Patti O'Shea
action romance author
Through a Crimson Veil Excerpt
Frowning, he reached into one of the kitchen cabinets,
pulled out a plastic glass and put it on the table. For a few days, he
didn't have to worry about B-Ops or alliances—he'd just be protecting
Mika. A nice, straightforward job.
He snorted at that thought. It had been maybe fourteen hours since he'd
met her and she'd already turned his life upside down.
Taking out a carton of orange juice, he filled his cup to the top, then
returned it to the fridge before settling in the wooden chair facing the
hallway. Something made him freeze—a shift in the energy maybe—but as he
tried to focus, he heard the bathroom door open and he lost the sense. Had
it even been there? He shrugged and raised his glass as Mika made her
entrance.
His body jolted, sending a wave of juice over his hand to pool on the
wooden surface of the table. Quickly, he put down the cup, in order to
stare unimpeded. Her legs looked impossibly long and he let his eyes trail
slowly over every inch of them. By the time his gaze reached the edge of
her red, high-cut panties, his jeans had become restrictive. He shifted in
his chair, trying to give himself more room.
Her midriff was bare, her skin golden. He moved on and saw she was wearing
a red tank top that ended above her navel. It clung to her, especially her
breasts, and outlined her beaded nipples. More blood surged away from his
brain. He wanted his mouth on her, wanted it bad.
Reluctantly, he moved on and saw her dark hair was sexily mussed, her eyes
heavy-lidded. It was probably from sleep, but it made her appear even
sultrier. Conor swallowed hard as she started walking toward him. For a
moment, he was mesmerized by the sway of her hips, then he snapped out of
it.
"What the hell are you wearing?" His voice came out a combination of rasp
and growl, but he was relieved he could form a coherent sentence. He slid
the chair back from the table far enough to reach the dish towel looped
through the oven handle and wiped the orange juice off his hand.
"What's wrong with my pajamas?" She stopped in front of him and rested her
hip lightly against the table. Mika looked confused, but that was
bullshit.
"Pajamas? That's underwear. Go put some clothes on."
"Everything's covered. Besides, women wear less than this at the beach
every day."
"We're not at the beach." He forced that out one word at a time.
She smiled, and Conor tensed, but although he realized she was up to
something, he wasn't prepared for it. Before he could react, Mika
straddled him. It was a bold action except for one thing—she stayed an
arm's length away.
He dropped the towel he held and took her waist, but instead of lifting
her off his lap, he drew her tightly against his body until her breasts
pressed against his chest. Nothing before in his life had ever felt so
damn good. He managed to stop his groan, but not the shudder. She smiled
at his reaction and nipped his chin. He hated that he wasn't indifferent
to it, hated that Mika's teeth on his skin made him that much hotter, but
Conor arched forward anyway.
Why her? He'd been immune to the few other female demons he'd seen, but
from the instant he'd sensed Mika, Conor had been on the edge of control.
"Stop that," he said, but wasn't surprised she ignored him. Even he could
hear the lack of conviction in his tone.
Her mouth moved up his jaw line, kissing, licking and nipping at him.
Conor had his hands on her waist again and he stroked the bare skin over
her spine, tracing each of her vertebrae. He was losing himself in her
when he felt the disturbance again. It had something to do with the
protective barrier around his house, but he couldn't figure out what. It
was tamper-proof. Or close to it.
He attempted to zero in on what he sensed, but Mika reached his ear and
traced the outside edge with her tongue. He shuddered more strongly this
time and his hands went to her hips, pulling her against his erection. She
eased back, letting him see her smile, then rocked her body into his.
Conor wouldn't have guessed he could get any harder, but she showed him
differently. His world narrowed to Mika. To the feel of her curves against
him, the sight of her eyes glowing and red, the scent of her arousal. She
took his mouth in a kiss that was as wild and unrestrained as he felt. At
first, he tried to hold back, tried to keep from scaring her, then he
realized he didn't have to do that—his relentless hunger wouldn't
frighten her. The part of him that was Kiverian strained at its tether.
That shook him enough to knock him out of the sensual daze.
Breaking the kiss, he said, "That's enough."
It wasn't, not even close, but he couldn't risk it, couldn't let his demon
nature loose. Mika was bad for him. Very bad. And she still leaned into
him, tempting him to throw control aside and take what he wanted with
every cell of his being.
His grip tightened and he shifted her back so she wasn't molded to his
torso. He nearly groaned a protest at the separation, but closed his eyes
and fought the need.
