Embraced By Darkness (Riley Jenson Guardian 5)

"Honestly? Sometimes I just don't know."

He couldn't have hurt me any more if he'd hit me. How could he honestly think I was playing games? I wasn't Rhoan - I had no hunger to fight the restrictions of a relationship and play the field. I wanted a home and a family and one man to call my own - and Kellen knew that. "That's a horrible thing to say."

"Perhaps, but it's also the truth. For most of our relationship, I've felt like a third wheel. There was always Quinn, or work, ahead of whatever you and I were doing. I'm not built to stand around and wait, Riley. I never will be."

"But Quinn's gone - "

"Work isn't."

"Dammit, you know I can't abandon work. Not when there's so few people in the day division." Hell, we'd discussed my being a guardian - and just what it entailed - up on Monitor Island. We'd even talked about the whole fertility thing, and me being a half-breed. None of it had seemed to be a problem to him.

But maybe he'd had the time to dwell on it since then. If so, I guess I had to be glad my work seemed more of a. problem for him than my mixed heritage and inability to carry a child.

He continued, "All I'm asking for is a decision on us going solo. It's not like I'm asking for forever."

No, but if I went solo, it would be because I was sure it would end up with forever. Right now, what I wanted most was time. Time to grow into us. Time to be really sure. I didn't want to go solo only to have it all fall apart. "It's too early - "

"It's not" He grasped my shoulders and shook me lightly. "You keep saying you want the white picket fence ideal, and yet you seem totally unwilling to step Into the arena and take a chance."

"After being used and abused by a past couple of mates, a certain amount of caution is hardly surprising," I retorted.

"Caution, yes. Feet dragging? No. I won't wait forever, Riley. Patience is not one of my virtues."

"It's not one of mine, either. Trust me on that." I reached for my clothes. "I'm going for a swim then I'll head off to the assignment. And I'll come back to your place as soon as I can."

He studied me for a moment, his green eyes still bright with a mix of annoyance and determination. He wasn't going to give up until he'd gotten what he wanted, and a small part of me couldn't help being-thrilled by that knowledge.

"And the commitment I'm asking for?"

I rose. "I want this to work as much as you do, Kellen, but I won't be pushed into anything. Not again."

"I'm not pushing. I'm just asking you to think about it."

"I will."

"Good." He paused, then added softly, "Just remember, I'm not Liander."

"Well thank heavens for that. I mean, he's gay."

His grin seemed reluctant, but he rose and drew me into a kiss that was very much a signal of intent. A statement of caring and demand.

In some ways it was scary. In others, exhilarating. I mightn't be sure that I wanted to take that extra step so soon into our relationship, but I was sure of one thing. I didn't want it to end.

Which meant I might have to take that step, go exclusive, before I was really sure about the true breadth of my feelings for him.

But I didn't say that. Didn't say anything. Just enjoyed his kiss and his closeness while I could.

I had a quick dip in the old dam we'd camped beside, then dressed and hurried over to the cab. Kellen gave me his jacket and another toe-curling kiss, then sent me on my way.

Once we were on the highway and headed for the address Jack had sent me, I retrieved Kellen's phone from my pocket and went through the files.

The information was sketchy, at best.

Apparently, a neighbor had heard strange sounds in a nearby vacant house and, on investigation, had spotted a shadowy figure inside. He'd reported it to police, who'd arrived, found the victim, and called the Directorate.

There were no details of the murder or the victim, which probably meant the cops had sealed the scene, awaiting our arrival. It also meant the Directorate's forensic team hadn't arrived yet, because otherwise there'd be at least some description of events.

I looked back down at the files. In the past, the strength of my connection with the dead seemed to depend on the freshness of the death. The newer the death, the stronger the connection - and the more likely I'd be able to successfully interpret or understand what they were trying to say. If indeed they had something to say. But part of me was hoping that the soul wasn't hanging about. Talking to dead people wasn't on my list of favorite things to do.