by R. J. Blain
“It was,” she agreed, sliding down onto my lap to nibble on my ear. “Mine.”
“I seem to recall agreeing to something of that nature,” I replied, leaning my head back and closing my eyes.
“You needed to hear it again.”
I couldn’t argue with her on that score. Certain I would never tire of her staking her claim, I accepted defeat with a murmur of agreement.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, snuggling close to me.
“I’ve been better.”
She rested her chin on my shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I felt like I was standing on the edge of a precipice. With a single misstep, I’d fall, likely ending up at the bottom of a ravine as a smear on the ground. With Suzanne, I never would have considered talking about it. I hadn’t wanted to burden her.
Then again, Suzanne hadn’t been one to ask me such a question, and that made all of the difference in the world to me.
Evelyn wanted to know, and for that reason alone, I replied, “Want to? No. Should I? Probably.”
“I’m listening.”
It took me several long minutes to work up the courage to fetch the laptop, open it up, and show Evelyn my daughter’s birth certificate. For the second time in my life, I told someone the truth about my witchcraft, sharing with her how I carried the names of the dead with me, and what I had learned of Suzanne’s betrayal.
I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that I remembered what it felt like to die.
Chapter Twelve
I wasn’t sure what to expect from Evelyn, but her slow burning rage wasn’t it.
The way she paced with her jade eyes glinting with gold was an echo of my turbulent feelings, which I contained behind a stoic mask. While she prowled the stateroom, I sat still and quiet, wondering what I would do next. I knew what I wanted, but revenge wasn’t something I’d actively pursued before.
Before I could do anything, I needed to find out who was responsible for my little girl’s death.
“Someone murdered your baby girl,” Evelyn snarled, whirling to face me. Her knuckles turned white as she clenched her hands into fists. “When I find them…”
The promise of violence in Evelyn’s voice drew a wince out of me. If the Fenerec got a hold of Jacqueline’s killer, I doubted there would be much left of them. I wanted to help, which didn’t make matters easier on me.
“I have to find them first,” I replied, careful to keep my voice quiet and my tone even. With Evelyn’s temper volatile enough for the both of us, the last thing I needed was to set her off even more.
Narrowing her eyes, she regarded me as she did the rabbits on television, calculating my every move. “You?”
“Me,” I confirmed, meeting her gaze. “They were after me. That woman had the stone, and it seems obvious to me that she wanted me alive. I need to know what she was doing with that stone and how Suzanne was involved.”
Evelyn slid her way over the arm of the couch onto my lap, prodding my collarbone with a finger. “And that’s the exact reason I will find out the truth. They want you, not me. They aren’t touching you. Never again, Jackson. Never,” she hissed, grabbing hold of my shirt. Her face reddened, and she stared at me in defiance, tense as she waited for me to reply.
I took hold of her hands, prying her off of my shirt. Pulling her close, I rested my cheek against her hair, drawing a deep breath so I could savor her cinnamon scent. “I have no intention of letting them try that again,” I promised. “Once was enough.”
She sighed, leaning against me. “Richard wants to fly us to Yellowknife.”
I grinned a little at the complaint in her tone. “That is where he lives. He’s a good pilot, so don’t worry.”
“I don’t fly.”
“Well, I’d certainly hope not. I like you just as you are. Wings would make certain things more difficult,” I replied, proving my point by running my hand through her hair and trailing a finger down her spine. She squirmed, giggling as I stroked her sides.
“Stop that,” she protested. Instead of obeying, I worked my hand under her shirt, running my fingertips in circles along her lower back and ribs. She squealed, batting at my arms. Her back arched as I found a particularly ticklish spot on her side. “Jackson!” she shrieked, scrambling across the couch in her effort to escape.
“See? It’d be much more difficult to do that if you had wings, so I’m very appreciative that you don’t fly.”
“I’ve never been on a plane before.”
“Really?”
She settled at the other end of the couch, hugging her legs.
