Renegade

by Nancy Northcott

  For a moment, she was tempted. He and Zara had helped her through the darkest days of her life.

  Then she remembered Dare’s visit and the trust he’d placed in her. If you want to push the call button, I won’t stop you, he’d said. He’d risked his life to see for himself that she was okay. To warn her.

  “Valeria.” Gene gave her an encouraging smile. “Tell me who he is, where to find him.”

  “I’ve told you.” She stood and paced to the window. “I don’t know who or where he is.”

  Gene sighed. “Until you can be more forthcoming, don’t expect much of a welcome around here.”

  “I see.” All or nothing, then. “I think I’ll go out to Gran’s old cottage at Lake Pearson. Do some thinking.”

  Dare had said he would keep an eye out, would come to her if she left the Collegium. If he didn’t show, she’d hunt him down and drag answers out of him. Shire reeve or not, she was still a mage. If there was a traitor in the Collegium, she’d find him—or her.

  “Well.” Sadly, Gene shook his head. “I’ll see you when you return, then. Time and perspective will do you some good.” He walked out of the room.

  Val forced air into her tight chest. He’d been like an uncle since her parents’ deaths, had encouraged and advocated for her. Now he didn’t trust her.

  Feeling sick with worry, she packed a bag, stuffing the CD with Dare’s info on it into a side pocket. She’d given Dare the benefit of the doubt, and that choice was biting her on the ass. His information had better be worth all this trouble.

  Griff knocked on the door of Valeria’s lake cottage. No McMansion for her. Nothing pretentious about the compact, one-story building with weathered wooden siding and a dark green roof.

  Only silence answered his knock, yet her blue Mustang sat in the driveway. She must be around somewhere. He’d scried her yesterday and had seen her here. This was a perfect chance for them to talk.

  Waiting for her to recover, he’d kept busy interrogating ghouls Tasha and Javier caught. But the prisoners had known nothing. Whatever the bastards were planning for the dark of the moon, they’d kept the knowledge tightly restricted. At least there were five less ghouls in the world.

  Now Valeria was out of the infirmary, out of the Collegium. Accessible. Would she trust him now as she’d seemed to the other night? Or had she decided to blame him instead? If so, this could be a trap, but he had to risk it. He’d done what he could in the smart department, setting alert wards on the road in both directions.

  He knocked again. Still no answer. Maybe she’d gone out on the water.

  He walked back down the slope, past his black Dodge Charger and her Mustang. With the lack of rain lately, the water level had dropped, exposing a strip of rocky red clay along the shoreline, wide enough to make a path. He shaded his eyes against the sunset and peered down the shore.

  A woman in brief, blue running shorts and a light blue tank jogged toward him, sunglasses on, tawny ponytail swinging behind a navy blue Georgia Tech Yellow Jackets ball cap. A pale pendant around her neck flashed in the sunlight as her long legs ate ground.

  Her head lifted. Relief and inexplicable joy roared through him, hardening him, an instant before his mind caught up with his eyes.

  Valeria. He took a quick step, then another, before his wits kicked in and stopped him. She didn’t trust him fully, had said she had questions. Besides that, she might regret that kiss the other night. He couldn’t regret it, but he had to admit it’d been irresponsible. Drawing her into any kind of personal involvement would be unwise for both of them. He was not only a fugitive but had potentially dangerous ghoul venom polluting his blood.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets. Hellfire, he was glad to see her healthy.

  Breathing hard, she halted for a long moment before walking slowly toward him. The sunglasses hid her eyes, and she wasn’t close enough for him to get any sense of her feelings through the magic.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  “I’ve been better.”

  Into the awkward silence, he said, “Pretty necklace. Moonstone?”

  “Yes, thanks. Come in, and let’s get out of the sun.”

  As they walked, Val glanced at Dare’s tall frame, now clad in jeans and a weathered, blue chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up above his corded forearms. The cotton sat snugly across his wide shoulders and chest.

