argued. “Squeezing peach juice into it is revolting.”
“You’re just jealous because I can drink it and you can’t,” she said, laughing as he took the glass from her. “Don’t do it,” she warned as he lifted it to his lips. “Remember what happened when you tried my favorite champagne?”
“I beg your pardon,” he said as he returned the glass to her hands. “Refresh my memory. Who was it who said champagne was simply fizzy wine?”
“I said to take a sip, like so.” She sipped the tea, her eyes smiling at him over the rim. “Not drink half the bottle.”
He gathered her against him. “Give me a taste.” When she lifted the glass to his lips, he took it and set it aside. “Not like that.”
The sharp smell of lemon made Will look down. He had crushed the lemon in his hand, and all that remained of it was a pulpy mess. He discarded the pulverized fruit, took another from the bowl, and sliced it before carrying the tray out to the front rooms.
His master lay on the floor with the mortal female atop him.
“All the way through, love,” Robin said. “Half measures don’t work on my kind.”
“I am through playing this game, Robin.”
“So am I.”
Will smelled blood and bergamot, and hurried forward. When he saw that Chris held a knife to his master’s throat, the tray dropped out of his hands and smashed to the floor. “Bloody hell.”
“Stay where you are, Will. Whatever she does to me, you will not touch her.” Robin didn’t look away from the mortal’s reddened face. “Kill me and it will be over. My seneschal will not harm you. But the contessa will see to it that hundreds will die—humans and Kyn, my entire jardin . One of them will be your partner.”
Her head turned from side to side. “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe any of this.”
“If I give you proof, will you help me get the book?”
Chris sat up and took the dagger away from Robin’s neck. Will caught his breath when he saw the shallow wound on his master’s throat, which promptly disappeared. The federal agent held herself rigid, and a strange look came over her face.
Will knew that look, and went to gently remove the blade from her fingers. She didn’t try to keep hold of it.
“It can’t be real.” Chris tottered to her feet, her arms hanging limp at her sides as she stared down at his master. “You can’t be.” She put out an arm, and her eyes rolled up into her head.
Will got to her before she collapsed, and lifted her into his arms. The paleness of her young face made him sigh. “I’ll make more tea.”
Robin got up from the floor. “Put her in my bedchamber,” he said. “And bolt the door.”
Will placed Chris on Robin’s bed, removing her heels and covering her with the linens before he straightened. She might be more interested in jailing his master than bedding him, but she was only human. The faint dark half circles under her eyes and a small gnaw mark on her lower lip tugged at his heart.
“Poor girl,” he murmured. “You’ve had a time of it tonight, you have.” He tucked the coverlet around her and turned off the bedside lamp before he left, carefully locking the door behind him.
He found Robin on the phone, talking to the contessa. “Nottingham will be landing in Italy in a few hours. He is beyond my reach now. I cannot retrieve the manuscript for you.”
Will went to pick up the broken crockery from the tray. As he cleaned up the mess, he listened to his master argue with Salvatora.
“She will be a hindrance to me,” Robin said at last, and looked at Will. “I shall leave her here with my seneschal. He will keep her sequestered until my return.”
When Will saw him look at the screen on the phone, he came over and saw that the contessa had sent a video of a black mortal being brutally beaten. Will recognized him as one of the federal agents working at the gallery—the one Dennis had called “Hutch.”
“I’ve seen enough,” Robin said. “Stop before
“You’re just jealous because I can drink it and you can’t,” she said, laughing as he took the glass from her. “Don’t do it,” she warned as he lifted it to his lips. “Remember what happened when you tried my favorite champagne?”
“I beg your pardon,” he said as he returned the glass to her hands. “Refresh my memory. Who was it who said champagne was simply fizzy wine?”
“I said to take a sip, like so.” She sipped the tea, her eyes smiling at him over the rim. “Not drink half the bottle.”
He gathered her against him. “Give me a taste.” When she lifted the glass to his lips, he took it and set it aside. “Not like that.”
The sharp smell of lemon made Will look down. He had crushed the lemon in his hand, and all that remained of it was a pulpy mess. He discarded the pulverized fruit, took another from the bowl, and sliced it before carrying the tray out to the front rooms.
His master lay on the floor with the mortal female atop him.
“All the way through, love,” Robin said. “Half measures don’t work on my kind.”
“I am through playing this game, Robin.”
“So am I.”
Will smelled blood and bergamot, and hurried forward. When he saw that Chris held a knife to his master’s throat, the tray dropped out of his hands and smashed to the floor. “Bloody hell.”
“Stay where you are, Will. Whatever she does to me, you will not touch her.” Robin didn’t look away from the mortal’s reddened face. “Kill me and it will be over. My seneschal will not harm you. But the contessa will see to it that hundreds will die—humans and Kyn, my entire jardin . One of them will be your partner.”
Her head turned from side to side. “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe any of this.”
“If I give you proof, will you help me get the book?”
Chris sat up and took the dagger away from Robin’s neck. Will caught his breath when he saw the shallow wound on his master’s throat, which promptly disappeared. The federal agent held herself rigid, and a strange look came over her face.
Will knew that look, and went to gently remove the blade from her fingers. She didn’t try to keep hold of it.
“It can’t be real.” Chris tottered to her feet, her arms hanging limp at her sides as she stared down at his master. “You can’t be.” She put out an arm, and her eyes rolled up into her head.
Will got to her before she collapsed, and lifted her into his arms. The paleness of her young face made him sigh. “I’ll make more tea.”
Robin got up from the floor. “Put her in my bedchamber,” he said. “And bolt the door.”
Will placed Chris on Robin’s bed, removing her heels and covering her with the linens before he straightened. She might be more interested in jailing his master than bedding him, but she was only human. The faint dark half circles under her eyes and a small gnaw mark on her lower lip tugged at his heart.
“Poor girl,” he murmured. “You’ve had a time of it tonight, you have.” He tucked the coverlet around her and turned off the bedside lamp before he left, carefully locking the door behind him.
He found Robin on the phone, talking to the contessa. “Nottingham will be landing in Italy in a few hours. He is beyond my reach now. I cannot retrieve the manuscript for you.”
Will went to pick up the broken crockery from the tray. As he cleaned up the mess, he listened to his master argue with Salvatora.
“She will be a hindrance to me,” Robin said at last, and looked at Will. “I shall leave her here with my seneschal. He will keep her sequestered until my return.”
When Will saw him look at the screen on the phone, he came over and saw that the contessa had sent a video of a black mortal being brutally beaten. Will recognized him as one of the federal agents working at the gallery—the one Dennis had called “Hutch.”
“I’ve seen enough,” Robin said. “Stop before
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