Warrior Enchanted: The Sons of the Zodiac (14 page)

His own temper felt heightened somehow as he held
it, but Grey also couldn’t discount this weird anxiety that had gripped him since pulling Finley from the building.

He shouldn’t have done it.

And even as he thought that, he knew he couldn’t have left her behind.

“You can’t keep her here, Grey.” Quinn tapped a few keys on his computer as he watched his security monitors. Despite the technological multitasking, Grey knew the bull was completely focused on the conversation.

“The hell I can’t. She’s in danger, even if she won’t accept it.”

“Keeping her here isn’t the solution. She’s a mortal.”

“Ava was one, too. That didn’t stop Brody from dragging her here when things got tough.”

“It’s not the same and you know it. Finley works for the DA’s office, for fuck’s sake. She can’t know the depths of what we are.”

“I can’t let her go back into a situation where I know she’s a target.”

“The DA’s office and organized crime have a long history.” Quinn tapped a few more keys. “I’m sure they can arrange protection for her.”

“Who’s going to protect her from the DA?”

Quinn looked up at that, his quick mind hitting the mark immediately. “You think the DA set her up?”

“Less him and more likely someone in his office. Those goons shouldn’t have known who she was.”

“She did go walking into their meeting.” The bull leaned forward in his chair, taking a closer look at the screen. “She put herself in danger.”

“After being set up with information that wasn’t accurate.”

“But she gave you the information things were going down at the warehouse.” Quinn hesitated briefly before adding, “You sure she’s not setting you up?”

The harsh retort was on his lips—and was almost out—before Grey pulled himself back. He wouldn’t rise to the bait.

Nor was he willing to pick a fight with his Warrior brother just because Quinn had the stones to ask him the hard questions.

“I don’t think she’s setting me up. The fear in her eyes was too real to fake. Besides, she was snagged too quickly. Like someone knew she’d be approaching the warehouse.”

Quinn nodded before giving him a small, rueful smile. “I saw it all on camera and I don’t think she set you up either, for what it’s worth. But I had to ask.”

“We’ve run through that tape six times. Nothing’s sticking out.”

“I made you a copy anyway.” Quinn pulled a thumb drive from one of his machines and handed it over. “Look at it with fresh eyes. See if you can find anything after you think about it.”

Grey took the drive, but knew he could watch it another hundred times and not turn up anything new. They’d watched for clues, but the information they needed wasn’t on that video.

“Let’s put her up somewhere. Callie’s got some resources. We can get her in a safe house and keep her there until you can gather some more information.”

“I want her with me.”

One dark eyebrow quirked at that news. While the urge to drag back the words rose up in Grey’s throat, he held back. It was the truth, damn it. He didn’t want Finley out of his sight.

Quinn’s voice was speculative when he finally spoke. “That’s a new one for you.”

“She’s in danger, and I’m not changing my mind.”

“How does Counselor McCrae feel about it?”

“She doesn’t have a choice.”

A heavy bark of laughter filled the space between them. “Oh, this is going to be fun. If there’s anything marriage has taught me its that women have a funny way of providing their thoughts on matters they don’t have a choice over. And gorgeous women with brains…” Quinn laughed again. “Watch out.”

“Until I figure out what’s going on, she’s going to have to find a way to accept it.”

“I can get into her computer. Delete all evidence of her files and whatever her coworkers have as well. We’ll keep an eye on her for a few weeks.” Quinn looked up, paused. “You really can’t wipe her mind?”

“I told you, she’s completely immune to it.”

Quinn’s loud burst of laughter echoed around the heavy equipment in his office. “That’s rich. The Fates have some fucking sense of humor.”

“How do you figure?”

The shitty grin spread even farther before Quinn matched it with a sly lift of the eyebrows. “You really need it spelled out for you?”

The shame of it all was that he didn’t need it spelled out for him. It had already announced itself with all the
force of a tornado. He was nursing an unnecessary—and completely idiotic—crush on Finley. And fuck him if he had any idea what to do about it.

