I hold my breath.

“It’s a kid,” Johnson says. “A seven-year-old. The son of Roger Maitlan.”

“The real estate mogul?” Zack asks.

Johnson nods. “One and the same.” He stands up, pulling open his desk drawer. He hands my gun to me. “Your flight leaves at noon. You can pick up your boarding passes at Southwest’s counter. You’ll have plenty of time to review the file on the plane. I suggest you get packing.”

It’s our cue to go. Zack and I rise in unison and head for the door.

“Agents?”

I turn back. “Sir?”

“Eyes on the ball,” says Johnson.

“Yes, sir,” I say.

More agents have arrived in the office. All eyes are on us. Some call out “Good job” and “Way to go,” even clap us on our backs as we pass. My skin crawls at the hypocrisy but I have no choice but to smile and accept their congratulations. The girls are home and safe. The secrets of the supernaturals have been protected. My
relationship with Zack is the only casualty of a case that to our fellow agents was a roaring success.

Zack stops at his desk. He opens a drawer, shuffles some papers around. He’s taking his time, as if avoiding having to get into the elevator with me. I wish I could say something to make this right. I realize bitterly I never can. I push the call button and the doors instantly open. I step inside. Turn around.

Just as the doors begin to slide shut, Zack steps in. “As soon as the case is over, I’m going to ask Johnson for that transfer again. And I’m going to keep asking until I get it.”

I turn to him and blurt out what’s true. “I don’t want you to leave.” I reach out, my fingertips brush his. “We’re good together.”

He pulls back, folds his arms across his chest, shakes his head. “I don’t know how to work with a partner I can’t trust.”

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t understand. I wish I could explain.”

“But you can’t,” he says.

I’ve gone over this in my head a thousand times. My conclusion is always the same. I know Zack, and I know Demeter. Her threats wouldn’t scare him. But they should. This is a fight Zack won’t win.

“It’s not safe. It’s better this way.” I try for a smile.

“Is it?”

I nod. “I’d say trust me but—”

The doors open. We step out, then head for the parking lot. Zack pulls a pair of sunglasses from his inside breast pocket and slips them on. I can no longer see his eyes.

“Johnson’s right. We have a job to do,” he says. “Nothing you say now is going to make a difference. What you did can’t be undone.”

“But maybe in time . . .”

He’s not looking at me. He’s looking out at the parking lot.

“Maybe in time,” I repeat, then step off the curb.

“Emma?” His voice is brusque. “I shouldn’t have left you high and dry. I’m sorry for that.”

I check the time. I wonder whether the carpet in Zack’s apartment has been replaced. “I understand.”

“Want a ride to your place?” he asks. “I can drop you off.”

“Thanks.”

Zack hands me the folder. We climb into the SUV.

It’s all so familiar, and all so different.

I open the file.

We have another case. I have another chance.

Zack pulls out onto Aero Drive and starts to head south on the 15.

My eyes are on the picture of a missing seven-year-old boy but silently I’m reciting the words I do every time I go out on a new case.

Redemption could be one rescue away.