Fated: Karma Series, Book Three (19 page)

“Kill joy.” Ares said before he raised his own glass and took a healthy sip.

“After that lost year in the crusades, I find it better to abstain,” Fate said. “What do you know of the person I was inquiring about?”

“I know he’s stepping on my toes and that he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t exist at all.” The true potential of Ares poked its head out as he spoke and I could literally feel the violence churning in the air around me. A sheen of sweat started to coat my skin. “There’s always been some overlap, here and there. You know this well yourself as you’ve occasionally had to make your way into our domain and have stepped on Moirai’s toes, you both handling fate. But this one, he has no couth, no manners. And he’s a glutton. No thought for balance and yet he moves about in my territory as if he has every right. I want him gone.” His fist slammed into the table we were seated at, leaving a burn mark in its wake.

The only thing that kept me in my seat was Fate’s relaxed demeanor, as he was still reclined in his own.

“But did you come up with anything to help us?” Fate asked.

“No.” Ares stood abruptly, barely containing the anger boiling and swirling around him. “But I want him gone.”

“Then give us something we can work with.” Fate rose as well, and that was the only cue I needed to leave.

“Don’t you think I’m trying?”

I dipped my head, thinking this felt awfully familiar. Another god having a temper tantrum in less than a week? I’d either been created at a bad time or these folks needed some anger management classes.

“Try harder,” Fate continued. “Let me know if you get anything.”

Fated moved to leave and I didn’t need a signal to join him. The waves of anger swirling around Ares were getting stronger by the second as we headed toward the doors that had remained open and waiting.

This obviously was not Ares’s first meltdown.

“Now what?”

“I know a great restaurant over in Mykonos. You hungry?”

We didn’t get back to the house until after eleven p.m. and a couple of bottles of wine. I walked in the bedroom and dropped my heels to the floor while a wine buzz still clung just enough to lower my inhibitions to the other side of not caring.

I didn’t know what this was between us and I didn’t care anymore. It wasn’t the time for logic and rules. Everything else was going crazy, why did I have to hold myself to a higher standard? It was time to feel, not think, and that’s what I was going to do.

Stopping in the middle of the room, I turned towards Fate. My fingers went to the shoulders of my dress and tugged them down while he stood there watching me. Another pull and I had it stripped down past the lacy black bra and panties I’d chosen to wear today because, from the moment I’d seen him earlier, part of me had known it would end like this.

His hands were on me as my dress was falling in a pool at my feet. His lips came to mine, greedily taking what was offered. My hands reached up over his shoulders, pushing his jacket down. His clothes were shed until the heat of his bare torso was melding with mine. He grabbed a thigh in each hand and hoisted me up effortlessly as I wrapped my legs around him.

His tongue sparred with mine and I could feel the change instantly. When Fate did something—anything—he didn’t hold back.

I fell backward onto the bed with him landing on top of me, fitting in between my legs. The rest of his clothes were shed in between kisses and love bites and then I had nothing but his hard flesh pressing me into the mattress.

I locked my legs around him, urging him inside me.

“Not yet. Not again. This time we’re taking it slow, even if it fucking kills me,” but his voice sounded as pained as I felt frustrated.

I gripped his head in my hands. “I want to feel you in me. Now.” And I did. I was almost crazed with the need to have him joined to me.

He let out a low groan as if my request had completely undone him.

“Get on your knees,” he said and then flipped me over before I could comply.

And then he was pressing into me from behind, a hand on my shoulder holding me in place as he thrust forward. His penis pulled out almost completely before thrusting deeply back in. I arched into him, urging him to pick up his speed as I lost myself to the moment.

He was growling as he pressed into me before we were collapsing on the bed. We fell apart and there was something heavy in the silence that followed which had me looking at him. He didn’t appear very happy. It’s not that I expected him to jump up and down or spring into cartwheels but I wasn’t expecting a pissed off expression either.

My hand trailed down his chest. “What’s wrong?”

He turned and leaned over me with his weight resting on his arms. Staring down at me, his eyes narrowed. “I’m not the problem. What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” I said, definitely not wanting to talk. Talking could lead to thinking, and I didn’t want to do that. I was tired of thinking. I raised my fingers to curl into his hair, trying to tug his head down and bring his lips to mine as a distraction. He initially obliged but then pulled back against the pressure of my hand.

He grabbed my wrist and pressed it to the bed, not cooperating with my demand.

“You’re even kissing differently.” It was an accusation.

“So what? Maybe it seems different because of Cupid’s spell.”

“No. There’s something wrong but that’s not it. Both of those times you were here with me.” He leaned back further. “I don’t know what this is.”

He leaned down and I thought he was going to drop it but instead of our lips touching, he leaned his forehead against mine. He let out a groan that sounded almost painful before he pushed off of me.

My jaw dropped open. “Didn’t you tell me recently you were going to get me in bed by hook or by crook? Well, you got me in bed and now you’re complaining?”

He didn’t answer in words but made more growling sounds that I decided to interpret as an insult.

