Chaos Burning (12 page)

When he laughed his head tipped back and exposed the line of his throat and she nearly gasped at how hard it was not to lean in and lick it. In fact…

Simon had been turned on. Amused. Annoyed. Frustrated and surprised. But nothing had prepared him for the jolt of her body pressed to his, her tongue sliding from the hollow of his throat up to his jaw. A snarl came to his lips as he gripped her upper arms and hauled her even closer. He wanted that smart mouth of hers. So much it blinded him to anything else but need of her.

Her gasp of surprise deepened into a moan of desire. Sounds he swallowed, taking them in just like he sampled her taste. Bright and sensual. Her mouth was warm nights and sticky sweet flowers on the breeze. She kissed surely. There was no
mistaking that she wanted this as much as he. Her lips were plump against his mouth, against his teeth as he caught the swell of her bottom lip between them and tugged.

Her fingers clutched into his borrowed T-shirt, holding him close. As if he had plans to go anywhere.

A quick, curious dance of tongue against tongue, then he was the one who groaned when she sucked his tongue into her mouth, as the other things she could do with tongue and mouth flashed through his imagination.

A ringing sounded, drew his attention from that holy mission of a mouth and away, away to realize it was a cell phone and the phone in the house. Both ringing.

She sighed and then nipped his bottom lip, tugging and then licking to soothe the sting.

“I’m going to kill whoever it is that’s calling.”

“Get in line.” She stepped back and he filled the space. “Stop that.” It wasn’t her normal sharp, annoyed tone. She was breathless from the kiss, from desire and he wanted her even more. His beast stirred, pushing closer, pressing against his human skin. He wanted to pursue, wanted to touch and mark.

“I can’t even think with you this way.”

It was the soft note in her words, the realization that she was torn between work and this thing between them that brought him the strength to take a step back. “This isn’t done. Just on hold for now.” She needed to know that.

She nodded and reached around his body to grab the phone.

Chapter 10

“I’M
on my way. Give me a few minutes to slug back some coffee and get a shower,” she answered when she saw Nell’s name on the display.

“Don’t hurry too much. Two of the prisoners are dead.”

Lark sat heavily. “What? How?”

“We don’t know. Both have been taken for an autopsy. Our people are looking at it.”

“I didn’t do this to them. Not that I’d feel bad if I had, but I didn’t. Hell, I only used the spell on Andrew. I went the long way with the others, just questioning them face-to-face.”

“I know. It was all on tape anyway. And Meriel made sure to clear that up right away. The Kelly sisters say without a doubt that while the spell you used was invasive, it wasn’t fatal. That’s proof enough. I’m not blaming you.”

But they didn’t call her right away and she’d need to deal with that. Not right then, though. First to clean up the biggest mess.

“All right. So what’s next? Sheila was looking into the stuff I found out.” Lark didn’t want to use names. Not over the phone. She didn’t want to speak and get the attention of something she didn’t know enough about. Not yet.

Nell continued. “We should meet. I want to go over everything with you and we can talk about next steps. You’re in charge now.”

“Are you all right with that? It’s just temporary until you’re ready to come back.” Lark liked Nell. Respected her and what she’d done with the Hunter Corps in Seattle. The last thing she wanted to do was come in and screw things up.

A cup of tea appeared and she glanced up to thank Simon, caught again by how different everything seemed, though it was also the same.

“If Gage hadn’t suggested it, I would have. I’ve been thinking about it since you arrived. Come to my house when you can. I’m here for the next whatever months. William is making a huge breakfast so there’s plenty for you. Coffee too.”

“Me too.”

Lark closed her eyes at the sound of Simon’s voice.

“Is that Simon? You total slut! Has he been there all night? Tell me! I mean the way the man walks, you can just tell he knows what to do to make a girl all satisfied.”

Lark snorted, blushing furiously. “He brought me home last night after the interrogation. And slept in the
guest
room.”

“For god’s sake, why? Look at him! Why are you not availing yourself of all that deliciousness?”

Simon laughed then.

“Cripes, Nell. Have William take care of you more regular-like. You’re a horndog.”

