[Southern Arcana 2.0] Crossroads (3 page)
We’re being kicked out.”
“What?” Kat let Andrew nudge her out of the booth, but she swayed a little when he urged her to stand. “Oh, are they going to make out? Thank God. Finally. Let’s go.” Nick could
hear
Derek grinding his teeth. “You better leave with Andrew, Kat, because if I take you home, I’m dunking you under a cold shower.”
“Bah. You’re no fun.” Kat looped her other arm around Andrew’s neck and beamed up at him.
“Andrew will take me home.”
“God help him,” Derek muttered too softly for them to hear.
Nick unlocked the door, and Andrew led Kat outside. The street was still fairly crowded, and she imagined they’d have no problem grabbing a taxi without calling one. She cleared her throat and looked at Derek, who still sat in the booth. “Do you want another beer? Or I could make some coffee…” He tilted his head. “Come sit down, Nick. We need to talk, since my drunk-ass cousin screwed up my careful plans.”
14
Crossroads
She secured the door again and slid into the booth opposite him. “She’s wasted, Derek. I own a
bar
. I know better than to listen to drunken ranting. It’s okay.”
He snorted. “She’s a drunk psychic, Nick. She understands more about what’s going on in my head than I do.”
He didn’t seem to want to take the graceful exit she’d offered, so she reached over, retrieved her shot glass and raised an eyebrow at him as she slowly refilled it. “Does that mean you want to go to New York with me?”
“Well, it wasn’t in my plans since I didn’t
know
about it.” He grinned, righted Kat’s glass and pushed it toward Nick. “Besides, I was more thinking about asking you out on a date before we went on vacation together.”
She bit her lip and filled his glass with the amber liquid as well. “Could have fooled me, Gabriel. All you’ve done lately is glare at me.”
“Yeah.” He closed his eyes and exhaled on a sigh. “I…was pissed at you. Only I didn’t have any right to be, so I was pissed at myself too.”
She pushed the shot toward him until it nudged his hand. “Why were you angry with me? What did I do?”
What did I
not
do?
Derek’s strong fingers curled around the glass. He lifted it to his lips and tossed it back without opening his eyes, giving her a glimpse of the strong column of his throat as he swallowed. The glass hit the table with a hollow
thud
, and he finally looked at her again. “You went charging into danger. You went on a suicidal rescue mission, and I had to find out about it from
Kat
. I have no right to be angry that you didn’t tell me. But every time I think about it, every weird, freaky instinct inside me flips the fuck out.” Nick froze with her glass halfway to her mouth and stared at him. It was a common reaction, a purely animal response to instinct. Which meant he considered her, at least on some level, to be under his protection. “What do you think about that?” she whispered. “Rationally, I mean?”
“There’s nothing rational about it. But the human in me says I should have asked you out already, and then I wouldn’t be fighting with myself over whether or not you’re mine.”
Mine.
She couldn’t breathe, much less drink more, so she lowered the shot of tequila and studied the planes of Derek’s face. She knew every inch of it already, every dimple and expression, a knowledge borne of countless hours of desire. Of yearning. The words escaped before she could stop them. “Will you come upstairs with me?”
He wanted to; there was no mistaking the desire. He groaned and slid his hands over to cover hers.
“God, Nick, don’t tempt me. I’ve been trying far too hard not to screw this up, and right now I don’t think jumping into bed with tequila as a third wheel is the way to go. But…if you don’t need to go to New York right away, maybe a date? Dinner, at least. Someplace without nosy shapeshifters and obnoxious psychic cousins.”
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15
Moira Rogers
Her heart thumped. “Do those places exist in New Orleans?”
“I’ll find one.” He smiled at her. “It’d be worth it.”
She hoped he couldn’t feel her trembling, though she knew better. “We could always order in.” He licked his lips, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. “Okay. I’m going to get up and leave, and I’m going to call you when we’re both sober. Because that’s the responsible thing to do.” Nick wasn’t drunk, and she’d be willing to bet Derek wasn’t, either. “Do you have my number?”
“I think so.” He flashed her another of those quick, nervous smiles and eased out of the booth. “Either way, I can find it. Especially since Kat and Andrew are probably spray painting it across the side of my truck right now as a subtle hint.”
