Darling Beast (Maiden Lane 7)

Dead.

Strangely, he didn’t hear a thing.

George turned and saw him and raised the pistol, but he’d already used the one shot to kill Lily, his beloved Lily, so Apollo batted it aside. The pistol went spinning into the underbrush as Apollo raised his hand and plowed it into George’s face.

He didn’t hear that, either. Or feel it.

Just as well.

George went down and Apollo followed, beating into that face, because it was the last thing Lily had seen—the face of her killer—and he meant to destroy it.

Blood spattered and George opened his mouth, his teeth scarlet-stained. He might’ve been saying something, might’ve been begging, but since Apollo couldn’t hear, it didn’t matter.

Something crunched beneath his knuckles, and Apollo realized he was grinning, his lips pulled back from his bared teeth, turned into the monster Lily had first thought him.

It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered anymore.

George spat blood and a bit of broken white that might’ve been a tooth and Apollo split his ear.

But the eyes were still there—the eyes that had looked on Lily’s death—and he aimed his fist toward them.

“Apollo.” The voice was Lily’s, but that couldn’t be, because… because…

Her hands, white and soft, wrapped about his bloodied knuckles and gently stopped him.

Sound suddenly rushed back in.

George was breathing with a harsh rasp, Apollo was making a noise like a sob, and Lily…

Dear God, Lily was saying his name.

He looked up and saw her face, blackened on one side with flecks of blood high on one cheek.

He let the front of George’s shirt go and his head thudded against the ground.

Apollo turned on his knees and cupped her sweet face with his unclean hands. “How?” he choked. “I saw you die. I saw you fall dead to the ground.”

“The pistol fired over my shoulder,” she whispered. “Apollo, what have you done to your poor hands?”

“God!” he cried, pulling her face down to his, kissing her nose and cheeks and eyelids, making sure she still lived and breathed. “Dear God, Lily, never do that to me again.”

“I won’t, love.” Tears were making muddy streaks through the gunpowder on her cheek. “Ow, that stings.”

Richard Perry, Baron Ross stepped out from the bushes. “Get away from her.”

“Sod off,” Apollo retorted, possibly because he was too tired to be surprised.

“Get away from her or I’ll shoot her.” Ross, of course, had not one but two pistols.

Reluctantly Apollo stood and took a step away from Lily. “We really must talk, darling, about the sort of riffraff you bring to secret meetings.”

“I didn’t know he was there,” Lily said grumpily.

“Did you really think my good friend George wouldn’t tell me about my son?” Ross said. “Jesus, he said this would be easy—capture you, Kilbourne, and get my son. Look at this mess now. Have you killed George?”

“Sadly, no,” Apollo replied without glancing at the man on the ground. He could hear his cousin’s harsh breathing. “Put the damned gun down.” He was becoming tired of people pointing guns at his Lily.