Devil's Punch

wards.

Traitor. The word whispered in my head, even as the guests screamed and fled. A panicked Noit tripped a Luren female in a lavish gown, which tangled about her graceful feet. She fell to her knees and a shade consumed her. Her ivory flesh went blue and then crackled with ice. Soon, it shriveled and went dry like a husk, and when the shade drifted on, it had gained form and solidity. Across the room, an Aronesti took flight, sailing above the crowd toward the doors. A shade rose and swallowed the demon. First came the muffled screaming, and then silence, which was worse.

Quickly I cast to counter the freezing fog, making it harder for the shades to find living bodies to drain. Even demons lived; these creatures did not. They came from someplace darker and colder than Sheol, and that sent a chill straight through my body. The shades were new monsters, ones with which my pitiful human half had more experience than I. The Saremon had sent them; of that I had no doubt.

Warm steam filled the room, confusing the shades. Darkness swirled amid the white, steamy bursts. The guests fought one another to reach the exits, maddened by danger and terror, skills and magick made unreliable by too much liquor. Across the room, Greydusk huddled protectively over Shannon, fighting toward the doors. His body rippled, and then shifted; the Swordwraith took his place, and he threshed the girl clear. My last sight of them came when she turned to lift her chin at me, an acknowledgment that she was safe; then Greydusk changed back and led her away.

“I’m getting you out of here,” Chance said.

I was torn. It would send a stronger message if I stayed and fought, but I already had several caste knights, including Heartsblood and Zet, and my Hazo guards battling the invading spirits. Staying meant risking everything for pride. While I weighed the factors, he took the decision from me. He swept me into his arms and pushed toward the exit. The Hazo saw the consort coming and cleared a path with their magickal axes; they didn’t seem to care who got in the way of their swings, and at the moment neither did I.

Someone had betrayed me. There was no other explanation.

I couldn’t count this, definitively, as an assassination attempt. Instead, it acted to shake my people’s faith in my ability to govern, since I couldn’t even keep my own perimeter secure. Really, it was a brilliant first maneuver in a guerilla campaign against me. I admired the executor, even as I considered the best way to eliminate him. I had to find Oz. And kill him.

Kiss Me Like You Mean It

In my chamber, I activated the preventive wards on the doors. They’d fry anyone who attempted to pass through without my permission. Butch raised his head and stared at the crackling gold energy and then yapped at me as if in question.

To my surprise, I answered. “It’s a mess downstairs, but we’re safe in here.”

That seemed to be enough reassurance. He went back to sleep.

The next thing I knew, Chance was kissing me, passionately, furiously. He drew me against him, hard, his whole body shaking. For a few delicious seconds, I fell into his need, before setting my hands against his chest.

“Flattering, my darling, but this isn’t the time. We must—”

“You must stay safe.”

Ah. The imperative to protect must be overwhelming him with sexual instincts. The Hazo, if chosen as consorts, were prone to such behavior. How interesting—a male as beautiful and elegant as Chance shared those primitive urges.

“Please,” he whispered, pressing hot kisses down my throat. “Greydusk will alert us when the danger’s passed.”

“And you propose we make love while monsters run amok in my demesne?”

“Better than fiddling while Rome burns.”

“But not by much,” I said softly, stepping away.

A visible tremor shook him and he turned to brace his forearm against the ornate carved bedpost. He dropped his face against his arm and compassion sparked, a foreign instinct. For the first time, I saw what I was doing to him. I touched him lightly between the shoulder blades.

“Is it bad?”

He exhaled. “Yes. You consume me. I exist for you…and I don’t even know who the hell you are. Not Corine, that’s for damn sure.”

“I was Corine. And I was Ninlil. Now I encompass us both, although not comfortably so. Does it trouble you?” I hadn’t given any thought to his feelings or his state of mind as I went about my business. That wasn’t the unusual bit; the odd aspect of this conversation was that we were having it at all.

“It did. Not so much anymore. And that bothers me.”

“Because you don’t loathe me? In your heart, you told yourself that you love her, not me—that you could esteem nothing in a creature like me.”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“And now?” His reply mattered.

“You know the answer.” His face grew taut and desperate. He didn’t want to speak it aloud.

“Give me a truthful response and we’ll go to bed.” Manipulative, certainly.

“I love you,” he bit out. “You’re the same to me. These days I don’t care who I’m talking to, whether you’re fierce, ambitious, and powerful, or sweet and soft. I love both sides, and I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“You love me?” Shock reverberated through me. Consorts did not love the queen; they submitted to her will. They obeyed. They hoped for favor.

But love? Never.

Until now.

“Awfully,” he said. “Endlessly. It’s a torment.”

My heart shifted. Softened. The human woman pushed, pushed, until she surged forth, spinning me away.

“Chance, it’s me.” I touched his cheeks with my fingertips. “I’m still in here. Just…she doesn’t let me drive very often.”

“Corine?” His desperate happiness sparkled like polished diamonds.

“I’m here. I love you.”

“Thank God.”

Before I could savor his mouth on mine, she shoved me back. This wasn’t union. It was a revolving door. Not what she’d promised.

The other banished, I stripped him from his clever tailored suit and he tore away the layers of my gown with its spell-enhanced fabric. Once it came down to skin, we weren’t gentle. Primal impulses drove him, and I fed that fire with uninhibited response.

Chance kissed me again and again, his hands frantic on my body. He backed me up, one hand curled around my head. Each step pressed us closer with a tantalizing friction. His hard heat drove me wild.

“Not the bed,” he growled. “Like we almost did it in Kilmer.”

A swirl of memory eluded me and then firmed. Held. Chance backed me into the bathroom, spun me, and pressed me up against the bathroom door. I felt every inch of my nakedness in contrast to his sleekly clothed muscles. He’d grown even harder since I left. When his mouth took mine, he didn’t ask if I wanted it, or if I’d permit it. Heat sparked between us like two live wires and I came up on my toes.

The wall felt cool against my back when he pressed me against it this time, but I was different now. I was done turning him away. He was mine, and I’d never let him go. I curled a thigh around his hip, then he lifted me. In his ferocity, he was a selfish lover, hard hands on my hips, working in mad, deep thrusts.

I urged him on with nails in his shoulder. In this position, I couldn’t move much. He was in control. He liked domination when the protective urge rose—and submission when it didn’t. In turn, I enjoyed him tied to my bed, but I also enjoyed the rare sense that I’d lost control.