Page 156 of The Rogue's Curse

“I know,” Paris said proudly. Misha smacked his thigh lightly, prompting a laugh. He leaned over, silencing Misha’s indignant protest with a kiss. When he broke away, he cocked his head. “Does it feel strange to meet with them like this? Knowing my connection to Alistair?”

“I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it,” Misha said, stroking his thigh.

Paris plucked his hand away, giving him a stern look. “Don’t tease unless you plan to do something about it,” he warned.

Misha cocked his head and said, “Drive around the block and I will.”

As it turned out, Misha Volkov did not make idle threats and did not intend to start today. Paris drove a quarter mile down the road and pulled off into the trees, managing to text Shoshanna that they were going to pick up a bottle of wine before coming back.

He was still seeing stars as Misha sat up, wiping his mouth with a satisfied chuckle. Misha squinted at Paris’s phone and said, “Shoshanna says you’re full of shit because you know they have a huge wine cellar.”

“Next time I’ll tell her I didn’t want to scandalize her by getting head in her front yard,” Paris drawled.

Misha just laughed, kissed his cheek, and settled back in his seat. They made a detour to a twenty-four-hour package store in town and bought a bottle of decent whiskey as a cover. As Paris whipped around to drive back to the house, his mate said, “I’ll get mine when we go home.”

“Oh yeah?”

Misha nodded. “I’m going to fold you in half and fuck you until you beg,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Good God, Misha,” he said.

“Not interested?”

“I’m interested in going home right now,” Paris quipped. His lover’s filthy mouth had him shifting uncomfortably to adjust his pants after parking in the curving driveway. If anything, Misha tended to understate things.

“Good,” Misha said, giving him a firm pinch on the ass as they got out of the car.

“We could pretend to be sick and go home now,” Paris murmured.

“That would be rude,” Misha teased. He reached out to knock on the door, then lit up with a bright smile when Alistair opened the door. “Good evening.”

“Welcome,” Alistair said warmly, inviting them in. He shook Misha’s hand, then embraced Paris tightly. His green eyes drifted to Misha, then back to Paris as he smiled warmly.

“Oh, your home is beautiful,” Misha said, turning on the charm like he hadn’t just made a promise to absolutely wreck Paris.

Shoshanna bustled into the foyer, looking resplendent in a sparkling silver dress that glowed against her skin. Her scent was stronger than ever—a lovely vanilla-sage smell always clung to her, but something richer and stronger lingered there now as well. Her growing magical power was palpable, thrumming in the air and tickling at his senses. Misha had confided in Paris that when Shoshanna was turned, she would be a juggernaut of a blood witch.

Misha actually jolted slightly when he took her hand and kissed it. “You look lovely,” he said. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“Of course,” she said, scurrying over for a kiss on the cheek from Paris. “I’m glad you made it.” Then her smile faltered. “I wanted to tell you about something before everyone else gets here.”

Alistair delivered a stack of fine crystal glasses to the stone island in the kitchen, where Shoshanna had several platters of food covered in foil, along with heated carafes. He inspected the bottle of whiskey Paris had brought, raised an eyebrow, then poured them each a glass before settling down.

Shoshanna took Alistair’s hand as she began to speak. “Allie and I went up to visit Elijah a couple of days ago. When he first went home from the hospital, he was still so medicated that he couldn’t remember anything before the attack. You know I went up again after you and Misha woke up,” she said.

Paris nodded. “I remember.”

“I warded his whole house and gave him another dose of Allie’s blood to help him heal,” she said. “He still didn’t remember anything. But he called me a couple days ago to say he was having some flashes, so I went up to check on him.” Her brow furrowed. “I’m not a healer, and I’m not psychic by any stretch of the imagination. But I thought that maybe if I examined him the way I did with you guys to understand your curses, it might shake something loose.”

“And?” Paris asked.

“It did. He still didn’t remember what happened, but he remembered a man’s face,” she said. “He didn’t know the man, but he had a scar under one eye and a strong accent. He said German, but it could have been Russian.”

Paris felt as if his belly fell through the floor. “Kova,” he murmured.

Shoshanna nodded. “Like I said, I’m not psychic. Maybe I influenced him somehow with my own fears, but it makes sense that Kova might attack if he’s working for Armina Voss. And that means she could be after me. I thought it had to be Shea since he knew I was protecting you guys, but I can’t imagine that Armina is happy about me breaking all her curses and releasing all the spirits she bound.”

“Do you want to hide?” He glanced at Misha. “We know someone with a lovely place in London that’s sitting empty.”

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