Angel Seduced (27 page)

All of the children's bonds had broken when they briefly lost their essence during the wave. Kye had checked each one to make certain, though her feelings for Kasabian had once again started to weaken her abilities.

Lyle swallowed hard. “Thank you for everything you did. For me. For Jonathan. He said you made him feel better.”

Both boys appeared to be on the verge of tears. She pulled them close, holding them as tight as she could. Their small arms squeezed her just as tight, tugging at maternal instincts she had no idea she possessed.
I'm really not a kid person. But gods, I'm in love with these boys.
They had Kasabian in their lives, but they needed a female influence, too. She caught Kasabian watching them, some unidentifiable emotion cutting across his expression even as he talked to the men. Only when the boys stepped back did she release them.

She brushed a tear from Jonathan's cheek. “How about I come visit you at Harbor? We could hang out.” She gave a tug on his faded shirt. “I could take you both shopping for clothes. Sometimes you need a woman's eye.” She turned her gaze to Lyle. “To coordinate the colors, patterns, that kind of thing.”

“Tomorrow?” Jonathan asked, and his eagerness melted her heart.

“Yes, tomorrow. We'll have lunch and ice cream, too. I'll have to make sure it's okay with Cory though.”

“That sounds fine to me.” She hadn't even noticed Cory approach. “If you were willing to risk your life to save them, I figure you're safe to take them for the day.”
Or forever,
a voice whispered.

Kasabian came up, and Lyle slammed his body against him, too. “Can you come, too? Kye's taking us shopping tomorrow.”

“And lunch and ice cream,” Jonathan added with a soft smile.

“I can manage that. You guys get checked out by the doc yet?”

“No,” Cory said, his voice a bit terse. “They insisted on making sure you two were okay. Come on, boys, they're fine. Let's get back.”

“See you tomorrow,” Kye said as Cory put one hand on each of their shoulders and Leaped.

“We've officially been released,” Kasabian said. “They're going to be doing a full-scale investigation. Hayden's already pushing them to check out the Bend. I'm sure they'll find all the evidence they need.”

“If it's not covered up.”

“Let's cross that bridge if we have to. I should take you to your parents. I'm sure they're anxious as hell to see you.”

An ocean breeze washed stray tendrils of hair across her cheek. She turned to see a slice of blue water between the building and foliage.

“I need a few minutes of down time.”

This time she linked her fingers with his and led him to the water's edge. Just seeing the expanse of wide open ocean invigorated her and cleared her mind. The dock held several lounge chairs, but Kye leaned against one of the pilings instead. She loosened her hair and let the fingers of breeze waft through it as she shook it out. Lifting her face to the sun, she filled her lungs with fresh air.

A sound, like Kasabian swallowing a groan or a growl, pulled her attention to him. He'd been watching her, hunger on his face. He shifted his troubled gaze toward the ocean.

She walked over to him, gently resting her hands on his bare shoulders. “I know what you're feeling right now. You're thinking that the right thing to do is push me away because you harbor dark magick and you don't want to hurt me. But part of you doesn't want to do the right thing.”

“Your abilities work? Even with us like this?”

She shook her head. “No, they're pretty much all mucked up. That was an educated guess.”

“Yes, part of me knows I should walk away because I don't know what this Wraithlord thing is capable of.” He brought his hands to her face, that struggle clear on his expression. “Another part says to hell with doing the right thing. I know that's the Wraithlord, and I shouldn't listen. It whispers that none of my struggling matters because you're mine, and there's no way in hell I could walk away from you.” He brushed his thumb across her lower lip, his eyes heavy with the weight of his words. “And it's right. Because the thought of that feels worse than being Stripped.”

He slid his hands down her back, pulling her against his body. “That goes to show you what a terrible person I am, Kye. Driven by my dark needs, selfish beyond imagination, I would subject you to the danger of my unstable nature and the loss of what makes you feel valuable.” His fingers squeezed the curve of her ass. “I would take all of you and not care what it costs.” He claimed her mouth, hard and swift, giving her a taste of the violence he harbored, the possessiveness of it.

