"In three days." I gasped as his mouth latched on to that sensitive part of my throat, my pulse dancing against his tongue.
"Are you in danger?"
I only half paid attention to his question as his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of my pants. There may not have been time to have sex, but this, there was time for this.
"May-be." It felt as if the word was dragged out of me as he slid two fingers into my wetness, stretching me in a way that reminded me exactly how big he was.
"If anyone touches you, they will die." It was a vow more than a promise, and I allowed myself to lean against him fully, my teeth digging into his shoulder as he held me through the pleasure he wrought upon my body.
The small pulsing against my temples were the first signs of a headache. This headache was courtesy of Brenna. Since the minute I had stepped out of our room, showered and dressed for our outing, she had offered her constant criticisms of how I hadn't protected the house sufficiently - and when we slid into the backseat of the Cadillac, she was aghast that I hadn't offered the driver a charmed keyring for everyone's protection and safety - particularly tied to travel.
And as we stood at the threshold of the warehouse, crouching down in the dust with Dimitri to examine the fine white sketches that looked like some version of a ruine or sigil, Brenna still peppered me with her opinion on all my shortcomings as a Witch.
The problem I found was that she was right.
"You should have sigils in the doorways on all the entry points."
Brenna's suggestions were unhelpful because everything she was currently lecturing me on, I already knew. But I couldn't snap at her - couldn't even rage at her, because even though I knew the rules of protection, I hadn't applied them - at least not to the warehouses.
So, instead, I swallowed down my pride and smiled up at The Sun.
"You going to help me?" I posed it as a question, playing to her inherent need to be superior to everyone in the Club.
"Obviously." She huffed as she rolled her eyes in my direction - as if the very notion of me not asking her was completely out of the question.
"Do you recognise these symbols?" I pointed to the sketched markings on the ground. If she was here, I was certainly going to use her for whatever expertise she truly had to offer.
Dimitri, thankfully, remained silent throughout Brenna's growing list of things she needed to correct me on, and I was certain that by the end of the day Emily Rand would have a solid rival when it came to who exactly Dimitri loathed more.
I watched her form turn rigid as she scanned the markings, and even if she hadn't uttered the words, I would have known the truth from her body language alone.
"No." Her lip curled in disdain, and this was the part that most people didn't see. Brenna was angry with herself for not knowing - furious in a way that made me painfully aware that she thought that she somehow should have known - as if it were her duty.
Everyone in the Club was well versed in the standards of Brenna McGowan, but I wasn't about to start being her therapist, and so I pulled out my phone and dutifully took a photo of the markings before sending them to Charl - his network was far greater than mine, and if anyone could identify these markings, it would be him.
Sighing, I allowed my body to curl upwards, my spine stretched in a way that was oddly satisfying, and for a moment I longed to linger on the sidewalk and stretch beneath the sun.
The warmth of Dimitri’s palm pulsed against my clothing as he guided me forward by the small of my back.
The warehouse was tinged with an ominous presence, and I felt myself stalling on the threshold, wondering what I would find if I had any kind of gift that allowed me to converse with those who had passed. And even if I wasn't quite ready, I allowed Dimitri's strong hand to guide me, pushing me into the musty warehouse.
The first thing I noticed was the stench. It vaguely reminded me of when a rat died in an inconvenient part of your house, leaving you with only your sense of smell to track down its remains and rid your home of its body.
I made the decision to breathe through my mouth, my boots leaving stark footprints in the white dust that seemed to glitter the entire floor. I imagined that this was what a flour factory looked like, only this wasn't a flour factory, and Dimitri wasn't a baker.
"It smells like death." Brenna wrinkled her nose in distaste, as if someone else's death was an inconvenience to her.
"Tommy and Billy were here the day the explosion set off, and by all accounts, no one has seen them since."
Darkness swam across my vision as I realized that no one had found them because of me - I had ordered the men to stand down - instructed everyone that they weren't allowed to set foot in here, not until I had come to inspect this place myself. All so I could what? Take photos of some sketches on the sidewalk?
Eli's absolute disdain for me was beginning to make a lot more sense.
"Those are their names?" Brenna's voice was filled with indignation, and I struggled to calm my breathing - struggled to not want to kill her. Because of course she had something to say about the deceased.
"I mean, I know what you guys do, but I was honestly not expecting them to have such run-of-the-mill mobster names."
"You think Tommy and Billy are mobster names?" Dimiti deadpanned, and I wanted to elbow him for encouraging her.