Through a Crimson Veil (4 page)

His hands immediately stopped kneading her rear, and Mika pulled free. She ignored his cursing and walked a few steps away. McCabe grabbed her, tugged her back, and put her in a bear hug. It was supposed to be a method of restraint, but the feel of him against her bottom made Mika wriggle. His hold tightened, forcing her to still, but not before she felt his body begin to react to hers. She turned and ran her hands up his chest.

“Are you trying to convince me to protect you by offering me your body?” he asked.

It was meant to be an insult, there was no doubt about that, but she wasn’t prostituting herself and Conor knew it. He’d said that to make her mad; he wanted her to storm off in a snit, then he wouldn’t have to deal with her. Too bad for him that she knew what he was up to, and Mika refused to let him push her buttons.

“No, but I might offer you my body for other reasons,” she answered easily.

Turning her head, she snuggled into his shoulder and nipped at the pulse point in his throat, then ran her tongue
over it. She couldn’t have chosen a worse action if she’d planned it—not if her goal was to stay close to Conor Mc-Cabe. He released her so fast, Mika staggered to catch her balance.

Damn it, why did she have this need to always push? She knew he didn’t want to want her, that if she had any hope of him agreeing to her scheme, she had to do everything she could to play down the overwhelming physical attraction flaring between them. But was that what she’d done? Hell, no. She’d
maximized
his awareness of her. How stupid.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and tried to sound contrite. “Let’s start over, shall we?” He pivoted to face her, and she could sense his reluctance.
Be businesslike,
she told herself. “Conor McCabe, I’m Mika Noguchi.” She took a few steps toward him, arm outstretched. For a moment, she didn’t think he was going to take her hand, but he surprised her. The shake, however, was perfunctory. “I’d like to hire you to protect me, and to slay the demon that’s trying to kill me,” she said.

He tucked his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “I don’t work cheap,” he warned her.

She knew she had him then. McCabe might not realize it yet, but they were now negotiating price. Mika managed to keep her satisfaction in check. “That’s okay. I don’t value my life cheaply.” With a shrug she added, “And I can afford you.”

“Can you afford
this?
” He named a price that made her eyes bug out. “That’s per day,” Conor added.

“That’s outrageous!”

“So? Usually I only kill demons. You’re going to have to pay for my time if you want around-the-clock baby-sitting.”

Mika reined in her temper. She made a counterproposal, offering a fraction of what he’d suggested.

“Is that a joke?” He shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t know why we’re discussing money anyway. I don’t want the work.” He started to walk away.

“You thought if you threw out that ridiculous figure that
I’d tell you to forget it? Well, think again, McCabe.” She closed the distance until she was toe-to-toe with him. “I want you.” When he tensed, she realized her wording. “I mean, I want your skills as a hunter,” she amended.

He didn’t respond.

“Would you really trust my life to someone else?” she asked.

“What do I care about your life? You’re a demon.”

“Half demon,” she corrected. “And half human.” The flash of anger she felt seeped away and humor returned as she realized he was grumbling more for appearances sake than for any other reason. She upped her offer.

He countered, tacitly admitting he was taking the job. They went back and forth until they agreed to a figure that was about midway between their opening proposals. It wasn’t that the cost was important—her dad had plenty of money and was extravagantly generous—but if she didn’t dicker over such an exorbitant amount, he’d become even more suspicious.

Their next argument was over what, precisely, his job would entail. She couldn’t give in on this; he had to put her up in his home. Mika needed access to his things in order to find and retrieve the incantation the Council believed he had. That was the plan.

Reaching an accord was easier than she expected, once she agreed to obey his orders without discussion. Unless what she had to say was critical; she tacked that on.

“Deal.” McCabe held out a hand.

“Take off your glasses,” she ordered.

“Why?”

“Two rules. First, when I make an agreement, I always know
exactly
what I’m giving and what I’m getting in exchange. We took care of that. Second, I never seal a bargain if I can’t see the eyes. My mother told me if I followed both these principles, I’d never be rooked when dealing with a demon. And, Conor? You have as much demon blood as I do. I’ll see your eyes before I shake.”

