Destiny Kills (Myth and Magic 1)
I nodded and hunted around until I found the coffeemaker, and then the coffee. As it began to burble and spurt, Trae dumped the last of the bags and his laptop on the chair near the bed, then said, “I think I’ll get rid of this car and get a new one. That scientist you knocked out could remember the plate number. And the original owners would probably have noticed it missing by now.”
“Most people would notice the car is not where they parked it the night before,” I agreed dryly.
“It makes the life of a thief more hazardous, I tell you. And cops tend to get antsy when they discover you’re driving a stolen car.”
“Well, maybe that’s because it is against the law.”
“And yet it’s practically a national pastime.”
“Doesn’t make it right, my friend.”
“Depends on your definition of right, doesn’t it?” Amusement played about his mouth. “I should be back before dawn. You stay here and get some more rest.”
“You really have a thing about me being rested, don’t you?”
His sudden grin made my pulse jump about like a crazy thing. “Maybe I have an ulterior motive.”
“Oh, of that I have no doubt,” I said dryly. “The thief always has a plan, doesn’t he?”
“You can bet your life on it, sweetheart.” He glanced at his watch, then added, “Don’t unlock the door for anyone.”
“Except you.”
“I’ll have the key.”
“Oh. Okay.”
His gaze skimmed my body, then he muttered something and spun on his heel, walking out the door.
Leaving me smiling. The thief definitely wanted me as much as I wanted him.
God, was it only yesterday I was telling myself I had to show a little restraint to honor Egan’s memory?
It seemed restraint and me weren’t exactly on speaking terms right now. I closed my eyes and tried to picture Egan in my mind. But his image was blurred—like a photo in which the subject had moved.
And the image that remained looked an awful lot like Trae.
Egan, I’m sorry I’m not stronger. I’m sorry I can’t honor you as much as I had hoped.
He’d understand. I knew that. We were both sensual beings, but our lovemaking had always been a matter of need rather than desire. And at least now I understood why he had always seemed distant. His soul mate was dead, killed by his own father, and his heart had been shattered in the process.
Mine, however, had not.
And I wanted what he’d had so very briefly. Wanted what my parents had, even now, after all the years of being apart. And I knew, deep down, that it was here for the taking. If I was brave enough. Or maybe that should be if I was foolish enough. After all, my life right now wasn’t exactly sane.
I poured myself a coffee. After taking a sip, I grabbed a microwave meal from the bags, zapped it in the small microwave that was really the only cooking facility provided beyond the coffeemaker and small toaster, then sat down on the bed to watch TV.
An hour later, bored with the TV and growing tired of waiting for Trae, I stripped the covers back and climbed into bed. I was asleep within minutes of my head hitting the pillow.
When I woke, it was to the warmth of the sun streaming across my face and the heat of flesh pressed against my spine. His arm was slung casually over my hip, his fingertips lightly resting on my stomach. He wasn’t moving, and his breathing was soft, even. Asleep, even as I was suddenly, gloriously, awake.
I didn’t move, and as tempting as it was to press back against him, to stir him to life as I was stirring to life, I didn’t. Even a thief needed his sleep, and I had no idea how long he’d been out last night.
So I lay there, wrapped
in the spicy, tangy scent of him, listening to him breathe and feeling the warm wash of his breath across one shoulder. My skin tingled, my body ached like crazy, and every little movement he made had shivers of delight flashing across my nerve endings.
Naturally, he slept for what seemed like forever.