My Dangerous Pleasure (41 page)

“Please. We need you.” Kessler held out his arms.

On the bed, Paisley’s body went stiff. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and in the interim, Kessler whipped his head toward Iskander.

“No!” the mage shouted.

Iskander crossed the room and grabbed two handfuls of Kessler’s suit coat. “Let her go, Fen.”

“Iskander—” That was Kynan, but Iskander ignored the warlord.

“I’ve helped her as much as I dare. Kill me,” Rasmus said, low and hard. “If you don’t, she will and it will be too late for us all.”

Iskander reached out for his former blood-twin, but there was nothing there for him to touch. She was mageheld and her magic was bound up with Kessler’s, and, as was the case for all magehelds with respect to the kin, he couldn’t connect with her magic.

Kessler’s eyes jittered madly. “If your human tries any more tricks, I will harm her, Iskander.”

“Let Paisley go, and we’ll talk.” He moved closer to the bed but Kessler pushed back.

Iskander could take Kessler’s heart now. He’d be justified. And Nikodemus had promised to take care of the fallout if that happened.

“I want your promise,” Fen said through Kessler. His mouth twisted as he resisted her control of him. “Promise to come back to us. Promise us, and everything will be the way it should be.”

“Let her go and we’ll talk. That’s the only promise you’ll get from me.”

Light refracted off the rubies in Rasmus’s braids. Iskander glanced over his shoulder and saw Gray a few steps away. Carson and Kynan had come partway in, but Kynan had put himself in front of Carson, because, like most of Nikodemus’s sworn fiends, he was ready to lay down his life to protect Nikodemus’s witch.

“Gray,” Iskander said. The assassin had enough magic to make her a witch. “Are you getting anything from Fen? Is she even there?”

“She’s there.”

“You’re in Nikodemus’s territory,” Iskander said to Rasmus. “We can’t harm the magekind, Fen, and that includes you. If you kill Rasmus, there will be consequences.”

Rasmus held out his arms. “My love, my love, we miss you.”

“One of Nikodemus’s assassins is right here, Fen. If you don’t let the mage go, she’s going to kill you. You won’t see her coming for you, and she won’t let you live. Let him go, Fen. Before it’s too late. Carson is here. She can sever you and you’ll be free. Let him go. Before it’s too late.”

The jitter in Rasmus’s eyes stopped. For an instant, Kessler, not Fen, looked out of the mage’s eyes. He moved so that Iskander was left with a clear line of sight to Paisley.

Iskander’s magic raged at him to be released, whispering in his head, burning through his blood. He would kill them both if he had to, Kessler and Fen. Before Gray had a chance to do anything.

His back rippled again and he shot a glance at Paisley. Her expression hadn’t changed, though her eyes flickered to him. She sat in the same position on the bed. Her frozen stance was typical for an indwell when the human was putting up a strong resistance. Good for her, goddamn it.

He gave Gray a sign that she should do whatever needed to be done. He considered going into Paisley’s mind and just taking over. He didn’t doubt he could do it, but that might open up Paisley to Fen, and with Fen’s sanity in shreds, he just had to hope Paisley continued to keep her out.

Rasmus made an odd motion with one hand, and then Paisley’s head dropped back. Iskander pulled hard enough to send a shower of tiny sparks arcing through the air. He held up his fist, fighting for control of the magic raging through him. The mage’s eyes fixed on his hand. He saw Gray slide close. Softly and with lethal grace.

“Do it,” Rasmus said. “Please.”

Iskander’s skin rippled the way it did before he changed, and he embraced the onset. He was aware of Paisley leaning toward him, of the magic Kynan had pulled, of Carson and her magic, and of Gray positioning herself. But it was the magic coming from Paisley that seriously cranked him. If it was cranking him, then it was cranking everyone else, too.

“If you think I won’t break the rules,” Iskander said, “you ought to know Paisley is under my protection. I’ll die for her. Right here.”

Rasmus opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Now that Fen wasn’t trying to indwell, Paisley could do something besides concentrate on keeping her out. She leaned toward Rasmus and reached for him, the air around her shimmering. Her palm touched the mage, and then she pulled back her hand.

A scream tore from Rasmus, shrill and piercing.

Iskander couldn’t feel Fen’s use of magic, but he could sure as hell feel the result. A barrier went up around Rasmus, but in the larger view of things, the barrier was fucking pathetic. He couldn’t feel it magically, but he could see the physical effects. Iskander ripped through it like it was nothing. Which it was, to him. He grabbed Rasmus by the throat and lifted him up.

Never trust a mage. He ought to kill Rasmus right now and get this over with. Finally. Permanently.

Paisley lifted her hand and touched Rasmus’s forehead, and what she did was pure magekind magic. More magic poured from her than he’d ever felt from her before. “Release the mage,” she said. She was giving Fen a direct order, as if she were a trained mage.

Iskander held his breath. If this didn’t work, if Paisley’s order to Fen didn’t work, he was going to kill Rasmus and take his chances with the aftermath. He pulled enough magic to turn Kessler’s brain to fucking mush.

“Fen,” Paisley said calmly. “You must release him.”

Nothing happened.

The room was silent as death. Everyone waited: Gray, Carson, Kynan. Him. Part of him died inside. He drew on his magic, ready to let all of it release into the mage.

The mage’s body went limp, and he crumpled to the floor, inert. Before him stood Fen, and there was not the least sign of sanity in her eyes. Her physical manifestation was no longer perfect. The shape of her face was off, and the contour of her body shifted. One arm too long, a leg too short.

