Through a Crimson Veil (8 page)

What was she going to do? Tonight Conor would want to go off on his own again, to look for the demon that was supposed to be after her, and that might cost him his life. She couldn’t expect him to stay in his house indefinitely. It wasn’t in his nature to hide. He was a warrior, a man who would always confront a threat, not cower from it.

Mika reached out a hand, resting her palm on the empty mattress beside her. She needed Conor close, needed to touch him, and it had nothing to do with sex. This came from her soul.

She heard him shift again, mutter some obscenities about the sofa and make a low growling sound. His bed was king-sized and there was plenty of room, but he wouldn’t join her. Not today. She struggled against the pull, against the overwhelming loneliness, but Mika conceded the battle after a few more minutes.

Tossing back the covers, she slipped out of bed and went to him. As soon as she entered the darkened great room, his gaze locked on her. She stopped when she reached the couch and looked down. Conor lay on his right side, his knees bent as he tried to fit in the too-small space. All he wore was a pair of shorts, and she took a minute to admire his muscled chest and ripped abs. The man clearly made use of his weight-lifting equipment on a regular basis. His eyes were glowing when she glanced up again.

“Did you have to come out here in that?” he asked.

Mika looked down, and her cheeks heated. She’d forgotten
she was wearing the green panties he’d had in his hands earlier, and along with them, she’d put on a matching camisole that dipped low between her breasts. There were a variety of responses she could make to his question, but none of them felt right. She wasn’t desiring to spar with or to tease him. “Move over,” she said softly, and was surprised when he did.

She settled beside Conor, her back to his front, and the tautness inside her eased. And when his left arm went around her waist, anchoring her snugly against him, Mika experienced something oddly close to contentment. This seemed…
right.

They were very different people. Conor was serious, she often wasn’t—many had called her flighty, although Mika didn’t agree. Conor came from one of the darkest groups of demons, she from among the most carefree. But the biggest obstacle to their vishtau bond would be his black and white view of the world, and the lies she’d told.

She was brooding about that, her hand lightly resting atop his, when Conor asked, “You were born in Orcus, weren’t you?”

“Yes, born and half raised.”

“Half?”

Mika felt the heat of his breath against her neck and she took a second to enjoy it before she answered. “I spent equal time with my dad. An informal joint-custody thing.”

“Why didn’t you tell your mother that you’d rather stay in the human world?”

For a moment she hesitated, but Mika decided to answer honestly. “Because I didn’t want to stay here. If I didn’t love my dad, my grandma Noguchi and my other relatives, I would have happily remained in Orcus. And although I still spend time here, it’s the Other World where I feel most comfortable.”

He stiffened. “I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s my home.” She didn’t want to get too deeply into it, but despite the fact that she didn’t fit in anywhere, she
could be herself in the Other World. Though she was largely shunned there, she at least understood why. She was from a weaker branch of demon and had been made less by the genes she’d gotten from her father. The cruelty of the human children had been far more difficult to comprehend. Her only sin seemed to be that she was different, and in their eyes, all differences were bad.

“I guess a person can get used to anything if they grow up with it,” Conor said. He shifted, but the short couch gave him almost no way to relieve his cramped muscles, and her presence didn’t help.

“There are good and bad things about every place,” she said with equanimity. “Do you think Crimson City is a paradise? If it was, you’d be out of a job.”

His only response was a grunt. Mika swallowed a laugh. McCabe was damn stubborn. She ran her hand up and down his forearm. “Come on, admit it,” she coaxed softly.

His arm tensed under her fingers and he said, “You’re going back to Orcus then, after this is finished?”

Mika nearly told him that of course she was returning home, but closed her mouth without speaking. What if Conor didn’t despise her at the end of this? He was her vishtau mate, half Kiverian, and he could never live in the Other World. He’d slain demons merely for roaming the streets here, and that wouldn’t be well-received. Even if that remained secret, his hatred of demons was so ingrained, it would take years to overcome.

“I’m not sure,” she hedged. “I can be happy here too, but it would depend on a few things.” Since she didn’t want him to ask what those things were, Mika kept talking. “I’ll always have ties to Orcus, though. My mom, and gran, and brother are there.”

