Of Tinkers and Technomancers

by Katherine McIntyre

  Closer. Closer.

  Her breaths grew ragged, her pulse quickened and, for a second, she forgot to breathe as she crashed over the edge. White-hot bliss seared her senses, and she panted while she rode the waves of her orgasm. A moment later, he let out a grunt as he spilled inside her. She sagged against the desk, not caring a whit about the state of mess. Strands of her hair were plastered to her drenched forehead and her shirt was glued onto her skin.

  Silas leaned over her, his big body engulfing hers as his chest pressed against her back. Theo didn’t want to admit how much she liked that.

  “I told you my name would be on your lips before this was through,” Silas murmured in her ear, his husky whisper sending shivers down her spine.

  “Hear this gasping coming from me?” she responded with a wry grin. “It’s because your ever-inflating self-image has sucked the rest of the air from the room.” His body shook against hers with laughter as he buried his face into her neck. For several moments, only the sound of their breaths infiltrated the quiet of the room. If she could have stayed here, like this, she would.

  Except the world didn’t halt, the clock continued to tick and Silas pulled away from her. She remained hunched forward a second longer, not because she didn’t trust her legs but because she wasn’t ready.

  After the time she’d spent getting to know him, after the unforgettable way they’d connected and after the shade of courage he’d revealed to her, she didn’t want to say goodbye. She sucked in a harsh breath, knowing where this exchange was heading. The only way it could go. Theo crouched to the ground to pull her trousers on, keeping her back to Silas.

  Her throat squeezed tight, and she couldn’t have dispelled the ache in her chest even if she’d tried. A hand grasped hers, and she spun around to come face-to-face with him. His own expression grew withdrawn when he buckled his trousers with none of the false cockiness or charm he wielded like a weapon. Despite the beautiful way they’d crashed together, the collision had left them like broken autocarts—twisted metal and gears that failed to keep turning.

  The glasses of brandy lay abandoned on the cabinet, but they’d been a paltry pretense, a sip of liquid courage before they indulged in what had been brewing between them the entire time.

  Silas ran a hand through his hair, staring at the floor while the silence grew into a painful, tangible thing. So quickly her triumph crashed and burned, and she was left with another hollow reminder of the sacrifices she made as the head of the family. Maybe in another town, another circumstance or another lifetime, she might have been able to explore the feelings that had blossomed between her and Silas Kylock.

  One thing was sure—she’d treasure for the rest of her days the time she’d spent with him.

  Theo closed the distance between them, but unlike before when she’d pressed her lips to his, instead, she extended her hand. Silas clasped it on instinct, the motion too fond, the touch too tender as it sent a lance of pain through her chest.

  “Pleasure doing business with you,” she whispered, barely able to force the words out. Theo broke the connection and strode past him, back to the cobblestone streets of London. She returned to the life she’d known before he’d disrupted everything and made her care far, far too deeply for him.

  The shadows clung to her while the slip of a moon cast feeble silver beams. Her hollow footsteps echoed through the chilled night air as she made her way to Islington, alone.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Several weeks had passed since the night Theo Whitfield walked out of his door.

  Silas fidgeted with the cufflinks around his wrists when his boots crunched over the gravel and split cobblestones of this section of Islington. Several weeks and, blazes, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. He came to a halt in front of a too-familiar tenement building, though at this time of the morning, he didn’t have to fight off the drunks singing on the landing step. Instead, as he walked inside, he just bypassed those slumped over in sleep, lining the corridors.

  The devastation in her gaze before she’d turned and walked out of his door had haunted him every night when he closed his eyes. His shoes sank into the moldering carpet, and he tried to ignore the stench of mold and vomit lingering in the halls while he made his way to the one flat he had in mind.

  Silas came to a halt in front of the door, nerves buzzing through him. What if she’d thought of him as some temporary fling? She might not want to see him again. He shook his head, gathering his confidence off the floor. Whatever Theo Whitfield might think of him now, she owed him a favor and he’d come to claim it. He lifted his knuckles to the door and knocked.

