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NINE

Ruse

After stopping for gas just before we reached the Italian border, Omen took over the driver’s seat in the Everymobile. I appreciated the release from that duty, especially since the RV had taken to randomly flashing its blinkers in time with the bells that were dinging through the rumble of the engine. Sinking into the smooth leather padding of the sofa, I got out my phone.

Sorsha sashayed over a moment later with a grin. “Any more dirt from our new hacker associate?” she asked, hopping up to sit on the table with her legs dangling.

She’d had a more buoyant energy to her since she’d come back from the search of Paris’s tunnels with her latest brilliant idea. I liked seeing her lit up like this, but at times it seemed almost frenetic, as if she were racing along to stay a step or two ahead of some deeper anxiety.

I also hadn’t been able to help noticing that when she’d returned all energized, the smoky smell clinging to her skin hadn’t been just her natural fiery scent but a tang of brimstone that belonged to the hellhound shifter as well. How much was she buoyed by her new brainstorm, and how much by whatever the two of them had gotten up to after they must have made their peace?

It was bad enough being an incubus in love without getting jealous about my lover’s other partners. Darkness forbid she ever asked for a count of how many women I’d gotten it on with over the centuries. But somehow knowing she’d been hooking up with Omen—and was clearly happy about how that had gone down—rubbed up against other anxieties of my own that had been gnawing at me.

“He hasn’t come up with much in the past few hours, but being mortal, he does need to sleep occasionally,” I said. “Now that we’ve determined there’s significantly more Company activity happening in Rome than anywhere else on this side of the ocean, he’ll be checking for more distinctive patterns there. We’ll narrow in on family and friends soon enough.”

Sorsha sighed, the swing of her legs slowing. “Of course, it’ll only work if the Company employees have been allowed at least a little contact with the people they care about outside. Their boss—the mortal one or Tempest—might have them under a total communications lockdown too.”

I gave her thigh a light squeeze. “Then you’ll come up with some other brilliant plan. You’ve been pulling out the inspiration as fast as your flames.”

The Everymobile chose that moment to hiccup, a little lurch vibrating through the entire frame. Sorsha had to grip the edge of the table to keep her balance. Then, like actual hiccups, the RV hitched again. Up at the front, Omen let out a growl of frustration.

“I’m starting to think taking ‘Darlene’ through a rift wasn’t such a great idea,” I said, just loud enough to make sure he’d hear me.

Sorsha laughed, broken by another tiny lurch. “She isn’t quite the same as she used to be, that’s for sure. How do you figure we cure vehicular hiccups? Give her a glass of water? Jump out in front of her to scare her out of it?”

“Well, we did just fill her up with her liquid of choice, so I’m guessing that won’t do it.” I chuckled along with her for a moment until the fact that I honestly had no idea what to do about our transportation issues or much of anything else clouded over my good humor.

I tried to keep my smirk from faltering, but Sorsha quieted too, her gaze lingering on my face. She slipped off the table, caught my hand, and tugged me toward her bedroom. “Come here a moment.”

Ready for more action, was she? My own desires woke up as I followed her down the hall. But even the familiar sensation of lust—and the less-so sensation of a sweeter affection—didn’t offer much of a balm to my restless thoughts.

In bits and pieces, the others had laid out their encounter with Tempest for me. All the sphinx’s haughty remarks and dismissals of their concerns—and her accusation that they’d forgotten their monstrous natures. She hadn’t levied that charge at me, but merely because I hadn’t been there, I had to assume. The moment Snap had mentioned it with a pained twist of his mouth, I’d felt it like a jab to the gut.

Had I really fallen for Sorsha in defiance of my promiscuous inclinations? Or… had some subtler aspect of my powers simply recognized what a blessing it’d be to have an easy source of nourishment at my side for all time?

She’d been the first mortal—or semi-mortal, at least—to accept me for all I was. I could sate my hunger for pleasure night after night without needing the slightest supernatural seduction. In many ways, it was incredibly convenient that I’d found myself longing for a relationship of more commitment with her.

Did I love her, or was convincing myself that I did the biggest con I’d ever pulled yet, this time on myself?

I didn’t want to look all that closely at that question. And showing Sorsha a good time of the intimate variety was the one thing I absolutely could do beyond a doubt. So if she wanted that from me, I’d damn well deliver it.

“I hope you know I’d intend to make this last for more than a moment ,” I teased as she shut the bedroom door behind us. “I do have a reputation to uphold.”

She poked me in the chest. “I didn’t bring you in here for a ravishing, although I won’t necessarily say no to that once we’re done talking. What’s up with you? You’ve seemed a little out of sorts since we started this trip.”

My lover was far too perceptive. I gave a quick laugh and attempted to turn the conversation around. “Have I not been attentive enough, Miss Blaze?”

Sorsha poked me again with an expression that brooked no arguments or foolishness. “You’ve been perfectly adoring, as I think you know. But we’ve spent enough time together that I can tell when you’re not your usual carefree self, Mr. Charm. I’ve opened every part of me up to you. Don’t you know by now that I’m not going to judge whatever it is that’s bothering you?”

A particularly unfamiliar pang of guilt struck me with that question. Our mortal had opened herself up—had given me permission to read her mental state even though she’d had a terrible experience with another shadowkind manipulating her mind as a child. She’d said she loved me, and she didn’t have any supernatural hunger to give her an ulterior motive.

She’d believed in me, and I’d better get into the habit of believing in her, or I’d lose her regardless of my own motivations.

I tugged her into my arms and ducked my head next to hers. She smelled only like herself now, fiercely sweet. Whatever else might be going on inside me, there was no denying that the feel of her against me released some of the tension in my chest.

“Ruse,” she prodded, but her tone had gentled. I could bring that out in her too—the tenderness that complemented her fire so well.

