5
“I’ll be out in just a minute.”
Merek just grunted and leaned back against the foot of the hospital bed. Everyone else had gone to take care of business, and Chloe had needed to get ready to leave. Merek had been married before, had had several long-term girlfriends in his life; he knew what “just a minute” translated to in woman-speak. He figured he had a half an hour wait on his hands, at least.
He shook his head, snorted a laugh.
He was insane. That was the official diagnosis. He was completely and utterly insane. Selina had agreed with that assessment when he’d called her that morning to let her know he was going on extended and indefinite leave. She’d also laughed her smoky laugh that this was all over a woman who nullified his precognition. Growling a few choice curse words at her had only made his partner laugh harder.
Hanging up on her would have been satisfying, but the truth was . . . she was right.
Forty-eight hours ago, he’d never have imagined anything could convince him to put his career aside. Just two days ago, he was a cynical workaholic cop who survived on caffeine and had no real life to speak of. He hadn’t wanted one. He’d put all that aside when his wife died. His work had been the only thing that got him through every day, so much so that a lot of days he hadn’t even bothered to go home.
Then again, he’d made sure the apartment had been emptied of anything that reminded him of the past. When he’d moved to Seattle from Chicago, he’d gotten rid of every memento of his wife and family. Sold what he could and stored what he couldn’t, and then his place had been devoid of anything that would . . . encourage him to stay.
He worked. That was all he did, all he cared about. His whole life was a driving need to keep as many people from going through what he’d been through as possible. It helped with the guilt, the sense of failure. Not a lot, but it helped. Nothing else did, so he went with what worked for him.
And that meant his job. He enjoyed the challenge, liked pitting his mind, body, and abilities against people who were trying to get away with shit. The adrenaline rush beat just about everything but full penetration sex.
Sex and work just circled him right back around to Chloe. The only woman he’d ever lost control with to have sex at work. The only woman he’d ever been willing to give up work for. Brutal honesty had gotten him through the days and months after his best friend’s death, his parents’ accident, then his wife’s murder, and he had to ask himself if he was simply giving up one obsession to replace it with another.
He couldn’t imagine getting the craving for Chloe out of his blood, hadn’t been able to get her out of his head for two months, hadn’t been able to stop himself from going after her the day before. For once, he was grateful to have lost control. It might even be the first time he’d been grateful for such a thing. But if he hadn’t, he might have lost her permanently.
No. Just no. That was not an option he was willing to consider. Not now, not ever. Chloe dead.
Not on his watch. And for better or worse, he’d made certain she was his responsibility. Temporarily. Someone like her, someone blank to his clairvoyance, could never be allowed to stay in his life as anything more than a temporary duty. But while he had her, he would give up anything to defend her.
For a man who’d gone from having nothing but his work to hold his attention, he’d had some serious priority shifts in the last day. He now had an irresistible witch to protect, along with her familiar and her teenage werewolf godson. Without any aid from any other law enforcement agency or official. He—they—were on their own.
This was going to go great.
His bags were packed and loaded in his car. He’d done so without hesitation, the same way he’d looked up Chloe’s next of kin in her file and found Mildred Standish’s personal number. He’d called and laid out the bare facts to the woman, hoping she had the same grit as her niece. From what he’d heard—and who hadn’t heard of Millie Standish?—he’d had a feeling Chloe was a chip off the old block. Seeing the women in the same room had only confirmed it for him. Without even trying, the women were a force of nature, sweeping in and changing everything in their path. Loyal, tough, smart, protective, and feisty as hell. It was a little scary that he could see exactly what Chloe would be like in a hundred years. It was even scarier that he liked the thought.
He didn’t want to think about what that meant.
“All righty, then.” The door to the bathroom swung open, and Chloe stepped out, looking fresh and clean and so damn gorgeous he wanted to drag her to the floor, strip her naked, and take her hard until they were both panting. She grinned at him, smoothing a hand down the sleeve of her sweater. “What?”