She gave it right back, matching his ardor tongue to tongue, running her hands up into his soft hair. He swiveled so that her back came up against the railing, his thighs trapping hers. He nibbled her lower lip, and she bit his back. He let out a groan of pleasure, squeezing her tighter.

“Kye, damn it.” He restrained all of the energy that threatened to sweep her, and probably him, away. Agony filled his eyes as he visibly fought to pull back a few inches. “You have to tell me what a selfish bastard I am.
You
have to tell me to bug off and leave you alone so you can get back to your life, your job.” He shook his head and laughed, though it came out bitter. “I can melt doorknobs, I can cut someone in half with my Light, but I'm not strong enough to walk away from you.”

Save me.
That's what his expression implored of her.
Save yourself.

She ran her fingers down his cheek. “You are bad for me. Selfish, violent, possessive—”

“An aberration,” he added. “Forty ways fucked up, remember?”

“I do. But here's the thing. You're more than that. You're noble and courageous. Above all, you are a good man. If you don't believe that yourself, well then, I'll believe it enough for both of us. You brought me to life, showed me passion and sacrifice and what it feels like to be cherished.” She patted his cheek, giving him a chagrined smile. “So I'm not able to let you go any more than you're able to let me go.”

Despite his agony, his eyes glittered with something more powerful. “Pity, love, that you're not a smarter girl.”

“Yeah, pity.” She gave him a sweet kiss. “And we can wallow in our stupidity as we make crazy love and annoy each other with our habits and quirks, and, oh, knowing exactly what the other is thinking because of our bond, because we are doing the Cobra again. This time on purpose.”

He gathered her in his arms and spun her around, but his expression quickly sobered. “Except—”

“Crap. No abilities.” She took a breath. “I'll teach another Zensu how to do it. We'll find a way.”

“You'll be okay with not having your abilities to sense your clients' issues?”

She tested that idea and didn't feel that sick panic in her stomach. “Yeah, I am. I still have my counseling degree.”

He pulled her close, his forehead pressed against hers, hands in her hair. “Do you know how much I fucking
love
you?”

Emotion swelled in her heart. “Why do you think I'm out here pledging myself to a slightly psychotic Dragon angel?”

He leaned back to look at her. “Because you're slightly insane?”

“I'm very crazy…over you.”

He released a long breath. “I want to take you home, but I promised—”

“I know. Let's go to my parents' first.”

She had stepped off a cliff, but instead of feeling scared, she was happier than she'd ever been.

Kasabian and Kye were silent as they drove, his fingers curled around hers. Kye knew her parents wouldn't be thrilled about any of this, but most especially about her falling for the monster they'd seen in the van. The one who had almost killed her father. But she had stood her ground all those years ago and pursued her Zensu career. Kasabian was worth standing that ground again.

When they pulled up to the house, Kye turned to him. “Brace yourself. Sarai's here, too.”

The three surrounded Kye with hugs and frantic questions. Kasabian let her handle it, but he remained by her side once they'd settled in the living room. No one had missed their linked hands, but they didn't seem surprised or even upset about it.

There was an odd tension though, so Kye said, “Okay, out with it. You don't like that I'm with Kasabian.”

Her mother traded a look with Sarai, who was silently urging her to say something. Finally her mother said, “I may have misrepresented your babushka's advice. A little.” She held her finger and thumb a fraction of an inch apart.

“You mean her directive that I should be committed?” Yeah, that had stung.

“She did say you should be committed. But she meant…to him.” She flicked her finger toward Kasabian. “It will solve the problem of losing your abilities. Once you commit your heart to him, the crazy feelings and doubts will settle down, and you'll get your focus back. She said he's a good man. He'll love you well.”

