Tempered Steel

“Damn right,” Iann exhorted, albeit calmly.  He idly licked at his incisors, recalling a moment when he’d almost managed to sink his teeth into her neck, drain her blood.  But she’s stopped him then. She didn’t stop him now, and he couldn’t help smiling at the thought.  A strange thing to be delighted over but then they were also on the topic of being freaks.  She was as much of a freak as he was, in a completely different way.  And yet, somehow, they worked.

He kissed her back, then kissed Ciara again.  “How many times have you died?” he asked, a pleasant conversational topic.

The look Iann gave her when she suggested the cloud was predictably skeptical.  Pixi had tried to impress the usefulness of this cloud as well, but Iann was far too suspicious to even try to understand.  “Sure sure.  So Bill Gates can steal my information whenever he wants?  I think not,” Iann said, thinking Bill Gates jokes were still de rigueur.   

Now that he started, he couldn’t stop kissing Ciara about her soft rounded face.  Still idle and comfortable, no increase in intensity.  But he did groan when he recalled that this couldn’t last forever, and he asked,  “So when do you leave?”

“I have died zero times, whereas you, hombre, have needed resuscitating on at least one occasion that I know of. My foolish, brave human,” She grinned, turning them so that he was pinned between her and the counter as she pressed her lips to his throat. 

“Why would Bill gates ever be interested in you?” she asked teasingly, sliding her hands down to his hips, over his ass, as he dotted her face with kisses like freckles. “A couple days, half a week at most? I’ll find out tomorrow when I need to leave. So at least, you have me tonight. As much as you want. Let me take care of you.” And him of her. That was them. Always pulling and pushing. It didn’t have to be sex, it didn’t have to be anything other than the two of them staring into each other’s eyes until one of them drifted into sleep. The tide of his heartbeat would pull her along. 

“That’s entirely possible. Most of the married women I know who’re interested in this sort of thing don’t want to be kissed at all.” Ephram waited for Ciara to unzip and loosen her skirt before he was in motion again, fingers sliding below her tight garter suspenders to feel the erotic divots they’d left in her flesh, his thumb adding its own impassioned indentation along the softer silk of her inner thigh. “With me they don’t tend to be looking for romance.”

And despite this touch of cynicism, Ephram kissed back with just as much heat when Ciara pressed her mouth to his, thin fingers working at his shirt buttons and almost tearing the starched collar he wore as a sign of his status, his wealth, his place among the moneyed and important. Ephram angled his hips to meet hers, the force of connection making them both catch their breath, and that was all it took for his fingers to tear through that gossamer of her stockings with a laddering sound that echoed through even the cluttered parlour.

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“Yeah,” Ephram said, his voice roughened with lust as he hoisted Ciara up higher, closer, tighter, letting her take care of his trousers as he twisted her panties to the side and slicked his fingers through the folds of her, curling a knuckle against her clit for a few deft strokes before pressing his fingertips against, into, the wetness of her cunt. “Yeah, Ciara, I think we can put this on the books. Now–”

Ephram settled his back and shoulders more firmly against the mantlepiece, feet braced far enough apart to support Ciara’s weight against him, and gave the board against his back a pointed look, to either side of himself. “–maybe you should hold on, Detective, hold on fast. If you’re curious to know what it is I want, ay?” His cock, thick and strong, pressed through the folds of fabric between them (her skirt was utterly ruined, he could feel it in the spots of dampness) and Ephram pulled Ciara down against him, rutting against her with a growl of promise.

Ephram blinked at Ciara’s moniker for him where it came to the demon, turning it over in his mind a few times. “Well, I’ll be honest,” he said quietly, “that there’s a distinction I’m more’n happy to give up.” Twenty-four years of living with Anaxis inside him, clawing and roaring and grabbing on to any way it could break Ephram down and try to gain ascendency – that was nothing Ephram wanted to cling to. The Cinquefoil gave a shimmery pulse where it was embedded under his skin and Ephram shivered along with it, thankfully.

