Chapter 7: Coral Walls and Carnal Visions
The guard's helmet tilted as he studied Jan's badge.
Diego held his breath, counting the seconds. Beside him, Calista stood perfectly still, her silver hair tucked beneath a Consortium cap that was slightly too big for her head. The glamour made the disguise work—made her look like a junior agent rather than a half-elf model—but Diego could still feel the heat radiating off her skin.
"Everything checks out," the guard said. His voice was muffled by the helmet, flat and disinterested. "The package is in the east wing. Vane's got guards on rotation. You'll need to check in with her before you collect."
"Of course," Jan said, her smile bright and easy. "We'll head straight there."
The guard waved them through.
The gate groaned as it opened, and Diego stepped into the castle's interior. The air changed immediately—cooler, damper, thick with the smell of wet stone and something older. The coral walls stretched up toward a ceiling lost in shadow, and runes flickered along their surfaces in patterns that hurt to look at directly.
"Keep moving," Jan murmured. "Don't look at the walls."
They walked in a tight cluster, their footsteps echoing off the polished stone floor. Diego stayed close to Calista, his eyes fixed on the back of Mike's shaggy grey head. The corridor twisted and turned, branching off into darkness, and Diego felt the weight of the castle pressing down on him from all sides.
Then Mandy stumbled.
It was subtle—just a hitch in her step, a brief stumble that she covered with a cough. But Diego saw the way her eyes went unfocused, the way her lips parted slightly, the way her hands clenched at her sides.
"Mandy?" Ben's voice was low, concerned. "You okay?"
"I'm fine." Mandy's voice was tight. "Just—give me a second."
She stopped walking. The group stopped with her, clustering tighter, and Diego saw the worry on Casey's face, the way Mike's hand drifted toward his daughter's shoulder.
"Bug?" Mike said. "What's happening?"
Mandy blinked hard. Twice. Three times. Her eyes snapped back into focus, and when she looked at her father, there was something in her expression that Diego couldn't quite read.
"The glamour," she said. "It's not just disguising us. It's—fuck, this is going to sound insane."
"Try me."
"I just saw Felicity and Mai." Mandy's cheeks flushed red. "And they weren't—there were no clothes involved. At all. And they were touching me. Everywhere. And it felt..."
She trailed off.
Felicity made a small sound—something caught between a gasp and a moan. Her eyes were glassy, her lips parted, and she was staring at Mandy with an intensity that made Diego's stomach flip.
"I saw you," Felicity whispered. "On your knees. In front of me. And you were—"
"Okay." Jan's voice cut through the moment like a blade. "Everyone stop. Right now."
The command cracked through the corridor like a whip.
Everyone froze. Diego's heart hammered against his ribs, and he watched Jan pivot slowly, her green eyes scanning the group with the precision of a surgeon. Godfrey sat at her feet, the little Maltese's ears perked, his tiny body vibrating with alertness.
"Nobody moves until I figure out what's happening," Jan said.
Her voice was calm, but Diego caught the undercurrent of urgency beneath it—the kind of controlled fear that came from decades of walking into impossible situations and walking out again.
Jan's gaze swept across each face. She lingered on Mandy first, noting the flush creeping up her neck, the way her fingers twitched at her sides. Then Felicity, whose blue eyes had gone the color of storm clouds, her breathing shallow and uneven. Beth next, standing perfectly still with her camera hanging forgotten from its strap, her lips slightly parted. Ben, whose hand had drifted to the small of Jess's back without him seeming to notice. Mai, practically vibrating with restless energy, her pupils blown wide.
"Right," Jan murmured. She moved on. Calista stood with her arms crossed, her glamour-disguised face serene beneath the frizzy brown hair. Diego caught her eye, and she gave him a small shrug—she was fine, apparently, riding out whatever wave of magic was crashing through the corridor. Next to her, Mike and Casey stood close together, but while Mike's expression was clear and focused, Casey's eyes had gone soft and hazy.
"You're seeing something," Mike said quietly. It wasn't a question.
