Лорел Гамильтон - Dead Ice

I drove around to the employee parking lot in back and found it packed. We even had a roped-off section for valet parking, which meant our valet lot had filled up and they were moving cars back here. That didn’t happen all the time, so it was a busy night indeed.

There was a man pacing in front of the back door; I thought at first it was more security, but as I parked in one of the reserved spots near the door I realized it was Cynric. His shoulders were hunched with tension, movements jerky with anger. Crap. My stomach sank to my knees, then tightened like an aching fist. I did not want to have a fight about my not being able to make the senior awards ceremony.

By the time I got out of my car I was ready to have a fight. If he couldn’t understand that my job had to come before a lot of things, then he wasn’t the right person for my life. I’d been hurt so badly that if I’d been just vanilla human I’d probably have needed surgery to fix some tendons or lose the use of my left arm. That was what had cost me the time to go to his school thing, and why the hell was he wanting our first public outing as a couple to be a school thing anyway? It was guaranteed to hit every issue I had.

He stopped pacing as he watched me walk toward him, and when I was close enough he said, “Good, you’re as pissed at Asher as I am.”

I actually said, “If you can’t understand . . .” Lucky for both of us I stopped there and did an almost painful reverse in my head. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“You’ve got a serious mad on, and I just thought it was about Asher. Was I wrong?” He looked at me more closely. “Did I do something wrong?”

I laughed, smiled, and said, “No, no, it’s just been . . . a day.”

He offered his hand and I took it. His hands had gotten even larger since he moved to St. Louis, or maybe I just hadn’t let myself see the spread of his fingers that did such a great job of holding and throwing a football. He drew me in for a kiss, and I went up on tiptoe to meet him partway, and let his lips touch mine. The kiss was gentle, his arms felt good, but the tension I’d seen when I drove up was still under there thrumming away.

I opened my eyes after the kiss, his arms still around me, and asked, “What has Asher done now?” I sounded more tired than mad.

“Nothing, Jean-Claude and the others are talking to him now.” That sullen look that had almost gone away crossed his handsome face and made him look younger, and not in a good way.

“Then what’s wrong?” I asked.

“He sent me out of the room.”

“Jean-Claude?”

“Yeah, he ordered me out of the room while they talk to Asher.”

“The last time Asher had a fit . . .” I started to say.

“I know, I know, he hit me once and I was down for the count.”

I hugged him tighter around the waist. “He could have broken your neck, and that can work the same as decapitation, so dead.”

“Jean-Claude reminded me, and Asher stood there smirking with Kane right beside him, holding his hand.” He looked down at me, face so earnest, and I realized that it was a good word for him, too. “You know how hard I’ve been working out in fight practice.”

I hugged him and rested my chin on his chest, so I gazed up the line of his body as he looked down at me. “I know you have.”

“Jean-Claude doesn’t work out with us, he doesn’t know how much better I am now.” It was the complaint of a child wanting to be a man, no, wanting to be treated like a man. I’d spent years having the other cops treat me like the “girl” until I proved myself; even now I still had to convince officers who hadn’t worked with me before that I wasn’t just a zombie-raising slut fucking her way to power through the preternatural community. You think I’m being harsh? I wish. I stared up at Cynric. I could feel the extra muscle that gym work and fight practice had given him. Genetics had put him over six feet tall; in the boots he was wearing he was two inches taller than that, so that my chin rested at his diaphragm. I’d held enough men in my arms to understand the potential in his body not just for sex, but for violence, and that last included protecting himself. People treat learning to fight as if it’s all about hurting people, but a lot of it is about making sure no one can hurt you, or those you love.

“Cynric,” I said.

“Anita, please, tonight of all nights, call me by my name.”

I took in a deep breath and said, “Sin.”

He smiled, bright and happy. “Thank you, I know you don’t like it.”

“At least you started spelling it S-i-n, and not C-y-n.”

He laughed. “No one could spell it or pronounce it the other way. I got tired of being called Cyndi, or Kenny.”

“Well, Sin, let’s go inside and see how Asher and Jean-Claude are holding up.”

His eyes went a little wide. “Jean-Claude was very adamant about it. He even offered to have me escorted out by the guards.”

“Well, you weren’t the only one who got hurt last time Asher threw a hissy fit. Remember, he bit my mouth so badly that I’d have needed stitches if I’d been human. Hell, I might have needed plastic surgery or lived with permanent scars on my lips.”

He touched my cheek, then traced his fingers delicately across my lower lip. It brought my breath in a sigh. He caressed his finger over my mouth again, then said, “Later I want to do that again, but push my fingers and other things between your lips.”

I shivered at the thought of it, which made him laugh, pleased with himself, but he’d earned it. He was as good as his promises in the bedroom.

“Now stop that, or we’ll both get too distracted to go in and talk to Asher.”

The laughter faded around the edges, leaving his eyes angry again. “I really hate Kane. I don’t like Asher sometimes, but Kane is just . . .”

“Irritating as hell,” I finished for him.

“Yes.”

“I know, but you be careful as hell around both Asher and Kane. He doesn’t practice as hard as the rest of our guards, but he’s still been doing this longer than you have. If you get hurt I will never forgive myself, or you. But you have a right to be in on the group discussions, and you’re right, Jean-Claude hasn’t seen you in fight practice.”

“Kane has.”

“Then be extra careful of him, because he knows how you move.” I stepped away and offered him my left hand, and we went for the door. Cynric, I mean Sin, came with me smiling, happy to be included. I hoped he would be as happy afterward.

OF COURSE, IT wasn’t that easy to get to Jean-Claude and the rest, because they were in the underground. The miles of stairs stretching downward meant there was no way to walk and be that quick. My phone buzzed at me. I fumbled it out of my pocket and saw a text from Nathaniel. “Jean-Claude is backing down. Need you.”

Micah texted while I was still reading the first text. His text was shorter. “ETA?”

I showed Sin the texts. “Estimated time of arrival, what do you think?” I asked.

“At my speed, less than five minutes.”

“You have to stay with me, not ahead of me,” I said.

He grinned. “Well, then what’s your mile time?”

“On stairs?” I said.

He nodded, still grinning.

“Shit, it’s less than two miles.” I texted both of the men back using a group message, and typed, “On stairs, less than 10 ETA.”

“It’ll be a lot less,” Sin said.

I put the phone back in my pocket and started down the stairs. I was a little afraid of trying my top speed on the stone steps, but the guys needed me now. Jean-Claude had only two weaknesses: me and Asher. I said a little prayer and let myself run, really run, down the steps. I was glad I’d worn jogging shoes to work today. Sin stayed with me in his less-stair-friendly boots. He could have gotten there sooner, but he stayed with me like I’d told him to; it helped me move faster knowing that I was slowing him down, and that Nathaniel and Micah needed me with them. I prayed that Jean-Claude wouldn’t do anything too stupid before I got there, and I ran.