Yellow flickers danced off her yoga mat in the corner and picked up highlights in the glass eggs in the bowl on top of her dresser. Her incense burner winked in the dancing light, too. She hadn’t burned a stick today, but yesterday’s lavender and jasmine, her favorite combination, lingered in the air.
The door to her bathroom was closed. Her one indulgence, an Oriental tapestry of a peacock, hung on the bedroom door. The picture usually comforted her, but today her insides hopped and danced and she had to fight back panic.
She felt as if her head was going to explode. Or her heart. Riana rubbed her pendant against her chest and tried to breathe. The smooth stone floor felt cool under her bare feet, but that only reminded her that she was barely dressed. That she’d let down her guard in her own haven, her laboratory, and given herself to a man who could have killed her and her triad, too.
When she had heard the noises upstairs and sensed that Cynda was injured, Riana had been sure they were screwed—and not in the fun way. She thought her triad had been compromised while she had been busy giving in to her selfish desires.
Never again. She had a responsibility to her friends, her triad sisters. They were the most important things in her life. The Sibyls were the only family Riana had ever known. Like many earth adepts, Riana was the product of careful breeding. The Mothers selected certain Motherhouse residents for the task, and chose nearby men to mate with them. It was an honor for the men and the chosen Sibyls. No doubt one of the women who had helped train Riana was her biological mother. Her blood-grandmother and even her great-grandmother might have been at the Motherhouse, but they never revealed that information.
We are all your mothers and grandmothers,
Mother Yana had told her late one night, when she came to comfort Riana after yet another round of nightmares.
We are all your sisters, your family of the heart. We will keep you safe, and help you learn how strong you can be.
“But I’m not strong,” Riana mumbled to herself. “I’m not a good mortar. Never have been, never will be. I still don’t know how to do it!”
She was letting down her true family. Letting down Mother Yana and all the years of careful training.
Cynda and Merilee thought she was an idiot because she lost her head over Creed. She could tell by the way they looked at her, by the jeering glint in their eyes. They had lost respect for her, in part, if not entirely.
How had she ever thought she could hold a triad together?
Fatigue struck Riana like a blow. She leaned against the door of her room and gazed at her own reflection in the mirror. Even softened by candlelight, she was pale and shaking, wearing a dirty chemise and stretched, ruined underwear. Her hair was a wreck. Soot and grime covered her cheeks, and she had streaks of Cynda’s blood on her hands and arms.
Yep. A real fashion plate.
You smell like sex…
Merilee’s smart remark rang in her mind, and drove her thoughts back to the feel of Creed’s hands on her, his fingers inside her. The way he claimed her nipples, her neck. The way he brought her to climax so fast, so hot, so easily. Riana’s body vibrated from the memory.
She rubbed her chest again to make herself start breathing.
Then, head down, she slipped out of her bedroom, padded into the lab, and picked up her ruined blouse and pants. She picked up her lab coat, too, and on her way back out the door, she peeled off her chemise and hurled it and the lab coat toward the industrial washer and dryer that occupied the far corner of the big room. The shirt and pants and panties she tied into a trash bag and tucked into her closet. They had to haul off their trash from now on, and she didn’t want the clothes lying around in plain sight to taunt her—and get her taunted.
Riana’s next stop was her shower, a copper creation with frosted doors that took up most of the space in the little bath chamber, leaving only a few feet for her toilet and sink. Inside the shower, the smooth jade tile felt perfect and soft as she stroked it, like three walls full of ancient worry stones.
She was acutely aware that Creed and Andy were on the ground floor, probably alone and unsupervised, if they were still in the brownstone at all. Cynda would be in her room beneath the stairs that led up to the third floor, with her headphones on, ignoring the world.
Riana couldn’t get enough of the hot water massaging her shoulders, her neck, her head. She soaped herself and rinsed three times, then washed her hair twice for an excuse to linger in the water’s heavenly pulses. Her nipples felt sweetly sore, and each time she moved, Riana felt a gentle, painful twinge between her legs.
That was just his hand. What would his cock feel like?