  Heat that had nothing to do with exercise bubbled low in her belly. Her blood seemed to sing in her veins, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him. She took a slow breath and let it out.

  He looked tired, as though he’d pushed himself too long on too little sleep. He’d been wounded recently, too.

  He was alive, though, while too many of her deputies were dead.

  His visit to the infirmary, his warning—okay, yes, and his kiss—hadn’t strayed far from her mind in the days between. But she couldn’t afford to trust him blindly.

  She squared her shoulders. “You have to let me probe your mind.”

  His face tightened. “I told you—”

  “Yeah, now I’m telling you, over the bodies of my dead deputies. I believe you about last week’s disaster, but I told you I had questions. I’m wrestling with whether you’re a good guy who was right all along, or someone who made a series of tragic mistakes.” If only she could read his frown, know what he was feeling or thinking. He’d pulled himself in magically, hiding his emotions.

  At last, he gave her a curt nod. “I’ll let you probe, but you’ll stick to my motives, my feelings and intentions. You go farther than that, and I’ll slap you back so hard you won’t see straight for a week.”

  “Fine.” Did he really think she’d just fish around in his head, that she had so little integrity?

  She led him to the covered patio under the porch overhang—bright floral cushions on the wrought-iron loveseat and chair, a matching glass-topped table, screening trellises on the sides for privacy. A restful spot, usually, with a view of the water.

  When she perched on the love seat, he folded his tall frame onto the cushion beside her. His wide shoulders crowded her on the narrow bench. Silently, looking at the lake and not at her, he offered his right hand.

  She clasped it between her two and closed her eyes, then opened her senses to feel the sturdy structure of bones and muscles, the power crackling in his nerve endings. When she touched it, she caught a quick, electric tingle that made her breath hitch. Dimly, she felt his fingers wrap around hers.

  He didn’t try to block her. The path to his mind opened, and she rode that current of power back to it. Summoning the memory of that moment in his loft, before the attack, she homed in on it. Felt the memory take shape.

  Then she was fully in the moment, seeing her battered face through his eyes and feeling the pain of loneliness he tried to deny, the frustration of his inability to find a traitor he believed betrayed the mages. His admiration for her.

  Her heart thudded hard against her ribs. Could he feel her rush of pleasure? Her eyes flew open to meet his dark, uncertain ones.

  “Don’t stop there,” he murmured, and the words echoed in the power linking her mind and his.

  Another memory engulfed her, one he offered. Through his eyes, she saw the Council chamber. Tall, scholarly, graying Alden, the chief councilor, sputtered in outrage over Dare’s accusation of treason. Other councilors shouted at Dare, refusing to listen.

  A hard, dark flash of precog certainty ripped through Dare, the knowledge Alden would escape, that there would be no justice for the dead deputy reeves. Alden blasted green power straight at Dare, who ducked, rolled, and came to his feet blasting silver energy from his staff. Struck in the chest, Alden fell, dead.

  Deputy reeves broke free of their shock to charge Dare, their leader. He mowed his way through them, killing four, and the pain he’d felt, the helplessness, frustration, rage, and grief, all thrummed in her veins as they had in his.

  It was too much. Her mind jerked free of his.


  Both his hands now held hers, and the shadow of that old pain haunted his eyes. It also echoed in her heart.

  Their people had branded him a criminal, put a price on his head, forced him to live on the run, yet he still cleaved to his oath, his vow to protect them. Even when that meant killing the ones who came after him, men and women who had been his aides but also his friends.

  With his pain echoing in her, Val touched his cheek. “Griffin, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to say. You deserve…so much better.”

  Surprise flared in his eyes, and he drew an audible breath. “I never thought I’d live to hear any mage say that to me.”

  A quick flash of insight hit her, of the constant wariness and lack of hope that had dogged him for six years. “Griffin, I…”

  Nothing she could think to say seemed good enough. She gently pressed her lips to his.

