I liked my place—it’s spare, but warm and comfortable. Thanks to magic and several cisterns, I had plenty of hot water. I got stolen electricity from lines run by my brothers, no problem for metal tinkers. I didn’t have cable or Wi-Fi, but then those could be tracked. I turned my cell off before I got anywhere near home and didn’t turn it on again until I was far away. What mail I got went to the diner, and I was always über careful about not taking the same routes home, nulling out my trace, and watching my back. And I never, ever, told anyone where I lived.
Until now.
I finished the drawing and shoved it at Price. “There you go,” I said.
I waited until he’d looked the page over, then when he looked up at me, I snatched up the page and marched into the bathroom. I ran it under the water in the sink until the ink bled away, then I shredded the wet bits between my fingers and dropped them into the toilet bowl and flushed.
“Overkill much?” Price asked from where he leaned in the doorway.
I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. I put the seat down and washed my hands, drying them on a fluffy sea-green towel.
“Habit,” I said, turning to face him. “Are we okay?”
Silence spun out, too much silence. He didn’t seem all that happy. Was it too little, too late? What else could I do? Suddenly, I needed to retreat and think.
“I haven’t showered in days. I itch and I can’t imagine how bad I must smell. So if you don’t mind shutting the door behind you, I’m going to get clean.” At least it didn’t have to be a cold shower. I was no longer ready to rip my clothes off and jump his bones.
I probably shouldn’t have been disappointed when he turned and closed the door. The only reason my eyes started watering was because I stunk so bad.
With a sigh, I opened the linen cupboard and grabbed a couple of towels and a washcloth. On one shelf was a collection of soaps, shampoos, conditioners, and lotions. By the time I reached for a bottle of honey-jasmine shampoo, I’d gone from wanting to retreat to a kind of wild desperation. I had to find a way to fix this with Price. How epically ironic. I hadn’t trusted him, and now he couldn’t trust I’d had a change of heart.
I swung open the door, then stumbled back a step when I found him standing right outside, his hands braced on the doorjamb.
He looked at me, his eyes turbulent pools. “I’ve missed you so damned much,” he grated. “Don’t run. Don’t go finding a new place to live. I won’t trespass; I won’t tell anyone. Promise me.”
At this last, the starch went out of my legs, and I sagged against the wall to hold myself up. I put my fingers over his lips to stop whatever he might say next. Every word was a knife in my heart. He wasn’t the sort of man to beg, not from anyone, not for anything. Yet I’d made him do that. Me and my paranoia and my all-about-me attitude. It had been a miracle he’d even fallen in love with me. It was a bigger miracle that he was
still
in love with me.
I needed to fix this before I broke both our hearts. Exactly how to do that was the big question. So I said the first insane thing that popped into my head. “Want to move in with me?”
His head jerked back. “That’s not funny, Riley.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be funny. It’s a bona fide offer. If you think you can stand to live with me, that is. I’m fairly house-trained, though I only have a queen-sized bed and you’ll be moving way down on the style and luxury ladder. I don’t cook and cleaning is mostly doing laundry and occasionally—”
His lips swallowed the rest of my chatter. He engulfed me, lifting me and pushing me against the wall. His hands slid down my sides to my hips to hold me. I wrapped my legs around him. We fit together like a lock and key. Bubbles spiraled through my chest. I tightened my legs, putting my arms around his neck and pulling myself tighter against him. He smelled so good.
His tongue was velvet on mine, dancing and tasting. He devoured me, twisting his head to delve deeper. I made encouraging sounds as I flexed my legs and undulated my hips up and down. Curls of aching delight rolled through my belly as I rubbed my soft heat against his hard shaft. He groaned and thrust against me, then stilled, pinning me so that I couldn’t move. He tore his lips from mine and held me there. Both of us were panting raggedly. I was barely coherent. My body was an inferno. My hair practically crackled with the flames. His breath puffed across my neck in short, hot bursts.
“I swear, you’re going to kill me,” he whispered, when he finally found his voice.
“Does that mean you’re saying no to moving in with me?” Despite the heat of his kiss, I still doubted.
