By the time Boyd—I'd finally found out his name—steered the car through Damon's gates, I was floating toward sleep, lulled into a haze by smooth suspension and painkillers. Cassandra and Meredith had done something to my arm to ease the burn, but I hadn't argued with the doctor's addition of a prescription for some pharmaceutical help.
"C'mon, Sleeping Beauty." Damon helped me out of the car and swung me into his arms despite my protests. I snuggled against his neck, fighting to stay awake.
"I guess we won't be having that talk right now," he muttered as he carried me into the house. I pretended not to hear, just made a sleepy noise. He'd tried to give Cassandra the third degree when she'd let him back into the room, but she'd shut him down. For which I was grateful. I wasn't keen to explain everything to him either. I wasn't sure I could explain it.
I knew I'd have to face the music in the morning, but for now, I was going to pretend that wasn't true.
By the time Damon slid me into cool cotton sheets, I'd slipped even further into the haze. The pillow was like a cloud under my cheek. A cloud that wanted to pull me under. But before I gave in to that pull, there was something I needed to know.
"Did you hear from Ajax?" I managed to ask without slurring more than a tiny bit.
"Not yet." He pulled the covers over me, and I knew I should be worried about Nat, but it was just too easy to let myself slide all the way into oblivion.
When I swam back to consciousness, Damon was a solid warm curl at my back, his arm carefully tucked around me so it supported my burned one. Not that he needed to. It didn't hurt.
Really didn't hurt. Which was . . . unexpected.
I wriggled my fingers and flexed my wrist experimentally, dislodging flakes of gelskin.
The flesh below what remained of the gel was pinker than normal, but nothing like the angry red of last night. Whatever Cassandra had done, it had worked. Which I would’ve been happier about if I wasn't all too aware of the fact that what she'd done had involved magic. Still, I was grateful it didn't hurt and flexed it again, wriggling my fingers carefully.
Damon shifted on the pillow beside me, and I froze. I didn't want to wake him. Not yet. As long as he slept, we didn't have to have the talk.
I really, really didn't want to have the talk.
Damon's arm tightened, pulling me back into him. As my butt hit his hips, it became clear that part of him was wide awake too.
I sighed happily, pressing against him. Drowsy morning sex might be just as good as more sleep. And required no talking.
"Is it morning?" Damon said in a sleep-slurred rumble that shot straight to my groin.
"Go back to sleep." I kept my voice low. As tempting as it was to jump him, sleep seemed the safer option.
He flexed his hips, his breath warm down my neck, waking every nerve it hit.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Good." I tried to keep the rapidly blooming lust out of my voice. "Seriously, go back to sleep. It's early."
"You smell good." Breath stirred against my neck again, making the muscles quiver.
"Eau de hospital will do it every time."
His arm tensed, and I cursed my choice of words. Reminding him of the hospital wasn't exactly a good strategy if I was trying to avoid the talk.
"You're really feeling okay?"
I raised my arm, displaying the fading remnants of the burn. "Cassandra does good work."
More gelskin crumbled and drifted onto the covers as he ran his thumb up my forearm. "So I see."
He sounded more awake. I braced myself for the inevitable.
"Are you—"
"Can we not do this? Not just yet?" I wasn't ready. And if he wasn't going to sleep, then I needed a distraction. Sex seemed the obvious choice. I twisted in his arms, draped a leg over his hip.
"Maggie . . ." His pupils flared dark as I pressed closer.
"Not yet." I tugged his head down and pressed my mouth to his, hard. Then I pulled back. "Last night I kept thinking that I might never get to do that again."
He studied me for a moment, a mix of wariness and warmth in his eyes. "I thought you wanted time."
"I changed my mind."
"What if I still need some?"
I wrapped my hand around his cock. "This suggests otherwise."
He sucked in a breath as my hand stroked. "You can't put this off forever."
"I know." Up. Down. Soft over hard.
His eyes glazed. "Now who's beguiling who?"
I smiled. "Is it working?"
"Turn over," he said softly.
I rolled. Lips brushed my hair softly. Then he lifted it and I quivered again when his breath whispered over my nape. I wanted him to take me away. Wanted just to be. Not to think or worry.
"You don't smell like a hospital."
"No? Must be whatever fabric softener your housekeeper is using, then."
"No, it's just you." His voice was soft. So soft. It made me want to let my defenses down. To let him through. But I couldn't. Then he pressed his lips to my skin.
My breath hitched, heat seeping through me. Heat was good. Heat meant no thinking, a place to hide from everything that waited for me outside this room.