Reluctantly, he pulled the sunglasses off his face. His irises were the color of celery, a pale green shade that wasn’t human.

Demon eyes.

McCabe’s palm was warm and calloused, his grip firm but not overpowering. The handshake lingered, giving them both a chance to measure the sincerity of the other. In Mika’s experience, those with demon blood would die before going back on their word, but not only would they use any shade of gray to their advantage, they’d also try to fool any other party into thinking they were making a promise when they really weren’t. That was why eye contact with McCabe was so important. What she saw reassured her, and she felt confident the bargain was sealed.

It was only then that Mika dared to peer deeper. Her knees buckled, but she quickly locked them. He
was
her vishtau mate. She actually had a mate. Part of her was scared; it was a momentous discovery, a life-altering event. But another part of her wanted to throw her head back and laugh in sheer joy over their connection. It was one thing to suspect, to hope, but something else entirely to be certain.

When he tried to pull his hand free, she tightened her grip before reluctantly releasing him. For a few seconds after they broke the connection, they continued to stare at
each other, then McCabe tucked his sunglasses into the pocket on his T-shirt and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

“You’re not putting those back on?” she asked.

“And sacrifice my superior night vision while protecting you from a Kiverian? Not a chance.” He took her elbow and steered her down the sidewalk.

“Wait!”

“Oh, hell. What now?”

Mika rested her hands on her hips, unsure whether she was irritated by his tone or amused by it. “We should check where our watcher was standing, see if he left any clues.”

McCabe’s sigh was loud and long. “Listen,” he said, his voice tight. “You wanted protection. The most important thing is to get you off the street. You’ll be safe in my home. Besides, we don’t know precisely where the hell he was, and we’re not going to take time to canvass the area.”

His first point was valid and hard to argue with if she really were being hunted by another demon, so she addressed his second point. “I have a fairly accurate idea where he was. We could just stroll by and see if we notice anything.”

“This is how you’re going to follow my orders?” The soft glow of McCabe’s eyes showed he was angry.

“I promised I wouldn’t argue unless it was critical.” Mika moved closer, tilting her face up to give him the full effect of her glare. “Finding out who was observing us might be that important.”
Duh,
she wanted to add.

“Fine.” His voice was clipped. “If that’s what it takes to get you out of this damn light, then we’ll detour in that direction.” McCabe leaned forward till his nose nearly bumped hers. “But if you think you’re going to continually use that loophole to wriggle out of your promise, you better think again.”

“I won’t
continually
use it.” Mika gave him her nicest smile. “I swear.”

The glow in his eyes brightened, but McCabe took deep breaths until they dimmed. “That assurance has a hole big enough to fly a 747 through, but I’m not going to fight you out here. Come on.”

Silence and cooperation were her best options right now, Mika decided, moving when he did. And maybe by the time they were somewhere he considered safer, McCabe would have forgotten about her dodge. She cast a sidelong glance at him and noted the tension in his jaw. Or maybe not.

As they neared the place where the watcher had been, Conor hung back and let her lead. It was logical, as she knew where they were headed and he didn’t, but still it gave her a moment of surprise. Everything till now had indicated he had trouble giving up control.

They were across the street and maybe fifty feet away, when she gestured toward a wide gap between two buildings and said, “That’s the spot.”

Despite how large the area was, despite the light coming from the moon, and despite her excellent eyesight, the shadows there remained impenetrable—far darker than they should be. Eerie. A shiver slid down her spine. Mika hesitated, stopped. Her stomach roiled at the very idea of going any closer, and McCabe wasn’t moving either.

Something was wrong, but she couldn’t name what. Clenching her hands, she pushed forward, but as she took a step, Conor grabbed her arm and drew her back. “Don’t,” he said.

Mentally, she reached out and probed the area. It felt as if a billion spiders were crawling inside her skull. She quickly pulled back. Nausea welled up inside her, and Mika swallowed hard. She wouldn’t attempt that again. “Do you know what it is?” she asked.

He didn’t answer. As she started to edge away from him, he tugged her to his side. “Yeah, I know,” he said. His face was grim. “It’s a trap—one created by a demon. We need to get out of here, and don’t argue with me about it.”