Casey's smile was private. "You. Twenty years younger. That hotel in Barcelona."
Mike's cheeks flushed. "We can talk about that later."
"If we survive this, I'm holding you to that."
Jan moved past them, checking Rick and Stacy. Rick's jaw was tight, his arm around Stacy's waist, but his eyes were clear enough. Stacy looked like she was mentally cataloguing exits—her usual bodyguard mode, unshaken. Bruce was staring at a blank section of wall with the kind of intensity usually reserved for religious experiences. Amy and Jason were holding hands, Jason's thumb tracing circles on his wife's palm, both of them looking dazed but not incapacitated.
Yukio leaned on her cane, her expression sharp and assessing. She caught Jan's eye and shook her head slightly—she was in control, but barely.
"Okay," Jan said. "Here's what's happening."
She turned to face the group fully, Godfrey hopping up into her arms with a practiced motion. The little dog settled against her chest, his dark eyes watchful.
"The Green Moon glamour I'm using to disguise us has a side effect I didn't anticipate." Jan's voice was steady, matter-of-fact. "It feeds on desire. And this place—" She gestured at the coral walls surrounding them. "This limestone is old. It's soaked in magic. It's amplifying everything."
"What does that mean, exactly?" Rebecca asked. Her voice was clear, her blue eyes focused. Diego noticed that she and Charley stood close together, both of them conspicuously unaffected.
"It means we're broadcasting our subconscious fantasies into each other's heads," Jan said. "The longer we stay under the glamour, the harder it'll be to tell what's real and what's conjured."
"Fucking hell," Mandy muttered.
"Eloquent as always, Bug," Casey said. Her voice was warm despite the situation.
Jan held up a hand. "Here's who's affected and how badly." She pointed at Mandy, Felicity, Beth, Ben, and Mai in turn. "You five are getting hit the hardest. Your minds are wide open right now, and that's dangerous."
"I feel fine," Ben said. His hand was still on Jess's back, fingers spread wide against the fabric of her shirt. Jess didn't seem to mind.
"You're not fine," Jan said. "You just don't know it yet."
She turned to Calista. "You're doing something with your own glamour. It's protecting you."
Calista nodded, her disguised face bobbing beneath the frizzy brown hair. "I've got layers. The outer one is just the disguise; the inner one is keeping the feedback loop out."
"Good girl." Jan's gaze moved to Diego, Mike, Jess, Rebecca, Charley, Katrina, and Stacy. "You're all clear. Whatever's happening, you're not picking up the signal."
Diego exhaled slowly. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath.
"Casey, Rick, Bruce, Amy, Jason, Yukio—you're somewhere in between. You're getting something, but you can still function." Jan's eyes narrowed. "The rest of you need supervision."
"I saw everyone naked," Mai announced.
The corridor went silent.
Mai's voice was dreamy, her English accent stretching the vowels into something almost musical. "All of you. Every single one. The men were—" She paused, biting her lower lip. "They were stroking their cocks. Slow and hard. Watching me. And the women were jealous. So fucking jealous."
"Mai," Yukio said. Her voice was gentle but firm. "Focus."
"I am focusing." Mai turned to her mother, and there was something almost hurt in her expression. "It's delicious. The fantasy. I don't want it to stop."
"It has to stop." Yukio stepped forward, her cane clicking against the stone floor. She reached out and took Mai's hand, squeezing it tight. "We're here for Rachel. Remember? Your friend. The girl who's been missing for a year."
Mai blinked.
Her pupils contracted slightly, and for a moment, Diego saw something like clarity return to her eyes.
"Right," she said. "Rachel. I remember."
"Good." Yukio looked at Jan. "What do you need?"
Jan adjusted her grip on Godfrey, who had started squirming. The little dog clearly did not appreciate being used as a magical anchor.
"We need to keep moving," Jan said. "But we need to do it in pairs. Anyone who's clear sticks with someone who isn't."
"I'll take Mandy," Jess said immediately.
