Furious Fire: Grimm's Circle, Book 8 (10 page)

It had been Tommy. And the other one—graying, grizzled, and angry, full of such hate, it had hurt to look at him.

“Go on then, Ira,”
had been Finn’s snarled reply.
“I’m not leaving a girl to die alone in the middle of all of this.”

“You’re not here to hold a mortal’s hand, you stupid fool! You’re not a nursemaid.”

A hand brushing my brow…I stared into warm, golden eyes. I knew them. I fought to breathe around the massive, awful pain. Those eyes. I knew them. When I closed my own and let myself forget about the pain and where I was, who I was, I almost even knew why I knew him… Lifting a hand, I looked up just in time to touch his cheek. But then he was gone, jerked away and pain shattered me.

“It’s time to go,” a voice snarled.

I heard it, over the pain, even as darkness spin in on me.

“Touch me again, and you’ll suffer for it.”

I shivered, chilled.

I felt heat now. Heat that couldn’t penetrate the cold and arms that came around me. “Come, darling girl. You can rest now. It won’t be long. Just listen to my voice, sweetheart…”

Sweetheart…

“Don’t…” I tried to lick my lips. My mouth was so dry. Forcing my eyes open, I stared at him. Then I sighed, forgetting what I’d been about to say. He was here. He’d found me. Nothing else mattered. He brushed at my cheek.

That was nice.

That was…

I tore myself out of the memory with a ragged gasp.

Too much.

The pain of it was too much and I reached up, swiping at the tears with hands that shook.

Don’t call me sweetheart
. That was what I’d been about to tell him.

Even the thought of it was enough to make me shudder. I don’t know why. The cutesy name might cause a kneejerk reaction in me, but it was typically just one of minor irritation.

But from him—

A ripple of energy cut through my thoughts and I jerked my head, found myself eyeing the man in front of me. Swallowing, I clambered to my feet and meet his gaze.

Angling my chin up, I met his silver eyes. “You never gave me your name. You barge into my mind, you kidnap me, you’re standing there debating on killing me. The least you can do is give me your name.”

He cocked his head, the pale, silvery cloak of his hair falling over one shoulder. He eyed me in a way that made me want to squirm. Like he was still trying to puzzle me out. I didn’t
want
him puzzling me out. I felt insignificant next to him, a bug he could squash in a heartbeat. I wish I hadn’t even come to his attention.

“You’re only partially right,” he said after a few heartbeats. “I’m no longer debating on killing you.”

I tensed. Did that mean—?

“I decided it’s not in my best interest.” He inclined his head. “I hope you realize that it’s not in yours to share anything that has happened since I found you in that alley—nor to speak anything of what you know of demons and the like.”

“Gee.” I couldn’t resist. Curling my lip in a sneer, I planted my hands on my hips. “There goes
my
evening plans…I was going to call the first reporter I could find and see if they wanted an inside exclusive on life with a demon hunter.”

He just lifted a brow and then gestured to the door. “You may go.”

Go
?

Narrowing my eyes, I started for that door, half waiting for the trick.

Once there, I stopped, hand on the doorknob. “You never did give me your name.”

He stood in the middle of the floor, a hand lifted, palm outstretched. His expression was bored. “It’s Will.”

“Am I going to see you again? I’d like to know so I can stock up on rocket launchers and the like.”

A grim smile settled on his face. “Trust me. They won’t do you any good.”

A brilliant white light flared.

Will…

Instinct drove me.

I flung myself at his back the second he turned away. He spun toward me but maybe it was the sheer suddenness of the movement. I don’t know. I caught him off guard, though. And we started to fall. Falling…

Only we never hit the ground.

Chapter Eight

Will cursed soundly as she caught him rough and hard.

Kalpyso landed on top of him and he barely managed to wrap his power around her to cushion the blow. Every inch of him ached—
note to self…uncontrolled gate travel just might do you a lot of damage
. His innards felt as though they’d been smashed. The journey through the gate had been turbulent and though he could have smoothed it out, he’d focused his attention on protecting the mortal—the fragile one, the one who just might
die
for that foolish, mystifying act.

Her heart beat steadily and her breaths were regular. Her nerves were screaming, though and pain twisted through her.

“Stupid mortal,” he muttered, wincing as he rolled to his feet, easing her limp body to the side.

Blood dripped from him and he reached up, touched the back of his hand to his nose.

“I’m bleeding,” he murmured, bemused.

“Has it been so long since you’ve done that you forgot what it was like?”

At the sound of Finn’s voice, he forced himself to think. Eyeing Kalypso, he saw that under the smooth, tawny gold of her skin, she’d lost color. The thick coil of her hair half-obscured her face and he did nothing to brush it aside. If she didn’t move, if she stayed unconscious—

Bollocks.

Keeping the two of them apart until the bitter end hadn’t solved anything. He laid a hand on her arm, focused.

The last time he’d tried to pierce the veil that surrounded her future, he’d only seen the darkness of death. Anything that lay beyond that was lost to him.