"You're sure you're feeling okay?" Another kiss. Right at the curve between neck and shoulder where I seemed to have a nerve that connected straight to every girl part I owned.
I sighed. "I'm good. But you could make me feel better."
"Really?"
This time his tongue traced the spot, and I couldn't stop my shiver of pleasure. "Yes. Please."
I tried to turn in his arms, but he tightened his grip and scraped his teeth against my neck.
"No, stay like that."
His free hand slipped upward from my waist, found a breast, and started tracing a pattern around my nipple that made me crazy.
"Just lie still."
I couldn't disobey. Couldn't think of a reason why I'd want to as he set to work with lips and fingers, playing my body like a master even though the options were somewhat limited by our positions.
I felt him behind me, hard and ready, his breath coming a little faster, a little deeper with each sigh or moan he coaxed from me.
By the time his fingers slipped between my legs, I was ready to melt. Or maybe explode. He stroked me softly and I started to soar.
"Not just yet. Slowly." His hand slowed down to an agonizingly pleasurable rhythm, and my world shrank to focus on his fingers and the sensations pulsing through me with each touch.
But it wasn't enough. I wanted him closer. As close as we could get.
"I want you," I said softly. "Please, Damon."
"Your wish is my command."
His hand moved to my thigh, coaxed it upward. He pressed against me, teasing, drawing out the moment before he finally slid home and filled the ache.
I tightened around him, trying to draw him closer, but he kept control, moving softly and slowly. Steady like a train. Sliding and stroking. And all the time his lips skimmed my throat and ear, as he murmured to me, driving me upwards.
Time went away. The world went away. Nothing was real but him. It had been a long time—maybe never—since I'd felt like this about a man. Like he was the whole world.
Dumb, perhaps. Crazy when it might all be about to slip away.
But crazy felt better than anything I could remember.
"Come for me, Maggie," he said softly as he quickened the pace, driving deeper and harder. "I want to hear you."
It was irresistible, that voice, and I let it take me where I needed to go.
We stayed curled around each other until Damon's datapad buzzed into life twenty or so minutes later.
"Ajax," he said as he looked at the screen.
Ajax. Nat. Reality came speeding back, dragging a load of worry in its wake that hit me like a truck.
I listened to the conversation and, when I worked out what was going on, scrambled out of bed, headed for the shower.
"Where are you running off to?" Damon asked when I reemerged, clean but still kind of damp.
I twisted my hair up into a soggy knot, wanting to get moving. "It sounded like he got her to agree to come in to work. I need to be there when she arrives. I’m her best friend. I should be the one to talk to her, get her to agree to see Doctor Chen."
Shoes. Purse. Was there anything else?
Damon looked like he wanted to argue, but then he nodded. "Boyd will take you in."
The drive from St. Frances Woods seemed to take even longer than normal, the traffic grindingly slow. I envied those zipping along in the hover lanes.
Boyd had barely stopped the car outside the tester’s building before I opened the door and scrambled out. I hit the testing rooms at a near run, only to find Ajax and the rest of his team but no Nat.
"No sign of her yet," he said. Stubble coated his jawline, and his hair stuck up at odd angles. His clothes reeked with the bite of Sandman.
“You didn’t bring her with you?”
He grimaced. “We got her out of the club. Took her to a pizza joint to get some food into her. She was acting fairly normal. Said she wanted to go home and change.”
"And you let her?" I said, voice squeaking with disbelief.
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, expression unhappy. "I argued, but she wanted to go home. I didn’t want to upset her and have her disappear again. I took her to your apartment in a cab, but she wouldn't let me come into the building. Told me she’d meet me here."
At least she'd gone home. But damn, I could've been there. I shouldn't have let Damon take me back to his house. I looked back at the door. "Maybe I should—"
Ajax shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea. She was kind of slipping. Nervous. Let her come to you."
I didn't want to take his advice. I wanted to run home, scoop Nat up, and get her somewhere safe. But he was right. Nat's stubborn streak could be Grand Canyon–wide, and nothing made her dig in her heels like being pushed when she wasn't ready. "I want to know as soon as she gets here."
All I could do was wait, so I hunted down coffee and made my way across to the main building. The thought of facing my team with no chip didn’t improve my mood as I descended in the elevator.
Eli and Benji and Trista were already at their desks, hard at work. Their varying looks of concern, surprise, and faint annoyance told me I wasn't exactly expected.