“You have a brother?” He sounded shocked.

“Half brother,” she corrected easily. “Our mom was mated to his father before she met mine. We’re pretty
close, considering he was nearly twenty when I came along and we didn’t grow up together. His dad was Grolird—that’s the second darkest of the demon branches—and Nic’s always been protective of me.” She couldn’t contain a laugh at the thought. “Other demons have no clue how to respond to him. He has the bite of his father and the sense of fun of the Mahsei. It confuses almost everyone.”

“Why isn’t he protecting you from the Kiverian then?” Conor asked.

It took all of Mika’s will to keep her body from becoming rigid. Damn, for a second, she’d forgotten about her story. Conor was her mate; she didn’t want to add more untruths to their relationship, but what the hell could she say?

“Nic doesn’t know about this,” she said,
this
being her mission for the Council—“and I’d like to keep it that way.” Oh, yeah, would she ever. Nic would chew her out for even agreeing to undertake the job, but she’d had to protect the man she’d thought her vishtau mate no matter what.

“Why?” There was a note of suspicion in Conor’s voice.

Mika had to be careful. “For much of my life, I’ve run to my brother to fight my battles when they became too tough for me. I’m tired of that, McCabe. Maybe you think it’s stupid—what difference does it make if you fight for me or Nic does—but I hired you. And I’m giving you something in return.”

He exhaled long and hard, his breath tickling her ear. “I think I understand. You feel like a burden.”

She nodded, if hesitantly. “Sometimes. I don’t go to Nic often, and haven’t since I reached my teens. I’d rather take care of things on my own.”

She wanted him off this line of questioning. When he’d quizzed her yesterday about the Kiverian that was supposedly after her, she’d used her body to derail him, but if she pulled that again, he might suspect. She needed an alternate plan.

Stoke his temper.
Mika smiled. That would work, and
when it came to infuriating Conor, she was the world champion.

“Of course,” she said with exaggerated patience, “you’d never understand how I feel.”

“Why the hell wouldn’t I?”

No doubt he thought she’d blame it on his being male, but that wasn’t a hot button for him. “Because you’re Kiverian,” she said instead.

She felt the rumble in his chest, but she couldn’t hear it. He wasn’t quite mad enough. She needed to torque him up another notch or two. “After all,” she continued blithely, “you’re from such a dark branch of demon, you must be the biggest badass in Crimson City. You can take down vampires and werewolves without difficulty, no human would dare challenge you, and even other demons are going to be careful. How could you know what it’s like to be powerless?”

“I am not a demon,” he snarled. His voice was hard, dangerous.

And she had ignition. Mika guessed she couldn’t take full credit for getting McCabe angry so fast, not with the frustrated sexual tension brewing between them. But the whys didn’t matter. The important thing was that Conor had stopped questioning her.

“Demon traits are dominant. The scientific claim could be made that you’re more Kiverian than human.”

His growl only proved her argument. Only a demon male could manage to produce that noise. Mika, however, wasn’t about to point that out. “Sorry,” she apologized, “I’m touchy about being weak, because some alliances in Orcus leave the lesser demon little more than a serf.”

He firmed his hold on her. “You don’t have to worry about that, honey. I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen to you.”

Mika froze at the endearment and her heart stuttered. Then guilt overwhelmed her. She’d been lying, searching his house, was prepared to steal the incantation when she
found it, and here he was telling her he’d keep her safe—not merely from the fictitious demon for which she’d hired him, but from others as well. And after she’d deliberately enraged him. She couldn’t speak around the lump in her throat. Taking his hand from her stomach, she brought it to her lips and pressed a kiss in his palm. It was the best she could do to convey how much his offer meant to her.

When she released him, he rested his hand below her collarbone, his fingers spread above the swell of her breasts. Conor’s heat warmed her heart and her eyes drifted closed as she immersed herself in him, in the essence of his being.

It wouldn’t last, but she decided not to worry about that. Not today. Conor had his arms around her, his body at her back, and she felt as if she’d finally found somewhere that she belonged. It was more than she’d expected.