  The wrong sister showed up at the door. Ellie poked her head out, her eyes narrowing when she caught sight of him.

  “Look, I didn’t nick anything else of yours,” she started, lifting her hands in defense.

  Silas shook his head. “I’m not here about that. I came to talk to your sister.”

  Ellie lifted an eyebrow and her eyes twinkled with mischief. She looked night and day better than when he’d rescued her from Blair’s house. The bruises had faded, and she’d scrubbed the dirt and blood from her face, keeping her Whitfield tangle of black hair back in a ponytail.

  “Theo,” she called. “You have an admirer.” Ellie winked at him. “Good luck.”

  At that, she disappeared from the door. Apart from a couple of grumbles, he couldn’t make out the low murmur of the exchange. Except a second later, Theodosia Whitfield stood facing him, and he’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

  The punch to his gut was the confirmation he needed to reinforce what he wanted to say and why he’d come here in the first place. Her mouth dropped open and even though she tried to hide the shock, it gleamed in her cocoa eyes. The woman was as gorgeous as he remembered, her raven-wing hair in tumbled curls around her shoulders. Even the weathered trousers and button-down she wore fitted those sensual curves too well—ones he remembered intimately.

  “Well now, I thought an upstanding gentleman like yourself wasn’t meant to be seen around these streets,” she said, a guardedness to her tone that tore him to shreds. All the barriers they’d broken down snapped into place as if what had culminated between them had never existed. Silas sucked in a sharp breath. He had to try.

  “Why don’t we head outside and talk?” he offered, tilting his head in the direction of the tenement entrance. “I’ve got a proposition I believe you’ll want to hear.”

  Theo crossed her arms over her chest, but she nodded in careful acquiescence as they strode down the corridor together. As much as he’d prefer talking in the privacy of her flat, with her mother and Ellie crowding around the place, they wouldn’t get much. His heart kicked in double time. Everything—he’d betted everything on this.

  When they stepped out into the sunlight, Silas gathered his courage and grabbed her hand. At first, her shoulders stiffened, and he worried she would pull away, but a moment later, she softened. The feel of her skin against his was an addiction he sorely missed, and he basked in the pleasure of her touch, even as simple as holding hands.

  “Does this have to do with the favor I still owe you?” she asked, arching an eyebrow in his direction.

  “I left Kylock Industries,” he blurted, giving her hand a squeeze. She didn’t need to know of the furious fights he’d had with his father after those clockwork dolls were discovered as missing or the hateful words exchanged. The past couple of weeks had been absolute turmoil, but for the first time, he felt in control of his life.

  Theo’s eyebrows knit together in concern. “He didn’t kick you out for helping me, did he?” she asked, her voice tight when she squeezed his hand back. “Where will you tinker if not for your family’s company?”

  Her concern was balm to his chest, a relief he’d longed for ever since he’d last seen her. Blazes, he wanted to take her in his arms and forget about the world around them for a moment. Silas leaned against the brick wall outside the tenement building, soaking in th
e rays of the sunshine before he continued.

  “I never returned the diamond core,” he said. “I sold it to Remington’s instead, who’s willing to sell me parts to tinker. Except I’ll never be able to get any business off the ground without a reputable technomancer in employ.” He cast her a sideways glance. “That’s where you come in, my dear. If you’re willing to pay back the professional favor, I could use your skills. I’d like to offer you a position as partial owner, if interested. A partner.”

  Theo blinked at him, as if she hadn’t quite digested what he said.

  “I’d pay your going-rate to start, but if the business takes off, you’d have the opportunity to make far more—and I wouldn’t require you to leave your family behind. If anything, you might be able to afford better meds for your mother, or even an opportunity for better housing if you so choose.” Silas was rambling at this point, unsettled by the blank look on her face.

