“I did not die, and yet I lost life’s breath”
― Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy
My knees threatened to give out, as he pushed his hard body closer. His mouth captured mine in a hard, demanding kiss. Over the past twelve months, I swore not to let this happen to me again, to endanger my life like this, but in that moment the heat sizzled my blood before my mind could grasp what I was doing. Zachary pushed his hips towards me, and I moaned, aware of the hard bulge pressing over the spot between my legs.
I was losing my fucking mind. This human was obnoxious, paranoid and was a complete alpha, but whatever he was doing to me restarted my heart, bringing it thudding back to life. His hand reached out, smoothing down the lines of my hips, as his kiss grew harder, clouding my judgment. He slid his arms around me and grabbed my butt cheeks, lifting me up and carrying me across the room and pushing me down on the table.
My demonic soul unleashed sparks, my skin grew hotter, blood boiled as he began to thrust his body against mine, the delicious friction giving us a taste of what was to come, both of us breathing hard.
My hands busied themselves diving into his curls, tangling his hair as he covered my neck with his lips. His kisses pushed me further, consuming my mind with unexpected passion. I shut my eyes, as liquid heat filled every nook of my oversensitive weak body. Finally there were no flashbacks, no bad memories—in that one sweet moment there was just me, enjoying making out with this glorious male specimen.
He sucked on my bottom lip, moving his hand underneath my T-shirt, circling his rough fingers around my hardened nipple. The pressure between my legs grew with every passing moment. I wanted him to tear my clothes apart, to fuck me hard in his home, on this table. The consequences didn’t matter anymore. Our attraction was explosive and we needed to become one.
Then we both heard the loud knock and a second later the vase on the table crashed to the floor. Zachary pulled away; his eyes bored into mine intensely as he tried to catch his breath. It took me couple of seconds to pull myself back together, to actually remember that I was supposed to keep breathing. I held the heat from his lips that was now boiling in my veins, burning like hot coals on the soles of my feet. I couldn’t remember when I ever lost control like that before. Zachary brushed his finger over my cheek and then winked at me.
“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” he said, his voice hoarse.
My T-shirt was lifted, revealing my bare stomach, and my hair was a tangled mess when I jumped off the table and glanced at the mirror. A second ago, I thought that he was ready to kill me, and then the sudden anger transformed into passion, stealing away the arguments and his unexplained frustration. No, I couldn’t keep doing this to myself. I had failed myself once, and now I was pushing something that could never work.
“Hello, handsome. I know I meant to call, but I was in the area and I thought that I would just pop in.” I heard the feminine, seductive voice coming from the threshold. My heart hadn’t stopped pounding yet, and my oversensitive abilities alerted me that there were more than two horny people inside Zach’s house now.
A second later a very human woman entered the living room. She had bleached blond hair cut nicely in a trend bob, her beautiful face was made up immaculately, and she wore a very short skirt that barely covered her thighs. She raised her left eyebrow, eyeing me up and down from the short distance. Zachary was right behind her, his eyes still filled with brewing fire.
There was a slight pause as she opened her mouth then closed it. My tangled clothes gave away the fact that just a moment ago, I was lost in the swirl of a passionate embrace with the man of the house. It was easy to read that it wasn’t the first time the woman had been here. She was Zach’s regular.
“Oh sorry, darling, I had no idea that you had company,” she sang with a very annoying high-pitched tone of voice. At that point I was lucid enough to get the fuck out of there. I needed to regroup as soon as I could.
“No worries, I was just leaving actually,” I said.
“Maxine, wait—”
“It was nice meeting you,” I cut him off, and rushed out before things got more awkward. Whatever he wanted to say, it didn’t matter. It was a spur of a moment lapse in judgment. We both lost control of our bodies. I flew through the door, aware that the woman in his living room was his usual fuck buddy. Her vibes were crystal clear and I didn’t want to stamp into that territory.
I had been played, possibly by someone that wanted to see me down or possibly by Rodriguez himself. Whoever was working against me knew about my affair with the prince. Rumours at the palace had circulated, as no one could explain why I left my post so suddenly.
Zach and his demons weren’t my problem. Missing Prince George was and I couldn’t afford to get distracted. I had broken the rules once, and I paid the price and suffered until this day. The factions were designed to keep demons under control so that would help to keep order on earth, and I had to protect my wounded past. My future was at stake, and the future of others.
I couldn’t afford to make another mistake like that, especially with another human, and especially with a man like Zachary Quinton. I headed through the dark estate, ready to get lost and never face another day like this again.
The next two days passed in a haze, and it seemed like I was stuck in my flat for a long seventy-two hours. My phone kept ringing, but I didn’t answer any calls. When I got home the night I made out with Zach, I sent Ricky a quick text message, telling him that I wasn’t going to be in the office on Saturday. At times we had an understanding. I mentioned that I was planning to work on our case on my own, that I needed some time alone.
I didn’t hear back from Zach and maybe that was for the best. He took away my focus. After the episode with the royal family things became complicated and I kept reminding myself that I had been happy before. Paul came to visit me and he even brought bottles filled with the magic elixir that was supposed to keep me sane for a while. When the sun went down and I was intoxicated enough, I wandered off, searching for new clues, talking to old contacts, hoping to find something that could lead me to the elusive missing Prince George. It was a productive weekend in terms of drinking and working, but no one was willing to talk. I didn’t play poker that weekend and it was a first for me.
I woke up much more sober than usual on Sunday morning. It felt strange to open my eyes with a clear head. Normally during these drunken phases I was able to block out my toxic thoughts, but that morning everything came back. When I checked my phone, there was a text message from Emma. Ricky must have given her my number. Her daughter’s birthday party was today and she just texted me her home address with millions of smiley emoticons.
