Lustfully Ever After (19 page)

He stopped, holding up his hands to show empty palms and an earnest expression. “I’m sorry, I misspoke. It’s just—look, I know this area like the back of my hand, but the Gaslight District, it gets weird at night. We’re trapped until sunrise, when the paths straighten out again.” His expression turned rueful. “My business here ran late, and the Corbie Boys were set on keeping me here until sunset. We don’t get along. I don’t accept their delusions of territorial superiority.”

No stranger to weird corners of the world, I frowned. I’d explored abandoned mental hospitals, decommissioned cold war bunkers, and burned out schools; this somehow beat them all for unsettling.

“So we wander the streets until morning?” I asked. There was no life to be found around us, only gaslights casting inhuman shadows with their inadequate light.

Devin shook his head. “We find safe haven and hole up for a while. Trust me, the Corbie Boys aren’t the worst things hiding in the night.”

Of course not. I rejoined him. As he led the way, I kept close. Our footsteps were disturbingly loud in the otherwise silent night. I couldn’t hear the city anymore. “So you spend a lot of time here?” I asked.

“In the daytime, yes. Work brings me down here frequently, and I know the area pretty well.”

“How big is the Gaslight District?”

“As big as it wants to be. The outskirts and main streets
are pretty stable, anchored by landmarks like Club Euterpe or the Theatre of Dreams, but as you’ve seen, things…change the further you venture.”

This wasn’t reassuring, but I accepted it for the time being. At least I was in pleasant company. Devin had the cool, self-assured manner I looked for in a guy, confidence without arrogance. I could always rely on a guy like that. Especially in bed, where he turned that confidence into performance and took satisfying a partner as a worthwhile challenge. I glanced sideways, wondering how his lips would taste, how his hands would feel on me, how—I derailed that train of thought. I liked him, and he looked damned good in a suit, and it had been months since my last fling, but this was not the right time.

He caught me looking and quirked an eyebrow; I hoped it was too dark for my blush to show. There was something in his expression that suggested he liked what he saw. That he appreciated lanky blue-eyed redheads with fair skin, too many freckles, and slight curves. A partner once claimed I was built for speed, not comfort, like a greyhound, but Devin seemed fine with that. I reached back to adjust the red braid that fell past my shoulders, then shoved my hands into my jacket pockets instead.

As we passed dark alleys and crossed deserted streets, we fell into a comfortable silence. Soon, we came to a building lit against the darkness. It had no sign, no name identifying it as we approached, just a tall candle in the front window. Devin pushed the door open with a smile, waving me inside. His chivalry warred with my practicality; I almost insisted he go first, just in case. My aching feet and empty stomach cast their votes. Outvoted, I entered.

It was a cross between a bar and a pool hall, the sort of place where people come to feel at home and be themselves. While dim and dingy, it was also warm and welcoming. It smelled of
alcohol and tobacco, fried foods and cheap pastries, sawdust and chalk. It smelled like heaven. Oddly, we were the only ones here. I looked at Devin, both eyebrows raised. He shrugged. “There are safe places, and there are places that can be safe,” he said. “Unfortunately, this was the best I could do under the circumstances.”

“In other words, I might not like the clientele, but it’s better than the alternatives?”

“Exactly.” We chose one of the booths along the side. Back to the wall, I stretched out, groaning with relief. Clearly amused by my actions, Devin shrugged out of his suit coat, carefully draping it next to him. He removed his tie and tucked it into a pocket. I could feel his gaze on me, almost erotic in its sudden intensity, his eyes lingering like a starving man in front of a feast. I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way my nipples tightened and a sudden warmth between my legs. Did he have any idea what that look was doing to me?

“Casual Friday?” I teased.

“Trust me, you don’t want to see me in Bermuda shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. I strike people blind,” he shot back.

I tried to picture Devin like that, but my brain refused to cooperate. Instead, it conjured tempting images of unbuttoning his shirt, undoing his belt, finding out if his body was as lean and lithe as I expected. If he had any lingering bruises, I could kiss them all better….

I turned the fantasy into a cough, distracting myself by looking toward the bar. “So. What are the chances of getting some food and drink as long as we’re here?”

