“What about your car?” Augustine asks. “Not that there’s anything left to salvage.”
“I’ll call in a favor—get it towed out of here tonight without any questions. In the meantime, I need to get Westlyn back to Blackmoor and see to her injuries.”
“I’m not injured,” she murmurs in my arms, but her voice is growing faint, and dark circles bloom beneath her eyes.
“Humor me, love. Hero complex, remember?” I draw her into another tight embrace, more to calm myself than to calm her.
Bloody hell, I nearly lost her tonight—more than once. She could’ve died in my car. She could’ve been thrown from the wreckage. She could’ve been torn apart by those mages or kidnapped by Eloise or fried by whatever dark fae magic seems to have its claws in her soul, andallof those things would’ve been my fault.
I think of her fiery gaze in the car tonight, moments before the crash.
I think of her quiet bravery in the bank, trying to make sense of a past that’s been kept from her.
I think of everything that happened between us earlier—her smart mouth, her soft moans, her devious little tongue, the feel of her silky skin as I kissed that spot on the back of her neck and everything inside me wants to fuckingexplodewith fury at the mere thought that those mages put their hands on her. That her stepmother came so close to stealing her away. That she could’ve been irreparably harmed…
I never should’ve brought her into the city. I was a fool to think I could keep her safe with my presence alone.
“Fine,” she says softly, a yawn overtaking her. “Just try not to blow anything else up on the way home, okay? Your nightly quota of heroic acts is officially full.”
“I promise,” I whisper, though I’m not sure she even hears me. She’s passed out in my arms, finally succumbing to the post-adrenaline, post-magic exhaustion. As gently as I can manage, I take the briefcase from her and reposition her in my arms for the flight home. We’re not far, but I’m not taking any more chances tonight.
Then, turning back to Jude and Augustine with a final nod, I say only, “Comestraighthome when you’re done. And watch your fucking backs.”
Chapter Nine
JUDE
“There’s nothing I love more than making you wriggle for me, scarecrow. But in this particular endeavor, I must insist.” I tighten my grip on Westlyn’s bare foot and drag my gaze up the length of her shorts-and-T-shirt clad body, shooting her a scornful look. “Hold still or you’ll make me smudge, and I’ll have no choice but to tie you down and start over.”
Stretched out on her back in Draegan’s bed—yes,Draegan’sbed, which I’m trying not to make a big deal about because sometimes you just have to be the bigger person—she grins at me and rolls her eyes. “Don’t threatenmewith a good time, mister.”
I dip the nail polish brush back into the bottle for another drop of color. Mango Madness, this one’s called. Like a sunrise for your toes, or so the nice girl at Sephora told me when I popped over to Kingston to get Westlyn a few treats earlier. “Draegan says you’re in no condition to be tied down and ravaged, so don’t give me any ideas.”
She shoots me a dubious look. “Really? He said those exact words?”
“I’m paraphrasing, but—”
“Since when do you follow his orders, anyway?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Since you nearly died the other night and I wasn’t there to protect you? That’s probably my best guess.”
“Sodramatic.” She laughs and nudges me with her pretty toes, and I return to the task at hand, but I know she’s still a bit out of sorts about the whole thing.
Weallare.
Other than a few minor cuts and bruises, she escaped the ordeal without physical injury. But a few trips to the bathroom notwithstanding, she’s basically been in bed for over thirty-six hours now. Alert and asking questions about what happened, trying to help us put some of the pieces together as well, but not keen to do much else. I was more than a little relieved when she woke up earlier tonight complaining about the state of her pedicure—that, at least, was something normal and mundane. Something I could help her with and bring a smile back to her pretty mouth.
Draegan filled us all in about her little lights-and-magic show on the road, not to mention the mysterious runes, but even after hearing his full report, she still can’t remember it. She remembers accessingsomesort of magic earlier that night—something that gave her a glimpse at her stepmother’s crazy thoughts—but then it was gone, and she hasn’t been able to call it up again since.
Which might be for the best. When it comes to her formerly nonexistent magic—not to mention the dark fae lineage that may be partially responsible for it—none of us have any idea what we’re dealing with yet.
“Any news from Rook about the SSD card?” she asks now.
“Last I checked, he was still running it through some algorithms or code breakers or... I don’t know, exactly. He tried to explain it to me, but to be perfectly honest, my eyes started glazing over about thirty seconds in, and the next thing I knew I was asleep on my feet and he was near about ready to bash me in the head with a book. But fear not. If there’s anyone who can break into anything digital, it’s our resident genius.”
She nods, propping herself up a bit higher with the pillows so she can inspect my progress on her toes. “Any updates on the hit?”
“We didn’t find anything of interest in the car that hit you, but Rook’s contact at the DMV confirmed the registration—it’s definitely one of the shadow mages who also attended your wedding. Based on the descriptions Draegan gave him, Rook pulled up some of the video footage from the cathedral and thinks he’s got the other three arseholes identified as well. All Forsythe’s guests, of course.”