“Asker used to help me hunt back home in Apple Fall,” Ephram said, letting the gitturn run up his arm and across the span of his shoulders before backtracking to his hands. “And she was a guard dog. Still a necessary sort of thing, where I come from.” He snickered at Ciara’s assertion that just because Ephram had a dog, it followed that Freddie would spoil the creature, saying, “–oh I dunno bout that. Freddie’s not been fond of actual people friends who I had, so I’m sure if he didn’t care for Asker, he wouldn’t spoil ‘er just on my account. My Freddie’s not so great at pretending he likes folks or critters when it ain’t true.”

Ephram popped Eva on the dash when Ciara parked the car so that he could unbuckle himself, saying, “Bluelight, definitely Bluelight. I burned out on the Horned God a while back when I used to go there with a friend of mine – the one Freddie didn’t like, in fact.” Ephram hopped out and came around the car to open Ciara’s door (an unneeded gesture, but he was already out and moving), saying, “Reckon I needed the right position of authority at the right time.” Ciara’s statement that it suited him sank down into Ephram’s bones, an approval and validation that he was gratified to get, but he didn’t pursue the topic any further than that.

“How bout you, Ciara?” he asked instead as they headed across the lot to the Bluelight. “You seem like you’re more the lone wolf type, to me. Not too keen on nobody’s authority excepting your own.”

“I don’t blame you for that, not for one second,” Ciara replied. She remembered what the cinquefoil had done for him in those first few weeks, how much it had changed him and how is magic felt now invigorated. Ciara didn’t fully trust it, it wasn’t in her nature to be able to, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t celebrate its success. 

“Whereas there isn’t so much to guard against now, nor to hunt. At most she rounds up all your birds for you,” Ciara laughed, pulling her gitturn pouch off the back seat so that Eva and Yarrow could travel with her, in a little isolated cucoon so that the bar was no overwhelming

“Got that. The place is fun, but it’s a lot.” Also, in hindsight, it was where Ciara had slept with his sister. Maybe it was a good place to avoid. Bluelight had a sweet, fun vibe where music melted right into your bones. Better for talking, too. Ciara smiled at Ephram as he opened the door for her, stepping out into the chilly night air. “Ever the gentleman.”

“I follow the higher authority of the coven,” Ciara replied dutifully, before smiling wrily. “I’ve had bosses before, I can work under other people’s authority. But no, not exactly keen on it. Not had much experience with people wielding it well. But I always wanted to be back in a coven. I don’t like being alone, it’s just easier, usually.” That list was too long to even consider now. As they stepped inside the bar, Ciara pointed Ephram to quiet booth before going to buy them both beers. “Next round’s on you,” she said when she returned, sliding the beer over with practiced grace. 

“Well, needs must, honey. And all that jazz,” Iann said with some amount of honest cheer.  For a moment he felt ridiculous and weak, how much it comforted him to hear her say that.  Her hopeless, broken, tired voice kept echoing in the back of his mind: haven’t I shown you enough?   Iann tried to remind himself that communication was a two-way street, not something he alone needed to master in every way, for better or worse.

And Ciara, she took to that two-way street now like she owned it.  It thrilled him.

“I love that you’re so hard to kill.  I don’t know if it’s cleverness or tenacity or both, ” he teased Ciara.  “This is very morbid humour, by the way. But then, we’re freaks.”  He turned to wrap his own arms around her, and gave her a prefunctory kiss.  “And if you need my help, you can call me too,” he said with a laugh, because they both knew that was a joke.

Ciara brought up a good point.  Iann rubbed her back slowly as if it helped jog his memory.  “Generic names, from what I remember.  Alice Chen in New Orleans.  Carmen Li in Virginia.  That sort of thing…man I wish my stuff didn’t keep getting destroyed all the time.  And yet I just keep writing things down anyway, as if this time I’ll be able to retain it.”