“I’ve thrown up my hands and said what the hell, why not, and you’re still not happy?”

“‘What the hell. Why. Not.’” Each word was repeated crisply.

“Yes, exactly.” I stared at him in disbelief as he walked across the room as if he wanted distance from me.

He sighed and then that turned into a growling sound of sorts too. When that was finally over, he still wasn’t done and let out a string of curses.

“Where are you going?” I watched as his back retreated toward the adjoining bathroom.

“Shower.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I put my fist over my mouth to hold back from screaming.

“Nope.” His lips popping on the P as he pronounced it.

“Why?”

“Because you gave me the wrong answer.”

“Do you normally quiz women when you sleep with them or am I just special?”

“Just you.” Each word was coming out of a clenched jaw as if he were as annoyed as I was.

“This is ridiculous. You’re really going to go take a shower?”

He stopped and moved closer and for a second my heart flared as I thought perhaps he was coming to his senses and would stop making such a big deal out of this.

He stopped short of me and ruined it by starting to talk again.

“I think tonight was all about having a warm body.”

“And what would be so horrible about that?”

“Because right now I’m wondering if it could’ve been Knox in here and you’d have acted the same way.”

“I can’t believe you just said that.” I yanked the blanket over me.

“Yeah, well, I’m pissed off that I give a shit too but I do. When I fuck you, I want you to know it’s me, I want you to need
me
there with the very core of your being, clinging to me as if you’d die without it. I want it to be raw and real. Hell, even when Cupid was involved, at least I knew it was about us and not because I happened to be there when you were having a bad week.” He straightened and starting walking toward the bathroom.

“Maybe if you hadn’t been such a dick the first couple times I wouldn’t be like this,” I yelled at his retreating back, not caring if the whole house heard me.

He slammed the door.

He dumped me twice, and I was still willing to sleep with him and it wasn’t good enough? I flopped back down on the bed. Why did everything in life have to be so goddamn complicated these days?

Fate wasn’t in bed when I got up the next morning and I was glad of it. The morning after rejection might be even more uncomfortable than the morning after a good cuddle. What was most annoying was he walked out just as I thought we were warming up. I finally slept with him and got cut off for the effort. Last night was like having one spoonful of ice cream. I know there’s people out there who have that kind of restraint but I wasn’t feeling like one of them. Things were getting ugly. I needed some comfort and I was gearing up for a binge on it.

Cupid was standing at the counter in the kitchen as I shuffled in, looking for coffee. I paused beside him and poured myself a cup. Leaning against the cabinets, I took in his silk pajamas and suave ways. Maybe I should have a little chat with Cupid. He did have his uses, after all.

I measured his mood and angled myself in front of the nearest exit. He tried to smile at me but the corners of his lips were struggling to keep an upraised position. How the roles had changed. It wasn’t long ago that I was running from the room from him. Now look at me, blocking his path.

I smiled, sipping my coffee, watching him watch me. Small talk, that was a good start. “So, how have you been?”

“Good. And you?” His eyes narrowed in contrast to the warmth of his tone but he always had a voice that sounded like he’d just had sex.

“Same. Thanks.”

His lips started to twitch under the strain before he finally gave up the fight and dropped the hammer. “No.”

Now
he said no? Oh, I didn’t think so. I grabbed the coffee pot and topped of his mug for him. “No?” I asked, playing dumb.

“Yes,” he said.

“Wait, no or yes?” Life was so confusing when you didn’t actually ever say anything. How had I come to this place? This no man’s land of non-speaking?

“Yes, I said no, I will not do it.” His chin went up.

He was going to act like he was above it all? Now? After all the stunts he’d pulled and two more notches on his belt? No, he wasn’t getting away with that. Or he wouldn’t if I was willing to admit what I wanted. That was still up for debate.

“Do what?” I added a healthy shrug of indifference to the end of the question, just in case he wasn’t clear on my nonchalance.

“Let
me
, let
you
, in on a little secret.” He leaned in close, as if to impart a world secret. “I know when someone wants someone else. It’s my gig.”

I scowled, pretending complete ignorance as I took another sip of coffee. I wanted this accomplished but in such a way as to still give me deniability. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He kept smiling as he leaned closer. “I wouldn’t do it for him. I’m not doing it for you. I say when and how. I’m Cupid. No one tells me when to do my thing but me,” he rattled on as he went to the fridge, needing more milk.

“He tried to get you to spell me?” He’d said he was going to play dirty but I was still surprised to find out he’d asked.

His eyebrows rose and he put a hand over his mouth as he made a fake gasp of surprise. “I don’t know. Is what you’re doing considered asking?”

“I’m not asking you to do anything but if I were to ask something, or perhaps you just gathered a certain feeling, I would think you would do whatever you could for me since you owe me. And, of course, you gave me that whole spiel about being part of the gang? Gangs help out other gang members.” I rethought that sentence really quickly in my mind.
Nope, nothing outright incriminating.

“And here you are, asking for me to wrong you again.”

