Wed to the Wild God (Aspect and Anchor)

Almost as worrying as the fact that we were followed earlier.

"You might want to get your boyfriend, honey," a woman at the bar tells me. "He's up to no good."

I glance at the woman—middle-aged, a long cigarette hanging from full lips, and a tired expression on her face. Her dirty-blonde hair is pulled into a messy knot atop her head, and she's nursing a whiskey, neat. I open my mouth to tell her she can't smoke in the bar, but she tilts her head to the corner of the room, where I'd left Kassam with a roll of quarters for the old jukebox. All I can see is the back of his head, and someone else with him, hunched over…which is no good.

Hauling ass, I race over to the back table, threading my way through the crowd. "Kassam?"

The silver-eyed man looks up in delight at the sight of me. The thin, slightly dirty-looking man and woman with him? Less thrilled. "My light," he calls, beaming in my direction. He extends a hand out to me, which I take, pushing my way to his side. "We are just about to smoke something! What do you call it again?"

The couple looks shifty, and I notice the woman hides her lighter.

Oh no. No, no no. I shake my head, a hard, frozen feeling churning in the pit of my belly. I remember finding my father hiding out in the bathroom too many times, his lighter in hand. I remember a childhood full of missing spoons and kitchenware stolen, only to be found in the bottom of a closet, covered in foil and charred. I remember how my father's personality would change when he was smoking up. I remember being wary of coming home from school to find him itching and cranky, and how he'd always turn on me and pick everything I did apart. Fighting back nausea and old memories, I lean in to Kassam. "If you touch drugs, we are done."

He looks surprised at my anger. "You do not approve?"

"I don't do drugs. I don't want to be around anyone that does them."

Kassam studies my face. What he sees there must convince him, because he nods. "Hedonism does not have many limits. I never know what is appropriate in a mortal form and what is not. If this upsets you, I will forego it."

"It upsets me," I say tightly. I turn to the couple. "And if I catch you two smoking anything, you're banned for life. Understand?"

"Bitch," the man mutters, tucking something back into his pocket.

To my surprise, Kassam jerks to his feet. There's no pleasure on his face, only rage. His silvery eyes blaze and his fists tighten. "You did not call my woman a foul name, did you?" He grabs the man by his collar and hauls him up against the wall, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "I can find just as much pleasure in destruction as I can in nose spices, my friend. So say something again. I dare you."

Things are just going from bad to worse. I race over to Kassam's side, pulling at his arm as he hauls the man effortlessly up against the wall. "No, Kassam, no. Don't—"

His intense gaze pins me. There's heated lust in his eyes, but also a banked rage. "Shall I kill him for you, my Carly?" he purrs.

Oh god. "No. No killing. Very frowned upon," I say, tugging on his arm again. I give his wrist a little squeeze, my fingers moving over his tanned skin. It zings me with a light, pleasant orgasm that makes my toes curl and my pussy clench, but I manage to hold my shit together anyhow. Kassam's look goes to pure heat and he drops the man, his focus entirely on me.

God, that focus is epic, too. It's like nothing else in the world exists but me and him, and the air practically crackles with sexual energy. Someone in the back of the bar grabs a man by his collar and starts making out with him, and I have a feeling there's going to be an orgy here if I don't do something. I let go of him and hold out my hand. "Come on," I say, and my voice is nearly drowned out by the sound of the packed bar. "Give me ten minutes. I'll wrap things up and we'll get out of here and go be hedonistic at home."

Kassam practically purrs at that. "I like the way you think, my light."

He reaches for me, but I just give him a naughty wink and gesture at the bar. If he touches me again, I'm never going to stay focused long enough to cash out. "Can I get you to sit there for a few minutes? I'll pour you some shots and you can guess which one is my favorite."