“You’re staying here right now.” Aiyanna’s sculpted eyebrow lifted.
“If it gets you away from him, then I’ll find a hotel,” Theo responded. He smiled, a genuine attempt to revive the mood. “I’ll let you pick it.”
This time Aiyanna openly regarded Cael, her amber eyes almost pleading. She needed him to say he wanted her, to tell Theo she would be at the firehouse because he was there. Sophia knew that longing because she felt the same when she was with Heath, willing him to tear down even a fraction of the walls he’d built to keep others out.
But Cael said nothing. His expression was more frigid than Sophia imagined Heath was capable of.
Aiyanna stood, looking down at Theo, her hands fisted on her curvy hips. “You don’t tell me where I can go, who I can talk to,” she said in a dangerously low tone. “I’m a grown-ass powerful shifter, and no one has ever told me what to do and gotten away with it.”
She didn’t glance at Cael as she left the room, but Sophia saw him take in the tear running down her cheek.
He, Theo, and Mary rose at the same time to follow her.
“Drama.” Alex grinned. “Makes you appreciate me, huh ladies?”
“What a stud you are, Alexandre,” Sophia said sarcastically.
I don’t know, Leila signed, a thoughtful expression on her face. Maybe arguments keep things fresh.
“Hey!”
Leila laughed silently, hitting his shoulder with hers. I’m only kidding; I much prefer your company than anyone else’s. She smiled, her honesty apparent.
Alexandre preened.
Feeling as if she was encroaching on a moment not meant for her eyes, Sophia was wishing someone, anyone would walk in when Sebastian and Raphael entered with Briony and Harry in tow, each holding a massive bag of take-out. She followed them into the kitchen, where they set down the food.
“Where’s Mary?” Raphael asked with a frown.
She was here, but chased after Aiyanna when Theo and Cael pissed her off, Leila signed.
Raphael was out the door a moment later, off to find his mate.
Alexandre grabbed a bag of food and jerked his head toward the door. Smiling broadly, Leila took his hint and left with him, her arm barely brushing his.
Busy observing them, Sophia was startled when Sebastian gripped her shoulders, looking her over with a critical eye. He visibly relaxed when he saw no obvious injuries. “Are you okay? I heard you and Heath were attacked.”
“I’m tired, but completely unharmed thanks to Aiyanna.” She did a quick twirl to emphasize her point. “They were bent on killing Heath—it wasn’t me they were after.”
“Why would anyone try and hurt him?” Sebastian seemed bewildered.
“What, you didn’t know?”
Both of them turned to Briony, who was rooting through the boxes of food. She looked up from her search, eyes wide with surprise. “It’s in his aura; impending danger is just as present as his anger. I thought it was the reason behind the rage, but I guess not,” she finished lightly.
She sighed happily when she found what she was looking for: a veggie patty hot dog covered in bright vegetables. Sophia swore she smelled sweet potato.
“Are those alfalfa sprouts?” Sebastian asked, looking mildly horrified.
Briony nodded as she chewed. Smiling, she held out half of her hot dog to Sebastian. “Want to try it?”
“No, thanks.” He shook his head.
Sophia pulled out her own hot dog; she was starving, having eaten nothing since breakfast. Her brother ignored the food, watching Briony eat her vegetarian meal with a quiet intensity Sophia had never seen him aim toward a woman before.
Interesting, she thought. Never would she have guessed Briony was Sebastian’s type. They didn’t talk much about who they dated, but the few women she’d seen on Sebastian’s arm were always thin, with perfect makeup, not a hair out of place. Sleek is the term she would have used.
Briony was quite the opposite of those women, and yet Sebastian couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from her. Sophia smiled, hoping her brother would find happiness. If the rest of the pack were in the same boat as Heath, they all had hard roads ahead of them.
“Any more of us that you’ve met who have strange auras?”
Briony stilled for a moment, deeply in thought. Instead of answering directly, she nodded at Harry, who was eating his third hot dog, eyeing a fourth.
