Page 16

Kara’s back-up car was an Aston Martin Vantage in gun-metal gray, sleek and powerful, and she drove it fast.

I gripped the edge of the seat and tried not to wince with each new bend.

She glanced at me. “Oh, do grow up. I’ve been driving for twenty-five years.”

“You’re a lot more durable than I am.”

She huffed, seeming to take it as a challenge, and accelerated. The lateral G-forces in the next bend had me reaching for the grab handle above the door.

“And we’re tired,” I added, as she crossed a solid yellow line to overtake a box truck that was moving too slow for her. “Did you even sleep while you waited outside my door last night?”

“This is how I drive.”

Right.

We raced through the roads in the hills above New Providence, the city stretching out before us. None of the buildings looked like they’d recently been on fire. From this distance, it all seemed perfectly peaceful.

She slowed—a little—as we hit the outskirts, the late hour keeping the streets relatively free.

“Don’t you ever get speeding tickets?”

“Not really. My father contributes generously to the annual police ball.”

“Glad to hear capitalism is alive and well.”

Kara’s apartment block was in Downtown Providence, a thirty-story skyscraper with an underground parking garage. The shutter rolled up at the push of a button on a remote she had in the center console, and we drove in.

She led me to a private elevator, and punched the top button.

“Penthouse?”

“Natch.”

“I don’t get why you even bothered with the uni.”

Kara shrugged. “Like I told you, it was a mistake. But you get so bored, you know? It’s not like I need to work.”

She lived in a world so different to mine, but I could almost sympathize with her position. It couldn’t have been easy, born with a platinum spoon in her mouth, to parents like that.

“Do you have brothers? Sisters? Wider family?”

“Demons don’t have a lot of kids. House Val’Shera is quite large … the wider family … but only because everyone lives for ages. No, no siblings.”

“What do you all do when you’re not descending on the gothic house of grimness for family barbecues?”

“Manage our various businesses, play politics.” She gave me a side glance. “Bribe the police.”

“No urge to work up the corporate ladder in whatever dodgy schemes your father runs?”

“Finance,” she said, like it tasted foul. “We shuffle numbers and pretend it’s not crime. I’ve just never liked math.”

“So we do have something in common after all.”

The elevator gave a happy ding of accomplishment, the doors opening to reveal yet more marble, though this time in white. It was a refreshing change after her parent’s house.

Kara opened a door, leading me through a well-appointed, open-plan living space with floor-to-ceiling windows and dramatic views of the city.

Two cream leather sofas around an art-deco coffee table, a massive TV mounted on the wall, a dining area off to one side.

No pictures on the walls, not much in the way of accoutrements. Like no one really lived here.

I followed her past a kitchen with all the mod cons that looked too clean to have ever been used, the fridge humming quietly.

Another door stood partway open—a second bedroom done up as a home gym: a treadmill, some weights, a rowing machine.

We reached her bedroom before I’d realized it.

I stopped at the threshold, catching the faint trace of jasmine in the air, and rubbed a hand over the back of my neck.

“I’ll sleep on one of your sofas.” At this point, I was so tired I didn’t care where I slept—so long as it wasn’t in her bed.

She propped herself up on her dresser, her back to me, ass jutting out as she slipped off her heels. “I’m going to take a shower,” she said like I hadn’t spoken. “It’s only been a couple of hours since my last one, but I really feel a need to wash off my parents.”

I got the gist, even if the turn of phrase wouldn’t have been my choice.

She glanced over her shoulder at me. “Unzip me please?”

“Er … Sure.”

It was a fair walk across the cream carpet to reach her—the bedroom expansive, a dozen feet around every part of her very large bed. Back in my apartment, now a burned-out shell, the bed had been jammed against the wall.

The zip blended in, hidden by a fold of velvet. I wouldn’t have noticed it if she hadn’t asked. My fingertips brushed her bare shoulder as I worked it free. Once I had, it slid down easily enough, and kept going. And going.

Maybe I should’ve stopped before I reached the top of her ass—she could’ve done that last bit herself. But I didn’t, fascinated both by the sensuous satisfaction of the zip’s glide and by the flawless, honey skin I was revealing.