“No one can touch me unless I let them,” Ciara replied, a call back to when they’d first met, but her words had softened from the fear and agression of that time back then, “I think we can add a pint of luck somewhere in there too.” She laughed at his observation, humming in hungry approval as he turned in her arms and held her too. “Morbid humour is extremely fitting, considering how many times one of us has almost died.” She chased his lips and his perfunctory kiss with one that packed as much heat as her meal had. “You know I will,” she replied, because Iann knew things she did not, like how to soothe her heart in a storm.

“I do know,” Iann murmured, giving Ciara an extra squeeze like he couldn’t help himself. When she would just come out and spontaneously throw out her love for him like that, he really couldn’t help the surge of…relief he felt hearing it.  Maybe one day it would melt from relief to something else, but he did like the thrill of a reminder.  Maybe Ciara knew that too.  

“Mm.  Threatening presence,” Iann repeated, smirking slowly at the thought. He knew it probably was hardly funny.  The Desert Leaves, from what Iann had met so far, didn’t exactly seem a jolly lot.  Their coven was intense, sometimes nervous, always dangerous.  But Ciara already knew all that - embraced it in fact.  It was ironic how much she seemed she would fit in, but yet was forced to stand alone with that tattoo on her arm.  “That sounds exciting.  Don’t you die on me, okay?  That’s all I ask.”

His appetite regained when Ciara came around to wrap around him from behind, but he wasn’t hungry for food.  Putting the dish in the rack, he dried his hands and took Ciara’s hands, kissing her knuckles. “I…I’m not sure yet, but.  I’ll think of someone.  Maybe, ah.  Maybe if I can find another witch who knew Aunt Lily, hm?”

   “I’ll tell you again, just in case,” Ciara promised, looking him over intently. “Iann Cardero, I love you. I’m here for you. Mi alma.” She liked the way it felt when he relaxed into her arms, like her words blanketed. “I don’t like that I’m leaving so soon after you’ve gotten here.”

“I won’t. If I do, I promise I’ll come haunt you so you’re stuck with me either way. It should just be a conversation, though.” Ciara chuckled. “I’m pretty fucking hard to kill at the best of times, anyhow.” She squeezed him a little tighter just to drive her point home. They’d said it before. He was hers, she was his. She wasn’t going to die without him. 

Iann watched Ciara stroking along his hand, becoming complacent as her fingers traced the blueish veins that popped up from under his skin.  He focused on the stew then, quickly spooning bites of it to eat.  It was soft and warm, easy to eat.  Which was a good thing because Iann needed to eat; but he could do it fast enough to get to what he really wanted.  Once he was more or less done, he abandoned the bowl and put his arm around Ciara’s shoulders, leaning her against him to cuddle her like a security blanket.

He methodically and slowly kissed the crown of Ciara’s head as he considered her suggestion. She would know overall about solitary witches after all, having been one for so long.  It was an interesting offer, and Iann was on the cusp of making a decision to take Ciara’s help, when she then turned it around and announced her own departure.

“Oh - well no, don’t worry about it,” Iann said, letting Ciara go, and getting up to wash his dishes.  “It’s cool. What kind of work is -? Oh right, ah.  Never mind.  Don’t worry about it, don’t apologize.  Besides, I know plenty of witches other than you, kid - “ Iann gave Ciara a wink and a smile.  “I’ll just call a pal up.”

Ciara melted into his arms, so he could hold her close and she could feel him breath. A small purr left her throat as he peppered kisses over her hair, as he cradled her, He needed this touch, but so did she. He was her life raft, and the light at the end of a tunnel yet to come. “I love you so fucking much, you know.”

She saw him make a decision, and change it in a heart beat. “Querido-” She murmured as he stood up, twisting in the stool to follow him around the room. “Nothing fun. I’m a threatening presence. I’ll tell you about it after.” But, she knew, Iann didn’t have to ask her for help. He did have plenty of witch friends. Approximately half the witches in town, in fact - the other half hated him. The thought made her smile and she winked back at him. 