  The touch sent a flash of desire through her. Shaken, she pulled back to stare at him. The kiss in the infirmary hadn’t felt so intense.

  He looked as stunned as she felt. Surprise vibrated in the air between them, and then his eyes heated.

  Playing with fire, she thought as his head came down, but she couldn’t resist tipping her face up to meet him. He kissed her, a brush of warm, soft lips. Her breasts tightened.

  Their lips parted, fused, tongues fencing with frantic need as the kiss deepened. She twisted onto her knees to face him fully. When he did the same, his hold tightening, her breasts flattened against his muscular frame, and the hard bulge at his groin pressed into her core.

  He felt so good against her. So right. Needing more, she tightened her grip on his shoulders. Ran her hands down the sculpted planes of his back, his arms.

  He trailed hot, fast, tongue-flicking kisses down her neck. As she quivered with pleasure, he took her mouth in another deep, possessive kiss. His hands cupped her butt, pulling her against his erection.

  Val gasped, felt herself go damp, before another searing, insistent kiss flooded her senses. His hands roamed, molding the curves of her hips and ass, her breasts, stroking pleasure into craving. This was going too fast, rocketing out of control, but she couldn’t bear to stop him. Instead, she kissed his neck, nibbled his jaw, his ear.

  He pressed hard, fast kisses over her face. When he sucked the pulse point under her ear, she moaned as greedy, needy pleasure made her clutch at him. He palmed her breast through the tank top. Her nipple tightened, and desire again flashed through her. She gave a choked cry, arching against him.

  As he kneaded her flesh, she cupped his erection through his jeans. He groaned into her neck. Thrust against her hand.

  When she breathed into his ear, he shuddered. His hold tightened. She nipped his jaw, her lips rasping over the stubble there.

  He dragged his open mouth down her neck. Clutching him for balance, she slid a hand under his shirt to stroke his warm, muscular chest with its soft dusting of hair, and the flat pendant lying over his heart. The washboard divisions of his abs tensed at her touch.

  He made a choked sound, pressing against her, and she clung to him, wanting him. Needing him.

  At the edge of her neckline, he licked the valley between her breasts. Val shivered. She held his head to her, her fingers deep in the thick, inky silk of his hair. He gripped the tank’s hem, pulling it up.

  If she didn’t stop him now, the tide of pleasure and need would overwhelm her.

  “No,” she choked, and she caught his hand. Breathing as hard as he was, she jerked backward. Guilt and longing tore into her. “No. Griffin, we can’t do this.”

  Chapter 8

  Valeria’s pained expression hit Griff in the heart. How the hell had he lost control so fast? The kiss in the infirmary had been sweet, but this one had set him on fire.

  One kiss, one taste, and all he’d been able to think about was more. He was rock hard, aching to have her. Instead, he released Valeria abruptly and stood, stepping away to face the water while he took control of himself. His heart raced, and he gulped in air.

  “Right,” he ground out at last. “The shire reeve can’t fuck a fugitive.” That last word had never tasted so bitter, but he swallowed it. Fact was fact. He knew from past experience what a relationship with him could cost her. He ran a hand over his face. “I apologize, Valeria.”

  “Don’t.” She took a ragged, audible breath. “Please, don’t. I started this.”

  “Maybe, but I kept it going.” He’d also taken it farther.

  His hands still held the feel of her. He jammed them into his pockets. If she knew about the venom in his blood, she wouldn’t want him to touch her. Maybe she had a right to know, but telling her now, when she was on the brink of trusting him, could blow any chance of getting her help.

  “Besides, I’m not reeve right now.” Staring out at the lake, she spoke in a grim, hard voice. She’d fisted both hands on her knees. “I’m suspended, likely done.”

  “What? When did this happen?” He sat beside her, folding his fingers over her tight fist, and tried to settle his breathing, reorient his brain.

  They’re gunning for her, Stefan had said. Why hadn’t he mentioned this little detail?

  She flicked a glance at him and then away. “I can’t be of much use to you now, I’m afraid.”

