Loose Changeling: A Changeling Wars Novel (30 page)

“I have to go,” I whispered. “I’ll do what I can.”

I hung up the phone and left.

At Frank Gibbons, Inc., everything was business as usual. My coworkers no longer discussed the murders—without new developments, they seemed bored with the subject. The brownies did not reappear. I spent my time preparing my sales pitch for the trip to Texas.

Tonight I’d meet with Kailen and do what little I could to help. I sighed and shifted in my chair, the squeaking prompting an answering sigh from Brent. Maybe Faolan was right—that I should trust Kailen and try to do more. But I just didn’t have it in me. Hadn’t I done enough? I’d risked my life to bring Tristan back from the Fae world safely, and now I was being asked to risk it again?

I grabbed for my mug of coffee. The liquid inside had turned cold. I frowned. I’d turned coffee into iced tea before. What if I tried to turn this cold coffee into hot tea? I closed my eyes and breathed in, preparing to mold the magic, to push it forth.

I got as far as picturing the hot tea. When it came to realizing it with some emotion, I couldn’t. There was nothing there to grasp, only wisps of feeling. I rubbed my forehead. Had Grian done something to me when she’d invaded my mind? I tried to concentrate on work. Before I knew it, it was time to go home.

There was a blue car parked on the curb in front of my house when I pulled into the driveway. I didn’t recognize it, though I could see the silhouette of someone sitting inside in my rearview mirror. I got out of the car and tried not to stare. Kailen?

The door opened and a woman stepped out.

Mousy Jane.

I froze. “Hi,” I said, in the most awkward tone imaginable. It sounded like I was choking on a frog.

“Hi,” Jane said, swiftly approaching. “We haven’t met formally.” She didn’t hold out her hand. Her mouth was pursed, pulling at those frown lines I’d noticed before I’d turned her into a mouse.

“I remember you. Jane.” I barely refrained from adding “mousy” in front of it. “So, what are you doing here?” I had sudden visions of Jane pulling out a gun and shooting me, or maybe just stabbing me a few times with a knife. I certainly deserved her ire.

But she looked more twitchy than angry. “The fact is, I’d rather see you than Owen. It’s over, and I don’t want to drag things out. I just wanted my things.”

Of course. Her purse and her cell phone. Her clothes. “Yeah, sure.” I backed into my doorway, still a little wary of turning my back on her. I fumbled my keys before getting the lock to turn. “Did you want to come in?”

“I’ll just wait in the entryway,” she said.

I went to my nook and grabbed the plastic bag of Jane’s belongings, certain my face was about to burn off. The anger I’d felt upon finding her with Owen had long since fled. Now I was just embarrassed. We’d both been in bed with the same guy, with not a lot of days in between. And then there was that whole mix-up where I’d turned her into a mouse.

When I went back to the entryway, Jane had her arms crossed and was eyeing the divorce papers on the butler table. I handed her the plastic bag. “Sorry about that,” she said, gesturing to the papers.

“Sorry about turning you into a mouse,” I said.

Her nose twitched. “Can you just not ever mention that again? I’m doing my best to forget about it. I’d rather pretend it never happened.”

I knew something about what she felt. “Sure. Never mention it again. Cross my heart.” I did the whole hand motion and everything. It felt like I was seven again.

“You gonna go through with that?” She nodded in the direction of the papers.

“Why does it matter to you?”

“I'm curious. Owen told me about you. I didn’t know if what he told me was the truth. I figured he’d paint you in the worst light he possibly could, because he didn’t want me to feel bad for being with a married man. But then, when I was…” She twitched again. “Well, when I wasn’t myself, I saw how you treated him.”

I thought it would make me angry, hearing her speak this way about me, but it didn’t. “What did he say?”

She met my eyes, evenly. “He said you were an amazing woman, incredibly driven, and he’d always admired you. But he also said you didn’t seem to realize that there were things bigger than yourself out there. That if he had to pick something you believed in, it was you, and that was it.”

“I—”

“Owen’s a good man,” Jane said, overriding me. “He’s not perfect, but he’s got good intentions. He’s not the one for me, but he deserves to be cherished.”

With that, she turned and walked out the door, head held high, plastic bag of her belongings clutched to her chest.