“Well, I’m a pilot as well. Between Richard and I, you’ll be safe. Is it because Vicky will be with us?”
Evelyn shook her head. “No, she knows you belong to me.”
Unable to resist the urge, I reached over and stroked my finger along the bottom of her foot. She squealed again, falling off the couch in her haste to escape. Laughing, I leaned over to peer down at her. “I’m pretty sure you belong to me,” I replied.
Evelyn pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m the hunter. You’re the prey.”
“A rabbit with powerful legs can escape even the most tenacious wolf,” I countered, smirking at her.
“Rabbits,” she hissed.
Reaching down, I took hold of her hand and nipped one of her fingers. “This rabbit has teeth.”
“I bite harder.”
I laughed. “You also cheat.”
“I do.” Shuffling across the carpet, she leaned against the couch next to me. “I’m still angry.”
Leaning over, I ran my fingers through her hair, loving the way the smooth, soft tresses flowed through my hands. “Why?”
“I saw the video.”
“This is when the rabbit makes a run for it,” I muttered, wondering if I could escape her before she got a hold of me. I doubted it, so I surrendered with a sigh. “That was not one of my better moments.”
“No, no it was not. You didn’t even fight her.”
“I don’t like hitting women,” I reminded her, despite knowing it was probably one of the worst things I could say in my defense.
“She could have killed you.” Evelyn leaned against me, resting her head against my knee. “I’m so mad.”
“Then it is a very good thing you hit her enough for the both of us. Thank you for that, by the way. She wasn’t a very nice lady.”
“I still think you should have hit her.”
“Give me a little credit, Evelyn,” I begged. While I couldn’t bring myself to say it, I had taken some offense with the woman, though I hadn’t liked doing it.
Evelyn scowled. “Very well. You get a passing grade for your clever use of hand sanitizer.”
“How about this: I’ll leave the hitting of women to you if you leave the hitting of men to me.”
Twisting around, Evelyn crawled her way up onto my lap, poking my nose with a finger. “That’s so sexist.”
I widened my eyes in my effort to feign innocence. “Women make up approximately half of the population. It’s an equal distribution of labor.”
Laughing, Evelyn flicked my ear. I ducked my head to the side, sucking in a breath as she took advantage of the opportunity to nip my neck. “It’s a sexist distribution of labor,” she murmured.
“Would you rather me hit on women instead?” I teased.
My comment earned me a harder bite, which sent a shiver running through me. “Absolutely not!”
I wrapped my arms around her. “Then it’s settled. I’ll hit the men, you’ll hit the women.”
“But what if I want to hit a man?” she complained in a whine.
Faking a sigh, I made a show of considering her question. “I suppose it would depend on why you’re hitting him,” I conceded.
“If he hurts you, I’m hitting him.”
I laughed. “I could always hit him myself.”
“That isn’t as satisfying.”
“Come on, Evelyn. I vi
ew it as a chance to give my fellow man a chance to preserve his pride. You, of course, would win without question.”
She snuggled against me, trailing her fingers down my throat.
“Stop that,” I murmured, squirming in pleasure at her gentle touch.
She didn’t listen, chuckling softly as she worked her way down to my shoulder. “Why don’t I hit them all? I’d be content with that. I’m a Fenerec. I’m more durable than you, my delicate witch.”
I closed my eyes, savoring the feel of her hands. “You may be more durable, but you’re also far prettier. I wouldn’t want so much as a single scratch on you,” I replied, my voice husky from my growing desire.
“I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to say something about flattery getting you nowhere right now,” she countered.
“I can’t help it you’re beautiful,” I complained.
She traced the healing bruises around my throat. “You’ve been hurt enough as it is.”
“Well, I believe there’s a simple solution to that problem. We haven’t done nearly enough scientific testing on the theory of your kisses and their curative powers.” I pulled her close, once again slipping my hands beneath her shirt. “If you absolutely must hit men, I suppose I can’t stop you. That said, please be considerate of yourself. I don’t want you to be hurt either. I have it on good authority that being hurt is painful and entirely inconvenient.”