Kye met Kasabian's gaze. Yes, he would. She pushed to her feet, which forced Kasabian to follow suit since she was gripping his hand like a vise. She gave Babs, wherever she might be, a smile of gratitude and then turned it to her parents and Sarai. “Babs is right. He is a good man. He's going to take me home and put me to bed, where I'm going to sleep for, oh, about twenty hours.”

But when she woke, she would love him well, too.

R
uby sat in her truck across the street from Dragon Arts. She'd changed clothes and done a quick cleanup at home. Even taking that bit of time had stretched her tight. She'd wanted to drive right over and tear out Cyntag's throat.

Those kind of thoughts usually disturbed her, hinting at a primitive violence that reared its head when someone wronged or threatened her. It throbbed inside her, curling her fingers into fists.

Get it under control. This is one bad dude. All I'm doing right now is finding out how bad.

The logical part of her brain added,
A bad dude who possibly has control of bizarre and deadly weapons while you have a gun. Hullo?

But what else can I do, let him just get away with killing Mon and never know why? No way in hell.

Without that envelope, she had nothing but Cyntag's name and the schizophrenic thoughts bouncing around in her head.

According to their website, he was teaching a class starting in—she glanced at the clock—one minute. While he was otherwise occupied, she'd snoop and be long gone before his class was over. She had no idea how much Cyntag knew about her. Because she usually wore her hair in a braid, she left it loose and frizzy. Not a big disguise but, at a glance, different enough. She had no intention of him seeing her, but best to be prepared. Which included her gun, the metal cool against the small of her back. She'd found it useful when she started going off-site to look at people's stuff. In a city like Miami, no way was she walking into someone's garage alone and unarmed.

Warm air washed over her neck, and in the corner of her eye, something shimmered next to her. She jerked to the side but saw nothing. All her hairs sprung to attention. It had felt like a breath.

Her mystery rash, which only broke out on the right side of her stomach, burned something fierce. Doctors couldn't figure it out, and she'd tried every kind of medication to no avail. Stress always triggered it.

She stepped into the mid-September heat and humidity. The buildings in this area were old but in good repair. She spotted a Spanish/Portuguese restaurant across the way, and most of the signage was in Spanish with English subtitles. She generally felt like a foreigner in Miami, often one of the few Anglo people at any given location.

She caught sight of her reflection as she approached the glass door: cargo pants, black T sporting the Red Hot Chili Peppers' asterisk logo, and black work boots that protected her feet if something heavy fell on them. The bandage on her forehead, that had to go.

Dragon Arts was first class, with a comfortable waiting area, natural wood floors, and halogen lights in frosted glass cones. A woman about her age, framed by a tattered pirate's flag on the wall behind her, sharpened pencils at a tall reception desk.

Her dark pink lipstick and short, white hair popped against her raven skin. “May I help you, sugar?” The small gold plaque on the desk identified her as Glesenda.

“I wanted to check the place out, see what classes you offered.”

She handed Ruby a slick brochure, studying her eyes. “And not listed are…” She did a double take, her eyebrows furrowing. “Well, you can see the listing for yourself.”

Well, okay then. Ruby devoured the flier, looking for one thing: a picture of the owner. No deal, same as their website. An Internet search gleaned several articles mentioning Cyntag's name in conjunction with either his studio or some competition a student had participated in, but nothing on Twitter, Facebook, or any other social networks.

Ruby caught Glesenda's eye. “I understand Cyntag Valeron teaches Cane Fighting Level One?” Whatever that was.

Glesenda nodded toward one of the large glass windows. “He's teaching in the Sapphire Room right now.”

Ruby wanted to run over and finally put a face to her uncle's murderer. Her breath left her with every step toward the window. A class of ten men of various ages stood in formation as they watched two men spar at the far side of the room. One sported a shaved head, was in his fifties, and weighed about two-fifty. The other—holy Jesus in Heaven. She sucked in air and tried to pull herself together. He was whip-muscular, wearing loose white pants with a tight black sash at his waist, his ripped torso slick with sweat. Gorgeous, dangerous-looking…and the spit-and-polish image of the Dragon Prince. Even down to his dark hair and the exotic slant to his eyes.

