was the one who had Robin’s threat meter topping out.
He tried to convince himself that MacSweeney’s interest in Michaela had nothing to do with it, but Robin was not in the habit of lying to himself. If MacSweeney tried to take Robin’s woman, he’d discover just why Robin was Oberon’s personal Blade. There would be nothing left of the Raven Lord, not even smoke and ashes.
MacSweeney darted down a corridor and Robin followed. It was less populated here as convention goers darted into rooms and took seats. MacSweeney paused, watching one doorway in particular. Robin faded from sight and drifted forward, looking into the room that had Raven’s undivided attention.
Robin frowned. He recognized that pair of rotten pumpkin wings bouncing their way back out the door.
Damn. The Fear Dearc was rumored to have fearsome powers, and Robin did not wish to test them around so many humans. The ensuing fight could damage or destroy many lives, something Oberon would wish Robin to avoid if at all possible.
“Michaela.”
Then again, there was always a first time for everything.
Michaela paused, smiling at MacSweeney like he was her long-lost brother. The only thing that kept Robin sane was the fact that the heat, so prevalent in her gaze when she looked at Ringo, was absent. “Raven! How’s the art thing going?”
Art? What in blue blazes was she talking about? And since when was she on a first-name basis with the bastard?
“I’m not really an artist. Not professionally, anyway.” MacSweeney leaned against the wall, effectively cutting Michaela from the herd.
“What do you do, then? Because I have to say, I think you could make a living off your art.”
MacSweeney’s shoulders moved in an almost-shrug. “I’m in security.”
Michaela laughed. Robin moved so that his view wasn’t blocked by MacSweeney’s broad, soon-to-be-decomposing back. “I have a friend who told me earlier he’s in the same business.”
Shit. Well, Robin had already effectively broken his cover, but if MacSweeney confirmed Robin’s interest in Michaela…
“Oh? Who?”
“Ringo.” Her cheeks flushed.
MacSweeney’s head tilted. “Ringo? Like the Beatle?”
Michaela wrinkled her nose and grinned. “Like the Japanese word for apple.”
“You’ll have to introduce me sometime.”
When hell freezes over. Out of the corner of his eye, Robin noted Jaden’s presence. So the vampire hadn’t lost sight of his charge after all. To all but the most discerning eye, the vampire was invisible.
“I think you’d get along. Unless you’re business rivals.” She smiled sweetly. “Then, maybe not so much.”
MacSweeney chuckled and reached out. He brushed his fingertips along Michaela’s arm. “Have dinner with me?”
Michaela shook her head. “I can’t. I have the night shift at the hospital tonight.”
Damn it all. She seemed genuinely regretful. Now he’d have to kill MacSweeney just on principle.
“Which hospital do you work at?”
NO. She couldn’t. Robin moved forward, ready to step in.
“Philadelphia Gen—”
“Michaela!” Robin sagged in relief as Moira Blackthorn practically jumped Michaela from behind. “The lecture’s about to start.”
“Sorry, I’ll be right there.” She turned back to MacSweeney with a grimace. “I have to run. It was nice talking to you again.”
“You too.” MacSweeney dared to put his hands on Robin’s woman, bringing her hand to his lips for a soft, sweet kiss. “I’ll see you around.”
Robin wondered if Michaela heard the threat or not. From her relaxed posture, he was guessing not.
“I look forward to it.”
Over his dead body.
Michaela allowed Moira to drag her off with a farewell wave to MacSweeney, sealing the dark fae’s fate. MacSweeney watched the women until they were safely behind the closed door of the conference room, a strange expression on his face. Robin couldn’t quite place it. Was it regret? Longing?
Loneliness?
Finally, the corridor was
He tried to convince himself that MacSweeney’s interest in Michaela had nothing to do with it, but Robin was not in the habit of lying to himself. If MacSweeney tried to take Robin’s woman, he’d discover just why Robin was Oberon’s personal Blade. There would be nothing left of the Raven Lord, not even smoke and ashes.
MacSweeney darted down a corridor and Robin followed. It was less populated here as convention goers darted into rooms and took seats. MacSweeney paused, watching one doorway in particular. Robin faded from sight and drifted forward, looking into the room that had Raven’s undivided attention.
Robin frowned. He recognized that pair of rotten pumpkin wings bouncing their way back out the door.
Damn. The Fear Dearc was rumored to have fearsome powers, and Robin did not wish to test them around so many humans. The ensuing fight could damage or destroy many lives, something Oberon would wish Robin to avoid if at all possible.
“Michaela.”
Then again, there was always a first time for everything.
Michaela paused, smiling at MacSweeney like he was her long-lost brother. The only thing that kept Robin sane was the fact that the heat, so prevalent in her gaze when she looked at Ringo, was absent. “Raven! How’s the art thing going?”
Art? What in blue blazes was she talking about? And since when was she on a first-name basis with the bastard?
“I’m not really an artist. Not professionally, anyway.” MacSweeney leaned against the wall, effectively cutting Michaela from the herd.
“What do you do, then? Because I have to say, I think you could make a living off your art.”
MacSweeney’s shoulders moved in an almost-shrug. “I’m in security.”
Michaela laughed. Robin moved so that his view wasn’t blocked by MacSweeney’s broad, soon-to-be-decomposing back. “I have a friend who told me earlier he’s in the same business.”
Shit. Well, Robin had already effectively broken his cover, but if MacSweeney confirmed Robin’s interest in Michaela…
“Oh? Who?”
“Ringo.” Her cheeks flushed.
MacSweeney’s head tilted. “Ringo? Like the Beatle?”
Michaela wrinkled her nose and grinned. “Like the Japanese word for apple.”
“You’ll have to introduce me sometime.”
When hell freezes over. Out of the corner of his eye, Robin noted Jaden’s presence. So the vampire hadn’t lost sight of his charge after all. To all but the most discerning eye, the vampire was invisible.
“I think you’d get along. Unless you’re business rivals.” She smiled sweetly. “Then, maybe not so much.”
MacSweeney chuckled and reached out. He brushed his fingertips along Michaela’s arm. “Have dinner with me?”
Michaela shook her head. “I can’t. I have the night shift at the hospital tonight.”
Damn it all. She seemed genuinely regretful. Now he’d have to kill MacSweeney just on principle.
“Which hospital do you work at?”
NO. She couldn’t. Robin moved forward, ready to step in.
“Philadelphia Gen—”
“Michaela!” Robin sagged in relief as Moira Blackthorn practically jumped Michaela from behind. “The lecture’s about to start.”
“Sorry, I’ll be right there.” She turned back to MacSweeney with a grimace. “I have to run. It was nice talking to you again.”
“You too.” MacSweeney dared to put his hands on Robin’s woman, bringing her hand to his lips for a soft, sweet kiss. “I’ll see you around.”
Robin wondered if Michaela heard the threat or not. From her relaxed posture, he was guessing not.
“I look forward to it.”
Over his dead body.
Michaela allowed Moira to drag her off with a farewell wave to MacSweeney, sealing the dark fae’s fate. MacSweeney watched the women until they were safely behind the closed door of the conference room, a strange expression on his face. Robin couldn’t quite place it. Was it regret? Longing?
Loneliness?
Finally, the corridor was
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