“Gwen,” he whispered, his gaze dropping to my mouth.
Like a mind reader, he lowered his head, his lips brushing over mine in a feathery kiss. I sighed, and my reaction spurred a growl from deep in his throat. His lips crashed over mine, suddenly demanding and desperate. I threw off the blanket and wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him as close as I could and willing this moment not to end.
His hard chest pressed against my own, his breath washing over me and doing more to warm me than any blanket so far. But it wasn’t enough. I needed to be closer. After all this time, the reality was so much better than I ever imagined.
I grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back, climbing onto his lap with my knees digging into the seat belt holster and the armrest along the door. Rhys held my hips tightly, helping me adjust as I settled on top of him. His mouth never left mine, and when I lowered my center to his, he pressed against me, his tongue shoving against mine until I moaned softly.
I felt Rhys harden against his jeans.
My hands tangled in his hair, pulling and pleading for more.
He kissed me like we were drowning, but it was the opposite. This was the first moment I’d felt like breathing in three years.
“Wait.”
I tried not to feel a pang of disappointment and fear when Rhys eased back. He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head, and I braced myself for the rejection that was about to come. But when he opened his eyes, a smile tugged at his lips. “You are ridiculously sexy, you know that?”
“I . . .” I blinked.
“We need to get you somewhere safe before we can . . . finish this. But we will finish this. I just . . . Protecting you comes first, okay?”
“Okay,” I said shakily.
He held onto me as I slid back to my seat, tugging me close again when I ventured too far. I waited while he readjusted the blanket, tucking it in around my legs—and then adjusted himself. When he looked up, I sent him a small smile of my own at my handiwork. He responded by planting a quick kiss on my mouth before straightening and backing us out of the empty lot.
Neither of us spoke on the ride back to town, but Rhys held my hand tightly the entire way. I was sure I’d have more to say when I was warm and coherent again. For now, the silence felt nice. Rhys’s hand in mine felt even better. Right here, I was completely safe. I just hoped it would last.
Chapter 10
By the time we arrived at Rhys’s apartment, I was ready to burst with questions. Between making out with Rhys and the truck’s heat, the cold had been chased away, and the fog had lifted. My thoughts were clear—and overwhelming. I had too many questions to know where to begin. And the grief of seeing Fred and Betsy like that . . . I tried not to blame myself, but it was hard. The biggest question, though, was Walter.
The Dirty Knuckle was empty and dark when we pulled around back. Rhys showed me inside and up the back stairs, unlocking the door and then stepping back to let me go first. I walked cautiously. My eyesight was sharp enough to keep me from running into things, but my slow steps had nothing to do with that. This was Rhys Graywalk’s private space. And I was standing here with the scent of his body still on my skin. It was a lot—even with the whole nearly dying thing, it was a lot.
My heart thudded extra hard as I stood in the center of the living room and waited while Rhys went around turning on lights. He disappeared around a corner, and I heard cabinet doors and then a fridge. A moment later, he returned with two dark bottles already opened.
“Drink this,” he said. “It’ll calm your nerves while we talk.”
I took the beer gratefully and sipped, mostly to keep from having to talk. I didn’t know what to say about the apartment. It was all dark wood and leather, like his office. But it was lived in. A sweatshirt thrown over the arm of the couch. A newspaper and stack of magazines spread over the coffee table. Dirty socks by the door. It was so personal. I didn’t want to admit how many times I’d ached for him to bring me here over the past few years.
So I drank until the moment passed.
Rhys downed half his beer and then set it aside. He strode to a rolltop desk in the corner of the room, slid it open, and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. He returned to where I stood and tugged me down on the couch beside him.
“Okay,” he said, the pen poised and ready, “tell me what else you know about this Walter guy.”
“First tell me what happened after I left the house.” Fred and Betsy’s. That’s what I would have normally said. But saying their name now . . . I couldn’t.
