Mission: Improper: London Steampunk: The Blue Blood Conspiracy (35 page)

“
A
NY REASON
WE’RE heading down this street?”
Ingrid murmured as she strolled beside Byrnes.

Midnight had come and gone, and they’d completed the list of tasks that they’d been given to prepare for dawn.
The Nighthawks were ready and would meet them at the edge of the search area.
Now she was tired, and wanted to snatch a few hours of sleep before she had to go vampire hunting.

Clearly not what Byrnes had planned.

He nodded toward the small set of rooms she’d leased.
“I wanted to show you something.”

“I’m fairly certain I’ve already seen it, Byrnes,” she drawled.

“I’m fairly certain you haven’t.
I prepared it the other day, when you were recovering.”

That caught her attention.
What on earth was he up to?
“At my set of rooms?”

“You’ll see.”
Byrnes climbed the stairs to the front door, then leapt up and dragged himself onto the roof beside it, reaching down to offer her a hand.

“Now you’ve caught my attention.”
She let him help her up, and then he popped the lock on her window and slipped inside.
“Just what are you up to?”

“Mischief.”

“Well, that’s nothing new.”
Ingrid slung her leg over the windowsill.
There was an array of small tools laid on a strip of leather beside the skirting boards.
"You fixed my skirting boards?”

"Oh, Ingrid."
He pressed his ear against the wall, then frowned, toying with something in his belt.
"I didn’t fixing your skirting boards.
I promised to give you a present, something you’d never been given before.”

Ingrid’s gaze shot to his.
She’d been expecting a gift-wrapped box when she set this challenge.
Not a roll of tools on the floor.
“What is it?”

He held out some sort of device to her.
"Press the button."

It was a small brass box with a dial on the interface.
Ingrid hesitantly pushed the ON button.
Almost instantly she felt like she wanted to itch her skin.
There was something whining in the walls, almost on the edge of hearing.

"It works somewhat like the Nighthawks’ communicators," he explained.
"A high-pitched frequency just enough to...."
Taking the box, he fiddled with several knobs and the whine died down until it vanished, at least to her hearing.

"Just enough to...?"

A smile flashed over his face, that particular one that changed his entire aspect, like the sun creeping over the horizon at dawn and lighting the world.
"It gets rid of vermin, Ingrid."

Surprise took hold of her.

"No more rats, Fitz assures me.
They cannot abide the sound.
He has something like this rigged at the guild."

Ingrid's mouth parted, and there was a suspicious warmth in her eyes.
"You....
You...."

Byrnes waited, but she couldn't seem to put it into words.
Or maybe there were none needed.
That little smile was back, toying about his lips.
"You're welcome."

This was a gift unlike any other, and she was so choked up with emotion that she couldn’t quite use her voice until she swallowed it all down.
It truly was the greatest gift he could have given her.

Except for his heart.
Ingrid glanced away.
She wasn’t going to ask for that.
She didn’t dare.
“And what reward do you want to claim for this challenge?”

Byrnes frowned, looking down at the screwdriver he’d picked up.
“It’s tempting….”
He flipped the small screwdriver in the air, then caught it.
“But we need to talk.”
He looked up.
“I just want an answer.
That’s all, Ingrid.”

Ingrid circled a chair, resting her hands on it before realizing that she’d deliberately placed a barrier between them.
“About us?”

“About us.”

Ingrid scowled.
“I don’t know what to think.
One moment you want to earn kisses for challenges, the next thing you’re telling me this is a bad idea, and then all of a sudden you’re trying to charm me again.”

“This has nothing to do with charm.
I just realized what I truly want.”

“Oh?”

Byrnes took a step toward her.
"And it wasn't just you in my bed."

If he keeps up like this, I might almost start to believe him.
"Stop saying things like that."

"Why?"
Byrnes stepped closer, hovering but three inches away.
"It's the truth, Ingrid.
And I don't lie.
Not about the important things."

No, he didn’t.
Sometimes the truth wasn’t one you wanted to hear, but it was always true.
"I thought you wanted to forget me."
Her right foot stepped back, as if to flee, then she firmed.
She wasn't retreating from anything, particularly him.
Not anymore.
"Burn me from your blood?
Get your fix of me, so that then I could stop haunting you?"

"I'm an idiot."

"Are you trying to pretend that you didn't mean those words?"
she scoffed, her heart starting to pound a little swifter in her ears.
No.
No, it couldn't be
.
She didn't dare believe it.
"That you've been harboring some sort of secret tendre for me for the past year?"

Byrnes tossed the screwdriver aside and it slapped against the wall before dropping to the floor.
She was fairly certain that she also heard some sort of growl deep in his throat, but then this was Byrnes.
Caleb Byrnes, who kept his emotions locked away under lock and key.

"No, I didn't," he shot back.
"None of this started with any romantic intentions.
I'll concede that.
Passionate ones, yes, but not romantic.
You drove me crazy, Ingrid.
You haunted me.
And I wanted you.
But I didn't want forever."