“Fuck no. That’s a yes.
Yes
.” He kissed me again, hard and deep, then lifted his head and pressed his forehead against mine. “Much as I want to celebrate properly”—he rocked his cock against me, and I gasped—“neither of our brothers is going to wait much longer. Go shower. There are clothes for you in the closet.”
“You could join me,” I suggested, sliding my fingers under his shirt. His skin was hot silk.
He groaned and kissed me once more and eased away. “Don’t tempt me. You still need to recover.”
“I feel fine.” I reluctantly let my feet drop to the floor.
He rested his hands on my hips and brushed his lips against mine, flicking his tongue out like he couldn’t resist one more taste. “I love you.”
“Do your best to remember that later.”
He scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I widened my eyes and blinked and did my best to look innocent. “Just what it sounded like. You might get distracted and forget that you love me. Try not to.”
“Why would I forget?” he asked, his voice turning dangerous as he enunciated each word with careful precision.
“Because I hear that happens when a person goes homicidal.”
“I think I’m going to strangle you,” he said, looking up at the ceiling like a divine light of patience would suddenly pour down over him. No such luck.
“Likely,” I said. “If you don’t drown me or shoot me first.”
“I swear to God you’re trying to drive me around the bend, over the edge, and out of my ever-loving mind. You’re damned good at it, too.”
“Thank you. I think,” I said, putting my hands flat on his chest. “Seriously, though. I got into some trouble in the tunnels. I also learned something ugly. Really ugly. Just remember I’m out safe, and don’t dwell on that part, okay? Because I’m going to need you to be, well, you. Focused, sharp, relentless, and stone-cold.”
He glared at me. “Why don’t you stop beating around the bush and tell me just what the hell happened?”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to have to tell it twice, and your brother needs to hear it, too. Same with Madison and Leo. They don’t know the whole yet, either.” I remembered the fumigation. I wanted to be checked out to be sure there was no permanent damage from the SD. There was only one dreamer I trusted to go into my head and check. “Can you get Cass here?”
Price’s brows rose. “Why?”
“I might need her.”
“God dammit, Riley. Are you going to explain or am I going to have to guess?”
Would it have been asking too much of the universe at that point to have Touray come barging in and interrupt Price’s interrogation? Or maybe a squad of ninjas could have overrun the place. I glanced hopefully at the door, but it remained closed and unassailed. We were wasting more time arguing than not, so I gave in.
“Fine. You win. Here is the nutshell version: Fact 1: Sparkle Dust can be made from the bodies of wraiths. Fact 2: I was exposed to SD. I think I nulled it out of my body, but I’m not sure. I’d like Cass to check me out. Fact 3: Whoever kidnapped me in dreamspace tried to make me think your brother killed my mother, which is really ridiculous, and why anybody would think I’d fall for that I don’t know—”
“Stop.” Price’s face had gone pasty gray. He lifted his hand and ran his fingertips over my cheek. They trembled. “You were exposed to SD?”
I nodded. “They call it fumigating. They put you in a chamber and pipe in an aerosol version of the drug. It turns you into an addict, but the process of becoming a wraith is slower. Makes you a loyal lapdog willing to do most anything in the hope you’ll get a fix.”
“But you—
nulled
it out?” He scrutinized me, examining my eyes, skin, tongue, and teeth, searching for the telltale signs of becoming a wraith. Not that I would be turning yet. I didn’t think. “That’s not possible.”
“That’s what I thought. I invoked the null when the fumes were just starting to infiltrate. There’s a magical component to SD. It makes sense that it could be nulled. Took a lot of power, though, and it hurt.” I shuddered at the memory. “I don’t know if I could have nulled it after it had a chance to take root in me. I don’t know if I’d have wanted to.”
Price crushed me to him, burying his head in my neck. Just as quickly, he let go and spun away. His back and shoulders knotted as he pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead. Without another word, he strode away and out the door, shutting it hard behind him.
I stared after him, my stomach sinking down into my feet. Fear etched away the warmth of his touch until I shivered with the cold. Price didn’t even know about Percy burning me, yet. Maybe I should duct-tape him down before I revealed that little bit of news. Otherwise, he might go off to wreak vengeance on his own.
