Page 21 of Wreaking Havoc
Kai
Kai sat in front of the small machine—the “laptop,” Sascha had told him—staring at the image on the background. There were green, rocky hills with sheep scattered all around. The land looked familiar: modern-day Ireland, or Scotland, possibly.
Had Sascha been there? Kai had been summoned in those parts, a time or two. Perhaps they’d walked over the same land, centuries apart from each other.
Kai smiled at the thought. He’d have to ask in the morning. Sascha had retreated into his room for the night, after setting up another bedroom for Kai and insisting haughtily that Kai was under no circumstances allowed to watch him sleep this time.
He was a strange creature, this Sascha. Fearful one moment, brave the next. Bold beyond reason, then unaccountably shy. Full of contradictions at every turn.
As when Kai had called out his attraction—Sascha had been red-faced and strangely flustered, even as he’d shamelessly insisted Kai was mistaken. That Kai was “not his type.”
A lie if Kai had ever heard one.
He saw the way the human couldn’t keep his eyes off him, sensed the simmering lust in his soul piece, smelled it on his person. So why the foolish denial? Was Sascha perhaps nervous their bodies wouldn’t fit?
They would fit. Kai would make sure of it.
Perhaps he needed to convince Sascha of that fact…
And perhaps Kai should have been alarmed with how quickly he was changing his own mind—telling himself one moment that he didn’t fuck his bargains, then spending the next considering how best to seduce sweet Sascha. But it was only natural, wasn’t it? Kai had been alone a very long time, and Sascha was so very…tempting.
Kai brought a hand to his chest, where Sascha’s soul was lodged. Was it perhaps the little soul piece’s fault? It had settled so well within him it was hard not to think how else they might merge.
Kai had heard rumors, of course. Of demons meeting a compatible human and choosing to stay in the realm, to bond with that human only. He’d figured the compatibility part had been an excuse—those demons had wanted to remain, and they’d found their way. All souls had always tasted the same to him.
But no longer. Sascha’s soul piece was like no other he had tasted: sweet and juicy, with little salty or bitter pockets hidden every which way.
Or maybe the problem was all the tempting thoughts Sascha had brought up with his talk of being pampered. His definition was so lacking it made Kai want to rectify the situation. Sascha thought money and a lack of responsibility made him so? What of being brought the freshest kills? Having his naked form draped in the brightest furs of the demon realm? Being bathed in warm rivers and massaged with fine oils?
Of course, that was mating behavior…
But Sascha had brought the subject up, whether he’d intended to or not. His talk ofniceness. Niceness was a human construct.Sweetnesswas what he really craved, to match the sweetness in his soul. And demons of Kai’s ilk were sweet only with their mates. Mostly because the females of his species were twice as large and three times as ferocious. If one didn’t want their head bitten off—quite literally—sweetness was the only option.
But Sascha? Kai wouldn’tneedto be sweet with him—Sascha could hardly lay a scratch on him, even if he wanted to—but there would be a certain…pleasure to it, wouldn’t there? Watching those pale cheeks redden in delight? Seeing if he lashed out in haughty embarrassment?
It would be delicious to try.
As delicious as the rage simmering alongside Sascha’s lust—rage that Sascha didn’t quite allow himself to feel but that bubbled up each time he spoke of his family. Rage as dark and tempting as the bitter brew he’d procured for Kai that morning.
Kai sighed, licking his lips. All in its time. For now, he needed to focus. They’d whiled the rest of the day away with Sascha educating Kai on the modern world, explaining how the various modern doodads worked, giving Kai the password to his laptop so he could “goggle” what else he might want to learn.
As to what Kaireallywanted to know—who was after Sascha and why—Sascha had been as unforthcoming as ever. He claimed he needed to consult his brother but made no attempt to do so. As if he feared involving him.
Which was odd in itself. If this Ivan was his kin, and they were in no contest for power (as Sascha insisted they were not), why wouldn’t he want to aid him? Maybe it had something to do with Sascha’s reaction that morning, when discussing how his family “spoiled” him.
Kai had seen it before, in those who had experienced battle too young. There were different words for it in different eras: battle-dazed, shell-shocked. He supposed now they would simply say the pup was traumatized.
And maybe Ivan had something to do with that.
Kai growled, turning his attention back to the laptop. He opened the browser, as Sascha had shown him, and typed in the name: Ivan Kozlov.
It was frustratingly slow work. Sascha had typed with both hands, but Kai’s fingers were too large for the little plastic button letters; he had to press only one at a time.
But when it was done…
There wasn’t much information, only a few businesses listed. Nothing about mobs or Mafias. But there was a photo. Kai clicked on it carefully, and it grew on the screen. He studied it.
Ivan looked remarkably similar to Sascha—the same pale-blond hair, the same blue eyes, the same pink lips and almost delicate features. There were signs of his older years—light markings of crow’s-feet around his eyes, a certain solidity to his form. He was taller as well, from what Kai could see. And meaner.