“Only if they couldn’t find a skywriter this time of night.” She followed him to the door, trying not to stare at the broad expanse of his back.
He turned and nodded awkwardly when he reached the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Nick. Count on it.”
She tried in vain to think of something witty to say. “Have a good night, Derek. I’ll talk to you soon.” He leaned down, his breath warm against her skin as he brushed his lips over her cheek in a soft, barely there kiss. Nick reacted without thought, turning her head until her mouth touched the corner of his.
The world tilted as her feet left the ground. She heard Derek’s low, desperate growl as her back hit the wall, just a second before his mouth covered hers.
She’d been dreaming of it for the better part of a year—longer, if she was going to be honest with herself—and shock still thrummed in her veins, making her heart jump. Then the surprise faded, replaced by animal satisfaction. His taste and scent filled her senses as his tongue twined with hers, and she drove her fingers into his hair and held on.
One large hand landed on her hip and slid down, coaxing her leg up and around his waist. His hips ground against hers as he groaned and bit her lower lip in a purely possessive gesture.
Nick locked her legs around him and met the next thrust of his hips with a frantic arch of her body.
“Derek.”
Mine.
The word echoed in her head as she urged his head back and trailed a hot line of kisses over his jaw and neck. She whispered his name again and bit him.
His hand crashed into the wall next to her head hard enough to send a framed picture crashing to the floor. “Fuck. Nick, I’m losing it…” His voice sounded lost in the boundary between lust and terror. A growl rumbled up through his chest and tore free of his throat and, when he spoke again, he sounded scared. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You wouldn’t hurt me.” Her denial was instant, automatic. Then the full meaning of his words hit her, and she froze. “Oh, God.” She laid her hand on his face. “You haven’t had sex since the attack.”
“No. Shit, I’m not—” He drew in a breath, and his cheek heated under her hand. “It’s not
that
bad.
But I haven’t had a lot of it, and not with anyone I really… Not with anyone—” He groaned and squeezed 16
Crossroads
his eyes shut. “Please tell me you understand all that complicated shit Alec explained to me about the hormones and the instincts and temporary insanity?”
It had never seemed all that complicated to Nick. Then again, it was the only thing she’d ever known.
“Physical chemistry is amplified. A strong enough attraction can make it hard to control desire.” God knew she was having a hard enough time with it, though she’d had a lifetime of practice. “It could be fast, maybe, the first few times, but… You won’t
hurt
me, Derek. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“God, I know. My manly pride stings a little at the idea of crappy sex. I sort of wanted to impress you.”
Nick arched an eyebrow at him. “Who said anything about crappy sex? Fast doesn’t equal crappy, not when it’s—” She broke off and looked down. “They write poetry about it, you know. About that moment where you can’t stop, and nothing else matters. When someone could be holding a knife to your throat and you wouldn’t notice, because every single part of you is focused on—” She found herself staring at the pulse throbbing at the base of his throat, and a quiet growl rose. “We— If we wait—” He swallowed. “Is this why all the myths talk about werewolves mating for life?”
“Part of it.” She lowered her hands to his shoulders and tried to ignore the strong flex of muscle under her fingers. “It’s supposed to be very…affecting.”
“Supposed to be?” He narrowed his eyes. “I really hope that doesn’t mean I’m the only one feeling this, or I’m going to go away now, and possibly die.”
Nick stared at him for a moment, surprise stealing her voice. “It doesn’t work if it’s one-sided. Not like this.”
His breath left him in a whoosh. “Oh, thank God.”
Then he kissed her again.
A fresh wave of need crested inside her, sweeping away rational thought. She moaned into Derek’s mouth and pulled at his shirt, desperate to feel him. The fabric tugged free of his pants, and she slipped her hands under it, moaning again when she encountered the heat of his bare skin.
She tried to work the shirt higher, but he didn’t relinquish her mouth. He tilted his head to the side and deepened the kiss, and she started to think he might
never
stop.
It took someone pounding on the glass door a foot away from their heads to tear them apart. Derek lifted his head with a rough curse that cut off with a strangled noise. He jerked his gaze back to her face, his expression wild. “Uh, I hope your sister is an identical twin, because someone who looks exactly like you is standing outside with the tallest man I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“What?” The fog of pleasure in Nick’s head lifted, and she turned her head as she pushed at Derek’s chest. “Michelle?”
