Kisses to Steal

by Tilly Wallace

  He reached out for her, needing to halt her frantic pacing. It seemed as though she was a mechanical toy and the movement kept her wound. If she would simply stand still and talk to him, she would calm down and see reason. He wrapped a hand around her forearm, but she jumped and twisted away.

  "The Wolves' mission? What mission?" She stalked away from him, beyond his reach unless he chased her down.

  That was a slip of the tongue. But he was in a hole now, the only option was to keep digging and hope he emerged on the other side with the woman he loved safe in his arms. "Ewan was to find what you knew of Hoth and Dunne's business dealings. They are suspected of being traitors to England."

  "You were spying on me? All your declarations and attentions were simply to find out what Phillip had discussed with the viscount?" She backed away a step, but it may as well have been a hundred miles. A door slid over her features, and she was shut on one side and him on the other.

  "It wasn't like that, not for me. The plan was for Ewan to get close to you, but for me it has always been personal. I foiled Ewan when I offered you the bet." It sounded horrid when he stated the facts standing in the insipid sunlight outside an insane asylum. Why couldn't she see that his motivation had always been to protect her? He loved her with all his being and would do anything to give her a safe home.

  He followed her along the packed earth, advancing as she retreated. "That mission doesn't matter anymore. What is important is bringing Hoth to justice for what he has done to those women. You cannot seriously still be thinking of going to him, when you know what he is. Why would you not take me instead?"

  That made the courtesan stop in her tracks. She laughed, a high-pitched noise so unlike her usual light humour. "Because you seek to control me, but have no funds to support me. I will go to Hoth because he has something you lack—money."

  "Don't do this, Ianthe, please. Just wait a few weeks while we gather proof against him." He reached for her again. He just wanted to make her understand. Possessing wealth didn't bring joy or pleasure. If she allowed him, he would right the wrongs against her and Alice. He would do all in his power to make the world a better place for them. Now he had seen the unfortunate woman, he would not abandon her. Quinn wondered how Aster would feel about acquiring a sister. Or two sisters, for his body and soul yearned for Ianthe. Why could she not see that he offered her far more than mere coin? He would offer her the moon and stars.

  Ianthe would not be placated. "This is business, Quinn, something you do not seem to understand. I have no intention of letting Septimus do to me what he did to Alice. She served him for two years and survived because of her mage-blood. I only need to stomach a month or so."

  "He revolts you! I have seen you shudder when he reaches for you. What will you do when he nibbles on your soul? What does he dangle over you, that you would still dance to his tune?" It made no sense. The man was the worst kind of nightmare and she would still kneel at his feet. Did she value money and possessions above all else, or did she think to one day be the viscount's lady wife?

  She clasped her hands in front of her stomach. "Some things are none of your business. Our week is over and the time you bought has run out. Don't bother to return to the house with me. Perkins will send along your belongings."

  Her words were a punch to his gut. Was that what she thought? That his only concern was that he received all the time he paid for, as though he equated minutes with pennies? Damn the money. It had never been about that; the bet had simply been a way to be near her, to try and open her heart to him. "You shouldn't have to sell yourself and you wouldn't have to, if you would just accept my offer."

  Her eyes glistened with unshed tears and she flung an accusing arm at him. "You are no different from any of them. Men are all alike, you all seek to buy me. You want to control my actions as though I were a doll. But you have empty pockets and cannot buy a spot in my bed."

  Frustration built under his skin. He wanted to yell and pummel his fists into something. Preferably Hoth, for what he had done to the poor woman and the others before her. Instead, he took off his top hat and hurled it at a tree, where it wedged high between two branches. "Can't you see? I don't want to control you, woman! I just want you to be safe. I love you, Ianthe. If you would just marry me, I could take you away and protect you from all of this."

  He hadn't meant to say it, or to say it in quite that manner. The words that had bubbled under his skin for days now burst free. Why should he have to wait until she said it first? Why did he have to wait until he was past twenty-five years old to know if he loved a woman or not? Blast it. She was his mate. He loved her and wanted no other in his life. He could spend the next fifty years roaming the globe and he would never find another to compare to her. He just wished he had a more romantic location to declare himself. Screaming at each other outside of Bedlam didn't seem the place for confessions of love.