"No offense, Agent Kay, but you're not exactly at full strength right now." Mike's voice was calm, almost apologetic. "You're clear, but you're also new to the team. If something goes wrong, you don't have the instincts yet."
Jess opened her mouth to argue, but Ben cut her off.
"I'll stay with Mandy." His hand finally dropped from Jess's back, and he moved to stand beside his girlfriend. "We're dating. If I'm going to see anyone naked in my head, it might as well be her."
Mandy laughed. It was a short, sharp sound, but there was genuine warmth in it. "That's the most romantic thing you've ever said to me."
"I aim to please."
"Okay," Jan said. "Ben and Mandy together. Felicity, you're with Bruce."
Felicity made a small sound of protest. Her eyes were still glassy, her cheeks flushed. "I don't think Bruce is the problem."
"I know he's not," Jan said. "But he's only partially affected, which means he can keep you grounded. Bruce, you're on Flick duty. Don't let her wander off."
Bruce nodded, his expression serious despite the dazed look in his eyes. He reached out and took Felicity's hand, his fingers intertwining with hers.
"Aye," he said. "I've got her."
"Beth, you're with your mother."
Beth blinked. "Mom's not exactly clear either."
"I know." Jan's voice softened. "But she's your mother. She'll keep you safe even if she's not at one hundred percent."
Casey crossed the room and put her arm around Beth's shoulders. "Come on, Lizzy. Let's find your friend."
Beth leaned into her mother's embrace, and for a moment, she looked younger than her twenty years. Her camera bumped against her hip, forgotten.
"Rick, you're with Stacy. Amy, Jason—you stay together. Yukio, you're with Rebecca and Charley."
"What about me?" Calista asked.
Jan considered for a moment. "You're fine under your own glamour, but you're also our best fighter. I want you on point."
Calista nodded, her disguised face splitting into a grin that didn't quite match her mousy appearance. "I can do that."
"What about you?" Mike asked Jan. "Who's watching you?"
Jan smiled. It was the kind of smile that made Diego understand why people called her the Red Tornado. "I've got Godfrey. And I've been doing this for thirty years. I'll be fine."
Diego raised his hand.
Everyone looked at him.
"I know I'm just the defector," he said. "But I want to help. Put me somewhere useful."
Jan studied him for a long moment. Then she nodded.
"You're with me. You've been inside Consortium operations before. I want your eyes on everything unusual."
Diego swallowed. "Yes, ma'am."
"Good." Jan turned and began walking down the corridor, Godfrey tucked under one arm. "Let's move. We're burning moonlight."
The group fell into formation behind her, pairs clustering together like magnets drawn to opposite poles. Diego walked just behind Jan, his eyes sweeping the corridor for anything out of place.
Calista caught up with him.
Her disguise was unsettling. The frizzy brown hair, the plain face, the hunched posture—none of it matched the fierce half-elf who had interrogated him in the bakery. But when she spoke, her voice was the same: warm honey over broken glass.
"You're staring," she said.
Diego's cheeks heated. "Sorry."
"Don't be." Calista's disguised eyes—dull brown instead of gold—met his. "I'm sorry if I came off scary earlier. We had to make sure your defection was real."
"I understand."
"Do you?" She tilted her head, and for a moment, the glamour flickered, revealing a hint of silver hair beneath the brown. "Because you ran from the Consortium. You risked your life to warn us. And then we zip-tied you to a table and interrogated you for an hour."
Diego considered this.
"You had to be sure," he said. "I get it. If I was in your position, I'd do the same thing."
Calista smiled. It was a real smile, warm and bright despite the plain face she was wearing. "You're not as much of a coward as you think."
"You said that before."
"I meant it both times."
She winked at him—a quick, playful gesture that made his stomach flip—and then moved ahead, her posture shifting back into the mousy disguise as she scouted the corridor ahead.
Diego watched her go.
The half-elf who had pinned him to a table and demanded the truth was being nice to him. She was joking with him. She had winked at him.
He didn't know what to do with that.
