Naughty Karma

Chapter Twenty Fastballs, Physics and Other Genetic Gifts

Part of the Karmic family. Prometheus ground his molars as he shoved open the door to Karmic Consultants on Sunday morning. It was brutally early, but he hadn’t been able to sleep and figured he might as well wake Karma—not that she was likely to be asleep, though he almost wished she was just so he could get her up. His entire night had been spent making love charms to replenish his stock—half of which he’d had to throw out when he realized his pissy mood was corrupting the magic.

He needed to get his head back in the fucking game and lose the moony-eyed shit. This was life or death. His death. And it was about time he remembered that. No more sleepovers. No more intimate little share-our-deepest-darkest-secrets sessions. Just a straight line between him and his fortieth birthday. No matter who he had to pave over to get there.

Family fucked you over and abandoned you. Prometheus didn’t need or want to be part of Karma’s. All he needed was her assistance. Eye on the prize.

He shoved open the door to Karma’s office, his ornery side hoping to find it empty so he could rattle her out of her Bat Cave, but there she was, sitting behind that big ass I’m-the-boss-here desk of hers. And smiling at him.

“Good morning, Prometheus. I had a feeling you might be in early.”

Of course she did. No surprising psychics. He should have negotiated for precognition when he bartered for his powers.

She rose and rounded her desk toward him, still smiling. Damn if she didn’t look happy to see him.

“I figured we should get an early start. I only have so many days left to live. No time to waste.”

Her smile faded at his brusque tone. “No, I suppose there isn’t.”

She wandered over to the couch—the one where she’d mounted him on Friday night—and sank down onto the edge of it. He prowled over to throw himself into a nearby chair.

“You needn’t worry I’ll be wasting time on another date with that guy,” she said dryly. “Even if you hadn’t given me something to think about, the date still would have been a bust.”

She thought he was jealous, that that was why he wasn’t picking up right where they’d left off. Prometheus ignored the comment she likely thought of as an olive branch. “Shall we get started?”

She folded her hands neatly in her lap, her posture shifting slightly, back straight, ankles crossed, the picture of the perfect lady—Karma’s armor falling into place. “Of course. I have the leftover vodka if—”

“No vodka. Now that you’ve done it once, let’s see if you can do it on your own.”

She nodded and matched his all business tone. “Certainly.”

She closed her eyes, pulled the charm he’d given her out from beneath her shirt and tried—he had to admit she really did try. Without being in physical contact with her, he couldn’t guide her, so she was on her own and without the vodka to relax her she was so tense she was immediately rolled under by her power.

Prometheus cursed and came out of his chair. He crossed to the couch in one, long stride and wrapped his hand over hers on the charm, dragging her back to her center and pulling her out of the vision, catching only echoes of an explosion himself before her connection to it cut. Karma shuddered and he felt the idiotic impulse to pull her into his arms and comfort her. Instead, he dropped her hand as if she’d burned him and backed away.

So much for sober.

“I’ll get the vodka.”

“Good. You’re getting it. That time was much better.”

Karma felt no sense of satisfaction at the praise. She was too exhausted to be victorious. She slumped down on the couch and squinted blearily at the clock. The effects of the single glass of vodka they’d used to get her to relax enough for the first successful attempt had long since worn off. No more pleasant buzz, just bone deep weariness making her eyesight blur.

Eight p.m. An entire day of slamming herself into the visions on purpose, so she could learn how to control abilities that all the books she’d read on the subject seemed to think should be intuitive. Intuitive, my ass.

Prometheus thought she was doing better, but Karma was too tired to care. She wanted to curl into the fetal position and sleep for three years.

“Can we be done now?”

Prometheus looked at her, as if assessing whether he could push her through one more round before she had a nervous breakdown. They were stretched out on opposite corners of her bed—having moved down here around two o’clock, when Prometheus insisted that she needed more comfortable surroundings and then bullied her into changing into yoga clothes because no one can relax in a suit.

In spite of her intentions to take him up on his casual sex offer, their hours on the bed had been strictly platonic. He’d been running hot and cold ever since he arrived this morning—hot eyes tracking her every move while a cold demeanor shoved her back whenever she got too close. Whatever new form of manipulation this was, she didn’t like it.

“One more time. Then we’ll call it a night.”

She closed her eyes, looking inside herself to see if she had one more in her. “Nope.” She draped her arms over her face, blocking out the bully. “I’m done. Sorry. Tapped out.”

“Rest for a few minutes, then we’ll give it one last go.”

“There will be no one last go.” She let her arms fall away from her face, spread-eagle on the bed. “I’ve hit my limit.”

“I wasn’t aware the great Karma Cox had limits.”

She snorted. There were days she felt like all she had were limits. The great Karma Cox indeed. “Do you ever wonder why? Why some people—like my brother—are totally normal and then there are people like us.” She rubbed at a pinched nerve in her neck.

“Why can some people throw a fastball a hundred miles an hour or understand particle physics? Random genetic anomalies.” Prometheus climbed up to the head of the bed next to her, stacking up the pillows. “Come here.”

“Random is a shitty reason.” She let him tug her in front of him, his hands going to work on the ache in her neck.

“Maybe the universe knew you were going to be a goodie-goodie who rode to the rescue like Wonder Woman every time there was a wrong that needed righting.”

“I hate having all that knowledge and only having the power to do anything about it ten percent of the time. If I’m such a good person, why torture me like that?”