  Her eyes widened and her grip tightened on the parasol handle. "You are in the thrall of a childish infatuation and it will pass. You are simply experiencing puppy love."

  He crossed his arms over his chest and growled, "I am no pup. I know my mind and I will have you."

  "You are just a boy, throwing a tantrum because your latest toy has been taken away from you. If you wish to purchase my soul through marriage, then you need a more substantial living. Good day, Mr Muir." She turned and walked away, back to the jarvey and his waiting ride. She climbed into the carriage and the horses trotted off down the drive.

  He wanted to sink to his knees. No. It couldn't end like this. She couldn't just turn her back on him. Without her in his life, his heart would be as broken as the minds of the people crammed into Bedlam.

  22

  Quinn

  * * *

  Quinn had to walk back to the main road before he found a carriage to take him to Kensington. As it was, he should have kept walking. He was unable to sit still and jiggled so much the jarvey asked him if he needed a comfort stop. He burst through the door at Aunt Margaret's house, strode into the parlour, and poured himself a generous glass of her illegal moonshine. He threw back the whisky and the potent liquor burned a path down his gullet. He had hoped it would kill the pain in his heart, but it didn't. So he poured another one. The third shot was to mute the horror of what Hoth did in the privacy of his secluded Mayfair mansion.

  "Easy, lad, that has to last until the next shipment," Maggie said from her usual spot on the sofa. "Whatever has gotten into you?"

  He took another long swallow. This time he savoured the smoked heat. Might as well appreciate the flavour, since it didn't appear to cure heartache, or dull the hideous images conjured in his mind of Hoth breaking Alice.

  "The woman I love just ripped out my heart and stomped it into the ground. Despite the fact that Viscount Hoth is a murderous miscreant not fit to walk this earth, she still plans to give herself to him." Quinn stared at the half-empty tumbler. They would definitely need another shipment.

  Alick slapped him on the back and topped up his glass. "Tough day, but that's women for you. Was the woman the missing mistress?"

  Quinn swirled the amber liquid, trying to quiet his mind as it screamed out for the oblivion he would find in the bottom of a bottle. "Yes. The woman Aster found is the missing Alice. Now reduced to a pale wraith, terrified of Hoth, or master, as she called him. She said she tore her soul into pieces and hid them so he couldn't consume her."

  "Tore her soul into pieces and hid it? That sounds like something only a mage-blood could do. I shall check the genealogies again for her name," Aster said.

  Quinn's gaze lingered on his adopted sister. "Ianthe's love is for sale and I cannot afford the price. She said I am not wealthy enough to sustain her." He closed his fist around the tumbler. How easy it would be to tighten his grip and watch the glass shatter, and then the tiny pieces would fall to the floor.

  Was that how Hoth saw the women he acquired, mere objects to destroy on a whim? Quinn drew a deep breath and placed the glass g
ently on the sideboard. Drowning his sorrows was a rabbit hole he didn't want to fall down, not when he could do something practical, like pummelling Hoth.

  "Poor child," Aunt Maggie said, and she set down her novel.

  "Others may have suffered worse fates. Ianthe said she had a vision of bones tied with ribbons. She thinks it may be former mistresses he has drained completely. Alice appears to have survived because she is mage-blooded. Tell me we will stop him, regardless of their plot." Quinn turned to his captain. He just needed the word and he would face Hoth himself.

  "Traitor or murderer, Hoth is a threat we cannot ignore. What we are lacking is any direct proof against him." Hamish rose from the game of cards he had been playing with Ewan.

  "For proof we have the vision of one courtesan and the ravings of another incarcerated in the lunatic asylum. Add to that the fact that neither woman has family, breeding, or influence. The magistrate would laugh us out of his home and probably charge us for wasting his time." Ewan swung his chair around.

  Fury coursed through Quinn. He bared his teeth and a low growl rumbled through his chest.