I stood on the threshold, baffled, and watched her drive away. Had Owen actually said that about me? That I believed in only myself? I closed the door and brushed my hand across the divorce papers, my fingers lingering on the “yes” and “no.” She was right—Owen was a good man. He bungled things and he’d cheated, but he tried to be there for me when I needed him, and he had a kind heart.

But was a “good man” enough for me? Surely this wasn’t the only requirement for a decent partner? Or maybe I was being selfish again, as Owen had said. He’d made his intentions clear, and here I was, letting him hang on, getting to be, once again, the one that made the decisions.

My mother had a rule—that if one person had a criticism of your behavior, don't adjust it. But if more than one person had the same criticism, it might be time to examine your actions. Much as I resented her airy wisdom and grounded boundaries as a child, I had to admit that my mother might have had a point.

What
did
I believe in? I believed in hard work (myself), I believed in the power of an individual to change their situation (myself), I believed in actions over words (myself). I'd always known that if I put my mind to something, if I worked hard enough, I could achieve it. All things related to me. My hard work, my power to change a situation, my actions over my words.

Everyone else? My mom believed in the Goddess and the Fae. Lainey believed in family and love. Even Faolan, my biological father, believed in Kailen and the intrinsic integrity of a man raised by someone rotten.

I muddled through these thoughts as I microwaved my dinner and ate it, alone, in the kitchen. Faolan, my mother, Kailen—all had urged me to accept both sides of my nature. Besides the neat powers, being a Changeling seemed like a bum deal. The only good I'd done with my power had been rescuing Tristan—and Grian wouldn't have kidnapped him in the first place if I hadn't been a Changeling.

But if I believed in something more? If I used that belief to stop a war?

Lightning flashed through my window, followed by the low rumble of thunder and the patter of rain. I chewed the macaroni and cheese, the undercooked noodles sticking in my teeth. If I got my shit together and focused, I could stop a war. I could stop people from dying, Fae from dying.

Maybe I could believe in this—saving lives.

A knock sounded at the door. I tossed my dishes in the sink and went to answer it.

Kailen stood outside. He wore a collared white shirt and slacks, all quickly getting soaked by the rain. The wet clothes clung to him, outlining his arms and chest. I'd forgotten I'd promised to meet him tonight. For a moment I just stared. It had only been a few days since I'd seen him, and yet I'd forgotten how overwhelmingly good-looking he was.

I finally got a hold of myself and stepped to the side. “Hurry up, you're getting soaked.”

He didn't bite back at me, or point out that I was the one who'd blocked his entrance. He waited just inside while I shut the door, so close I could smell the way the rain mingled with his cologne.

Once I let go of the doorknob, I couldn't decide where to put my hands. In my pockets? Too casual. Cross my arms? Too standoffish. I let them hang by my sides, my fingers pressed against the slick fabric of my work pants. I hadn't changed yet. I usually put on my flannels, and I was glad I hadn't gotten that far. At least I still looked presentable. But why should I care? He was here to talk about stopping the Fae from raiding the prison.

I lifted my gaze to meet his and immediately regretted it. It sent a shock through my body, my heart jumping like an Olympian at a hurdle race. His hazel eyes were soft, intense. Why wouldn't he just say something?

“I have your sword,” I said. My voice echoed off the walls, the tiled floor of the entryway. “It's in the kitchen.”

Before he could say anything, I turned and went back to the kitchen, hoping he'd follow, but not too closely. His footsteps padded behind me, swallowed by another rumble of thunder.

I'd left his sword on the island. I picked it up and held it out, unable this time to meet his gaze. His fingers touched the end of the tube, but didn't grip it. What was he waiting for? I cleared my throat. “Thank you,” I said. “You saved my life. I would have died if you hadn't lent me your sword.”

“I would have done more, if I could have,” Kailen said. His low voice seemed to fill the room, seeping into my bones. “I'm sorry I lied.”

“If that was your way of making it up to me,” I said lightly, “maybe I don't mind if you lie once in a while.” Except I did mind, and it really wasn't something to make light of.

Kailen's hand crept down the tube, his fingertips touching mine. “Truly, I am sorry.”

His fingers were cold and damp, but they sent a fire running through me. I wanted him to move closer, to press his hand over mine, to force a resolution to the tension that had been building between us since the day we'd met. But he only waited, and his meaning was clear.

This was my decision to make.

Owen still waited for my answer on the divorce papers. Kailen and I had a raid to stop and a mystery to solve. I didn't love Kailen. Yet there was something between us. Owen had slept with Jane. Didn't I deserve something too?