With a groan of frustration, she thrust her face under the water again, hoping it would wash away the temporary madness that seized her every time she thought about Creed. She knew it had to stop, right now, today. She couldn’t give in to her fancies and sexual urges again, not with him. Too dangerous. Too destructive to her relationship with Cynda and Merilee.
Still, when she got out of the shower, toweled off, and walked back into her room, Riana couldn’t help looking at her body in the mirror.
Riana had never been insecure about her body, but it pleased her to know Creed liked the way she looked. He didn’t make any secret of that. He didn’t make any secret of anything.
She ran her hands over her breasts, her belly, her hips. Then she touched her lips, remembering the taste of him, the feel of his mouth crushed against hers. Her skin tingled all over with the thought of making love to him—not just a quickie against the bars of a cell, but all night long, over and over.
“Not lovemaking. Sex. I need to get a grip. It was sex!” She turned away from the mirror and stalked to her dresser.
A few minutes later she had on her pendant, a comfortable pair of khakis, a white blouse that didn’t show too much cleavage, and her favorite jazz shoes, the ones she usually wore to do yoga. She hoped the shoes would remind her to keep her feet on the ground.
Something needed to.
She rubbed her forehead, took a deep breath, and headed back up the marble stairs to see if Creed had kept his word. When she got to the kitchen, she realized the sun was already going down. It was almost nighttime. Almost their busy hours, and she hadn’t had near enough sleep. A snarling rumble from her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t had enough to eat, either, and she grabbed a handful of almonds as she passed the basket of fruit and nuts on the kitchen table.
Swallowing the nuts in a hungry gulp, Riana pushed open the door to the living room. She was surprised to find Creed sitting on the couch talking quietly to Andy. Both of them fell silent when she entered the room, and Creed looked at her like he could see straight through her conservative clothes. Like they turned him on even more than a leather bodysuit or panties and a chemise.
Riana’s body heated up and started to tingle. She felt the instant flush in her cheeks, and she almost groaned as her tender nipples tightened against the soft cotton of the high-necked tank she had selected to put on under her blouse.
Then Creed looked away and doubled his fists.
Riana felt a moment of relief, followed by a moment of frustration.
Was he suddenly ashamed of his attraction to her? Had Andy dressed him down and made him think twice about what he was doing?
From the look on Andy’s face, sisterly concern mingled with worry, she might have done just that. Riana didn’t know whether to be grateful or pissed. She picked grateful right about the time Cynda and Merilee came downstairs.
Merilee had changed into black shorts and a black shirt, as if she was taking precautions against another fire, ash, and soot attack from Cynda. As for Cynda, she had on a very loose shirt and an even looser pair of shorts, and she walked with a notable hitch. When Cynda looked at Riana and rubbed her ass, Riana couldn’t help commenting.
“At least Andy didn’t shoot you intentionally. When Merilee sticks an arrow in your ass, she does it on purpose.”
Merilee glowered and flopped into one of the chairs.
Cynda, who seemed to be past her ill humor—for the moment—snickered and did not flop into a chair. She didn’t look ready to sit on anything, anywhere, in any way. She grinned at Andy and said, “No worries, okay? I’ve been shot before.” She tossed Merilee a smart-ass look. “More than once, I might add. And I heal fast. This’ll be history by morning.”
“That’s good.” Andy let out a breath. “I really didn’t mean to.” She patted Creed’s knee. “Creed told me where to buy lead. Riana, if the lead isn’t pure, can you—uh, fix it in your lab, or do whatever it is you do to make it pure enough?”
Riana nodded.
“Okay, then.” Andy smiled and stood. “I’ll head out and pick up everything we need. Creed tells me he’ll be staying for a bit?”
Without looking at Cynda or Merilee, Riana said, “Yes. My initial analyses take about eighty-six hours, and I don’t even know what the next steps might be.”
Merilee grumbled something about camping out in the lab to chaperone and make sure shit got done as fast as it could be done.
This time, Riana didn’t look at Creed when she said, “Whatever you want to do. I could use all the help I can get.”
Merilee looked up, startled by the invitation to actually go down in the “pit of earth-hell,” as she called the lab.
Cynda’s mouth came open, but she closed it in a hurry. She stared at Riana, obviously making sure she wasn’t kidding or being sarcastic.
