William stepped across the threshold and carefully set her down. She swayed and caught herself on the wall.
“Where are you going?”
“To check the house. Where else?” She pushed away from the wall and headed deeper down the hallway.
William inhaled. The scent signatures were old and his ears caught no noises. She was wasting her time.
Someone with military experience had drilled the basics of conduct in enemy territory into her. After everything they’d been through, a civilian woman should’ve landed on the first available soft surface. This one went to clear the house. She’d probably run out of steam and collapse in a minute.
The Edgers were an undisciplined, uneducated lot. They half-assed shit and got along on dumb luck and a prayer. Cerise didn’t. He didn’t know of any Edgers who could cut a body in half that way either. A very concentrated flash could have done that, but he didn’t see the telltale glowing ribbon. Besides, most Edgers couldn’t flash white, and to deliver that sort of damage, nothing less than a white flash would do.
He’d have to be careful not to underestimate the hobo queen, or it would cost him.
His ears caught a mechanical purr. The lightbulbs blinked and ignited with yellow light. She must’ve found a generator. He circled the living room, lowering the blinds.
Cerise appeared from the depths of the house. “Empty.”
He gave her an elaborate bow. “I told you.”
“I found the generator. There is a bathroom, too. The water is lukewarm but clean.”
A vision of a shower and fluffy towels presented itself to William. He nodded. “Go. The sooner you bathe, the better it is for both of us.”
The look she gave him was sharp enough to kill. She spun on her foot, picked up her bag, and headed to the bathroom. Smart. He wanted to see what was in the bag.
William searched the house, going from room to room. The place looked like someone’s vacation getaway: relatively new and full of silly crap like model boats and sea-shells. Lots of knickknacks, no signs of the wear and tear that cropped up in a place where someone actually lived. The pantry was well stocked with cans. Food was good.
William returned to the living room, dimmed the main lights, turned on a couple of smaller lamps, just enough soft light to see, and waited.
His clothes sagged on him, clammy against his skin. His wet socks chafed his feet. William pulled off his boots and the soggy mass of ruined socks, and curled his toes. The hardwood floor felt nice and cool under his feet.
A model of a sailing ship sat on a shelf. He took it down and played with the tiny lines. The ship needed some small sailors. There were a couple of old small GI Joes from his collection at home that could’ve fit . . . No, they would be too big.
How long does it take to clean up anyway?
A door swung open behind him. “Done,” Cerise announced.
He turned around and froze.
She’d lost the cap, the jacket, and the grimy jeans, and found a pair of shorts and an oversized T-shirt that hugged her breasts. Her hair, very long and dark, spilled down to her waist in a combed wave. William took in her tan face, full mouth, narrow nose, large almond eyes framed in sable eyelashes . . . The eyes laughed at him and he forgot where he was or why.
Her scent drifted down to him, her real scent mixing with the fragrance of soap. She smelled clean and soft . . . like a woman.
The wild in him lost its head, clawing at his insides.
Want. Want the woman.
“Lord Bill?” she asked.
His thoughts tumbled in a feverish cascade. Want . . . So beautiful . . . Standing so close and so beautiful. Want the woman.
“Earth to William?”
She was looking at him with those beautiful dark eyes. All he had to do was reach for her and he could touch her.
No. Wrong.
She hadn’t given him permission. If he touched, he would take her. Taking women without permission was wrong.
William pulled himself back, regaining control. The wild buckled and snarled and screamed, but he reeled it in, forcing it deeper and deeper. Remember the whip? Right, everybody remembered the whip. Everybody remembered being punished for kissing a girl without permission. The scars on his back itched, reminding him. Humans had rules. He had to follow the rules.
He was a changeling. And a changeling could never be sure if the woman wanted him unless he paid for her or she said so. This woman didn’t want him. She wasn’t taking her clothes off, she wasn’t trying to close the distance between them, and his instincts told him he couldn’t buy her.
She was off-limits.
“My turn for a shower,” he said. His voice sounded flat. William walked past her, giving her a wide berth, and forced himself to keep walking into the bathroom, where he closed the door and bolted it to lock himself in.
CERISE swallowed, listening to the sound of the water hitting the shower tiles. Her whole body hummed with tension, as if she’d just survived a fight for her life.
The look of total shock as he’d stared at her in stunned silence had been priceless. She’d almost laughed. And then William had turned feral. Something wild glared at her through his eyes, something crazy and violent and full of lust. For a second she thought she’d have to fight him off, and then it vanished, as if his internal shutters had slammed closed.
She’d knocked his socks off. She’d planned to—if he had called her a hobo queen one more time, she would’ve strangled him. But she didn’t expect . . . that.
She’d figured he might stare, maybe flirt. But he’d gone from zero to sixty in two seconds flat, as people in the Broken said. She had never seen a man do that before.
She’d never met a man who’d looked at her like that before. Like she was irresistible.