They passed another guard checkpoint. Jan handled it with the same smooth confidence as before, her fake Consortium credentials passing inspection without a hiccup. The guards barely looked at the rest of them—just another team of agents, going about their business.
Diego watched how the others moved.
Mandy and Ben walked close together, their shoulders brushing. Mandy's eyes kept drifting to Ben's face, and Ben's hand rested on the small of her back in a gesture that seemed almost unconscious. Whatever fantasies they were seeing, they were clearly about each other.
Felicity and Bruce were quieter. Felicity's face was still flushed, her eyes downcast, but Bruce held her hand steady, his thumb tracing slow circles on her palm. Every few steps, he leaned down to whisper something in her ear, and Felicity would nod or shake her head.
Beth walked with her mother, her camera clutched to her chest like a shield. Casey's arm stayed around her shoulders, and occasionally, Casey would murmur something that made Beth laugh—a soft, surprised sound that echoed strangely in the stone corridor.
Mai had calmed down. Yukio's hand stayed on her daughter's arm, grounding her, and Mai's breathing had steadied into something almost normal. She was still flushed, still restless, but the dreamy quality had left her eyes.
Jan led them deeper into the castle.
The corridors twisted and turned, branching into darkness, and Diego felt the weight of the coral pressing down on him from all sides. The runes on the walls flickered faster now, pulsing with a rhythm that matched his heartbeat.
Then Jan stopped.
The room ahead was large—a circular chamber with a vaulted ceiling that disappeared into shadow. Crystals embedded in the walls cast a pale, blue light that made everything look underwater.
At the center of the room stood Marissa Vane.
She was exactly as Diego remembered from Consortium briefings: platinum blonde hair pulled back in a severe bun, sharp cheekbones, cold grey eyes that assessed everyone in the room with the detachment of a predator sizing up prey. She wore practical clothes—black cargo pants, a fitted tactical vest—and her hands were relaxed at her sides.
Beside her, kneeling on the stone floor, was Rachel Murphy.
The control collar around Rachel's neck glowed with a sickly green light. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, her whole posture slack with drained obedience. Her red hair hung limp around her face, and her clothes were wrinkled and stained.
Beth made a small sound.
Diego glanced at her. The youngest Williamson had gone pale, her hands trembling around her camera. Rachel had been her best friend in middle school. They had grown up together. And now Rachel looked like a puppet with its strings cut.
Beth was seeing the reality of what the Consortium did to people who defied them.
And she was terrified for her friend.
Jan kept walking.
She crossed the room with steady steps, Godfrey still tucked under one arm. Her face was calm, her posture relaxed, every inch the confident Green Moon operative on a simple retrieval mission.
"Marissa Vane," Jan said. "I'm here to collect the package."
Vane's eyes narrowed.
She looked at Jan. Looked at Godfrey. Looked at the rest of the group trailing behind her, and Diego watched recognition flicker across her face in real time.
"O'Connor," Vane said. Her voice was low and cold. "You brought a dog to a bounty collection."
"He's a service animal."
"He's a liability." Vane's hand dropped to her hip, where a small device was clipped to her belt. "And you're not Consortium. You're not even close."
"We're paying customers."
"Bullshit." Vane's eyes swept the group again, and this time they landed on Mandy, on Beth, on Rick, on Mai. "I know these faces. They tried to break into a Consortium black site three months ago. They failed."
Diego felt the temperature in the room drop.
Vane's gaze kept moving, and then it stopped.
Yukio.
Diego watched Vane's expression transform—from cold assessment to something rawer, something personal. Her grey eyes blazed with outrage, with old hatred, with the kind of fury that came from a wound that had never properly healed.
"Harata," Vane snarled.
Yukio straightened, leaning on her cane. Her face was calm, but Diego saw her grip tighten on the handle.
"Vane," she said. "You're looking well."
"You stole my dragon egg."
"I liberated a dragon egg. There's a difference."
"You cost me ten million dollars."
"You were going to sell an unborn dragon to a collector who wanted to mount its head on a wall. I consider that a public service."
Vane's hand moved toward her belt.
