Some Kind of Magic (17 page)

languorously over him only to stop. He wriggled.

“Holy… I thought that was a myth.”

“What?” Ray ran his fingertips over Cal"s ass, feeling the

skin hot from his grip earlier. Cal wriggled again, sliding up

to plant that ass right where it felt the best. He leaned over

Ray, sucking kisses onto his neck, sprinkling him with

delicate glitter.

“The „werewolves can go all night" thing.” Actually, Cal

wasn"t doing too badly in that department either.

“Oh, that.” Ray licked his lips, opening his eyes wide as

Cal moved. He couldn"t possibly be…. He was. He tossed Ray

a smile that was positively wolfish as he licked his hand,

stroked Ray"s stiff cock, and then arched up.

“Oh, that,” he mocked gently as he slid down on it, and

Ray groaned. The slow flutter of Cal"s wings as he rocked up

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116

and down was the only sound other than their breathing for

a long time.

RAY was staring shamelessly the next morning. It might be

his last chance. That was what he told himself, though he

had a feeling even if he saw this every morning he would still

stare like this.

Cal lay stretched out on his bed, where they"d finally

ended up sometime last night. They"d even managed to sleep

for a few minutes before waking again just before dawn,

reaching out without thinking as though neither of them

could be satisfied.

Cal"s original wounds had healed over, but had been

quickly replaced with a new set of round bite marks at his

shoulder, his neck, his thighs. Finger-shaped bruises colored

his inner thighs too, and his hips, and his stomach. Burn

from Ray"s stubble was across his chest and at his neck. His

skin glistened with sweat. His mouth was swollen and red,

open, as he stared back up at Ray from where he"d propped

himself up on a few pillows.

He hadn"t moved, not in the time Ray had showered and

gotten dressed for work. Not even to join him in the shower,

though he"d seemed tempted. Not even to cover himself with

a blanket, not that he seemed chilled.

Ray frowned at the thought anyway, at the wrecked, lost

expression in Cal"s eyes, the bruised heat of his nipples, and

softly pulsing waves of
want
he could still detect. Cal was

breathing hard as he watched Ray button his shirt, so

exhausted that he wasn"t even sparkling.

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117

Ray frowned harder at that, and then made himself

move to open the blinds and let the morning sunshine pour

in. The yellow heat seemed to seek Cal out, and Cal

immediately shut his eyes to bask in it, decadent and needy

at the same time. Ray smiled a little, sadly, where Cal

couldn"t see it, and headed to his kitchen. He didn"t care

much for sugar normally, but he grabbed the sweetest thing

he had in the house and a spoon before heading back. He

kneeled on the bed as he offered the jar of honey to Cal.

It wasn"t his best idea. Cal blinked back to awareness,

beamed
at him, and tore open the jar, only to begin slowly

sucking honey into his mouth, one spoonful at a time.

“And breakfast in bed….” He was speaking. Ray tried to

pay attention to anything that wasn"t his warm smile or his

sticky, golden-coated mouth. It didn"t really work. He leaned

back down to pet over what he wished was his, kissing his

way across that bruised chest, and Cal instantly turned

toward him for more, breathing faster.

“Callalily,” Ray exhaled. He couldn"t seem to stop saying

it. “Callalily.” And each time, Cal murmured back at him,

like a purr, “Yes, Ray?” As though Ray only had to ask.

Ray slid his lips over yet another bruise, nipping at the

flavor, complex and simple and delicious. Cal spilled honey,

and Ray tasted that, too, sucking another mark before he

realized what he was doing. He pulled away, flushed and

breathing heavily.

The marks would fade in a matter of hours. The thought

made him bend back down to lick at the raised, sore flesh of

the bite marks, craving Cal"s small whimpers and going

bright inside when Cal laughed, his throat thick with honey.

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“Ray Ray. You hound. You animal. You demon. You—”

He stopped so suddenly that Ray stopped too, pulling back

to watch some realization wax and wane on Cal"s face. His

glitter cloud returned with a burst of energy, and then Cal

was moving, his listlessness gone as he bounced to his feet,

barely pausing to set down the honey jar before he was

walking away.

Running, half-flying even with tiny wings, down the hall

toward the front door and out it without another word.

Without even grabbing his pants.

Ray stayed where he was for a moment longer, then very

carefully got back to his feet. “Fairies,” he said out loud, as

though that would make it any easier.

“Fucking fairies,” he said again, because there were only

so many times he could take the sight of Cal walking out of

his life, and then turned to finish getting dressed.

HE SHOULD never have let himself hope for more than that.

He"d known that, and he"d done it anyway, so it was his own

fault. He"d never had a night like last night and wouldn"t

again, probably, with his mate alive but not with him. But he

should be thankful for that and making Cal so happy. So

over the top, ridiculously
happy
, even for a fairy.

Not moping and tired and refusing every offer Penn

made to go buy him some steak. She was getting worried,

and irritated, he could tell without
smelling her, but he

couldn"t help his mood. He
could
help catch a murderer

however, and that was his plan.

Catch a killer so he"d be off the streets and

coincidentally, Cal and Benedict would get assigned to some

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119

other detectives who had a magic problem, and Ray could

take a few weeks of his built up vacation time to disappear

into the woods.

That was all he was asking for. That and to be left alone.

