those kinds of bad things.
Please let her mean those bad things.
She turned so I could get a good look at her ass too. Lordy. Someone spent time in the gym. Or chasing after her brother’s killer. I hear revenge is a great full-body workout.
She turned back to me. With guns in her hands.
“There’s some mixed signals,” I said.
“This,” she said, “is to get your attention. How am I doing so far?” She bent at the waist so I got a good eyeful of her guns.
She pressed her hands on her hips. Had a Glock in each hand.
I wasn’t sure which guns I was supposed to be looking at.
I gave her my best Flynn smile. “I like where this is going.”
She straightened and I made an effort to pull my gaze up from her panties, her flat stomach, the birthmark just over her hipbone, the curve of breasts, and all the way up to those merciless blues. Got lost in the blues for a moment or two.
“Good,” she said. “Because I’m just getting started. Are you fully awake, Shamus?”
“How about you untie me so we can find out?”
She shook her head, walked across the room to a crappy table there, with an even crappier chair. Wood. Scuffed legs, no padding. Probably matched the one I was sitting on.
She lifted it, walked toward me.
“I’m going to try this one more time,” she said. “Talking you into seeing things my way.”
She turned the chair so that the back of it was toward me.
“I asked nice last time. This time I’m not going to ask so very nicely.” She spread her legs and straddled the chair.
Mercy.
Everything went white noise for a moment or two while I did what I could to put out the fire in my groin.
Don’t think of her mouth. Don’t think of her breasts. Don’t think of her thighs.
“...heard stories about the great Shamus Flynn,” she was saying.
“All true,” I interrupted. I had no idea what she was talking about.
“Good,” she said. “Because I heard you killed Jingo Jingo, one of the strongest Death magic users around at the fight in St. Johns. And you single-handedly devoured six professional magic users—drained them down so there weren’t even bodies to bury. Then you took on two dead Soul Complements who tried to end the world. You came out of all of that still standing and were made into the head of the magic users in Portland.”
Okay, now she was getting specific. These were things that were only known to the Authority. Maybe she’d dug through some top secret files the FBI or CIA had set up after the apocalypse to try to make sense of the whole ancient organization of secret magic users that had been operating under their noses since before they had noses.
But what she most certainly had not done was get access to this information in any easy or legal manner.
“Who do you work for again?” I asked.
“Now, now,” she said. “That wouldn’t be any fun. First you tell me a little something I want to know. Then I’ll tell you something you want.”
Her hand slipped up her thigh, stopping just short of her hip. She licked her bottom lip and smiled.
She was so playing me.
I loved it.
However, the rope she’d tied me up with was weighted down with Void stones. While that would make it harder for me to use magic, I could still get out of the ropes if I wanted to. But I didn’t want to—yet.
“Who killed your brother?” I asked.
She raised one eyebrow and leaned forward into the back of the chair. Jesus, I wanted to be that chair.
“Tell me if you’re as deadly as they say you are, Shame. Prove to me all those rumors are true. Better yet . . . show me.”
Really? That’s what she wanted to know about me? If I could kill people?
Fine.
I relaxed my hold against the darkness inside me. Let my hunger stretch out and breathe. Brought the monster front and center.
I tipped my head just a bit. Caught her gaze. And held it until her smile dropped away. Held it until she shifted her grip on the Glocks. Held it until she instinctively turned the guns on
Please let her mean those bad things.
She turned so I could get a good look at her ass too. Lordy. Someone spent time in the gym. Or chasing after her brother’s killer. I hear revenge is a great full-body workout.
She turned back to me. With guns in her hands.
“There’s some mixed signals,” I said.
“This,” she said, “is to get your attention. How am I doing so far?” She bent at the waist so I got a good eyeful of her guns.
She pressed her hands on her hips. Had a Glock in each hand.
I wasn’t sure which guns I was supposed to be looking at.
I gave her my best Flynn smile. “I like where this is going.”
She straightened and I made an effort to pull my gaze up from her panties, her flat stomach, the birthmark just over her hipbone, the curve of breasts, and all the way up to those merciless blues. Got lost in the blues for a moment or two.
“Good,” she said. “Because I’m just getting started. Are you fully awake, Shamus?”
“How about you untie me so we can find out?”
She shook her head, walked across the room to a crappy table there, with an even crappier chair. Wood. Scuffed legs, no padding. Probably matched the one I was sitting on.
She lifted it, walked toward me.
“I’m going to try this one more time,” she said. “Talking you into seeing things my way.”
She turned the chair so that the back of it was toward me.
“I asked nice last time. This time I’m not going to ask so very nicely.” She spread her legs and straddled the chair.
Mercy.
Everything went white noise for a moment or two while I did what I could to put out the fire in my groin.
Don’t think of her mouth. Don’t think of her breasts. Don’t think of her thighs.
“...heard stories about the great Shamus Flynn,” she was saying.
“All true,” I interrupted. I had no idea what she was talking about.
“Good,” she said. “Because I heard you killed Jingo Jingo, one of the strongest Death magic users around at the fight in St. Johns. And you single-handedly devoured six professional magic users—drained them down so there weren’t even bodies to bury. Then you took on two dead Soul Complements who tried to end the world. You came out of all of that still standing and were made into the head of the magic users in Portland.”
Okay, now she was getting specific. These were things that were only known to the Authority. Maybe she’d dug through some top secret files the FBI or CIA had set up after the apocalypse to try to make sense of the whole ancient organization of secret magic users that had been operating under their noses since before they had noses.
But what she most certainly had not done was get access to this information in any easy or legal manner.
“Who do you work for again?” I asked.
“Now, now,” she said. “That wouldn’t be any fun. First you tell me a little something I want to know. Then I’ll tell you something you want.”
Her hand slipped up her thigh, stopping just short of her hip. She licked her bottom lip and smiled.
She was so playing me.
I loved it.
However, the rope she’d tied me up with was weighted down with Void stones. While that would make it harder for me to use magic, I could still get out of the ropes if I wanted to. But I didn’t want to—yet.
“Who killed your brother?” I asked.
She raised one eyebrow and leaned forward into the back of the chair. Jesus, I wanted to be that chair.
“Tell me if you’re as deadly as they say you are, Shame. Prove to me all those rumors are true. Better yet . . . show me.”
Really? That’s what she wanted to know about me? If I could kill people?
Fine.
I relaxed my hold against the darkness inside me. Let my hunger stretch out and breathe. Brought the monster front and center.
I tipped my head just a bit. Caught her gaze. And held it until her smile dropped away. Held it until she shifted her grip on the Glocks. Held it until she instinctively turned the guns on
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