  Theo bit her lip, and a second later her eyes grew glossy with the tears. She crossed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his. The honeyed taste of her was electrifying, and the scent of iron and lilies clung to her. Silas’ body sparked to attention at the way their mouths crushed together. He circled his arms around her, the relief of having her there again aching in his bones.

  She pulled away to press her forehead to his. “I accept. You’ve got a unique talent with tinkering any technomancer would be lucky to work alongside.” The praise from a woman who rarely gave it meant the world to him. Having her here in his arms, the chaos stopped spinning, the problems seemed less consuming and, at last, clarity descended. She was the exact grounding he’d been searching for, and he hoped to provide the same for her.

  Silas slid his tongue over his lips. “Since I’m no longer working for my father, there’s one more matter I’d like to discuss.”

  “Oh?’ Theo asked, quirking her eyebrow even as her lips formed an impish smile he wanted to lean in and taste.

  “I want to be with you,” he murmured, leaning down to steal another kiss. “I’ve wanted to be with you for far too long, and these past few weeks have been hellish.”

  “For me too,” she whispered against his mouth. “You make me want to be selfish in the best sort of way. To carve out a life for myself and maybe imagine a future of my own.”

  Silas tilted her chin up and stared into those gorgeous eyes, filled with a determined strength that continued to inspire him. “Then let’s create a beautiful one.”

  Want to see more from this author? Here’s a taster for you to enjoy!

  Tribal Spirits: Forged Alliances

  Katherine McIntyre

  Excerpt

  Sierra was spoiling for a fight.

  She slammed into the Beaver Tavern’s door shoulder first, amber light spilling on her, and the scent of tobacco threading through the air when she entered. Wooden planks creaked under her boots from her tread as she quick-stepped to the oaken bar on the opposite side. Three things lit her match without fail—abusive assholes, idiots who didn’t use their turn signals and unannounced shifters moving in on her territory.

  Inside, her beast snapped at its confines, begging her to shift, to take to the woods and keep running, never turning back. Except leaving wasn’t an option, not since she’d become alpha of the Red Rock pack years ago. Sounds of the bar in full swing washed over her, from the shouts and laughs of the regulars to the clunks of heavy pint glasses hitting the tables.

  “Sierra, what’s up your ass?” Jeremiah called over from a table as a lazy smile reached his hazel eyes. Her Red Rock pack filled the whole bar, since humans kept their distance from predominantly shifter areas, and in this part of Pennsylvania few would come strolling in.

  She flipped him the middle finger. “Shut it, Streaky,” she called back, garnering a couple of laughs from the pack. After Jer had gotten caught buck-ass naked, stumbling out of at least three different tents at the last Fourth of July party, the nickname had stuck. Sierra beelined to where Raven operated the taps, dispensing dew to this loud and crazy lot. Sierra’s body brimmed with unspent tension. Fight, fight, fight pounded through her, an untamable urge, and her wolf prowled inside her, restless. As alpha, her rank heightened her tether to the beast, already one step away from primal.

  “Shot of whiskey,” she growled, needing to regain control. Needing the reset before she engaged with her pack. Raven blinked at her, those deep-set eyes warm and welcoming as she reached for the bottle of Jack. Strands of the bartender’s thick black hair drifted over her shoulder as she passed the drink over.

  “Boss, go for the whole thing,” she said with an amused smile. The bottle hit the counter with a thump, reminding Sierra of the massive inventory piling up in the back. The day she’d won the title of alpha, she’d also earned herself ownership of this dive.

  “Thanks,” she muttered before unscrewing the cap and taking a swig. The amber liquid sloshed around the bottle, burning once the whiskey hit her lips. She soaked in the bliss, in the five-second distraction from the territorial urges pushing her toward an aggression-fueled pissing contest. Her skin prickled, hackles raised from her earlier run—from the note that had turned this day from sunshine-speckled to hellish.

