Magic Slays - By Ilona Andrews Page 0,38

made a quiet masculine noise, halfway between a deep growling rumble and a purr.

Oh my God.

His hands slid over my back and down, caressing, shifting me closer, until I felt the hard length of his erection press against me. Oh yes. "We should move out of the tub." I nipped his lower lip.

He kissed my neck. "Why?"

"Because I want you to be on top and I don't have gills."

Curran rose, lifting me out of the water, and carried me to the living room.

WE LAY ON THE COUCH, TANGLED IN A BLANKET. "SO what are you going to do about Ascanio?" I asked him.

Curran sighed. "Most young guys have somebody to imitate: their father, their alpha, me. When I was younger, I had my father and then Mahon. Ascanio has nobody. His father is dead, his alpha is female, and he can't relate to me. He obeys me and he acknowledges that I have the right to punish him, but he doesn't feel the need to be like me."

"You mean he doesn't instantly hero-worship you? Perish the thought."

He scowled at me. "I think I'll make mouthing off to the Beast Lord a punishable offense."

"Punishable by what?

"Oh, I'll think of something. Anyway, I decided to give him to Raphael."

Raphael was handsome, he earned a good living, women fell over themselves to line his path, and he was vicious in a fight. I could see how a young male bouda might think that nobody on Earth was cooler.

"I'll ask Raphael to mentor him," Curran said. "As a personal favor. Before he steps in, I'll make that spoiled brat's life pure hell, so when Raphael takes him off our hands, Ascanio will think he walks on water."

That made total sense, except Curran and Raphael weren't on good terms. In fact, Curran had once referred to Raphael as B's precious peacock. "You're going to ask Raphael for a favor?" I stopped and made a big show of staring into Curran's eyes. "Pupils aren't dilated. You aren't high or drunk ..."

"He helped set up your business," Curran said. "And we have some things in common."

"Like what?"

"I know what he's going through. I've been there. Raphael is too much in his own head right now. The boy would be good for him. It will force him to think of something else."

I was pretty sure that nothing short of Andrea would get Raphael out of his head. "That would be great, except he is neck deep in his funk. Aunt B probably asked him already and he must've said no."

"I'm not Aunt B," Curran said. "I noticed."

He stroked my shoulder. "Your tattoo faded. I can barely see it."

I turned my head, trying to get a look at the raven. The black lines of the design had faded to pale gray; the sword, and the words , Raven's Gift, were almost gone.

"Doolittle says it's because of all the medmagic he's been subjecting me to over the last weeks. A lot of my scars faded, too. It's probably for the best. It was a cheesy tattoo anyway. Every time someone saw it, they'd ask what it said and why did I have Cyrillic letters on my shoulder ..." I clamped my mouth shut.

"What?"

The Cyrillic alphabet was created by two Greek monks around AD 900. Before the Cyrillic alphabet, the Slavs used Glagolitic script, which took root in strokes-and-incisions writing--Slavic runes.

The inventor's last name was Kamen. Kamen meant "stone" in Russian. Usually Russian names ended on "-ov" or "-ev," but it was possible his family had changed their last name to make it easier for an English speaker.

I dialed the guardroom. Barabas picked up the phone, his slightly ironic tenor amused before I even had a chance to say anything. "Yes, Consort?"

"Why is everyone calling me Consort?"

"Jim designated you as Consort in official papers. You don't want to be called Mate, calling you Alpha is confusing, and `Beast Lady' makes people laugh."

"Why is it necessary to attach a title to me at all?"

"Because you are attached to the Beast Lord."

Behind me Curran chuckled to himself. Apparently I amused everyone this evening. "I know it's late, but could you find a book for me? It's called The Slavs: Study of Pagan Tradition by Osvintsev."

Barabas sighed dramatically. "Kate, you make me despair. Let's try that again from the top, except this time pretend you are an alpha."

"I don't need a lecture. I just need the book."

"Much better. Little more growl in the voice?"

"Barabas!"

"And we're there. Congratulations! There is hope for you yet. I

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