“You all right back there?” Rune asked.
His deep voice was a clarion bell that thrummed between her legs. “I’m perfect,” said Carling. “I was just getting into a more secure position.”
“Don’t worry, darling Carling,” he said. “I won’t let you fall.”
Darling Carling. She found herself grinning. What a truly awful endearment. Only he could pull off something so ridiculous, with that gentle, caressing, teasing note in his deep voice that invited her to laugh along with him at the silliness of it. With his voice alone he made extravagant, intimate promises. Promises that said he spoke only to her this way, her and no other. She didn’t believe it for a moment, although she confessed to herself, in her secret heart of hearts, it was rather nice to pretend.
When would he come after her again? When would she turn around and see that look of intent in his eyes that he masked so cleverly behind a sleepy expression? Her smile disappeared as arousal flared all over again, and her own predatory impulses stirred, like the lazy stretch of an animal that had long been asleep.
What would he do if she came after him? She liked that thought, them stalking each other, one moving forward, the other pulling back until that last pounce. One way or another they would become lovers. It was another promise from him, of a pleasure that already was so surprising it caught at her soul. She had thought that the days of her taking a lover were long over. How gorgeous, that she could be surprised.
They were soaking wet, and the chill wind was slicing. Although she craved warmth, the bitter cold did not hurt her. Even though Rune’s body roared with heat and effort, the cold might be uncomfortable for him.
She stroked the back of his sleek powerful neck and whispered a spell. A ripple of Power washed over them both, and then suddenly they were both dry.
“Mmm.” Rune started to purr. “That felt good.”
“I thought you might be getting cold,” she told him.
“I wasn’t, but I like it when you practice magic on me,” he said throatily.
She snorted. He was clearly in a playful mood. Her amusement died as she remembered the dark, calculating way she had planned to research ways to attack him. It seemed to make sense at the time, but now the thought of throwing an offensive spell to hurt him made her feel queasy. Even if, for some reason, Rune became her enemy, she didn’t think she could do that to him, not anymore.
Once she would have done anything to survive. Whatever it took. Living was the supreme priority. Now even though time had become more precious than ever before as it ran out, she finally discovered there were other things that were more important than survival.
They were damp again quickly from flying through the thick fog. The city was shrouded and indistinct, until suddenly they were upon it.
Then Carling felt something shimmer into place around them. She stiffened but almost immediately realized that the sensation, whatever it was, came from Rune. It felt strange, warm and intimate, as if he had somehow expanded his aura to wrap it around her.
“What is that?” she asked. “What are you doing?”
“I’m cloaking us,” Rune replied. “I should have done it as soon as I took to the air, but I was distracted. SFO’s air traffic control is probably having a conniption right now.”
She raised a hand and looked at it. She could still see herself but she was blurred as if she were looking through an antique window. She studied Rune. He was blurred as well, but perfectly visible. “Are you sure it’s working properly?”
He chuckled. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“I can still see us,” she said. “That’s because we’re both inside the cloak. Other people can’t see us, which is the main point.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, squinting skeptically at her hand again. “It’s a nifty trick, if you’re not pulling my leg.”
“Oh ye of little faith,” murmured the gryphon. “Where is your town house?”
Carling looked down at the ground as she gave him directions. They were just flying over the Presidio at the northern tip of San Francisco. Originally a Spanish fort, it had been a military installation for almost two hundred years. Now it was a public park. Wreathed in the mist that had rolled off the ocean, the aged, well-tended trees looked vaporous, the ground indistinct underneath.
She sighed. “I would say we should just stay at my town house, except I’m almost certain someone on the staff is a spy and I would rather Julian not be apprised of our every move. He’s not going to be happy as it is when I call to tell him I’ve come back to the city. We had decided my condition was too dangerous for me to be around very many people right now.”
“Fuck Julian,” said Rune. “I don’t care if he’s happy or not.”
Carling sighed heavily again. “I’ve handled him many times before when he’s chosen to be unpleasant, and I will handle him again if I have to, but we have more important things to focus on than clashing with Julian right now.”
Rune paused for a moment. He continued in a softer, more serious voice. “You’re right, of course. We don’t have to rub your presence in Julian’s face. Since I didn’t know what to expect when I got here, I arranged to have a suite available at the Fairmont Hotel for whenever I might need it. After we drop Rasputin off, we can go there. No doubt there’ll be spies there too but it won’t be the same as it happening in the intimacy of your own home.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” she muttered. “I don’t care where we go.”
“Then the hotel it is,” said Rune. He climbed steeply in the air, soaring over the tops of buildings, and plummeted to the street corner near her house. The town houses were luxurious, and Carling’s home was mere blocks from Market Street. He realized her house would be an easy walk to the Turner and Braeburn offices, and the Bureau of Nightkind Immigration. That seemed too convenient to be a coincidence.
He landed lightly on his feet and after Carling had slid to the pavement, he shimmered into a shapeshift. Only then did he relax the cloaking around them. “See?” he said. “No one saw us.”
She looked around and laughed. Traffic was all around but by some trick of chance, there weren’t any vehicles passing by them at the moment, and the nearest pedestrians were a half a block away and walking in the other direction from them. The fog was not terribly heavy, but it did give everything a sense of space and privacy that might not otherwise have been present in the full light of sunshine. “No one saw us, my dear genius gryphon, because there’s no one around to pay attention.”
He looked around, his eyes narrowed. “All right, I can see that you’ll take some convincing. Here, give me that.” He took the container from her.
She strode down the street with Rasputin in her arms, and Rune fell back a few steps so he could watch her. She moved with her characteristic imperiousness. She was barefoot and bedraggled, her hair a tangled mess down her back, her awful caftan a ragtag, crumpled mess. And there was no doubt in his mind—there could be no doubt in the mind of anyone who saw her—that she was royalty. Goddamn, that was smoking hot.
She led him up the steps of an elegant four-story Mediterranean Revival home. Loosely based on Italian palazzo architecture, the facade was simple, an elegant pale ochre, with arched black wrought-iron windows. She took hold of the doorknob, spoke a Power-filled word, and Rune heard the small click as the lock turned. Hell of a handy trick, that. She never had to worry about losing a key and locking herself out.
Rune followed her into a spacious front hall, with gleaming oak floors and a simple antique hall table that was so beautifully constructed, Sotheby’s would have drooled over it. A vase filled with fresh lilies provided the only adornment. Carling gestured to a doorway on the right. “Make yourself at home,” she told Rune as she strode down the hall. “I’ll be right back.”