Page 17 of Bound By the Sleeper’s Harp

“That about sums it up.”

“Except it doesn’t, sugar. Not really.” He crossed his arms. “Like, for example, why did you leave the university? And why didn’t you stay in touch with Professor Miller?”

My cheeks heated. “My reasons for leaving are private and have nothing to do with Jane.”

“How convenient.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that?” I surged to my feet and stalked out of the room, straight for the front door. Shoving my feet into my boots and zipping them up, I decided to take my chances walking home. Better than sitting here accused of murder.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice exuded a level of patience that rankled.

“Home,” I snapped, reaching for the doorknob. It didn’t budge. I twisted and yanked, then swore. “Why won’t the door open?”

He didn’t answer.

A gnawing sensation settled over me. I looked at the nearest window and strode over. Flipping the latch, I pushed upward. It didn’t move. Like it was never intended to be opened.

Magic. It had to be. I’d seen the blue glow surrounding his home. This asshole had trapped me.

“Are you fucking serious?” I rounded on Bastian. He stood in the archway watching me, his arms crossed, casually leaning against the frame.

The corner of his lips twitched.

“You think this is funny?” I cried.

“I think it’s fucking cute, sure.”

I opened and closed my mouth. “Great. I’m glad you get such a kick out of me. I want to go home. I’m done playing your question games. We’re through.”

“Not going to happen. We’re not done here, and it’s almost two in the morning. I’m not taking you home right now.”

I balked. “Seriously? What the fuck else do you want to know?”

“I want your input. If not you, who do you think could have killed Professor Miller? I want to know how exactly you two knew each other. I want to know how close you were. Close, obviously, if she left you everything. You’re my best lead. You think I’ll just let you walk through that door?”

I blew out a breath. All the energy I’d mustered for my tantrum drained away. Until this moment, I’d been on the defensive. I cared about Jane, even if we hadn’t spoken for years. She was the reason I remained safe from Luke for this long. Now she was dead, and someone deserved justice.

Bastian might have wanted her killer for financial reasons—or whatever it was that hunters received in exchange for finding prey. Me? I wanted the killer to pay. This was personal.

I took a moment to study Bastian, really taking him in. He looked like a mean motherfucker. If anyone could make it happen, he could.

“You really want to catch her killer?”

“That’s what I’ve been paid for, yes.”

“But you think it’s me, and I take offense with that.”

“Sugar, I’ve seen lambs capable of ripping a person’s face off.”

A laugh burst from my lips. “I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered. That you think I’m a lamb, or that you think I could rip someone’s face off. I’d like to rip yours off, for starters. And believe me, if I could, I would have done it already.”

The corner of his mouth didn’t just twitch this time, it pulled up into a smile—the first I’d seen from him. My stomach flipped, going all fluttery. It was annoying.

He isn’t even your type, I reminded myself.

“All right,” Bastian said, lifting his hands and taking a step back. “What if I rescind my accusation? Treat you like a partner instead of a suspect. Would you be willing to answer my questions, help me get to the bottom of this?”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “Do I get another glass of whisky?”