“Omen dragged you off,” I said. “He might have thrown you to the Highest to be killed. And there was nothing at all I could do to stop him or to help you. Thorn and Snap got right on the case—hell, even the imp might have contributed something, whether it worked out or not.”

“You’ve helped with plenty of other things. Not everyone’s talents are going to fit every problem.”

“You’re the most important thing I’ve had in my life since… since ever.” As I found the words, the truth of that statement cut through me, sharply poignant. Maybe I should have been reassured to put one doubt to rest, but the certainty that my feelings were real only brought my failure into harsher relief. “If I can’t do a thing to protect you when your entire existence is on the line, how in the realms could I possibly deserve you?”

Sorsha made a strangled sound and turned in my arms to meet my gaze. She touched my face, her thumb stroking over my cheek, and thanks to this miraculous love I’d found myself capable of, that touch sparked more warmth than I’d ever found in clinching genitals with those untold numbers of other women.

“You know I don’t blame you for not throwing yourself in front of the hellhound’s jaws, right?” she said. “There wasn’t a single moment when Omen had me locked up that I thought to myself, ‘Gosh, where is that incubus? He should have rescued me by now.’”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have been thinking it,” I muttered.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be looking at it that way. I don’t think love is supposed to be some kind of transaction where you earn enough points to ‘deserve’ someone. If it was… how the hell would I deserve any of you? For all we know, I’m going to explode in a ball of flame at any moment and take you all down with me.”

She spoke flippantly, but I caught enough strain in her voice to know that wasn’t a totally imaginary fear. Tempest had stirred up doubts in her too. She was worried she might hurt us.

I kissed her temple. “ I know that’s not going to happen. So does everyone else, including Omen, despite his momentary lapse in judgment. If a tiny bit of fire scalds us now and then, we’re a pretty resilient lot. And some types of burning are very enjoyable.”

Sorsha hummed as if she didn’t quite accept my argument but didn’t feel like pushing the matter. “That’s not the point. I’ve decided you deserve me. I want you in my life for all the wonderful things you do bring into it. And you’d better not be telling me I don’t get to make my own decisions.”

The corner of my lips quirked up before I could stop it. Our mortal did have her own knack for persuasion. “Woe betide anyone who attempts that.” Maybe her proclamation didn’t ease my guilt completely, but maybe I should never have been letting that guilt interfere with what we had in the first place. If what I could offer was enough for her, then whether it was enough for me was only a problem between me and myself.

“I suppose I’ll be forever wondering how I managed to con you into making that decision,” I added, lightly enough to show it was a joke.

Sorsha rolled her eyes at me and did a little shimmy against me with a lilt of her mixed-up lyrics. “Oh, I, I just glide to your charm, all right? It must have clean gone to my head.”

I caught her jaw and drew her so close my nose brushed hers. “I’ll show you a lot more than charm,” I said, one promise I knew I could make good on, and captured her lips.

Why shouldn’t this be enough? Making her laugh, making her sigh with pleasure… I did have talents none of our other companions possessed.

I kissed her harder and lowered her onto the bed. Her fingers slid down my chest while the other hand hooked around one of my horns in that way that sent an electric thrill over my skin. I was just easing up her shirt when a tiny scaly body wriggled its way between us as if attempting to join what he saw as a cuddle fest.

“Pickle!” Sorsha protested with a snicker, scooping her hand around the little dragon. Her shadowkind pet let out an indignant chirp. “Have I been neglecting you? I promise you’ll have my full attention after I finish this… conversation with Ruse.” As she got up to see him out the door, she shot me an amused look. “Sorry. I didn’t realize he was in here.”

“So much competition for your affection these days,” I teased.

“Good thing I have so much to go around.” She nudged me back down on the bed, leaning over me, and then paused. “There are different ways of saving someone, you know. Maybe duels to the death aren’t your forte, but so many times you’ve bolstered my spirits when that was what I really needed. I know I can always count on you.”

“Sorsha,” I said, filled with more emotion than I was prepared to navigate. Getting back to kissing seemed like the simplest way to show her. But before I could bring her mouth to mine, we were interrupted again, this time by the chime of her phone.

Sorsha groaned, but she grabbed her purse. So few people called her that it was likely to be important. Her stance stiffened at the sight of the call display.

“It’s Vivi. I’ve already put her off twice in the last few days.”

The hesitation in her voice pricked at me. The woman she was avoiding had once been her best friend—I recalled the fondness her voice used to hold when talking about or to Vivi. But the longer she’d spent with us, the more she’d withdrawn. Was there anyone from her life before meeting us that she hadn’t pulled away from?

If she was worried about hurting us in our semi-immortal state, how scared must she be when it came to people like Vivi? Did she think putting distance between her and them was the only way she could save them… from herself?

It wasn’t right for her fears to separate her from the people she’d cared about and who’d cared about her before all this had come to light. Our mortal might be more shadowkind than she’d ever suspected, but that shouldn’t mean she didn’t deserve human friendship. Perhaps she needed a reminder of that to calm those fears—a chance to talk to someone who could speak to her non-monstrous side for once.

I sat up next to her and kissed her cheek. “Answer it. I can wait, and you know I can share.”

Sorsha drew in a breath and nodded. She hit the answer button. “Hey, Vivi! I know, I know. Things have been crazy, but—I’m sorry.”

I propped myself against her pillow, watching the tentative smile cross her lips at her best friend’s banter. A deeper contentment than I’d felt in days settled over me.

I’d done at least one thing right here. Perhaps I should remember what she’d said about there being different ways of saving. The ways I could protect Sorsha didn’t look anything like Thorn’s warrior strength, but that didn’t have to mean they mattered so much less, as long as I spotted those opportunities when they came.