Rhys frowned, but nodded. “It was a setup, that’s for damned sure. Deputy Conall said he got an anonymous call to come check out a disturbance, but no one else even lives close enough to be disturbed, even with the racket that beast made. So that doesn’t add up. And the blood in the kitchen—that was a message.”
“You think whoever unleashed the hellhound was the same person that killed Aelwyn?”
Rhys nodded. “I do. And I think they wanted us to know that, too. I didn’t have much time to look over the bodies before Conall chased me off, but I think whoever left that blood in the kitchen did it before the hellhound got there. And the energy signature was the same as the one at Aelwyn’s that night.”
“Ethan didn’t sense anyone else out there with us,” I agreed. “So they must have already left when we got there.”
“Ethan?” Rhys blinked.
“My hawk.”
Rhys stared at me, brows raised. “You named him Ethan?”
“Yeah.”
“Ethan Hawk?” He laughed out loud, and my lips curved at my own private joke. Aelwyn had been the only other person who knew, so I’d almost forgotten the humor of it.
“It was Aelwyn’s idea,” I admitted.
He smiled warmly. “Sounds like her.”
My smile vanished too quickly as I remembered what we were doing here in the first place. “Do you think . . . I mean, whoever killed her is messing with me now. Do you think they killed her to get to me?”
Rhys took a deep breath. “Honest truth? I do. And I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I managed to wipe out your footprints in the kitchen, so they failed tonight.”
“Failed?” I felt the blood drain from my face. “Fred and Betsy are dead because of me. Because of my tattoo. That’s not a fail, that’s—”
“I know. Bad word choice. I’m sorry. Gwen, how do you know Walter couldn’t have activated his tattoo?”
“Because I check up on him. On all of the ones who have magic in their ink. After last time, I realized I had a responsibility.”
“Last time wasn’t your fault.”
“That couple would still be alive if it weren’t for me.”
“Gwen, that asshole was going to hurt his wife with or without your help. The tattoo was a heart, for goodness’ sake. There was no way you could have known he’d find a way to twist that into violence.”
“You’re right. He could have done something different, but he didn’t. And then his death—”
“Was his own damned fault. He should have come out and surrendered when the police told him to. Instead, he ignored their warnings and shut himself in that house. If not for him, she could have gotten medical attention in time. He let her die and then let himself get shot when they stormed the house. None of that is on you.”
His voice was firm and almost angry now. Aelwyn used to talk to me about it the same way. They wanted to assure me. But my own guilt was so much bigger than their ability to convince me I wasn’t to blame.
“I know that,” I said, but we both knew I didn’t. Not really.
Rhys sighed. Finally, he spoke again, changing the subject. “So you know for a fact Walter couldn’t have activated that hound.”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.”
“What?” I studied his face as a shadow passed over his features.
“That means someone else knows about your gift and how to activate the magic. Is that possible to do on someone else
’s ink?”
“I’ve never tried, so I’m not sure. What are you thinking?”
“I just . . . Conall showing up tonight was weird. I want to check on that anonymous call. Verify it really happened.”
“You think Deputy Conall is the one doing this?”
“I don’t know. But he seems all too eager to point fingers at you for Aelwyn. Besides, we don’t exactly have a long list of possible suspects.”
I hesitated and then said, “Well, there’s one.”
“Who?”
“Ada.”
“Ada Daryn?” His eyes narrowed. “What makes you think she would do this?”
“She’s been blackmailing me into giving enchanted tattoos,” I admitted.
“Gwen, what the . . . Why didn’t you say anything?”
He didn’t sound nearly as surprised as I’d expected. I cocked my head. “Something tells me there’s not much to tell.”
His mouth tightened, and he set the pen and paper aside. “I’ve seen her coming and going from your place.”
“You’ve seen her?” I repeated, my eyes widening. “Have you been watching me?”