He stepped back and lowered her to the ground. “I guess so.”
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17
Moira Rogers
Her sister barely looked like herself. Instead of her usual immaculate suit, she wore sweatpants and a rumpled T-shirt, and her normally well-groomed hair had been jerked into a haphazard ponytail. Her face was pale and drawn, exhausted. Even Aaron seemed uncharacteristically grave, with tight lines around his eyes and mouth.
Nick rushed to the door and unlocked the deadbolt with a frightened jerk. “Micky? What the hell are you doing here?”
She stumbled over the threshold. “The Conclave’s issued an order for Aaron’s execution.” Nick caught her and rocked a little as she met Aaron’s steady, resigned gaze. “Why? What the fuck is going on?”
“I’m pregnant.” Michelle let the blunt words hang between them for two short heartbeats before she burst into tears.
18
Chapter Three
Derek could have made a graceful exit while Nick’s sister sobbed. Nick gave him several opportunities, but he balked at leaving. It could have been because Aaron and Nick kept exchanging tense, worried gazes that screamed danger, or because the girl in hysterical tears looked almost exactly like Nick.
He got water instead, pulling a chilled bottle from the fridge behind the bar before catching Nick’s gaze. He nodded toward Aaron, then the bottle of tequila, one eyebrow raised in silent question.
Nick shook her head and framed her sister’s face between her hands. “Sweetie, just breathe. Breathe, okay? You’re here, and you’re safe, and all three of you are going to stay that way.” As she spoke, she lowered one hand to Michelle’s stomach. “I swear it, Micky. All of you.” Michelle shuddered, and magic twisted through the room so fast and intense that the water bottle slipped through Derek’s fingers. The deadbolt on the door slid shut with a clatter and all of the lights went off. A moment later the streetlights dimmed. He turned to the windows and blinked stupidly at the frosted glass that had replaced Nick’s usual dual-paned windows.
A wail jerked his attention back to Michelle, who was actually
glowing
. The gentle light faded as she closed her eyes and curled her hands into fists. “That’s the other problem. I haven’t had very good control since it happened. The Conclave thinks I lost my powers because of that stupid myth, but if they find out the truth, they’re going to kill
me
too.”
Nick scoffed and shook her head again. When she spoke, her voice was quiet and serious. “They’ll have to snatch you over my dead body, sweetie.”
The fact that she meant every word made Derek’s heart catch. He fought back that same protective rage that had been choking him over the past weeks and snatched the bottle of water from the floor.
“Should I call someone? Alec or Jackson? They both owe you.”
“Jackson’s hurt, and his mother is—” She looked up at him and bit off the rest of her words with a soft curse. “Their cell numbers are on the corkboard in the office. Can you call them and ask them to meet us upstairs?”
“Yeah. Sure.” He tried to smile to reassure her, but it felt flat. “Anything else?” She scooted her stool closer to Michelle’s. “Have you eaten lately, Micky?” It was apparently the wrong question to ask. Michelle groaned and paled even more. “Aaron keeps forcing food on me every hour.”
Aaron growled softly. “Because you keep throwing it up.”
Moira Rogers
“Because I’m pregnant and
terrified
.”
“Which makes it more important to eat, not less.”
Derek cleared his throat. “You’ve got some tea back there, don’t you, Nick? Kat’s always drinking it when she’s here. I can find some of that.”
“The decaf stuff. Thanks, Derek.” She glanced at him again. “And some pretzels, I think. From the pantry.”
“Pretzels and tea. Got it.” He fought the urge to ask if she’d be okay going upstairs on her own. It would be insulting, considering Nick could probably command her shapeshifter strength better than he could. Then there was Aaron, whose bulk dwarfed them all. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.” She murmured something unintelligible, her attention already back on Michelle.
He faintly heard their fading voices as he strode into the kitchen and squinted at the wall until he found a light switch. He flicked it up and down, but nothing happened, so he gave thanks to his enhanced senses and picked his way across the kitchen to the office on the far side.