Diego had seen that device before—a null-field generator, the kind the Consortium used to suppress magic in high-risk prisoners. If she activated it, half the people in this room would be helpless.
He opened his mouth to warn Jan, to shout, to do something.
But before he could speak, the far door slammed open.
Consortium agents poured into the room.
They wore the same sharp-pi insignia Diego had seen a hundred times, their charcoal suits crisp, their weapons raised. At their head stood a tall man with a shaved head and cold eyes—someone Diego didn't recognize, but who clearly outranked everyone else in the room.
"Marissa Vane," the man said. "The Consortium is here to collect the Murphy girl. We have a contract."
Vane's eyes darted between Jan's group and the new arrivals.
Diego watched her calculate—the numbers, the odds, the exit strategies. He had seen that expression before, in the basement of the Baltimore facility, when he had decided to run.
Vane's hand slowly moved away from her belt.
"I've already got a buyer," she said.
"The buyer's changed." The Consortium agent stepped forward, his boots echoing on the stone floor. "Mrs. Murphy has authorized us to take custody, by any means necessary."
And then everything went to hell.
The first Consortium agent through the door took a bullet to the chest before he finished his first step.
Diego didn't see who fired. He only saw the man crumple, his charcoal suit blooming red, and then the room dissolved into pure chaos. Vane's security—mercenaries in dark tactical gear—opened fire from the shadows of the vaulted ceiling, their muzzle flashes painting the crystal walls in strobing white. The Consortium agents returned fire, and Diego threw himself behind a pillar as bullets chewed the coral around him.
Jan dropped her glamour.
The effect was instantaneous and disorienting. One moment, Diego was looking at a cluster of plain-faced Consortium operatives. The next, the Williamsons and their friends stood revealed in their true forms—Calista's silver hair catching the blue light, Casey's silver-streaked brunette, Mandy's shaggy mop, Felicity's scholarly blonde. The Green Moon magic that had been disguising them evaporated like mist in sunlight.
"Scatter!" Jan shouted. Godfrey barked once, sharp and commanding.
Beth moved before anyone else.
She grabbed Rachel by the arm and hauled her toward a side corridor, her camera swinging wildly on its strap. Rachel stumbled, her control collar pulsing green, but Beth didn't slow down. She didn't look back.
"Go, go, go!" Casey shoved Rick toward the same corridor, and Stacy was already moving, her hand diving into her jacket for the pistol she always carried.
Diego pressed his back against the pillar and tried to count the shooters.
At least six Consortium agents, all of them armed, all of them taking cover behind overturned tables and stone outcroppings. Vane's security numbered four that he could see, but there were probably more hidden in the shadows. That made ten hostiles minimum, and only a handful of the group were fighters.
Calista wasn't hiding.
She stepped into the open, her hands already blazing with orange fire. The flames coiled around her fingers like living things, and when she threw her first punch, a wave of heat rolled off her in a visible ripple. One of Vane's mercenaries screamed as his tactical vest melted into his skin.
Mai was right behind her.
She'd produced two curved knives from somewhere—Diego hadn't seen where—and she moved through the chaos like water, ducking under a Consortium agent's wild swing and opening his forearm from wrist to elbow. Blood sprayed across the coral. Mai didn't pause.
Yukio stood guard over Rebecca and Charley, her cane held like a staff. When a mercenary tried to flank them, she cracked the cane across his knee, and he went down screaming.
"Stay behind me," she said. Rebecca nodded, her face pale but steady. Charley's hands were raised, and Diego saw the faint shimmer of something in the air around him—the last remnants of Auditor power, maybe, or just the instinct of a man who had once been something more than human.
Mike grabbed Casey's hand.
"Side corridor," he said. "Now."
They ran. Diego watched them go—two overweight middle-aged people who had no business being in a firefight, fleeing toward the darkness. Part of him wanted to follow. But Jan had told him to stay close, and Jan was still in the middle of the room, her Green Moon power pulsing around her in invisible waves.
Vane had disappeared.
