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He tried to put himself in her shoes and asked, “Do you need some alone time? Do you want me to take you home?”
“Hell, no,” she responded quickly. “From what I’ve seen tonight, there’s a good chance you’ll need me again. I’m not going anywhere until this shitty situation with Margetta-the-bitch is resolved, as in, you find a way to kick her out of Swanicott for good. Or break her neck. Though, I’d prefer the latter.”
Of all the things that had happened over the past couple of hours, even more than learning that Olivia was a blood rose, these words slapped his mind but good. The woman thought the way he thought, speaking aloud his own logic and desires.
“Good,” he responded simply.
A few minutes later he landed on the front gravel walk of his home near a several-centuries-old lighthouse. The house faced south with blue shingles and white trim around the door and windows. The shrubs already had a tight, getting-ready-for-winter-look and the lawn had turned beige.
He opened the door for her and when she moved inside, he offered, “Roam at will.”
“Thanks.”
The funny thing was, she didn’t seem all that intrigued by his choice of home or the lighthouse. Most women he’d brought here were fascinated. But then Olivia wasn’t like anyone he’d ever known before.
He showered and changed into fresh battle leathers and a clean maroon, woven shirt. He had several Guard coats and pulled one from the closet. The boots he’d worn would need mending, so he grabbed another pair, one without the skulls. He’d watched Olivia fondle them and knew she’d be disappointed in the simpler silver medallions.
She even liked his metal skulls.
Back in the living room, he found her flipping through a book he had on the history of the Nine Realms.
“So, I’m wondering about something,” he began. “Don’t you think my home next to a lighthouse is somewhat noteworthy?”
“Sure. I guess.”
“You’re not easily impressed, are you?”
Her brows rose. “Have I offended you because of my lack of enthusiasm?”
“Yeah, maybe you have.” But he smiled, wondering what she would say.
She rose from the couch and glanced around. “I spent a lot of time on the Internet searching for info about you. The first time I ghosted you, I was totally freaked out, but it led me here. So I think it’s more that I’m really familiar with your home than that I’m not intrigued. I definitely was at first.”
He frowned, thinking this through. He’d brought a lot of women to this house over the past year, especially those doneuses who liked sleeping with him. “This ability you have to ‘ghost’ me as you call it. Does it mean you’ve watched me in the bedroom?”
“Sometimes.” She’d already told him she knew about his adventures at the Elf Lords Hideaway. Maybe she’d watched him there as well. Probably.
“How about the shower? You watch me in there?”
A slow smile overtook her lips. “Often, though usually when you didn’t have a woman with you. You have a magnificent physique, Mastyr. The shifter in me has had a hard time not looking.”
He held her gaze for a long moment. “You know something, I like you,” he said at last.
And for the first time since he’d met her in Margetta’s camp, she seemed surprised. Her brows rose. “You do?”
“Sure. What’s not to like?”
Her cheeks colored up. At first, he thought she might be embarrassed by the compliment. But after a moment, he understood that she was pleased.
But this wouldn’t do, all this almost-flirting and passing back and forth of compliments. She wasn’t a relationship kind of woman, and he’d had enough of marital bliss to last him a good century or two. He could never go back to that kind of daily quarreling.
Clearing his throat, he said, “I’m still trying to wrap my head around your ghosting ability. You sure that’s what you did?”
She shrugged. “Answer me this, how do you suppose I knew you were at Margetta’s camp, or that you’d been taken off the street in Britchett Falls?”
“Good point. So, exactly how does it work?” He adjusted the weapons sash that went from his right shoulder to his left hip, making sure the new set of daggers were in tight.
She shrugged. “I just think about you and I’m there, like riding on your shoulder. Not my body, of course, but I can see and hear everything you do. It’s annoying as hell, though, because I wish my tracking device wasn’t stuck to you. I’d undo it if I could, but,” and here she sighed, “I know it’s there for a reason. And at this point, I’m thinking it might have something to do with keeping you alive.”
