He chuckled, put a hand on the smal of her back to steer her toward the parking garage and his car.
“There’s a nice visual.”
“Family gatherings are entertaining.” She gave a delicate shrug, lowering her voice as they left the Magickal ward of the hospital. “Mostly there’s just Mil ie and me, but when the extended Standish clan descends, it’s an Event. Capital E, Event. Especial y if Aunt Mil ie and her sister Amaranth dig out their stash of genuine Prohibition bootleg whiskey and start tel ing war stories.” She shot a glance over her shoulder at him, her eyes sparkling. “Then they have to prove who can cast the best spel s, and it turns into a proper witches’ duel, because we do it right in our family, but a witches’ duel when you’re soused ends up with . . . um . . . special results. Funny, but special.”
He snorted, but enjoyed the feel of her skin under his fingertips as he held her arm to help her into his car.
The passenger side this time. “Cops get cal ed in for special things like that going wrong.”
Fastening her seatbelt as he slid behind the wheel, she gave another shrug. “It’s on private property—a lot of it—and they do have seconds in their duels, so we can keep things from getting out of hand.”
“You’ve been a second?” He couldn’t help a grin. The dynamic duo facing down a happy, drunken pair of witches had to be a sight to see. It was stupid, irresponsible, and foolish to engage in that kind of reckless use of magic, but he could picture the hilarity of the situation too clearly not to have to fight back a chuckle.
“For Mil ie, of course.” Chloe waved a dismissive hand through the air, the gesture reminiscent of her aunt. “Amaranth would never lower herself to asking the halfling, even though I’m more powerful than a lot of other witches and warlocks in the family. Luckily, being a second just means we know how to douse flames and reverse transformation spel s that make old women grow chin hairs and nose warts.”
Something in her voice made him cast a sharp glance at her face. “You’re a halfling?”
“Mom was a Normal. Grandfather Standish disowned my dad for marrying her.” She turned her head away from him to stare out the window as if she’d never before seen the streets that led to her house. “Of course, by the time my parents passed away, the old bastard was long dead, so no one could protest when Mil ie took me in and reinstated my father’s—and, therefore, my—inheritance.”
There was more to the story than that, he was sure, but he was also sure she wasn’t going to say more about it. He didn’t like her keeping things from him. He didn’t like that she tried to hold herself apart, stand alone, even though his brain said it was probably the best thing for al concerned. They didn’t have to get too deep with each other, even if they were sharing space for the next while. His instincts told his brain that this woman was his, and any distance between them was intolerable.
Temporarily. She was a case, a job, and anything more than that was temporary. She was important to him, because she created a void in his visions, because she was just her, but that didn’t mean she’d always be important. Just long enough for him to know she wasn’t in danger anymore. He hated that he had to keep reminding himself of the simple truth with this assignment.
How the hel had he gotten into this situation?
A pensive frown creased Merek’s forehead as he sat on her bed and watched her pack for their little trip.
AKA the relocation of her entire life. Better than being dead or tortured some more, so Chloe didn’t complain. She just stuffed her life into the two suitcases Merek said she was al owed to take. If she used enlarging spel s to fit a few extras in, that was her business. As he’d dictated, she left anything but sensible clothes behind. She put her foot down at no makeup, though.
He leaned back on his hands and crossed his ankles. “Why do you do what you do? You’re drugging yourself for your job, so you have to know how dangerous this werewolf project is. It’s controversial, at best.”
“Yeah, that is the best I’ve heard it cal ed. I don’t care much about how controversial it is. Magickal politics are Mil ie’s specialty, not mine.” She shrugged and looked away, trying not to notice how delicious his muscular form looked sprawled across her mattress. She cleared her throat and focused on his question, not his lickable body. “I’m doing it for a friend who passed away.”
“Alex’s mother, you said. A werewolf.”
“Yeah.” She swal owed past the lump that stil formed in her throat al these years later. Losing a loved one never real y stopped hurting. “Jaya Nemov. She was best friends with Tess and me in med school. Tess never knew about her or how she real y died, of course.”
“The ful moon Change.” Merek sat up, and the bedsprings squeaked under his weight. His gray eyes were serious and sympathetic al at once, making the lump in her throat expand. “I’m sorry you lost her.”
“Me, too. She was one of the best people I’ve ever met.” A sad smile curved her lips. “I guess that old Normal saying is right—the good die young.”
“Huh.” His eyebrow arched, and he pinched the crease in his slacks. “I’m going to live forever.”
“Me, too. Cantankerous witch that I am.”
He chuckled, and the rich, sensual sound made her want to jump him. She already liked him too much. He was strong and brave and sexy and protective, and he’d volunteered to put his life on hold just to help her and Alex. What kind of man did something like that? A good one. She liked him. She wanted him. And she wasn’t sure acting on that attraction again was good for either of them in the long run.
So, she jerked around and sorted through her shoes to col ect the most comfortable ones she owned.
Tossing them at her suitcase, she looked everywhere except at Merek as she searched her room for more things she couldn’t live without.
The mattress creaked again as Merek rose to his feet. Having him in her space was unnerving. As many times as she’d relived her night with him in her dreams, she’d never pictured him here. She’d just remembered how it was in his room, in his bed; she hadn’t added on to the fantasy. Now she didn’t have to fantasize. He was here, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. She had no idea if he’d decide she was stil too injured, or if that would just be an excuse to say he thought their doing anything again was a colossal mistake. She wasn’t even sure she disagreed with that logic. He was her bodyguard now, which changed their relationship, such as it was.
The mere thought of a relationship sent a chil down her spine. It was so much easier when it was just sex.
A one-night stand. She refused to let herself think about the fact that none of her other handful of lovers had ever stuck in her head the way he had. Her sex clenched and dampened at the memories parading in erotic detail through her mind, that first night and then the sheer excitement of his taking her against his desk.
Awareness rippled over her skin as he prowled around her room, big and armed and sexy and dangerous on every possible level. His intent gaze sliced into her, and she tried to stomp down on her reaction to him.
“Tel me about her.”
“Who, Jaya?” She swayed a bit on her feet, but forced herself to stuff her toiletries into a travel case.
“Yes, Jaya.” His eyebrows drew together as if in confusion. Then again, he had no idea where her thoughts had wandered. She rol ed her eyes at herself.
“She was . . . awesome.” She dropped onto her bed and organized everything into her two suitcases. It might al fit. With some magical help. If she kept talking, maybe Merek wouldn’t notice a few spel s buzzing through the air. “Jaya was one of those people who grabs onto life and lives every single second of it like it’s her last. She pul ed everyone else into this whirlwind of fun and energy. She was intense. You couldn’t help but have a good time when she was around.” Those bittersweet memories crashed into her al at once.