Tempting Danger (25 page)

“
Merde!
Did Karonski tell everyone?”

“What?”

“Never mind. You said you didn’t do it for me.”

“You were one consideration.” She passed him again, achingly close. “The biggest one, though, was that they might succeed in taking me out. If I was the only one who knew for certain Therese’s murder was sorcery, I was a big liability for them. If they killed me and no one else knew—”

He shot to his feet. “I didn’t even think of that. I was so busy being crazy in that cell—”

“Why should you have? Took me awhile to see it, too. I’m not used to thinking of other cops as dangerous to me. I didn’t want to see that, but once I did, I knew I had to make sure I wasn’t the only one looking at things from that angle. Telling the FBI was good, but it wasn’t enough. They could have been part of it, part of the conspiracy. I didn’t know.”

He dragged a shaky hand over his face. “Not Karonski.”

She was startled. “You know him?”

“It’s been awhile, but yes. I’d swear he’s honest. Irritating as hell sometimes, but honest.”

“What did he tell you, then?” She faced him, still for the moment.

“That you had called him because your captain wouldn’t. That you knew the Martin woman had been killed by sorcery, not a lupus. He didn’t say how you knew that. When I asked, he said I should ask you.”

“Well.” She chewed on her lip. “I guess he knows how to keep his mouth shut.”

“You don’t want me to know?”

“I don’t want him deciding who should know. But you . . .” She looked unhappy, but shrugged. “Why not? The captain’s planning to out me anyway, so it won’t be a secret much longer. I knew she’d been killed by sorcery because I touched the magic the killer left behind. I’m a sensitive.”

HE
had the funniest look on his face. Lily frowned and rubbed her arms. She felt weird herself—cold and hot at the same time. Jittery as hell. Aroused . . . well, that wasn’t strange. Rule’s presence flooded her tiny living room. He seemed to be pressing himself on her, though he wasn’t moving.

She had to get away from him. That thought, barely formed but imperative, started her moving again. “What is it? You aren’t spooked about sensitives, surely.”

“No . . .” He looked distant, shocked.

“Sometimes it helps in my work, knowing who is of the Blood or Gifted. Like your friend Max—that was a surprise. I’ve never met a gnome. But I didn’t mention what he was in my report. I don’t out people.”

He shook his head the way a dog shakes itself dry, seeming to return from some interior space. “No, of course not. This explains . . . much.”

Explains what? Had she given herself away somehow?
It doesn’t matter,
she told herself, impatient. Her secret would soon be no secret at all. Randall planned to put it in his report. He claimed he had to in order to explain why he’d put her in charge of the investigation.

She reached the wall, turned. Maybe he did. It would be easy to think of him as wrong about everything now, when they stood on opposite sides of such a chasm. But that would be a mistake.

Did the captain really believe Mech’s accusations? Or had he seized on them as a means to punish her for going out of the clan?

God. She was thinking like Rule, as if she and the captain were lupi. Had to stop that. She’d really get herself confused that way.

She needed to figure out what Randall believed. If he’d gone after her from vindictiveness, he’d proceed differently than if he truly believed she’d stepped outside the lines herself. He was her opponent now. She hated that, but he was bringing charges against her. She’d have to defend against those charges.

Lily paused, glanced at Rule—and away—and back. She couldn’t seem to look straight at him for more than a second. She couldn’t stop looking, either. “Your presence here tonight will not make it easier for me to refute Mech’s accusations.”

“I’m sorry.” There was a haunted look about his eyes. “I can’t put it off any longer,
nadia.
You have to know.”

“Know?” Her heartbeat spiked. She didn’t know why. Her mouth went dry, and she felt oddly aware of her fingers, her throat, her skin—the sort of supercharged awareness she’d had sometimes when danger turned the world crisp.

Without even noticing, she stopped moving. “Know what?”

“You and I are chosen for each other.”

There wasn’t enough air. She tried to laugh anyway. “What’s that? Some sort of lupus pickup line?”

“It means we are mates, chosen for each other by the Lady. Bonded for life. There is no breaking this bond short of death.”

“That’s crazy. That’s just crazy.” She had to move. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. “You can’t expect me to believe that.”

“It’s easily proved. If I reached for you right now, put my hand on you, you would be mine. In spite of all you have to lose, you wouldn’t be able to refuse me. Your need is too great.”

“That—that—” She managed to tear her eyes away and was able to move again. To pace. “You’ve gone beyond arrogance to ugly.”

“You can’t settle. Something’s eating you from the inside. I can smell your arousal each time you walk past me.”

She went pale, then flushed. “Then breathe through your mouth, dammit. That’s just—it’s intrusive. You have no business—”

“I can’t help it. No more than you can. To be chosen is to have many choices taken away. They say that other choices arrive, some sweet, some terrible. It’s a rare thing, to be chosen.” He was bitter, not seductive. “You don’t want to believe, but you must.”

“I
don’t
believe. I don’t worship your Lady, and I don’t think you’re in love with me.”

“That’s as well. The primary bond is between our bodies, not our minds and hearts. Though I like you very much, Lily,” he said with a smile as sad as it was breathtaking. “I admire and respect you as well. We have much to build on.”

She couldn’t say those things back to him. Not because they were untrue. Because she didn’t dare. “I don’t think God hands out a sexual
geas
. That’s what you’re talking about, isn’t it? Not a romantic bond, but some sort of divine
geas
.”

“Tell me to leave.”

Her feet faltered.

“If I’m wrong, if you are free to choose, tell me to go.”

She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

“Two days ago, you had a dizzy spell you didn’t understand.”

Her head was whirling
now
.

“It passed within moments, fortunately. Because I realized what was happening and moved closer to you. There are limits to how far we can be separated. I’d surpassed those limits, and we both suffered.”