Unless . . . I glanced again at the door. Unless he was already on his way.
Chapter 13
The shower did a lot to revive me, though it did nothing for my anxiety about Price. I washed quickly and got out, hoping to track him down.
I found jeans and long-sleeved shirts in the closet, all new, all in my size. There was pretty much an entire wardrobe for me in there, including bras, underwear, and socks. As I was dressing in the closet—which was also big enough to contain a sitting area with a love seat and a couple of chairs—I caught the divine scent of coffee. Where there was coffee, maybe there was Price. I hurriedly put on socks and followed the airy trail of nirvana.
I went out the other side of the massive closet and through a pair of frosted glass double doors. On the other side was a spacious room containing all the comforts a guest might want, including a gas fireplace, an enormous television, fluffy couches and chairs, and most important of all, coffee.
Nobody else was there. I decided to grab a cup of joe before going in search of Price. It was more medication than vice. I went to the sideboard and filled a cup, stirring in a healthy dose of sugar and cream. I inhaled the rich fragrance and sipped. Ambrosia.
“I think we should talk, don’t you?”
I jumped and gave a little shriek before spinning around. Coffee sloshed onto the thick blue and ivory rug. Gregg Touray stood just inside the doorway, looking malevolent. I could see the resemblance between him and Price. They both had black hair, pale skin, and a potent intensity that made it difficult to breathe around them. But where Price was like a mountain lion, Touray was more a bear. Slabs of heavy muscle bulged beneath his gray sweater. Lines fanned from around his hooded black eyes. Demons moved beneath the obsidian, inexorable and menacing. I forced myself not to squirm beneath his scrutiny.
“Couldn’t you warn a girl?” I demanded, looking for something to wipe up the mess. “Where did you come from, anyhow?”
“I was waiting for you,” he said, nudging his chin toward a chair in the corner I hadn’t noticed.
I set my mostly empty cup on the tray and grabbed a handful of napkins.
“Leave it,” he ordered. “Someone will take care of it later. We don’t have a lot of time. Your brother is eager to see you. He won’t wait much longer.”
“I’m surprised he isn’t knocking down the door,” I said, ignoring his orders and cleaning up what I could. Afterward, I prepared another cup of coffee. My stomach was doing flip-flops. I leaned back against the sideboard and eyed Touray over the rim of my cup.
He’d taken a seat in one of the cushiony chairs in the middle of the room. He watched me. His look sliced me like a scalpel, peeling me back to reveal my insides.
Even though I was determined not to, I broke the silence first. “Something in particular that you wanted?”
“Yes.”
I waited for him to clarify, edify, or otherwise explain, but he just kept looking at me with that smothering gaze. I sipped my coffee and forced myself to breathe.
“Sit down,” he said, pointing at the chair across from him, and then said, “please,” as an afterthought.
I topped off my coffee and obeyed. The truth was that he scared me almost as much as Percy did. They were peas in a pod: businessmen who didn’t mind killing and maiming to get what they wanted. Touray claimed that he was trying to stamp out the bloody territory wars that had been increasing among the Tyet over the last few years. For Price’s sake, I was trying to believe it, but mostly all I saw was a thug in a cashmere sweater.
He tipped his head. “You don’t like me much, do you?”
I cradled my coffee in my hands and hoped he couldn’t tell that I was shaking. “Can’t say I know you that well. What I do know I find . . . unpleasant.” Terrifying. Malevolent. “You did, after all, lock me in a cage and then tried to force me to work for you.”
He smiled. The expression sent a chill down my spine.
“Fair enough.” He said nothing after that, just watching me drink.
My heart revved into high gear, and my lungs contracted so that I could hardly breathe. “My, what big teeth you have,” I muttered.
“What did you say?”
I gave him a level look, deciding I might be afraid, but I didn’t have to be chicken. “I said, get on with it already. Flay me, fry me, fricassee me, but quit playing the menace-me-to-death game.”