Mika didn't help. Although he kept her from sliding forward again, her
hands were roaming his chest and belly, even dipping beneath the waistband
of his jeans. He pinned her with a hard stare. His resolve faltered for a
moment as he saw the thick glaze of arousal in her eyes, but he said,
"Stay still."
She listened. That shocked the hell out of him before he realized that she
was probably trying to keep him off-balance. It worked. He didn't know
which end was up right now. "You're trouble," he told her, voice still
thick with need.
"Why? Because when you're with me, you actually start to feel things? That
means you're alive."
"No." He shook his head, denying what she'd said.
"Yes. Look at you, Conor. Your eyes are burning red fire, your skin is
flushed and—"
His whole body went rigid. Immediately, she tensed and stopped talking. He
knew she was trying to sense what had caught his attention. Conor forced
his awareness of her out of his mind; he couldn't afford the distraction.
It was definitely his protective shield and someone was testing it. If he
had to make a guess, he'd say they were probing it, trying to find if
there was a weakness and where. He simply needed to figure out who or what
was out there.
As hard as he focused, though, he couldn't get a good read on the energy.
Whoever it was had shielded himself, and done a damn good job of it. That
tipped the odds in favor of his uninvited guest being a demon. If he
weren't in tune with his security, he might not have picked up on it at
all.
"What is it?" she whispered.
Conor shook his head, silently telling her to stay quiet. The fact that
Mika didn't sense anything wrong reinforced his belief that it was his
familiarity with his defense that allowed him to pick up the problem. He
should go outside and check, but he hesitated. If he left her alone, and
if somehow whoever it was made it through the barrier, she'd be virtually
helpless.
Okay, as helpless as a demon could be.
He was under no illusions about Mika's nature. She might be on the lighter
end of the spectrum, but she could kill. Maybe not in cold blood, but in
self-defense, hell, yeah.
But if this was the same demon that had set that snare they'd run into
last night, she wouldn't stand a chance. It wouldn't matter what kind of
powers she had or how skilled she was with them, he'd have her in seconds.
Conor wasn't positive even he could battle something that dark and
survive, but his odds were a damn sight better than Mika's.
No, he decided, he'd stick with her until he was positive his protection
wouldn't be breached, then after the intruder was gone, Conor could look
around and see if he'd left any evidence.
He breathed a silent sigh of relief when the would-be trespasser gave up.
His shield had held. As soon as he relaxed, Mika did as well. Her arms
went around his neck and she rested her forehead against his. She was
plastered against him, and Conor cursed silently. He'd done it again,
drawn her close.
"What was it?"
"Someone was trying to bypass my security. Probably to get to you." He ran
his palm down the length of her hair a couple of times, letting the soft
strands slide between his fingers.
"Me?" She straightened and his hand fell to her waist as she studied him.
"Are you sure about that? Maybe it was someone after you. I mean, I only
hired you last night," she added quickly. "That would be fast to find me
here."
"Maybe." He shrugged. "But don't take the potential threat lightly. The
timing is too coincidental, and after running into that trap keyed for
you, I think it's more likely you're the target. Just because neither one
of us sensed a tail when we walked here, doesn't mean there wasn't someone
cloaking."
"True," she agreed. She smiled mischievously, moved her hand to his nape
and toyed with his hair. "So what's the plan for tonight? There's only a
few hours until the sun goes down."
"You're staying in the house until this whole situation is resolved. Think
of it as protective custody," he added at her frown. "I'm going out to see
what I can scare up about any Kiverians that have arrived in Crimson City
recently. I'm guessing your stalker came from Orcus." Damn, he should have
asked these questions last night. Conor frowned. She'd messed up his head
till he could barely think.
Mika nodded and he wasn't surprised by her answer. If there had been a
Kiverian in the Overworld, he would have hunted it.
"What did he look like?"
"I don't know."
"How can you not know?" When her eyes started dancing with amusement, he
realized she'd picked up on his frustration and sighed. Now he was in for
it.
"Some demons can shapeshift."
"Yeah, but you should be able to see through it." It was damn hard for one
demon to fool another. Illusion didn't work at all and it took a hell of a
lot of energy, not to mention, concentration, to stay completely hidden
from one of their kind—it was why demons rarely fought each other while
cloaked. Shapeshifting would take even more power, and while they had
unlimited energy, the ability to use that much of it for an extended
period of time was uncommon.
