Dead Ice
Page 135

“You almost had a kingdom in your hands,” Micah said, “but without Narcissus the only thing you have in your hands is the hand you’re holding now. You have Kane, and that’s all.”
“That is a great deal,” Asher said, and kissed the man he loved to prove that point.
“If you’re talking love, then I’ll take your word for it that Kane is worth that to you, but if you’re talking power, then he is weak, Asher, you know that.”
“You know nothing, cat, nothing about me, or Kane, or Jean-Claude.”
“Why do you keep picking on Micah?” I asked.
“He doesn’t like Micah, because Micah doesn’t find him attractive, at all, and Asher can’t stand that,” Dev said. He was looking across the room at his lover, the only person he’d ever proposed marriage to, as if he’d never seen him before. People say liquor makes everyone pretty, but sobering up is a bitch—well, being in love makes people beautiful, and falling out of love makes you see the truth. It may set you free, but it’s going to fuck you up before it does.
“You are not a part of this, Dev,” Kane said.
Asher ignored Dev. “I do not like Micah because he keeps you at arm’s length, Jean-Claude. I know how it ate at me to see you closer to others, before you recommitted to me as your lover. I dislike Micah because he offers such pain to someone I love.”
“Micah is the only one who doesn’t want you, Asher, and that eats at you,” Dev said.
Nicky raised his hand. “I’m not attracted to Asher either, just saying.”
“Me, either,” Domino said.
“Asher doesn’t care about either of you, not seriously. He’d fuck you once if he thought he could seduce you. He has a real thing about being a straight guy’s first, or even only, male lover. That totally does it for him,” Dev said.
“So not happening,” Domino said.
“He wouldn’t be my first,” Nicky said.
That got everyone’s attention. “You told me you didn’t like guys,” Dev said.
“I don’t, but the bitch who raised me made me sort of anti-girls for a few years. If I were a little less of a raging heterosexual, and had a different therapist, I’d probably still be hooking up with guys.”
“I guess I’m just not pretty enough,” Dev said. “You shut me down in the shower with Anita pretty fast.”
“The only thing I looked for in a guy when I was a teenager was good hygiene, good at giving blow jobs, and a willingness to take anal sex.”
“Hey, I’m all of those things,” and Dev pretended to pout at him.
Nicky smiled, shook his head hard enough for the triangular fall of hair to swing, and said, “If I were still into guys, I’d totally do you.”
Dev grinned at him.
“Empty words, Rex, because you know you’ll never have to do it,” Kane said.
“You know that I don’t like you, right, Kane?” Nicky said.
“You don’t like Dev any more than you like me.”
“I like Dev a hell of a lot more than I like you.”
“But not enough to fuck him, even naked in the shower with him.”
“You and I were naked in the showers, and I didn’t want to fuck you,” I said.
“I don’t do girls.”
“And I don’t do stupid, so we’re both safe.”
Kane stood up. Asher tried to pull him back, but this time he stood his ground and kept his feet. I stood up. Richard didn’t try to hold me on the couch. I stood there facing Kane. He had his hands in fists. Mine were loose, cupped, and waiting for me to decide whether I was fighting.
“I already proved that I can beat you, Kane. Do you really want an audience for it this time?”
“You cheated in the locker room.”
“You’re almost a foot taller than me, with an arm and leg reach that’s almost twice mine, you’re a man, and you’re a werehyena; there is no such thing as a fair fight between us.”
“So you admit you cheated.”
“Talk like that is for amateurs, Kane.”
“I am not an amateur,” he said.
“Okay,” I said, and half-turned away from him, so that I could plant my foot, turn my shoulder, make a fist, cock my arm, and turn back around with everything I had, so that my whole body acted like a spring to power the punch into his solar plexus. He doubled over, unable to breathe for a second, and his face was low enough for me to put a knee into it, so I did. In rapid succession, holding the back of his head so I could drive my knee into his face with all the force I had, four times. I backed up from him, giving him room in case he recovered enough to try to grab me. I did not want those long arms and stronger body grappling with me.
If he’d been human the fight might have been over, but he wasn’t human. He came at me with a roaring growl that danced over my skin in goose bumps, but he gave me time to get set for a kick. I still had my hands up guarding my face, elbows tucked in over as much of my torso as I could cover, but I didn’t plan on him getting that close. He was so angry that he just forgot all his training and simply ran at me. I kicked him in the solar plexus, which stopped him. He fought not to double over as much and guarded his face better than last time, so I didn’t go for his head. I kicked him in the side of the knee, and he fell to the floor with a scream. He didn’t try to get up, just stayed on his hands and one knee, the other leg held out to the side the way a dog will when it’s hurt.
“You broke my leg.”
“It’s not broken. I didn’t even hear that meaty pop, so I didn’t even dislocate it. One shape-change and you’ll be good as new.”
“You bitch, you sucker-punched me, you cheated again.”
“And that’s why you’re an amateur,” I said.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Did you expect rules? A referee or a judge to step in and give a list of the do’s and don’ts for the fight?”
He just glared at me, and said, “Bitch.”
I smiled and said, “Pussy.”
Heat poured off him, and his brown eyes turned paler, golden brown—hyena brown. The Browning was just in my hand; muscle memory took over before I could even decide. I was already aiming at his head, right above his eyes. It was my best kill shot from the angle I had.
“Don’t shift, Kane, not here, not now,” I said; my voice was low and careful, because my finger was already on the trigger. No matter what gun you have, once your finger crosses that point, you treat all guns as if they have hair triggers, and be damned sure that if you pull, you want whatever you’re aiming at dead.
The heat spread through the room like someone had left the tap open on a really hot bath, and we were about to drown in it. “Silver bullets, Kane, you won’t heal a head shot.”
There was movement to my left. “No one move,” I said.
“Anita,” Asher said, “please,” and I felt him coming closer.
“Freeze where you are, Asher, or I swear to God I will shoot Kane and then turn on you.”
“Ma petite . . .”
“No, Jean-Claude, not this time. If Kane shifts I will shoot him. If Asher interferes, I will shoot him. That is the difference between amateurs and professionals. Amateurs whine about rules, fairness, and plead for mercy. Professionals know that there is only one rule—survival—violence is not fair, and there is no mercy.”