Her heart beat frantically. “I’m bespelled,” she whispered.

“Can a sensitive be bespelled?”

She shook her head. “But I must be.”

“You aren’t thinking straight right now,” he said gently, stepping closer, “but that isn’t your fault. I’ve the advantage of having had time to absorb the change in my condition. You haven’t. You feel you’re spinning wildly, coming apart while standing still. It will eat you alive, Lily. It’s eating me alive. We have to touch.” And he did.

His hands were large, smooth for a man’s—did he heal any calluses before they formed? He fanned his fingers out along along the sides of her face. She felt each finger clearly. She didn’t move. Her mind was washed white of thought, of possibilities, of anything other than the rightness of his touch.

He moved closer, bringing his head down as if he would kiss her. He didn’t. Instead, his breath washed over her mouth. “Breath to breath,” he whispered. “Sweet, so sweet to breathe you in.”

The air itself had turned rich. Breathing was heady, intoxicating. Her skin was alive and her body ached. But one thing remained missing. “Why can’t I feel you? When we touch, why don’t I touch your magic?”

“Ah. That must have confused you. I would guess that our magics mesh so smoothly you can’t touch the difference.”

She jolted. “I don’t have magic.”

“Sweetheart.” He abandoned her face to gather her close. His clothes were damp, his body hard and hot. “What do you think it means to be a sensitive, except that you’re Gifted? A very rare Gift, but still a Gift.”

Later. She’d think about what he’d said later. How could she think with his body touching hers? Her skin seemed to vibrate like the skin of a drum. And his face, so near hers, the sheer fascination of it . . . She traced his eyebrow with one finger. “I’m pretty much scared shitless, you know.”

He answered with the sudden flash of a grin, so much less seductive than his smile. So much more dangerous. He was real when he grinned. “You do delight me.”

“That’s great. I’m scared, and you’re delighted.”

He shook his head, his grin fading. “We have so much to learn about each other.” He ran his hands up her sides. “Later. I need you now, my
nadia,
my only one.” He crushed his mouth down on hers.

Everything in her leaped to meet him. His taste—yes, she’d tasted him before, and she needed that, needed him—

A terrible, unearthly howl filled the air. She jerked back, eyes wide. He jolted and tilted his head up, eyes closed, his chest heaving. “Mother help me. Your cat wants in.”

Oh. Oh, yes, of course,
she thought, leaning her head on his chest, trying to capture her breath. That was definitely Harry, howling his challenge. “He smells you.”

“Yes.” He sounded grim. “You love this cat?”

“Of course.”

“Of course.” He sighed. “A dog would have been so much easier. And he’s male, too. You had better let him in.”

“But—”
But I can’t let go, can’t just stop, I hurt with wanting. Couldn’t you—couldn’t we . . .
She shook her head, denying the image that had flashed through it. Her body mocked her, telling her clearly what she needed. Him. In her. Now. “I’m losing my mind.”

“You’ll regain it, but not until we join. First, though—” He grimaced, dropping his arms as he stepped back. “I must meet your cat.”

She swallowed. She had to let Harry in. The neighbors would complain, maybe throw things at him. She didn’t want him hurt. He was still howling, that rising and falling combat song of his. “I don’t think meeting him is a good idea. I’ll put him in the bedroom.”

“No.” Rule shook his head. “He needs to defend you. Let him in.”

“You won’t—”

“I won’t hurt him.”

He might hurt you,
she thought, and grimaced. That was ridiculous. Rule fought other werewolves, for crying out loud. He could handle a cat. Even a seventeen-pounder with major attitude problems. Couldn’t he?

She glanced over her shoulder at Rule as she reached the door. He crouched in the center of the room, knees flexed, arms ready. He was taking Harry’s challenge seriously.

Maybe he should. “Um—his name’s Dirty Harry.”

Rule’s eyebrows rose. “You named your cat for a fictional cop who blasts the bad guys?”

“It fits. Though his definition of bad guys is pretty inclusive.” She turned the lock and opened the door.

Harry shot in—straight at Rule.

They moved too fast, cat and man both, for Lily’s eyes to track them properly. She did see Harry leap. Rule seemed to translate from one spot to another without touching all the places between—something she’d seen Harry do at times. Then Harry was crouched a couple feet away, ears flat and tail lashing.

“That’s right,” Rule murmured, not taking his eyes off the cat. “You’ve the right to protect, but I won’t hurt her. You don’t wish to share, either, but that you will have to do.”

Harry leaped again. Rule ducked—and had a cat on his back. There was another blur of motion, this one ending with Rule rolling on the floor, Harry separated and spitting.

Blood dripped down Rule’s face. Lily took a quick step forward.

“Stay back,” Rule snapped without looking at her.

She halted. Man and cat stared at each other out of narrowed eyes while she tried to figure out why she was following Rule’s orders. And what, exactly, was going on.

Abruptly Harry gave one last growl and sat back on his haunches, looking away from Rule.

Rule straightened and turned his head, as if fascinated by the wall.

Harry stood, twitched his tail once, and stalked over to her, his fur still bristled. He stropped her leg once, meowed, and headed for the kitchen.

“He . . .” She swallowed what might have been laughter. “He wants me to feed him.”

“He needs to assert his place with you,” Rule said, still studying the wall.

“This is weird.” But she followed Harry into the kitchen, where he waited by his dish, glaring at her. She fed him and went back in the living room, shaking her head. “I’m obeying a cat and a sometimes-wolf. I don’t know what I’m doing. Obviously I’ve lost my mind. You’re still bleeding.” There were two crimson tracks along his cheek. One had bled down his neck. The other stopped just below his eye. She swallowed. “Did you let him do that? He barely missed your eye.”