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He met her gaze once more. “Who would want both you and me dead? That’s what I don’t get. One or the other of us would make sense. I have enough enemies—”

“And your entire territory would be happy to see me in my grave.”

“I won’t argue with that.” But his lips curved.

~ ~ ~

She wasn’t offended. She knew how hard her species was on vampires, the number of massacres employed against his kind by the dark witch covens. Elegance had a number of her kind intent on destroying Crescent.

But, oh, that smile again.

He was the sort of man who pulled no punches and didn’t have a lot of frills around him either. Some men needed to be hand-held. He would need something else held, but that would be about it. God help her, she liked him.

She slowly turned away from him, pretending to take in the room. She sipped her wine some more, then put her hand up against the bare parts of her ass. She flipped back around, her cheeks warming. “Have you got a long shirt or maybe a t-shirt I could borrow?”

“I do. And if you don’t mind, I’m going to shower and change gear.”

“Please. Do what you need to do.”

Wine in hand, he moved past her, heading beyond the dining table. He was so tall, at least six-five, and built. His shoulders looked massive against his black tank. The sight of his Glock and holster clipped on one side of his belt and his half-sword with a sheath clipped to the other made her feminine soul long for more from him.

She also had a clear view of his torn up leathers and a lot of what lay beneath. Maybe he knew she was looking, but he didn’t seem at all embarrassed by the rips in his pants. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t and desire for him rose once more.

Her craving for him returned full force. Maybe because he wasn’t standing right next to her, she felt free to indulge.

Once he disappeared down the hall, she released a heavy rush of air. Part of her was relieved to have a break from all the lust and longing. The other part was curious to discover more about him since she now had a chance to see his surroundings.

Their homes had one similarity that surprised her. Each was small, that was true. But the first room in both was the dining area.

Taking her wine with her, she moved past the table and into a small living room with black leather furniture and, not surprising, a large flat-screen TV opposite. Very male, but at the same time, he had jumbles of books stacked here and there.

She picked one up from the end table. It was a book about Egypt and the pharaohs. Beneath lay a large coffee table tome with several pictures of swords and daggers on the front. The Border Patrol officers carried a smallish sword since the drug world loved their blades. Hence the ridiculously sexy, black leather wrist guards the men wore as well to protect their arms from getting sliced up. The leather was reinforced with steel. The female BP officers, of which there were a few, wore them as well.

She set the Egypt book back down and meandered in the direction of a small patio. There was a single Adirondack chair and a nearby table. She had a strong sense of Connor’s solitude, otherwise there would have been two chairs or more and a patio table.

He appeared to be as alone as she was.

But she was stunned to find a collection of nicely crafted redwood planters outside, each bearing some kind of succulent or cactus.

As a witch, she knew better than anyone the importance of having and caring for a garden. All kinds of energies moved in and out of the plants and the soil. Even the insects that arrived to partake of the bounty had a purpose and changed things.

Checking to make sure the wood was sanded down smooth, she slowly lowered her bare-ish bottom onto the chair. So far, so good. She sipped more of her wine and tried to figure out what she was seeing. Connor’s home looked thought-out, not just jumbled together, another sign he’d been around longer than the thirty-years he looked.

After a few minutes, she went back inside, closing the sliding glass door behind her. A black t-shirt lay on the couch and in the distance, she heard the shower running.

She unclipped her Sig holster and settled it on the nearest sofa cushion. Her belt and jeans were next. After she unbuckled and set the button loose, she unzipped, then slowly slid her pants down her achy body.

Her cuts and bruises were only half healed. If she’d been badly injured, she would have needed some quiet time and a homemade salve made with her favorite medicinal herbs. And a long soak in her tub steeped with bay leaves, lavender, and rosemary.

Sliding off her top, she donned Connor’s black t-shirt. It hit her mid-thigh, which would cover her well enough for now. She folded up her clothes and pulled her cell from her pants pocket, grateful not to have lost her phone in the blast. She then gathered up her belongings and placed them in a neat pile on the dining table.

She smelled the sleeve of Connor’s shirt, liking how fresh it was. She’d been a witch for ten years and in all that time she’d never been this close to a vampire. She’d long since supposed they all lived like animals. She knew it wasn’t universally true, but so many did, lost as a lot of them were to the flame drugs.

She thought about calling for a cab and heading home, but chose to wait. She needed to talk with Connor before she left, even to thank him again.

But as her thoughts turned back to the explosion, once more she pondered why she and Connor had been summoned to Sentinel. Who the hell wanted them dead?

~ ~ ~

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