Obsidian Prey

Chapter 37

"A HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLAR S." LYRA TUCKED VINCENT under one arm and drew her key out of her small black clutch. "I still can't believe it. A hundred grand for those three pictures, thanks to Mr. Anonymous. That dear, sweet man. I can't believe the way he kept upping the bid on the phone."

Cruz took the key from her to unlock her door. "Nothing like auction fever setting in to drive up the price."

"I know, but one hundred thousand hot smackaroos," she said, unable to contain her glee. "Nancy didn't think she'd get anywhere near that much for the pictures. Do you realize what this means?"

Nancy had been giddy after the auction. Jeff had invited her to a nearby tavern for a celebratory drink. She had not needed a second invitation.

"There's a standard split at art auctions," Cruz said. "A certain percentage goes to the seller, in this case, the artist. The gallery takes a hefty commission."

"Right, the artist." Lyra kissed Vincent's furry little head and plopped him on her shoulder. "He gets his cut, of course." As many cookies as he wants for the rest of his life, she thought. She moved briskly through the doorway. "But Nancy and I are splitting the commission, since I'm the one who introduced the artist to her. My share will be more than enough to pay off that dumb-ass lawyer. I'll even have enough left over to get my car fixed, pay off my debts, and buy some new furniture."

Cruz followed her through the doorway. "Let the good times roll."

He sounded amused. She rezzed a light and turned to look at him. He had worn formal black for the auction, once again the well-dressed assassin. His presence had been quickly noted by the other attendees.

"It was very kind of you to make that first bid," Lyra said. "It gave the whole event a lot of cachet. Once the others knew a Sweetwater was interested, they couldn't wait to start bidding."

"Glad I could get things rolling." He shrugged out of his black jacket and dropped it over the back of the reading chair the way he always did. Making himself at home. "Is there any of my Amber Dew left?" he asked, unknotting his tie.

A frisson of intimacy flickered across her senses. Once again they were acting like any other intimate couple after an evening out, although this particular evening out had begun with getting kidnapped by a crazy guru.

Given all the excitement, she should have anticipated that Cruz would insist on sticking around for the main event, the auction. His presence had made both Nancy and her nervous at first, in spite of the beneficial effect on the bidding. But after a while it became clear that he did not recognize the three paintings as Vincent's work. That was modern art for you, she thought happily. No one could tell the difference between a picture done by a human artist and one done by a dust bunny.

"I think of it as my Amber Dew, but the answer is yes," she said lightly. She set Vincent on the counter, opened the lid of the quartz jar, and took out a cookie. She gave the treat to Vincent and then headed for the bedroom to slip off her heels. "I wonder who he is," she said through the opaque screens.

A cupboard door opened in the kitchen. Glasses clinked.

"Who?" Cruz asked.

"The anonymous bidder." She walked out of the bedroom barefoot. "The one who got the three paintings."

Cruz came around the counter and handed one of the glasses to her. "Obviously someone who has expensive taste in modern art."

She raised her glass. "Here's to Mr. Anonymous. May he continue to collect modern art for decades to come."

Cruz touched his glass to hers. "To Chimera."

She managed, just barely, to avoid glancing at Vincent.

"To Chimera," she said smoothly. She raised the glass to her lips.

"And to us," Cruz added before she could take a sip.

She hesitated, searching for any and all possible traps. But, really, where was the harm in acknowledging their affair?

"Okay," she said.

"Nothing like a little enthusiasm in a woman," Cruz said.

She smiled. "To us."

They each took a sip. Cruz touched her lips with one finger.

"You are one of the gutsiest people I've ever met," he said gently. "Why are you so afraid of what's between us?"

"I'm not afraid," she said. "Oops. Almost forgot. There's something I've been meaning to do ever since we got out of the tunnels this afternoon."

She put the glass of Amber Dew on the counter, crossed the room to the coffee table, and picked up the vase of purple orchids.

"What are you going to do with those?" Cruz asked.

"Dump them in the garbage." She went into the kitchen and used the foot pedal to raise the lid of the trash can. She crammed the orchids inside and let the lid slam closed. "So much for modern romance."

"Quinn really called you his chosen bride?"

"Oh, yeah. Said we were destined to rule together with the power of the pyramids, or something quaint along those lines." She picked up her glass and went back across the room to the sofa. She sat down and propped her bare feet on the coffee table. "But you came back and ruined everything. Don't you dare laugh."

"Believe me, I'm not laughing. Got a hunch the bastard was going to kill you after you tuned the stones for him, though. I could feel his intent when I saw him with you in the chamber."

"Sadly, it turned out that I wasn't quite what he wanted in the way of a bride."

Cruz crossed the room and sank down beside her. "You're everything I want."

A shiver went through her.

"Cruz—"

"You are afraid to give us a second chance. Admit it."

She drank some of the liqueur. "The Dore luck, you know. Just can't depend on it."

His jaw tightened. "The Sweetwater luck doesn't seem to be working real well at the moment, either."

She stopped smiling. "Did you really think it would be that easy, Cruz?"

"No, I knew there would be a price to pay. I wouldn't have come here if I hadn't been prepared to pay it." He contemplated the liquid in his glass. "Which reminds me, I think the time has come to tell you a little more about my family."

She chuckled. "Okay, now you're starting to make me really nervous."

He did not say anything. Instead, he removed his shoes and put his feet up on the table beside hers.

She looked down and noticed the bottom edge of the leather knife sheath showing just below the cuff of his trousers. Her mouth went dry.

"And exactly why do you feel it necessary to have this conversation?" she asked.

"I'm serious about us. You and me. I'm hoping for a future together. That means you have a right to know everything."

"Is this some more of the dark family secret thing?" she asked warily.

"Yes," he said and lowered the glass. "I told you that my family has a long history in the security field."