“Not bad,” Devin said. “It’s strictly self-serve here, on the honor system. Trust me when I say you don’t want to know how it’s enforced. The owner has a long reach and a short temper, for all that he doesn’t drop by often.” He left the booth for a
moment, returning with a pair of bottles, still ice cold. They were dark and brown, sporting stylized labels from some local microbrew. “Cheers,” he said. And we drank. To a weird night. To chance meetings. To the mutual attraction simmering below the surface of our words. Potent stuff, it tingled on my tongue, charged down my throat, and warmed me inside.

We drank in companionable silence for a while, well into a second round. As my body relaxed, my imagination took the opportunity to run wild. I barely knew Devin, yet he and I had clicked right from the start. I felt right at home in his presence, and I knew right then and there, I’d be a fool to let him get away come the morning. Startled by the way my thoughts were going, I swung out of my seat, steadying myself with a hand on the table. “We need snacks,” I said. “No drinking on an empty stomach.”

His hand wrapped around my wrist, pausing me. Our gazes met. I figured he was going to tell me where the pickled eggs and peanuts were kept. His lips twitched. He moistened his lips with a lightning-quick flick of the tongue. “I—” he said. “I wanted to thank you again. For saving me.” My skin crackled with unspoken desire where he held me.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to reward me,” I said, trying to make light of the wanton desires running rampant within me. I tried to tug free, instead somehow losing my balance. The next thing I knew, I’d tumbled right into his lap, sprawled awkwardly like an overgrown kid visiting Santa at the mall. Devin was warm and solid, and far too close for comfort. He was—oh. He liked having me in his lap, the proof hard and insistent against my bottom. Oh my.

He leaned in, I arched up, and our lips met in the middle. I melted against his chest, draping my arms around his shoulders. We fit together perfectly, just enough space in the seat for me to
happily nestle in his lap. Our mouths teased as a series of light, tentative kisses grew longer, more involved. Devin’s tongue stroked my lips, and I parted them, letting the kiss deepen. His fingers roamed my back, and I arched as he traced the length of my spine. I ran my hands through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp, thrilling at the low sounds of appreciation he made. I wriggled my rear against his crotch, a frisson of delight sweeping through me as I felt his arousal. It had to be painful, trapped like that, but he made no signs of discomfort.

Devin’s hand slid along my waist, teasing apart jeans and shirt, fingers brushing along the rapidly widening strip of bare skin. Goosebumps rose in reaction to the simple yet maddeningly erotic sensation. I didn’t know if I wanted him to go up or down. Yes. And I’d help. A whimper escaped my mouth, swallowed by his. He nipped at my lower lip, and the shock ran all the way to my taut nipples. My shirt was shoved almost to my breasts, cool air on hot flesh. I wanted him. I needed—

There was a clatter from outside, an ominous mixture of loud voices and stomping feet and drunken singing. Like a scalded cat, I jumped out of Devin’s embrace, stumbling as I got to my feet. I tried to smooth my hair and pat my clothing back into place. He’d gone dead white. “Damn it.” I was about to ask him what was wrong when the front door opened amid a terrible racket.

In spilled the Corbie Boys. Not just the five we’d seen earlier but several dozen, a feral assemblage of black-clad villains. They talked and argued among themselves, exchanging obscenities and boasts, and they brought with them a feast: still-steaming roasts and rotisserie chickens, all manner of side dishes and desserts. I didn’t know where they’d found such bounty, but I doubted it was come by politely. My stomach rumbled, threatening to carry over the ruckus. The Corbie Boys were here, and
it was nigh impossible to miss us. Any second now, and—

The first one to spot us choked on his beer in surprise. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed.

One by one, the Corbie Boys stopped in mid-activity, turning to stare in disbelief. Dozens of hostile glares threatened to kill us on the spot. Devin and I exchanged quick looks, wordlessly strategizing in the second we had before we were mobbed and slaughtered. We couldn’t afford to be cornered here. We had to take the initiative. Devin stood to join me, his stance brazenly casual. “Evening, boys,” Devin called. “Nice party you have going on. Room for two more?”

It wasn’t often their prey came to them, and our bold behavior threw them all for a loop. We strolled toward the bar, pushing past one Boy after another, until Devin was able to grab us fresh drinks. Capriciously, I snagged a drumstick as I passed a bucket of chicken.