  She sucked down another swig, the burn of alcohol spreading through her before she returned the bottle to the counter. One deep breath, then two, and she started to feel normal again. The beast snarled but backed down. Sierra plopped onto one of the worn leather stools and leaned forward, elbows digging into the polished oak counter. Her tank top was glued to her chest and her thick obsidian locks plastered to her cheeks and her neck. The sweltering heat that swept the region wasn’t helping her mood in the slightest.

  A hand snaked out in front of Sierra to tug the bottle away as the seat beside her creaked.

  “Need to go a couple of rounds?” Finn asked, his dark eyes dancing with amusement at her barely contained rage. “Whatever’s got your wolf snapping is hitting the rest of us too. I’m assuming a summer squall’s brewing.” The beta of her pack dominated the stool, tall, with the lithe muscle of an MMA fighter—fitting, since he taught kickboxing classes six days a week. He’d been her sparring partner for years, and even as a teenager, the bastard had played dirty, sand in the eyes and all.

  “Storm’s ready to touch down,” Sierra muttered, slumping onto the counter. When it came to her pack, she made calls without hesitation—every member from the eldest to the littles had complaints, problems to solve or disputes and fights she managed. However, this problem was in a whole different category. “We’ve got new neighbors, and they’re of the pain-in-my-ass variety.”

  “Neighbors like us?” Finn asked, beckoning Raven. She sauntered over, eyebrow lifted at being summoned that way. He tilted his head toward the taps, and she rolled her eyes before pouring him a pint. Sierra withheld her smirk, entertained by watching big dominant guys like Finn getting sassed back. All those powerful wolves didn’t make dating easy though, especially being alpha. As much as the guys liked to talk the talk of handling a woman more dominant than them, few could walk the walk. She swallowed age-old bitterness of the lesson she’d learned the hard way.

  Before she could respond to Finn, the door of the bar creaked open, drawing her attention.

  She hadn’t even turned around before her wolf started yanking at the chain, begging to come out. The scent hit her nose at once, not the familiar one of her Red Rock pack, but this unfamiliar one that brushed her fur the wrong way. Claws pricked out from her nails before she could stop herself, and she wasn’t the only one. A low growl emerged beside her as Finn picked up the foreign scent.

  “Mislabeled the sign,” a cocky voice called from the door. “Should read ‘Doggie Daycare’ with the number of pups packed into this place.” The man’s eyes twinkled at his less-than-funny joke, and an amused grin spread on his face. He walked in with a graceful stride, the liquidity of his movements betraying his kind, as if a cat could ever disguise its nature. Chairs squeaked as folks
leaped up, teeth bared and claws out as her Red Rocks prepared to rush the intruder. A blonde chick and a long-limbed toothpick of a guy strode in behind him with similar refinement to their movements.

  Sierra barely controlled herself as she forced her claws back into place. Out of everyone, she had to rein in her beast because she carried the responsibility of an entire pack on her shoulders. “You’d figure with so many pups under one roof, a kitty cat wouldn’t be stupid enough to wander in.”

  “Oh, you know, curiosity and all that.” His white teeth gleamed against his tanned skin. “You folks give the warmest welcomes to newcomers.” He tugged on the end of his baseball cap before crossing through the crowded bar without a care. The cocky bastard ignored the bristling wolves on either side begging to leap forward, each lethal in his or her own right. Either he had brass balls or he had lost his common sense a few states back. A couple of members of Sierra’s pack glanced her way, begging permission to lunge at the intruder and take him down.

  “Well, love notes as charged as yours tend to inspire passionate responses.” Sierra forced a grin, baring her teeth in the process. The note had been simple. The Silver Springs pack—a group of mountain-lion shifters with the reputation for being mean motherfuckers—were searching for a new home. Right in the middle of Red Rock territory. Asshole thought he was hilarious, leaving a trail of puppy chew toys strewn through her normal jogging path.

  Sierra began her own approach, each step coiled with tension. Not like she would attack him unprovoked, but the moment she caught sign of a claw or fang from these intruders, all bets were off.