His hands found her waist, holding her lightly. “And that … upsets you this much? The thought of me dead?”
She pulled back, staring at him. Was he joking? His expression was unreadable.
“Gideon, the thought of you inside that building … it felt like being held underwater.” She lowered her gaze to the pulse at the base of his throat. “Like being starved of air.”
His hand touched her chin, bringing her eyes back to his. Studying her for a long time.
“That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
The reflection in his eyes portrayed a girl whose face was splotchy from crying, her hair a wild tangle from riding so hard. She was a mess. Still dressed in nothing but riding leathers. Not at all the girl she went to great pains to portray.
Alarmed, she drew back against the door behind her. “Merciful Ancients, I look frightful. I should get home …” Before anyone else saw her, and her reputation was damaged further.
Rune moved to step around him.
Gideon held out his hand. She walked into it, halting. Keeping his palm pressed to her stomach, he urged her gently back against the door. She glanced up and found him staring at her like she was out of her mind. “You have never been more beautiful than this moment.”
The words made her pulse kick. What?
He stepped closer. Lifting his hand to her hair, he tangled his fingers in it. “You’re exquisite, Rune.”
She swallowed. I am?
Suddenly, all concern for her reputation vanished.
“Where were you?” she said. “I asked everywhere, but no one knew what happened to you.”
“I was at the hospital, with my friend. She was hurt in the explosion.”
He smelled like smoke and gunpowder. And beneath that, Gideon.
With her back to the door, Rune tilted her face to his. “Will she be all right?”
He nodded.
The haunted shadows in his eyes were gone, leaving something raw and yearning. His tender fingers traced along her jaw, making her ache.
He was unraveling her.
You’re vulnerable, she told herself. Get Lady and ride straight back to Wintersea. Before you do something you’ll regret.
But not two minutes ago, Rune had thought she’d never see him again. And though it shouldn’t have mattered, though none of this should matter, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him.
She was like a deer making eyes at the wolf that wanted to eat her for lunch.
Stupid deer.
But she knew the fear of not having him now, and she suddenly wanted all of him. Body and soul. It was a dangerous feeling. One that could cost her everything.
Gideon lowered his mouth to hers. Her heart hammered harder. She wondered how she’d ever thought it a cruel-looking mouth. It was a very nice mouth. Reverent and devoted, wanting to please her. Rune trembled beneath it.
She was drowning, and he was air. She hadn’t even realized how much she needed him until he was gone.
“Do you want to come in?” he breathed against her lips.
The question sparked a fire inside her.
No, said her brain. But her mouth defied her.
“More than anything.”
Gideon reached for the knob beside her hip. Still kissing her, he turned it and pushed the door open, guiding her backward.
He kicked the door shut behind them.
FORTY-SEVEN
GIDEON
IT WAS UNNATURAL, THE way he wanted her. Like nothing else in the world mattered more than bringing her upstairs, peeling her out of those riding leathers, and guiding her down to the bed. Like nothing mattered more than her. Maybe it was the brush with death, but even his little brother’s feelings were suddenly of no consequence.
Rune was everything that he hadn’t believed could exist in a girl.
He wanted her, and she clearly wanted him. She told him as much when she coiled her arms around his shoulders and lifted herself onto his hips. The breath shuddered out of him. His hands tightened on her thighs, pulling her closer.
Her mouth was soft and warm. Fierce and hungry. Undoing all of his restraint.
Harrow thought his desire for Rune was nothing more than witchcraft. That it prevented him from seeing the truth.
There’s one way to find out for sure, he thought, cupping her neck. Kissing her harder.
Did you look between her thighs? Because if I were a witch hiding in plain sight, that’s definitely where I’d keep mine.
Gideon needed to get Harrow’s voice out of his head, because the thought of being between Rune’s thighs made him stop halfway up the stairs, overcome. He pinned her against the wall, breathing hard as he debated unhooking her legs from around his waist, dropping to his knees, and going down on her right here in the stairwell.
No, he thought as Rune nipped his throat, struggling to regain his senses. You don’t even know what she likes.
She might not even know what she likes.
Gideon still didn’t know if she’d ever done what they were about to do.
Start in the bed, he told himself, bringing her the rest of the way to the second floor, where he opened the door to his apartment and carried her inside. He would start there, and if he proved himself worthy of her, maybe this could be more than a game. Not just flirting and kissing and courting, but a life shared. Maybe Gideon could have all of her.
But would she want all of him?
He was terrified to even hope for it.
Start in the bed.
FORTY-EIGHT
RUNE
RUNE HAD WORKED IT all out in her head on the way up the stairs.
She was the Crimson Moth. The girl who secretly saved witches from the purge. To keep saving them, she needed a permanent source of intel. And Gideon Sharpe was that source.
She needed him.
It had nothing to do with the way he growled her name against her throat. Or the way he worshipped her with every stroke of his hands. Or the fact that he thought she was most beautiful when she was a huge mess.
Rune needed to give in to this deadly attraction because it was the best way to make her worst enemy believe, with no more doubts, that she wasn’t a witch. That she had nothing to hide.
Tonight, she would put Gideon’s suspicions to death forever.
Tonight, she would win this game once and for all.
These are the things she told herself as Gideon carried her into his apartment. She had to. Because if she didn’t, a deeper truth would come roaring to the surface. A truth that asked: What if?
What if she wasn’t a witch and he wasn’t a witch hunter?
What if this didn’t have to be pretend?
Inside, he set her down and shut the door behind them. In the momentary absence of him, Rune took in her surroundings. Pale light from the streetlamps spilled through the windows, silhouetting the spare furnishings. Rune had the strangest urge to turn on the lights and commit every shelf, floorboard, and piece of furniture to memory. As if every object might tell her a secret about him. Rune wanted to know them all.
Gideon’s hand found hers. He tugged her through a door and into the room beyond. When Rune sighted the dark outline of a bed and realized where they were, her stomach tightened. She felt like she always did before a heist: equal parts nervous and excited.
He kissed down her throat, his fingers working the clasp at the top of her riding jacket. “Promise you’ll tell me if you change your mind …”
Arching her throat, she buried her hands in his hair. “I won’t change my mind.”
“But if you do …”
“Gideon.” Close to his ear, Rune whispered: “Less talking.”
He smiled against her skin.
His hands made quick work of her buttons, and her jacket loosened. Peeling it off her, he dropped it on the floor. Rune wore only a bralette underneath, the white lace illuminated by the pale light from the street.
At the sight of it, Gideon made a rough sound in his throat. Her whole body shivered in response. Rune tugged the hem of his shirt out from where it tucked into his trousers and slid her palms underneath, skidding up his warm, solid chest.