My Wicked Enemy (28 page)

Kynan uncrossed his legs and jammed his feet on the seat on either side of her. His gorgeous eyes flickered with orange fire. His suit was Luigi Borelli, a charcoal wool with a stark white shirt and golden-brown sevenfold tie. Everything came handmade and made-to-order from Naples. Kynan’s measurements never changed, of course. Nothing but the best for Magellan’s fiends. “You feel different. What did Nikodemus do to you?”

She resisted the impulse to cross her arms over herself. Let him stare all he wanted. “I don’t know if I can explain it.”

He unfastened his tie and dropped it on the seat. “I’ve heard you severed another fiend from Rasmus.” He unbuttoned his suit jacket. “First Harsh, then Xia. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“When you touched Xia before, he told me nothing happened.” He unfastened the top buttons of his shirt, exposing golden skin above a white undershirt. Carson pressed her spine against the seat. He continued unfastening his shirt. When he finished, he untied his shoes and slipped them off. He raised his head, mouth turned down at one corner. Carson sought his eyes, needing to lock gazes with him to find her way in. His gaze was cold. Dispassionate. What Kynan wanted didn’t matter. He was bound by Magellan’s command. Carson sat up. Her hand shook, a well of old pain renewed. Bright droplets of blood ran down her arm from the abrasions left by Xia’s knife. His eyes flickered. She knew what blood did to a fiend, and that flicker in Kynan’s eyes was the first true thing she’d seen from him.

“And me?” He removed his jacket and unfastened his belt. With catlike grace, he slipped out of his trousers. He wore boxers, and those were soon gone. Carson’s heart pounded in her ears. She knew now that fiends preferred to be naked when they changed form. They didn’t have to be, but they preferred it. She wasn’t sure she could handle Kynan in shifted form. His shirt and undershirt were next. His eyes stayed on hers, and she gazed into them. “What would happen if you touched me?” he asked.

“It depends,” she said, “on whether you’re helping me or fighting me.” Carson took a breath and, with fear hammering at her, offered him her wrist.

He hesitated, and Carson waited. At last, he wrapped long fingers around her elbow and tugged. His mental energy focused on her wrist, on the color and scent of her blood. She moved to his seat, looking for a way in. Kynan slid his hand along her forearm until he cupped the back of her hand and raised her wrist to his mouth, touching her skin, but not her blood. Not yet. “What else did Nikodemus teach you?” he said in a low voice.

“More than you know.”

With a smile curving his mouth, his tongue flicked out, and she raised up when he closed his lips—almost a kiss—and tasted. They shared his body’s reaction, his heightened arousal pulling them both along. He reached for her with his other hand, pressing her shoulder against the chill of the window glass.

“What about you?” she whispered. “Don’t you want your freedom?”

When he lifted his head from the freshly bleeding cut on her arm, Kynan bent his head to one side, exposing his throat. He ran the blade across his skin. Just the slightest touch, and blood welled up. He waited, beautiful eyes fixed on her. Carson leaned forward in the unbearable closeness of the limousine, Kynan’s scent in her nose, and pressed her mouth to the cut on his throat. Tangy and sweet. Her body sizzled with the taste. His fingers fumbled at the fastening of her jeans, sliding the zipper down.

Carson managed to wriggle out of his grasp. “No.”

“Why not?” He slid a finger along her lower lip and came away with a drop of bright blood. Carson’s mind reeled with the intensity of his magic and the echo of Magellan. She could follow that link, she thought, and end up back at Magellan. Losing Kynan would damage the mage, and she needed to do as much damage to the mage as possible. She closed her eyes and concentrated on that. And then she was in his head. Not much, but enough. And then more. His hatred of Álvaro Magellan would burn the world if ever he was free.

“I can sever you,” she said.

“How are you doing that?” His hand, the one still clutching Xia’s knife, pressed against her head. Three fingers loosened to thread through her hair. Carson was in his mind, and he knew it and allowed her to stay. “You’re not of the kin. And I am not free.”

“Yes,” she said. “I am kin. And mage.” She slid further into Kynan’s mind. Her new magic, centuries old but new and untested for her, reacted to Kynan with a power that brought a cry flowing up from her throat. She fell hard inside, and then she didn’t see Kynan anymore. She sped through the thoughts in his head, separating the magic that was his from the magic that came from Magellan, and then she smiled.

“Impossible,” he whispered. “It’s not possible.”

She leaned forward and touched a hand to his cheek. “I know how he did this to you. And I’m going to put a stop to it right now.”

