“Haley!” Saint suddenly called out, heading across the lawn. He was carrying a few bags of restaurant food—I recognized the smell of Cajun Jeb’s.
Haley gave me one more smile. Felt like a gift. Then she lowered her hand and turned to face him, taking that electric zing with her.
“Sorry to keep you,” he said, charming as ever in a fitted suit the color of sand, white shirt open at the top. “I was out picking up lunch—took a little longer than I’d hoped.”
“Totally on brand, Elian. But… bright side?” She plucked one of the bags from his arms and peeked inside. “This time, you only left me hanging for an hour instead of five years. And you brought food. Hallelujah praise the goddess, maybe youcanbe trained!”
On the inside, I was laughing my rock-hard ass off.
Good girl.
“Haley… What happened to your…?” He reached for her wounded hand but stopped just short of touching her.
She flexed her fingers and shrugged. “Just a little blood spell. It’ll heal up in a few minutes.”
“But… on its own? How?”
“Blood magick. It’s is a hell of a drug.” She flashed Saint a killer smile he didn’t deserve, keeping her other hand—the one with that fat scar along her wrist—tucked under the food bag.
Something told me he hadn’t seen it last night, either. Might not have been so smug if he had.
Saint glared at me now, a warning flashing in them nickel-plated eyes like I needed to know something, and fast.
What the fuck he was trying to warnmeabout, I had no idea. Didn’t care, honestly.
Homeboy shoulda been warning himself. ‘Cause here’s what Ialreadyknew: He’d hurt her in the past. Bad.
And as soon as the sun set and I was back to being a hot-blooded man again?
FuckCajun Jeb’s jambalaya. That fae-fucking sonofabitch was gonna taste my fist.
10
HALEY
Ifollowed Elian into the house, as grateful for the air conditioning as I was for the food.
Phew. New Orleans needed a level-ten boob sweat warning stamped right there on the welcome sign.
The interior was even more picture-perfect than the outside, completely remodeled but still retaining its original charm. Lush draperies hung over floor-to-ceiling windows, and crown molding wrapped around the tops of the high walls, everything done in an elegant palate of creams, sages, and black. Nothing was out of place—I’d be surprised if Saint had even spent much time here.
I took a moment to look around, bracing for the same gut-punch that’d socked me outside. It didn’t come, though. My spell seemed to be working, keeping me grounded. Keeping me sane.
Just a beautiful old house,I reminded myself.Just a means to an end.
The kitchen was a massive affair of exposed brick walls, granite countertops, and stainless steel appliances, ending in an eating nook with French doors that led out to a sunny patio.
At the center of the nook, Jax was seated at the table reading the newspaper—like, apapernewspaper, not a tablet—which was about the quaintest thing I’d ever seen. He’d ditched last night’s white button-down for a faded black Dead Weather T-shirt that clung to his muscled chest, his hair damp from a recent shower.
He looked and smelled good enough to lick—a situation that wasnothelping me recover from the heatstroke.
Maybe NOLA needed a warning sign for him, too.
“Hey there, sinner,” I said with a smile. “Fancy meeting you here.”
He glanced up from the newspaper and flashed a grin—there and gone again—and I practically swooned.
Pay no attention to the diamond-hard nipples your lush mouth has suddenly inspired…
