Pure Blood_ A Nocturne City Novel - Caitlin Kittredge [109]
There’s a time for sugar, for honeyed words even when you just want to smash something. And then there’s Joshua.
“Tempting as that is,” I told him, “I’d rather do this.” I slammed a left cross into Joshua’s face with every ounce of were strength in me, aiming to drive teeth into his brain. He dropped like a sack of rotten vegetables, skull hitting the pavement with an audible impact.
I kicked him once with the toe of my shoe. “Hope a dog pisses on you.”
Dmitri wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed my cheek. “Nice shot, babe.”
“Whoa, whoa,” I said, pushing him away. “What’s this ‘babe’ crap? The last time we talked you hated me.”
“Forget that,” Dmitri said, trying to embrace me again. I shoved harder this time and he went back a step.
“What are you smoking, dude? You don’t get to touch the goods after the scene we played.”
Dmitri shrugged, looking adorably sheepish. Hex him. “I made a mistake, Luna. Aren’t I allowed to make mistakes?”
“And you expect me to just forget everything else because of that,” I said. Dmitri thought for a minute.
“Well… yeah.”
Were men. Un-freaking-believable.
“Fine,” I said, because I really didn’t have twenty bucks to spend on cab fare. “You can give me a ride home. But no touching.”
“How about after that?” Dmitri’s eyes darkened around the edges, a little black slipping in there among the facets of green, like an oil spill, or a slowly bleeding cut.
“After that…” I swung my leg over the passenger seat of the bike and decided to be honest. “After that, Dmitri, I have no idea.”
Sunny was at my cottage when Dmitri drove me up on his bike, and she threw her arms around me, jostling my cast. “Ow,” I said, and hugged her back hard with my good arm.
“Have you seen the paper?” she demanded, thrusting it at me. The lead story on page one of the Nocturne City Post-Herald was the shooting death of Seamus O’Halloran by Lieutenant Troy McAllister after a “vicious and unprovoked attack on city personnel.”
“Bet your ass,” I muttered. Below the fold on the first page was a story about a massive IRS audit of the O’Halloran Group’s holdings. Assets had been frozen. Executives had fled the country. Business as usual for the most powerful caster witches in Nocturne City.
“The Inquirer is even worse,” said Sunny. “They got a photo from the scene, Seamus lying there on the dock all cold and dead…”
“Mmm,” I muttered, scanning the print page to see if my name showed up anywhere. Maybe I could scrape together enough savings for a new identity and radical plastic surgery…
Fortunately, the most unusual thing about the story was that the reporter gave total credence to the witch rumors, stating that Seamus O’Halloran’s death had been brought about by an unspecified “malignant force.” I was just glad my picture wasn’t splashed next to Seamus’s. But it would come. No one could deny that weres and witches and Hex-knew-what walked right alongside the plain humans every day, and their brand of chaos was becoming more and more prevalent.
I wondered how long it would be until another disaster like the Hex Riots broke out.
Dmitri took the paper out of my hands and guided me to the sofa, putting my feet up and brushing stray hair out of my eyes. “What did I say about the touching?”
He sat next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. “You honestly telling me you’re not enjoying this, at least a little bit? We’ve got a downright cozy and domestic scene here.”
“You keep this up and I’m going to get used to it,” I warned.
“Maybe that’s not so bad,” said Dmitri. I stared at him.
“Don’t tell me the black knight has finally decided to pick a castle.”
“Maybe,” he said again, giving me an utterly cryptic smile.
“Well, all right then,” Sunny announced loudly as Dmitri went in for a kiss. I moved my head and waved goodbye as she gathered up her purse.
“We’ll