“Tell him what you think, Harry.”
The younger witch swallowed, his hair brightening, indicating his mood moving into an upswing. “You’re obviously in danger too,” he said to Sophia, frowning apologetically, “and so are you, Sebastian; although, I’m not sure if someone is after you specifically, or the danger is simply because you’ll try and stand between Sophia and anyone with lethal intent.
“Aiyanna’s aura is really strange too, but I don’t quite understand why, and of course yours is probably the most ominous, but you know that,” he said to Briony conversationally.
“Mine is only the most ominous at this moment,” Briony corrected him mildly, pulling a beer from the refrigerator. “That can change in the blink of an eye.” She smiled and snapped her fingers. “Speaking of, your flowers brightened my day. Thank you.”
Sophia nodded, but Sebastian ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stand on end. Ever since they were children, he would gesture that way when he was anxious, as if he could pull the information he needed right out of his head. At the rate he was going, he would render himself bald by Thanksgiving.
Sebastian was choosing a woman in mortal danger. Not to mention he would worry about Sophia, whether or not she wanted him to. She released a heavy sigh. The men around here seriously needed a break. The irony was, even though Sebastian had bought a beach house, he couldn’t travel that far outside the city to use it.
“We need to talk.” Sebastian scowled at Briony. He was upset, but not surprised by Harry’s revelation. The witch only inclined her head, almost glowing with happiness, though her smile was slight. She just seemed happy he would talk to her at all.
Sophia decided she liked the other woman. After all, she’d saved her twice in less than twenty-four hours. She reminded herself to offer Briony help, once they were away from her brother. She didn’t want to talk to the witch in front of him—something told her he would try and solve all of Briony’s problems himself, like he’d tried to with Sophia’s for their entire lives. Men.
“What did Éloy ask of you in return for his help today?” She thought they needed a subject change, and she had a bet to win. She really didn’t want to be indebted to Heath, but she was curious about what he’d have her do.
Not that it would be an issue—she knew she was right. The Fey didn’t drink beer, especially not beer created for humans.
“He wants a few hundred thousand dollars’ worth of beer,” Sebastian answered. Sophia’s gut clenched. Damn.
“Sounds like a wicked party.” Harry saluted them, taking a pull from his own beer.
“It’s business,” Sebastian said, unabashed. “I expected worse, to be honest. What did he give you?”
Sophia told them about Christabel, the gun, and the ammunition.
“Cold iron,” Briony murmured, her eyes far away. She snapped back into reality with a jerk, sending Sebastian and Sophia an affectionate look. “He must truly trust you.”
“What are you talking about?” Sophia asked at the same time Sebastian muttered, “I’ve known about the iron thing for a while.”
At Sophia’s arch look, he said, “Iron hurts the Fey worse than anything else. If the rumor about werewolves and silver were true, then it would be the same concept for faeries and iron.”
Werewolves weren’t hurt by silver per se, but many bloodlines that produced generations of weres were allergic to the metal, often passing on the gene to their children and those they turned were. It wasn’t a completely untrue rumor, but one that only applied to a small portion of the werewol
f population.
Sophia had had no idea the Fey had such an Achilles’ heel. Briony was right—Éloy had trusted them by giving them such a weapon.
“I want to look at the gun I’m paying for,” Sebastian said wryly. “Where is it?”
“Heath has it.” Sophia rose, grabbing two hot dogs and a box with four more. “I’ll go tell him you want to see it and bring him his food.”
Sebastian nodded. “If you see anyone else, tell them we’re eating the rest of this if they don’t get their asses in here soon.”
“Will do,” Sophia murmured around a mouth full of crawfish sausage dog. She devoured her first and half of her second walking up the two flights of stairs to Heath’s room. Wiping the crumbs from her hands, she made her way to his door, but knew from the silence and lack of his scent that he wasn’t inside. He was in the house, and she was closer than she’d been downstairs in the kitchen, so she took the stairs until they ended, bringing her to the roof.
