Sins of the Flesh

“Given that you clearly view me as that adversary, and your weapon is likely to end up somewhere I won’t enjoy…that would be a yes.” He leaned close enough that he could breathe in the scent of her skin. The faintest hint of vanilla. It made his mouth water, luring him to take a taste.

He dipped his head just a little, breathing in. Damn, she smelled good.

“Just stay behind me, pretty girl,” he murmured. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“I haven’t relied on someone else to keep me safe since I was a child.” The words dripped ice.

And that pretty much used up any opportunity for conversation because the smell of brimstone carried on the wind, confirming his suspicion about the identity of the new arrivals. The air crackled, electric and wild.

“The guy you mentioned earlier. Big Ralph. He have any connection to Xaphan?” Mal asked. Because brimstone meant they were about to face off with the keeper of the lakes of fire. Or his minions.

“I have no knowledge of any such connection. Big Ralph is Asmodeus’s man.” She shrugged. “But it’s not outside the realm of possibility that he’s done work for Xaphan.”

He waited a beat for her to ask why he’d asked. She didn’t. Which annoyed him. Why didn’t she act like most other females he knew? Chat. Ask questions. Demand answers.

With most females, he felt as if he was in the comfort zone, as though he knew what to expect and how to play them.

With Calliope Kane, he felt as though he didn’t.

“I ask because we’re about to have company.”

“About to?” Her tone was so dry that he half expected her to spit sand. Her gaze shifted to a point over his shoulder. “I’d say they’re already here.”

“Hello, Mal,” another voice purred.

A voice he recognized. With a sigh, Mal turned. The creature before him was female. She had been born human but was no longer. Now she was a fire genie, one of Xaphan’s concubines.

Nerita was incredible, in her own terrifying and lethal way. And she had once been his lover. With once being the key concept. He’d come away from that encounter scorched in the most literal sense. It had taken him two days to fully heal from his burns. And having been with a fire genie before, he knew they could dampen their flame if they wished. Which meant Nerita had turned him into barbecued roast on purpose. Not his thing…so he hadn’t gone back for a repeat. Unfortunately, she was one of the few females he’d hooked up with who hadn’t been willing to accept the fact that it was a one-time event.

“Nerita,” he greeted her and offered one of his slow, lazy smiles. He sensed Calliope moving closer to him, almost touching his back. Maybe she’d decided to take his advice to stay behind him, but somehow, he couldn’t make himself believe that. Great. That meant he had to watch his back as carefully as he was watching his front.

Nerita wasn’t smiling; in fact, she looked downright pissed. An annoyed former lover was never a good thing.

She strode forward, her body sleekly muscled, a predator’s form. Her skin was a deep burgundy red, smooth and supple as the most expensive leather. Her feet were bare, and her toes and fingers sprouted long, black, lethal talons.

Behind her was a cadre of fire genies, all of them fairly humming with anticipation. They were spoiling for a fight.

“What can I do for you lovely ladies?” Mal asked.

“We want Kuznetsov. Turn him over, and we leave.”

“What makes you think we have Kuznetsov?”

Nerita waved a hand toward the Porsche. “He’s sitting naked in the passenger seat.”

There was that.

Nerita strode closer, hips swaying. Her gaze flicked beyond him for an instant then returned to his face. Which told Mal that she’d assessed Calliope and determined that he was the greater threat.

He felt Calliope’s hands on both sides of his waist, then lower, along the curves of his hip bones, her fingers sliding forward. Give the lady top marks for effort. She was making a play for her knives. With a grin tugging at his lips, he closed his fingers on her wrist, stopping her quest. Her other hand dipped forward, her fingers snagging on his pocket. He caught that wrist as well and squeezed tight enough to offer a warning, but not tight enough to hurt.

Then he felt her breath against the back of his neck as she spoke in a whisper. “Silly. Little. Boy.”

He was about to correct her when Nerita pulled a fireball out of thin air and balanced it on the palm of her hand.

“Neat trick,” he said. “Nice to know you’ve still got a bit of fire in you.”

“Give me the Setnakht, Mal. Xaphan told me not to return without him.”

“I have former claim. And if I didn’t, Aset does—”

Obviously uninterested in his explanations, Nerita sent the fireball straight at his head. He deflected, fast, but not fast enough. The flames licked his sleeve and reached out to fan his face. The heat was incredible. Not just fire, but the white-blue core of the flame, like a welder’s torch.

Damn, what was it with him getting injured tonight?

From the second he’d laid eyes on Calliope Kane, he’d been in for nothing but trouble.