Killing Time (8 page)

Blinking the memory away, I withdrew my hand from Koda’s. Thinking that I had no place at such a fine table, I tried to push the chair back, but he reached to hold it in place.

“Sephti, look at me.”

I didn’t want to, but it was the least I could do for having disgraced myself. Lifting my head, I looked doggedly at his chin—I couldn’t bear to see the loathing I was sure must be in his eyes.

“I owe you an apology,” he reflected. His jaw tightened when I shook my head. “The last thing I wanted to do was…well, what I wound up doing.”

Incredulous, I raised my gaze to meet his and was dumbfounded by the shadows there.

His voice was a deep rumble. “Can we try this again?”

“I don’t belong here,” I whispered, pinned by his continued regard.

He barked a laugh. “Neither do I.” At my disbelieving expression, he shifted in his chair to look at me more fully. “I am a creature of nature. I’m far more comfortable in the wild than seated at a mahogany dining table in a fine hotel.”

“Then why…?”

Faint color tinted his cheeks, but he held my gaze. “This damned suicidal path you’re on, Sephti. I hate that you’re so easily giving up on life when you’ve only just begun to live. I thought if I showed you that the world is full of many fine things, things you’ve never even imagined, you might reconsider your enthusiasm for dying.” He gave an embarrassed chuckle and rubbed his jaw. “But it seems I’ve only made things worse.”

“You did this thing? For me?” I whispered, stunned. Blushing at his continued regard, I cast a look over the loaded table. My stomach chose that moment to reassert itself by grumbling loudly, making me laugh despite my embarrassment.

Reaching shyly for the knife and pointy utensil—
fork,
I corrected myself, grumbling inwardly that the History Channel had taught me all about the past but not so much about making my way
today
—I took them awkwardly in my hands and sawed off a bite before transferring it to my mouth, mimicking Koda’s earlier actions. Risking a glance, I nearly choked to see him lift a hunk of meat from his plate and bite into it.

Watching me while he chewed, his eyes danced merrily. After he swallowed, he said, “You’re right. This is a much more efficient way to eat.”

Smiling, I touched a fingertip to his fork where it lay on the table, even now careful not to reach toward his plate. As he took the utensil, his knuckles grazed the side of my hand, shooting sparks up my arm. The air filled with possibility as our gazes met and held.

He blinked a few times and inhaled sharply, as if he was trying to clear his head. The moment passed, and flustered, I busied myself with slicing off another piece of…“What is this, anyway?” I asked, blushing at the roughness of my voice. My poor capillaries were getting a helluva Koda-inspired workout.

“Filet,” he answered and I hid a smile that his voice was even rougher.

I went to work on my dinner, a strange and entirely pleasant thrill warming me as I watched him from the corner of my eye. It seemed to me that he was doing the same and our awareness of one another escalated in the comfortable silence between us.

Koda poured a deep red liquid into a tall glass and set it beside me before doing the same for himself. “Red wine.” His lips twisted sardonically. “From California, not France.”

“Mmm,” I answered, like I had a clue what he was talking about.

He gave me a fleeting smile, telling me he wasn’t fooled. “How long have you been on the mortal plane?”

The personal question surprised me. “The moon has cycled three times.” I thought furiously. “So three…months.” I shot him a quick look to make sure I’d gotten the word right. For some damn reason, the longer I was in his company, the worse my mental functions were becoming.

He nodded, taking a sip from his glass. “How did you learn English?”

I laughed. “By spying on Round Ears. Once I figured out how motels work, I watched TV.” Hiding my embarrassment and hoping he wouldn’t ask me how I’d gotten the money to pay for the motels, I tried the wine. It stung my tongue and I hurriedly swallowed, then drank half a glass of water trying to get my throat to stop burning.

Koda took a bite of his filet, chewed and swallowed. “You speak the language well. You’re a fast learner.”

I’d never known praise. Never even considered receiving it. But my cheeks heated with startling pleasure, leading me to wonder uneasily at my reaction. Trying to deflect Koda and myself, I shrugged. “I’m just motivated. I doubted Jack spoke Fae and I had to be able to talk with him.”

