Heir of the Dog Read online

  I studied him. “If this is about us, dinner is cancelled and your check will be in the mail tomorrow along with an amendment to my statement corroborated by Davis.”

  Shaw clamped his wide palm on the back of his neck. “This is serious, Thierry.”

  “Fine.” I passed him the beer to free up a hand while I dug the keys out of my pants pocket. “Ten minutes.”

  “Share your pizza,” he offered, “and I’ll pay for it.”

  “You can talk and eat that fast?” I accepted his nod as a challenge. “Deal.”

  Bent over the greasy box, he inhaled. “Pepperoni and onion?”

  “With three cheeses.” I twisted my key. “Come on in.”

  Shaw stood on the threshold with an odd expression in place.

  “I give up.” I swept my gaze around the room. “What are we looking at?”

  “Nothing.” He stepped inside and turned a slow circle. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

  Our mismatched furnishings consisted of cherry blossom hand-me-downs from Mai’s sisters and cow skull accents from Mom’s Gothic Western period. Our theme was a little something I called love blossoms in the desert.

  “It’s home.” I led him toward the couch and unloaded the pizza from my arms onto the coffee table. I set the ginger beer on top to make sure he didn’t start without me then went to scrub the hob cooties off my hands in the sink. “Mai will be home soon. If you want to keep this private, you better start talking.”

  He plopped onto the couch, opened a bottle of beer with his keychain and set it on a coaster two feet down the table. “Fair enough.”

  He didn’t make another peep while I dried my hands and grabbed extra paper towels and two plates. I dropped onto the cushion beside him, moved the case of beer and plated us two slices each. One look at his grave expression, and I forced the open beer on him. He looked like he could use a drink, even if this brand was nonalcoholic.

  Fae like us rarely drank the hard stuff. Lowered inhibitions mixed with our lethal powers made for a dangerous cocktail. I murmured appreciatively when he cracked one open for me. Sometimes it was nice having a man around the house. Or his bottle opener at least.

  “When I left,” he began in a subdued voice, “it wasn’t for the reason you think.”

  I bit into a slice, not regretting the charge for extra toppings at all. “Oh?”

  He sat there holding the bottle, peeling the damp label with his thumb. “I’m dying.”

  A shocked gasp sucked the pizza down my throat, and I choked until my eyes watered and I coughed up the murderous slice of pepperoni clogging my windpipe. “What?” I wheezed.

  Concern knitted his brow like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on my head and watched it explode, but he didn’t say the words again.

  “You can’t...” Turned out I couldn’t say them either. “You’re only what—fifty or sixty years old?”

  “Seventy-two,” he corrected.

  Chills walked on mouse feet up my spine. “What’s wrong?”

  “I had sex with someone.”

  I didn’t like where this was heading.

  “She...fed from me while I was feeding from her.”

  I shifted uncomfortably. “Fed how?”

  “Green light.” He continued the methodical peeling of the label. “Palm to my chest.”

  Memories of that night washed over me, flushing my skin and shortening my breath.

  Shaw loomed over me, his hips wedged between mine. I traced the hard curve of his right pectoral with my fingertip before placing my left palm over his racing heart. He slid inside me, growling my name, holding me so tight I couldn’t breathe, and then he shouted. Not in pleasure, not in pain, but in horror.

  That night desire had ignited my magic. I don’t know why or what was different that time from all the others. All I know is instead of sliding off him, my power latched on and fed. Fear I would drink him down, panic that my grim history was repeating, was enough to save him.

  That time.

  There wasn’t a next time. Answers were hard to come by, and I was too scared sex with me would kill him. Turned out I worried for nothing. I found him a week later playing naked Twister with five harpy sisters. He hadn’t even locked the door. Who cheats on their girlfriend without locking the door?

  The next day I paid a local human witch to spell a leather glove with a Word. No more accidents for me. Not with Shaw or anyone else. The witch had enough fae blood in her family tree to give its branches a little zing but was so far removed she was mortal. I could have used a fae, but they live for centuries, and I took comfort knowing my secrets would die with her.

