Circle of Death by Keri Arthur Page B

stench in the room.
    Soon there was nothing left but a pile of ash on the floor. Kirby walked in, her gaze sweeping the room until she found him. “Are you all right?”
    Though she was pale, the left side of her face was red, as if burned, and bits of dust and wood were caught in her hair.
    “Are you?” he countered abruptly. “Did the spell on the door hurt you too much?”
    She shook her head, but her gaze skated from his. Tears shimmered in her green eyes, and her mind was filled with pain. He winced as he stood and walked toward her. She didn’t retreat, didn’t move in any way. It was almost as if she were frozen by what she’d done.
    I’ve never used the energy to intentionally kill before.
    The thought whispered through him, filled with such horror it nearly took his breath away. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She tensed, her gaze searching his briefly before she relaxed in his embrace and rested her cheek against his shoulder.
    He held her close, listening to the wild beat of her heart—a rhythm that matched his own. Her body fitted his like a glove. She felt so warm against him, so right, somehow. It was as if he’d found the other half of himself. He closed his eyes at the thought. His father had once told him he would know when he found his mate. That it would hit him like a fist to the gut—suddenly, painfully. He had a horrible feeling the old man was right.
    “You had no choice but to kill it,” he said. “I certainly don’t think I would have survived another round with it.”
    He breathed deep the scent of her. She reminded him of spring—fresh and warm and rich with the scent of flowers.
    She pulled back slightly, and he instantly regretted speaking.
    “What was it?” Her breath washed warmth across his neck and stirred the already flaring embers of desire.
    “Zombie,” he said, gently picking a sliver of wood from her hair. “And dead long before you got to it.”
    Tears gleamed briefly in her eyes. She blinked them away and touched his cheek, her hand cool against his flesh. She must have taken his gloves off to use her magic.
    “You look like shit.” A smile touched her lips. Lips that looked all too warm and inviting.
    “Strange,” he murmured. “It’s just what I feel like.”
    God, he wanted to kiss her so desperately it hurt, but she’d run the minute he tried. She was just starting to trust him, and he didn’t dare do anything that might shatter that trust. Especially when her living or dying might well depend on his ability to keep close.
    He stepped back. Sirens were wailing in the distance. They might not be headed here, but with the noise the zombie had made, they couldn’t risk staying any longer. Not with Rachel Grant lying dead downstairs. “We’d better get going.”
    She nodded. “With all the noise I made getting in the door, the neighbors are probably awake and standing out front, wondering what’s going on.”
    “Then we’ll go out the way I came in. Through the window.”
    She raised an eyebrow. “The windows are boarded up.”
    “Only the ones on the ground floor.” He caught her hand, entwining his fingers in hers. “Let’s go.”
    He stopped in the hall long enough to put on his shoes and pick up his coat, then continued on into the other room. Pain twinged down his side at every movement, but it wasn’t the sharp, excruciating pain of broken ribs. He was lucky, that was for sure.
    A quick peek out the window showed lots of lights but no cops, as yet. And while there were no neighbors standing on the sidewalk, either, that didn’t mean they weren’t around. It was going to be a little tricky getting out, but he’d certainly been caught in worse situations during his time as a thief.
    He raised the window. “Keep close to the wall,” he said. “And squat down, so you present less of a silhouette.”
    She studied him. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
    She was either very intuitive or she was reading his mind as