She severed Kynan in a single, brutal slash and kept going, coming perilously close to making him hers completely. Kynan’s magic caromed toward her, blowing over her like a hurricane. The part of her magic that wasn’t fiend billowed out, interfering with her vision. Kynan came in, landing her back in her body, gasping for air. He kept pushing magic at her.

“Stop,” she said. His body flexed over hers. His rib cage heaved as he fought for breath. “Kynan,” she said, desperate not to be pulled along into something that could come only at the cost of her relationship with Nikodemus. Her desire to take him burned hot, so hot she didn’t know how to stop. He would be hers, a weapon she could direct against Magellan and Rasmus both. She could help them all if she made Kynan hers.

Kynan lifted his head, staring into her eyes as he continued to feed into her head. His mouth twisted. “Better your creature than Magellan’s.”

“No.” Nikodemus needed her to sever Kynan, but she needed never, ever to cross that line and make a fiend her mageheld. The heat of the connection between her and Kynan blasted her, but she shut it down because that way led to an evil that would never leave her.

If she did this, she’d lose Nikodemus.

Kynan’s body arched, and he let out a whoosh of air. She stared at his hand around her arm. “Let go of me, Kynan. Please.”

He sagged against the seat, hands pressed to his chest. “He’s gone.” His eyes opened wide, but Carson stayed disengaged from him, and when he tried to slip into her head, she walled him off.

“It’s over, Kynan.”

He looked at her sideways. “You didn’t take me. Why?”

She shrugged. “Because it’s ugly and wrong, that’s why.”

“But I have a connection with you, I feel that.”

“You’re not mageheld.”

“Impossible,” he said softly, touching his chest.

The limousine rocked, and she went cold because Nikodemus was pulling hard from her. He was out there facing Magellan, and he needed her. Her heart clenched like a fist around rock. With a cry, Carson pushed at the door, fumbling at the lock mechanism because her head was bursting with the pain of Magellan’s magic exploding around her. Kynan grabbed her arm from behind. She turned back and snarled at him. “If you want to pay me back for setting you free, Kynan, then you make sure nothing happens to Nikodemus.”

“Mage,” he said. “Or are you fiend?”

“Both,” she snapped.

Kynan reached around and released the door lock. She kicked the door open. He was here, Nikodemus was here and Magellan was lying in wait, quite possibly with Rasmus, too. Maybe he didn’t have Kynan anymore, but he was still formidable all on his own. Overhead, the sky boiled black, starless, fathomless. She half fell, half scrambled onto the street. Kynan hit the pavement beside her. He was still naked, and she knew he was close to changing.

Nikodemus crouched on the hood of the limo while Magellan stood with a hand raised toward him. Carson’s throat closed off because she could feel Nikodemus slipping away from her. Sheer panic propelled her forward. Without Kynan, not even Magellan had the power to bind Nikodemus—she knew it, and by now so did Magellan. He wasn’t trying to take Nikodemus anymore. He was trying to kill him.

She dove for Magellan, her vision streaking in brilliant orange and purples. Her breath caught in her lungs; she couldn’t feel her skin. Panic brought her up short, froze her with the terror of having made an error at the cost of Nikodemus’s life. Her magic couldn’t touch Magellan. All she found when she tried to enter his mind was blackness. An impenetrable veil.

She could not do to a mage what she was able to do with a fiend.

She pushed her mind, all of her self into Nikodemus and found him, joined him completely and without reservation. She didn’t care if she died keeping him from Magellan. She didn’t care what happened to her. Nikodemus left his crouch, his body flexed for a leap, but Kynan reached Magellan first, a blur of motion that wasn’t human anymore. Xia’s knife flashed once in his hand, then clattered to the pavement as Kynan went tumbling backward.

Magellan reeled as he straightened, blood pouring from a wound in his chest. His gaze found Carson, and heat seared the inside of her head. She knew Magellan. She knew his magic and that he was after her now. And she was vulnerable to him because of the fiend in her. The first of his bindings wrapped around her, slowed her mind and her will. She watched his smile spread and heard Nikodemus shout as she went under. Such despair, she thought. His love for her pierced her heart.

She was trapped in a sickly sweet coating of magic that tied her to the mage. Every particle of her being protested at the loss of her freedom. A howl scoured her throat as she realized that Magellan was binding her to him, taking her. She was going to end up mageheld because she couldn’t see how to sever herself from Magellan. Her heart froze with a brand-new fear: that, through her, Magellan would find a way to take Nikodemus.