Now, though, it was a shiftless, formless mass, an inscrutable gray and he’d have to accept that as answer enough.

Rising, he met Finn’s eyes. Pain splintered through him and he made his way over to the short, squat chimney, using it to brace himself against while his limbs protested the very idea of moving.

He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d felt…weak. Wounded.

A long time.

A very long time.

Finn was still watching him, puzzled.

“I gotta tell you, man,” Finn finally said. “That wasn’t quite the entry I’ve come to expect from you. You’re also early. Whatever happened to the business you had to settle?”

“It rather tackled me on my way out.” Will gave Kalypso a grim look. “Or perhaps, to be more accurate, I should say
she
rather tackled me on my way out.”

“Aw, sweetheart…don’t be mad…”

She was mad at him.

Thom’s breath was a warm puff on her neck and he smelled of whiskey and she could also catch reek of another woman’s perfume on him. He’d been down the river, at that so-called “establishment” Becky wasn’t supposed to know about. There so long, he’d forgotten they were supposed to meet and she’d given up waiting on him and come home.

But then he’d shown up outside her window,
after
she’d gone to bed.

She didn’t know who was more foolish—her for coming to the window, or him for sneaking inside.

If her father caught him, Thom might be lucky to escape with his hide intact.

Of course, just then, as she smelled another woman on him, Becky was feeling rather violent herself.

Shoving against his chest, she said in a low voice, “Don’t call me sweetheart, Thom. I imagine you called quite a lot of women sweetheart tonight. I won’t be one of them. Go home. You’re drunk.”

“Drunk…?” He snickered a little and leaned back against the windowsill, long legs splayed out in front of him.

Silvery moonlight shone in around him, framing him there. The light picked up the red in his hair, played with the shadows and hollows of his face—such a pretty man, but in a wholly masculine way—and it was likely shameful that she even noticed. Heat swam through her, making her heart race, the way it always did around him these days. A leather belt rode low on his hips and in her mind’s eye, she could see the way he walked, the slow, lazy motion of his body—almost dance-like in its elegance. His beauty was a deadly one. That leather belt carried the weight of pistols he never went without and she could recall, with crystalline clarity, how they’d stood in a field miles from here several months ago the day he’d taught her how to use the pistols he carried.

That was when it had started to change.

She could still feel the warmth of his breath on her neck as he helped her position her body, the weapon. The heat of his chest against her back. Then that slow curl of his lips near the end of the afternoon when she’d hit the target not once, but three times.

“That’s my girl,” he’d said.

Yes, she was. But she didn’t tell him. Not then, and she could hardly tell him now, either. Even if she had considered telling him earlier.

A whorehouse. Mama and Father would be appalled if they realized she knew what such a place was, but she knew where he’d been. He’d gone to a whorehouse, forgetting he’d agreed to meet her for a walk along the river.

Perhaps she should stop hoping he’d notice and just accept Sawyer’s attentions.
He
clearly had noticed she wasn’t still in the schoolroom.

Thom gave her a boyish smile. “I’m might have had a little too much to drink.” He pushed up off the window, came toward her. “I only did it so I could sleep.”

She sniffed and turned away. “I’m sorry to hear you have trouble resting these days. Next time we make plans to go riding, we shall have to do it earlier in the day so it doesn’t interfere with your nightly indulgences.”

“You’re mad.”

The soft, sad sound of his voice left her with an ache in her heart. She cast a look at the door.

If she were wise, she’d go to that door, leave him alone in here until he came to his senses.

It wasn’t likely he’d be discovered in her room and if he was…

Her heart skipped at the thought.

If he was, her father would drag him down the aisle.

She licked her lips but before she let the thought complete itself, she shook her head.

No. She wanted him to want her too.

A hand touched her shoulder. She went to brush it aside but he turned her to face him before she could and his smoldering gaze caught hers. “Becky…” he muttered. His eyes dipped to her mouth for the briefest second, then rose.

A gasp caught in her chest, hitched there, and held.

A groan rumbled out of him. “I can’t sleep because of you.”

She jerked back, but his hands caught her hips, hard and strong through the thin material of her nightdress. It was hardly a barrier at all and she could feel those long-fingered, elegant hands like brands on her hips as he tugged her closer.

“I can’t sleep,” he murmured again. “Just needed one night of sleep…”

He pressed his mouth to her neck and she gasped, instinctively reaching up and curling her hands into his shirt. She turned her face toward him, nerves singing a wicked tune inside her. He opened his mouth and she sucked in a breath—

Becky tore away from him, shaking and ready to kick herself.

“You smell of whiskey and women. You took yourself off to a whorehouse and now you decide to kiss me,” she said, her voice shaking in fury, in hurt. “Is that what you think of me?”

She pointed her finger toward the window. “Get out of here, Thomas Finn. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“Becky…”

“Out!”

He caught her wrist. She lifted her other hand and slapped him. His head whipped around at the force of the blow. When he looked back at her, his eyes glittering, he gave a short nod. “I deserved that. I had no right kissing you. I’m sorry. I…” He swallowed and looked around. “Becky, I’m sorry for that. It won’t happen…”

She jerked back, ready to strike him again.