"Hey, you're back. Are you okay?" Eli stepped back and gave me the once-over. The shower had dispersed the rest of the gelskin, but there was no way to hide the surgical shield on my left wrist. His eyes widened and a grimace twisted his face.
"They took your chip?" he breathed.
"They jacked your chip?" Benji said, swiveling on his chair. "Shit, that rips."
"Pretty much," I agreed. "So we're going to have to do this the old-fashioned way. Or I am, at least."
"That's chill. We can do that." Benji frowned, but then his expression lightened. "Or one of us can run the data and you can watch on the screen." He turned back to his desk as his screen chirped at him. "In fact, let's do that," he added with a decisive nod that sent his newly green dreadlocks bouncing. "Boss man says you're to take it easy."
"What?" I headed for Benji's desk. Sure enough, there was a message from Damon telling the three of them to basically babysit me.
"Hang on." I picked up the phone and dialed Damon's extension. Cat answered. "Put me through, please."
"Ms. Lachlan? Is that you?"
"Yes. I need to speak to Damon. Now."
Benji grinned as I snapped the words. God knew what Eli and Trista thought.
"What's up?" Damon asked. He sounded distracted.
"I don't need babysitters," I ground out.
That got his attention. "I don't remember hiring any."
I fought the urge to bang my head on the desk. "You sent my team a message saying I have to take it easy."
"Well, you do. Doc's orders."
"I'm well aware of that. I can look after myself." This was exactly why leaning on Damon was dangerous. Give the man an inch and he'd take a mile—and probably stage a takeover bid for the next ten.
"But it's more fun if you let me do that."
I counted to three before I answered. Slowly. "You need a new definition of fun."
Benji's expression changed from grin to something more thoughtful. Assessing even.
Shit. I was talking to Damon like he was my boyfriend, not my boss.
Apparently morning sex and worry addled my brain.
"I would appreciate it if you'd trust me to know my own limitations," I said in a more professional tone. "After all, that's what you pay me for."
"When you talk like that, I start imagining you in a sexy little suit and glasses. And then I imagine taking them off you . . . ."
My palms started to sweat and I swallowed hard. Damon and I were definitely going to have another discussion on keeping things office appropriate. In the meantime, I wasn't going to play along.
"I'm glad you see my point of view," I said briskly.
"Did Nat turn up yet?"
"No. Goodbye." I hung up the receiver before he could say anything else to stir my hormones into rebellion.
"You and the boss man sound kind of slick there, Maggie D," Benji stage-whispered, winking at me.
"You're imagining things," I said. Beating my head against the desk still seemed like a good option. Though really, it was too late for that. I knew better than to mix business and pleasure, and this was why. These guys weren't going to go all out for me if they thought the only reason I got the gig was boning the boss.
Of course, that problem might just go away after Damon and I finally talked about what happened in that alley.
Something to worry about later. I had a job to do. Focusing on that might just keep me sane.
"Do you need to do anything to reset my system for me to work without a chip?"
Benji shrugged. "Couple of tweaks. No biggie. Thirty minutes tops."
"Great." My fingers itched to call Ajax for an update, but I didn't want Benji and the others listening in. "I need to check something with the testers. Buzz me when you're done."
I sped back to the tester’s building. Still no Nat. I nibbled a fingernail as Ajax called her datapad.
No answer.
I double-checked that he had the right details. He did. He had our house comp’s message service link too.
Still nothing.
"Let me try." Maybe she was avoiding work. I had no idea whether she would also be avoiding me or not, but I had to try.
My call was no more successful than Ajax's. And when I used the tracking app Nat and I shared, it told me her datapad was offline. I chewed my lip, trying to ignore the sick roll of my stomach. Nat was never offline.
I commandeered a screen and logged into our house comp. No entries or exits recorded since Nat and I had left the night before. So if Nat had gone into the building like Ajax said, she'd obviously just waited until he'd left and then headed out again.
Or had she? What if something else had been waiting for her? The sort of something that had come after Damon and me? There was no reason to think Nat might be a target, but what if it had been waiting for me?
I swallowed hard, suddenly terrified. "I don't like this. I'm going home to see if she’s there."
Ajax didn't try to stop me.
There wasn't a cab outside the Righteous campus. Typical. I grabbed my datapad to call a ride-share.
I had a mini heart attack when it buzzed to life in my hands just as I was punching keys to book the ride.
"Maggie Lachlan," I answered, trying not to sound too annoyed at the interruption.
"Where are you going?" Damon asked. "Cat said she saw you heading out."
"Home. Nat still a no-show."