“Fricassee you?” His brows rose, and he grinned. It changed his face. If he learned to do that all the time, he could hide his true nature. He’d be tearing out his enemies’ throats before they ever knew they were supposed to fear him.
“What?” he asked, reading more on my face than I wanted to show. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
You’d think I’d have learned self-preservation by now. I’d had years of successful practice, and Percy had definitely taught me a lesson on spouting stupid like Old Faithful spouts water. A lesson I clearly needed to work on because my mouth started moving before I could stop it. “When I first met you, when you had me locked in that cage and didn’t realize yet what I could do as a tracer, you decided to kill me. Do you remember?”
He cocked his head. “I don’t believe I ever said any such thing.”
Not denial. “You didn’t say it, but it was all over your face. Price was telling you how he’d hired me and how I’d got shot. Somewhere in there you figured out he had feelings for me, and you weren’t going to let some girl come between the two of you. Do you deny it?”
“All right. Suppose, for the sake of conversation, that I did make a decision to kill you. Obviously I didn’t. Water under the bridge, no harm no foul, and all that. What does it matter now?”
He might as well have been discussing his golf game or what he wanted for breakfast, for all the emotional investment he had in the subject.
Ha!
The subject. Killing me.
“It matters because you’re as cold-blooded as they come. Just because you haven’t killed me yet doesn’t mean you won’t get around to it today or tomorrow or next year. So don’t bullshit me with the friendly act. I don’t believe it anyway. I’d prefer you say what you came to say and then we can go to our separate corners and get on with the fight.”
“You’re very direct.”
I shrugged. “My mother was murdered before she could teach me tact. My dad didn’t seem to think it was a survival skill.”
Touray’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, you said you knew that I didn’t murder her. I didn’t realize I was a candidate. Explain.”
“When I was in the dreamspace, I had a vision of her murder. You starred as the killer.”
His brows rose almost to his hairline. “A vision? And me the murderer? Explain.”
Even the thought of replaying the killing of my mother made my stomach churn. “I’d rather wait until I can tell everyone at once. Maybe we should do that now. Where’s Price?”
“I haven’t seen him since I left him with you.”
Crap. I started to get up. “I’d better find him.”
“Clay’s in love with you,” Touray said baldly.
That took the air right out of me. I sank back down and drew in a slow breath, trying to ease my impending stroke. I cataloged my symptoms: adrenaline rush, spinning head, dry mouth, pounding heart, trolls dancing on my bladder, and a desperation to dig a hole and climb inside. People paid a lot of money to feel this way. They jumped out of planes and climbed mountains without ropes and swam with sharks. I was getting the thrill of walking on the edge of life and death for free.
“So he tells me,” I said, eying Touray warily.
“My brother has always been self-contained. He relies only on himself,” he went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “His romantic entanglements have always been strictly physical. When I first met you, I assumed it was business as usual. You had little enough in common. You both found yourselves in a dire situation. It is unsurprising you fell into bed. A physical outlet relieves stress, and no doubt it was enjoyable for you both. At any rate, when you cut ties six weeks ago, I expected he’d forget you and move on. I was”—he waved a hand at an invisible fly—“incorrect.”
He paused like he was expecting a response. I had nothing. I just nodded. That was safe enough.
“He’s hurting. I don’t like to see him hurting.” He scowled.
I could get behind that. I licked my lips. “Me neither.” I could have said something about him being the wedge driving me and Price apart, but that elephant was already stomping around the room.
He looked down at his hands, opening and closing them in his lap. “I believe you share my brother’s feelings, but obviously have your doubts about me. I want to clear any obstacles you may have imagined.”
He leaned forward. I leaned back. I couldn’t help it. The man may not have intended to be threatening, but he was still doing a good job of it.
“Let me make myself very clear so there’s no possibility of misunderstanding: while you are with my brother, you are family. I assure you that you have nothing to fear from me. No harm will come to you from me, and I will protect you as I would Clay.” His lips curved in a scythe smile. “Whether you like it or not.”
Oh. Fuck. I suppressed my whimper. You’d think having him on my side would make him less scary. Nope. Not even a little. “I don’t need protecting.”