Quinn stood from his rolling leather chair and offered up a quick backslap. “I guess there’s only one other question. Do you think she can be trusted with the truth?”

Grey leaned forward and watched the feed from the kitchen, where Finley sat talking with Callie. “I wish to hell I knew.”

Emerson twisted in the late-afternoon light, inspecting the shiner—no, the mouse—in her bedroom mirror. The bruise was a small one and could easily be hidden with a bit of artfully applied makeup. It wouldn’t last long and would heal even quicker once she made the poultice her grandmother used for everything from poison ivy to a toothache.

In the meantime, she decided to enjoy it. She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit to feeling like the slightest bit of a badass as she twisted and turned and preened at her battle scar.

What she hadn’t expected was Drake’s fierce reaction to the attack.

Of course, if she were being completely honest with herself, she had to admit his innately protective nature probably had more to do with his reaction. They
were
attacked. It was only natural his Warrior nature was going to jump straight into a fight.

“He loves you, you know.”

Callie’s words from the other day reared up in a loud reminder, cutting off the excuses.

When had her casual affair become so complicated? And why was she fundamentally unable to separate her head from her heart?

On a sigh, she resolved to put it firmly out of her mind. Until her gaze alighted on the hand mirror on top of her dresser.

Suppressing the overwhelming urge to scry on Drake just so she could ogle his ass, Emerson deliberately moved away from the dresser to make the bed.

Why did she keep going back to the same place when it came to the subject of Drake?

She didn’t do love. She’d made that decision a long time ago, when even her family—people who knew and understood who and what she was—couldn’t accept her.

There was no way a man would.

Oh sure, Drake liked the sex—who didn’t?—but he wasn’t going to be interested in the long haul with a woman who could shrivel his balls with the snap of a finger.

And no man, Emerson knew, no matter how powerful his physical presence, would ever trust a woman who innately wielded as much power as she did.

A loud rush of air had her whirling around, a pillow still clutched in her hand as the very object of her thoughts arrived in the middle of her bedroom.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.”

“So you just”—Emerson broke off, searching for the right word—“popped into my room!”

“I never pop.”

She almost laughed at the pure masculine affront
that lined his face, but held it back in favor of giving him a hard time. “Could have fooled me, Ace.”

“Besides, I had no interest in going another round with your brother, which would have inevitably happened if I came in the front door.”

She wanted to argue with him but knew it was a useless exercise. Magnus had a bug up his ass about Drake, and she suspected she wasn’t going to break up the testosterone-fueled dick duel the two of them had going.

The fact that Drake was man enough to walk away was a pleasant surprise.

His words pulled her from her thoughts. “I need to talk to you. I went back to the park.”

“Why?”

Drake moved in close, his large body overpowering hers as he lifted a hand to her face. With a whisper-light caress, his finger traced her cheek. “That little demon put a mark on you. I wanted to know why.”

On a heavy gulp, she kept herself from lifting her own hand and covering his. “Did you find him?”

“Aye.”

She couldn’t move for a moment, the strength in his fingers and the feel of his large hand warm against her cheek a sensual feast. For one small moment, she wanted to savor the way he made her feel like a most precious treasure.

Emerson reveled in the moment until his words penetrated the sensual haze his slightest touch could evoke. “Wait a minute. Yes? As in yes you found him?”

“I did. He’s not all that smart.”

The moment broken, Emerson stepped back as she
imagined all sorts of things befalling him. “The same could be said for you to head straight back to the same place.”

“I’ve dealt with Phobos before.”

She was interested despite herself. “Who is he?”

“The god of fear. He’s a god in his own right, but Enyo sort of pressed him into her service a long time ago.”

“You think Enyo had something to do with this morning?”

Drake took a seat on the edge of her bed, the incongruity of that large form sitting on a bright yellow afghan her grandmother had knitted for her years ago not lost on her. “That’s what I can’t figure out. She’s laid low the last several months, but there aren’t any of the usual signs to suggest she’s ready to come out of hiding.”

