Under a Spell

I couldn’t push the word dead past my lips. I couldn’t attach the two—Lorraine and death—but I couldn’t get the image of her pale face so peaceful, so calm—so marred by that velvety drip of blood out of my mind.

 

“She’s going to be fine. She has a broken back, but there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of internal damage.” Will chuckled. “It was an interesting one to try and explain away, though.”

 

I let the tears drip silently. They slid down my cheeks and into my ears, and I couldn’t stop them. “She’ll never forgive me,” I whispered. “And Kale, Kale will never forgive me.”

 

Will pressed a thumb across my cheek and picked up a tear. “Neither of them will blame you. They knew—probably better than any of the rest of us—what they were getting into. Lorraine said herself that we were dealing with someone very powerful.”

 

I sniffed. “And we still don’t even know who it is. Do we?”

 

Will shook his head and brushed another tear from my cheek. “No, love, I’m afraid we don’t. The whole being blown across the room then having our star investigator pass out on us kind of flattened the investigation.”

 

I sat up. “Okay. Okay.” I shoved down my blankets and went to swing my legs over the side of the bed before being hit with a solid wall of Will’s well-muscled arms.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Will gently took my bare legs, pinned them together, and swung them back under the covers. “I’m taking care of my charge.” He tucked the sheet tightly—cozily, if I had to admit it—around my legs, up around my hips, and then paused at my waist.

 

“Will!” I squealed. “We have a case!”

 

“And you had a blackout. Lorraine is with Kale; she’s is resting, and Nina and I are working out there.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the living room. “Vlad is off licking his wounds somewhere and you are in here, getting some sleep.”

 

“I passed out, Will. It’s not a big deal. I’ve been tired and I—”

 

Will pressed a single hand against my shoulder and looked at me, his eyes like liquid amber, swirling, churning, and pulling me in. “You didn’t just pass out, love. We couldn’t revive you. The doctors couldn’t revive you for seven minutes. They couldn’t even tell us what happened.” I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “It was terrifying.”

 

I blinked, feeling the weight of his eyes.

 

“I am not kidding around with you, Sophie Lawson.” His fingers went around tucking my blankets tighter. “You’re staying in this bed.” There was a flicker at the edge of his mouth as he hid a smile. “Get out, and I’ll be dragging you into mine—if only to keep an eye on you.”

 

“Will!” I started to sit up again, but there was something in his eyes that let me know that he really wasn’t joking. I closed my mouth silently and let him gather me to him as he carefully laid me down and pulled the blankets up to my chin. Will had always been the goofy, cheeky one so his tenderness was a surprise—and I was surprised how much I was enjoying his arms around me.

 

“Come on, now,” he whispered. He curled himself behind me and I could smell his cologne—the cut-grass scent faint, but clean smelling—on his chest as he pressed against me. He made me feel small and, if only for a few moments, safe.

 

I wasn’t sure exactly when I drifted off to sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Fourteen

 

 

I could still hear his breath when I woke up. It was fast and hot, and had just the slightest scent of . . . Alpo.

 

“ChaCha?”

 

She jumped up happily on her Popsicle-stick legs and pranced over my shoulder, nuzzling the spot between my neck and chest and giving me an enormous, salutary lick from chin to eyebrows.

 

“Thank you, baby,” I grumbled, scratching my pooch behind the ears. “Did I imagine you were a big, strong man last night? Did I dream that you were Uncle Will?”

 

“Uncle Will, huh?”

 

He was in my doorway in a towel slung so low around his waist it should have been a sin, with a bare chest and a decadent smile. I was face forward on the carpet, feeling the draft from my nightshirt shoved up around my waist when I fell out of bed. I scrambled over, yanking my Giants nightshirt down toward my ankles.

 

“Why did you shower here? You live right across the hall.”

 

Will tousled his damp hair. “But my shampoo doesn’t smell like mangoes.”

 

I rolled my eyes as he gestured to my hands holding fistfuls of black and orange fabric. “You know I’ve seen all that before, right?”

 

I blushed right up to my eyebrows.

 

“You may have, but that was a long time ago.”

 

Will grinned, and the heat kept up. He tapped an index finger against the side of his head. “Good thing I’ve got a hell of a memory, huh?”

 

I yanked my comforter from my bed and rolled myself up in it, standing. “Shouldn’t we get to work? We still have a case to solve, don’t we?”

 

Will raised his eyebrows. “We were all just sitting around waiting for the queen to grace us with her consciousness.”

 

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