“You weren’t supposed to return,” he muttered, louder this time.
But, of course, she didn’t hear him. She was already moving again, stepping around a weathered stone angel, pausing to read an inscription, then winding her camera one careful click while the early morning mist curled up around her like she belonged there. Like the cemetery itself bent to her will. Like she were half alive, half ghost, and all temptation.
Alaric exhaled slowly as the memory punched through.
*
Metropolitan Police Station, Whitehall Place
Six hours earlier…
“You’re a goddamn idiot.” Chief Inspector Castlebury slammed the office door hard enough to rattle the windows.
Alaric opened his mouth. Closed it again. Because yes. Correct.
Also,deeply unhelpful.
Castlebury planted his hands on his desk, pale-green eyes blazing under bronze-flecked brows. “You think I don’t know what this is? You think I didn’t recognize the expression on your face? That tight-jawed, blue-balled look of doom that only meansone thing?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alaric lied poorly.
“Oh, don’t change the subject, boy,” Castlebury snapped. “You’re not special. You’re justnext.And I’m telling you now, if she breaks the law again, I won’t stop it. Ican’tstop it. She does it again, she’s arrested.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “But off the record?” he added with a faint glimmer of understanding. “Marry her. For the love of God, marry her fast. That kind of chaos only gets worse if you let it wander.”
*
Back in Highgate Cemetery
The present…
Alaric blinked hard, dragging himself back into the moment.
Thea was now perched on top of a crumbling mound of stone and moss, knees tucked under her chin, aiming her camera into a broken iron gate like she was photographing art, not a potential crime scene.
She was smiling. Early morning light caught on her cheek. She had thegallto look radiant.
Alaric stalked forward, every muscle in his body screaming conflict. “Miss Blackwood,” he said darkly.
She looked up, eyes wide, mouth parted. Like she didn’t know. Like last night had been a dream and they weren’tengaged. Like she hadn’t been arrested by a local Highgate constable and brought to Metro Station mere hours ago.
“Inspector!” she said brightly. “What a coincidence to see you here so soon! Did you come to look at the crypt too? I think it might’ve been used in an old Rooke Revivalist burial. Look at that iron—”
He stopped in front of her. Stared. Let the silence stretch just long enough to be dangerous. Then, slow as molasses, he reached into his coat pocket and held up the handcuffs.
Her eyes dropped to them, then flicked back to his face. Then, maddeningly, to his mouth. “Oh.”
Chapter Four
She should notbe this turned on by a pair of handcuffs. Truly.
Bad sign.
Bad decision.
But gods, the look in his eyes? It was low. Dark.Decided.Like he was one breath away from kissing her or arresting her—or both, in that order, and maybe not even with a pause in between.
“I’m here on business,” he growled, voice rough enough to sand wood. “You were warned, Thea. For fuck’s sake, you’ve been warned so many times.”
“I’m doing research.”