  Hamish dropped a hand on his shoulder. "Easy, Quinn. Ewan is simply stating the truth."

  Internally his hackles rose, even as logically he knew Hamish and Ewan were right. His emotions were riding a bucking horse, tossing him first one way then another. He shook his head, trying to regain his focus. "Ianthe said this was the world we lived in, that the wealthy and privileged can do as they please. There is no justice for the poor or vulnerable."

  "Unnaturals are subject to English laws and the courts require hard proof that they can see and touch, unfortunately." Aster rose from her chair and wrapped her arms around Quinn.

  He folded her to him, and rested his cheek on the top of her head. Her gentle presence soothed the wolf within him. Having a sister was new for him, but his feelings were ancient. He would always cherish his family. Quinn's mind worried over the image of the poor woman in Bedlam. Alice should have had someone to protect her. And Ianthe was a jewel beyond price; how could she place a cost on her body and soul?

  "Rubbish. You lot have gone soft and are thinking like whipped Englishmen. What is needed is a bit of Scottish justice," Aunt Maggie announced from her corner.

  "Scottish justice still obeys the law." Quinn didn't follow wherever Aunt Maggie's mind was wandering.

  Hamish paced to the window and leaned on the sill. He stared at his wife giving comfort to Quinn. "Those who hide behind the law can still be reached. Scottish law is when you do what is right, regardless of what the written statues say."

  Morals could be a damned nuisance at times. Quinn's sense of obedience said he had to follow the letter of the law, but he preferred Hamish's and Aunt Maggie's view where you enforced the intention and didn't bother with the fine print.

  "Have you thought what you will do after the war, Quinn?" Aster raised her violet gaze to meet his. A frown pulled at the middle of her forehead.

  Quinn needed to stop drinking Aunt Maggie's moonshine. Nobody was making any sense. "We were discussing the futility of reaching Hoth and midnight justice, not my future career plans."

  "One dovetails with the other. The war with France will not last forever. Revealing Hoth's nature has shown us that there are creatures within our own borders that need to be stopped. Would you stand against such men, Quinn? Would you protect the vulnerable and dispense justice on their behalf?" Aster's frown turned to a knowing smile.

  It was a question to which she probably already knew the answer. "Of course I would. Do you ask if I would turn into a vigilante?"

  Aster's fingers played with the fabric of his jacket as she spoke. "No, that isn't practical. Being a vigilante doesn't pay and has a high risk of getting you killed. But if you worked on behalf of the government you would be both paid and your actions sanctioned. With the passing of the Unnaturals Act, parliament is forming a ministry to monitor Unnaturals, the mage-blooded, and mages. They plan to recruit men with special abilities to hunt creatures like Hoth."

  Quinn let out a low whistle and glanced over to Hamish. "Set a wolf to hunt a monster. Did you know about this?"

  His captain smirked. "My wife is very clever and she's been thinking long-term. We have been discussing the strengths of the Wolves and what to do after the war."

  Thinking of the future made a deep sigh well up in his chest as he thought of the beautiful courtesan who owned his heart. "She is my mate, Aster, and she's going to let that horrible old man suck her dry. How can I stand by and do nothing? If he harms one hair on her head, I will tear him limb from limb."

  Aster squeezed him. "As you know, I prefer to follow evidentiary rules, but I am learning that some situations require a more flexible approach. Hoth needs to be dealt with before he harms anyone else. I am talking to the mage, Lady Seraphina Miles, about how to neutralise his soul eating tendencies."

  "Good. But justice will be too late for those he has already destroyed." The walk he had taken through Bedlam would haunt him. Enemy soldiers were treated better. And what of the piles of bones Ianthe saw? Would they find broken pieces of women in Hoth's cellar?

  "What will become of Alice?" Aster directed her question to her husband.

  "Quinn? What would you have us do?" the captain asked.

  "We will liberate her from that wretched place." He held Aster tight, glad that their captain sheltered the gentle woman from the horrors the world contained. Her warmth reminded him there was still good in the world. "Then I need to figure out how to stop Ianthe from serving up her soul to Hoth."

