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“I’m fine. Are you?” asked Celene.
Indigo jumped into Roark’s arms, hooking her legs around his hips, taking his neck in a stranglehold. “My hero.”
He folded his Indy in a tight embrace. “Don’t forget it.” He crushed her lips with a kiss, nothing gentle since her body was rubbing against his swollen erection, the gift-that-kept-on-giving thanks to the carnal demon.
When her core met his impressive need, her brows lifted in surprise. “That’s perverted, kinda-shifter. You get off on fighting?”
“Sometimes. But this woody’s thanks to the dead guy.”
A peevish Oskar, no longer the center of attention, snorted flames out his nose.
Indy patted Roark’s arm. “Put me down. I have an ego to stroke. I’ll take care of yours later.”
She sidled up to the gryphon, petting his gigantic thigh. “You’re my hero, too, Oskar.”
His head bobbed before it settled on her shoulder. She scratched behind his ear, a rough purr vibrating his throat. “Go on. We’ll visit soon.” Her pet gryphon disappeared.
With Oskar on his way home or wherever he hung out until called, Roark pointed at his headless attacker along with the scattered pieces of the other demon. “Indy?”
She flicked a wrist, incinerating the remains.
Celene cleared her throat, slipping out of Nace’s arms to stand on her own. “Nice trick. Now take this.” She pushed the sword into Indigo’s arms.
Roark’s gaze fixed on hers as he held out a hand. “Trust me, Indy.”
“I promised Kole I’d give it to him.” She hesitated.
“I swear to you it will go where it belongs.” He sucked in a breath, wanting her faith more than he wanted the sword. “Trust me.”
She bit her lower lip, passing the weapon to Roark. “Don’t let me down, kinda-shifter.”
“I’ll do the right thing.” His lips brushed across her cheek, a pledge, an oath.
He fisted the hilt, swinging the blade through the air. Once. Twice. It was a warrior’s blade. Whetted in battle. Polished by death. It was long. Heavy. The edge dulled by time. But the weight was perfect. The balance extraordinary. The beauty underneath the muck unmistakable. It was Blood’s Kiss.
The quest was ended.
But Roark’s desire for Indigo, the finder of lost objects, had no end. He realized this tidbit of news while he watched her lips tilt, spreading into a wide smile.
She fiddled in her pocket to dig out the ruby. When she sashayed toward him, every sway of her hips was an invitation. Boot to boot, her head barely reaching his chest, she fitted the stone into its space on the grip.
“Perfect,” she said. “It’s home.”
“I agree. Extraordinary.” Roark wasn’t talking about the ancient blade, though. He stared into Indigo’s laughing violet eyes, rain streaming down her cheeks, streaks of dirt on her face, and wild twists of hair escaping her sodden braid.
He had found his home in this incredible witch, the female he would fight against all odds to possess. He was through wondering about their relationship. He was chin-deep in one. Like quicksand, it had sucked him under. And, unexpected as it was, he was happy to drown in her arms.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Colonel Mateo Garcia leaned across Bounty’s desk, his knuckles brushing over her rosy, warm cheek. Even though she could bench press him without breaking a sweat, beneath his fingers she was soft, feminine, his to protect. And he would. That’s how he was built.
“You’re interrupting my morning manicure, human,” said Bounty.
“But you love me. Admit it.”
She rotated the nail polish on her desk so the label faced him. “Hmm. More than Screw Me Pink?”
“More than.”