“You stupid,
stupid
man.” Unable to stand there and look at him and listen to this, she grabbed a wrap from the foot of the bed and clambered through the still open window. How often had she done this as a child? She couldn’t recall. More than once. More than a dozen times. And always, to meet the man who even now was rushing to catch up with her along the trail.

“Becky, you need to get inside. You can’t be out here alone at night.”

She whirled and glared at him. “I shouldn’t be alone in my room with a man in there, either, but you wouldn’t leave. So I did.”

She was going to cry. She sniffed in horror. She was going to cry over him. Tears blurred her eyes, then spilled over. Spinning away from him, she dashed them away.

“Sweetheart…”

“Don’t call—” The rest of her shout was muffled against his palm and he swore as he dragged her off the trail and into the shelter of the trees.

“Are you trying to wake your father?” he demanded, putting his mouth on level with her ear. “You know what he would do if he found you talking with me at this hour, Becky-girl. Is that what you want?”

She twisted away from him and glared at him in the shadow of the trees. “I’m so sorry, Finn. You’re right…that’s selfish of me. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your
whoring
,” she said, curling her lip at him. She went to brush past him and then stopped, raking him with a look. “And don’t call me sweetheart. I’m sure you use that endearment on a number of other women. I won’t have you use it on me.”

He caught her arm, his eyes bewildered. “Becky, what is wrong? I’m sorry I forgot about meeting you. I made you angry and I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. We can…”

“No.” Gently, she tugged away from him and shook her head. “We won’t do anything. If you rather spend your evenings with those…other women, then do it.”

“I don’t!” He advanced on her. “Tonight. I’ll call on you tonight. Perhaps your father would let me take you riding.”

“I have plans.” She smoothed her tangled hair back. She hadn’t, not really. But Sawyer has asked her if she’d care to have him call on her and she thought perhaps it was time she do that. “Sawyer is calling on me.”

“Sawyer—” He opened his mouth, closed it.

“Yes. Now, I’m tired. If you still wish for company, perhaps you could return to your…lady friend.” She wrinkled her nose.

“It’s
your
company I want.” The words were a low growl.

“Hardly.” She tugged away from him, but he spun her around and she found herself trapped between him and a tree. Trapped between the long, beautiful body that had begun to fascinate her more and more. “I just figured something out, Becky-girl.”

She went to duck around him, but one arm came up. “Do get out of my way,” she said softly. He stood too close. “This is hardly appropriate.”

“You’re jealous,” he whispered, dipping his head and murmuring those words against her ear.

Stiffening, she shoved her hands against his chest. “You insolent, arrogant—”

“I went there because I thought if I spent myself with another woman, I could get through one night not thinking about you.” His lips skimmed up her neck. “But it didn’t work. She kissed me and all I could think about was how you might taste. I tried to pretend she was you and I couldn’t. Her skin isn’t yours. The scent of her is nothing like you. She smells fake—too much perfume and other men and tobacco smoke. I kept thinking of how you smell…violets and summer sunshine.”

He lifted his head and met her eyes. “Yes, I’m an insolent, arrogant bastard and I never meant to hurt you. Every time I go there, I go because I lie awake at night, thinking of you…and it’s driving me mad.”

Her mouth fell open on a gasp as he bent back over her and pressed a kiss to the hollow of her throat. She shivered. Flattening his hand against her spine, he trailed it up and whispered, “But I didn’t lie with anybody tonight. I left because I couldn’t pretend she was you, even as drunk as I was. I left, because I needed to see you. Even knowing that’s all I can ever do.”

Pressing a line of kisses up her neck, he sought out her mouth, but didn’t kiss her there. Instead, he pressed a soft kiss just to the right as he whispered, “What do I find…but you, awake, angry…and jealous. And I know you’re jealous, because the look on your face is the exact way I feel when you talk about Sawyer calling on you.”

She groaned, then gasped in shock as he shifted his mouth over, and covered hers, his tongue flicking out to tease her lips. “He’s my best friend. But the thought of him touching you makes me want to hurt him. Don’t make me hurt him, Becky…”

She sighed, sinking against the oak at her back as he sank against her. “Open your mouth now,” he whispered, slanting his lips over hers. “Open your mouth, let me taste you.”

Becky opened her eyes, staring up at him in the silvered moonlight.

It washed the color from his eyes, from that red-streaked hair, leaving him cut with swathes of pale light and deep shadows.

So beautiful, she thought, just his mouth came down on hers, her lips slightly parted.

In that moment, thought
ceased
.

In that moment, I came awake, my body shuddering as pain gripped me.

I gasped and in a blink, two men stood over me.

One was Will and I glared at him balefully.

Okay, yeah, I’d been the one to pounce on his back and send the two of us tumbling to the ground—or…
through
it?

I still didn’t know.

But whatever had happened, it resulted in me hurting more than I could remember hurting, short of dying.

I didn’t think that was happening. Not yet, at least.