  Aster shook her head. "Did you try talking to her? I'm sure she will see reason. From what I observed of Ianthe she seems to have a level head on her shoulders."

  His mouth turned downward as he thought on their parting. Reason didn't play a role in it, and they had both flung angry words. "She threw my affections in my face as though they were a handful of unwanted coins."

  "Oh." His sister frowned, and yet he saw the cogs in her mind turning over.

  Alick let out a low whistle. "Ignoring the sad state of Quinn's love life—sorry, lad—and circling back to our original problem, I always knew nobles were perverted bastards. I wonder how many of the ton are Unnaturals hiding behind fancy masks?" He glanced at his cousin, Hamish, who would inherit an earldom one day.

  Hamish scratched his chin. "Time will tell, now that we can reveal ourselves. And as Aster has already said, there could be work in it for us to ensure they lead law-abiding lives. Ewan told us that Hoth arrived at Ianthe's house looking for some papers. Has she said anything about what they might have been? We are still at war and need some direction as to what they are plotting."

  The weight in Quinn's chest grew heavier with each beat. He had failed, personally and professionally. "No. I thought finding Alice would earn her trust, but it has destroyed it instead."

  Hamish rubbed his chin as he thought aloud. "Then we split up and tackle the issue from multiple sides. Alick will continue to see what he can gleam from Hoth's men, although they are a tight-lipped bunch. Ewan will shadow Hoth as he moves among the ton. Aster will work with the mage to concoct something we can use against him. I will report to Bathurst about both matters."

  "Perhaps Aunt Maggie could help me with Alice?" Aster looked to the older matron who ruled over her boisterous pups.

  Quinn was gladdened that they would rally around the broken woman. Here, at least, was something he could do, and a task he would not fail. "Good. She is frightened and needs somewhere quiet to heal, assuming it is even possible to stitch back a shattered soul."

  Maggie cleared her throat. "Well, I hate this city in summer—too damn hot, and it smells. I can take the lass up to the Highlands. There's an old witch I know. If anyone can figure out how to find the hidden pieces of the girl, old Morag will know."

  Aster hugged him tight. "I am glad we are adopting another sister. It would be nice to expand our family and even the numbers. I find wolves are rather a handful to
manage."

  That brought a smile to his face. His sister had read his thoughts. Perhaps all was not futile after all. They could still offer their love and protection to one broken soul, even if it wasn't the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

  Ianthe

  * * *

  I love you.

  Could she believe him when he had admitted to only being under her roof to spy on her? Then the words speared her heart and the pain in his gaze nearly undid her. She had to walk away before the tears fell down her face. Even if his words were true, they could never be together, no matter how much she desperately wanted it. Love sounded poetic, until you realised the cupboard was bare and the debt collectors were banging on the door. Quinn had no money to his name and before she could leave London for another life, she first had to find a patron to settle all her debts.

  But it wasn't just practical reasons behind her actions. She had turned his offer aside because she loved him. There, she admitted it. It was because Quinn resided in her heart that she had to push him in another direction. Even if there was a way they could be together, how could he ever overcome her origins? Cyprian. Courtesan. Whore.

  A wolf loves forever.

  Impossible, surely? Eventually the thin veneer of love would wear away and Quinn would wonder how many other men had lain between her thighs. Then he would throw ugly words in her face to cover the hurt and disappointment in his heart. It was better this way. He would find a nice, virginal noble girl. One who had never experienced the rub of a hard floor against her knees as she earned a few coins. Someone worthy of the all-encompassing love he offered.

  She drew a deep breath, but oh, how it hurt. Could a heart really break? Was the tight squeeze a rupture in her cold organ, where she had ripped out thoughts of a future with Quinn? She wiped her eyes. There was a matter more pressing, as it was only two days until Septimus would claim his prize. She tried not to think of what he had done to his other mistresses. Soul eater. The word sent coldness slithering down her spine. At least Ianthe was forewarned. He would not find her as docile or compliant as his last victim. If Alice could thwart him, then so would she.