“Nothing.” He checked his watch. Under ten minutes. And she’d even done her makeup. He was impressed. “You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be. So, no. But since I don’t have a choice, let’s get this show on the road.” She dumped the used hospital gown on the bed. “Is all of my medical paperwork taken care of?”
“Yeah, you’ve been discharged. Millie handled it.”
Dimples flashed in Chloe’s cheeks. “Handy to have around, isn’t she?”
“You said it.” He shrugged and couldn’t help the smile that sprang to his lips. “That old witch is scary as hell, but as long as she likes me, I figure that’s just fine.”
“Yep.” Chloe scooped up her purse and led the way out of her room. “That’s the standard reaction to Mildred Standish. Until she decides she doesn’t like you. Then the correct reaction is to duck, cover, and run in a zigzag pattern as you try to escape the lightning bolts she sends shooting after you to fry your ass.”
He chuckled, put a hand on the small of her back to steer her toward the parking garage and his car. “There’s a nice visual.”
“Family gatherings are entertaining.” She gave a delicate shrug, lowering her voice as they left the Magickal ward of the hospital. “Mostly there’s just Millie and me, but when the extended Standish clan descends, it’s an Event. Capital E, Event. Especially if Aunt Millie and her sister Amaranth dig out their stash of genuine Prohibition bootleg whiskey and start telling war stories.” She shot a glance over her shoulder at him, her eyes sparkling. “Then they have to prove who can cast the best spells, and it turns into a proper witches’ duel, because we do it right in our family, but a witches’ duel when you’re soused ends up with . . . um . . . special results. Funny, but special.”
He snorted, but enjoyed the feel of her skin under his fingertips as he held her arm to help her into his car. The passenger side this time. “Cops get called in for special things like that going wrong.”
Fastening her seatbelt as he slid behind the wheel, she gave another shrug. “It’s on private property—a lot of it—and they do have seconds in their duels, so we can keep things from getting out of hand.”
“You’ve been a second?” He couldn’t help a grin. The dynamic duo facing down a happy, drunken pair of witches had to be a sight to see. It was stupid, irresponsible, and foolish to engage in that kind of reckless use of magic, but he could picture the hilarity of the situation too clearly not to have to fight back a chuckle.
“For Millie, of course.” Chloe waved a dismissive hand through the air, the gesture reminiscent of her aunt. “Amaranth would never lower herself to asking the halfling, even though I’m more powerful than a lot of other witches and warlocks in the family. Luckily, being a second just means we know how to douse flames and reverse transformation spells that make old women grow chin hairs and nose warts.”
Something in her voice made him cast a sharp glance at her face. “You’re a halfling?”
“Mom was a Normal. Grandfather Standish disowned my dad for marrying her.” She turned her head away from him to stare out the window as if she’d never before seen the streets that led to her house. “Of course, by the time my parents passed away, the old bastard was long dead, so no one could protest when Millie took me in and reinstated my father’s—and, th
erefore, my—inheritance.”
There was more to the story than that, he was sure, but he was also sure she wasn’t going to say more about it. He didn’t like her keeping things from him. He didn’t like that she tried to hold herself apart, stand alone, even though his brain said it was probably the best thing for all concerned. They didn’t have to get too deep with each other, even if they were sharing space for the next while. His instincts told his brain that this woman was his, and any distance between them was intolerable.
Temporarily. She was a case, a job, and anything more than that was temporary. She was important to him, because she created a void in his visions, because she was just her, but that didn’t mean she’d always be important. Just long enough for him to know she wasn’t in danger anymore. He hated that he had to keep reminding himself of the simple truth with this assignment.
How the hell had he gotten into this situation?