“Devin Hunt,” growled one man, a burly bald bruiser with cold eyes and an oft-broken nose. “You really got some balls to crash our territory.”

“You know as well as I do that this is common ground, Billy, and your only claim lies in strength of numbers—and potency of body odor,” said Devin, smile wide and cocky. “We were just waiting out the night, and in you came. Go figure.”

Corbies closed in around us, blocking off all escape. Growls chorused from a dozen throats, jackets rustled as hands crept toward weapons. “You got a death wish, Hunt?” Billy shot back.

“Not at all. I just know you don’t understand subtlety.” Devin popped the cap to take a swig. “I figure whatever happens, happens. You have us at your mercy, what harm is there in letting us eat, drink, and be merry for a while?”

The leader’s eyes narrowed into thoughtful slits. Finally, he
bellowed a laugh, slapping Devin on the shoulder. “Fine. You dumb bastards can have your last meal, while we figure out what sort of horrible things we’ll do to you.” He gave me a long, hard look; I shuddered at the hunger in his eyes.

True to their word, the Corbie Boys let us eat and drink our fill for some time, all the while discussing their favorite methods of rape, torture, murder, and mutilation; I’d never even heard of some of what they fancied. They themselves tore into the food with great abandon and appalling manners.

All too soon, they grew restless, our reprieve reaching its end. Devin and I held another silent conversation, his expression telling me all I needed to know: he was out of clever ideas. This one was all on me. I stood. Using two fingers to whistle shrilly, I got their attention. “Gentlemen!” I called. “You’ve all been such wonderful hosts, it’ll be an honor to be brutally killed and molested by you! But before we get to that, I’d like to get a group photograph. Something to commemorate the occasion.” I removed my camera from its case, holding it up. I injected a throaty purr into my voice. “What do you say? A group shot of you fine fellows?”

There was some muttering and shuffling, before Billy nodded. “Yeah, sure. Come on, boys, let’s let the crazy bitch take our picture. Ain’t like it’ll save her.” Clumping up at the bar, they jockeyed for position, making obscene gestures, grabbing their crotches and scowling for the camera.

“Here’s to your health, here’s to ours. May you hold that pose for twenty-four hours,” I said. Click! A blinding light filled the room; when it died away, the Corbie Boys, one and all, were frozen like statues: unblinking, unmoving, unknowing.

Devin, who’d watched me with morbid fascination, stepped over to peer over my shoulder at the picture captured on the camera, then at the unlikely tableau I’d created. “Tanya McCray,
you are full of surprises,” he said with awe. “This beats my idea to steal one of their guns and take Billy hostage.” His breath tickled the back of my neck, a shiver of need dancing down my spine. That close to me, he was all male, and my body responded.

I blushed. “What can I say, I’ve learned some interesting things in my travels. It’s a variation on an old family trick, passed down through the generations. Legend has it one of my distant ancestors was a German soldier, who won the secret of freezing people from a beggar woman or angry dwarf or the Devil.”

To his credit, Devin didn’t even bat an eyelash. “How long will they stay that way?”

“For a day and a night, unless I choose to release them first.” I eyed the grotesque bunch. “I’m not inclined to break it early.”

Devin chuckled, still close, and I wanted to lean back into his arms. “You’re something else, Tanya. You charge into trouble with a banshee’s wail, face down hostile gangs, and shrug it off as nothing special. What will you do for an encore, slay a dragon?”

I turned to face him, throwing caution to the wind. As the potential danger faded, my body’s urges left me charged and restless. “I’ll claim my reward for saving your ass not once, but twice,” I said, before kissing him, eager to pick up where we’d left off earlier.

Eventually, we broke apart to catch our breath. My skin was hot, a furious flush contrasting its normal paleness, and my lips tingled with excitement. Devin’s eyes blazed with hunger; he looked rumpled for the first time all night. We knew what we both wanted. Unfortunately, there was no way we could do it here, not with the Corbie Boys present if oblivious.

We considered covering them with a tablecloth, but that solution didn’t thrill us. So we went exploring into the depths of the building. Kitchen, too cramped and messy. Stockroom, too dark and dubious. Then we found what had to be a guest room,
a sparsely appointed affair containing little more than a bed and nightstand. “Wish we’d known about this earlier,” I said, wistfully thinking of the time we’d already wasted.