"I couldn't," she disagreed. Mika trailed a fingernail across his nape and
a shiver went through him. "I was too busy fighting to stay alive and
looking for a way to escape him."
Shit, he hadn't considered that. Mika would have had more on her mind than
seeing through an illusion. But that raised more questions than it
answered. "What about while you were mouthing off to him? Was he cloaked
then? And why did he disguise himself to attack you?"
"I don't know."
She shrugged, her breasts moving against his bare chest. The flimsy tank
top she wore teased him, and he took hold of the hem, ready to tug it over
her head, before he realized what he was doing. Conor released the cloth
and took his hands off her.
"Give me a break. Just because I didn't question you last night, doesn't
mean you're off the hook. You want me on the job, then give me the
information I need to take care of things."
"I don't like to talk about it," she said.
She looked uneasy, but how much of that was real, and how much was some
act? "Let's start with the basics. Where were you when you first saw this
Kiverian?"
"Biirkma." A rumbling noise escaped him and she quickly added, "It's a
major city in Orcus. Unless you're familiar with it, what good does it do
to be more specific? If I tell you I was in a square near the palace, does
that mean anything to you?"
"You have a point. So he insulted your mother and you made a few smart-ass
remarks?" Mika nodded and squirmed a little on his lap. "Okay, he wasn't
shapeshifting during this time, right?"
"No, but I'm not sure I can describe him. I wasn't paying attention until
he confronted me, and as soon as I realized he was looking for trouble, I
started trying to get away from him. I'm a weak demon," Mika said,
sounding apologetic.
"Of course, you didn't realize he was looking for trouble until after you
lipped off."
Her contrition increased. "I'm Mahsei. We're impulsive."
Conor took a deep breath and realized he was getting sidetracked again.
That happened a lot around Mika. "Describe him. Give me his height,
weight, hair and eye colors."
"He was maybe your height, but not as big as you are. His hair was dark,
and he wore it long." Mika shrugged. "I can't say what color his eyes
were. It was night."
"You've just described about half the male demons," he commented, voice
neutral. "It seems to me that since you were targeted, you would have paid
more attention to detail."
She shrugged. "There was a lot going on."
Conor bit back a curse. "Let's try this instead. How did you and the
Kiverian get across the veil?"
"My dad can do summonings. How do you think he met my mom? As for the
Kiverian, he must have a human minion."
Looking past Mika's shoulder, Conor considered her answer. It wasn't quite
as easy as she made it sound. First off, minion wasn't all that accurate a
term. Though they probably wished otherwise, the residents of Orcus
couldn't control these people. Secondly, not just anyone could
successfully call out demons—only those who had an innate magical
ability. Few humans fell into that category, and most of those were too
well-trained to be used. Even the handful who were open to trading a
summoning for a favor knew enough to put tight boundaries on the demon.
"So you're saying your fath—"
Mika rocked her pelvis against his and he swallowed a curse. His response
made her smile before she trailed her mouth over his left shoulder and
upper arm, down to his biceps. She bit the muscle and Conor lost his train
of thought. All he could think about was how her position gave him access
to a wide expanse of bare skin. He gave her a love nip on the curve where
her neck met her shoulder, then pulled away, appalled. Even though he was
half Kiverian, he didn't bite women. Ever. Until today.
"Stop," he ordered.
She didn't. Instead she used her teeth another time. He felt the beast
inside him struggling for freedom and it scared him how strong that side
of him was. It would swamp him, take him over, he didn't doubt that.
"Mika."
When she ran her tongue over his collarbone, he knew she planned to ignore
him. It was time for drastic measures. Conor took hold of her waist,
picked her up, and as he stood, he sat her on the table. Her eyes widened
and she gasped. That's when he remembered the large pool of orange juice.
He didn't apologize. "Maybe that will cool you off," he said, taking
another step back. Three feet didn't seem a safe enough distance, not how
he reacted to her.
"Conor," she purred with a smile that made him twitch, "there are more
pleasurable ways to get my panties wet."
He opened his mouth, then shut it again without speaking. As he took in
the tousled hair, her softly glowing eyes, that tempting grin and her
incredible body, he knew there was only one thing for a smart man to do.
Retreat.
Her laughter followed him as he fled the kitchen.
This excerpt is from THROUGH A CRIMSON VEIL
by Patti O'Shea
Love Spell
Copyright October 2005
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