I let go of the sword. It clattered to the floor at the same time another crack of thunder sounded just outside the house. I took the last step forward and pressed my hands to Kailen's chest. His heart drummed beneath my fingertips, the cold of his wet shirt mingling with the warmth of his skin beneath.

“Nicole,” he breathed.

Before I could change my mind, decide this was actually a bad idea, I pressed my mouth to his. All the tension drained from him, his muscles becoming soft and pliant beneath my fingers. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer.

Age difference be damned.

His tongue flicked at my lips, slipped inside my mouth. I moaned and fumbled at the buttons of his shirt. I wanted to feel him against me, to run my hands over the ridges and planes of his back. As he caressed my cheeks, I cursed whoever had invented buttons. I think I ripped the last two off, but Kailen didn't seem to mind.

And then his shirt was on the floor and he was pulling my sweater off and I was helping him. He took a step forward, leaned me against the island, and pressed his body into mine. His lips came down and trailed kisses across my neck. I gasped. I hadn't been touched this way in a long time. Okay, maybe never was more like it.

The scent of honeysuckle floated in the air.

I put my hands to his chest and pushed him back long enough to gasp out a few words. “Are you...?”

“Elicitation can provide other benefits, not just coercion.” Kailen ran a hand across my back. “I can stop if you want.” His breath stirred the hair next to my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

I checked the glass sliding door, my windows. The blinds were shut tight. We were alone. Stop? I'd probably kill him if he stopped now. I trailed my hand down his chest, over his stomach, to the waistband of his pants.

He caught my hand before I could undo his belt. “No,” he said. “Not yet.” Kailen reached down and lifted me into his arms. I was tall, but he was taller. He started up the stairs. I nestled into his chest, delighting in the feel of his warm skin. His lips kissed the top of my head, my forehead. I tucked my chin to my chest and hoped he didn’t feel me tremble.

I didn’t want to meet his eyes. Somehow, beneath the fiery hot sensation of lust, I recognized that this night might mean more to him than it did to me. I tried to suppress the guilt that tangled in my chest.

When we reached the bedroom, he set me on my feet. “Nicole,” he said, his voice low, “are you sure?”

I wanted to grab him, to caress his shoulders, to take off his belt and see if his lower half matched his upper half. Instead, I took a deep breath. “Are you?”

As an answer, he growled, pulled me close, and kissed me so fiercely that I forgot what I’d been asking in the first place. We stumbled toward the bed. I pulled at his belt while he undid the button of my pants, our lips locked, our breathing heavy.

I tripped as I stepped out of my pants, but Kailen caught me, eased me back into his arms. I let out a breathy giggle, but he brought a hand up to brush the hair from my eyes, and I suddenly couldn’t breathe at all. In the darkness of the room, the half-moon shining through the window, I could barely see his eyes. But I knew they fixed on mine, searching. What did he want to see?

He cleared his throat. “I lo—”

I reached down and grabbed him before he could say anything else. I didn't need this right now. And what if he was just reliving his past with Penny? His words turned into a moan. I melted into his chest, putting him off balance. I'd hoped to force him onto the bed, but he pivoted, swinging me around and laying me across the covers. Before I could take another breath, he was on top of me. His hands found mine, fingers twining in my own.

He leaned down, whispered in my ear. “Just you and me. Tonight, we can forget about anything else.”

I wrapped my legs around him, bringing him closer. “Then let's get busy forgetting,” I whispered back.

We did.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Kailen was there when I woke up the next morning. His chest was against my back, one arm draped over my waist. I wanted, suddenly, to be anywhere else. One night and I felt suffocated, cloistered, claustrophobic.

Did that make me a bad person?

I tried, subtly, to scoot away. It wasn’t as if Kailen hadn't acquitted himself well in the bedroom. And if I wanted to be honest with myself, “well” was the understatement of the century. Saying elicitation had its benefits was like saying having a million dollars was nice. After eight years of being with only Owen, I'd always worried that things might be different if I ever had to get back “out there,” that I'd only find men who were grossly incompatible with me sexually. So I could cross that worry off the list. But I'd just irreversibly complicated the relationships I had—between me and Owen, and between me and Kailen. Had last night been fun? Absolutely. Would I do it again? Probably. Did I want it to become something that happened regularly?