Her shoulders dropped, almost in relief.

Byrnes took another step toward her, closing the gap between them until the backs of his fingers brushed against her shoulder.
"But I was lying to myself."

Ingrid's gaze shot to his in shock.

"I kept telling myself that sex was all this was, as if I could somehow convince the part of me that knew better."
A hand reached out and pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear.
As cool as marble, his hand curled against her cheek, cupping her face.
"And I almost believed it.
Until I found you nearly torn apart in my mother's room.
Until I watched a vampire chase you out on a bridge with an explosive device strapped to its back.
I can't pretend that this—what lies between us—means nothing to me.
If I look at us from a rational perspective, this doesn't make any sense.
We're a disaster waiting to happen."
His face twisted as he grimaced.
"But the idea of not having you...
of not being with you....
I couldn't think of anything worse.
And so I've tried not to be selfish.
I've tried to step away and let you be, but I can't do it anymore."
That hand curled behind her nape, dragging her closer to his body, until his forehead brushed against hers and his breath caressed her lips.
"I want you, Ingrid Miller.
And I don't know where this decision will take us, but I do know that I can't deny myself any longer.
And if you think this is just about a bet, well...
you'd be wrong.
I want you, and I want all of you.
And I don't know what to do with it."

Ingrid's hands curled into the lapels of his shirt as she held on for dear life, whilst everything she'd known shattered into dust.

Byrnes wanted her.

Not just for sex.

Forever?

"Say something," he murmured, drawing back just enough to look at her.
"This is possibly the most terrifying moment of my life."

A shaky breath escaped her.
She kept trying to sort out the puzzle pieces of their relationship, for it was easy to relegate it to little more than physical and not think anything more.
Or no, not easy.
Safer.

She didn't feel safe anymore.
She felt like the ground had dropped out from under her feet.
"Are you
serious
?"
She pushed away from him and paced past the window, dragging a hand through her hair.

"Deadly.”

Ingrid swallowed.
How could she do this?
How could she risk it?
“Damn you, I’ve lost everything.
I can’t—”

“I know you lost your family, Ingrid.”
He followed her.
“I know I can’t replace them.
But perhaps we could create something new together.”

Something new.
It was so tempting.

“You’re not the only one who fears the future.”
He laughed faintly.
“Do you think that any of this was planned?
Do you think that I’m not scared that I won’t measure up?
I know nothing of romance.
I know nothing of being...
being a husband.
Even a lover.
But I know that I want to try.
I know that I can't walk away from you.”

Ingrid swallowed.
Those words.

"Give me your third challenge," he demanded, his words a rasp.
A tremor ran through him, as though he repressed himself.

And suddenly, a part of her didn't want him to hesitate.
Ingrid met his eyes, seeing the need in them, the fierce fury.
All she'd ever wanted was to see Caleb Byrnes ruffled, to drive him to the point where he lost his mind.

And now she had it.

I'm scared
, she'd once said to Rosa.

That's how you know its real
, had been the reply.

And it was real.
She couldn't stop running from this.
Couldn't pretend that Caleb Byrnes didn't make her heart beat faster, and hope spread its wings within her chest.
Here was a man that she...
loved.
A man that she could make a future with, if only she dared.

So be it.

Ingrid tipped her chin up, her decision made, and shrugged out of the navy velvet coat she wore.
It hit the floor, and his gaze followed it then jerked back up to hers.

"The challenge is this: show me what it's like not to feel so alone," she told him.

She wasn't afraid anymore; Byrnes always spoke the truth.
He meant this.

Ingrid took a step forward, sliding her hands up his chest and the sleek leather of his coat.
"Fill up the empty spot inside me."
Her lips grazed his ear and she bit his lobe.
"Be mine, Caleb.
For tonight, for all the nights that remain.
Forever."

"Challenge accepted," he growled, and caught her by the hips.

Their mouths met as Ingrid locked her long legs around his waist, her arms sliding around his broad shoulders.

God, he was strong.
She clasped the back of his muscled neck, her tongue darting against his as he strode toward the side of the room.
Byrnes kissed her back as though he thought she was going to be taken from him; as if this spell could break if they had a moment to think it through.

She didn't need that moment.
And this spell was hers, damn it, her dream to take in both hands.
Nothing would deny her.
Not anymore.

I love you
.
She said it with a kiss, not quite daring to put it in words.
And he answered in kind, his mouth a harsh, desperate claiming.
You're mine
, his lips told her.

Byrnes set her on the vanity, wedging his hips between her thighs.
Rough hands slid up her corseted waist, the pads of his fingers grazing the smooth slope of her upper breasts.
"Jesus," he rasped.
"How's a man to think...?"

"That's the point."
She nipped at his mouth, kissed him again, harder, her hands stripping his coat off his shoulders.
"You're not supposed to be able to."