might disappear after today.”
The shiver that ran through her body wasn’t just from the caress. “Not unless you want me to.”
“No,” he said. “That’s exactly what I don’t want you to do. In fact, I want you to stick around for a long, long time.”
Something eased inside her. “Right here?”
His eyes lit and he smiled a slow, sexy grin. “Actually, darlin’, I don’t give a shit where, as long as it’s with me.”
They were both smiling when he cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her.
His lips were warm and firm, his beard-shadow a bristly, masculine contrast as his mouth claimed hers, his tongue invaded, and heat pooled low in her belly. Anna leaned in, opened to him, and breathed the softest of moans.
How long had it been since she’d been kissed? Had she ever been kissed like this? She didn’t think so, didn’t remember this kind of hunger, this kind of combustion. She caught his wrists, not to pull him away, but to hold him close. His pulse thudded beneath her thumbs, bringing an electrical charge that flared from him to her and back again. There was magic in the moment and the man, she thought, but of the purely human variety. And she was very okay with that.
He eased the kiss, still cupping her face as he pulled back to take a long look around the room, as if suddenly seeing where she had hidden behind the shield, or the fading sparkle of magic in the air. “Seriously, though. What happened here?”
“What if I say that I’ll tell you the whole story one day?” she said, and was surprised not to feel the slightest twinge from her conscience.
She hadn’t ever told Dick the truth, hadn’t even considered it. And maybe that had been part of their problem, because as much as she had wanted to be truly human, it had been a lie. Now, though . . . yeah. Now, she thought she could talk about her childhood, the massacre, the magic, the war, all of it. And she thought David would believe it, even understand. He wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met before, not like anyone she could’ve imagined meeting.
“Okay, I’ll take that.” His grin was a lightning flash of perfect teeth. “No rush, by the way. We’ve got time.” He paused, searching her eyes. “Right?”
“Yes, we do.” Her smile felt like it lit her from within. “In fact, as of today, we’ve got all the time in the world.”
December 22
Skywatch
Myr came awake feeling warm, fuzzy, a little headachy, a lot dizzy, and so damn comfortable cuddled up with Rabbit on a wide, squishy couch that she didn’t ever want to move. But at the same time, there was a part of her that was buzzing with excitement and anticipation, telling her that something wonderful was coming, or had already arrived.
Snuggling in, she cracked an eyelid, and for a moment thought she was still dreaming, or that she’d gone back to college or something. That was the last time she’d awakened borderline hungover, to the sight of a battlefield of a living room strewn with empties, plates, cups, streamers and other unidentifiables—and, hello, was that a blow-up doll in the corner?—along with bodies of both sexes lying asleep in a variety of positions ranging from comfortable to “oh, hell, that’s gonna hurt when he wakes up.”
But as she came all the way back to consciousness, she recognized the bodies and the room, and knew this wasn’t college. It was Skywatch . . . and it was the Day After.
“Holy crap.” Her voice cracked. “We saved the world.”
“Yeah, we did, didn’t we?” Rabbit’s voice rumbled in her ear and his lips cruised the back of her neck. “And we capped it off with a hell of a party. Really wrecked this place.” His hand shifted from her hip to her stomach, where he spread his fingers and pressed, pulling her back against him so she could feel his morning wood through several layers of clothing. “Got a party going on in here, too.”
A laugh bubbled up. “Classy.”
“That’s me, baby. Classy, elegant and all yours.”
She turned in his arms, rearranged her legs to dovetail intimately with his, and grinned into his sleep- fuzzed, beautiful, beloved face. “Yeah, you are. And I’m not gonna let you forget it again.”
“Won’t happen.” His hand had migrated to her ass, and urged her close as his lips found her cheek, her ear. “I’m yours, Myr, and you’re mine.” And there was nothing sleep-fuzzed about the look in his eyes as he drew her in for a kiss that heated her blood and made her head spin in a very different way.
“Love you,” she whispered against his lips, not afraid to say it now. Not afraid to feel it.
“Love you back, Myr. Love you back.”
“Hey, you two, get a freaking room,” called a voice from the other side of the sofa, down by the vicinity of the floor. “Trying to slip into a coma here.”
Rabbit chuckled. “Sorry, Kev. Hey, that your doll over there?”
“Bite me.” But there was a laugh in the winikin’s party-roughened voice.
Heavy, shuffling footsteps sounded from the direction of the kitchen, and Strike called. “Coffee?”
“Are you asking if we want some or if we’ll make you some?” Rabbit retorted. “That would be ‘yes’ and ‘no’, respectively, by the way. Black for me, warmed-over coffee ice cream–style for Myr.”
“Lots of cream, lots of sugar. Got it.”
As the smell of brewing coffee spread across the great room, the bodies started coming back to life. Rabbit and Myrinne got vertical and cuddled on the couch, not in any real hurry to do anything, even make pancakes. Some of the partiers grogged off to their beds, while others wandered into the big kitchen and started rummaging for leftovers. Pretty soon, there were a couple of different breakfasts going and a buzz of conversation, heavy on the good-natured ribbing.
“Feels like Christmas morning a few days early,” Rabbit said. “Or pick the celebration of your choice. It’s that lull after the presents and before the big feast, you know?”
Myr just nodded, but along with the satisfaction of a job very well done and the deep, warm happiness of being there with him, and knowing they were together for good this time, came a quiet sort of sadness as she looked around the party-blasted great room, and beyond the glass sliders to the tarped-over pool. “Everything’s going to change now. Isn’t it?”
She had lived here with the Nightkeepers for almost three years. She had trained with them, fought with them, sometimes argued with them, and while she might not have appreciated all of them—or their rules—right off the bat, they had been far more of a family to her than she’d ever had before.
Rabbit’s arm tightened around her. “We’ll still see each other on the Cardinal Days.”
The mention brought another stab of regret. She almost didn’t want to try it, didn’t want to know, but she made herself cup her hand, palm up, and whisper, “Pasaj och.”
There was a faint lift beneath her heart, but there was no magic.
It was really gone.
“Not gone,” Rabbit said, as if he could still read her thoughts. He rubbed his roughened cheek on the top of her head. “It’ll still be there if we need it.”
“And different isn’t bad,” Strike said, setting down their coffees and taking the love seat opposite them with a gusty sigh. “It’s just different.”
“Being waited on by the former king,” Rabbit said, reaching forward to hand Myr her coffee and then snag his own sludge-black brew. “Now that’s different.”
Strike grinned. “I’d tell you to bite me, but it sounded like Kev got there first.”
“He’s just pissed that his little secret floated out last night.” Rabbit nodded in the direction of the blow-up doll, who was deep-throating a beer bottle.
They kept going like that, in an easy man-cave banter that flowed over Myr, smoothing the sharp edges and reminding her that this was why she didn’t party hard all that often—she got pretty damn melancholy when she was hungover.
“Look at it this way,” Rabbit said into her ear. “Things could be a hell of a lot worse.”
That startled a snort out of her. “Understatement of the year.” But she took a deep sip of her coffee, hoping