He lifted a brow. “No?”
“No.” I wished my response didn’t sound so much like a question.
He tipped his head. “Odd. From the story that Leo and Madison have been telling about your adventures underground, I would have argued otherwise.” Again that taunting smile. He’d moved on from his guilt over me and Price and was enjoying messing with me.
Stress destroys any filter on my mouth I might ordinarily lay claim to. “I’m sure you have dicey moments in your line of work,” I said. “Do you have a nanny running around after you keeping you from running out into the street?”
“So you admit you were in danger?”
“Duh. Of course I was. In fact, you have no idea,” I said airily. “Leo and Madison don’t even know. Suicide was starting to look like a good option.”
He blinked, his arrogance unsettled by my ready admission. A predatory tension ran through his body, like he was readying himself to strike. “So you agree you need protection.”
“Nope. Though I could use a small army. Got one of those I could borrow for a bit?”
His brows drew together. I’d thrown him off balance again. I took no small measure of pride in that. I had a feeling it wasn’t easy to surprise him.
“I don’t understand.”
“You said Leo and Madison filled you in. I’m assuming they told you about her uncle.”
He nodded. “Percy Caldwell.”
“Actually, it’s George Percival James Borden Caldwell the fourth. I might be missing a name or two. I was a little out of it when I met him, and he was burning me with cigarettes. That hurts, by the way.”
In the space of a breath, he went from calm to nova. The rage roiling inside him stole the oxygen out of the air. His eyes went feral and deadly. It was like staring down an F5 tornado. My stomach curled in fear. Every instinct I had told me to flee, to get out of his way. If he reacted this way, what was Price going to do? And Leo?
“He what?” he said, leaning forward, his voice grating like tearing metal.
I pressed back against my seat, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut, at least until I had friends in the room.
“He wanted to teach me a lesson. So he burned my arms. I used a heal-all. I’m fine. All better. No worries.”
“I will cut him open and strangle him with his own intestines,” Touray said in a toneless voice.
I had a bad feeling he wasn’t exaggerating. “Feel free,” I said, collecting myself. “He needs to be dead.” I raised a brow at him. “If you don’t change your mind.”
“Why would I? I told you; you’re family. No one touches you and lives.”
Just what I needed: a new big brother with a homicidal streak. “Did Madison tell you what he’s up to?” I asked.
His scowl deepened as I shifted the subject. “He makes Sparkle Dust. Not exactly news to me.”
“Do you know
how
he makes it?” I hoped not. Because whatever respect I could ever have for him hinged on that answer.
He shook his head. “No one knows the secret.” He leaned forward again, eyes lasering through me. “I take it you
do
know?”
“I know enough to want to drop a nuclear bomb into the tunnels to put a stop to it.” My jaw jutted. “I’d like to think you weren’t interested in taking over his business.”
Touray recoiled. His cheeks flushed red, and if I thought he was pissed before, I was wrong. He thrust out of the chair and leaned over me, bracing his hands on the arms of my chair so that I couldn’t escape. He dropped his head so that we were nose to nose. His eyes glittered like black diamonds. It was all I could do not to slide down into the chair.
“Never, ever, suggest to me or anyone else that I support or condone the SD trade,” he said, though I’m not sure how he was able to get the words out through his clenched teeth. “I will forgive you your ignorance once, but never again. Understand?”
“Because we’re family now and you’ll protect me unless I piss you off?” Oh, good, Riley. Way to poke the raging bear with a sharp stick. Maybe I should just have my mouth sewn shut. It would probably add years to my life.
He jerked away, his chest heaving as he stood above me. His hands clenched and unclenched, and I was pretty sure he was wishing they were around my throat. I stared up at him, refusing to back down now that I’d walked across the coals this far. You were supposed to be able to trust family not to kill you when you pissed them off. It was time for him to put his money where his mouth was.
For a second I wanted to giggle. I mean, talk about jumping on the trust wagon with both feet. First I ask Price to move in with me, and then I piss off his merciless and cold-blooded brother and expect him not to hurt me hard. At least I should get points for style.