And for right now, Mika decided it was enough.

It was the muttered curse that woke her. Mika blinked and took a minute to orient herself. “Conor? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, go back to sleep.”

His gruffness told her it wasn’t nothing, and she forced some of her drowsiness aside. Somehow, while she’d been sleeping, she’d ended up sprawled atop him. She suspected he was responsible for that. As narrow as the couch was, Mika didn’t think she could have moved on her own without falling to the floor. His heart raced beneath her cheek, and for a moment, she let herself be lulled by its rhythm.

It wasn’t until she shifted that she realized he was aroused and that her body was perfectly aligned to feel every inch of him. Since she herself felt all tingly, she figured they must have been in this position for a while. Involuntarily the muscles in her legs tightened, sliding her pelvis against him. Conor made a choking noise, and Mika gasped as his erection found a strategic groove.

Surrendering to desire, she turned her face and bit his chest. His reaction was immediate. His hands went to her bottom, and he rocked her against him. Her panties were damp and so were his shorts; she could feel it as he pushed
against her cleft. She wanted exactly what she’d taunted last night: for him to pull the lacy cloth aside and drive himself inside her.

When he stopped the movement, she groaned in protest, but she quieted as his fingers slipped beneath her underwear and grasped her bare bottom. Mika propped herself up on his chest and gazed into Conor’s face. His green eyes burned, and he was so tense that a muscle jumped in the corner of his jaw.

She’d done this to him. Her, the weakling half-breed no real demon wanted. But Conor wanted her.

With a smile, she leaned forward and lightly nipped his lower lip. One of his hands left her rear end and his fingers splayed through her hair, holding her in place so he could kiss her. His mouth was hot, hungry, and his tongue stabbed against hers, demanding absolute surrender.

Conor didn’t have to worry. Anything he wanted, any way he wanted it, she would give it to him. Mika rocked again, needing to feel that friction between her legs. Conor broke the kiss and she started to complain, until she felt him grip the hem of her camisole. She lifted as he drew it up, helping him remove it, and he tossed the scrap of lingerie aside.

As she started to lower herself again, he stopped her. “Wanna look at you,” he growled.

His eyes were glued to her breasts and her nipples grew harder under his stare. When his sex pulsed between her thighs, Mika smiled. “Yeah, I feel it too. It’s going to be so hot with us,” she said.

McCabe’s reply was unintelligible, but the guttural noise was worth a hundred words. Lazily, Mika dragged her fingers over his abs, tracing the ridge of each hard muscle. She lightly circled his navel, then trailed the tip of her index finger down the line of hair that started just below his belly button until she reached the waistband of his shorts.

He arched back, but his arms remained locked at his sides—which wasn’t good enough. Mika wanted him out
of control. Completely, totally, utterly lost in her. The position of her body prevented her from exploring beneath the elastic, but with agonizing slowness she slid her palms up his skin until she could tease his nipples.

Conor bucked. He grabbed her hips, holding her in place for an instant, then ran his hands up her back. As he pulled her down to him, Mika braced her palms on either side of his head. The nubby fabric of the sofa abraded her skin, but she was only aware of that for the briefest moment before his lips were on her breasts. He kissed, licked, took her nipples into his mouth and used his tongue to pleasure her.

“More, please,” she gasped. When he gave her more, it wasn’t what she wanted. If the man couldn’t take a hint, she’d have to spell it out for him. “Damn it,
bite
me,” she ordered.

He did, light little nibbles that made her whimper and grind against him. She was close to orgasm, but she wanted Conor inside her when she came, and she told him that.

Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close and began to shift his body. It didn’t surprise her that a Kiverian male wanted the dominant position during sex. The realization made her inner muscles clench, and Mika pressed her teeth gently into his shoulder. His groan was silent, but she felt it vibrate through him.

Conor shifted faster. The solid support of the couch gave way to empty air, and Mika only had enough time to widen her eyes before they landed on the floor. McCabe took the brunt of the impact, his body cushioning hers. For an instant, Mika was dazed, then she realized Conor wasn’t moving.