“I’m your Protector, Gwen. I have to keep an eye. But since . . . I’ve kept my distance for a while now. I knew you didn’t want me to come around, so I stayed out of sight. But I had a job to do, and I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you just because we weren’t—” He broke off, and my temper flared.
“Because we weren’t speaking,” I finished for him. “You mean because you rejected me?”
He winced. “Don’t say it like that.”
“How else should I say it? That’s what happened, Rhys.” I waited for the hot fury that usually rose when I thought about his rejection. But this time, all I felt was sadness. His apologies were getting to me, and I could feel myself edging closer to giving in to his pretty words. But the fear of being hurt twice hadn’t gone away entirely.
“Gwen.” Rhys grabbed my hand and squeezed. I turned to meet his eyes, and my stomach flipped just like it always did when his gaze turned so intense. “I hate that I did that to you. I never should have let it go this long. But the oath—”
“I know,” I said. “You already explained. I just . . . it’s a lot to let go of.” Too much, maybe. But I didn’t say that.
He nodded and then pressed a kiss to my lips. His mouth was warm, a solid comfort after everything that had happened tonight. I kissed him back lightly, expecting him to stop it just like he had in the truck. And I couldn’t blame him. We did have a killer to catch. Besides that, I wasn’t sure what this was yet. I’d wanted it for so long, but now that I had it, I had no idea how to process it against the years of thinking he didn’t want me.
But he slid closer, reaching for me and pulling me swiftly into his lap, his tongue exploring my mouth and leaving my skin prickling where his fingers trailed.
“Rhys . . .” I whispered against his mouth.
He responded by pulling me closer, his hands roaming everywhere before slipping underneath my shirt. I panted against him, arching into his palm as he cupped my breast.
Outside, a hawk called sharply, and we both went still.
My shoulders sagged as Rhys eased me away. He rose and went to the window. I followed reluctantly, adjusting my shirt and bra and then running a hand through my hair, which was probably already a nightmare.
“Is he okay?” Rhys asked, throwing the window open and peering out into the night sky.
“He’s fine,” I said wryly, bracing myself against the gust of cold air that blew in. “Just letting us know it’s all clear.”
Rhys turned back to me, his confusion melting into amusement. “He can sense us . . .? I mean, he knew we were . . .”
“He’s my familiar. I see through his eyes, and sometimes he sees through mine.”
“I see.” Rhys smiled mischievously. “No pun intended.”
“Funny.”
“You should call him back before the sun comes up,” Rhys said, and I nodded, knowing he was right, but wishing Ethan had kept his mouth shut for a while longer. I still wasn’t entirely ready to trust Rhys, but I couldn’t deny how badly I wanted to try.
“And when the sun does come up?” I asked, already sticking my arm out the window to call Ethan back to me.
“We’ll pay a visit to a friend at the Court,” he said. “See what we can uncover about Ada. And the deputy. And figure out where to look next.” He turned and began building a fire in the cold hearth near the couch.
I called Ethan back to me and then sank onto the soft couch as the fire crackled to life. We sat in silence for a few minutes, finishing our beers. When mine was empty, I leaned my head back against the soft leather. Between the warmth of the flames and the crackle of the wood, I couldn’t keep my eyes open.
Soon, I drifted.
I woke to the jostle of being lifted by a pair of strong arms. When I opened my eyes and saw Rhys staring down at me in the firelight, I protested against his firm grip. “I can walk,” I insisted.
“You looked so peaceful. And tired,” he said quietly. The firelight danced strangely over his features. “Let me carry you.”
Struck by the hard planes and strong lines, I looked away and let him carry me to the spare room without further argument. He tucked me into bed with gentle hands that contradicted his sharp edges, and didn’t help the pitter-patter of my traitor heart. When he was gone, I tried not to register the disappointment that he hadn’t carried me to his bed instead.