She put her own glass down on the table. "You did mention the old family business. Out of pure curiosity, why was Big Jake so determined to get out of that line of work, anyway? Sounds like Sweetwaters had been successful in it for a few hundred years."

"We were." He looked at her. "But that kind of work eats away at your soul, even when you think you're doing it for all the right reasons."

"Yes," she said. "I can see where there would be a huge psychic price to pay. Nobody except a total sociopath gets away with killing another human being without getting hit with some blowback, even when the killing is justified." She shuddered. "I found that out, myself, this afternoon. I don't think I'll be sleeping well for a while."

"No," Cruz said. He covered her hand with one of his own. "But you won't be alone."

In the highly charged hours following the scene underground there had been no time to process the events, no time to absorb all the implications. Now it was hitting her hard.

She sighed. "I didn't know for sure that the pyramids would kill him."

Cruz just nodded. His hand tightened on hers.

"Right up until the last few seconds, I thought maybe the energy in the stones would just shatter his senses, probably permanently. Whatever happened, I knew he would never be the same. But I didn't know for certain that he would die."

"It's okay," Cruz said again. "I've been there. I understand."

She stilled. "You mean you've—?"

"Yes." He swirled the last of the Amber Dew in his glass and drank it down. He turned his head on the cushion to look at her. "The Sweetwaters' decision to go mainstream didn't change everything. The really bad guys, the psychic sociopaths, are still out there. And sometimes just finding hard evidence against them isn't enough. Sometimes the Arcane Society drugs aren't enough. Sometimes only a really powerful talent can track and take down another powerful talent."

She exhaled slowly. "What you're saying is that occasionally you still get called back into the old family business."

"Occasionally." He watched her. "But I swear to you we no longer take money for those jobs. I know it's a fine line, but to the family it's an important one."

"I see."

"You don't look all that shocked."

"You forget," she said quietly. "I've had some experience with the Sweetwater family, namely you and Jeff. I've tuned amber for both of you. You're arrogant, stubborn, and inclined to be annoyingly dictatorial, but you were obviously born with a psychic predisposition to serve and protect. You're the good guys. Like we in the tuning business say, it's in the psi."

"That's not what you were saying three months ago."

"I told you, I understand that you did what you thought you had to do three months ago."

"And I came back because there's something else I need to do now."

"What?"

"Make love to you."

He leaned over her and kissed her, a long, deep, aching kiss. Passion, heat, and energy swirled in the atmosphere. She felt the rush across all her senses and throughout her body. The sense of rightness shimmered through her.

Maybe she couldn't trust the Dore luck when it came to love, but the energy of desire between her and Cruz was real. The bond between them was real. It might not last forever, but she knew in her bones that she would never find another man like Cruz Sweetwater again. Dores might not be the luckiest people on the planet, but they weren't stupid. What was it Nancy had said? Time to go for the amber ring.

She put her arms around Cruz and kissed him back. He crushed her lightly down onto the cushions and started to move over her. A soft skittering sound from somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen made her freeze, her fingers buried in Cruz's hair.

"What?" he said, his lips on her throat.

"Vincent. We can't do this in front of him. He'll be embarrassed."

"He's a dust bunny. I doubt if he knows the meaning of embarrassed."

"Okay, I'll be embarrassed."

There was a few seconds of stillness before Cruz finally moved.

"Right," he said.

He rolled to his feet, picked her up, and carried her into the screened bedroom. In the shadows he undressed her slowly, sliding the black gown down over her hips. The dark fabric pooled on the floor around her bare feet. He unhooked the lacy black bra next and tossed it onto the dresser.

When he put his powerful hands on her breasts, a tremor of exquisite delight surged through her. She undid his shirt with shaking fingers and slipped her hands beneath the fabric. His skin was warm, the muscles of his chest sleek and hard.

He went down on one knee in front of her and kissed her stomach. She felt him hook his thumbs in the waistband of her black panties and draw them down to her ankles. And then his hand was between her legs, urging her thighs apart. She could feel her own liquid heat and knew that his fingers were already slick with it. The flare of urgent tension inside her made her dig her nails into his shoulders.

"Cruz." She closed her eyes against the surging energy. She could barely stand.

He rose, picked her up, and settled her on the bed. She opened her eyes and watched, enthralled, as he unbuckled his belt and stripped off his clothing and the knife sheath with a resolute efficiency and speed that spoke volumes about his own level of arousal.

And then he was on the bed with her, his rigid erection pressed against her hip, his lips on her breast.

"Trust me," he whispered against her throat. "We're meant for each other."

At least for tonight, she thought. And maybe tomorrow night, maybe for a week, a month. Who knew? She refused to look any further into the future.

She moved her hand down his hard, lean body, savoring the tautness of muscle and skin. He shuddered when she wrapped her fingers around him and stroked gently. She sensed his aura flaring, hot and dark with desire. For me, she thought. Of that much she could be certain. Tonight Cruz wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

The heat flaring between them was so intense that it left a sheen of perspiration on their bodies and dampened the sheets. When Cruz finally moved on top of her, looming over her in the darkness, gathering her close, all of her senses were thrilled. And then he was pushing slowly, heavily into her, stretching her, filling her, joining with her in ways that swept far beyond the physical.

This was so much more than sex. The shatteringly intense intimacy stole her breath. Nothing had changed since he had left three months ago. She loved this man. She would love him all of her life, regardless of what happened between them tomorrow or next week.

"Tell me that you know that what we have together is real," he whispered against her throat. "Give me that much tonight."

"This is real," she said.

It was the truth. She knew he must have sensed it in her aura. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of his ring. Green fire glowed in the depths of the black amber.

Moments later her release flashed through her in small shock waves. Her climax triggered his own. He followed her into the glorious aurora.