“I’m not leaving Edinburgh. I briefly considered it when Ulrik told me…”
She trailed off, which set off warning bells. Not to mention she’d said Ulrik’s name. “What did Ulrik tell you?”
“Well, he didn’t outright say it, but he implied that I might get a visit from the Dragon Kings.”
He knew she wasn’t telling him the entire truth, but Warrick recognized that he couldn’t force it out of her. It would have to be something Darcy told him on her own.
“If you’re no’ leaving town, then you better ward this place and the shop as much as you can.”
“And you? Where will you be?”
Why did his heart jump at her question and the hope in her gaze? Then he reminded himself that she wanted to live, and if that meant having Kings around, she would accept it. “I’ll be near, as will Thorn.”
“I know you didn’t help me because you wanted to, and that’s all right. I’m very grateful that you did, however.” She got to her feet then.
Warrick took a deep breath and gave the flat one more look before he headed to the door. “Doona venture out again tonight, and be vigilant from now on.”
“I will. I promise.”
With nothing else to say, Warrick reached for the door. He opened it and walked out, amazed that for the first time that he could ever remember, he wasn’t ready to leave someone’s company.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
No matter how hard Darcy looked through her books at the shop, she couldn’t find any known spells that would protect her from the Dark Fae. It didn’t help that she couldn’t stop thinking about Warrick and how he’d saved her.
The words in the book blurred as her mind went back to the night before and how he stood dripping with cold danger. His wrath was palpable, his loathing obvious. He moved quick as the wind, his motions lethal.
The Dark Fae hadn’t stood a chance. No one did if the Dragon Kings were angered.
Darcy closed the book and shoved it aside. She rose and poured herself another cup of coffee and held it between her hands as she leaned back against the desk.
Sleep had come in snatches during the night. Every sound woke her, because she knew that no matter how many protection spells she put on her flat, the Dark could get through. Not even putting the spell up to alert her if someone came into her flat helped.
On the walk into work, Darcy had expected—and hoped—to see Warrick. To her disappointment, she didn’t spot him anywhere.
She took his words to heart, however, and was vigilant. Any man who she suspected might be Fae she steered clear of. Once she reached the shop, she quickly added dozens more protection spells. They would at least give her a bit of time if a Dark did show up.
Darcy rubbed a hangnail on her finger with her thumb. She couldn’t stand long nails, so kept hers cut short at all times. She might not like her nails to grow, but she was meticulous about keeping them neat. Now that she realized the hangnail was there, it was all she could mess with.
It didn’t help that her mind was occupied between fear of the Dark and Warrick. The King had no idea how handsome he was. He’d met her gaze evenly, but there was no conceit or arrogance in his cobalt eyes.
She sighed as she thought of the deep blue color. She didn’t know blue could get so dark, or make her so weak in the knees. There was something about his eyes that trapped her, ensnared her. She could hardly look away, and when she had, it had been down to the hard line of his jaw, his wide lips, and his magnificent body.
Nudity obviously didn’t bother him as he’d stood in the middle of the Edinburgh streets uncaring if anyone saw him. She doubted there was an ounce of fat on his body. Every muscle was toned as hard as granite.
At first glance, Warrick had a reserved look. Yet the more she watched him, the more she discovered how interested he was in everything. He wasn’t obvious about it, but the curiosity was there if someone looked for it.
Darcy covered her mouth as she yawned. Then she walked to the bookcase that housed the majority of her books. There were a few she’d looked through at her flat, but none had given her information on the Fae or the Kings.
After another two hours of searching—and three cups of coffee—she slammed the book shut and shoved it back into its spot on the shelf. There was no point in looking online for spells, because they wouldn’t be there.
There were some Druids who posted spells online, but they were the simple spells for love, money, or the like. What she needed was a grimoire. Too bad she couldn’t get her hands on one, not that the Druids would ever put one together.