“Ah yes. Your plan.” Koda’s brow creased. He ate half the food on his plate before he spoke again, his expression suddenly intent, like a thought had just occurred to him. “Anger doesn’t affect your command of English. But when you are—”

“When did you learn the language?” I interrupted, uncomfortable that he saw so much.

He gave me an amused look for redirecting the conversation. “I learned Old Norse first, since the Vikings invaded our home long before the European swarm.” He put his fork down and his expression hardened. “As each new wave of explorers arrived, I learned their tongue. Spanish, French, English.”

“How many languages do you speak?” I asked softly.

His tone was grim. “Too many.”

I ate in silence for a few minutes, watching him in my peripheral vision as he sighed and lifted his fork to poke at the food on his plate.

Without looking up, he asked, “How did you get onto the mortal plane?”

I flashed a grin, remembering. “I grabbed an aughisky’s tail and held on when he shifted here.” At Koda’s quizzical glance, I clarified, “Aughisky are púcas in horse-form.”

He looked blank.

“Time for a quick primer.” I tucked a leg up underneath myself so I could turn toward him. “There are two opposing courts, both made up of High Fae. The Light and their Seelie Court and the Dark with the Unseelie. Then there’s the Lesser Fae, which is everybody else who’s born, not genetically created—selkie, púca, tomte, redcaps, shuck, domovoi, pixies, kelpies, cait sidhe, cu sith, brownies—”

“Fae are the worst enemies we have ever known, yet we clearly have less knowledge of them than we realized,” Koda interrupted, going pale. “How many species are there?”

I gave him a sympathetic smile. “Your people don’t have to worry about them all. Only the Dark Fae are land-and power-hungry. The Light have been in exile for centuries and the Lessers are too busy dodging the Dark to bother anybody else.” I thought for a second. “Well, mostly.”

Koda studied me, his expression unreadable. “So you grabbed something’s tail?”

I nodded. “An aughisky, enslaved to the Dark king and his warriors as mounts. I overheard the rider talking about doing a reconnaissance and decided to go along. I was shaded, so he never knew I was there.”

“Clever.” Koda’s lips curved as I blushed.

“Expedient,” I demurred.

He lifted the silver cover from the last dish. “I think you’re going to enjoy this. It’s a chocolate caramel tart.”

I reached my fork toward the dark and golden wedge he revealed, wondering how anything could possibly taste as good as what we’d already eaten. Koda made a noise in his throat and I hesitated.

“Allow me,” he murmured, his voice deeper than usual. Using his own fork—something that struck me as strangely intimate—he held up a small bite. His gaze was challenging as he waited to see what I would do.

I breathed through my instincts’ snarling insistence that this was a trick, that I should snatch the food away before it could be pulled back. When the urge passed, I opened my mouth. Careful to keep my sharp teeth hidden behind my lips, I accepted the proffered bite. Then a sweet, rich, creamy explosion filled my tastebuds and I moaned aloud, closing my eyes to better savor the incredible flavors.

“Good?” Koda asked and I could hear the humor in his voice.

Swallowing, I nodded and opened my eyes to gaze longingly at the tart. “More, please.”

He made a noise in his throat, his attention riveted to my lips. “You’ve got some chocolate…there…”

I lifted a hand, but he caught it before I could wipe my mouth clean.

“Allow me,” he whispered, leaning closer.

I watched, spell-bound, while he bent and brushed his lips across mine almost hesitantly, like he was giving me time to pull back. A different kind of hunger stirred, and without thinking, I leaned into him. He grinned against my mouth before slowly, at decadent leisure, deepening the kiss. Such perfect pressure on my lips, such skill and passion, sent shivers racing through me. Koda’s tongue traced the contours of my mouth, gently. When I parted my lips, he groaned deep in his throat.

His hand found my nape and tilted my head to a better angle, allowing him greater access as he twined his tongue with mine. I shifted hungrily, my own hands rising to fist in his luxurious midnight hair. The feel of his warm, broad palm cupping my butt sent heat spiraling through my belly and I gasped into his mouth. An answering groan rumbled in his chest and he pressed me closer.

Then an awful thought slammed into me—so brutal, I actually flinched. Shoving clear of him, I put the room’s width between us.

“Why do you pull away?” he asked softly.

“Why do you kiss me?” I watched him through narrowed eyes as he rose from his chair. “Is this like dinner?”