The coffee table—it was so close to the sofa that he must have hit his head. She scrambled off him, but was careful not to hurt him further. “Conor!” She knelt beside him.

His eyes opened, the glow banked. “I’m okay,” he said.

She leaned closer, but there wasn’t much space. Impatiently,
she gave the couch a shove, sending it halfway across the room, then pushed the table the other direction. “Are you sure?” Without waiting for answers, Mika started feeling the back of his head for bumps.

Conor grabbed her hand and sat up. “I’m fine,” he said.

The thread of impatience in his voice froze her. Then she smiled. His annoyance was understandable; they had been on the verge of mating. “Well, since you’re fine…”

She pressed herself against him, and freeing her hand, turned his face toward hers to kiss him. He didn’t respond. Confused, Mika eased back. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing.” He pulled away from her and stood. “Get dressed.” His voice was flat, almost cold. He put a few steps’ distance between them.

For a split second, she felt strangely uncomfortable kneeling in front of him in nothing but her panties—embarrassed, ashamed—until she saw the way his sex strained against his shorts. Mika sat back on her heels, arching to accentuate her breasts, and looked at him from beneath lowered lashes. A rumble came from low in his throat, but she didn’t need it to know the effect she had on him. She could see it.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have me finish
un
dressing, McCabe?” she asked.

He didn’t reply, so Mika lifted her gaze. His eyes were glowing red. Oh, yeah, he definitely liked looking at her. She rose to her feet, going to him and winding her arms around his waist. His muscles became more rigid. Another rejection. The pain was so sharp, she couldn’t move; then she remembered that he’d been the one to start this.

For a moment, she stared at him, trying to figure out why he pulled back. What was he afraid of? The bond. Some demons ran from it, and since he was unaware of why he reacted so strongly to her, it probably frightened him more than most. Mika made a decision to show him a sliver of her own vulnerability. “I’ve never chased anyone
before, never begged a male for sex, but with you it’s different. I need you, Conor. I need you on top of me, I need you”—she slid her hand between them so she could stroke his erection—“inside me.”

“I don’t want this,” he said, his voice low and tight. But he didn’t prevent her hand from moving.

“Liar. There’s nothing you want more. I can feel it.” Mika slipped her fingers past the waistband of his shorts and ran her thumb across the moist head of his sex.

Conor jerked at her intimate caress, but he remained rigid, not returning the touch. Mika took her eyes off his bulge and looked up. His face was set in severe lines, and from the tension in his jaw, she knew his teeth were clenched. “You
want
me,” she repeated.

“My body wants yours, but
I
don’t want this.”

Mika studied him more closely. He was still in control and fighting what she made him feel, but she could break through his resistance. She was certain of that. And it wouldn’t take much.

Her hand stopped moving on his shorts, but she didn’t withdraw it. If she pushed, she’d have what she wanted—him. It seemed as if she’d been waiting her whole life to join with Conor. But if they had sex like this, with him compelled by her and the vishtau bond, he’d regret it afterward. And he’d be pissed off at her. Big time.

When it came right down to it, she’d more or less be forcing him to do something he didn’t want to do. That wouldn’t be as satisfying as being taken by someone who truly wanted her.

And he might even hate her the way he hated his father.

The dossier the Council had about Conor’s life had clearly cited his feelings about the demon who had sired him, but Mika might have guessed it on her own. She clenched her free hand where it rested behind Conor’s back. Her need to have him warred with her awareness that he wasn’t ready. If she goaded him, broke his control and spent the night in bed with him, that would be all
she’d ever have with Conor. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind about that.

Of course, once he discovered that she’d lied to him from the moment they met, she’d lose him anyway.

She struggled some more, but finally decided there was only one thing she could do. Regretfully, she stepped back and stopped touching him. She hesitated a moment longer, then stooped to pick up her camisole. It was inside-out, but she didn’t bother righting it before pulling it over her head.

Conor’s facial expression didn’t alter, but she sensed a change in him. Something seemed to ease in his features, and Mika knew a moment of bittersweet satisfaction. She’d done the right thing, there wasn’t any doubt about that—but had she given up her only opportunity with Mc-Cabe? Her only opportunity to mate with a strong demon? If she found the spell today, and was able to learn the other information the Council wanted, she’d have to go. And she wouldn’t be able to return.