“Hopefully both,” Ciara replied with a smirk with real smoothness, ducking in to quickly kiss the corner of his lips, smiling at the rough tickle of his moustache. She took the wine and enjoyed it and him in equal measure. Even when he became serious, she just held him a little tighter. 

She listened as he talked about Kimberly. The nature of their first meeting, and the nature of Kimberly’s return. Her gaze softened. “I thought you said she’d died?” Ciara wanted to celebrate it, but a small part of her hesitated. If it was necromancy… if it was malicious, if this Kimberly was lying. She held him even tighter. 

“Not exactly good enough. Iann, I know how much she means to you. Is there any way to find out more. I mean,” Ciara bit her lip, chewing it idly as she followed him to the table. She could guess why Kimberly had kept things from Iann. “Do you want me to try to find out more from this Kimberly?”

Ciara thought about the call she’d gotten that morning, and the half packed bag on her bed. Slipping into her seat, she watched Iann, trying to decipher this new, complex mood. 

“That’s what I saw,” Iann murmured, frowning as he spooned at the stew.  His tone got continually flatter as he kept talking. “I watched her kill herself.  She told me goodbye… But maybe that was the point.  Maybe she didn’t want me to keep looking.  It it was staged though, all just to get me…off her back, then I don’t know.  I don’t know.”

It was the only way Iann could conclude his talking, because there was too many different conclusions crowding his throat, tightening it.  At the core of it all, was the question of Aunt Lily’s goals and choices.  Why she did all the things she’d done, why she’d left in the first place, why she was so hard to track, why when he finally found her, she tried to kill herself, why apparently she actually didn’t die, why why why.  

“It’s not about me,” he finally managed to come to one conclusion. He was just staring at the bowl of food now, as if he was using it for scrying the truth.  “She didn’t do anything for my sake.  No, it must be something bigger.”

Reaching out, Ciara caught his hand and turned it over, idly tracing the veins on his wrist as he spoke. “I’m so sorry. She shouldn’t have, regardless of the situation. Just let me know what you need or want, and I’m here for  you.”

Ciara huffed a chuckle, in part as Eva worked her way into Iann’s pocket, and in part to his comments on her photos. “I’m looking forward to showing you the real thing later.” It wasn’t an idle promise - this evening’s yellow dress was optimistic for the weather and loose only around her legs.

As Iann opened the wine, he was right, Ciara got the wine glasses out, and began serving the stew onto plates as he talked, and she listened attentively. Her ears pricked as he spoke, and she turned to face him properly, snaking her hands around his waist. 

“What kind of news?”

“Weird news,” Iann grunted, as he poured the wine with a matter-of-fact finesse.  Of someone who was used to pouring wine, although not for himself.  He felt a gitturn wriggling in his pocket, easily tumbling in because Iann never got into the trend of tight jeans.  

“Mmm.  My mouth’s watering - is that because of the food or because of you?” Iann said, his crooked grin negating the smoothness of the comment.

But when Ciara slid her arm around him, Iann handed her the wine and clinked glasses.  He sobered up a bit as he took a sip.  “About Aunt Lily.  One of the girls - Ma used to take in girls, runaways and homeless teenagers who needed a flophouse to crash at before moving on - she showed up at the house.  Kimberly’s her name. Obviously she’s my age now, but I remembered her when we were kids, because Aunt Lily had taken a shining to her and it made me jealous.”  He shook his head, over that childish memory.  

“So one night when the Aunts were asleep - or no, Aunt Jasmine had a guy over, she’s so randy - I confronted Kimberly.  Straight up just asked if she was a witch. She said she was, and we talked for a bit about that.  Apparently she saw…Aunt Lily.  Actually talked with her, although Kimmy refused to tell me what about.”