“Signs?”

“The Destroyer attacks increase and there’s this general feeling of going on high alert when Enyo starts cooking up one of her schemes. I can’t explain it much better, but after several thousand years of fighting each other, we’ve sort of figured out each other’s tells.”

The truth of his words struck with blunt force and she made herself busy tidying up the papers she had lying on her small desk in the corner of the room. “You’ve really been at this for a long time.”

“A very long time.”

“So this time and place is just a blip for you.”
I’m
a blip for you.

“It doesn’t feel like a blip when you’re in the moment. It feels very present and very real.”

Emerson kept her hands busy, organizing papers and stacking the normal disorder of her desk into neat
piles. “But you’re immortal. This day will fade. Will blend in with all the others.”

He was behind her before she could register his movement, his large hands covering her shoulders as he bent his head to the curve of her neck. “The days with you will never fade, Emerson. Never blend. I remember all of them.” His lips brushed lightly against the tender skin of her neck as his warm breath sent shivers coursing down her spine. “Every. Single. Moment.” He punctuated his words with kisses.

Her knees buckled, but it didn’t matter. He was there. Holding her up.

Holding her steady.

“It can’t change who you are. Who I am, Drake.”

“I wouldn’t want to change you.” More kisses rained over her skin. “Ever.”

“But we’re so different. There’s just no middle ground. Your immortality is just one piece of it.” An easy piece to focus on, truth be told. If she was pointing at him, she wouldn’t have to expose her vulnerability.

Wouldn’t have to watch him walk away, which he’d inevitably do.

“We’re not that different.” His hand slid down, over her breast to rest on her stomach as he pulled her back against his body. She felt the solid wall of him, punctuated by the hard length of his erection that pressed into her spine. At the answering tug between her legs, she had to acknowledge that on this point they weren’t far apart at all.

What lived between them was a special brand of magic all its own.

“Come on. You know as well as I do it’s complicated.”
Ignoring the rush of need and want, she squirmed in his embrace. But he remained gently immovable.

“Still finding excuses?”

She closed her eyes on his question as his tongue traced the lines of her ear, the pure pleasure of his lips and hands and body in sharp contrast to the reality of their situation.

The reality of just how far apart they were from each other.

“The truth isn’t an excuse.”

Damn, but the woman could argue with the tides that they weren’t going to crash to shore. Drake maintained his hold on her, unwilling to let her go just yet. Unwilling to break the sensual feast she presented to his senses.

She calmed him and excited him, all at the same time. When he held her the raging waters receded and he could take quiet, easy breaths.

Even as she infuriated the hell out of him.

Like the joined fish that lived under his skin, marking that he was in service to Themis, he was bound to Emerson. And he took an odd sort of solace in her words. If she thought about his immortality, then she did a lot more thinking about the two of them than her outward behavior would imply.

With the innate patience he was known for, he decided to dig for the truth underlying her words. Immortality was an easy thing to focus on, but it also smacked of a convenient excuse. “You’ve got a longer-than-average life span, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yes.” She tried to move out of his embrace again,
but he stayed firm, adding another layer of kisses to the soft hair at her nape, satisfied when he felt her shiver.

“How long?”

“If I’m lucky and I take care of myself, probably around a hundred and twenty-five. Maybe a bit more, especially as modern science keeps extending everyone’s lives.”

“That’s a long time.”

“It’s a long time for a human. It’s still a blip on the radar for an immortal.” When she shifted—her intent telegraphed in the stiff lines of her body—he let her go.

And they’d fall back on their usual positions and battle instead. He turned away from the desk to face her where she now stood in the middle of the room. “And this is why you’ve kept your distance from me? Why you won’t give in to what’s between us?”

“Yes.”

She hesitated with the briefest of pauses. He’d likely have missed it if it weren’t for the fact that he drank her in when they were together. “You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. You’re going to live forever and I’ll be an old woman in the blink of those bedroom eyes of yours. You live in the moment, Ace? Then take a bit of advice.”