  Sick to my core, I whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.” He brushed aside my apology. “You didn’t mean for it to happen.”

  I hated the twist of hope in my chest, the need to hear his explanation. “That’s why you left?”

  “That’s part of the reason.” He drew in a long breath. “I went home. I thought my people could help.”

  “Did they?”

  He shook his head.

  I set my hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Don’t.” His tone shattered, turned to broken glass and cut its way from his throat. “Please.”

  The anguish in his voice answered for him. I didn’t want to make our situation worse or the debts I owed any deeper, but I couldn’t have another innocent’s death on my conscience. I had plenty of those already.

  “Tell me what to do.” I tugged on his shirt when he ignored me. “I want to help.”

  “You don’t understand.” Hunger reverberated in his voice. “You’re the only one who can.”

  I slowly broke contact with him. “Why?”

  “We completed a circuit, Thierry.” His eyes were cloudy white when he looked at me. “I can only feed from you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Obligation is the worst burden in the world. The sense you must atone for your sins, the guilt that keeps you up at night. First I wrecked Mom’s life, now I might have ended Shaw’s. Under different circumstances, I might have joked about my sexual prowess breaking an incubus, but I wasn’t laughing now.

  Thierry strikes again.

  I did this. I broke him. That meant I had to fix him. There must be a way.

  I rubbed the back of my arms. “How long has it been since you fed?”

  He shrugged, closing his eyes until he regained control. “That isn’t why I came back to Wink.”

  “Why did you?” I bit my lip. “I didn’t mean it like—I was surprised is all. Transfers usually last two years.”

  The longing in his gaze twisted something in my chest. “I had my reasons.”

  “I’m guessing they involve me since you wanted to meet and talk this out.” I struggled to find polite phrasing. “Do you want to establish a feeding schedule or something?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Nothing like that.”

  Aware of what I was offering, I swallowed hard. “Are you sure...?”

  “I can’t turn you down again, Thierry.” He clenched his fists. “I’m not that strong.”

  “Okay.” I wiped my damp palms down my jeans. “Then I’m not sure what’s happening here.”

  “I regret how things ended.” He pushed to his feet. “I just wanted to make things right between us.”

  The misery of his betrayal rushed back in a moment of agonizing clarity, but the memories were fuzzy around the edges, the details faded. The hurt was more remembered than felt these days. Guess I was healing after all.

  “We’re good.” I stood beside him and took his hand. “Also? You’re not leaving until you’ve fed.” Flames leapt into my cheeks when his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. “We’re not having sex.” I rolled my eyes at him. “Take what you need to get through the day. We’ll meet up tonight before work and put our heads together, okay? We can figure a way out of this.”

  Subtle warmth from his pa
lm seeped into my skin, spiraling up my arm and through my chest.

  His fingers tightened until his grip hurt. “Ready?”

  As I ever would be. “Fire away.”

  Heat pulsed beneath my skin. The slow draw of energy from my runes into his hand let me acclimate to the remembered sensation of feeding. But the more he sipped, the harder his pulls turned and the weaker my knees became.

  A rumbling sound disoriented me. I grasped for his shoulders, but my hand slid down his arm.

  With cold certainty, I understood the sound was a growl pouring through his parted lips.

  The leash of his control snapped with a roar, and he drank me all the way down.

  “I’m calling the conclave if you don’t get your ass out of here now.”

  Mai?

  “I’m not leaving until she comes to.”

  Shaw.

  “You almost killed her,” Mai screamed. “Touch her again, and I’ll shift and chew off your nuts.”

  “She’s coming around.” Shaw’s voice came from next to my ear. “Thierry?”

  I blinked a few times, settling on a hard squint at the overhead light. My limbs felt weightless. I was hollowed out and boneless. My temples throbbed. My tongue was thick and cottony. I ached all over.

  He braced a hand on my shoulder. “Can you hear me?”