It wasn’t late by any means, but the season caused the darkness to fall like a thick blanket, making the sky just as opaque at eight as it would be at midnight. Fairy lights hung over her head, hanging from poles on either side of the building. A chilled wind hit Sophia hard, shaking the lights and making her glad she’d brought Heath’s jacket with her. Slipping it on over her sweatshirt, she went over to where Heath sat on a loveseat, his feet propped up on the railing outlining the edge of the roof. The rifle sat on a small glass table, resting next to his left elbow.
“I come bearing food.” She held up the box and conveyed Sebastian’s message.
“Smells like that came from Frenchmen Street.” Interest lit Heath’s eyes.
“That’s where it’s from,” she answered, smiling when he took the box from her and dug into his food. She didn’t know New Orleans nearly as well as he did, but Frenchmen was one street she wouldn’t mistake.
“You won the bet.” She took a seat next to him, her eyes roving over the skyline with interest. She could hear sirens far away and car horns honking closer. A young couple was strolling nearby, holding hands even as they argued.
Farther away than she could see, she heard people out and about, talking, laughing and drinking.
In Canada, people avoided going outside for long periods of time during this season. There would be a thick layer of snow coating the city, the cold driving everyone toward warmth, the glow of a fireplace.
Heath paused for a moment to glance at her with narrowed eyes, but he said nothing. Sophia waited until he was finished eating to ask the question burned into her mind.
“So what do you want?” There were so many things he could ask of her, but she wasn’t afraid. No, she wanted to understand the purpose behind his request, a clue to help her unravel the labyrinth that was Heath Frazier.
He stood at her words, stalking toward her on long legs. He braced his hands on either side of her head, lowering himself so their eyes were level.
“I want you, tonight,” he said, his voice low, hungry. He was completely serious; his eyes were determined, his full mouth set.
Sophia lifted her hand, running it through his straight, shoulder-length hair. He didn’t flinch at her touch, his gaze attentive. Even though she knew he was looking at her with an intensity that would have normally sent her running, she felt as if something else, something other, was also eyeing her carefully.
Unnerved, but not about to let it show, she ran her hands over his broad shoulders, around to the back of his neck where she squeezed gently, causing him to hiss quietly. It was when he took her hand in his, his gentleness completely unexpected, that she saw it.
The eye tattooed on the back of his hand was watching her anxiously, fearfully, and she knew she’d found a small window to the thoughts he would never share with her. She lifted his hand and kissed the eye, surveying his face the entire time.
He shuddered when she brought her lips over his skin. “You’ve got me,” Sophia finally answered, lowering their hands to her lap, squeezing his fingers. His hand tightened around hers, unyielding.
He brought his face closer to hers, his features as hard as granite, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass. “Are you sure?” he asked roughly. “Once you’re mine, I won’t let you go until the sun rises.”
“And then what?”
Shutters fell over him, making him more unreadable than ever. “Then you’re free,” he said in a hollow tone. “You won’t have to see me again.”
“What?” she exclaimed in disbelief, pushing at his chest with her free hand hard enough to bruise. “You want one night with me…just for us to separate, to act like it never happened.”
“That’s exactly what I want.”
She tried to pull away from him, but he was a cage around her, and damn if he wasn’t a strong one. She released her claws. “Let me go, Heath,” she commanded, holding her hand under his chin.
Rage was molten in her veins, burning, waiting to be released. She felt something for him—she had no idea what—and the feelings were traitorous to everything she believed in. She couldn’t help the way her body, her mind, softened at the idea of the man, but she could damn well control her own actions.
“I don’t spend the night with men who want to forget about me,” she said, her voice catching embarrassingly. “Now let go of me before I rip out your larynx and feed it to the lion at the zoo.”
At that moment, she really wanted to. It would grow back…possibly.
Heath shook his head at her, humor curling his mouth, softening the glint in his eyes. “I’ll never forget about you, Sophia,” He released a dry laugh. “I’ve thought about you almost every day since the moment I met you, and I know I’ll think about you every day for the rest of my life.”
