See how well they worked together?
One arm held her close around her shoulders, the other reached around her body so that his free hand held a soft cheek, which he lightly squeezed.
“Cari?” One of the sister’s voices. He couldn’t tell them apart yet.
Mason growled and held Cari tighter. He loved the taste of her skin. Just now she was slightly salty.
“She’s not going to go away,” Cari said.
“Eventually she’ll have to.”
“You don’t know my sister.” Cari’s fingers feathered through his hair.
“She doesn’t know me.” Now was a good time to start.
“She has a house full of reinforcements. Zel, and my stepmother, and . . .”
The stepmother. Mason lifted his head. His mood would be shot, except for the fact that he held a naked Cari Dolan in his arms. And he was naked, too. “I was about to plunder you.”
Which made Cari laugh out loud. “Are you a pirate? Plunder?”
“Definitely. Plunder.” Somehow he’d captured her. How about that.
She leaned toward the door. “Go away!” She sounded happy. Made him even more so.
Silence from the hall outside. He narrowed his eyes at Cari in victory, then bent his head again. He was nowhere near ready to give her up.
“But Zel’s upset and crying,” came the voice at the door.
Pitch. Tears.
“Stacia’s not leaving without me,” Cari repeated. “Let me work out whatever drama is going on, and then you can plunder me.”
Cari was missing the point. “You don’t give permission to plunder.” But he let her sit up and discovered a new angle from which to admire her lovely body.
She kissed him—a hearty smack on the mouth. “I’ll be quick.”
He sighed, resigned. He had to make some calls anyway. See if he could do the impossible and catch Khan on the phone. But he wouldn’t have minded delaying reality a little longer. Watching Cari dress just made him hard all over again. He dressed, too, but he wasn’t happy about it.
“How do I look?” She was tucking in her blouse, smoothing her hair.
The truth? “Satisfied.”
She blushed, eyes wide. Then turned and made for the door, muttering, “I’m never going to get used to this.”
“Good.” He didn’t want to get used to this either. Every moment got better than the last. He just needed Fletcher raising hell somewhere here in the house with them, and everything would be perfect.
He had his phone to his ear, was leaving a message at Segue, and patting the crumpled pile of Cari’s papers he’d rescued from the floor. Organization was not one of his strengths. The broken glass on the other side of the desk had to be cleaned up soon. Aside from the immediate family, most of the Dolan people were moving back to their own homes now that the plague threat was gone. But just in case any of the kids were still around, he hunted for a spare piece of paper to scoop up the worst of the shards.
Someone cleared their voice, and he brought his attention up.
Scarlet. Just great.
She was a silver and black dart of a woman. He wondered if her sharp cheekbones hurt her face, or if her expression was always pained. Her hands were folded in front of her at her slim waist, the picture of composure, but recriminations jabbed from her gaze.
“There was some emergency with one of the sisters,” Mason said, hoping to point her interest elsewhere. “Zella is crying.”
Scarlet didn’t go for it. “Why are you here? What do you want?”
Took all of one second for Mason to figure out what was going on.
Survival taught a stray to know when he’d been set up. Divide and conquer, Cari upstairs, him with Scarlet. He didn’t blame them for trying to intervene, and this was probably just the beginning of their anti-Mason fight. He didn’t deserve Cari, wasn’t remotely born to her circle, had lived in dirt and blood most of his life—felt it on him now with Scarlet looking at him like that—but he still wasn’t giving Cari up.
“I’m here for Cari,” he said. “Whatever she needs.” A vague enough answer to cover everything.
Scarlet’s gaze rested coldly on the desk. His tidying effort was clearly beneath her expectations. Or maybe she thought the activity that messed it was crass—though she’d had two daughters, so had to have indulged in the same at some point. Or maybe she just didn’t want him to get Cari dirty. Point of fact, they both could probably use a shower.
“Cari requires a mage of rank beside her,” she said, approaching him. “It’s what her father would’ve wanted.”
“Well, she chose me.” No disrespect.
“You’re taking advantage of her grief. The plague. Of the stress of her transition to power.”
“Maybe I am.” He was sure Cari could deal with all that shit on her own. But the point was, she didn’t have to.
“You admit it?”
“Yeah.” Of course. “I would use any and every means to stay close to Cari. I want to make her work, her troubles, easier on her. I want to make her happy.”
“By shaming her?”
That burned. But better Scarlet work out her prejudice on him before Fletcher got here and had to endure her small mind. Just thinking of Fletcher on the receiving end of this crap made Mason’s mood narrow to a knife’s edge. “Shame?” Screw that.
He managed a lazy grin to cut her back. “The most Cari’s ever done is blush, and it looks good on her.”
Scarlet’s lips pulled back as she took the bait. She stepped up close, her face in his, for round two. “I love that girl. I’ve kept her in my heart with my own daughters. I swore to her father that I would protect her with my life. And that is exactly what I am doing.”
For a second, Mason was going to observe aloud that all of Scarlet’s points were his own, too. That they had Cari’s best interests in common. But a searing punch at his gut told him that Scarlet was a woman of action.
She’d just stabbed him.
Cari stepped into the office and was immediately confused. Scarlet was close enough to kiss Mason, but Cari was pretty certain that the two weren’t on the best of terms. Especially because her sisters had lied to get her out of the room so that Scarlet could say her piece to the stray. Or rather, against him.
Scarlet leaned her weight slightly further in, which was weird, and used Mason’s belly to push her weight back. She took two steps away, her right hand shiny with red.
A hilt protruded from Mason’s stomach. He wavered on his feet, then collapsed into the desk chair, a scowl struck across his graying face.
Shock made Cari go cold, a scream rising in her throat. But she’d seen him knife-wounded before, so she kept terror at bay. “Are you going to die?”
Mason brought his gaze over. “Nah.” But he didn’t look too happy about living either. His hands were on his stomach, and with a violent shiver, he pulled the blade from his abdomen and dropped it on the floor.
His shiver made her hands shake, but she took him at his word and approached her stepmother.
“It had to be done,” Scarlet said tightly. “I’m not sorry. I promised your father.”
Cari slapped her across her face. “My father is dead. I am the Dolan now.”
Her palm burned as she turned to kneel and assess the damage herself. The wound was a wreck of blood, but it didn’t seem to be actively bleeding. Her hands fluttered in the air above. She didn’t want to hurt him. “What can I do?” Besides panic and summon Maeve to break her stepmother’s neck, just like Liv’s.
“I had to free you,” Scarlet said in a strangle behind her.
“Really not necessary,” Cari answered.
Though Mason’s breathing was labored, fine jagged lines of Shadow crept over his skin like capillaries of magic. Good sign. She needed him in one piece. She couldn’t afford for him to be wounded right now. Magekind couldn’t afford for him to be wounded, not with Maeve loose, doing who knew what.