A pensive frown creased Merek’s forehead as he sat on her bed and watched her pack for their little trip. AKA the relocation of her entire life. Better than being dead or tortured some more, so Chloe didn’t complain. She just stuffed her life into the two suitcases Merek said she was allowed to take. If she used enlarging spells to fit a few extras in, that was her business. As he’d dictated, she left anything but sensible clothes behind. She put her foot down at no makeup, though.
He leaned back on his hands and crossed his ankles. “Why do you do what you do? You’re drugging yourself for your job, so you have to know how dangerous this werewolf project is. It’s controversial, at best.”
“Yeah, that is the best I’ve heard it called. I don’t care much about how controversial it is. Magickal politics are Millie’s specialty, not mine.” She shrugged and looked away, trying not to notice how delicious his muscular form looked sprawled across her mattress. She cleared her throat and focused on his question, not his lickable body. “I’m doing it for a friend who passed away.”
“Alex’s mother, you said. A werewolf.”
“Yeah.” She swallowed past the lump that still formed in her throat all these years later. Losing a loved one never really stopped hurting. “Jaya Nemov. She was best friends with Tess and me in med school. Tess never knew about her or how she really died, of course.”
“The full moon Change.” Merek sat up, and the bedsprings squeaked under his weight. His gray eyes were serious and sympathetic all at once, making the lump in her throat expand. “I’m sorry you lost her.”
“Me, too. She was one of the best people I’ve ever met.” A sad smile curved her lips. “I guess that old Normal saying is right—the good die young.”
“Huh.” His eyebrow arched, and he pinched the crease in his slacks. “I’m going to live forever.”
“Me, too. Cantankerous witch that I am.”
He chuckled, and the rich, sensual sound made her want to jump him. She already liked him too much. He was strong and brave and sexy and protective, and he’d volunteered to put his life on hold just to help her and Alex. What kind of man did something like that? A good one. She liked him. She wanted him. And she wasn’t sure acting on that attraction again was good for either of them in the long run.
So, she jerked around and sorted through her shoes to collect the most comfortable ones she owned. Tossing them at her suitcase, she looked everywhere except at Merek as she searched her room for more things she couldn’t live without.
The mattress creaked again as Merek rose to his feet. Having him in her space was unnerving. As many times as she’d relived her night with him in her dreams, she’d never pictured him here. She’d just remembered how it was in his room, in his bed; she hadn’t added on to the fantasy. Now she didn’t have to fantasize. He was here, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. She had no idea if he’d decide she was still too injured, or if that would just be an excuse to say he thought their doing anything again was a colossal mistake. She wasn’t even sure she disagreed with that logic. He was her bodyguard now, which changed their relationship, such as it was.
The mere thought of a relationship sent a chill down her spine. It was so much easier when it was just sex. A one-night stand. She refused to let herself think about the fact that none of her other handful of lovers had ever stuck in her head the way he had. Her sex clenched and dampened at the memories parading in erotic detail through her mind, that first night and then the sheer excitement of his taking her against his desk.
Awareness rippled over her skin as he prowled around her room, big and armed and sexy and dangerous on every possible level. His intent gaze sliced into her, and she tried to stomp down on her reaction to him.
“Tell me about her.”
“Who, Jaya?” She swayed a bit on her feet, but forced herself to stuff her toiletries into a travel case.
“Yes, Jaya.” His eyebrows drew together as if in confusion. Then again, he had no idea where her thoughts had wandered. She rolled her eyes at herself.
“She was . . . awesome.” She dropped onto her bed and organized everything into her two suitcases. It might all fit. With some magical help. If she kept talking, maybe Merek wouldn’t notice a few spells buzzing through the air. “Jaya was one of those people who grabs onto life and lives every single second of it like it’s her last. She pulled everyone else into this whirlwind of fun and energy. She was intense. You couldn’t help but have a good time when she was around.” Those bittersweet memories crashed into her all at once. She swallowed and dropped her face into her hands, pressing her fingertips to her eyelids. “It wasn’t until years later that I figured out she lived every moment like it was her last because she knew it might be.”