Though she couldn’t argue with Nell’s observation that one could tell by the way Simon moved that he knew what to do in bed. She’d seen him swim, seen him run and after last night she’d seen him fight. And the kiss just a few minutes before? She was still tingly from it.

“Whatever. Bring him. William likes him. Meriel and Gage are coming too.”

Nell hung up and Lark put the phone down and stood. “I need a shower.”

Simon’s left eyebrow rose slowly and she steeled herself against it.

“You don’t have to go with me, you know.”

“If I follow you into the shower, we’d never get out the door today.”

“You have a one-track mind, Simon Leviathan. I meant to Nell’s. I didn’t
invite
you to shower with me.”

Again the smile. “Mmm-hmmm. Tell me you aren’t thinking about me wet. Water and soap sliding down my chest and belly.” To underline this, he traced his fingers down his chest and farther south until her mouth totally dried up.

“Stop that.”

“It’s enough—for now—to see that reaction. And I know I don’t have to go with you to Nell’s. I want to. This is bigger than just Clan Owen and you know it. This is my city too. You’re my friends and I take that seriously. I can help. Plus you get into trouble when you’re on your own. No harm in getting your back.”

“It’s not like I’m running with scissors.”

He shook his head and took her hand. “You’re an eminently capable woman. A warrior. I don’t know what someone has told you in the past about that to make your lips harden and get defensive. But you’re a fine warrior. I’m not worried you can’t handle yourself. I want to get your back. Didn’t you work in teams back in L.A.?”

She nodded.

“So let me do that here. For now, get yourself cleaned up. And take the tea. That bruise makes me want to punch a hole in a wall.”

“Why?” She couldn’t wrap her head around it. Around this change in his behavior.

He moved toward her and her heart kicked up again. “Because it offends me that anyone would have injured you enough to leave a mark.”

“I meant the job part. The getting my back part.”

“Because I like it.”

She scampered past him and down the hall. “Great. Well. You can drive. And lift heavy stuff. Ass kicking is my job. I like that part. You can’t have that part.” She ducked into the bathroom and locked the door behind herself. As if it would stop him if he wanted in. Also, it wasn’t like she was actually opposed to him coming in. But not then. Maybe never. Simon
wasn’t a man she could get away with having sex with a few times. He was a shifter.

She bent to turn the water on. Not a shifter, a Lycian. Which was the same, only more intense because Lycians were more entwined with their beasts. They didn’t only turn at the full moon, they shifted whenever they wanted and with relative ease.

But they were overbearing. Overprotective. Uber alpha males. It was hot, but she wasn’t going to poke around and make mistakes right then. And he was six hundred and change. She was in her twenties. He’d lived a lot of life and she was just getting started. While she had no doubt it would make him a superstar in bed, the rest of the package was one she really couldn’t think about right at the moment.

SIMON
took a decidedly cold shower in the guest bathroom and thought over this utter revelation. It had been Lark, all along.

From the first moment he’d met her he’d liked her and sought her friendship out. He’d subconsciously been building the foundation to something far more intimate and serious with her.

The memory of their kiss slammed into him. Her taste, the strength of her beneath his hands. She’d gotten under his skin, past his defenses.

As a Lycian male, he was always on guard for his reaction to females who were Others. Humans weren’t a threat. Though he knew some Lycians who’d married humans, it was too steep a price for most Lycians to watch their partner age and die as they didn’t.

But a witch? Well, a witch wasn’t human. A witch was an Other, like him. He could have lots and lots of babies with another paranormal. And if he took the extraordinary step of the binding with her, she’d gain a Lycian’s metabolism. Including the very slow rate of aging.

He hadn’t ever felt it necessary to settle down for very long. He was six hundred years old, he’d lived all over the universe, had met people from all kinds of places. He’d trained
and served in his father’s private militia. Had led them for several centuries.

There’d been plenty of time and more than enough females and yet he’d never been moved by any of them to want to settle in and make a life. He’d never planned on Lark.

She was everything a Lycian male could possibly wish for. And now he itched to claim. To mark.

