Declan turned very slightly. It was a tiny movement, but she caught it—he’d checked that he could be seen from the window. Ha! He was showing off for her benefit. Rose smiled into her cup. Blueblood or not, he was still a man.
Declan flexed a little, displaying a perfect chest to the grass, and stretched. Rose leaned her head to the side, following his movement as he turned, letting her stare trail the sharp line of his biceps to his muscled back, and over his chest to his flat, ridged stomach. They really did know how to make them in the Weird.
No hair on his chest or stomach. All of that muscle clothed in golden skin, slicked with sweat from running. Against the cold fog of the morning, he radiated heat as if lit from within by his own warm glow. He was beautiful. Even his iceberg eyes were captivating despite the menace.
She drank her coffee. He must’ve done something truly awful to have to look for a bride in the Edge. Maybe he was a rapist . . . No, she decided. She just didn’t feel that creepy vibe from him. A killer maybe? Murdered the son of somebody important in a duel? That she could see.
He picked up his sword. Now what?
Declan held the blade above his head, pointing parallel to the grass. For a long moment he stood still, utterly focused, and then erupted into sharp strikes. He slashed and thrust, fluid muscles rolling under his skin, faster and faster, cutting down invisible opponents in a lethal dance born of melding the sword fight and art.
That was entirely more than a woman could take. Rose lowered her cup to the table, leaned her head on her elbow, and simply watched.
She harbored no illusions. The only value she had to him was in her ability to flash and bear children. If she agreed to become his bride or his mistress, she would live in the house of a cold frigid man who would probably despise her, among people who would be so busy looking down on her because of what she was, they would have no chance to find out who she was. Her brothers would be servants at best. It would be a terrible life. True, Declan was heartbreakingly beautiful and hypnotic to watch. But she would have even more fun when she watched that muscled back and that perfect ass recede as he walked down the path away from her house, never to return.
ELSIE sat in her room on the rocker, holding Mr. Clooney. Through the doorway she saw her granddaughter and her best friend, Leanne, talking in hushed voices. On the porch, Amy’s daughter Mindy was trying to do the same with Kenny Jo, Leanne’s oldest boy, but he wasn’t answering.
The four-eyed creature sat in the doorway blocking Elsie’s exit. She had spent the whole night drawing the ward glyphs on the floor with a Magic Marker. She would’ve drawn more, but the marker had run dry.
The creature leaned and nudged at the invisible wall of magic streaming from the glyphs. A spark shot from the twisted swirls and nipped the creature’s chin. It sat back on its haunches and showed her its teeth: bloodred and nasty. It wanted to get her. She shook the teddy bear at it. It was the same one who killed Mr. Bana, she was sure.
“Thanks for coming,” Amy said. “I don’t know what got into her. She sat like that since yesterday noon. She won’t come out, and I can’t drag her out by myself.”
“Older folks get like this sometimes.” Leanne nodded in understanding.
Amy was tall and soft, with a round face and a round belly and round hair of little brownish curls. Leanne was about the same height, but skinny and wiry, with a sharp face. Like a blond ferret with boobs. All of the Meddlers’ women bred that way. Elsie pursed her lips. Together they would drag her out. She’d tied herself to the rocker with her scarves, but she knew the restraints wouldn’t stand up to them for long.
Two more creatures padded from the kitchen. One slunk by Amy, almost brushing her big butt. She shivered and glanced over her shoulder. The creature looked right at her. She shrugged and turned back to Leanne. Elsie sneered. Stupid girl.
The creature by the door smiled at her. Soon, its gray eyes promised. Soon.
“It’s not that I want to manhandle her, but . . .” Amy leaned forward and said confidentially, “She’s wet herself. I just don’t want it to get around that I abuse my grandma and all that. You know how people are.”
“You don’t have to worry on my account,” Leanne assured her.
The two creatures hooked their claws into the wall and began crawling up the side like two huge ugly lizards. Tiny flecks of plaster broke off and fell on the floor.
“No, I know. You don’t gossip. I just . . . I sure do appreciate this. With Bob away hunting, I’m by myself here. I’d like to get it done before the younger kids are up. That’s not something they need to see.”
Leanne nodded. “Let’s get it over with.”
They headed to the door. The creature slunk out of the way, behind the couch. Leanne stopped in the doorway and stared at the floor covered with black lines. “Oh my.”
“She’s done it overnight. I don’t even know what this is.” Amy shook her head. “Last thing I need is some foulness to pop out of these glyphs. You know? I have kids in the house.”
Leanne shook her head. “Sometimes the mind just gives out.”
Amy crossed the room and stopped before Elsie. “Grandma. You’ve got to come out.”
Elsie let go of Mr. Clooney and clutched the armrests of her rocker. They wouldn’t be getting her out, not where the beasts could get her.
“If you’re refusing to listen to reason, Leanne and I’ll have to take you out by force.”
Elsie dug her nails into the wood.
“Suit yourself.” Amy sighed, leaned over, and tried to pull her free. “Oh, my Lord in Heaven, she tied herself to the chair. With her good scarves, too.”
She went into a crouch to pull loose the knot by the chair legs, and Elsie raked her face. Blood swelled. Amy stared stunned, tears swelling in her eyes. “Grandma!”
Elsie raised her hands, her bony fingers curled like claws. “You leave me alone!”
Leanne struck at her left hand, pinning it down with both of hers. Elsie scratched at her, but Amy clamped her right wrist to the armrest. Elsie snapped, trying to bite, and Amy pressed her left hand onto her chest, pinning her to the chair. Elsie growled and gnashed her teeth, but couldn’t reach Amy’s arm.
They looked at each other.
“Now what?” Amy breathed. “I can’t reach the knot, and if I let go, she’ll claw us bloody.”
“Kenny Jo!” Leanne called. “I’ll get him to untie the knot, and then we move her just like this right into the shower. Kenny Jo!”
The screen door banged, and Kenny Jo crossed the living room and stepped into the bedroom. The glyphs shivered a little. Elsie buckled against Amy’s hand. Kenny Jo wasn’t a dud like Amy. “Run!” she yelled at him. “Run!”
“Ma?”
“I need you . . .”
The first creature padded from behind the couch and stared at Kenny’s back. He turned and went white as a sheet. The creature stepped forward, rocking on its haunches. Kenny stumbled back. His mouth gaped open. He choked, struggling, gulped, and screamed, setting the glass on the windows ringing.
SEVEN
ROSE didn’t remember her coffee until Declan was done with his workout. Her drink had gone cold. She got up to get a fresh cup just as he strode through the door. He dwarfed the kitchen, big, golden, and intimidating. At least his shirt was back on, which was definitely a good thing. “Coffee?” she asked.
He nodded. “Thank you.”
She had hoped he’d take a shower, which would have gotten him out of the kitchen. She could’ve used a moment to cool off.
Up close, she caught his scent: a faint aroma of sandalwood and a very male musk emanating from his tawny, sweat-slicked skin. No, she told herself firmly and took a step out of his reach. He looked superb, he smelled like a drug, and if she went over and found out how he tasted, she would throw away her freedom, independence, and future with one kiss.
“I apologize for my attire,” Declan said.