Magellan’s mind wrapped itself around hers, bidding her to take Xia’s knife. The pain of resistance shook her body. Magellan wanted her to kill Nikodemus, and a part of her quivered with the desire to do so. She clamped down on that part of her mind, trying to wall off the compulsion the same way she walled off her mind when she wanted to keep someone out. The effort ripped at her soul. But she’d rather die than harm Nikodemus. And that, she thought, was exactly what was happening.

The blade glinted in the streetlight, a peculiar, glowing blue-gray. From the corner of her eye, she saw Kynan transform from his human body and leap at a second form. Not Magellan. Her will broke. She darted toward the knife, and immediately the pain released her. With the knife in her hand, Carson faced Nikodemus. She roared and pried her fingers open. And then she collapsed as her disobedience to Magellan began to dissolve her.

She lay on the pavement, quivering, fighting off the wave of agony working its way through her. Her lungs refused to work; drawing breath was like trying to breathe in a vacuum. Her last sight was of Nikodemus standing over Magellan. His arm held back, frozen for an exquisitely clear instant. Then he finished the arc through the chill night sky and came up for another, blood glistening on the blade. The sky turned white. No sound. No scent of blood. No color but blinding white at the very moment that she felt her life and Magellan’s end.

He didn’t feel anything from Carson, but after a moment of sheer panic he realized she was still breathing. She was the color of chalk, though. He stood up with her in his arms.

“Warlord,” Kynan said. “Get her out of here.” He glanced behind him at Magellan’s body. “I’ll clean up.”

“See you back at the ranch?” he said, sending the other fiend a mental image of how to get there. Kynan nodded, and with that, Nikodemus left.

The sun was coming up when he pulled the Mercedes behind the farmhouse. By then, Carson had recovered enough to sit up on her own, but she hadn’t said anything yet. For now, he was okay with the silence. But inside he was cold with the possibility of the damage Magellan might have done to her. He held back his connection with her because he wasn’t sure where she was, after everything that had happened, and he didn’t want to intrude or make things worse.

“How bad is it?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” she said in a croak.

He bent his head to the steering wheel. She wasn’t damaged the way Iskander had been—her mind was intact. But she wasn’t reaching out to him, and he didn’t dare check for himself. God knows humans could be even funnier about their mental privacy than their physical privacy. He took his time locking the car. If she wanted, she could go into the house by herself. He didn’t want her to, something he didn’t understand until he felt the twist of a knife in his heart when she walked away.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. “Wait up.”

She turned, and he knew right then, without anything more than looking at her face, that something was wrong. Seriously wrong. He caught up to her and put an arm around her shoulder. “Hey, Carson. What’s the matter?”

She shook her head. “Not now, okay? I just want to get inside.”

“Sure.” When they got to the kitchen, Harsh was grinding coffee beans and pulling ingredients out of the fridge. Xia had the small of his back against the kitchen counter and was staring at the table. Glaring, actually, at Kynan in his sissy Italian custom-made suit. Iskander was next to Kynan, but with eyes that were alive behind the cobalt stripes. It hit him then that every fiend in the room was bound to Carson in one way or another. Harsh. Xia. Iskander and Kynan. And him. Him, too. Maybe he didn’t need the other warlords at all. Maybe he could start his fight against the mages right here. Right now.

He threw his keys into the bowl by the door, and they all jumped like he’d set off a bomb.

“How the hell did you get all these freaks back in one piece, Harsh?” Nikodemus said. Nobody looked happy right now.

“There’s a lot of room in the back of a pickup,” Harsh said. The espresso machine whooshed, and he didn’t say anything more, or if he did, Nikodemus didn’t hear it.

“That explains the hay.” Carson picked a strand from Kynan’s hair. Nikodemus tried to catch her eye, but she avoided him. Kynan stared at Carson like she was ice cream and he was chocolate syrup.

Harsh pulled an espresso and drank the stuff straight from the little silver cups, one shot after the other. In the silence that followed while Harsh was reloading the espresso machine, Xia said, “Give me back my knife.”

Kynan turned his attention from Carson to Xia. He reached down, below the table, and came up with the knife. The blade caught the morning light and threw rainbows across Carson’s face. She blanched. If she was chalky before, now she didn’t have any color at all. Kynan balanced the point of the knife on his fingertip and smiled. “This is one hell of a blade, fiend.”

“Give it back to him, Kynan,” Nikodemus said. And Kynan, even though he was a warlord himself, did as he was told.

“It’s a good knife,” Kynan said. “It likes blood.” He flipped the knife, caught it between his thumb and forefinger, and flicked it at Xia.