Yes, he’d know she was the one responsible for the theft, and he’d never forgive her for the betrayal. Mika’s lips curved, but not with humor. So be it, she thought fatalistically. Despite his fury, Conor would know she’d backed off for him tonight. Maybe that would balance things out.

Even though she’d made the correct decision, she decided to torment him. It was only fair, since his withdrawal had left her throbbing.

Mika tossed her head, throwing her hair behind her shoulders with the motion, and strolled away, making sure there was just enough sway in her walk to hold him mesmerized. When she was halfway across the room, she paused, gave him a flirtatious look over her shoulder and said, “I’m going to be in the shower for a while. Try to ignore the moans—it’ll just be the massager doing what
you
should have.”

She waited until she saw that he understood. Then, with a soft laugh, she continued to the bathroom. This time, she closed the door.

Dried off and dressed, Mika followed the sound of grunting to Conor in his weight room. He was bench-pressing an impressive amount, and she was fascinated by his flexing muscles as he lifted the barbell. Since he only wore a pair of shorts, she was able to see quite a bit of his body. She stood in the doorway, fingers tucked into the front pockets of her faded jeans, and enjoyed the view. A light sheen of sweat covered him, and she guessed he’d been at it for a while. Mika smothered a smile. Since she’d hogged the shower, he’d turned to physical exertion for comfort.

As if sensing her presence, Conor put the barbell back in its cradle and lifted his head. Their eyes locked, and she quirked her lips. He muttered that she was trouble, and her smile widened—McCabe needed someone like her to shake him up.

Pushing away from the doorjamb, she sauntered toward the weight bench. As she neared, Conor sat up and grabbed the nearby towel. Probably he felt too vulnerable on his back around her, and the thought made her laugh quietly. When she reached him, Mika looked at the moisture on the black vinyl and then at Conor. With a loud sigh—one she was certain was for effect rather than any real sense of being put-upon—he ran the towel over the bench and then his chest and face.

Mika sat next to him, her body not quite touching his. The seat was high enough that her feet didn’t reach the floor, and she swung her legs as he toweled off. She’d sought him out with a plan—to set up a story so she could leave the house when it was necessary to rendezvous with her contact from the Council—but she was reluctant to lie to him again.

Instead of starting her tale, she asked, “Are we okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t we be?”

She turned her head to look at him. “Because of what happened earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.

She reached for his arm to stop him from bringing the towel to his face. “You didn’t want to have sex, and I nearly forced you. Given your background, I believe I have reason to worry.”

His expression hardened and a spark came into his eyes. Mika couldn’t put a name to it, but it made her heart pound. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything.

“You couldn’t have forced me,” he growled.

Tightening her grasp on his arm, she studied him. “I could have. You said no, but I saw you teetering and knew it would only take a small push. I almost did it, and I think we both would have regretted that.”

McCabe’s face held curiosity, and she wondered over it until she realized how serious their conversation was. He’d only seen flashes of this side of her before now. The thought nearly made her smile, but Mika suppressed it. This exchange needed to be earnest. While she wasn’t sorry for her actions, she did feel he deserved an explanation.

After a sigh, she said quietly, “You know I was raised in Orcus—for the most part, anyway—and if two demons want each other, they have sex. It’s that easy. I thought…I thought it could be that simple for us as well.”

He tugged his arm free. “I’m not a demon,” he growled.

The temptation to laugh was strong, but somehow she managed to resist. “You’re half demon, Conor, just as I am. As much as you pretend you’re human, nothing is going to change that. The drive and instincts of a Kiverian are deep inside you, whether you like it or not.”

Some of the rigidity left his body. “I’ve got them caged.”

“It’s not easy to cage something like that.”

Conor didn’t reply.

She debated, then decided there was no point in continuing on this path. “So, back to what I asked originally,” she said into the quiet. “Are we okay? It’s important to me that you don’t hate me like you do your father.”