Fen screamed, but no sound came from her throat. From his left, he saw Carson dart in and sweep a hand across Fen’s chest. Fen gasped and her legs buckled. She fell to her knees. They all felt Fen strike back.

Kynan let out a roar and launched himself at Carson, putting his body between Fen and Carson. The magic that flashed out from Fen struck Kynan.

Paisley fell to her knees beside Kessler.

Fen struggled to her feet, ignoring the others. She reached for Iskander, and her magic crashed over him. For the first time in years, he felt her magic. For a heartbeat, everything was back the way it had been. He drew a breath and refused the push of Fen’s attempt to restore their bond. That was over. Her madness shivered through the room in a sickening wave, and Iskander knew there was nothing left of the woman he’d once loved. Already she was losing her ability to maintain a physical form.

He pulled his magic and took her heart before it was too late.

It was his final act of kindness.

C
HAPTER 37

P
aisley walked away from Kessler’s motionless body and went to Iskander. He was kneeling beside Fen’s body, his head bowed, whispering. He looked up when she reached him, and he put a bloody hand to her cheek. “It’s over,” he said softly.

She put her arms around him and drew him to her. She wanted to cry but didn’t dare. Iskander put his arms around her and held her close. His heart beat against his chest, in time with hers. While she held Iskander, Kynan Aijan knelt at Fen’s side, too. He bowed his head and pressed his fingertips to his forehead.

Carson and then Gray did the same thing. Like the others, Paisley bowed her head, too. As the last of Iskander’s whispered words faded on the air, Fen’s body vanished.

Paisley shivered. Iskander’s arms tightened around her and he held her closer, his head against her shoulder. She stroked his hair. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “It’s all right.”

He stood up, bringing her with him. “I thought Fen was going to kill you.”

“She didn’t, though.” She managed a tremulous smile. “Are you all right?”

“Without you,” he said, reaching for her again, “my life would not have been worth living.”

Kynan stood, too. Blood trickled down the side of his face, and he held his left arm at an awkward angle. He extended his right hand to Carson and then Gray, and both the women were good sports about indulging the warlord and pretending they needed help standing. “You’re a fucking witch,” he said.

Paisley shivered. She was cold inside and out. She turned her hand over. The inside of her wrist was bloody, and she was shaky with whatever had happened to her. At the end, she’d realized that all this time, Rasmus had been sending his magic into her, deliberately weakening himself and giving her at least a chance to defend herself against Fen. If she hadn’t turned out to be resistant, his plan might have worked much sooner. “If I am, it’s because of Rasmus.”

Everybody turned to look at the mage, sprawled on the floor, unmoving.

“Carson, if Paisley is still linked with Kessler, can you sever it?” Iskander pulled her tight against his side. He didn’t want to let her go. Ever.

“I think so.” She walked to Paisley. “May I?”

Paisley glanced at the mage on the floor. “Will it harm him?”

Carson glanced at Kessler, too. “Interesting question. I doubt it. It might end up trapping his magic in you. My guess is he intended all along to take it back.”

“Never trust a mage,” Kynan said, and there was an unsettling fire burning behind his words.

She looked at Iskander. “What do you think? Is it safe?”

“Probably not. But it’s less safe to wait for Rasmus to wake up. Kynan’s right. I say fucking do it.”

“All right, then.” Paisley nodded at Carson. “Let’s do it.”

“This might hurt a bit. Ready?” When she nodded, Carson touched Paisley’s chest. The other woman’s eyes fluttered open and closed several times. Heat flashed and twisted through her, and with Paisley’s overloaded senses, she could pick out the heat streaking from her injured wrist to that pool of wide, still magic inside her.

When it was over, Paisley reeled back. Iskander caught her and held her steady. “You okay?” he whispered.

On the floor, Kessler’s right arm flailed. His back arched once and his mouth opened wide then shut with a clack of his teeth. His body flattened out, and once more he lay still. His mouth went lax. She’d have thought he was dead, but his chest moved with a breath and then settled down into a curious nullity. No one moved against him, and she took that to mean they all thought what she did. Rasmus wasn’t a threat right now.

Paisley fought for a breath herself, and if it weren’t for Iskander’s presence, she would have had a harder time of it than she did. She lifted her wrist. It was blistered and bloody, but it didn’t hurt anymore.

“I think that takes care of that,” Carson said. With a smile, she dusted off her hands. “Quite neatly, if you ask me.”

Paisley put a hand to her chest and took stock of her condition. She no longer felt that sense that someone was waiting to take her over, and the low-level sense of unease that had been curled up in her belly for so long was gone. “What happens to him?”

Carson shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out, right?”

“How about you get her home?” Gray told Iskander. “You look like you both need a good long rest. We’ll take care of cleaning up here.”

“Sure.” Iskander didn’t release Paisley. “Somebody tell Nikodemus I’ll bring his car back in a couple of days, okay?”

Carson waved him off. Her attention was on the mage now. Iskander slid a hand around Paisley’s waist and led her toward the door.

“Paisley Nichols?”

She stopped at Kynan’s sharp query of her name. “Yes?”

He bowed his head and pressed three fingers to his forehead. “Thank you.”

She mimicked the gesture. “I’m the one who should be saying thanks to you. To all of you.”

Twenty minutes later, she was in the passenger seat of a sleek black car with Iskander driving way too fast. They weren’t heading home but rather north toward the Marin headlands. They took the first exit off the Golden Gate Bridge, and he gunned the car. She was sure they weren’t supposed to be on this stretch of road, but considering the day she’d had, she didn’t give a damn.