It wasn"t meant to be. His only warning was a waft of

fresh candy-apple warmth, and then Cal was swooping into

his lap, his head against his shoulder, his ass pressed tight

to him, his arms sliding up to encircle his neck.

The whole station was watching, Ray could tell, felt the

hairs at the back of his neck rise.

It felt so good. Natural. He looked away from Cal"s eyes

and whatever it was they saw.

“Orange Blossom.”
Callalily
, it echoed through his mind.

He wanted to say it.

“Fido.” Cal offered him a come-hither smile, madden-

ingly familiar, and Ray couldn"t take it. He moved his head to

the side, caught Penn and Benedict staring, along with every

uniform and civilian in the bullpen. The detectives at least

attempted to be discreet.

“Oh my God.” Benedict made a face. “You know you"re

at work, right? Gross. No PDAs please.”

“Seriously,” Penn added, though the look she gave Ray

was filled with too much understanding. Her eyes were sad,

her eyebrows raised. Ray shook his head, confusing her, he

could tell, and then frowned and pushed Cal out of his lap.

Cal"s expression was frozen as he twirled to his feet. He

looked honestly shocked, without a sign of his adorable fake

pout.

“As to the case.” It was Penn who broke the silence and

let Ray look at someone else. “After the last one had…

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120

suffered considerable damage… perp still broke his neck.

Maybe a coup de grâce, who knows? He was certainly dying

anyway.”

“So what?” Ray had to clear his throat. “He just

suddenly escalated to… animal-level violence after all the

other, more efficient kills? It doesn"t make sense.”

“Ooh, well,” Cal stepped away from him then, slid over

to lean against Penelope"s desk. He looked unhappy as he

held a hand over the surface. “Bens and I have a theory

about that.”

“Right.” Benedict was glaring at Ray. It was a pretty

decent glare, considering his knees were probably knocking

together. Then he turned to Penn too. “The chalk. It"s at

every scene, or almost.”

“It could speak to signature.”

“Or it could speak to spells. Specifically, circles.

Specifically, demon circles. Cal thought of it today, and it"s

not that farfetched. The other day you told him you smelled

sulfur….”

At their silence and blank faces, Benedict must have

misunderstood and assumed they didn"t get it. “You know,

you make an initial circle to stand in and summon a demon

to do your bidding. Then when you need the demon again,

you can make a quick new circle, and do it again. As long

you"re inside the intact circle, you"re okay—”

“There hasn"t been a case of that in decades.” Two of the

first magic laws on the books had been the laws against

demon enslavement and demon enslavement with malicious

intent.

Penn gave a low whistle. “Imprisoning a demon against

his will is a felony alone. Using him to commit murder….”

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“And no serial killer is going to let a demon do his dirty

work—if you"ll forgive my sexist use of the word
his
, but

statistically most serials
are
male,” Benedict explained

politely to Penn, who grinned. Her teeth made Benedict look

like he was reconsidering his statistics.

Ray rubbed his nose. He"d met a demon or two. They all

smelled
exactly
the same, like fire and brimstone. Sulfur.

But even with their reputation, murders like these hadn"t

occurred to him as being demon related.

Crap. The danger was actually worse than he"d

anticipated. It didn"t make what he was doing any easier.

“So then.” Cal licked his mouth and twisted to stare at

him again. Light shone from his hand, and then he opened a

drawer in Penn"s desk and dug around. Then Penn"s face

became a study in malicious intent for a moment as Cal

pulled out a sandwich baggie of unwrapped sugar cubes.

“What are you doing?” Penn was almost twitching.

“Have those always been in there? In
my
desk? Is that how

you do it?”

“Not everything is magic, you know. And I wasn"t sure

they were still in there.” Cal tried a charming smile, then

shrugged when that didn"t work. “What? It isn"t like you got

ants. And we have a bigger issue, remember? We"re back to

my theory. That all this is about Ray.”

The redirect worked. They all looked back at Ray.

“Could still be a vigilante. A coincidence.” He didn"t

believe that, not anymore. But it only reinforced his

determination to do what he had to.

“To quote my father, „there"s no coincidence in

homicide",” Cal declared coolly.

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122

“Even if you"re right.” Cal
was
probably right. Ray knew

it, but had to argue for the case, to be sure. “Why me? I had

no
particular
problem with these guys.” They only kept on

staring at him, all of them. “No more than any other

scumbag. Quit it,” he snapped. “I"m not a murderer.”

But just as he"d had to argue for the case, Cal looked at

Benedict and laid it out anyway.

“You
did
threaten to break that guy"s neck.”

“And very publicly. Everyone knows you did and that

you could. Physically, I mean. But the last one,” Benedict

countered like he was in debate class. Maybe they"d taken

that together in high school too. “That last one….”

“But it"s what the wolf would do, right? If you let it

loose. If the person deserved it enough.” Cal fixed Ray with a

thoughtful look. His wings flapped, then settled. Penn made

a noise like she couldn"t believe what she was hearing.

Ray only leaned back, dropping his head to stare at Cal.

He didn"t deny it. Anyway, Cal had seen him with

Kirkpatrick, had clearly drawn his own conclusions.

“So,” Cal finished, and then nonchalantly opened the

bag of sugar. “I think you were either being framed or it was

meant to impress you.” He popped a cube into his mouth,

making a strangely sour face as it dissolved on his tongue.

“But—”