Naughty Karma

Chapter Twenty-Six Survival of the Most Ruthless

Prometheus wasn’t accustomed to anxiety. He’d trained himself not to give a shit about the things he couldn’t change, which had led to a remarkably worry-free existence. But tonight, only a matter of hours before the ritual that would either grant him near-immortality or kill him outright, he was finding it impossible not to care.

He arrived at Karmic Consultants, drawn there as he always seemed to be, after the building had gone dark. She was in there. He could feel her. Who knew how long that would last? If he survived the double-cross, but ended up without his power—he shook away the thought as he closed the front door behind him, flicking the lock closed. It would be a kind of death, losing his power. He didn’t know who he would be. His entire life was built around the power he had bartered for himself. Would he be able to keep the shop if he couldn’t create the charms and potions himself? Would he feel that same inviolate sense of strength and confidence without his power to back it up? Would Karma want him if he wasn’t a walking demigod like her?

No. His life would go up in smoke, just when it was starting to get really interesting. Part of him resolved to take death if it was a choice between powerlessness and that, but a deeper, truer part screamed for survival. You didn’t grow up the way he had without an angry need to keep living just to give the world who tried to destroy you a big fuck you. So the decision was simple: survival first, power by any means necessary.

And she was the means. He had to make sure she reversed the power flow and diverted Deuma’s power into him.

Karma wasn’t in her office. He followed the trail of her energy down, hacking into elevator’s security system with a pulse of magic. The elevator doors opened and he found her sitting in her living room, staring at the crate that held his heart, a glass of wine in one hand, a second on the end table beside the opposite end of the couch.

Prometheus took the empty space and the waiting glass, settling beside her without touching or speaking. The red tasted expensive, layers of flavors rolling smoothly over his taste buds as he sipped.

“Nice wine,” he commented.

“I’ve been saving it. Wyatt gave it to me.”

Wyatt Haines, the bajillionaire. No wonder it tasted like money. “Shouldn’t we save the celebrating for tomorrow?”

She didn’t reply, but then she didn’t need to. They both knew this wasn’t a celebration. It was a last supper.

At least her morose mood matched his own. He didn’t think he could have borne it if she was cheerful and excited about the dawn.

Rodriguez would arrive at four to begin prepping the summoning. Prometheus would carry the heart crate upstairs and they would begin at dawn. Summon Deuma. Negotiate with her for a new deal—Karma had done her research and paid the witches to track down an artifact she was confident Deuma would sell her soul for. Or better yet, trade Prometheus’s heart for.

But that was where things got tricky. Karma thought they were only bartering for his life. He wanted his power too. Which meant Karma had to go head to head for him with a maenad who was on her way to goddess status. Did she care for him enough to do that? Plan A didn’t look too secure.

If that didn’t work he had a few bargaining chips of his own. Relics he’d tracked down over the years that could vastly increase Deuma’s powers—provided she let him keep his own. It would make the devil a thousand times more dangerous, but that wasn’t his problem. His problem was survival.

Karma would be angry, that much he was sure of. She might never forgive him for keeping that part of his plan from her. This could break their relationship—such as it was—but the end had always been inevitable between them anyway. He wasn’t the guy you took home to meet the parents. He didn’t do love and romance. What they had now was all he was capable of giving her and she deserved better than that.

They’d never really had a shot at a future. So why did the thought of her walking out of his life make the hollow cavern of his chest ache? Men like him didn’t get happy endings, because men like him were the ruthless bastards who made sure the game never ended. When had that started feeling like a punishment rather than a reward?

“How are you doing?”

He looked over at the object of his obsession, sipping her wine, listening to the rhythm of his heart. She was dressed for yoga and he knew from experience how easily those stretchy fabrics peeled away from her skin. “I’m good.” He stretched his arm along the back of the couch and brushed a fingertip down her nape, just to touch her.

She trembled and took another slow, deliberate sip of the rich red. “Liar,” she murmured.

He smiled. “Always.”

For long minutes they simply drank the wine and sat, his finger stroking her neck the only communication between them. Then Karma lurched forward and set her wine glass on top of the crate, turning to face him. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”

His ribcage contracted hard around the empty space where his heart should be. That was about as close to a declaration as either one of them were likely to get. “None of your people will be hurt either,” he answered.

“I know.”

He heard I trust you lurking beneath the words and wanted to tell her not to, wanted to warn her off, but she was crawling toward him, throwing a leg over his to straddle his lap, and he forgot why it even mattered as Karma sucked his lower lip into her mouth. She rocked forward until her pelvis connected with the swelling length of his cock. He bracketed her hips, taking control of the rhythm there, even as he let her lead in the kiss. Her taste was potent with urgency and the lingering flavors of the red. He heard his heart thudding faster, louder. The wrongness of it—outside his body as magic pushed the blood in a steady flow through his veins—made him stand abruptly, lifting Karma with him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, breaking the kiss to lean back to meet his eyes.

Damn he was going to miss that look. The slumberous decadence. Dazed and heated. Knowing that it was only for him. He carried her through to the bedroom, away from the telltale heart. He laid her on the bed, quickly divesting her of her clothes and shedding his own, until they were both naked save the charm between her breasts. His charm. Then he lowered himself over her and there was nothing but skin and heat between them. He called up the magic that was so much a part of him and lay it over both of them like a blanket.

Karma hissed out a ragged breath and he moved to catch the sound in his mouth, feeding on every gasp and moan. He slipped his fingers between their bodies, finding her slick and hot and ready for him. Her warm hands were there, guiding his cock to her entrance, and then he was thrusting into a tight fist of heat, his entire being focused on the clasp of her body. He feathered his magic over her skin, pulsed his power into her body, watching her aura for the erratic flickers when he hit a sweet spot then bending his will to hitting it again and again until she was teetering on the edge of orgasm. He laced their fingers together, pinning her hands on either side of her head, and drove up high into her, flooding her with his power. She screamed her pleasure, arching beneath him, and something unlocked. Suddenly her power was there, meeting his, jetting through him in a blinding blast. He roared, pounding into her as he came, her essence surrounding him, consuming him, saturating every cell with a thousand tiny starbursts. Then the second wave hit and he was coming again, blind to everything but the supernova of her.

He collapsed on top of her, wrung out, and listened to the rapid, uneven rhythm of her breath.

“Prometheus,” she whispered. “I—”

He didn’t want to hear what she was going to say next. He couldn’t. He cut her off with a kiss, quick and light, then murmured, “Shh. Get some sleep.”

She was exhausted. It was a small thing to smooth the edges of her energy until she fell into a dream.

He hoped it was a good one. A future where everything was bright and shiny and worked out perfectly. A future he didn’t have much hope of seeing.