He had a tattoo far more fantastic than any she had seen, a dragon crawling up his back. Black and blue wings spanned his shoulders, the tail sliding down his spine to disappear beneath the waistband of his pants. When he shifted, she saw that the dragon's head peered over his shoulder. It looked three-dimensional.

“Yeah, he has that effect on most women.” Glesenda wore an amused expression.

Not quite this effect, Ruby bet. Her chest was so tight she had to push out the words. “That's Cyntag, the one with the dragon tat?”

“Sure is. Total hotness,” she said on a sigh.

Sure, if you were into men who sent murderous orbs. The hefty guy pretended to sneak up behind Cyntag, who twisted, hooked the other guy's neck with the curved handle of the cane, and sent him flat on the mat in a flash. Unscathed, Hefty jumped to his feet and tried another attack, which was quickly thwarted with a pseudo-whack of the cane to his head. She watched, mesmerized by the stealthy grace of Cyntag's movements, the way his muscles flexed, and how damned fast he was.

“You can listen in, too.” Glesenda pressed a button and then ran in five-inch heels to answer the phone.

Cyntag's voice came through the speaker. “The next counterattack we'll demonstrate is an assailant in a face-to-face assault.”

Yes, the low, smooth voice she'd heard on the message.

Ready to take more abuse, Hefty tried to punch Cyntag and ended up with his arm locked behind him and the cane shoving him to the floor.

Cyntag extended his hand and effortlessly pulled Hefty to his feet. “Thanks, Stephen.” He raised the cane over his head, which tightened his biceps, and addressed his class. “Looks like a sign of disability or old age, right? If I'm looking for a victim, you're an easy target. Or maybe not. If you've got one of these, you have the ability to fight off an attacker with force. At all times, you can carry a weapon right out in the open, no permit needed.”

At that moment, Cyntag started to look her way. Ruby moved out of view, her fingers so tight on the frame around the window that she had to pry them off. Her hands were shaking as she passed the desk where Glesenda was on the phone with someone who was obviously calling in sick. Ruby glanced at a clock. Forty-five minutes before class ended.

She'd laid her eyes on him, all right. What was she going to do about it? The only way to take him out—if she could—was to shoot him from a distance, but that wouldn't glean any answers. She was as desperate for them as she was for revenge. Maybe something here would help.

She passed a sign that read
OBSIDIAN ROOM
. This room bore no window. Too bad, because disturbing sounds emanated from behind the closed door. She tried the handle, ready to act contrite at interrupting.

Except, no deal. The door was locked. The thumps and growls coming from within were muffled, as though the walls were somewhat soundproofed. Those primal growls raised chill bumps on her arms. But more than that, they reached deep inside and twisted at her insides.

She rubbed her arms and wandered into the shop, pretending to look at fighting sticks, canes, and uniforms. Until she spotted a closed door with the words
EMPLOYEES ONLY
on it.

She pushed it open, prepared once again to feign innocence if she found someone on the other side. It appeared to be a break room and, fortunately, vacated. A door at the other end was ajar, and she could see a desk. Maybe Cyntag's office. Inside, a contemporary desk was juxtaposed with antiques, like framed compasses and maps that looked as though they'd traveled on many a high sea. No pictures of friends, family, or a special vacation. A collection of dragon figurines lined the top shelf of the bookcase, each locked in combat with either another of its kind or a man wielding a sword. Dude had a thing for dragons.

Ruby caught herself scratching the damned rash again and closed the door. She sank into the leather chair at the desk and searched for any clue to who Cyntag was and what he was involved in. Anything incriminating would be documented with her camera phone. She'd rifled through four drawers, finding nothing out of the ordinary, when the door opened. Her heartbeat shot straight up into her throat as she turned.

Because of course it had to be Cyntag standing there.