“Us.”
“I don’t think so. They weren’t stalking the camp else they would have attacked earlier.”
She grabbed her bags, shoving some food in her pocket for the ride. “Do you think they were hunting your men?”
“It’s more likely that they were drawn to the bodies we left behind last night.”
She grimaced at the reminder.
“I’m sending you home.”
Her gaze jerked up. “What?”
“You’ve brought me far enough. I underestimated the power of the witch and the extent of the rot. My fault. It’s no reflection on your skill as a guide.”
“I can’t go back,” she snapped. “You need me. I can find your men. They’re close now. I can feel it.”
“You canfeelit?” he said scornfully. “What does that even mean? You won’t even tell me how you’re doing it. Every day we’re out here increases your danger.”
She poked his chest. “It increases your danger too.”
“I’m a witch hunter. It’s part of my job.”
“It’s a stupid job.” She’d never believed that more than she did at this moment. “Is this about last night? It won’t happen again. I’ve never killed anyone before. You said it happened even to soldiers. I won’t ask you to touch me again if you don’t want to.”
He blew out a breath. “You could have died. Last night. This morning. I can’t keep you safe.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“No, you can’t. You need to go home. You’ll still get your money.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
His eyes narrowed as he pulled something from his pocket. The witchstone. It glowed with a faint blue light. He bounced it on the palm of his hand. “This flared when the familiars got close. That’s how I knew where to find you. It doesn’t react to whatever it is you’re doing, but if you are using magic in some way…” He shook his head. “The demon will be able to taste it. It will draw the familiars too.”
He waited. For a confession, she thought. He wasn’t getting one. Only a fool would do something like that.
“I’m not using any magic.”
Not really.
Not like he meant.
He searched her face for a moment longer. “Go home.”
She shook her head. “Not until we find your men.”
With a frustrated growl, he pocketed the stone. Then he reached out to cup the back of her head. His fingers speared through her hair and he pulled her forward. His free armwrapped around her waist, tying her to his body as his mouth found hers. His lips brushed against hers, startlingly soft, applying light pressure until she opened for him. His tongue licked inside, tasting her, moving with devastating expertise.
God, the man could kiss.
She forgot about the familiars and the witch and the fact that he’d rejected her just that morning. She forgot about everything except for the strength of his warm body, his hand anchoring her in place while he claimed her mouth. Liquid heat pooled between her legs. Her hands came up to clutch at his shoulders.
When he finally lifted his head to draw air, his eyes glittered dangerously as they met hers. He muttered a curse and pulled away. Untangling his fingers from her hair, he released her gently, steadying her with a hand on her hip until she caught her balance.
He pressed his forehead to hers. “If something happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself.”
When he pulled back, he swept a thumb over the crest of her cheek and winced. “Forget that happened.”