His hard hand closed over her shoulder, more comfort than she’d thought possible in that simple gesture. “She was sick? I thought wolves couldn’t—”
“Not sick, exactly.” Running her fingers through her hair, she fought the urge to pull him down to the mattress with her. “Her family had a history of dying during the Change. It was like her own personal Sword of Damocles hanging over her head. She pointed that intensity at finding a treatment for the Change, something to make it easier to survive, more controllable. I sometimes wonder if she knew that her time was limited, if she somehow sensed that she wouldn’t live to see Alex grow up, but she wanted to make sure that she left behind a future brighter than the one she’d faced. I wonder if it was all to save him, rather than to save herself.”
He squeezed her shoulder, then slid his hand up and down her back. “She sounds like a hell of a woman.”
“She was. She was my best friend and she was just . . . beautiful inside and out. Alex has his father’s green eyes, but the bronze skin and dark hair are all Jaya. His face is even a male version of hers.” She grinned, finally able to meet his gaze as all the good times streamed through her mind. “Alex was just like her.”
“Alex?” The doubt was plain in Merek’s voice. “The kid is intense, yeah, but not—”
“Fun? No. Not anymore, anyway. He was there when she died. All I know is that Ivan and Jaya fought that day. A big, rip-roaring shouting match and total relationship meltdown. It was a full moon that night.” She seesawed her hand through the air. “Alex and Ivan completed the shift and Jaya . . . didn’t. Change can be so unpredictable, and wolf magic fluctuates so much at full moon. More than most Magickals would guess, and far more than I realized before I started my research. Though some werewolves maintain control better than others, anything that throws a wolf off-balance can be the difference between controlling the full moon shift and not. Jaya’s getting into a fight . . .”
“What did they fight about?”
“I don’t know. That’s all I’ve ever been able to drag out of Alex. He and his father never talk about her. Absolutely never.” Her voice broke on that last sentence, and she cleared her throat. “It’s a shame, really, because she was so wonderful. Her life should be celebrated. She should be remembered.”
Merek sat down beside her, his hand still warm and sol
id on her back. “You remember her.”
“Yeah. I do.” She gave a small smile and sighed. “I hope Alex gets to the point that he can ask about her someday. It’d be criminal if the only thing he ever associates with her is fighting and a horrible death.”
He pulled her close, tucking her against his chest. “If anyone can help him get there, it’s you.”
“Thanks.” She half laughed, half sighed. He had more faith in her than she did, but she let herself lean against him and absorb some of this strength. Just for a moment, she’d allow herself the weakness. The desire to touch him and taste him was eclipsed only by the need to let him comfort and care for her. The feeling was powerful enough to scare her, so she did the only thing she could do—she ripped herself free of his arms and hurried to her closet to grab a Seattle Seahawks baseball cap she hadn’t worn in years.
He reached for her again when she tossed the hat into her suitcase, but she flinched away. Her hormones were rioting, and she didn’t trust herself to get near him. Not again. His expression flattened, and he stood to glare down at her. “What’s going on, Chloe?”
What was going on was that she wanted him so badly her hands shook like an addict looking for a fix. She fisted her fingers at her sides. They were going to have to play nice for the next few weeks or months or however long it took Luca to wrap up this case with Smith—and she refused to think that he might never catch the guy—so she might as well lay her chips on the table. Alex didn’t need a tense environment to live in, and his comfort and safety were more important to her than anything else. She met Merek’s gaze squarely. “Look, we’re going to be stuck together for a while, so you should know your bodyguard job duties don’t include being a gigolo. I appreciate your doing this for Alex and me, and I’m not going to jump you again like I did at the safe house. Your virtue, or whatever’s left of it, is safe with me. Not a single seduction spell will I cast.”
“Well, that’s a shame.” He moved around behind her, his breath ruffling the hair at her temple.
Embrace the Night Page 10
