by C. I. Black
Lachlin cocked his head to the side. “What do you think?”
Her gaze jumped from Lachlin to Gage and Morgan. “I see the rumors of Chava’s daughter are true. Medusa’s line still lives.”
Light flickered at the edge of Morgan’s vision.
“We need to talk,” Lachlin said.
“Before I’ve been properly introduced to your new… friend?” Bearnas stood, oozing grace and sensuality just like Lachlin did.
The light flickered again. Sunlight on water.
Lachlin rolled his eyes. “Morgan Jacobs, my sister Bearnas Kincade. Bearnas, Morgan.”
“Morgan the gorgon. How unfortunate.” Bearnas chuckled.
Morgan fought the urge to glare. “With a name like Bearnas, I wouldn’t start throwing insults.”
“Father is going to hate her.” Bearnas flashed a wicked smile—without a doubt, she was related to Lachlin. “She’s perfect.”
The light flickered again. Morgan yanked her gaze to the metal shelf beside her. Light danced across a dozen boxes nestled on a shelf packed with books and tubs. One was gold, the rest were silver, and all had the same Celtic swirls that were on the phantom sword box.
They shimmered again, as if in invitation for Morgan to touch them. “Are these—?”
“Magic?” Bearnas asked. “So she has the sight. Interesting.”
Morgan bit back a sigh. “I’m not some new toy.”
“No, you’re so much more interesting than that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She jerked around to confront Bearnas, bumped Gage’s shoulder, and tipped off balance. Her hand flew toward the shelf and the magic boxes. She grabbed Gage’s jacket, throwing herself against him. The last time she’d touched a magic box, a sword had tried to kill her.
Gage wrapped an arm across her back, holding her close. His biceps flexed, pressing against her body. There was more of him pressed against her than just his arms… or was that her body pressed against his.
Heat swept up her neck and she eased back, mindful of her balance and the magic boxes behind her.
“A little overdramatic. My magic doesn’t bite.” Bearnas slid a manicured finger over the top of a piece on her worktable. “Although that gold one there will seal a room and suck out all the air in the event of a fire. I suggest not being around when that happens.”
“And the others?” Morgan still wasn’t going to touch anything that glittered.
“The rest are magical video cameras with motion sensitive activation. For house interiors and patios.” The wicked smile returned to Bearnas’s lips. “Which means I now have that priceless reaction saved so I can watch it over and over again.”
Wonderful. Morgan threw her hands up in defeat. “Glad I can amuse.”
Bearnas giggled, the mischief in her tone lightening. “I apologize. I was playing with you. There’s just so little fun around here.”
“So the boxes—?”
“No, they really do have those spells in them, and I might replay your reaction again. It was priceless.”
Gage cleared his throat. “Please, Ms. Kincade.”
“Why so formal, Alexander?” She slid his name out, turning each syllable into a sensual sound.
“This is serious,” Lachlin said.
All sensuality and mirth dropped away and Bearnas stilled. “How serious?”
“It’s—”
Bird song filled the air.
“Your phone? Really?” Lachlin asked.
Bearnas shrugged. “Excuse me. I’ll just turn that off.” She shifted piles of metal and jewels and papers on her table, searching for her phone.
The birds chirped again.
“It has to be here, somewhere.” A blush raced over Bearnas’s cheeks and forehead, and she appeared genuinely embarrassed at the interruption. “Please excuse me, Alexander. I, ah…”
“It’s fine,” Gage said.
“No, really.” She straightened, her face bright red, and squared her shoulders. “I’m always losing it. It’ll stop ringing eventually. You said this was serious?”
As if on cue, the birds chirped again.
Lachlin reached into the wastebasket beside the table and pulled out a sleek black phone smaller than his palm. “You should keep it in your purse.”
“I’m always losing that, too. There’s just so much—” She pressed two fingers to her temple.
“You still getting those visions?”
“I can handle it. It’s just a little distracting.” She glanced at her phone. “And that was Father. Seems my absentmindedness has saved me from a long conversation.”
