her arms still hooked around his neck. “So you wanted to kill José?”
“Yeah. I almost did, too. Then I worked it out in my head.”
“Or his head.”
“I guess you could say that.”
She yawned. “You want to sleep with me tonight?”
“Thought I already did.”
She thumped his shoulder. “In bed, idiot.”
He squeezed her ass. “Did you actually think I was going anywhere else?”
She laughed. “No, I guess not.”
He shuddered.
“What?” she asked.
“We get to sleep together … all night.”
“Thorne, please … please don’t get too used to this.”
He gave her a soft smile. “No worries, not right now. Let’s just get some rest. We’ll figure things out tomorrow. And since there are Seers in this colony, maybe they’ll have some insight about your visions.”
“Okay.”
He thumbed her cheek and stared into her eyes.
His gaze was full of something she didn’t quite recognize except that it warmed up her chest all over again and made her put her lips against his. He kissed her fiercely, pushing his tongue inside her mouth, a kind of claiming.
She wrapped her arms more tightly around his neck.
He kissed her for a long time. Because he’d firmed up inside her again, she wondered if he was headed toward a second round. She wouldn’t have said no, but suddenly she was really tired.
“Okay, bedtime.” But he sighed heavily as he withdrew from her, as if he didn’t like being apart either.
He flipped the lever and the cold water came on. “Sorry, there’s no hot water left.”
She didn’t mind the cold so much. She’d been used to it for decades in the Convent.
He stepped out of the shower as she finished up. When she finally emerged, he had a towel waiting for her, holding it wide. She stepped into it and he wrapped her up from behind.
Why the hell did he have to be such a nice guy? Didn’t he know this was killing her?
* * *
After a night of working the darkening, in which she lost sleep keeping death vampires from being shipped to the Metro Phoenix Two area, Endelle wasn’t in the mood to be polite. She had never been so fucking agitated in her entire life. She felt like a thousand little ants were gnawing on her nerve endings. Where the hell was Thorne and why hadn’t he come back, preferably with Marguerite strapped across his back?
Fucking morons.
She paced the weird tree room in Jean-Pierre’s house, having decided she needed a break from her office in her administrative HQ. Fiona sat on the huge branch that bent sideways from the main trunk, swinging her legs and smiling up at her warrior from time to time. He stood behind her and had his arms draped over her shoulders.
These latest lovebirds gave her the scratch.
“I had to get out of the office.”
“You are always welcome in our home,” Jean-Pierre said, his French accent as easy as a wet dream.
She waved an arm. “What the hell kind of room is this anyway and what’s with the walls? They have to be ten feet and then there’s this huge-ass tree growing straight through the floor.”
“I built the floor around the tree when it was young and trained this branch. I often sit here to think. It is an Arizona sycamore. The fragrance is very sharp from the leaves, especially after a rain.”
“Whatever.” She slapped her leather skirt and watched both pairs of eyes drift to the floor and back. She looked down. “Shit. These garden-variety snail shells just aren’t holding up like I thought they would.” She had glued them in a nice curve right over her crotch, but most of them were busted up and there were bits and pieces on the thick glass that made up the floor of the strange round room.
Fiona started biting her lip and examining her nails.
“What? Are you laughing at my skirt?” She was so not in the mood to be laughed at.
Fiona pinched her lips together and shook her head. Then she started coughing.
“You are such a ninny.”
But that apparently set Fiona off, and she
“Yeah. I almost did, too. Then I worked it out in my head.”
“Or his head.”
“I guess you could say that.”
She yawned. “You want to sleep with me tonight?”
“Thought I already did.”
She thumped his shoulder. “In bed, idiot.”
He squeezed her ass. “Did you actually think I was going anywhere else?”
She laughed. “No, I guess not.”
He shuddered.
“What?” she asked.
“We get to sleep together … all night.”
“Thorne, please … please don’t get too used to this.”
He gave her a soft smile. “No worries, not right now. Let’s just get some rest. We’ll figure things out tomorrow. And since there are Seers in this colony, maybe they’ll have some insight about your visions.”
“Okay.”
He thumbed her cheek and stared into her eyes.
His gaze was full of something she didn’t quite recognize except that it warmed up her chest all over again and made her put her lips against his. He kissed her fiercely, pushing his tongue inside her mouth, a kind of claiming.
She wrapped her arms more tightly around his neck.
He kissed her for a long time. Because he’d firmed up inside her again, she wondered if he was headed toward a second round. She wouldn’t have said no, but suddenly she was really tired.
“Okay, bedtime.” But he sighed heavily as he withdrew from her, as if he didn’t like being apart either.
He flipped the lever and the cold water came on. “Sorry, there’s no hot water left.”
She didn’t mind the cold so much. She’d been used to it for decades in the Convent.
He stepped out of the shower as she finished up. When she finally emerged, he had a towel waiting for her, holding it wide. She stepped into it and he wrapped her up from behind.
Why the hell did he have to be such a nice guy? Didn’t he know this was killing her?
* * *
After a night of working the darkening, in which she lost sleep keeping death vampires from being shipped to the Metro Phoenix Two area, Endelle wasn’t in the mood to be polite. She had never been so fucking agitated in her entire life. She felt like a thousand little ants were gnawing on her nerve endings. Where the hell was Thorne and why hadn’t he come back, preferably with Marguerite strapped across his back?
Fucking morons.
She paced the weird tree room in Jean-Pierre’s house, having decided she needed a break from her office in her administrative HQ. Fiona sat on the huge branch that bent sideways from the main trunk, swinging her legs and smiling up at her warrior from time to time. He stood behind her and had his arms draped over her shoulders.
These latest lovebirds gave her the scratch.
“I had to get out of the office.”
“You are always welcome in our home,” Jean-Pierre said, his French accent as easy as a wet dream.
She waved an arm. “What the hell kind of room is this anyway and what’s with the walls? They have to be ten feet and then there’s this huge-ass tree growing straight through the floor.”
“I built the floor around the tree when it was young and trained this branch. I often sit here to think. It is an Arizona sycamore. The fragrance is very sharp from the leaves, especially after a rain.”
“Whatever.” She slapped her leather skirt and watched both pairs of eyes drift to the floor and back. She looked down. “Shit. These garden-variety snail shells just aren’t holding up like I thought they would.” She had glued them in a nice curve right over her crotch, but most of them were busted up and there were bits and pieces on the thick glass that made up the floor of the strange round room.
Fiona started biting her lip and examining her nails.
“What? Are you laughing at my skirt?” She was so not in the mood to be laughed at.
Fiona pinched her lips together and shook her head. Then she started coughing.
“You are such a ninny.”
But that apparently set Fiona off, and she
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