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Just then, Armand materialized a few feet away, his expression grim. “No cell phones escaped the fire.”
Levi gritted his teeth. “Fuck.”
“Whoever made the call to this Alfie person probably took precautions to ensure it couldn’t be traced back to them in any case,” said Armand.
“Probably,” Knox agreed.
After spending a few more minutes exchanging theories that got them nowhere, they returned to Levi’s apartment.
His heart squeezed when he saw Piper curled up asleep on the sofa. She was far too pale, and he hated the sight of the dark smudges under her eyes. He should have prolonged the hellbull’s suffering a little more.
She didn’t stir as people announced they were leaving and said their goodbyes. He was glad of it. She needed her rest.
Once they were alone, Levi crossed to the sofa and stared down at her. He’d watched her sleep many times. He liked to look at her. Smell her. Touch her. Liked knowing he had such a basic claim to her—one she’d never escape.
When he realized she was his anchor and that he’d no longer have to keep his distance, he’d known he’d one day have her in his bed—or hers. He’d known it would be good. He’d known it might take some time to work the need she roused in him out of his system.
He hadn’t known that that need would intensify rather than level off. He hadn’t anticipated that she’d be an itch he’d never quite scratch, a tug in his stomach that would never ease up, a hum in his blood who’d addicted him better and faster than any drug.
His demon was hooked on her. It liked everything about her. And its possessiveness of her had ballooned over the past two weeks. The territorialism was no longer purely anchor based. The entity was proprietary of her on every level, and Levi doubted she had any clue.
He carefully scooped her up and carried her through his apartment, nuzzling her hair. In his bedroom, he flicked back his coverlet and laid her on his bed. As he slipped off her shoes, he noticed her eyelids flutter open. “Hey,” he said softly.
“Hey.” It was a croak. She blinked hard. “What did the hellbull say?”
Levi kicked off his own shoes. “He and his friends, who thought of themselves as mere delivery men, were hired to take you to someone. He didn’t have a name or other details to help us.”
She sighed. “So we have nothing.”
“Knox and I do feel we can be sure that the bastard at the deli wasn’t hired help. He was there to kill you, and he enjoyed causing you pain. The hellbull, on the other hand, was only asked to retrieve and deliver you.”
She frowned as Levi whipped off his tee, her eyes dipping to the wound on his chest. “I hate seeing you injured.”
His heart squeezed. “Right back at you.” He unbuttoned his fly. “Need help getting off your dress?”
“Nah, I got it.”
He shed his jeans while she awkwardly shimmied out of her ruined dress before tossing it on the floor. His jaw hardened at the sight of her burns. They’d healed a little more since he last checked them, but they still had to be sore.
Sliding into bed beside her, he said, “I have a proposition.”
“You want me to temporarily move in here.”
He blinked. “Am I that predictable?”
“When it comes to matters concerning my safety, yes. I’m not crazy about the idea, but I can’t deny it makes sense. Your security measures far exceed mine.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “You’re not going to fight me on this?”
“I’m all about being sensible. No one can get to me here, which means they also can’t get to you. If I insist on staying at my house, you’ll want to stay there with me. I’d then be putting you in danger of whoever might think to come for me there. That’s not good with me. You’re not the only one who’s protective, you know.”
He swallowed. “It’s easy to forget that. You don’t struggle to fight the pull of the bond.”
“Actually, you’re wrong, I do struggle to fight—”
“Then stop doing it. My demon hates that you’re not claimed; that you don’t wear an anchor mark that proclaims you’re ours and we’d fight to the death for you.”
There’d be something bittersweet for Levi about finally forming the bond, because he’d lose the sexual intimacy they had. He’d always known he would have to give it up eventually. Because she’d been right—casual sex would muddy things between them. It already had.
As much as he didn’t want things to go back to the way they initially were, what kind of person would it make him to put his libido before his anchor’s safety? He was her one guarantee that she’d never turn rogue. He would strengthen her and center her demon. He had to put her first because, whether she believed it or not, she was his priority.
