Lor went flying backward through the air, roared, and lunged for me again.
I kept firing until he hit the ground and didn’t move anymore.
I watched him until his body vanished, then ground out, “I trust I made my point,” and sifted back to BB&B.
When I returned to the bookstore—Barrons hadn’t dropped the wards but I’d given it wide berth this time, appearing well out in the street—he was sitting on the Chesterfield in the dark, waiting for me.
He assessed me and relaxed minutely. Things went well?
As well as could be expected, I suppose, I told him with a shrug.
His eyes narrowed. He heard you out?
I joined him on the sofa and snorted. “Oh, he definitely heard me out. I was nearly done by the time he started choking me.” As I stared at him through the low light, a wave of raw, desperate lust flooded me. I needed. Him. Now. Kneeling on the cushions, I grabbed his head and kissed him, falling on top of him, taking him back to the sofa beneath me. My body was bristling with energy and savagery and frustration because I’d really wanted to come to a meeting of the minds with Lor, not have to resort to killing him, but I suspected anything less than killing him simply wouldn’t have gotten his attention. And killing him had left something wild in me that needed to be let out.
Barrons understood and met it in kind.
Later, I lay in his arms, head on his chest, listening to the peculiar sound of absolutely no heartbeat, and knew he’d leave before long.
That was okay. I’d dumped a pent-up storm of emotion on his body, punished him with it and let him punish me in return. We ran the full range of sexual appetites in bed, from tender to tortured, white bread to dark, nutty stuff, and it was all good. We were young, strong, and unbreakable.
I was fairly certain Barrons was drifting in that deeply inward meditative state he sometimes sought and was just about to drift off myself when he jolted me awake by saying softly, “Lor choked you?”
I smiled against his cool skin. He always got cool when his heart stopped beating. This was my man—testosterone rising, ready to turn on his comrades for harming me. But it was unnecessary. I’d held my own. “Yes.”
Deep in his chest an atavistic rattle stirred. “I told you that barrier wasn’t going to be strong enough. Fae magic doesn’t work on us.”
“Cruce’s shield worked on you and the Unseelie princess’s magic worked on Lor in Ryodan’s office.”
“I told you why his did. The princess’s only worked on Lor because the Sweeper altered her. And that’s one fuck we need to get rid of. Not the princess. She’s well enough out of the way for now.”
He fell silent and I began to drift again, wondering distantly why the Sweeper was beyond the laws that applied to the Nine. I’d eventually get around to asking but not now. It was peaceful. I was sleepy. And I had no doubt tomorrow would be another eventful day.
As I was fading, he jarred me awake again with an impatient growl, “Are you going to tell me what the bloody hell you did or do I have to I go find Lor?”
Oooh! We were firmly ensconced in a new phase of our relationship. I beamed. Barrons wanted to know something, hated having to ask, and asked anyway. And it wasn’t about an OOP or anything business related. Nor was he dashing off to beat up Lor and avenge the fair damsel. I liked these changes. Sleepily, I mumbled, “I killed him. What did you think I did?”
Barrons stiffened, went motionless then stiffened again, dislodging me from his chest, jarring me fully awake. He propped his head on a fist, making all those gorgeous muscles bunch, and stared down at me, the corners of his mouth twitching.
“Oh, give it up. You know you want to. Just do it. I know you’re badass. An occasional laugh won’t disabuse me of the notion.”
Eyes glittering with mirth, he demanded, “How?”
I told him.
He threw his head back and laughed, white teeth flashing in his dark face.
I lay back on the couch, watching him, reached up and touched his lips, and he kissed them then bit gently. Then harder.
Then he was on me again like a sirocco, gusting over and inside me, taking me down and deep to that beautiful wild place we go when we’re alone and free.
When he finally got up to leave, the bookstore was carpeted with lush, fragrant flowers and a small tree was blossoming near the sofa.
My life was strange.
Good. But strange.
MAC
I blew out a frustrated breath and rubbed my eyes.
I was tired and hung over, and what a load of bullshit that was. I could handle pretty much anything, but I still needed time to recover from chasing beers with tequila.
Admittedly, I’d chased a lot of beers with a lot of tequila. But late last night when Alina texted and I remembered my promise to meet her, there was no way I was missing a chance to hang out in Temple Bar with my sister.