The last time Layla had walked down this miserable street she’d lost her life. This time, she had it all in front of her. To her left was a wide concrete slab, and across the way, much farther, a cargo ship, crane reaching over its hull. Massive blue and orange cargo containers had occupied the lot near the warehouse. Now it was empty, and she could see all the way to the choppy, gray river. Parked on the street, to her surprise, was her car. Nobody had stolen it, after all.
This was the place. He had to be here.
A rusted smear of blood near the doorknob made her pause, but the frame was still broken, so she pushed the door open and peeked inside. The place was as dark as she remembered, though now a white-blue light flickered in the depths of the large space, like a fluorescent trying to come on. And then the light went out entirely.
Layla crept forward, keeping to the dark.
An extended male roar of frustration and the light burst into existence again, a plasma of blue violet tossed up into the air, battering the darkness. Magic.
Had to be him. Layla advanced, trying hard to keep each footstep soundless. That weird bursting feeling almost overcame her again when she saw his silhouette—his tall, strong body braced, one arm extended, palm flat as he coaxed the light to maximum brightness, the other arm outstretched behind him, for balance. His long hair was in a ratty knot away from his face. Poor man was finally learning what a hassle that hair was going to be. No way on earth she’d let him cut it, though.
Shadowman. Mortal?
She was three paces from him, but he still didn’t notice. His body shook with the effort he used to create the magic light. From this close she smelled his sweat, dark, a little funky, and totally human. Which made her grin and go warm all over, in spite of the cold.
Screw it. She stepped up beside him, pretending to concentrate on the light, though all of her attention was on him.
“So what are we doing?” she asked lightly, rocking back and forth, heel to toe, on her feet.
He reeled back and the light went out. She thought he fell on his ass, but since she couldn’t see, she couldn’t be sure.
“You okay, honey?” She tried to keep the laugh from her voice. Really, she did.
A blue flame burst to life, held in his palm while he, yes, was half sprawled in shock on the warehouse floor. Strands of tangled hair fell in his eyes. His shirt, a long-sleeve tee, was ripped on the side, his abs nicely flexed beneath. An unlaced shoe had come off. Didn’t look like he knew how to tie the laces.
“Need help up?” Layla held out her hand. The bursting feeling grew painful. Crap, she was going to cry again.
“Layla?” The “la” was hoarse. He’d gone and ruined his voice.
“That’s me.” Her grin got wider, in spite of the tears in her eyes.
His face grew paler, expression dismayed. The poor man didn’t blink, but he did start shaking. How long had it been since he’d had anything to eat?
Layla knelt on the floor, reached toward him.
He flinched.
She softened her tone. “It’s just me. See?”
Kneeling on all fours, she leaned forward, their faces close. His black eyes went wide and wild, searching hers. “Hi,” she said. And then she touched her lips to his. His mouth was warm, firm, oh so real. She breathed him in, reveled in the return press, and gave him her soul.
He groaned, a lost, hurt sound. And the warehouse went pitch dark again. She was grabbed none too gently, dragged onto his lap, pinned with one tight arm around her, while his other hand roved, maybe checking for all the right parts, before settling at the nape of her neck.
Finally, he kissed her back, mouth moving against hers, devouring, tasting. Pulling back to feather with gentleness, skim satin on satin, before crushing her to him again.
And still he shook, but now he shook them both.
Layla shifted. Scruffed her cheek on his five o’clock beard. Yep. Mortal.
His breath was uneven. His heart was pounding against her.
“Shhhh.” Layla squeezed him tight. She’d thought to surprise him, and she guessed she had. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”
“I’ve gone mad, yes?” he said in the dark.
“No, actually, you just went missing”—Layla cuddled closer—“and weren’t there for my triumphant return.”
“I don’t believe it.”
She chuckled. “I’ve got two cars outside, my piece of crap, thank you very much, and a Segue loaner. How about we get to a safer location—Rose went full lizard, by the way—and I can convince you there?”
“Are you here? Do you live?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I am. And you bet, I sure do.”
“And Moira?” His voice broke again.
“I tricked her. I beat Fate.” Layla laughed. “Boy, is she pissed at me.”
“But . . . how?”
She pulled back. Arched an eyebrow to tease. “I’ll tell you all about it on the way. Devil’s on the loose. We’ve really got to go.”