“Mads, please! It’s me! Don’t you—”
“I said, get out!” Her voice breaks with the aggression, making me want to cover my ears so I don’t have to hear it.
I must visibly wince, and so does Killian, his brows knitting together. “That’s…not a great sign,” he says at last.
“No,” I say. “No, it’s not. I’m going to have to try talking to her again.”
I start for the stairs, but Killian grabs my wrist. “Are you sure?” he asks.
“What choice do I have?” I ask.
His silence is my answer, and we wordlessly make our way to the first-floor landing. More shouting and pleading can be heard from behind Mads’s closed door even as we approach. “Mads, stop! I love you!”
“I don’t even know you!”
I have my hand up to knock on the door when this last shout hits me, and my hand falls to my side, my eyes closing in the face of hopelessness. “Maybe later,” Killian suggests, taking my hand gently. “Give her some time.”
I can only nod despairingly as we continue down the hall, remembering the painting a split second before the hand reaches out and gropes for Killian. He jumps, startled, as I pull him away, and then looks from me to the painting and starts laughing. “Well,” he remarks, “that’s new.”
“Welcome to the Kismet home,” I say sarcastically. “It’s a death trap, but it’s our death trap.”
Killian actually laughs at that as we round the corner into my room. I shut the door behind me with a defeated sigh and sink onto my bed, dropping my head into my hands. Killian stands by the closet for a moment, hesitating, before he takes a seat next to me. “She’s going to be okay,” he tells me, although he doesn’t sound sure. “You guys have made it through worse scrapes than this.”
“Maybe,” I say, not looking at him. “I can’t say the same for the people in that city, though.”
“Hey,” he says, taking my face in his hands, “don’t go there, Karma. Do you hear me? That wasn’t your fault.”
“It wasn’t?” I demand, feeling like I’m going to cry. “I was the one who got those powers. I was the one who unleashed them on San Francisco. That was my choice.”
“You didn’t have a choice,” Killian insists. “If you did, you wouldn’t have done it.”
“How do you know?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Because I know you, Karma,” Killian replies in a heady tone. That simple assurance is all that it takes, and the next thing I know my lips are colliding with his, my hands exploring his body with desperation as he pulls me close. His tongue grazes my lip as his fingers tangle in my hair, our bodies flush against each other as we fall back on the bed. I’m not sure when or how our clothes come off—we’re too caught up in the moment—but it happens, and as his kisses stray lower, first to my neck, then over my stomach, before his head settles between my legs, I can’t help the moan that escapes me. I’m so wound up that I feel like I’m going to explode, from the guilt, the tension, and the fear, and right now, Killian feels like refuge.
I gasp his name as he sets to work on my clit, his tongue moving with deft precision as a finger glides up inside me. I buck into his touch, pleasure already overtaking my body as I arch my back and tangle my hands in his hair, lost in the feeling of him. He seems to be enjoying it just as much, pausing only to lift his head, meet my eyes, and tell me, without a hint of insincerity, “You’re…unbelievable, Karma.”
I continue to squirm at his touch until he brings me right to the edge, seemingly aware that I’m about to come, and moves back up, his lips pressing to mine. A shiver goes through me at the feeling of him pushing inside me, his mouth stifling the moan that escapes me, and within seconds, our bodies are connected, with Killian moving inside me like I’m the only thing in the world. I don’t last long, coming in a rush, and when Killian finishes, he leans down and presses his forehead to mine. I’m not sure how long we remain like that, catching our breaths and staring into each other’s eyes, but it doesn’t matter. He’s here, and that’s all I need right now.
Chapter 61
I’m not expecting to sleep, but I do. The surprises never end, it seems, although in hindsight I’m not sure why I am surprised. Good sex has always made me sleepy—I’m definitely more of a “snuggle and spend the night” type than an “out the door as soon as the deed is done” type. This, combined with the fact that I slept fitfully last night, is a damn near lethal combination, and even after I wriggle back into my underwear and a tank top, I feel like I can barely move. Killian pulls his boxers back on and lies back on the bed, opening his arm to me in a silent invitation. I don’t need telling twice, and wordlessly I crawl over to him, curling up at his side and resting my head against his muscular chest. His body is warm, almost feverish from the heat of the moment, and that’s exactly what I need right now. It’s curtains as soon as he pulls the covers over us, even in spite of his reassurances that he’s “just going to rest his eyes for a while,” and within minutes I’m sound asleep, lulled by the quiet sound of his breath and the steady rise and fall of his chest. This time, I don’t have any dreams, something I’m more grateful for than I can express, and even if it’s just for a couple of hours, the world is quiet for a while.
Eventually I stir, exhaling loudly as I burrow my face into Killian’s chest. It’s still light out—probably early in the afternoon, if I had to guess—but if we don’t get up now, we’ll be running the risk of spending the whole day in bed. Not a horrible idea when my bedmate is someone as sexy as Killian is, but like it or not, there are more important things to deal with right now. One of which is restrained and incoherent a few rooms down the hall. Shifting a little, I run a hand up Killian’s chest, surprised when I hear a stifled snort of laughter. “What?” I demand, looking up at him.
“Nothing,” he says, looking a little sheepish. “I’m ticklish.”
My eyes widen. “Seriously? You, one of the infamous gods of justice, ticklish?”
“Sure,” he replies. “I’m not made of rock, you know.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to the base of his neck.
Killian groans and drops his head back, letting out a long, blissful sigh as he stares up at the ceiling. I can feel his hands on my back, gently tracing the form of my body from my shoulder blades down to my fingertips. “These are new,” he observes, interlacing his fingers with mine and holding our joined hands up. The tattoos almost seem to move in the light, the vibrant green striking a sharp contrast against my ivory skin.
“Believe me, it wasn’t a conscious choice,” I tell him.
Killian raises his eyebrows. “Really?”
I shake my head. “They just sort of…appeared when I activated Neritous’s device. I think they have something to do with Storm’s mother’s magic.” I sigh. “I wish they were gone.”
“I don’t,” Killian replies. “They look good on you.”
“Gee, thanks,” I mutter, rolling over and sitting up. “I’m so glad my magical aesthetic choices have your approval.”
He laughs. “I’m just saying…might as well look on the bright side, right? You look badass with tattoos.”
I give him a small smile. “Thanks. Doesn’t make it any easier, though.”
“I know,” he says, and I can tell by the tone of his voice that he means it. “We’re going to find a way out of this, Karma. We always do.”
“I hope you’re right,” I tell him, without a hint of humour. “I’m starting to doubt if we ever will.”
He catches hold of my wrist in his hand, his thumb grazing over the delicate skin as if I were some kind of rare and exotic flower. There’s something unreadable in his eyes, but I don’t dare ask him what he’s thinking about. “We survived the prison,” he tells me at last. “We survived Xur. We can survive this.”
“Did we?” I ask him, my tone a little more biting than I was intending. “I mean, yeah, we got out of the prison, and then what happened? We ended up captured by Xur. Now we’ve gotten away from Xur, and Neritous has me under his thumb. What if we never did make it out? We’ve been prisoners this whole time–the only thing that’s changed is where we’re being held captive.”