She wasn’t wearing any underwear. No bra straps, no panties resting daintily when the zip finally stopped. Just the curve of her cheeks and a hint of the crack, smooth and alluring.

I cleared my throat and stepped away. “I think that got it.”

“Thank you,” she said, walking toward her en suite without looking back. She pushed the dress off her shoulders as she went and it fell another inch or two, giving more than a glimpse of that ass. Then she disappeared around the corner.

Right. That happened.

I walked back into the living room and killed the lights, letting the city’s glow through the windows suffice.

Then I chose a sofa, kicked off my shoes and lay down.

Despite being November and her apartment unoccupied for who knows how long, the heating was on and it wasn’t cold.

I didn’t feel a need for a blanket, the sofa was long and wide, firm but yielding, and there were cushions for pillows.

I could sleep on a floor quite comfortably, so this would do just fine.

It was quiet enough to hear the sound of her shower running. Probably because the doors were open.

Didn’t mean anything. It was her apartment, after all. She could do what she wanted.

Tomorrow, I’d go buy some clothes. Everything I had was gone, but I really only missed my guitar. Even the clothes I wore were her family’s. All I had left was my phone and a debit card, but that was enough.

Then I’d have to deal with Dacien’s manila folder, innocently resting on the other sofa a few feet away, where I’d tossed it as we came in. Tormenting me with its inevitability.

I threw a cushion to cover it so I wouldn’t have to see it anymore, but the cushion hit the edge of the sofa and fell to the floor.

Kara’s shower stopped, which was a relief. Maybe it would let me think about something else. Then her hair dryer started.

I threw an arm over my head, the city lights too bright after all, but I couldn’t be bothered to get up and figure out her blinds. Lay there a while, thinking about the last twenty four hours.

“Are you coming to bed?”

She’d come in silently, bare feet on thick carpets. I pulled my arm away and looked up at her. She was wearing a short cream kimono that rode the line between clothing and suggestion, two overlapping sides, tied with a sash around her narrow waist. Her black hair hung loose, freshly brushed out.

There were a lot of good answers to her question. I settled on, “Pardon?”

“Are you coming to bed, Master?”

It sounded even worse with that addition.

“I’m fine here,” I said. “Thank you, though.” Thank you, though? Smooth. Real smooth.

“It’s easily big enough for both of us, and you’ll be here awhile. Wouldn’t it make more sense than the sofa?”

Yes, yes it would. For all the wrong reasons.

“I … I don’t even have pyjamas.” Pyjamas? I mean, seriously, fuck me. Had my brain trickled out of my ears?

“I don’t wear them either.”

Great. I didn’t need that visual.

She chewed her lip, the silence stretching awkwardly. “You sleep in boxers, don’t you? That would be fine. I don’t mind.”

I cleared my throat. “Er … don’t have those either, actually. It wasn’t a clothing option in the wardrobe back at your parent’s house.” After my shower, I’d opted to go commando rather than put on dirty clothes.

“Oh,” she said. “Um … I don’t mind.”

I threw my arm back over my face. “Go to bed, Kara.”

“Yes, Master.”

I didn’t hear her walk away, but I didn’t need to look to know she’d gone.

Funny how silence could be louder than screaming.

*

Sunlight through the windows woke me, orange on Kara’s cream walls, like fire.

I started, alert in an instant, awash with adrenaline before I realized I wasn’t about to be burned to death.

No getting back to sleep now.

My phone said it was 7:22 AM. Time to get up anyway.

Kara’s bedroom door was closed, and there were no sounds within. There was another bathroom in addition to her en suite, and I took a long shower, then grimaced as I pulled on yesterday’s clothes.

She was in the kitchen when I walked out, sitting at the island on a breakfast stool in her silk kimono, sipping coffee.

She didn’t look up from her phone. “There’s no milk, but you take it black anyway, right?”

The temperature dropped a few degrees at her tone.

“Right,” I said, drawing out the word. A pot of drip coffee sat on the hot plate, and I filled myself a cup without further reaction from Kara. I took my espresso black and cream the rest of the time, but it was obvious there was nothing fresh in Kara’s kitchen.

I leaned against the counter while I sipped, observing the tightness of her shoulders.

“Sleep well?”