“It’s only delayed it,” Lachlin said, his voice dark.
“Unfortunately. Now you said something was serious?” She offered Gage a soft smile.
Gage returned it.
An ache twisted in Morgan’s heart. It was irrational. Gage could smile at anyone he liked. Sure, he’d flirted a bit with Morgan in the last seven days, but that didn’t mean anything. There was still that trust issue. Besides, she didn’t have dibs on any of the hot guys she currently lived with, even if she wanted to.
She shoved that thought aside, pulled out her phone, and opened up Scarlet’s mug shot. “Do you recognize this woman?”
“That’s Scarlet. Is she all right?”
“She’s dead, sweetie,” Lachlin said.
“Oh no.” Bearnas’s delicate hands flew to her mouth.
Morgan fought the urge to take her sunglasses off to better read Bearnas’s reaction. That was too dangerous. As it was—if reading Kin was anything like reading humans—it seemed the young woman was genuinely shocked. “How do you know her?”
“She and Eoin started dating a few months ago.”
“Son of a—” Lachlin stiffened and closed his eyes, a sign he was using his powers to sense if this Eoin person was nearby. “I’ll—”
Bearnas grabbed Lachlin’s arm. “It wasn’t like that.”
“We’ll find out, won’t we?” He jerked from Bearnas’s grip and stormed out the door.
“Just great. Morgan, go after him before he pisses off the heir to one of the most powerful Kin Houses. I’ve got it here.”
“The heir—?” And once again she was missing pertinent information. She could only hope in this case it wouldn’t kill her. Morgan ran out the door into the hall with the heavy steel doors.
No Lachlin.
Maybe he’d returned to the store. She rushed back into the jewelers and caught the clerk’s attention. “I’m looking for Eoin.”
“Do you have an appointment?” a silky masculine voice asked from the far side of the room. It sounded like Lachlin.
It looked like Lachlin, too. Same build, same long black hair, same pale eyes. Except he now wore a well-tailored navy suit. Lachlin had been wearing a black dress shirt and jeans… or had he?
“Did I forget we had one?” He sauntered toward her, just like Lachlin always did, sex oozing from him. “Trina, what’s my schedule?”
The clerk glanced up from studiously rearranging a display case.
“I apologize if I’ve forgotten you.”
“If you what—?” Morgan turned back to him. Her brain stuttered. He looked like Lachlin and moved like Lachlin, but there was something wrong, something different. “You’re his twin.”
Lachlin’s look-alike raised a sculpted eyebrow. “Ah, you’re with Lachlin.”
“I’m sorry. That was really rude.” She wiped a sweaty palm on her thigh and held out her hand. “Let’s start again. I’m Deputy Marshal Morgan Jacobs and I’m looking for Eoin.” She didn’t even have a last name, but she doubted there were a lot of Eoins walking around the building.
He clasped her hand with a firm grip. Warmth seeped over her fingers and up her wrist. Holding his hand was the most comfortable thing in the world.
Her brain stuttered again. She had to find Lachlin. “I’m, ah… Where’s Eoin?”
He laughed, the sound dancing across her senses, drawing a shiver. “Rig
ht here. I’m Eoin Kincade.”
“Oh.” Jeez, couldn’t she think of something more intelligent to say?
“I’d heard a gorgon had been discovered and that you came late into your heritage.” He gave a gentle tug on her hand, drawing her into motion and leading her to a cushioned bench by the large display window. “How are you adjusting to your new life?”
“There have been some ups and downs. It’s still early days.” What the hell was she doing? There was no need to tell this man anything, but the words poured out before she could stop them.
He traced a vein on the back of her hand, drawing another shiver of attraction. “Has Alexander given you his encyclopedia to suffer through?”
“It’s dry, but helpful.” She really should let go of his hand. Just slide her fingers free, but she couldn’t get the idea to leave her brain and move her body.
“There are other, less dry ways to learn about your people.” The promise of passionate nights and engrossing conversations filled his voice.