Xia caught the knife without even blinking. Nobody, not even Kynan Aijan, out badassed Xia.

Carson dropped her head and held it between her hands. Nikodemus thought about a gentle mental nudge to find out if she was okay but decided he’d better not. This wasn’t like the other times he thought he’d been in love. He wouldn’t have laid down his soul for any of them. Carson was his soul, and he was intensely aware that he had the power to hurt her. And he couldn’t do that to her. “I hate that thing,” she said. “I hope I never see it again.”

In the kitchen, Harsh lined up coffee cups and scooped foamed milk into the line of cups on the counter. He had the griddle on, too. Something smelled good. Harsh brought out the first cap and gave it to Carson along with the sugar and a look at Nikodemus. “Does anybody know for sure what happened to Magellan?”

“The warlord killed him,” Kynan said with a nod at Nikodemus. He jerked his head in Xia’s direction. “With that one’s very fine blade.”

Carson’s head came up fast. Like she felt guilty about something. But what the hell did she have to feel guilty about? Hell, she’d practically saved the day all by herself.

Kynan leaned against the back of the chair, arms over his chest. His tie was hanging out of the pocket of his suit coat, but he still looked damn good. His hair was buzzed, but what he had looked to be medium brown.

“You’re sure he went down?” Iskander asked.

Harsh gave Nikodemus a perfect cap, he knew from the smell and the weight. He put another in front of Iskander and went back to the kitchen to flip pancakes. “Yes,” Kynan said. He smiled. “I burned his body to ash, so yes, I am sure Álvaro Magellan is dead.”

“How about Rasmus?” Nikodemus asked.

Iskander lifted his coffee and breathed in. “He escaped, Warlord.”

“What are we going to do about that?” Carson asked.

Xia swiveled his head to get a good look at Carson. “We?” he said. “What do
we
have to do with anything? I will find Rasmus and kill him.”

Kynan put down his cappuccino. “Who freed you, Xia?” He gave the fiend an evil-eye glare. “It wasn’t any fiend in this room. Why are you talking to her like that?”

“She’s human. She has magic.” Xia lifted his hands, fingers spread. “Therefore, she’s a witch. I don’t like humans, and I hate witches.” His lip curled. “As far as I’m concerned, we should cut her loose. One of us should have killed her when we had the chance.”

Harsh slammed down a plate of pancakes. “Funny, I don’t notice Carson forcing us to do anything, Xia. I can sure as hell remember Rasmus doing that.”

“Fuck off and die.”

Harsh shoved Xia’s chair with his foot. “No one’s keeping you here, fiend.”

“It’s a matter of time before she gives in to her natural impulse to control us.” Xia pointed at Carson. “She’s a mage. She can’t help herself.”

Interesting,
Nikodemus thought. If anything, Carson looked even more miserable now. What the hell was up with her? “Jesus, Xia,” Nikodemus said. “Doesn’t anything improve your mood? You’re fucking free. Take a minute to smell the roses, you freak.”

Harsh handed out plates. “Why? He’d only stomp on them. Carson freed him. If he still hates her, then he can go to hell. He doesn’t belong here.” Harsh sat down and stabbed his fork into the stack of pancakes and dropped them onto his plate. “Not with us.”

Carson licked her lips. “Xia is right.” Everyone looked at her. “It makes me sick,” she said. “Sick to my stomach to think about what mages do. But you know what?”

They all looked at her, spellbound even though she wasn’t doing anything but staring them down.

“Xia, you can hate whoever you like, but do it on your own time. Not ours. The same goes for you, Kynan.” Her stare pinned each of them in turn. “The only question is how many of you are loyal to Nikodemus? Because if you want even a chance at defeating the mages and getting back a few more of your own kind, then your people need him.”

He always had liked a woman who could take charge. His woman. Nikodemus leaned back and let her wail on them.

She pointed at Xia, then Kynan. “The rest of us have sworn fealty to Nikodemus. Yes, including me. If you two are going to stay, you need to do the same.” She gave Kynan and Xia a withering glare. “Your choice, but if it’s not, you need to go now. Right now.”

They were all getting juiced up, and there was something to be said for the condition. Xia cocked his head and stared hard at Carson. Carson elected to sit down and butter her pancake. Nobody said anything, and she looked at them like she didn’t get what was up. “That’s it. I’m done talking. Harsh, please pass the syrup.” Harsh passed the syrup. “Now, can we just eat like normal people, please? After that we’ll say good-bye to whoever’s going.”

For a while that’s what they did. Mostly civilized. And then the food disappeared, and the coffee was gone, and Kynan went down on a knee to Nikodemus.