“I mean it,” Riana insisted. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, and Creed isn’t exactly safe to be my lab assistant.”
She risked a glance in his direction. He looked tense, but not upset.
Riana’s stomach dropped.
What the hell? Had she wanted him to be upset about not getting more time alone with her? Had she wanted him to stand up and grab her and kiss her, and demand that they finish what they started?
Yes,
said a tiny, pathetic voice in her head. Goddess, she hated that voice.
Andy rubbed her eyes, yawned, apologized to Cynda once more, and took her leave with a promise to come back after eating the contents of her refrigerator and getting a good night’s sleep. She started for the door, but before she grabbed hold of the handle, the wind chimes started to ring.
Merilee was on her feet and moving before Riana could react. Silently, swiftly, she reached Andy and put her hand on Andy’s arm to keep her from opening the door. When Andy opened her mouth to ask what the hell was going on, Merilee put her finger to her lips.
Cynda studied the chimes, shook her head, then turned her right ear toward the sound and massaged the tattoo on her wrist. Riana recognized the gesture. Cynda was having trouble interpreting the message, probably because the chimes were slightly out of tune from all the wind and fire and rattling, and whatever Creed’s energy had done to them.
The chimes rang again, and a third time, the pattern shifting slightly with each ring. Riana picked up
Bronx, Long—no, wait. Court? Something about a court?
Cynda’s head snapped up and she whirled to Riana. “It’s Alisa’s triad. The North Bronx group. They’re on the run from three Asmodai on the John Muir trail at Van Cortlandt Park, up near the aqueduct. It’s the South Bronx group transmitting. They’re closest. North Queens is responding, too—and South Manhattan’s joining up with Queens. They want us to hold the fort in this borough.”
“We should go,” Merilee said. She let go of Andy and ran for the steps, presumably to change and grab one of her bows and some fresh arrows.
“If we respond, we leave Manhattan uncovered.” Cynda turned to Riana. “Right?”
Riana felt like her stomach was tearing in two. Alisa’s group, in trouble. If Riana were in jail and Alisa heard that the North Manhattan triad was under attack, she’d be there in a heartbeat.
But Alisa had a history of being impulsive like Merilee, even if she had earth training. Cynda, for once, was thinking with her head instead of her battle lust.
“Right,” Riana agreed. “Suit up. We need to spread out and hit the streets in a hurry. This might be a distraction for something bigger.”
“What do we do?” Andy’s fingers twitched as if she wanted to draw her gun. “And how do we do it?”
Riana did her best to smile. “You let Cynda take you to Creed’s place, and then to your apartment, you stuff your face, and you get some rest. The Asmodai aren’t after you—they’d have no reason to attack.”
“Don’t tell me you’re putting me back in the cell.” Creed’s statement came out low and direct. A challenge.
“Of course not.” Riana tried not to lose her temper. “But you don’t have any proper bullets yet, and you can’t use fists or guns on Asmodai. Stay here, please. Protect our home if you can, but if something breaks in, lock yourself in the cell. No Asmodai can get through those elementally locked bars.”
Creed’s mutinous expression set her teeth on edge, but he didn’t say anything. Riana ran to the closet, grabbed a couple of bodysuits, and tossed one to Cynda, who disappeared into the kitchen to change. Riana followed right behind her. They dressed in a hurry as Cynda complained that she hadn’t had a chance to rub her blade with choji clove oil after beheading the last Asmodai.
“It still has brown, sooty streaks. I’m losing my touch.”
Riana zipped up her suit. “We just haven’t had time.”
“God I’m starving.” Cynda grabbed an apple. Riana did, too. They could eat and walk if they had to.
She followed Cynda out of the kitchen to find Merilee standing alone in the living room. As was typical, she didn’t have her face mask down or her gloves on, but otherwise she was ready.
Riana glanced from the door to the couch and chairs, which were vacant.
“Shit!” Cynda whirled around and glared at Riana. “The bastard’s gone, and he’s got Andy with him.”
“Creed wouldn’t hurt Andy,” Riana said. “They probably left together.”
Merilee looked confused, then outraged. “I thought you had them with you.” She turned around and smacked her hand against the closed door. “What the hell do they think they’re going to do out there, other than get themselves killed?”