Yet again, I had forgotten that I made a promise to be there. Now this didn’t seem like a very good idea, but I couldn’t disappoint another person. She made an effort, probably slaved over decorations and food, so this was the least I could do.
After a quick shower, I pulled my tangled hair into a messy bun, put some clean clothes on and headed out. The first stop was to the toy shop. I had no idea what a little girl Emma’s daughter’s age needed, so I bought Barbie dolls, three in case she didn’t like what I had chosen for her. My chest was tight when I was paying for it. Luckily the stash of a very small emergency fund allowed me not to look like a complete dick in front of other guests.
Emma lived in Greenwich, and I had to walk half a mile from the tube station to get to her place. All the way I kept telling myself that I should turn around, that this wasn’t a good idea. My previous experience taught me that I wasn’t quite myself when I was around other mothers. My anxiety shot up when I stood in front of an old terrace house an hour later, fighting with my thoughts, trying to act like this wasn’t an issue for me. After a couple of deep breaths I forced myself to knock. I was late, but I was much more sober than I usually would be for this time of day. Maybe that was part of the problem, showing up and expecting to be treated like someone that fit in. Several moments later Ricky opened the door, holding a glass of champagne in his right hand.
“Maxine, what a treat. I wasn’t expecting to see you here today,” he said, looking good in his blue sweater and black trousers. I shoved the present into his chest.
“I was invited, but what are you doing here yourself?”
He gave me his mischievous smile.
“I was invited too. The little girl is quite adorable. Besides there are at least a dozen mothers out in the living room, very yummy mummies, if you know what I’m saying.” He winked at me. I rolled my eyes as he shut the door. A few seconds later Emma strolled through the corridor, wearing a lemon dress, a red birthday hat on her head.
“Max, oh, I’m so glad to see you. I hope you didn’t have to walk far. Come … come meet Suzi and the others. OMG, I’m so excited. I hired a proper magician, and everyone is dying to meet you. They love Ricky …”
She was still talking, dragging me through the house filled with balloons, cards and some other decorative crap. Emma’s place was decent enough. It was an old Victorian terrace house filled with a lot of clutter, funky furniture and sparkly clothes. For a split second I imagined myself in her skin, living this ordinary life and waking up happy. This whole life was tempting, but I wasn’t cut out for a life like that. I wasn’t the type of woman that needed any semblance of normality.
In the light, spacious living room a dozen pairs of human eyes landed on me as Emma began introducing me around. The kids were running up and down, screaming and giggling. All the mothers were typical homemakers, ordinary, not the high-end class like I was expecting, which was a good thing.
“So you and that handsome partner of yours are running the detective agency, right?” asked a guest called Lucy. The woman was in her mid-thirties with a bad perm and overdrawn dark eyebrows. She was on her second glass of wine and she was worried that her husband would scream about the fact that she had one too many.
“Yeah, Doomed Cases. We have run it for a few years, but only recently has the business picked up,” I explained, grabbing a glass of champagne. My head was fuzzy, and the temperature of my body was shooting up. Something else burned the back of my mind, the dooming guilt.
“Wow, that’s a very spooky name. It sounds like you’re dealing with magical stuff,” she whispered, giggling. I gave her a weak smile.
“Some of my clients can be spooky,” I admitted, hoping that she would drop the subject.
“Suzi, this is Aunt Maxine from work. She brought you Barbie dolls for your birthday,” Emma jumped in, beaming with pride. I looked down at the small blond creature that was looking at me with her huge brown eyes, holding the dolls in her tiny hands. The wave of emotions suddenly made me sick as memories flooded my head.
“I like your hair. I want to have colours like that when I’m older,” the child said, swinging her body from right to the left, staring up at my hair in amazement.
I swallowed hard, pushing myself to get a fucking grip. This wasn’t supposed to make me teary at all.
“I prefer yours. The blond curls are super awesome, like your Barbie’s hair,” I replied, most likely sounding like an idiot, but at that point I didn’t care anymore. I needed my tequila or a shotgun.
The girl grinned, mumbled something else about playing with her later, and then ran away. Emma squeezed my shoulder. She was so happy, so relaxed about everything, standing next to the person that was so damaged that she couldn’t even have a proper conversation with a five-year-old child.
“Oh, Maxine, she loves them. Thank you again for coming. All the mums love Ricky. I bet you can’t wait to have your own kids?”
I then proceeded to choke on the champagne so hard that Ricky had to come to my rescue. By that time one of the children dropped something in the kitchen and all Emma’s attention was luckily diverted away from me.
“Come on, let’s go to the garden. You need some fresh air, sugar plum,” Ricky muttered, using his own powers to stop me from getting choked up. I grabbed a few more glasses of the bubbly and drank them all in one go. The human alcohol was too weak to numb the turmoil in my heart, but at least it smoothed my crappy mood.
“Just say it; I know you want to,” I said to him once we were away from the crowd, standing under a wide tree.
Ricky rubbed his clean-shaven jaw, and drank some more. “I won’t. I know that you’re picking yourself up at your own pace,” he said. “I went to The Broken Shoe a couple of nights ago. Paul said that on Wednesday night you went home with a certain individual. The troublemaker?”
Fucking Paul and his big mouth. Why on earth did he have to say anything to Ricky?
“Yeah, I couldn’t get rid of him after I beat him in poker,” I said. “Don’t worry, he behaved and we are a team now.”
Ricky then touched my cheek and turned my face, so I couldn’t avoid looking at him.
“Maxine, are you all right with this? Being here? You should have told Emma that you were sick. You didn’t have to come,” he said. Yeah, Ricky had read me and he was simply asking me if I could handle being the other Maxine, the one with a heavy load on her shoulders.