“You’re a warlord, Kynan,” Nikodemus said. He was thinking maybe he’d be happier if Kynan decided to walk with Xia. “You could go out on your own if you wanted. You sure you want this?”

Kynan touched the tips of three fingers to his forehead. “I fight with you and Carson.”

He swore fealty, and then the blood exchange was done. When Kynan was back on his seat, Nikodemus stuck out his hand to Xia. “No need for you to hang around any longer. No one’s going to make you do the dishes before you go. Thanks for your help last night, and take care.”

Xia glared at him. And then he astonished everyone by going down on one knee. He swore fealty in a clear, unemotional voice. When it was done and sealed, Nikodemus said, “I’m glad to have you on our side, Xia. But if you ever touch Carson again, I’ll rip off your head. Clear?”

“Fuck you.”

“Probably never.” He looked at Kynan, too. “Same goes for you. Understand?”

“Of course.” And then, Kynan got up to help Harsh clean up in the kitchen, Iskander went upstairs, and Xia went outside to sit on the back porch, and just like magic, Carson and Nikodemus were alone.

“Carson?” he said. “Don’t you think it’s time we talked?” His chest tightened a little. “’Cause it’s driving me crazy wondering the hell is wrong.”

She came around to his chair and took his hand. She started to say something but didn’t manage to get it out. He waited. “About Magellan,” she said.

“He’s dead, Carson.” He might never forget the vicious joy he took in taking down the mage. He’d do it all over again if he could. “He’s never going to hurt you again.”

Her fingers were warm in his palm. “He had me mageheld,” she said.

“Yeah, I know.” He pulled her closer. “That’s not a feeling I ever want to have.” He reached up and thrust his fingers through her hair. “I felt it happen,” he whispered. “You were gone, and my whole life ended right there.”

“He wanted me to kill you.”

“Makes sense.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingertips. “But you didn’t.” He was starting to see the problem, and he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. He pulled her closer, but she resisted.

“Part of me wanted to.”

Nikodemus licked his lips. “That’s the way being mageheld works, Carson. The fuckers make us do things we’d never do otherwise.” He frowned and then brought her in close, whether she wanted him to or not. “There’s no way I’d blame you for anything you thought or felt while Magellan had you locked down, so if you’re worrying about that, you can stop right now.” He held her, watching her eyes. “Besides, you didn’t kill me. I saw you going for the knife, and you didn’t use it on me.”

“But I wanted to.” Tears filled her eyes.

“So fucking what? You didn’t.” He brushed away the tears. “Look, I’m no good at this emotional shit, so I’ll probably fuck this up. You’re not Magellan’s mageheld. You’re safe now, I’m safe, and that’s all that matters. That, and that I love you.”

She wasn’t calming down. “What if it happens again? What if some other mage ends up getting to you through me?”

Nikodemus pulled Carson onto his lap. “I could get run over by a Mack truck tomorrow. Or you could. Or we both could. Maybe that’s not the most romantic way to put it, but it doesn’t make sense for us to give up being happy now because something bad might happen later.” He held her so she pretty much had to look at him. “Don’t do this to us, Carson. We belong together. I belong with you.”

“Nikodemus—” She relaxed a little, and he put an arm around her and brought her into his embrace.

“I need you,” he said. “So far you haven’t given me anyone low-level. At the rate you’re going, I’m going to have a clan of nothing but warlords and psychos like Xia and Iskander. Not that I’m ungrateful, but it’s a lot of work keeping them in line.”

“You need me to run your day care, is that what you’re saying?”

“Maybe I need to clear something up,” he said.

“What?”

“For the record, Carson, in case you didn’t know, when a fiend says I love you, it means you’re the only one. It means I hope like hell you’re not going to break my heart and commit to someone else.” He brushed her hair behind her ear. “I do love you. If you leave me, I’ll never be the same.”

“No,” she said. “No. I thought maybe I was too messed up to love anybody, but Nikodemus, I don’t know. Maybe I am too messed up. I’m not normal. I never have been.”

“Like I’m Mr. Normal myself.” He laughed and kissed her shoulder. “I saw what you did tonight—last night—whenever the hell it was, and I’m alive because of it. You were his mageheld, Carson. If you’d been a normal fiend, you would have killed me. But you’re not. He couldn’t force you because he didn’t own all of you. And the part of you that was still free, which, by the way, was the mage part, kept you from offing me.” He kissed her forehead. “I love you, Carson. I love you because you’re fucked up and brave and you turn me on. Now, do I have to say it for you?”