Asher caught my gaze, his own just as fiery as it had been before I zapped him. Flashing me a bloody grin, he said, “Nowwe’re getting somewhere, Cupcake.”
“Don’t talk, asshole,” Ronan snapped. Turning back to me, he took my face in his hands and said, “I’ve got some shit to do for Waldrich tonight and tomorrow, so I’ll take Asher back to the Bay, give you some space. You good here with Darius and Emilio?”
I hated to see Ronan leave again, but he was right; I needed the space. As much as Asher might’ve deserved it—and as much as he’d apparentlyenjoyedit—I never should’ve lost control like that. Especially not with someone who was trying to help me. To protect me.
His methods sucked ass, but I still trusted him.
Maybe that made me a fool. Jury was still out on that.
“I’ll be fine,” I assured Ronan. “Text me later, okay?” I leaned in for a quick kiss before heading over to join Emilio, who led me to the front door with a hand on my lower back.
His soft, gentle kindness was exactly the company I needed tonight. No pressure. No awkward sparring. No tension. Just a decent freaking guy with a killer smile and a heart the size of Nebraska—the perfect remedy for the day’s disasters.
The last thing I heard before disappearing inside was Ronan, the eerie calm in his voice belying the rage simmering just below the surface.
“Get in the van, hellspawn,” he said to Asher, and I knew without looking back that his eyes had turned coal black. “We’ve got some shit to discuss.”
Fourteen
GRAY
The shower wasn’t quite hot enough to washallmy sins away, but it did get rid of the dirt and the blood, and most of my residual anger. Asher’s words may have been unnecessarily brutal, but he’d been right about one thing: crying under the blankets was not a winning strategy, especially now that Jonathan had the power to reach me in the magical realm.
I didn’t know how or when he’d make his move here in the physical realm—only that he would. I needed to learn how to fight, both defensively and offensively. I needed to learn how to channel that magic—to tap into that strength, let it infuse me with power, and direct it on command rather than as a reaction to being taunted. And I needed to learn it quickly, no matter how frustrated I might get at my own limitations.
Still, why did Ash have to be such a dick about everything?
Every time I thought we were making progress as friends, he put up another wall. And I just kept on slamming right into them.
Determined not to let him ruin myentirenight, I dressed in my coziest pair of pajamas—a light blue fleece set with clouds all over them that Sophie had given me when I’d come down with the flu last winter—and followed the scent of fresh baked deliciousness to the kitchen, where Emilio was taking a pan of something out of the oven.
“Are those brownies?” I asked.
“Excellent timing,querida,” he said with a wink. He set the pan on a cooling rack on the center island, then removed his oven mitts. “This is an Emilio Alvarez exclusive recipe, and since you and I are the only ones here, you get first dibs.”
“Where’s Darius?”
“He had a meeting in Seattle—he won’t be back until tomorrow night. He said to tell you he’d try to call you later—he didn’t want to disturb you in the shower.”
The idea of Darius disturbing me in the shower sent a little thrill down my spine, and I was bummed that he hadn’t tried.
Still, it didn’t get much better than homemade brownies, and I took a deep chocolatey whiff. “You made these fromscratch?”
“How else do you make sweet-and-spicy triple-chocolate brownies?” Emilio’s face morphed into a mask of abject horror. “From abox?”
I nearly swooned.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but… Emilio Alvarez?” I batted my eyelashes. “Will you marry me?”
His smile looked as sweet as his creation smelled. “Not tonight,querida. But to ease the sting of my brutal rejection, I’ll share these with you. Sound good?”
“Are you kidding me? That’s the best offer I’ve gotten all day.”
“They need to cool a bit, and I need to return a call to the police chief.” He pulled the phone from his pocket. “Let’s say we reconvene on the deck with a couple of spoons, some milk, and this whole pan in fifteen minutes.”
“You got it, detective.”
While Emilio went to make his call, I found a tray and loaded it up with spoons, napkins, and two big, frothy glasses of ice-cold milk, already feeling a hundred times better than I had an hour ago.