Diego scanned the chamber, his heart hammering. The bounty hunter had been standing at the center of the room when the shooting started, but now she was gone—melted into the shadows, or slipped through a hidden door, or—
There.
Vane emerged from behind a pillar ten feet from Yukio, a short blade in one hand and a small metallic sphere in the other. Her face was twisted with fury, her grey eyes locked on Yukio with the kind of hatred that had been marinating for years.
"Harata," she hissed.
Yukio turned.
Vane threw the sphere.
It wasn't a grenade—Diego knew that immediately. There was no explosion, no shrapnel, no fire. Instead, the sphere burst open in midair and released a cloud of shimmering pink gas that expanded outward in a perfect sphere.
A lust bomb.
Diego had heard rumors about them. The Consortium had developed them for interrogation—a chemical compound that amplified arousal to unbearable levels, reducing even the most resistant prisoner to a desperate, begging mess. They were illegal under every magical treaty in existence. And Vane had just deployed one in a room full of civilians.
Yukio inhaled.
Her eyes went wide, then glassy, and her grip on the cane faltered. Mai screamed—a raw, furious sound—and lunged at Vane, her knives flashing. But the bounty hunter was ready. She sidestepped Mai's attack and drove her blade toward Yukio's chest.
Calista saw it happen.
She was already moving, her fire flaring bright, her silver hair streaming behind her. But Vane was faster than she looked. The bounty hunter spun, assessed the incoming threat, and reached into her vest for another sphere.
This one was aimed at Calista.
Diego didn't think.
He just moved.
His body collided with Calista's, shoving her sideways, and the lust bomb detonated exactly where she'd been standing. The pink gas billowed outward, catching two figures who had been trying to retreat toward the side corridor.
Amy and Jason Bryant.
Diego watched in horror as the cloud enveloped them. Amy gasped, her hand flying to her chest, and Jason staggered, his eyes going wide. They looked at each other—just one look—and then something in their expressions changed.
Amy grabbed Jason's hand and pulled him toward a shadowed alcove at the far end of the chamber. Jason followed without resistance, his breathing already ragged, his hands already reaching for the buttons of his shirt.
Diego lost sight of them behind a pillar.
Calista was on the ground beneath him, her golden eyes wide, her chest heaving. He'd landed half on top of her, his hands braced on either side of her head, his body pressed against hers.
"You okay?" he gasped.
She stared at him.
Then she smiled—a slow, dangerous smile that made his stomach flip.
"You pushed me out of the way," she said.
"You would have been hit."
"I know." She reached up and touched his face, her fingers warm against his cheek. "You saved me."
Diego's throat tightened. "It was instinct."
"Bullshit." Calista's eyes flickered to where Amy and Jason had disappeared, then back to him. "You knew what that bomb would do. You knew what would happen if it hit me. And you chose to take the risk instead."
"I—"
"Consider this an apology and a thank you all in one."
She pulled his face down and kissed him.
Diego had been kissed before. He'd had girlfriends, lovers, one-night stands that he barely remembered. But he had never been kissed like this—like the world was ending, like there was no tomorrow, like the only thing that mattered was the press of her lips against his.
Calista's hands slid into his hair, her fingers curling against his scalp. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, and Diego felt the heat of her body through their clothes like a furnace.
"Wait," he managed. "The fight—"
"Can wait." Calista's voice was husky, her glamour flickering around her in waves that made his head spin. "I've been wanting to do this since you told me the truth in the bakery."
"Really?"
"You're a good man, Diego." She kissed him again, deeper this time, her tongue sliding against his. "And good men deserve rewards."
Diego stopped arguing.
He kissed her back, his hands moving to her waist, feeling the curve of her hips through the tactical pants she wore. Calista moaned into his mouth—a soft, urgent sound—and her fingers found the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward.
"Fuck," she whispered. "I need you. Right now."
"Here?"
"Here." She pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. "Everyone's busy. Nobody's watching."
Diego glanced around.
