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He brushed a lingering, sensual kiss along my lips, teasing with slow precision. A soft moan escaped me. “I wish we were back home. And alone.”
“So do I.” He shifted over me, showing me how much he truly wished we were.
I laughed, joy buoying me up after the near-death experience in the woods. Kol grew serious all of a sudden. “Which home would that be?”
“Yours. I want to live with you.”
“You’d leave Gladium for me?”
“In a heartbeat.” I smiled.
“I wouldn’t do that to you, Moira. We’ll find a place in Gladium together, where you can do your work and I can do mine.”
“What about your place in the Feygreir mountains?”
“We’ll go there when we want to hide from the world.”
I nipped again at his lips, so tempting. “Sounds like heaven.”
“You are my heaven.” His arms squeezed me tighter against him.
“And you are mine.”
After Mikal, I’d decided that love wasn’t all that important. That marriage could be found in some distant future of my own choosing. And the husband of my choosing would be conciliatory and passive, allowing me to chase my dreams without his interference.
What I hadn’t imagined was that an exceedingly dominant man would come into my life and rattle me to the point that I didn’t give a damn about my dreams, because life with him had become most important. What I hadn’t imagined was that this same man—knowing my heart as well as his own, knowing my life would be incomplete without fulfilling those dreams—would insist on being my equal, my partner. Never my master. I hadn’t imagined this man would be my silent, steadfast protector so that I could have every wish my heart desired. I hadn’t imagined…Kol Moonring. The one who orbited my life and encircled my heart with a love beyond imagining. He was Fate fallen from the sky.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The anchorwoman stood in front of the Vaenger Stadium, listing the names of the four murdered girls. Their still photos, the ones I had scanned and sent to her from my bulletin board, popped up briefly on the comm-screen.
Then she launched into the latest news. “The leader of the Devlin Butchers, Barron Coalglass of the Cloven Province, was killed in an attempt to bring him to justice by the international Morgon Guard and Gladium’s own Nightwing Security team. We have Chief Jackson of the Gladium Precinct here with a statement.”
The forty-something human, graying at the temples, with steel-gray eyes, stared into the camera. “Barron Coalglass was the undeniable ringleader of the so-called Devlin Butchers. Many of his gang were also killed in an attempt to apprehend them. Those who got away are in hiding, but we’ll find them. There is no evidence that the escapees will continue their leader’s criminal path. Therefore, the Vaenger Stadium here in Gladium is open to all of the public once again. Our forces will be vigilant in protecting the people of this city until all perpetrators are brought to justice. Thank you.”
Chief Jackson gave a stiff nod and slipped off-screen.
Kol stepped into the living room of our high-rise apartment on the edge of Gladium. Less than a week since it all had happened, I moved out of my old place and into this one with him.
Kol buttoned up the front of his starched gray shirt, listening to the reporter wrap up her story. I walked behind him and started buttoning the back flaps beneath his wings. “It’s a lie.”
He opened his wings to give me better access. “A necessary one. If we want a world of peace, some lies must be told.”
“Hmph. You’re sounding more like a politician. You sure you don’t want to take a place in the Senate?” I finished up the last of his buttons.
He folded his wings, turned, and took me in his arms. “No, Kittycat.”
The nickname that once made me bristle now made me smile. “No?”
“I’ll leave that to my brother.” He brushed a light kiss across my lips. “Though I’m afraid Kieren will have to stay in hiding for now.”
“Is he really in danger?”
He scoffed. “Titus Coalglass is a powerful son of a bitch, and he won’t turn a blind eye to the blade justice committed on his son. Kieren will be absent from the Cloven Senate for a time. We’ll keep him well-hidden.”
That was only part of the current agenda of the Morgon Guard and Nightwing Security. Another was the scientific analysis of Larkos’s pinky finger. Kol had severed it clear from his hand. A lab technician in Nightwing Security forensics was currently dissecting the digit to discover if this monstrous Morgon could indeed be the first Morgon from ancient tales. How DNA tests could determine this was still a mystery to me. At the moment, Kol and I were alone in believing the Butcher King was in fact the first Morgon to ever live. Even Lucius and Lorian were skeptical. No Morgon in recorded history had lived a full millennium, much less four. Historical records dated Larkos Nightwing’s birth back to forty-two hundred years ago.
There was also the question of the mole in our ranks, but no one had an inkling who that could be, either. Kol had set certain pieces into motion, but for now, we felt safe. All signs of the Devlin Butchers had vanished, though we knew it was only a matter of time before the world tilted in the other direction.
