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“I know him too. Or I knew his grandparents.”
The coldness intensified, vibrating in his senses, and leaving Henry in devastation. He felt Pearl’s gasp in her body’s shudder, but the grin remained on her lips and turned sultry as she insistently hovered over the man. It forced Pampei’s attention back on her and lessened the chill.
“I’m sure you do, but he’s not them,” she said firmly. “And wow. Up close, you look even better, Mr. Magoo. So handsome and youthful.”
“It’s a youth spell. It keeps me young, though there’s the added nuisance of raging hormones.”
Henry’s brows shot up, then behaved when the man cut him another glance. Stubbornly, Pearl touched the man’s shoulder and took his attention once more.
“That must be quite tiring,” she crooned. “I’m sure you have ways of solving that issue.”
“No, I don’t. Not alone in this place, and with my wife dead.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. My sympathies. If there’s anything I can do…”
Pampei regarded her closely. “What are you offering me, Miss Sutton?”
Pearl fluttered her lashes. “I don’t know. What is it that you need so badly, Mr. Magoo?”
The conversation went on. Jealousy swallowed Henry whole. A part of him knew this was a ploy on her part to get that gun off their faces, but the other part of him raged with the awareness that even a dangerous man like Pampei had needs—and Pearl was feeding right into it. An image of Pampei’s hands on her, making her moan in pleasure, glittered in mind and drove him crazy with the need to break something. The words spilled out of his accord, brittle with barely-controlled fury.
“We’re not here to offer you anything. We’re on the run from my family.”
He snatched her back and kept steering her away until she was right beside him, pressed so close that she looked up in alarm. The man looked up, too, from her hypnotic—infuriatingly charming—smile.
“What?”
“What?” Pearl echoed. “Henry—”
He held her even tighter until her body was molded to his, crushing the side of her tits to his chest. He briefly closed his eyes against the onslaught of pleasure in that single physical contact, then opened them and locked in on Pampei.
“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he murmured, directing his tone to a gentler plane. “We can tell him. Mr. Magoo understands what it’s like to love someone his family disapproves of. I’m sure he wishes us no harm.”
Silence.
“You’re together?” Pampei asked.
“Yes.”
“Do they know?”
A pause, then, “Not yet.”
Tension coiled in the atmosphere, and for a nerve-wracking second, he feared he had fumbled the ball and tossed them straight to their deaths. Then the gun was lowered inch by inch until it was no longer threatening to shatter their heads.
“I see,” Pampei mumbled. “I would like to hear more.”
“Sure.”
Danger dodged for now,Henry thought, still not believing it.
But the biggest surprise was the young woman who ambled out of the cottage and called to Pampei.
“Papa, stop contemplating over that gun and invite them in for some dinner and rest. It looks like they could use it.”
Chapter 7
Pearl was having a difficult time focusing on recalling the things she knew about Pampei Magoo, but she managed and honed it down to several key points: One, he was one of the most powerful warlocks in his time, who came from an influential family, and was greatly revered until he married a less influential witch. Two, not only was she less influential, but she was also a witch with Fae blood running in her veins. Three, unlike Emerald’s Fae mate, Rickavior Aviel of the Winter Court, the woman’s Fae blood was from a more obscure court, and the woman couldn’t control her sadistic tendencies.