“If you hadn’t screwed with me, I might not even be interested in…certain things.”

Cupid laughed so hard, he started choking on his last sip. I watched as he walked over and had to spit out his mouthful of coffee into the sink. When he finally got his breath back, he turned and said, “Darling, you wanted him even when you hated him. Please, don’t try that bullshit on me. And what you’re doing makes absolutely no sense. If you both want it, and know you want it, what do you need me for? Just go at it already.” He stopped speaking as Luck sashayed into the kitchen in her sheer robe, negligee and furry heeled slippers before he continued, “This one can surely help you out with how to get things started. Unless that’s not the problem?” The corner of his mouth went up with ease now.

“Help with what? What are you all talking about?” she asked with full red lips. If it were anyone else, I would think the morning appearance had more to do with having company but not with Luck. She never completely turned off the sex bomb.

“Nothing.”

Cupid pulled Luck over to him with an arm around her shoulders. My coworker, who would’ve run screaming from him a week ago, went willingly into his embrace simply because of the prospect of gossip.

“Karma wants to bang Fate but I think he’s playing hard to get. Now, she’s trying to get me—”

“Pure speculation,” I said, breaking his sentence.

The interruption bought me all of a micro pause while they looked at me strangely with squinted eyes and then Cupid resumed. “She wants some of my mojo.”

“You people are the absolute worst.” I couldn’t even muster up enough emotion to yell anymore, just turned to pour some more coffee.

“Well, this is an interesting turn of events,” Luck said to Cupid, as I lifted the lid off the sugar bowl and scrapped out the last half teaspoon.

No more sugar? I couldn’t drink my coffee like that and I needed it badly. One person could only take so many insults in a small period of time.

I pulled open a cabinet above me where I hoped to find some more, while Luck and Cupid continued to discuss my situation.

“So he wants her but doesn’t want her. But, wants her again but now he won’t do it even though he does? I’m so confused,” Luck said.

“No more than them,” Cupid replied.

They both broke out laughing while I searched some more cabinets for much-needed sugar.

Skateboards skidded across the hardwood floors, surely leaving marks, and the Jinxes strolled in.

“What are the hooker and the love bus laughing about?” Bobby asked.

“Goddamn heathens! Who finished the coffee and didn’t put on a new pot!” Billy started shouting.

For once I was happy about their big mouths and the opportunity to change the subject.

“Make a single cup.” I pointed to a Keurig machine off to the side.

“I know you’re still fairly new and shit, but I only drink
that
blend.” His little finger tapped on a bag of gourmet grinds with a local coffee house sticker.

“Why are there skid marks across my floor?” Fate asked from the doorway since there was no room left to actually enter the kitchen.

Three blond heads dodged out of the kitchen, presumably to avoid taking responsibility for the marks on the floor. They were followed by Luck and Cupid who appeared to want to gossip in private for a change.

Fate walked in, reached above the cabinet over the fridge and pulled out a large bag of sugar, which he plunked down next to the empty bowl, sitting lidless. He grabbed a coffee mug of his own, his side brushing mine as he made himself a single cup and then leaned a hip against the counter.

“There’s more bags in there.” He tilted his head toward the cabinet he’d just opened.

“Thanks,” I said and then waited to see if he would bring up the subject of last night because I certainly wasn’t going to.

After a couple more sips I determined that would be a
no
on both fronts.

“Where did you get all the sugar?” I asked, partly out of curiosity, since I hadn’t seen any in the stores recently, and partly to fill the horrible silence that had my fingers twitching.

“I stocked up a couple weeks ago,” he said.

My spoon stopped swirling mid stroke. “You did? On sugar?”

He raised his eyebrows and made a face toward my coffee.

“But how did you know I took my coffee so sweet?”

He shrugged. “It was a guess.”

“Based on what?”

“You’ve never seemed to be able to beat that sweet tooth.”

“I never fought it so why would I have beaten it?”

“You’ve tried in the past.”

“When?”

“Not in your last life but many times before that.”

“Did you have jobs with me in the past? With my fate? Is that how you know so much stuff about me?”

All of a sudden Fate wasn’t leaning. “Some.”

Murphy walked into the kitchen and coughed, the word “Bullshit,” was barely disguised by his ruse.

“Murphy, I heard Bernie might need some help with the cats. Hear anything about that?” Fate asked, his eyes narrowing.

Murphy’s jaw dropped a bit and then he finally replied, “Not a word.”

Fate nodded, patted Murphy on the back and left the kitchen.

The second he was out of earshot I rounded on Murphy. “What did you mean, Bullshit? Fate didn’t have jobs with me? Spill the beans.”

He rapidly shook his head. “I was just coughing.”

“No you weren’t.”

“Karma, do you know what cats do to me? I sneeze, my eyes water and itch. They make me wish I were dead.” He sighed like someone truly exhausted or desperate and his eyes silently pleaded.

“Okay,” I said and took my coffee to drink on the deck while I pouted. What kind of lame immortals are we to be taken down by some cat dander?