Naughty Karma

vulnerable souls over a millennia of double-edged contracts, it poured along the cable, into Prometheus’s spark. That sliver of him swelled, gorging on the feast of energy, growing until it was the perfect puzzle piece again, then continuing to grow, feeding. The devil tried to cut the cable, struggling to be free, but Karma wasn’t feeling merciful. She left the she-devil with as much energy as the bitch had left Prometheus. Just a spark. And she buried that spark beneath layers of silver nets, blankets of them. Then she, Karma, snapped the cable with a final promise. “You will never touch him again.”

There was no response. There wasn’t enough of Deuma left to respond. Karma didn’t care. She was power—and so was her lover. With the wellspring free and the riot of energy flowing through her, returning them to their bodies was the work of a thought.

Karma gasped in a breath, feeling like she’d been underwater a hundred years. Sprawled on the floor beside her, she heard Prometheus do the same. He’s alive.

“Madre de Dios, ellos viven. They’re alive. They woke up. I’ll call you back.” Rodriguez came into her field of vision, swearing in Spanish. “You were dead,” he said when he was capable of English again. “First him, then you. You stopped breathing. You fell over dead. What the fuck?” His accent thickened the words and then he fell into Spanish again.

Her body felt thick and slow after the faster-than-thought lightness of the netherplane and she was so exhausted she could barely form a thought. Then a hand brushed hers, long fingers seeking, and a swell of relief broke over her. Prometheus. Karma turned her head to find those black hole eyes looking back at her—but they weren’t pure black anymore. It was small, and if she’d been farther than a few inches away she might not have seen it, but now there was another aspect to the darkness of his gaze. A star. A small, white, spark of a star.

He blurred as tears flooded her eyes. He looked pretty damn amazing for a dead man. “Hi,” she whispered.

His brow furrowed. “What happened? Are you all right?”

Karma swallowed thickly and smiled. “I’m amazing. You’re alive.”

“You were dead,” Rodriguez snapped, reminding them that they weren’t alone. “You both were.”

Prometheus sat up, groaning, and the two men helped Karma do the same. “How long?” she asked her exorcist.

“A minute, maybe two. I couldn’t remember the CPR so I called Brittany. Longest goddamn minute of my life.”

Karma smiled wryly. “Mine too.”

Prometheus put an arm around her shoulders and she sagged against him.

Rodriguez’s next words were cautious. “Ah, Karma? Did you know you guys are glowing?”

She looked down at her hands. So they were. She could feel her magic shining through her veins. She’d have to learn how to rein that in or she’d freak people out in the supermarket. Prometheus could probably teach her. He was already dialing down his own glow, now that Rodriguez had mentioned it. She felt the wild, extravagant tangle of his power pulling in and dialing down until it was just a lingering hum beneath his skin. She still had a lot to learn about being a demigod—if that was what they were now.

But all that could wait for later. She laid her head on Prometheus’s chest and closed her eyes, hearing the slow steady beat of a heart. Strong and constant. Mine.

Chapter Thirty-One Drugging the In-Laws

“Relax. They’re going to love you.”

“You should have let me bespell the wine with adore-me-approve-of-me charms.”

“Under no circumstances are we bespelling my parents to trick them into liking you.”

“We would drink it too. Think of it as an icebreaker.”

“Prometheus.”

He let it drop, returning to hover over the vegetarian chili he’d whipped up since Karma’s mother didn’t eat meat. Maybe he could sneak a little acceptance magic into the pot while Karma wasn’t looking. He’d never met parents before, but he was certain he wasn’t what anyone wanted near their darling daughters. Especially fathers with law enforcement backgrounds. There was a reasonable chance he was bulletproof after all Deuma’s magic had been pumped into his system, but Prometheus would rather not put it to the test tonight.

He didn’t remember anything after the world went white. No afterlife memories for him. One minute he was staring death in the face and the next his heart was beating in his chest for the first time in nearly twenty years. Karma said she wasn’t sure herself how he’d gotten his heart back, that she’d been wholly focused on stripping Deuma of her powers and funneling them back into him, but somehow she’d done it. Fitting, he supposed, that she’d saved his heart, since it was hers anyway.

It was still a little disorienting, being in love, but he figured he would apply the same ruthless determination to making her happy that he’d brought to everything else in his life and it would work out.

She came up behind him, looping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek on his shoulder. “They really are going to love you. I love you.”

Just words. He’d never put much stock in words, but those three words held a weight and magic all their own. They made him hers. They coated his fragile, newly restored heart in the protective steel of her love. She made him safe and he made her free. Magic.

Karma squeezed his waist. “If conversation lags, I can always ask my mom about my biological father. That should liven things up.”

He turned, tucking her against his chest and inhaling ginger and jasmine. She put her ear over his heart—it had been two weeks, but neither of them could seem to get used to the sound of it. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“I’m sure. I’m not afraid of knowing who I am anymore.”

“You’re the same Karma you’ve always been. A demigod among mortals.”

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t mean that as a metaphor?”

“Maybe I don’t. What are gods anyway except those who create life and isn’t that what you did to me? Brought me back to life? Made my heart beat? For all we know you made me immortal.”

“Don’t go testing your immortality anytime soon, okay? I don’t think I can take it.”

“I won’t.” He had too much to live for.

He traced a path down his favorite spot at the back of her neck, savoring the silken softness of her skin and the barely audible catch in her breath. Tipping her chin up, he laid a kiss on the mouth of the woman who made his heart beat, who had flown in the teeth of her fears and thrown herself into the chaos of her powers to save him. He pressed his magic against her skin, the answering flare of her own heating his blood. He fed his reaction along the tether that had connected them ever since he woke up on the floor of her office, and she moaned.

She pulled away. “You only want me for my magic.”

He caught her wrist, tugged her back. “Maybe,” he teased, pulling her in for another kiss that left them both breathless when she finally broke away.

“My parents are in the parking lot.”

“Then I guess I’d better be good.” He forced himself to release her and turned to check the chili for the millionth time.

“Don’t bother being good. Just be you. They will love you.”

“The more you say it, the less I think you believe it, sweetheart.”

“I don’t have to believe it. I’ve seen it.”

He looked over his shoulder at her, frowning. “You had a vision about tonight?”

She flashed him a smile. “Trust me. They love you.”

“Are you lying to me?”

“Would I lie?”