“Maybe seeing all the wrong you couldn’t fix is what made you a good person, made you the kind of person who wanted to fix what you could.”

“Like a chicken-egg thing? I don’t see your power turning you into a good person.”

“Well, I’m me. The raw materials didn’t give much room to maneuver.”

Her lips curved into a smile. She kind of liked his raw materials. She leaned into his hands. God, the man was magic. Hell, for all she knew he was soothing her aches with actual magic, but that was fine by her as a delicious ease seeped into her muscles. “I want to know why our abilities manifest the way they do. Why is sweet, innocent Lucy a magnet for sex-starved ghosts? Ciara was adopted; does that have something to do with why her abilities are about finding things that were lost? Chase can only find the thing you want the most, but he never let himself want anything until Mia. Why does it happen the way it does? And why do I have this massive burden of knowing every crappy thing that might be going to happen?”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes, letting her head fall forward as he found a spot at the base of her neck. “Haven’t you?”

“Nope. I always knew why I had my powers—because I wanted them more than anyone else and was ruthless enough to do whatever was necessary to get them.”

“You always get what you want, don’t you, Prometheus? You batter away at the universe until it bends to suit your whim.”

“Pretty much.”

“No playing by the rules. Take what you need.” If Karma was honest, she didn’t always play by the rules either, but she’d figured that was moral as long as she was doing it for the greater good, for her people, as long as it wasn’t selfish. But maybe there was a certain virtue, or at least purity, in claiming something for yourself.

Maybe it was time Karma Cox learned how to take what she wanted. And right now, what she wanted was running a finger down the nape of her neck. That spot. That spot that was his now. He owned her with it. Maybe it was time she owned him too.

She twisted so she could face him. His hands fell away, but they were still all but draped over one another in her bed. It would be an easy slide into intimacy from here. The black T-shirt stretched across the lean lines of his torso and she ached to strip it off.

She smiled, putting every ounce of invitation she could muster into her eyes. “What exactly is it you want, Prometheus?”

You always get what you want, don’t you, Prometheus?

He did. That was his policy. Do what it takes, get what you want. But if he always got what he wanted, his life should be perfect, shouldn’t it? For years he’d had the shop, power and independence—and he’d been bored. Not on a grand scale like some pampered rich girl wallowing in boredom, but as a sort of low-level mechanical hum that had become the background noise of his life, slowly droning him to sleep. The need to get his heart back had woken him up, but it wasn’t until he was pitting himself against Karma that he’d started to really feel alive.

He got what he wanted. But had he been wanting the wrong things? Independence was strength and vulnerability the last thing he wanted, so he never let anyone in. He didn’t have family or friends to speak of. Women were easy to come by, but they always stayed casual. They never knew him.

And they never looked at him the way Karma was looking at him now. It was always I-need-a-man-and-you’ve-made-me-feel-good. Never I need you. He could be the good guy or the bad guy or whatever guy they needed for a night, but they never knew what they were really getting into bed with. Not like Karma. She knew exactly what she was getting into with him. And she still wanted him.

What should a man want? Security? Love?

Fuck it. Who the hell cared? He just wanted her.

“What do you think I want?” he growled and yanked her into his arms. She landed against him, lips open and eager and he wasted no time covering them with his. Her hands plunged into his hair, gripping the thick strands as he made quick work of unraveling her bun and wrapping the length of her hair around his fist. She straddled him, rubbing close, but he needed her closer. He grabbed her ass, angling her in for a tighter fit, thrusting his tongue into her mouth in rhythm with the grinding of her hips. Jesus, she was electric. Insatiable. The hungry little noises she made in the back of her throat as she sucked his tongue out of his head made all the blood rush down to his cock in eager sympathy. He wanted to flip her, strip her and pound into her until they were both sweaty and screaming. The urge to do just that pressed against the back of his mind—animalistic and so damn right.

Do it. Take her. You know you want to.

Prometheus jerked and his ward tattoo burned. The voice was feminine. Light and sweet. Fuck. That wasn’t him. The fucking sex demon was screwing with him.

He broke the kiss, shoving Karma away from him. She released a startled gasp, sliding across the slick sheets until the bed once again separated them. “What is it?” Her already raspy voice was even more sex-charged than usual, the sound of it going straight to his cock. The hair he’d pulled loose tumbled around her shoulders and the gorgeous arch of her dark brown eyes was accentuated by the heavy-lidded look she shot him.

He wanted nothing more than to drag her back into his arms and pick up right where they left off, but he hadn’t imagined that push. Deuma was paying attention to him now and the idea of her watching him with Karma made his stomach churn. Though she couldn’t actually watch. That he knew of.

Distance. He needed some distance. And focus. Eye on the prize, Prometheus.

“Are you ready to try again?”

“What?” The rosy flush drained from her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes dying.

“I need you in top shape if I’ve got a shot in hell of living through this. You know me. Pure self interest.”

Her look was probing—and he had a feeling he wasn’t fooling anyone. “I do know you,” she said, each word dragging out slowly.

“So one more go?”

“Sure.” She raked her hair back into a new knot, sitting up straighter. “Then you should leave. Big day tomorrow. Chase and Mia are back.”

The area where his heart should be constricted and his palms began to sweat.

Karma smiled, coolly professional again. “Tomorrow we find that box.”