Wicked Wings (Lizzie Grace 5)

I grumbled unhappily but did so. He left a few minutes later, and despite my anxiety and frustration, I quickly fell to sleep.

It was close to six by the time he crawled back into bed. I turned around and snuggled closer. He wrapped an arm around me and gently caressed my spine.

“Bad?” I said.

“Yes. But we’re not entirely sure it was the Empusae.”

His touch moved down to my butt and pressed me closer. I slipped a leg over his and rubbed myself against him. Teasing him, readying me, although neither was really needed. Not if the desire surging between us was any indication—its scent was so strong that even I could smell it.

“Why?”

“Because while it was brutal, no one was flesh stripped. And I really don’t want to be discussing this right now.”

I raised an eyebrow, a smile teasing my lips. “Then what would you like to be doing?”

“You.”

He slipped inside. From that moment on, there was no talking, only rising desire and utter satisfaction.

Afterwards, when he was asleep, I rose and had a shower, then left him a note and caught a cab home. As much as I would have liked to remain in bed with him, I had a business to run.

It was a slow morning in the café, which was probably just as well given I was basically restricted to one arm. Monty hobbled in just after one and claimed the corner table.

I wandered over. “You here for lunch?”

“And to update you.”

I raised the muting spell again. “Aiden said you weren’t sure the murder last night was the work of the Empusae.”

He wrinkled his nose. “It had some of the hallmarks, but none of the bodies were eaten.”

I blinked. “Bodies? Plural?”

“Yeah—the victims were an old couple who lived on the outskirts of Dundoogal.”

Which was one of the border towns, if I remembered correctly. I frowned. “That’s out of the Empusae’s hunting area—do you think she did it as a parting gift?”

“I don’t know.” He scrubbed a hand across his face and, for the first time, the cheerfulness fell. “I’d like to think so, but I’ve a suspicion that’s not the case.”

“The White Lady might be able to tell us.” Belle placed a plate of steak and vegetables in front of him. “Felt you coming and asked Mike to cook this up for you.”

“Anticipating your man’s desires is a sign of true—” He stopped, his gaze running past us. “Daniela, what are you doing here?”

My head snapped around. She strode toward us, her expression giving little away, and her aura a vivid orange that oozed satisfaction.

I had a bad feeling that meant bad news for me.

Her brief smile was as remote and cool as her expression. “I just wanted a final word with Ms. Grace before I leave the reservation.”

I tried to quell the instinctive rise of annoyance and fear and forced a smile. “What about?”

She hesitated. “Perhaps somewhere more private would be best?”

I waved a hand toward the table. “There’s nowhere more private than here.”

Her gaze narrowed, then she nodded and sat down. “The muting spell is clever. I would still prefer, however, if it was a one-on-one conversation.”

“That would be my cue to get out of here.” Monty picked up his food and rose. His gaze met mine, full of warning.