Yes, that was what she wanted.
No, it wasn’t…
Well, maybe.
“How about we start now?”
“Start?” Why couldn’t she think straight? Fuzz filled her head. Nothing felt real, save for the desire to be with Eoin and the press of his hand against hers. His flesh to hers. His body… his sleek, sexy Fae body.
Her brain latched onto the word. Fae. He was Fae. That meant he had the power to manipulate her, make her feel things she normally wouldn’t feel.
But boy, were there things she wanted to feel with him—
No, damn it.
She jerked her hand free and stood. He seized it and the thought forming on the tip of her tongue vanished. She wanted…? To get away? To have crazy passionate sex? To…?
“Hands off,” he said. But his mouth didn’t move and his eyes widened.
A fist slammed into his face, knocking his head back. He released her hand and someone—Lachlin, from the swish of black hair—jerked her back, throwing her off balance. Her butt hit the marble floor and the impact jarred up her spine and snapped into her brain. Heat swept over her face, a threat from her unwanted powers, as well as embarrassment at her thoughts.
Eoin jerked to his feet, but Lachlin stepped in front of her—giving her far too good a view of his sleek-muscled thighs and butt.
More embarrassed heat flooded her cheeks.
“Can’t get a date without magically roofieing the girl?” Lachlin asked.
“And yours have never known the true pleasure of being with a Kincade.”
“I prefer them conscious.”
Morgan staggered to her feet, using the display case beside her to keep her balance.
“And now you’ve taken to killing them when you’re done, tossing them into alleys like garbage.” Lachlin’s ears turned pointed and his hair grew to his waist.
“Careful, brother, you’re losing your glamour.”
“Fuck you. Answer the question,” Lachlin said.
“There was a question in there?” Eoin winked at Morgan and the heat of attraction slid through her.
Lachlin grabbed the front of Eoin’s suit and jerked him close. “Where were you last night?”
“At the Thirteen Houses Ball.” Eoin wrenched his jacket free. “Where you should have been. Although let’s face it, if you were with our lovely gorgon here, I might be able to forgive you for not attending.”
“We’re co-workers,” Lachlin growled.
“Perfect.” Eoin purred the word, sending shivers racing over Morgan.
She needed to focus. Get back to business. Get the hell out of there. She fumbled her phone from her pocket and pulled up Scarlet’s mug shot. “Do you recognize this woman?”
“Is that a mug shot?” Eoin asked.
Lachlin glared at him. “Bearnas says you were slumming with the sylph.”
“Everyone deserves a chance, and what can I say, she’s hot.” Eoin blew Morgan a kiss.
“Was hot,” Lachlin said. “You got your tense wrong.”
Eoin shrugged. “Never was good with grammar.”
“When did you last see Ms. Worley?” Morgan asked, fighting to say on topic and ignore the desire coursing through her.
“Two weeks ago. We decided we needed space.”
“No, you decided you were done with her and your charm made her agree.” Lachlin snorted. “You never change, do you?”
“Oh, and you’re so different?” Eoin asked.
“I don’t charm them senseless.”
“No, you’re worse.”
“That was a long time ago.” Lachlin jerked forward.
Morgan grabbed his arm. “Maybe we should let Gage talk to Mr. Kincade.”
“I’ll talk to you.” Eoin leveled a heated gaze on Morgan. His magic swarmed through her head and warmed her body. God, even without him holding her hand, he was intoxicating.
“She’s not going to be another of your conquests.”
“That’s her choice.”
Oh, yes.
No.
No, no, no.
Focus. “It’s Special Agent Gage’s case. His interview.” That was the best she could come up with without melting into a puddle of lust. Jeez, the Kincade boys were dangerous.
CHAPTER 4
Morgan headed to the kitchen and poured herself a coffee. What she really wanted was a cold shower or a brain transplant, but neither was an option at the moment. She still ran hot from Eoin’s magic and the twenty-minute ride back to Gage’s house in Old Town, in close quarters with Gage and Lachlin, hadn’t helped her cool down. Both were attractive. Not that Lachlin was her type, but at the moment, her hormones didn’t seem to care what her type was.
