“Do you think he will?” I ask. “What if he stays away for good?”
“He’s got a wife and children here. At some point, he’ll either return or send word for them. We’re watching the house, as well as the homes of all his known associates—his partners on the force, his favorite bars, his drug dealer.”
“Sounds like you’ve got all the bases cov—ohmygoodness!”
Another shock to my core, strong enough to steal my breath.
“Miss Avery?” Draegan moves to reach for me, but I take a step back and shake my head, the buzz fading once more.
“Fine,” I pant. “Just another… another hot flash.Woo, it’s like summer in here, isn’t it? Time to bust out the lemonade and—”
No. Not again. Rook!
Draegan cocks his head. “Did you hear that?”
“No! I mean… hear… what?”
“Some sort of… buzzing sound. Only, muffled.” He takes a step toward me, his gray eyes scrutinizing my face. “There! There it is again. It seems to be coming from—”
“Hungry!” I blurt out, my legs quaking now, sweat beading on the back of my neck, my clit begging for friction and holy shit I’m going tokillRook when he gets home. After he ravishes me, of course, but still. Dead!
“Grumbling stomach!” I explain. “You know how it is. Anyway, thanks for the update, good looking out, keep me posted, bye!”
I grab my container of streusel and bolt for the door, but just before I make it out, Draegan grabs my hand, and I stop.
So does the buzzing.
I’m not sure whether to be annoyed or relieved about that, but the moment I turn around and catch Draegan’s gaze—wild and tempestuous, full of emotion—I decide I’m relieved.
“Draegan,” I whisper, my heart cracking open for him all over again. “I don’t—”
“I never should’ve let them live as long as I did,” he says, his voice choked with regret. “Reedsy, Lennon, Celine, their staff… All of them. I should’ve known Reedsy’s interest in your case went deeper than his petty grievances with our organization. I should’ve known Forsythe would find other ways to get to you. I should’ve—”
“None of that is your fault, and I refuse to let you take that blame.” I squeeze his hand. “We’re all in this together, okay?”
He stares at me for so long I start to wonder if he even heard me. But then, finally, he nods.
“I’m going out to the library to work on the Codex,” I say.
“Again?”
“And again and again until I’ve cracked every mystery.” I smile. “Hey, I told you I’m not stopping until I find a way to free you, and I meant it.”
He cups my face, a new storm brewing in his eyes.
“Westlyn,” he whispers, stroking my cheek with his thumb, his touch so gentle I close my eyes and lose myself in it, just for a moment. “Sometimes when I look into your eyes, I start to wonder if maybe you already have. If maybe you set us free that very first night we met, and this is merely my soul’s version of heaven.”
I suck in a sharp breath, his palm so warm against my cheek, my heart thundering…
I feel his soft touch slip away.
And when I finally open my eyes again, he’s gone.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
ROOK
From the moment the dark fae made us, gargoyles have been legends. Myths. The stuff of nightmares and books, stories told around the fire and—many centuries later—the screen.