I woke to the smell of coffee and the sense that I wasn’t alone. When I rolled over, my breath caught, and I gasped. Rhys jumped back, nearly spilling the coffee he’d just set on the nightstand. I blew out a breath, clutching my chest and willing my pulse to steady as I sat up. “Shit. You scared me.”
“Sorry. I wanted to offer caffeine before I started overloading you with information.”
“What time is it?” I asked, inching toward the steaming mug and trying to blink the rest of the exhaustion away.
“Almost ten.”
“In the morning?” I squawked.
Rhys winced. “My contact called me back a few minutes ago, and I think we should meet with a couple of people today. I didn’t want to wait too long to get moving.”
“Why? Who? What did he say?” I grabbed the mug and took a sip, mostly so I could comprehend whatever details he was about to give.
Rhys hesitated. “Take another sip of coffee first.”
“Rhys,” I warned, irritable and wary. “Tell me.”
He didn’t respond, and finally I took a large gulp of coffee. Then I raised my brows. “Now tell me,” I said.
“They found Walter’s body this morning.”
“What?” It was the last thing I’d expected, and for that reason, it confused me more than upset me. For about five seconds. Then my eyes stung with tears that I blinked back. In an effort to hold it together, I gulped more coffee. “How did he die?”
“Natural causes. That’s the official finding so far. But . . .”
“We both know it wasn’t natural. Not with the hellhound getting loose.”
Rhys’ brow furrowed. “Is it possible his tattoo could have activated when he died?”
“No. The magic only lives as long as the wearer.”
He let out a breath, but he didn’t look relieved.
“What?” I asked.
“Remember the call Deputy Conall claimed to get about the disturbance last night?” I nodded. “My contact says Walter was the anonymous caller.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Walter let his hellhound loose and aimed it at innocent people he likely didn’t even know, and then he called the police?”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Rhys agreed, his gaze far away as he stared at the curtains covering the sunlit window. Finally, he blinked and looked at me, focusing on my body for what felt like the first time since he’d come in.
Suddenly, I remembered I’d taken off everything but my black tank top and pa
nties last night. My exposed skin tingled where his gaze touched.
“I should get dressed,” I said hastily, reaching for the sheet, coffee still clutched in one hand, but Rhys stopped me. Carefully, he took the mug out of my hand and set it on the nightstand. Then he scooted closer until we were almost nose to nose. His eyes blazed with a hunger that I’d only ever experienced in my own body. Desire—no, need—reflected back at me.
Slowly, he reached for me, his hand cupped tightly against the back of my neck, his thumb stroking my jawline. He held me there, his expression daring me to object.
“If you think for one second that I’m done with you,” he said, and then rather than finish that statement with words, he kissed me.
The second his mouth met mine, heat exploded inside me. His kiss wasn’t gentle or soft or anything resembling asking my permission—not like it had been last night in the truck. Instead, he took, his mouth hot and heavy, his hands demanding as they explored. And damn if I didn’t let him.
Screw enchanted tattoos—this right here was the real magic.
His hands roamed my body, down my arms and then over my hips, all while pressing into me with his mouth and his erection. My skin thrummed where his fingers touched—my collarbone, my throat, tangling in my hair. He leaned against me, easing us both down so that I was on my back against the bed and Rhys was pressed against me in all the right places. My blood heated, and I rocked my hips against his, lost in the feel of him. Of knowing he wanted me. Finally.
My left hip tingled extra hard, but I ignored it, too caught up in the moment to do anything but appreciate my body’s reaction.
When his tongue darted inside my mouth and tangled with my own, I clutched at his shirt, fisting my hands in the fabric in desperation. His hand dropped from my hair long enough to hook behind my knee, drawing my leg up and wrapping it around his waist. He rocked into me, and I lost it, my head falling back against the pillow as Rhys pressed a trail of hot kisses down my throat before nipping at my ear. His fingers found the edge of my panties, and my insides sizzled in anticipation as his hand slipped inside the thin fabric, inching toward my center.
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