"Wait there. I'll be two minutes."
"But—" I was talking to dead air. I toyed with the idea of leaving without him, but he'd probably just follow me. Plus, according to my datapad, he’d be here faster than the closest driver. So I stayed put.
Luckily, he was true to his word. Two minutes later, his car drove through the gates and stopped next to me.
The passenger door opened. "Get in," Damon said from the driver’s seat.
"Where's Boyd?"
"I can drive."
Of course he could.
I climbed in. He nosed the car onto the road and disobeyed the posted speed limit as he headed for the gate. Once we were off-campus and back in the city traffic, he proceeded to give me another near heart attack as he wove between the cars around us, heading down the street at a speed I wouldn't have thought was possible downtown.
"Have you tried calling Nat?" he asked.
"Ten minutes ago. I was going to try again from the car." I fiddled with my datapad, willing it to give me the right answer this time. It still said Nat was offline. I sent her a message anyway.
"Call her now."
I did just that and listened to the house comp route me to Nat's voicemail after the obligatory five rings.
"No answer?"
"Voicemail." I pushed the datapad back into my purse and tried not to shriek as Damon shot through a gap barely wide enough for the car.
"Do you want to go home or to the club?"
"Dockside? No, thanks." Even in the light of day, I wasn't in a hurry to return to the scene of last night's terror. "Just home. Preferably in one piece."
He just gunned the engine and shot through a yellow light. "And if she's not there?"
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." I shut my eyes so Damon's kamikaze driving couldn't push my anxiety levels into the red zone.
Maybe Nat was just passed out somewhere at a friend's house, oblivious to all our attempts to reach her. She slept like the dead at the best of times. Add a couple of late nights gaming and the cocktail of narcotics swirling around the air of Unquiet last night and she'd be practically comatose even if Ajax had stuffed her full of pizza.
It was a nice theory, but it didn't ring true. If she was safe, I wouldn't have knots in my stomach and a growing sense that something was very, very wrong. We finally turned into my street. The lights on all the parking stacks glowed red. Full. Damon circled the block a few times.
"Let me out," I said on the third go-round.
He hovered a finger over the lock release. "Only if you wait for me."
"I want to see if she's there. Unlock the damn door." I glared at him.
"I don't want you going up there alone."
My frustration eased. He was trying to protect me. Any other time, I might've found it hard to resist, but I was trying to find Nat. My instincts told me she was the one who needed protection. "It's just Nat."
"Nat who took a swing at me," he reminded me. "And there could be other things. Like last night."
So I wasn’t the only one to have that thought. And, if Damon was bringing up last night, I got the feeling that my avoiding-the-subject time was about to run out. I looked away. "I'll wait for you."
"Don't have to." He pointed at a car pulling out ahead of us, then slid into the empty space.
"Nat, are you here?" The house comp had said she hadn't entered the apartment, but I couldn't help hoping that she'd somehow hacked it.
No such luck. The apartment was stubbornly silent. Nat's bedroom door was wide open, and my heart slid to my shoes as I reached the doorway.
Neatly made bed. No sign of it having been slept in. No sign of Nat either.
"She's not here," Damon said from behind me.
I didn't tell him I already knew that. If I said it out loud, I'd be admitting that Nat was just . . . gone. "Maybe she's on her way to Righteous after all."
"I'll call the office." He moved out to the hallway. Nat's room screen sprang to life as I waved at it. Her inbox showed a stack of messages, all from me, Ajax, and other Righteous employees.
"Time of last access?" I asked the computer. I couldn’t get into Nat's personal system, but the access logs were on the house comp.
"10:05 p.m."
No change. Nothing since last night. Before we'd left. She hadn't even accessed her system since then. Bad sign.
Damon stuck his head into the room. "Still a no show at work. Cat's going to call the club, see if she went back there."
"Ajax said he brought her back here, but obviously she didn't stay." I doubted she was at a club. Even for Nat, twelve hours straight of game time would be extreme. I tried to think where else she might hole up. In the weird mood she'd been in last night, it didn't seem likely that she'd go to her parents' house. And I didn't know quite how to check with her mom without freaking Mrs. Marcos out.
"Where else does she play?" Damon asked. "Cat can start checking those clubs as well."
"Thanks." I reeled off Nat's favorite clubs but didn't hold out much hope that she was at any of them. My gut was telling me this was something more.
"Maybe Cassandra can help. She might know somebody who can . . . ." He made a vague gesture in the air.
"What's . . . ?" I copied his movement.
