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Mile after mile slides past the tinted windows of the monster vehicle, the interior illuminated by neon and streetlights.
I have plenty of energy, but I’m mentally sapped. Beside me, I feel Marrok’s stare.
How did I fall so hard for a guy who did the horizontal bop with my great-great grandmother? Who mated with me for reasons that have nothing to do with his heart? The sex is fantastic—not gonna lie—but we can’t get along for a whole day. Even if he wasn’t set on dying, how can we possibly last?
A few minutes later, we arrive at the curb and pile out. On my left, Marrok palms a Glock. His free hand hovers over the hilt of a serrated blade strapped to his thigh as he stares watchfully into the night. On my right, Lucan is no less focused, wand at the ready, his entire body tense.
This isn’t a mere precaution. They expect trouble.
In front of me, Bram approaches the door cautiously, his gaze scanning and rescanning the area. He lays his palms over the glass of the door and draws in a deep breath. I open my mouth to ask what the hell he’s doing, but Lucan warns me with a shake of his head.
“It’s undisturbed.” Bram eases the lock on the door, breaks his sister’s enchantments with a quick whisper. Then we are inside.
“Could anyone concentrate like that and get past Sabelle’s protection?”
“No,” Bram assures. “If Sabelle hadn’t told me the specific counterspell, I’d still be scratching my head. She’s a particularly powerful witch.”
The rest of the “mission” is uneventful. I retrieve the emblem in quick silence, the sharp edges and large rubies heavy around my neck.
We file out. Bram secures the door and mutters a few quick words. I can’t discern them, but after he finishes speaking, I absolutely feel the invisible iron bars around the building, preventing me from even getting close. Though this is my place of business, I feel as if I’m trespassing and should move down the walk immediately.
“Neat trick.”
Bram winks. “Next, I’ll bounce a ball on my nose.”
“Will you bark like a seal, too?”
Lucan laughs.
“If anyone can make me, it’s you, gorgeous.” Bram flirts like he was born doing it.
Marrok grips his Glock tighter. “Stop trying to charm my mate. You would dislike seeing me angry when weapons are so close at hand.”
Bram backs away from me. “I’m not in the market to have random holes blasted through my head.”
Grinning despite the grim situation, I pile into the Hummer, and at my urging, we make a quick stop by my flat.
Again, the guys flank me as we enter. But as soon as I open the door to the shadowy apartment, I freeze.
Something is wrong.
As I flip the switch, I second-guess myself. Nothing looks out of place. A stack of mail still sits unopened on the kitchen counter. The remote control is still half-buried between the cushions of my brown cast-off sofa. The plate I used for breakfast the last morning I was home still litters the kitchen counter as if my life here was merely paused.
But the vibe in the flat screams that my space has been violated.
“Does anyone else feel it?” I whisper.
Lucan shrugs. “My magic doesn’t work that way.”
“Mine does,” Bram murmurs. “I feel it, too.”
Marrok hovers without a breath between us as we stride down the hall to my little bedroom, the wizards flanking us. My bed is still unmade. My clean laundry still rests in the basket, waiting to be hung in my postage-stamp closet. The sense that my space has been invaded is stronger here.
“Mathias is working faster than I thought,” Bram mutters.
“Any chance my landlord finally came to fix my leaky sink?”
But I know the answer.