  “Yeah.” I rubbed my ears. “You’re loud.”

  “Thank the seven mothers.” Mai knocked him aside. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so.” I waved a hand over my head. “Am I floating? Do I look floaty to you?”

  “Thierry?” Mai grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “Do you know where you are?”

  Her nails punctured my fluorescent buoyancy, slamming me back into my tender body.

  “Judging by the spring jabbing my lower back...” I winced as I repositioned myself, “...I’d say I’m on the couch.”

  Her grip eased. “Can you sit up?” Ready or not, she gripped my hands and pulled me into an upright position.

  Shaw hovered behind Mai, hands shoved into his pants pockets. It didn’t help. His tightly balled fists were outlined against the denim in his jeans. His color was high—embarrassed or just well fed?—and he set his mouth in a hard line when our gazes met. No. Not embarrassed. Ashamed. That was so much worse.

  “I’m fine.” I hoped he read my sincerity. “I’m just tired. I’ve been running on fumes for days.”

  His curt nod was all the answer I got before Mai stepped in front of me and cut our eye contact.

  “Hello?” Her bright eyes flashed with anger. “I found you passed out and being pawed over.”

  “It’s not what you think.” I massaged my temples, but the conga line between my ears persisted.

  She set her fists on her hips. “It looked a hell of a lot like you let him feed on you.”

  “Um.” I blanked on a good excuse. “Fine, it’s exactly what you think. Can we talk about this later?”

  With a disgusted huff, Mai headed to the kitchen. She poured a glass of orange juice, brought it to me and held it under my nose. “Drink this.”

  On the first sip, I reassessed. “This is not orange juice.” It tasted the way burnt rubber smelled.

  “There’s orange juice in there.” She tapped the bottom of the glass. “It’s something Mom mixes up for when the kits tire themselves out shifting. If they get stuck furry for too long, they form an unhealthy bond with their furry side. They’re at risk of going feral. This gives them a nice boost.”

  Eyeing the glass, I decided against a boost. “I want to sleep.”

  “Fine.” Mai shrugged. “I’ll sleep with you.”

  I cleared my throat. “You don’t have to—”

  Too late. Mai was tugging her blouse over her head. Her high heels thunked to the floor, followed by her dress pants. While she stripped within touching distance of a starving incubus, I watched him for signs of interest. There were none. Zero. Zilch. He wasn’t sneaking peeks or whiting out or anything.

  Even while we were dating, he would slip up and stare too long at passing women. It was the nature of the beast. I forgave him. I understood. It was the touching part that broke me. This—I didn’t understand at all.

  First his lapse in my office, and then his partial regression at the recycling center. This topped both of those for most eerie incubus behavior ever by a landslide.

  A sharp yip brought my attention back to Mai, who had shifted and stood flicking her tail in my direction. She jerked her head toward my bedroom and barked once.

  “Give me a minute.” I scooted her aside with my foot. “I need to say something to—ouch.”

  Pinpoints of blood welled from the bite mark on my ankle, there and gone, but the pain lingered.

  Shaw had taken the hint and stood waiting for me by the door. I walked gingerly to him, keeping an eye on Mai and her pointy teeth. She sank to her haunches with her ears pinned flush to her skull, growling.

  I leaned my shoulder against the wall since the room kept shimmying. “How are you feeling?”

  His fingers traced the curve of my cheek. “I should be asking you that.”

  I gave him what I hoped was a pointed look.

  His hand fell to his side. “Better.”

  “Good.” I shrugged off the tingles from his caress. “I’m glad.”

  The awkward kiss he pressed to my temple sent pleasant heat twisting through my chest.

  “Night,” he murmured, lips brushing my ear.

  He stepped into the hall, his gait loose and easy as the tension of the day melted away from him.

  “Night,” I said to his retreating back. “Tomorrow we block out some time to work on our case, okay?”

  A cold nose butted my ankle. Mai stared after Shaw through golden eyes until he stepped on the elevator, before trotting off toward my bedroom. I shut and locked the door then trudged after her.