She made a contented noise. “I’ll hit them so hard they’re incapable of hitting me back.”
“I can live with this arrangement. I will also hope I never give you a reason to hit me,” I said, laughing at the thought of her cleaning my clock. If she did, I’d deserve it.
“Hit you, no. Hit on you, as often as possible,” she replied.
“Prove it,” I demanded.
She did.
~~*~~
I managed to delay heading to the cargo bay until after dinner, which was when Evelyn decided she had enough of my anxiety.
“We’re going,” she stated, holding out my jacket.
I looked up from my laptop, sighed, and closed the lid. “I could think of something better we could do.”
“I’m sure you could.” Shaking the jacket at me, she tapped her foot. “Maybe after, if you’re good.”
“How about before and after?”
Laughing, she threw the jacket at me. It landed on my head. “No. Put your jacket on. Don’t forget your tie.”
After shrugging my way into my jacket, I went on a hunt for a tie that wasn’t wrinkled. “I need more ties,” I complained, tossing aside several that had fallen victim to Evelyn’s enthusiasm in one way or another.
“We only used a few of them,” she countered, smirking at me. “Try the bag. There’s also a scarf that should match your suit in there.”
Grumbling at the thought of wearing a scarf to hide the bruises circling my throat, I dug through the bag, finding a red and silver striped tie and a dark red scarf to go with it. As I finished dressing, Evelyn prowled around the stateroom, tidying the rooms.
“I don’t know why this is bothering you so much,” she admitted, hanging up one of my other jackets in the closet. “There won’t be any problems.”
While she had accepted my witchcraft with a smile, I hadn’t worked up enough courage to talk about Scarlett’s death, which I still remembered despite the interference of the ghosts. They couldn’t strip away the memories from me, although they numbed me—mostly. The spot of warmth in my chest served as a constant reminder of what I had lost.
Until I found out why Scarlett had been carrying the stone entrapping my little girl’s soul, I’d hold tight to the woman’s final moments. With time, Scarlett and Jacqueline would inevitably slip through my fingers, but I wouldn’t let them go easily.
“Jackson?” Evelyn touched my cheek, drawing me out of my thoughts.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Woolgathering.”
“What’s in the cargo bay that’s worrying you? Is it because of your witchcraft?”
“Elliot’s going to want to know the names of the dead,” I replied, wrinkling my nose.
Batting my hands away, Evelyn adjusted my tie to her liking before going to work on the scarf. “Does learning their names hurt you?”
I sighed. “It’s a bit complicated.”
“So explain it to me.”
Even before experiencing Scarlett’s death, learning the names of the dead was uncomfortable. It took years to forget the names I learned, and each time, I felt like flinching away in case I learned more than I wanted to know. I was afraid of enduring their deaths. “It can hurt,” I admitted, not certain how I could begin to explain the shock, the anguish, and the absolute finality of death.
“I’ll be with you.”
I smiled at her, wishing she could somehow protect me from my inconvenient and unwanted witchcraft. “You can keep me from cracking my head open, in the worst-case scenario.”
Her eyes widened. “You will not faint. That’s an order.”
Laughing at the absurdity of her impossible demand, I kissed her forehead. “I’ll try not to.”
“It happens? You really can faint because of it? Because of your witchcraft?”
“You saw it happen,” I reminded her. It had happened twice, but I wasn’t going to tell her I had witnessed her killing Scarlett.
“You mean because of that stone,” she grumbled.
“Yes.”
“Is there anything at all I can do to help?” She gave the scarf a final tug before smoothing my jacket over my shoulders.
“If I end up on the floor, just throw water on me until I get up,” I replied, considering what other little things she might be able to accomplish if I ended up as a heap on the ground. “Don’t let the security detail freak out too much. There aren’t many who know I’m not just a two-bit gemstone sensor.”