She was right. The fight had spread through the chamber—Calista's earlier fire had set one of Vane's mercenary groups ablaze, and the Consortium agents were too busy trying to survive to notice two people tangled together on the floor. Jan was still in the center of the room, her magic pulsing, and Yukio had recovered enough to drive Vane back with a series of vicious cane strikes.
Nobody was watching them.
Diego looked down at Calista.
Her silver hair was spread across the stone floor like a halo, and her golden eyes were dark with need. Her glamour was pouring off her in waves now—not the controlled disguise she'd used earlier, but something raw and primal that made his blood sing.
"You're beautiful," he said.
"I know." She grinned, and it was the most arrogant, wonderful thing he'd ever seen. "Now take off my pants."
Diego did.
His fingers fumbled with the button, the zipper, and then he was pulling the fabric down her legs, revealing pale skin and long, lean muscles. Her underwear was simple black cotton, already damp at the crotch, and he could smell her—a musky, sweet scent that made his mouth water.
Calista kicked off her boots and pants, then reached for his belt.
"You're hard already," she observed.
"Can you blame me?"
"No." She freed his cock from his jeans, and her eyes widened slightly. "Oh. That's nice."
Diego wasn't sure what to say to that. He wasn't enormous—not like Ben, according to the jokes he'd heard—but he was above average, and Calista's reaction sent a surge of pride through him.
She stroked him once, twice, her fingers wrapping around his shaft with practiced ease. Diego groaned, his hips jerking forward, and Calista laughed—a low, throaty sound.
"Impatient," she said.
"I've been waiting for this since the bakery."
"Me too." She guided him toward her entrance, her legs spreading wider. "Don't make me wait any longer."
Diego didn't.
He pushed inside her slowly, savoring the way her body stretched around him, the heat and tightness and wetness of her. Calista gasped, her back arching, her nails digging into his shoulders.
"Fuck," she breathed. "Yes. Just like that."
Diego began to move.
The rhythm started slow—long, deep strokes that made Calista moan with every thrust. Her glamour intensified, wrapping around them both like a cocoon, and Diego felt himself falling into it, losing himself in the pleasure of her body.
"Harder," she demanded.
He obeyed.
His hips slammed into hers, driving his cock deep, and the sound of their bodies meeting echoed off the coral walls. Calista's moans grew louder, her legs tightening around his waist, her hands gripping his ass and pulling him deeper.
"Don't stop," she gasped. "Don't you fucking stop."
Diego had no intention of stopping.
He fucked her with everything he had, his body moving on instinct, his mind empty of everything except the feel of her around him. The fight, the Consortium, the danger—none of it mattered. There was only Calista, only her heat, only her golden eyes staring up at him with something that looked almost like worship.
"I'm close," she said.
"Me too."
"Then come with me." She reached down and rubbed her clit, her fingers moving in fast circles. "Come inside me. Fill me up."
Diego's vision went white.
He came with a force that left him shaking, his cock pulsing deep inside her. Calista followed a heartbeat later, her body clenching around him, her voice rising in a cry that was part pleasure and part triumph.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then Calista laughed—a breathless, happy sound—and kissed him on the forehead.
"Good," she said. "That was very good."
Diego pulled out slowly, already missing the warmth of her. "We should—"
"Get back to the fight. Yeah." She sat up and began pulling on her pants. "But first—"
She grabbed his shirt and tossed it at him.
"Put that on. You're distracting."
Diego dressed quickly, his cheeks burning. He could hear the sounds of battle still raging around them—gunfire and screams and the crackle of magic—and he couldn't believe they'd just done that in the middle of a firefight.
But he couldn't bring himself to regret it.
Calista stood and adjusted her tactical vest, her glamour settling back into its controlled disguise. She looked at him with those golden eyes, and her smile was soft.
"Thank you," she said. "For saving me."
"You already thanked me."
"I know." She winked. "But I might want to do it again later. If we survive."
Diego opened his mouth to respond, but a scream cut through the chaos.
A very familiar scream.
Amy's voice, coming from the alcove where she and Jason had disappeared.
Diego turned and ran toward the sound, Calista right behind him.