Without giving her a chance to disagree, he hauled her down the street. He needn’t have worried; as dark and repugnant as that area had been, she wasn’t about to voice any objections.

Conor was alert, intense, and Mika kept close watch on their surroundings as well. If that had truly been a trap, whoever set it was probably nearby, waiting. There was no doubt in her mind that it had been meant for them, and from the expression on McCabe’s face, he thought so too.

But had it been meant for both of them? Or just one?

Mika considered, as they sped along the deserted streets. Orcus didn’t have a cohesive, democratic government. Power was maintained through fear, intimidation, bribery and favors—and there was always some faction that opposed a decision the Council made. No doubt this particular mission had incited more than the usual controversy among those who knew of it.

But then, the legend itself was a bone of contention.

She glanced over at McCabe. “You’re lucky I’m half Mahsei,” she remarked, smothering a smile. “No human could keep up with you—not at the speed you’re going.”

He immediately slowed. “Sorry. I wanted us out of the area as quickly as possible.”

The apology startled her. It was the last thing she’d expected, she’d just wanted to remind him of his heritage. “I wasn’t complaining. If you think we need to move fast, we’ll move fast. I
can
keep up with you.”

He shook his head. “No, we’ve traveled far enough that we’re okay.” He turned and looked at her. “You realize the trap ups the stakes considerably,” he added.

“You’re not going to ask for more money, are you?” She tried to sound worried, but she couldn’t keep a teasing note from her voice.

He drew to a halt and took her shoulders. “Be serious. That snare was set by a very ugly demon—you know that, right?”

She didn’t. “I know the energy was repulsive, but I’ve
never encountered anything like it before. What do you think—”

He gave her a soft squeeze, looking uncomfortable. “Come on, let’s move. I don’t want to stand here analyzing.”

McCabe didn’t take her elbow this time, so with a small tilt to her lips, she threaded her arm through his. When he stiffened, she put a questioning look on her face. He simply shook his head and kept going, and her smile became full-fledged. Her vishtau mate would get used to her yet.

As they traveled, Mika looked around. Conor hadn’t cloaked, so she hadn’t bothered to either, but it didn’t really matter. While this neighborhood was slightly better than the other—there were bars on the windows instead of plywood—the streets remained empty.

As they zigged around an open trash bag lying on the sidewalk, a thought occurred to Mika. “When you set a trap, you bait it and try to lure in your prey, but neither of us wanted to go forward. Since they were hoping to catch at least one of us, why wasn’t it appealing?”

“The trap was baited,” McCabe disagreed. “I think you didn’t sense it because whatever repelled you was stronger than the lure they created, but it was geared for one of us.”

There was a figure huddled in a doorway, the first person Mika had seen in a while, but he was out cold and didn’t stir as they passed. Just in case, she waited till she and Conor were farther away before continuing.

“How could anyone be sure where we were going to be tonight?” she asked. “I didn’t know where I was going; I was merely following you. You didn’t seem headed for a particular destination either.”

Three young male figures—their energy patterns told Mika they were werewolves—separated from the shadows of a rundown building, but one hard look from McCabe, red fire burning in his eyes, and they slunk away. Mika laughed quietly. There were definitely perks to having demon blood.

“You’re assuming it takes a long time to erect one of
those things,” he said when it was clear again. “You’re believing that…” He drifted off into silence.

“What are you thinking?” Mika asked.

He didn’t answer.

“Well?” she prompted.

“How close are you to your family?”

“What? Why are you asking that?” He shot her a look, and Mika rolled her eyes before she answered. “Very close. Now, tell me why you want to know that.”

“Mika,” Conor said, his voice serious, “that trap was meant for you. There was an energy signature inside, and my guess is that it matches someone in your family. It fit yours very closely. Whoever’s after you was counting on you charging to the rescue. Is that something you would do?”

She frowned at him and gripped his arm. Hard. “It was faked, right? No one was really there, were they?”

“No, no one was inside, I promise.”

Mika relaxed. If Conor gave his word, then no one in her family was in trouble.

“So, you couldn’t read the snare’s energy.” He sounded grim.