Sighing, he rinsed off. Lark Jaansen was a tough woman. Strong on so many levels. He’d admired that first. Which, looking back, had been the issue. They’d been friends first. He hadn’t seen her in a sexual or romantic way. He hadn’t bothered keeping her at arms’ length like he might have another female. Instead he’d been impressed by how fast a runner she was. By her stamina when they’d been out in the forest around his home. Never fell behind when they’d been racing or climbing. She nearly kept up with him in the pool. She was a whip-smart investigator too.

Up all night. Card playing, not opposed to a good cigar and quality scotch. He’d spent a lot of time with her as she’d been in town and by the time he stood there pulling his shorts on, it was too late for him to un-know those things. Those things the Lycian in him found regal and incomparable in any other female.

Man and beast found her fascinating and unequaled.

By the time he got dressed, she was pulling her boots on by the front door. Her weapons case nearby. God help him, the sight of it sent a thrill through him.

“You smell good.”

She’d said things like this to him before. He knew she found him attractive, so banter back and forth with slight flirty undertones had been fine. But now he found himself reading into what she said in an entirely new way.

“Just soap. But thanks.”

She looked up and he noted she’d dealt with her knuckles. The sight of the bandages filled him with so much anger. Impotent anger that anyone would harm her.

“I don’t like seeing you scraped up.” He bent to grab the case but she slapped his hands away.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to touch a girl’s guns?”

He laughed. “Surprisingly this was not part of the education I received as a youngster.” He bowed and she took the case. “You said you wanted me to carry the heavy stuff. I was just attempting to make myself useful.”

She fought against a smile but lost and he grinned back. This—whatever it was—slipped back into the ease they’d had before and a part of him relaxed. “I mean big boxes. Also you can pump gas. I hate that part. Makes my hands stink. I bet yours don’t. Also my gloves. I should have brought those.” She was thinking of them, he could tell, and then she returned back to him. “Shouldn’t you wear a coat? Your hair is wet.”

He liked that she noticed. “My body temperature runs about ten degrees higher than the average human. I don’t need a coat today. Come on.” He opened the door and went out first, checking the hallway. “All clear.”

She looked around. “No. No, it isn’t.” She gagged and then waved a hand in front of her face. “We should go. Now.”

His system went on full alert at the alarm in her voice and the tension in her stance. They hustled to the elevator and he didn’t fail to notice the way she already had a handgun in her grip, at the ready.

“Is it safe?” Simon scented the air, not detecting anything but the greasy, slightly burned stench the mages carried. It wasn’t fresh though.

“They’re not here. Now. But they were. Which means they got through most of the warding. Close enough to the door.”

“You’re staying with me from now on.” He hustled her from the elevator toward his car. The scent was here, but far more faint than it was upstairs. His beast was close, as he scanned the area.

“They’ve been down here. Wait.” She put a hand on his arm to stay him and moved closer to his car, using her othersight, he knew by the faraway look on her features.

She eased around the vehicle, examining, her lips moving. And then she put the weapon in a holster he never noticed and then to his astonishment cut herself.

The scent of her blood hit him in the gut. And not entirely unpleasantly. His beast liked the way she smelled. But neither beast nor man liked that she was bleeding. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Stop yelling and keep back. You’re messing with my mojo.” She drew on the car in her blood as she spoke. The air around them seemed to breathe in and hold before loosening again and the symbols she’d drawn seemed to fade into the car itself. He watched, fascinated, as she moved from place to place, drawing on the car or in the air as she spoke until she finally got to her knees, bent to touch her forehead to the ground and stood, straightening. “We’re all right now.”

He sighed and moved to open her door. She got in and buckled her seat belt as he went to the other side.

“What did you just do? Are we okay? Did they mess with my car? Is this safe?”

“You have decent warding on the car. They didn’t break it. It could be that they didn’t know it was your car. But I bet they did. They’re pretty organized. So I boosted the spellwork with my blood and my own rite. Blood is powerful magick. It’s older than some of the other craft we practice today. Western witches especially seem more wary of it.”