“You’ll never be a two-bit anything.”
“If you keep talking like that, we’ll never make it out of the room,” I informed her, stealing her habit of biting to nip at her neck. She made a sound that reminded me of a purring cat, which encouraged me to take another nibble.
I couldn’t imagine ever tiring of her, and the realization warmed me.
“So, all I have to do to get into your bed is compliment you?” With a throaty chuckle, she flicked my nose. “I’ll keep that in mind. Keep your clothes on, Jackson. Brandon’s been patient enough. You’ll survive until later, I assure you.”
I pouted at her. “It’s your fault, you know.”
“It must be so difficult being a man,” she replied with a dramatic sigh, pointing at the door. “March.”
Slipping my arms around her, I pulled her close and shifted my nips to her ear. “What if I don’t want to?”
“You poor deprived man. You’ll live, I promise. March, Jackson. That is, if you want to make it back to our room sometime tonight…”
“I still think we need to do more testing to find out how effective your kisses are at curing bruising.”
“Your bruises are mostly gone. You’re not using your sexual appeal to get out of going to the cargo bay.” She wiggled her way out of my grip, took hold of my hand, and pulled me towards the door.
“Says the woman who views her clothing as optional,” I complained, letting her drag me along in her wake.
“Only for you,” she teased, swaying her hips.
“That’s not making me want to leave, Evelyn.”
“I’m a terrible tease, I know. Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you later.”
“Promise?”
She pulled me to her, patting my cheek lightly. “You’re a rabbit. We’re going.”
“Okay, okay. We’re going.”
Our departure was delayed by my security detail, who shared my reservations about the cargo bay. While Evelyn grumbled at the wasted time, Derek didn’t relent. After a few phone calls, Alex joined us outside of my stateroom.
“Paranoid,” the Canadian Fenerec muttered.
&nb
sp; “Can you blame us, sir?” Derek asked, his expression as neutral as his tone.
“Two Fenerec is overkill, don’t you think?” Alex leaned against the wall beside me, shoving his hands into his pockets. “If anyone looks at him wrong, I promise you that his mate will rip them to pieces. He’s probably the safest person on board.”
“I was more thinking that you could stop her, sir. If anyone does try for him, I’d like them alive for questioning.” Derek’s smile was bloodthirsty. “We all have a few answers we’d like to peel out of them.”
I had a feeling that Derek was being literal, which sent a shiver running through me.
Evelyn growled. “I’ll question them for you.”
“Ah, the overprotective zeal of the newly mated. Don’t worry, Jackson. She’ll settle down in a few days.” Alex jabbed me with his elbow.
“I like her just as she is,” I replied, glowering at the Fenerec, shoving him back.
“Don’t even think about it, boys,” Evelyn warned. Alex stared at Evelyn with wide eyes, and I joined the Fenerec, kicking the side of his foot. He retaliated with another elbow jab.
There was something nice about having my desire to protect Evelyn echoed by her. There was something also very nice about teasing her, watching her eyes narrow and glint as I tested the boundaries of her patience. Maybe other men felt threatened, but I didn’t mind. I’d still strive to keep her safe. While I did so, I was confident that she would be doing the same.
Suzanne never had.
Determined not to let my dead wife’s memory sour my mood, I answered Alex’s jab by snaking my arm around his neck and pulling him down in a hold, grinding my knuckles into the top of his head. “I’m not thinking about it, are you?”
With a grunt, Alex ducked out of my grip, taking hold of my wrist and twisting my arm behind my back. “Thinking about it? No, not at all. I’m doing it,” he replied. “You’re hopeless.”
“As are you,” Richard said directly behind me.
The noise I made was something between a yelp and a squeak. Forgetting Alex had my wrist, I went to whirl around. His hold on me and my knee conspired against me. Before I could lose my balance completely, Alex grabbed me under the arms and shoved me aside.