good.”
She blinked away unshed tears. “It just feels like forever since things were normal.”
He moved behind the counter. “Speaking of normal, one of the shelter workers came around with your phone.”
Fishing it out of a drawer, he handed it to her as Jamaal went back to his workstation. Longing swelling with the hum of his machine, creating a hollow emptiness at the prospect of losing this. Somehow she had to find a way to keep this as part of her life and make it safe for everyone.
Even if it meant servitude?
A glance down at inked wrists, and the sigil shimmered in her mind as if already on her skin and entwined with the bands her mother had done. She blinked, clearing the mark from her sight before powering up the cellphone.
Her mother’s mantra. Her mother’s life.
No longer applicable.
It would take hours to return all the calls from people who’d heard about the drive-by in front of the shelter. The concern humbled her. It firmed her resolve to stay part of this human world in a way that mattered.
Slipping the phone into her pocket she turned just as Derrick breezed in. “Yummy! You’ve got Mr. Edible with you along with that luscious, tasty morsel you call a boyfriend.”
“A permanent mate,” Eamon murmured, his amusement making her smile.
“You don’t know the half of it,” she told Derrick.
He grinned, hugging her and whispering, “I can hardly wait for a blow-by-blow description.”
With emphasis on
His mouth formed a pout against her cheek. “Spoilsport.”
She felt carefree despite the slide of fire down her arms and with it the sharp awareness of the connection between her and the Dragon. “The details would make you green with envy.”
“Maybe in the past, but not now. I
She couldn’t stop herself from asking, “He’s okay?”
“Better than okay.” The purr said it all, but as the moment stretched, her easy happiness fled when there was no sibilant offering of
Worry tightened her chest, and though she suspected Eamon would consider her foolish for attempting it, she reached out mentally, seeking the Dragon, seeking reassurance and gaining nothing except a penetrating dread, a dark foreboding that Derrick might be used against her, or worse, that she might cause him harm.
She eased out of the hug, feeling both haunted and hunted, not daring to risk more touch of skin to skin.
Eamon watched the play of emotions over Etain’s face, from happiness and joy to something that tugged at his heart, opening a crack in his resolve to separate her completely from the human world. For the first time since standing on the other side of the window and being horrified by the reality of how she used her gift, he considered that there might be room for compromise, that if he cut her off from this place and these people, ripping her away from what she loved, bitterness would find its way into their relationship.
Eventually they would all have to leave San Francisco, including those humans made part of their world because of ties to Cathal and Etain. Glamour only went so far when it came to hiding the lack of aging. Nor was it easy for those who no longer measured their lives in decades to remain in a place where the people they had interacted with for years grew old and died while they didn’t.
The door to the shop opened and a well-dressed man of Hispanic descent rushed toward Etain and was immediately blocked by Myk.
The human laughed, leaning to the side to see Etain. “Bodyguards or cops in plainclothes?”
“Bodyguards.” She gave a small sigh. “Francisco is a client, Myk. Please let him pass.”
Eamon didn’t counter the command.
Francisco hugged her as all of them had. “I caught a glimpse of you from my office. Do you have time to add the name to my tat?”
“Kiss of death to the relationship,” Jamaal called from the work area. “Unless you’re putting family on your skin.”
Derrick sniffed. “Ridiculous superstition. Don’t listen to him.”
Jamaal shook his head. “You so sure about that? Last I counted, Bryce has covered three names since he hired you, and I’m betting any day now you’re going to be begging either me or Etain to hide that last loser’s name.”
“Those where bad choices. I’m a different man now.”
“Uh-huh.” Jamaal leaned forward to concentrate on detail work along his client’s shoulder.
“You have time?” Francisco asked Etain again.
“Okay if Derrick does it instead? His lettering is better than mine.”
“Sure. That’s okay if he’s willing.”
Derrick motioned toward one of the workstations. “Come on back. Let me see what you’ve already got on you and hear what you’re thinking.”
Pleasure flooded Eamon at the choice she’d made. He pulled her into his arms, the sense of completeness he felt when he held her growing stronger.
He claimed her lips in tenderness, his tongue a slow glide and thrust, a sensuous taking reminiscent of lovemaking rather than the carnal pounding of heated sex. When she moaned softly, pelvis grinding to his, their surroundings forgotten, he left her mouth in favor of her ear, marking his effect on her by the race of her heartbeat against his chest.
Her hands burned through his shirt where they played at the base of his spine, her touch and nearness enough to keep him hard and anxious to be inside her.
“You restrained yourself,” she murmured, acknowledging his lack of interference with the flick of her tongue against his earlobe.
She might as well have captured his cock in a welcoming fist.
“I’m restraining myself now.”
She laughed, the heat of it across his ear sending a shiver of pleasure through him.
“When you’re like this, instead of doing your lord-of-all-you-see thing, it makes me believe this will work.”
He cupped her cheek, tenderness welling up inside him. “Tattoo me as you have Cathal.”
Without needing to glance at them, he sensed Liam and Myk’s immediate resistance to the idea, though it was Liam who voiced it. “Is that wise, Lord?”
Was it wise? The question could only be answered honestly in retrospect.
Taking her ink was a calculated risk, but he believed he could keep himself safe. She didn’t yet know how to push magic into the ink, to forge the bond as he’d done in her stead when it came to Cathal. And his protections had held. There’d been no sense of threat since that first violent plundering and pull of magic.
“Tattoo me as you have Cathal,” he repeated, ducking his head to nuzzle along the length of her neck.
The design was there in Etain’s mind, identical to Cathal’s except in color and location, and she shivered, unsure whether the emotion surging through her was anticipation or trepidation. “Are you asking me? Or calling in the promise Cathal made on my behalf?”
His lips returned to hers in a slow trail of kisses that had her head tilting backward in order to give him greater, deeper access. “I’m asking.” Though the thrust of his tongue and hard press of his lips were hungry and demanding, pouring liquid fire into her belly to sink lower and become the slick evidence of desire.
“Somebody open the damn door, it’s getting to be a sauna in here,” Jamaal yelled, making Etain laugh and end the kiss.
“Oh no, no, no,” Derrick said, and she could see him fanning himself at his workstation. “I for one am enjoying myself.”
Bryce made a motion toward the privacy screens. “The shop isn’t licensed for porn. You want to take this out of sight?”