Iann bristled slightly then, knowing full-well why Kimberly refuted him.  Because he was merely a human.  “Kimmy’d just stopped by on her way south, to let the Aunts know Aunt Lily was alive.  Sometimes that’s all the information we can get about the Aunts who eventually leave the house…”

She listened as he talked about Kimberly. The nature of their first meeting, and the nature of Kimberly’s return. Her gaze softened. “I thought you said she’d died?” Ciara wanted to celebrate it, but a small part of her hesitated. If it was necromancy... if it was malicious, if this Kimberly was lying. She held him even tighter. 

“Not exactly good enough. Iann, I know how much she means to you. Is there any way to find out more. I mean,” Ciara bit her lip, chewing it idly as she followed him to the table. She could guess why Kimberly had kept things from Iann. “Do you want me to try to find out more from this Kimberly?”

“Exciting,” Ciara murmured about the plant, taking it from his hand as she wrapped her other arm around his waist. “I wanted to feel you,” she replied, her eyes flicking down pointedly to his chest. His heartbeat was as familiar his footsteps. 

The door closed behind him as two tiny gitturns clawed their way up his jean trousers. “Oh, she liked the photos of my book arrangement, did she?” Ciara asked teasingly, tracing a line of kissing along the side of his neck, down to the crook of his throat. “Did you approve? And do you want to do the honours with that?” Ciara asked, tapping the cabarnet in his other hand. 

Iann placed the pot on a table, taking up Ciara’s hand and holding it against his chest.  “You can feel all you want. God it’s good to be home,” he exhaled like he was finally exhaling.  Not that the trip down to Portland was difficult, but there was certainly that distinct feeling that he’d been missing something with him.  

“Hey kids,” Iann huffed a surprised laugh as the gits clambered up him.  Their claws were sharp, but Iann didn’t protest.  “Oh ahh - ha ha, yeah, book arrangement.  All that spine,” he murmured nuzzling against Ciara’s long hair relishing her scent, her burning, insistent warmth.

As he opened the wine for them, he knew Ciara would be getting them glasses.  “Tia’s feeling better.  Actually she felt better a week ago, but I stayed another week to help the Aunts with some fixes around the house.  And I…”  Iann poured the wine, and furrowed his brow.  

As Iann opened the wine, he was right, Ciara got the wine glasses out, and began serving the stew onto plates as he talked, and she listened attentively. Her ears pricked as he spoke, and she turned to face him properly, snaking her hands around his waist. 

Ciara had started preparing dinner roughly an hour before Ian was due, a warm comfortable vegetable stew with rice. She paced as she waited, watching Eva and Yarrow climbing along the carefully constructed climbing walls she’d built for them. 

When Iann showed up, she felt his heart first, and swung open the door before he knocked. When he spoke, Ciara cocked her eyebrow, looking down at the pot in sheer amusement. “What kind of seed?” CIara asked softly, before pulling him into her apartment and into her embrace. She scattered kisses all over his face before chasing his lips, kissing him with hunger and the ache of the last few weeks without him. She tasted the journey on his lips. “I’ve missed you.”

The scent of Ciara’s home hit Iann almost before anything else did - the earthy tempting warmth of Ciara’s cooking, that musky underlay of gitturns, and the sweet-spice of Ciara’s witchiness that made Iann’s mouth water.  When she kissed him, it felt like the very definition of amuse-bouche.  A tantalizing promise of what was to come.

“A kumquat-lime hybrid my Aunt Daisy’s been working on,” he said, between the kisses.  He followed where Ciara pulled, sighing in as much contentment as if he was wrapped in a warm blanket.  “Texts just don’t cut it,” he agreed, since he’d been keeping in touch with Ciara through phone calls and texts. 

Iann had to stop at a gas station for a bathroom break, and he called Ciara that he was three hours away from Soapberry, and heading home.  He literally said ‘home’ before clarifying (or maybe specifying?) Ciara’s apartment.

When he showed up at her door, Iann bore two things: a bottle of Eyrie Vineyards cabernet and a small pot of rich dark dirt.   He held the pot up to her.

