Destiny Kills (Myth and Magic 1)
He led me forward, quickly and quietly. My bare feet made little noise on the stones, and though he was wearing boots, he was as silent as a ghost. I wondered how he managed it, but didn’t dare ask because we were too close to the building. The wind would carry any sound we made directly toward those in the house.
If there was anyone in the house.
He moved into the deeper shadows, keeping low as he snuck past windows, forcing me to do the same. No sound rode the night—nothing touched the wind but the soft sound of our breathing. Mine fast, his even.
When we neared the kitchen, he stopped, then pressed me back against the clapboards. “Wait here.”
“But—”
He touched my lips gently, halting my protest. “Sneaking is my trade—and it’s not me they want. Stay here, and stay safe.”
I nodded. He dropped his hand, then disappeared into the night, becoming one with the shadows within seconds. I hunkered down, using the bushes as cover, straining to hear what was going on.
But the night remained hushed, the wind free of any sounds that didn’t belong in the darkness.
After what seemed like ages, awareness tingled across my skin and I looked up to see Trae striding toward me, an almost contrite smile touching his lips.
“What?” I whispered, as I stood up.
“Turns out it was a blown bulb.” He shrugged and held out his hand. “Come on, let’s get you inside and warm.”
I placed my hand in his, and let him lead me again. The house was no warmer than outside, but at least it was free of the wind.
He’d left the flashlight on this time, though with the battery on its last legs, the light it gave out wasn’t very bright. But he’d also left his laptop on and open, and the screen’s brightness washed across the shadows, providing enough light to see where we were going.
“Did you manage to come up with a plan to raid the old lady’s house?” I stopped near the bench and studied the floor plans on the screen. “That place is huge—the damn safe could be anywhere.”
“It’ll be in the library or the office, most likely.” He reached across the bench and picked up the plastic bags filled with the clothes he’d bought me. “You want to go get dressed?”
I looked at the clothes, then at him. “You sure you want me to do that?”
He gave me a crooked smile that was filled with little boy cheekiness, and yet there was nothing innocent about the desire and need in his eyes. “To be honest, no. But you lost a lot of blood today and no matter how you feel or how well that wound has healed, you’re still looking a little pale. You need to rest, not exert yourself even more.”
I raised an eyebrow, a smile teasing my lips. “Might be my one and only offer.”
“I doubt it.”
“See, there’s that arrogance coming to the fore again.”
“Go get changed, then I’ll tell you about our plans for tomorrow.”
I gave a theatrical sigh, and he chuckled lightly and pushed me toward the door. “Trust me, sweetheart, this restraint is only going to last as long as your recovery. Enjoy it while you can.” He tossed me the T-shirt. “Use that to dry yourself.”
I went. After stripping off his jacket, I toweled myself dry and dragged on the underclothing, jeans, and sweatshirt he’d bought. The man was a good judge of women’s sizes, because they all fit like a glove. I shoved the jacket back on, not only because the night was getting colder, but it smelled so good, and headed back out.
His gaze swept down my length, and an approving sort of smile touched his lips. “Now, that’s what I call a hip-hugging pair of jeans.”
“One has to wonder how many girlfriends you’ve had over the years to be able to judge a woman’s size so well.” I tossed the empty plastic bag and damp T-shirt on the bench, then began to finger-comb my hair.
“Ain’t denying there’s been a few.” He shrugged. “I’m a man. That’s what men do.”
I raised an eyebrow. “So you’re admitting to being a whore?”
“Nope. Just oversexed.”
“Says the man who recently said no.”
“Hey, that was consideration. A rare event you should appreciate, not sneer at.”