"You know, can't some witches locate objects or something?"
How was I supposed to know? "I guess. Okay, good idea. I'll call her and you call Cat."
The conversation with Cassandra didn't take long. Yes, she could try locating Nat, but I needed to bring something that belonged to her to the store.
"Like what? Clothing? Jewelry?"
"That would be best. Something she wears a lot like a ring or a necklace. If you can't find one of those, then dirty clothes or a hairbrush."
Hairbrush? I went cold. Weren't witches meant to be able to do bad things if they had a piece of your hair or nails? I didn't like the thought of handing Cassandra that level of power. She seemed trustworthy, but I barely knew her. Nat wore plenty of jewelry, so I'd try and find a ring or something. "People can really do this? Tell where someone is from an object?"
"Sara didn't do finds? I guess not. Yes, some of us can do that. It's an effort though, and doesn't always work."
"But you'll try? I'm worried."
"Of course. Just find something and bring it with you. Don't handle it more than you have to. If you can wrap it in silk or cotton, that's best."
"Okay. We'll be there soon."
"We?" Cassandra sounded surprised.
"Damon and I." I flipped open the Chinese lacquer jewelry box on Nat's dresser and spotted one of her favorite rings. Now all I needed was something to wrap it in.
"I see. Maggie, does that boy know what he's getting into?"
"What do you mean?"
"Did you talk to him yet? About what happened last night? Does he know about you?"
I snapped the box shut, guilt washing over me. Damon was still in the living room. He couldn't hear me, but I lowered my voice anyway. "About me being a witch? We haven't really had a chance to talk about it." My thoughts tangled like the strings of beads Nat had piled on her dresser. How could I tell him? Then again, how could I not? What the hell would I say?
"I would've thought the demon was the bigger problem," Cassandra said dryly. "Unless he's an anti?"
She meant the religious crazies who sometimes rose up claiming magic was a scourge on the world. I wasn't a fan of magic either, but that just meant I avoided it personally, not that I wanted all witches thrown in jail or something. "No. I'm not sure he's much into the magic, but I don't think he's prejudiced."
And if I really believed that, why did I keep putting off telling him? Or was I worried about my own prejudice?
I picked up the beads and tried to untangle them.
"You need to tell him. You can't drag him into the middle of this without warning. Demons are dangerous."
One of the strings parted with a snap and beads sprayed everywhere. "You think Nat going AWOL has something to do with the demon?"
"I hope not, but it's a strange coincidence. I've never liked coincidences. Talk to him."
I looked down at the beads sprinkled over the floor and sighed. Time to clean up the mess. "I will. We might be a bit longer."
"I'll be waiting."
I hung up and stood frozen for a moment, trying to figure out how exactly you told your fairly new lover that you were a) a witch and b) potentially being hunted by a demon.
I still hadn't come up with an answer by the time I'd gathered as many beads as I could and found a silk scarf to wrap Nat's ring in.
Damon was just pocketing his datapad when I reached the kitchen.
"All set?" he asked. "Cat's got the list of clubs so she'll get the calls out. If Nat's not at a club, I'll send some of our security team to look around in the neighborhoods near them."
"That's great." I rocked on my toes, trying to find a way to say, “Hey, guess what? I might be a witch.” Then I wimped out. "I appreciate all this. You don't have to."
His headshake was dismissive. "What did Cassandra say? Can she help?"
"Yes. Maybe. We can head over there in a minute." I patted the pocket with the silk-wrapped ring a little nervously.
"Don't you want to go now?"
"There's something I need to talk to you about first." I pulled out a chair from the kitchen table. "Maybe you should sit down."
He sat slowly. "Is this the conversation you've been ducking since last night?" His eyes seemed to be a cooler shade of blue.
I took a seat across from him, picked up a napkin ring to distract myself with. "I guess."
"Am I going to like it?"
I made myself meet his eyes. Cool. Very cool. "I don't know."
"Then you'd better tell me."
"Will you promise to hear me out before you say anything?"
He frowned. "All right. This isn't a 'Dear Damon' speech, is it?"
I managed half a smile. Because half of me was afraid that after he heard what I had to say, I might be the one getting dumped. "No."
"Then what?" He leaned back in his chair, the fingers of his right hand drumming a tattoo on his thigh.
"I don't know if your background check on me showed this, but I'll assume it didn't. My mother was a witch."
He went very still. I couldn't read a thing from him.
"Go on."
I sent the napkin ring spinning. "The thing is . . . the thing is, it turns out that maybe so am I."