And now, to make things worse, she was all too aware that she lived with both of them. Their bedrooms were mere doors down from hers. They shared a living room and kitchen. She could try avoiding them, but eventually their paths would cross. It was inevitable.
Except avoiding them at the moment was probably the only good idea she had. At least until she’d managed to get rid of the desire burning through her.
But they still had a murder to figure out and the longer they took, the harder it would be to catch the killer. Evidence degraded over time. The elements scoured it away; things were moved, hidden, displaced; and memories grew foggy. She knew at least that much from her time with Fugitive Operations when she was a U.S. Marshal.
Was. Past tense.
She took a gulp of her coffee. It was bitter and burnt. From the taste, it had been sitting around for a while. Kind of like her. She’d benched herself after the attack in that alley four months ago, thinking she was crazy, when really the world was crazy.
Now that she knew the truth, she could go back to work. Her boss would love that. So would her best friend and fellow marshal, Kate.
But she didn’t know all of the truth. Gage was still keeping secrets, and if her encounter with Eoin was any proof, she still knew next to nothing about Kin. That, and there was still the risk that she’d lose control of her powers and turn someone to stone.
No matter how much she wanted to return to life as usual, she couldn’t.
Gage stepped into the archway and leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, pulling his T-shirt tight against his well-muscled frame. “You okay?”
No. She needed wild, mind-blowing sex and he was the kind of man who could accommodate her.
“Yep, just needed a coffee.” She held up her mug.
His eyes narrowed, his dark gaze settling on her as if he could see into her soul.
A shiver swept up her spine and she sloshed coffee over the rim. It trailed hot down her fingers.
His gaze jumped to her hand, then slid up her body, back to her eyes.
Her pulse pounded through her, and the heat within her sank into her gut and lower.
“From everything I’ve heard, Eoin’s charm is extremely powerful.”
Oh hell yes!
Her breath hitched
in her throat. Why couldn’t Gage just move closer, like within arm’s reach? He just stood there, dark and sexy.
“I wouldn’t know. First time charmed.” She shrugged and spilled more coffee over her hand. Damn it. Could she be any more of a disaster?
Lachlin eased into the doorway beside Gage, all slick, bad-boy sex. His image—or Eoin’s, she wasn’t sure which—flooded her mind’s eye and the heat low within her body flooded down her legs and up her chest.
Oh God! She forced herself to turn her back on them with a strength of will she’d had no idea she possessed. There on the sink. The dishcloth. Yes, something cool to press against her neck and face. But that would give her thoughts away and how embarrassing would that be? Gage and Lachlin couldn’t know the raw, primal thoughts coursing through her.
“What’s the hold-up?” Lachlin asked, his silky voice rushing through her.
“Coffee. Just wanted coffee.” And oh so much more. She sucked in a ragged breath. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Actually, coffee sounds like a great idea,” Gage said.
That would draw him closer. Oh yes. No. Jeez. Get. A. Grip.
“Well, hurry up. My brother is getting away with murder,” Lachlin said.
Gage stepped up to the counter. “We don’t know that. And you should be off this case.”
“What did Bearnas tell you?” Morgan asked, her nerves on fire. Gage was close, so very close. She inched away and leaned against the granite counter, praying she looked normal.
“She said if Lachlin recognized her signature, the spellbox has to be hers.”
Lachlin rolled his eyes. “We knew that already. Eoin could have taken it. He has access to her studio. Did she confess to the anchor?”
“It wasn’t on any of the pictures I took. We’ll need to better examine it in the lab. Bearnas also said she makes a few of the boxes ahead of time, primed, ready for any spell to be laid into it.” Gage poured the last cup of coffee into a mug. “So Eoin could have taken it, except he isn’t a spellweaver.”
“Doesn’t mean he didn’t get someone else to do it,” Lachlin said.