“Yes.”

Good.

“I thought I’d go and buy some clothes this morning.”

No response.

“Well, I’ll … er … see you later.”

Still no response. I set my nearly full cup on the side and went for the door.

I found a café for breakfast, having eaten basically nothing since lunch the day before in the uni canteen, save for one bite at ‘dinner’ with Kara’s parents.

It was Sunday and some shops were closed, but I spent a couple of hours in a department store restocking on jeans, T-shirts and essentials, a couple of tops, a field jacket, boots, and a backpack to hold it all.

Minimalist, but I wasn’t about to ask Kara for a drawer.

Walking past the TVs, they were all showing the news, with New Providence Bay Uni on every screen.

I paused, seeing the devastation from the perspective of the circling helicopter, unable to hear the voice-over, but the visuals spoke for themselves.

The main uni buildings hadn’t fared as badly as I thought, but two in three of the ones around the green were now burned-out shells.

We’d been lucky that the bar hadn’t been hit, but none of those still standing were apartment blocks.

They’d gone for kills.

The view switched back to the studio, the anchor speaking against a background of the university logo. I stepped closer to the nearest TV, cranking the volume a notch or two.

“—Expressed outrage at what many are calling a ‘failure in coordination’ that contributed to both the loss of life and widespread panic. SPAR’s oversight of supernatural threats has long been the subject of scrutiny, but this tragedy has intensified calls for reform, particularly among the norm community.

“The confirmed death toll now stands at over six hundred, raising further questions about SPAR’s delayed response. In the aftermath of the attack, university leadership is now facing—”

I killed the sound, having heard enough, and turned away.

My stomach churned, even as I heard the echo of Kara’s voice telling me it wasn’t my fault.

I cared less for the supes that should never have been there, but the dead students weighed on me heavily as I trudged back to Kara’s apartment block.

Only as I drew nearer did I realize I had no way back in.

I reached for my phone to call her, but paused the motion halfway as I didn’t even have her number.

The front entrance was simple enough, with a revolving door, but that only dropped me into the lobby—sleek and modern, with polished floors, a few potted plants, and a gentle panpipe cover butchering a well-known song.

A security guard just inside eyeballed my brand-new clothing and backpack, decided I was obviously in the wrong place, and stepped forward with his hand raised.

It took a call up to Kara to resolve the situation—a tense one, judging by the expression of the concierge and the way he held the receiver a half-inch from his ear.

The security guard escorted me to the elevator, punched in the code and hit the button, then left me to it.

A minute later, it opened to a thunderous-looking Kara, still dressed in her kimono.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

I blinked. “Er … shopping?”

“You’ve been four hours!”

I raised an eyebrow. “I missed you too, dear.”

She gave me a glare, following me into the living room where I dropped off my backpack while she stood with her arms crossed and one hip cocked, radiating hell hath no fury.

“How many times have I told you how uncomfortable it is to be away from you, Master ?”

Hmm. The venom was back on that word.

“You could’ve come,” I said, flopping down on the sofa. “I did suggest it.”

“No, you didn’t.”

I shrugged. I may not have , but she hadn’t been paying attention anyway. “You were on your phone.”

“I was reading the news! That’s no excuse!”

“Enough.” I raised a hand. “I went out and bought some clothes. I’m not sixteen, and you’re not my parent. Don’t act like it.”

If her scowl had been any more intense, her lips would’ve disappeared completely. She spun on her heel, the back of her silk kimono bouncing dangerously as she flounced off.

I sighed, shaking my head, images of putting her across my knee returning. Partly her attitude, partly that damn kimono, and the way it rose at all the wrong moments. Did she know? Was that why she was wearing it?

Inviting me to share her bed. Blowing hot one moment, cold the next, and very, very occasionally, warm.

Was this the bond messing with her, or had something changed?

Had she forgotten that she hated me, or had that somehow changed too?

A lot to ask in the space of forty-eight hours, no matter that we’d been through some intense moments together.

I sighed again, eyeing the manila folder that still sat on the opposite sofa, the cushion on the floor beside it. Still unopened. Still a problem.

Pushing myself up, I retrieved the damn thing and dropped back into my seat.

I didn’t have anything better to do.