Sophia forgot about anything he’d said before.
She leaned forward and kissed him hungrily, breathing in pepper and forest, taking the taste of him into her mouth. It wasn’t a tentative kiss, but an angry one. Sophia gave him everything in her: frustration, rage, lust.
Heath was equally enthusiastic, growling low in his throat when she violently pulled his hair back, nipping her bottom lip in payback. His hands were so large they about spanned the width of her back, gripping hard enough to tell her she wasn’t going anywhere for a long time.
And she didn’t want to leave his arms. Kissing Heath was kissing pure fire, and Sophia couldn’t get enough of him. Soon, they were both hot and sweaty, panting on the cool November night. When she finally lifted her head she was straddling him, covering him with her body while he held her as close as he could.
“You only want this for one night?” she whispered against his throat, grazing his skin with her teeth.
Heath’s hand was on her face, angling it so she looked down at him. “I want it every day,” he said in a rumbling voice, punctuating his statement with a deep kiss.
Satisfied, Sophia sighed, melting into his hard, lean body. “If you’re good,” she said, grinning, “maybe we can make that happen.”
She found herself flipped onto her back so quickly she couldn’t have stopped him if she’d wanted to.
She didn’t.
He was rigid above her, his hand braced on the back of the loveseat in a white-knuckled grip. His other arm was wrapped around her back, pulling her up to meet him as if she weighed nothing.
Sophia’s hands were under his shirt, splaying over the ridges etched into his abdomen, scratching the muscles of his back and running over the gun stuck into his waistband. She pulled him to her, frenzied by the friction between their bodies.
He kissed the corner of her mouth softly, at the same time drawing his nails across her scalp hard enough to sting, but without the pressure needed to break the skin. It was an overload of sensation, his soft touches belied by the possessiveness emanating from him, the fury that simmered far below what he would ever intend for her to see.
Yet Sophia knew it was there, and knew that no matter what he’d said,
in his eyes she was his. She could see it in the brand of his gaze, feel it in the sweep of his tongue.
With his hands pushing against her hipbones, shaping to her curves, and his hot mouth open to hers, she thought she might not mind the notion so much.
But that doesn’t mean I’ll make it easy for him.
If he thought she was the kind of woman he could order around, who would meekly bow to his decisions without question, he was kissing the wrong person.
He pressed his lips to her neck, his eyes filled with awe.
He’d never treat me that way. She recalled his encouragement earlier.
“Baby, if you can’t kill them, no one can,” he’d said. Even now his words lifted her, reinforced her inner power.
“Damn, Heath, you amaze me,” she murmured, taking a kiss that was pure joy.
She could feel his lips turning up beneath hers. He was smiling.
Chapter 9
WISH carried a sleeping Molly up to her bedroom, tucking her into bed. His five-year-old daughter never ceased to amaze him. Today, she’d read a complete sentence over his shoulder.
Food will be hot to the touch, the label had said, and Molly read it to him as if it was nothing. She’d even been irritated when he made a big deal about it, shaking her little head as if he were crazy.
Obviously, his daughter was brilliant. She was on track to enter the Gifted and Talented program at her elementary school, and Wish couldn’t have been more proud.
Every day he thought about how close he’d been to never having a relationship with her, and every day he thanked the stars that the werewolves had busted into Molly’s house those months ago, rescuing his baby girl from her stepfather. Richard had killed Natasha, Molly’s mom, before the weres could save her too.
The very same man had killed Wish years before.
Now, he was a haint, a spirit so vengeful over his death that he could wreak as much havoc as he wanted. He was solid, immortal, and powerful enough to obliterate anyone who tried to take Molly away from him again.
He cracked her door open, leaving the light on in the hall how she liked it. Padding down the stairs to make a decaf cup of coffee—the mere taste would energize him, a psychological reaction—he froze on the stairs, hearing a deep voice outside his front door.
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