  “Never mind that. What happened?”

  She shrugged but didn’t look at him. Didn’t take his hand but didn’t move hers, either. “I screwed up. Mages died.”

  “They can’t blame you for that ambush. The Council always wants a scapegoat, but anyone with any tactical sense should realize you walked into a trap.”

  “Thanks for calling it that.” She stared out at the water, and the light caught lines of weariness in her beautiful face. “Most everyone else is calling it my fatal fuckup.”

  “What happened at the debriefing?”

  “There wasn’t one. Most of the survivors were in the infirmary.” Her lips parted, as though she meant to say something else, but she only shook her head.

  With two fingers, he gently turned her chin so she faced him. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Her face stayed calm, but pain lurked in her eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “If it didn’t, you wouldn’t hold back.” Their gazes locked. A faint hint of defiance in her expression put a different cast on things. His breath caught. “Are you…protecting me?”

  “I’m doing my job. What used to be my job anyway.”

  “That’s not an answer.” Had she lost her job because of him? His gut took a sick twist.

  She hesitated. At last, she said, “They think I haven’t been candid about where I got my information.”

  “Because you haven’t.” Confirmation flashed in her eyes. Hellfire. “I never meant to make trouble for you. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

  “Thanks.” Another little shrug. “Looks like I won’t be able to help you clear your name.”

  “Damn it, that doesn’t matter now. You matter.” He waited until she looked at him again. “What you’ve lost because of me matters.”

  Her lips trembled. She pressed them together and, at last, turned her hand over to grip his. The contact warmed his heart as she said, “Thanks for that.”

  He gently brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “I remember finding you in the gym one day when you were a cadet, about seventeen or so, I think. I asked you why you were pushing yourself so hard, if you wanted to be an Olympic athlete. You smiled, but I could tell you were serious when you said you didn’t care about gold medals, that you wanted my job one day.”

  Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, but they softened. “I remember. You told me to keep pushing, and I’d get there.”

  “And you did. You became shire reeve at age twenty-three, two years earlier than anyone else ever has.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Sometimes, you just have to keep pushing until you get where you want to go.” Even when you didn’t see a clear path forward.

  She cocked her head, studying him. “Is
that how you’ve kept going so long?”

  “I’ll see that your name’s cleared, Valeria.” Instead of answering her question, he kissed her knuckles.

  Her fingers tightened on his, and desire slammed through him. Crap. He’d never responded so quickly, so intensely, to any woman.

  Clearly oblivious to her effect on him, Valeria held their joined hands on her smooth, firm thigh. Leaning back against the cushions, she said, “As for what just happened—I can’t have sex with you, Griffin. Even though, obviously, I want to.”

  Her cheeks flushed, but she kept her gaze level on his. “I know now what kind of man you are, but it’s too much, too fast.”

  “Fair enough. Smart, too.” At her inquiring look, he added, “I’m not the best guy to get involved with.”

  At least her hand still gripped his. She’d given him her precious trust, a big risk for her. “I came to help,” he said. “If you’re up for it, let’s go over the battle. Maybe together we can figure out how they fooled you.”

  “Together,” she repeated. A shaky smile curved her mouth, and her eyes warmed. “You know, you’re the first person to offer something constructive.”

  “I live to kick ass and take names.” He grinned at her. Her answering smile lit her face, and he fought the urge to kiss her again. Instead, he said, “Going out for dinner’s too risky, but I could pick up something.”

  “Nothing’s close. I have chicken and veggies we can toss together while we talk. I just need a few minutes to shower and change.”

  He followed her inside, his mind already slotting into strategic mode. Who stood to gain if she left?

  Talking to Griffin was dangerous, Val concluded as they washed the dishes after dinner. He’d focused, listened, and mulled things over while they ate. She could grow to like talking with him far too much.

  “That was a great meal,” he said. “Your idea of tossing something together is more like what I’d call serious cooking. I’m guessing you either like to cook or hate eating takeout.”