“There’s a seed in there,” was the first thing Iann said, when Ciara opened the door.

“Oh, yeah,” Ciara agreed, as Eva sniffed his fingertips and wriggled in his hand. She held much too much energy in that tiny body, and immediately crawled out from under his hand to jump over it and nuzzle right back into his palm once more. “I’m enjoying the challenge, at any rate. I know my magic is good, I just need to figure out the market for everything else.”

“I think if I met someone else sporting this mark, I’d give them a wide berth too,” Ciara replied honestly, although her eyes remained fixed on the road, and she was careful not to respond to Ephram’s touch at all. It tingled, every time another witch came close to it, and while the feel of Iann’s silky silver and forest green magic was familiar and comforting “Not that I gave myself a stellar reputation in town to start with. I also think people in this town will be kinder than anyone anywhere else. But it doesn’t really matter.” Those words were a comforting blanket around her, repeating them any time she had to push away anyone else’s opinions. There was very little that did - or should - matter in the end. 

“You didn’t think Freddie was the type to spoil a dog? Have you met Freddie?” Ciara teased, snickering alongside him. If she was honest, the idea of Asker still made her gut curl. Probably, it always would, but she also couldn’t deny that Asker was a being now - one that brought immense pleasure to Ephram and Freddie’s life. She could hold that duality in her, and be happy for Ephram all at once. “I bet you’re the one with all the rules, too.”

“It doesn’t matter like … since you can’t change nobody’s minds, or since you don’t care what nobody thinks? Two real different things there. In my opinion.”  Ephram took his hand back, absently pushing the heel of his palm along his hip where the Cinquefoil was embedded. “Reckon that’s sort of the good thing about most people having a bunch of dramatic shit going on with em – they don’t got the energy to spare for whatever personal business other folks got. But I wanna know, Ciara. I got plenty of energy.”

Ephram shot her a sideways grin, a little bit wry but mostly one of genuine desire to build a closeness.  “Us demon-toting witches should try and get along, dontchathink?”

He used both hands to pour the git in his lap between them, setting her to trotting busily, and said, “Asker’s a working dog! That’s what she’s used to. I didn’t anticipate her changing tunes and goin’ in whole hog for being spoiled and cuddled and given her own – d’you know Freddie bought her a doghouse? That looks like the dang Taj Mahal??” Ephram snorted at the thought. “You’re damn right I’m the one with the rules. Otherwise there wouldn’t be none.” 

“Something like that,” Ciara winked. “Although as the least-possessed possessed-man alive, I don’t know how much you qualify for that anymore.”

“What kind of working did she used to do?” Ciara asked, her eyes flicking to his lap briefly - just enough for her entire heart to melt at the sight of Eva tumbling down Ephram’s hand just to jump right back in them. “I actually can’t imagine anything more Freddie than that. Of course he would. He loves you, so of course he spoils your dog.”

Instinctively, Ephram gave Eva his fingertips to sniff and then curved his big palm over her head, thumb smoothing down her ears as he settled into his seat and put down the window slightly. “That’s what they say about going into business, ain’t it? That it takes a while afore you see a paycheque for yourself.” He shook his head, sucking his teeth. “You got quite a road ahead of you. But here in Soapberry it’s easier than in most places to make a living even with something niche and weird, ain’t it.”

Ephram reached over to pass his thumb along the outside lines of Ciara’s mark, not really thinking about whether or not she’d welcome the touch – he was faintly distracted and that usually made him more impulsive – saying, “Are there really folks here who give you a hard time about this?” 

He heard the question out loud and gave a quick, abashed grin, amending, “–not doubting you, I mean you would know, right? I’m more curious. Lord knows there’s been times when people found out about Anaxis and reacted same as if I’d told em I was tone-deaf. Like it was unfortunate, but no big deal.”