She shook her head.

“I’ve never felt anything that evil before,” he told her. “Ever. You’ve got something a hell of a lot more dangerous than a Kiverian after you.”

Mika felt a chill. This explained the soberness of his voice. As she’d sensed, McCabe was half Kiverian himself—so he’d know that energy and wouldn’t misread it. There were only three breeds of demon that were darker, more prone to violence and gifted with power, and at the top of that list was a group to inspire nightmares. And not just among humans. This wasn’t good. Not if that trap really had been for her.

“What happened to the demons you saw caught in the snare?” she asked. She wasn’t certain she wanted to hear, but she’d better know. Just in case.

“I’m not sure. There was never anything left.” He cast
her a sideways glance. “Whatever happened, though, caused a hell of a lot of screaming—and it lasted for a long, long time.”

He never should have taken this job. From the minute he’d felt this demoness half-breed trailing him, Conor had known she was trouble. He’d been right. Her energy now seemed to burst through his small house, filling every inch of the place with her essence.

She was unpacking in his bedroom, stowing her things in the drawer he’d cleared out for her. Judging by the weight of the suitcase he’d pulled from the trunk of her car, she’d be at it for a while. His position in the great room gave him the perfect angle and he could see her every time she went past the door. He found himself waiting for those moments, anticipating them. Hell. With a scowl, he swung his chair back to the computer console and typed
Mahsei
into the search engine.

No results. None related to demons anyway. Of course, humans didn’t always use the same terminology as the inhabitants of Orcus, and while he hadn’t heard of this group before, he knew where Mika’s type ranked as far as strength went; her energy sig gave it away. He put the Mahsei in the bottom twenty-five percent, but probably on the upper end of that spread since he’d felt her try to control the wind. Power and malevolence seemed to go hand-inhand with demons, so he doubted she was a danger to him—not magically at least.

After casting a glance toward the bedroom, he typed in
Mika Noguchi
. It was another dead end, unless his houseguest was an Asian women’s wrestling champ—though the idea of her pinning him down had Conor shifting in his chair. He’d always been able to master his sexual urges, but with Mika, he was hanging on by his fingertips. Every instinct he had was clamoring to throw her on the bed and claim her. She’d be willing, he knew.

He shook his head, denying his thoughts. She was a
demon—he couldn’t want her. But he did, and it wasn’t simply lust she inspired. Since he’d met her, he’d felt frustrated and protective. He couldn’t afford either. The only way he could maintain control of his Kiverian side was to not allow himself any strong emotion; he’d learned that long ago. He had to stop reacting to her, had to rein himself in. If he lost too much self-command, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to cage his demon half again.

The task wasn’t going to be easy. Mika enjoyed forcing a response from him—she pushed until she got one—and she wasn’t particular about what emotion she triggered. It seemed anger satisfied her as much as anything else.

The memory of their previous interaction was seductive. His fury hadn’t frightened her, not even a bit. She’d wrapped her arms around him and smiled. Conor scrubbed both hands down his face. He’d liked that. A lot. Never before had anyone seen his rage and not been scared. Even his mother—

He cut that thought off.

The volume on the radio in his bedroom became louder, and he heard Mika start singing along. Her voice was good, clear and on-key. His body responded as if she were caressing it.

Conor swallowed a curse and pushed out of his chair. A sometimes freelance agent for Los Angeles Battlefield Ops, an intelligence agency founded to keep tabs on the city’s paranormal populations and to keep them in line, he worked out of his home—at least as much as possible. To make things easy, he had set up a makeshift office in a corner of his great room, and the bookcase was maybe three steps from his desk.

About half of his reference materials covered vampires and werewolves—his jobs were often to hunt down badass outlaws of those two species—but the other half was about demons. That was his personal interest. Scanning titles, he searched for a volume that would include the widest number
of breeds from Orcus, pulled it off the shelf and returned to his desk chair.

Mika danced past the doorway, hips swaying as she slipped something onto a hanger, and his hands clenched around his book. His body howled with need. Her black pants fit her like a second skin, and the sleeveless black top wasn’t much looser—the view was riveting. He didn’t look away until she moved out of sight.