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A slight blush crept across her cheeks. She looked pleased and so very, very kissable. He cleared his throat and glanced at his watch. It was well after midnight. “Why don’t we turn in for the night and get an early start tomorrow? With any sort of luck, we’ll find them quickly and get you all out of here.”
Her gaze skittered across the beds and evaded his altogether. “You don’t want to check the road maps or something first?”
She was avoiding going to bed, avoiding any appearance of intimacy. “I won’t pounce on you,” he said with a wry smile. He might want to, but he wouldn’t. Self-control was one thing he’d learned all too well. “I’m a fast learner. No woman has to reject me twice.”
Heat stained her cheeks again, and a hint of annoyance flashed through her eyes. Then she rose and walked across the room to her bag.
He watched her until she shut the bathroom door, then stripped and got into bed. He turned off the light, listening to the night and the wind whistle through the trees outside the window. A soothing sound, if it weren’t for the fact that he was a bare ten feet away from a woman he wanted and couldn’t have.
After a long delay, she came out and climbed into bed. He didn’t look at her, didn’t need to. The smell of roses surrounded him, and her emotions filled his mind with color. He couldn’t block her out even if he tried.
He crossed his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. After a while, her breathing slowed, though something told him she wasn’t asleep. He waited, wondering if she would ask the one question he feared.
“Jon?” she said softly into the silence.
“Hmmm?” This was it. And he had no choice but to answer her, whether or not he hurt her in the process.
“What do you really feel for me?”
I want you more than I’ve ever wanted a woman. I want you for more than just a night. But that was not the question she was asking.
“I don’t know,” he replied quietly. “I just don’t know.”
And that was what worried him the most.
JON WAITED UNTIL HE HEARD THE SOUND OF THE SHOWER door closing, then rose from the table and walked across to the phone.
The old witch answered straightaway. “It’s a bit early, cowboy. Don’t you ever sleep?”
Not last night he hadn’t. And he knew by the tone of Seline’s voice that he hadn’t woken her up. He smiled. In all the years he’d known her, she’d rarely seemed to sleep for more than a couple of hours a night. “I think we have a lead on the kids, Seline. If luck’s with us, we’ll have them out in a couple of hours.”
“Don’t depend on luck, Jon. It’s a fickle friend.”
“So I’ve discovered. Have we any records of shapeshifters living in this area?”
“None recorded, but that don’t mean a damn. Most of you lot are a migratory bunch.”
Most, but not all. Wolves and hawks tended to be more settled than most—probably because, like the animals whose shape they took, wolf and hawk shifters tended to mate for life. He glanced at the bathroom, then scrubbed a hand across his eyes.
“What did you find out about Hank Stewart?”
“Nothing much more than what’s on file. He was born in St. Helen’s nearly forty years ago—”
“And he barely looks thirty.”
“—and he was an only child. Moved to Taurin Bay ten years ago. Lives by himself and rents a small house on Maxwell Street. Never married as far as I can find, and has no living relatives.”
“Did he have a brother?”
“Not alive, no. He died just over eight months ago in a car crash.”
Which tallied up with what Hank had already said. What was the betting that it was no accident, though? They certainly wouldn’t have wanted a relative around who could raise the alarm about an imposter. And the real Hank had obviously been something of a loner outside of his work at the inn, or someone would have picked up on the fact that the man was missing and someone else was using his name. “No unidentified bodies have been found in the area?”
“None yet. We’re still sifting through police reports from various states.”
Which could take days. They didn’t have that much time—and in the end, it wouldn’t make that much difference. “I’ve found our killer, Seline. I think she’s using blood magic to extend her life and the life of her bodyguard—the man now masquerading as Hank Stewart.”
“Anyone we know?”