Ciara’s asking about his family, though, made Ephram’s grin multiply in cheer and broadness. “They’re good! Asker loves em both like crazy, which makes sense because Freddie spoils that dog like nobody’s business. I didn’t think he’d be the sort but that’s because I only ever seen him with Ollie, and Ollie don’t really count as a dog, y’know? Anyhow yeah, Asker loves Freddie more’n she loves me at this point I reckon.” Ephram snickered. He found the whole situation amusing more than anything; Asker was a dog and a working dog at that, so her listening to Ephram’s commands was far more important to him than her displaying any of the adoration that she lavished on Freddie and her ‘big brother’ Ollie.

“Oh, yeah,” Ciara agreed, as Eva sniffed his fingertips and wriggled in his hand. She held much too much energy in that tiny body, and immediately crawled out from under his hand to jump over it and nuzzle right back into his palm once more. “I’m enjoying the challenge, at any rate. I know my magic is good, I just need to figure out the market for everything else.”

“I think if I met someone else sporting this mark, I’d give them a wide berth too,” Ciara replied honestly, although her eyes remained fixed on the road, and she was careful not to respond to Ephram’s touch at all. It tingled, every time another witch came close to it, and while the feel of Iann’s silky silver and forest green magic was familiar and comforting “Not that I gave myself a stellar reputation in town to start with. I also think people in this town will be kinder than anyone anywhere else. But it doesn’t really matter.” Those words were a comforting blanket around her, repeating them any time she had to push away anyone else’s opinions. There was very little that did - or should - matter in the end. 

“Detective,” Ephram repeated obligingly, further obliging when Ciara took a more assertive approach and set him against the mantel with enough firmness to make the crystal candlesticks and their delicate etched-glass bobèches rattle. “Inspector, if you want it. Would you want it?” He smoothed his hand down, into the dip of her back and over her backside with his thumb pressing in harder than the passage of his palm, coming to rest under the curve of Ciara’s ass so he could get a grip there, heft her against him.

Maybe that sort of career climbing wasn’t in Ciara’s sights; maybe she preferred to cast her net from somewhere less conspicuous. Maybe the visibility inherent in being a woman Inspector was a negative compared to being a woman Detective who knew the right places to twist and prod in order to get her way. Whatever Ciara deemed most useful, Ephram was fine with, he could work with. His adaptability had always been one of the traits that served him best, even if it necessitated his being alone in his decisions and repercussions more often than not.

He could feel the mirrored heat in her body as she moved against him, boldly and without coyness – something he appreciated, especially at this point in their negotiations. Ephram would have fucked her outside, by that godforsaken shed with the union man weltering inside it, if Cassie hadn’t shown up, but this was better. Made it seem more like they were on an even playing field, to begin their partnership in corruptible cops and reliable robbers.

(And if Ciara was the sort of woman who’d relish being bent across a split-rail fence and taken fast and rough, well … there’d be opportunities for that, still.)

Ephram lifted her against him, holding Ciara’s weight with one arm as he moved his other hand to ruck up her narrow skirt, wanting to feel stocking and skin and skivvies. “You don’t kiss like a married woman,” he said, getting his calloused fingers into the top band of her hosiery, letting the gossamer silk snag. “Do you fuck like one?”

“I don’t know. I want respect, and wealth. Whatever gets me that,” Ciara replied with a smile against his lips. Inspector Woodman had a ring to it, though, she wouldn’t lie. “What do you want, hm?” Her question was cut short with a moan as he squeezed her ass. “Aside from that.” Although, right now, Ciara was completely on board. Whatever he wanted to do, she was willing.

“I'm clearly kissing better married women than you are,” She murmured, her playful tone broken by a hitch in her breath as his hand ran up her thigh. Her skirt only rucked up to her thighs, too narrow to lift over her ass and let her swing her legs properly around him. Ciara growled in frustration, reaching behind her to find her zipper. Once unzipped, the skirt had enough give that she just had to hook her legs around his hip to get the fabric firmly out the way, stockings and garter suspenders exposed.