  Nothing had ever felt as good as my head hitting that pillow.

  Chapter Twelve

  I threw out my arm and knocked an empty water bottle off the nightstand while groping for my cellphone. A push of a button made the display flash and temporarily blinded me, but not before I saw it was three in the afternoon.

  Bump. Bump. Bump.

  My gaze speared the ceiling. Not again. Another round of knocks and bangs curled my lip. It wasn’t the new neighbor’s fault I worked nights or that I slept through primetime moving hours. But I was tired and stressed, and we had to coexist for the next year at least, so this had to stop. Now. Today.

  Snuffling sounds reminded me for once I wasn’t alone in bed. I cracked a grin at the sight of Mai curled up at my feet, in human form, snoring, undisturbed by the racket overhead. Holding her fox shape exhausted her. Once she fell asleep, she often reverted to two legs.

  Sliding out of bed, careful not to jostle Mai, I tiptoed into the living room. I gripped the doorknob, forcing my sleep-addled mind to consider for a moment what I was about to do might stir up more trouble than it was worth.

  Moment over.

  Wearing a sleep-rumpled Pooh Bear shirt and matching shorts, sporting wildebeest hair and shielding the new neighbors from my morning breath—afternoon breath?—with my hand wouldn’t make the best impression, but I was past caring how I looked. Or smelled.

  The elevator ride up to the third floor gave me even more time to reflect on the possible rashness of my impending confrontation. Nope. Still doing it. I had to beg a reprieve. A few hours, a little shuteye, then they could bumpty bump around all they wanted.

  Each floor recycled the same numbers, so I walked a straight line to the apartment matching mine. My hand lifted as the door swung open, and instead of wishing him a good afternoon, I almost swallowed my tongue.

  A man stood in the doorway. Fae by his scent. By his looks too. No one that gorgeous had an ounce of human blood in them. He was tall. I was five ten and had a view of his chin. Following the curve of his jaw, I slid my gaze across his high cheekbones to meet his eyes. They were black
with silver rims around his irises. Infinite. I stared at him, and cold, heartless eternity stared back. I jerked my gaze away. Had to. Before it consumed me.

  The rest of him was...not easier to look at...but I couldn’t stop gawking.

  His hair was black as midnight and hung unbound to his waist. His flawless skin had a grayish cast, but not sickly. Nothing about him telegraphed weakness. He was almost monotonous. A study, not only in the black of his hair or the white of his lips, but in all the varying shades of gray.

  He had answered the door wearing low-slung jeans in his bare feet. Even his toes fascinated me.

  That I noticed his bare chest last surprised me almost as much as the ornate silver cuffs clamped around each of his biceps. Lean muscle rippled as he moved to cross his arms over the chest I had so openly admired. As my focus traveled down his torso, my gaze got hung up on his hipbones, on how low his pants hung, and the fact not a hint of elastic rode above the line of his faded jeans.

  Boxers? Briefs? Commando? Never had I been more invested in a man’s choice of underwear.

  The man in question cleared his throat.

  The fire of a thousand suns burst across my face as I offered him my hand. “Hi.”

  After a brief pause, he must have decided to allow me skin privileges, because he clasped my hand between his palms. His thumb rolled across my knuckles while the slightest corner of his lips curled.

  “Hello,” he said, and his words rang through my bones.

  An awkward moment passed while I debated how to get my hand back, if I even wanted it back. Some fae, especially older ones, had odd ideas about what such permissions meant. Too late to panic now. I had initiated contact. All the warnings hammered into my head flittered right out the window when I looked at him.

  And his window was open. I saw it from here, once I tore my gaze from him and peered into his apartment. His empty apartment. Not one stick of furniture in sight. So what had made all the racket?

  “I heard noises,” I finally managed. “I thought I would come up and...”

  A mocking smile curved his lips. “Introduce yourself?”

  “Yes.” I gave a test pull on my hand, and he released me.