Koda went still, watchful. “What do you mean?”

I just looked at him.

His face flushed with anger when he got it. “You think I’d…I’d
whore
myself out? You think I’d go that far to get you off your suicidal path?”

“You said you were trying to show me the finer things,” I accused.

He smirked. “You think I’m fine?”

Damn, he was arrogant! That he was also right only pissed me off more. “Luxury hotel, expensive meal…” I drifted off, looking at him pointedly.

“Excuse me all to hell,” he snarled. “But I’m not on the menu.”

Wondering if I’d gotten it wrong, I looked at him, uncertain. “Then why—”

“Did I kiss you? I’m beginning to wonder that myself.”

Stung, I got my chin up. “You didn’t seem so conflic…conflic…confused with your hand on my ass.”

He crossed the room, freezing a few feet away when I stiffened. “Your English is slipping. Why?”

“You kissed me,” I shot back. “Why?”

He bristled with anger. Then he went still and his eyes gleamed, like he’d suddenly solved a puzzle. “Just what are you running from, Coyote?”

Alarmed by the new awareness in his gaze, I stammered, “I am not knowing what you meaned.”

“You know exactly what I mean.” A languid smile lifted one corner of his inviting lips. “Speak straight.”

“Now you mock my words!” I snarled.

His jaw muscles flexed. “I meant I want you to tell me the truth.”

“Truth,” I echoed, my mind working furiously as I delayed answering him.

“Yes, dammit.” Koda’s eyes flashed and he took a step toward me, baring his teeth with angry triumph when I moved to keep distance between us. “Answer me.”

“I run from nothing!”

“Just me.” He gave me a hard look.

“I am sure I do not knowing what you mean,” I sniffed as my heart kicked into triple-time.

A long, appalling silence stretched between us—one I refused to break. Yeah, right. As if I had a clue what to say.

Koda nodded to himself and leaned away from me. In a low voice, he said, “It has been a long day and we both need to rest.”

As startled by his abruptly backing off as I was relieved by it, I edged around him, refusing to acknowledge the perception in his gaze. Arbitrarily going into the closer bedroom, my breath stuck in my throat as I stared at the bed. Sensing Koda’s presence, I turned to see that he’d come no further than the open doorway.

His eyes were veiled and he looked…hurt.

Quickly looking away, I pulled back the ridiculously thick comforter. My efforts to sit on the bed got the robe tangled around my legs. Yanking the thing out of the way, I sat down, tucking my hands into the terry cloth to mask their shaking.

Had I hurt Koda? By questioning his reasons for kissing me?

“Sephti?” His voice was low, rough, as he moved into the room. “Everything okay?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. Afraid to meet his gaze, afraid of what I might see there, I violently fluffed the pillows as an excuse to hide my face. Judging by his expression, his tone…I
had
hurt him.

A pillow fell over and I snatched it up, violently punching it as I put it back on top of the stack behind me. All the while, I was thinking, Why the hell did hurting Koda feel like a hot blade in my chest?

A long moment passed as he watched me, then he turned away. I jerked my head up, his name on my lips, only to remain silent when he sat in a wingchair a few feet from the bed. He leaned back, his face in shadows, but I could still feel his dark-eyed regard.

I jumped when he broke the silence, proving just how strung tight my nerves were.

“What caused your scars?” His voice was soft.

Stirring, I glanced down at my legs, now bare from having shifted the robe out of the way. I looked like I was a demented artist’s living canvas. The countless raised, silvery marks were round, oval and square. Some were long, meandering lines and some were swirling spirals. Many bore jagged edges, while others were almost pretty—if the savage application of metal to flesh could be thought of that way. With terrible clarity, I remembered each and every mark. Even worse, the agonizing methods employed to ensure those marks remained. Given the way my kind heal, my skin should’ve been as perfectly smooth as a newly created bittern’s.

The only positive to the designs cut, sliced, stabbed and burned into me was the warning they’d given others in the stable:
This one has endured much, survived much. Tangle with her at your own peril.

Realizing Koda was still waiting for me to answer him, I said the English words in my head first to make sure I got them right. “The usual. Training. Fighting.”

He made an impatient noise. “I’ve been a warrior for centuries and can recognize those marks. I meant the others.”