Derek’s fire smoldered, but he pulled back. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
Humor expanded in her chest. “Are you asking because shit always gets worse or because I’m being the mood killer?”
“You’re not killing the mood, doll.” His gaze lingered on her lips. His hand slid around to cup the nape of her neck. The simple, possessive act pushed all tension from her back. “You wouldn’t be willing to stay here if there weren’t more. I’ll keep fighting here with you as long as you want, but now would be a good time to let me in.”
He so rarely pushed that Callie couldn’t be bothered by the request. It was fair for him to want to know why. She hadn’t demanded he align himself with her, but that didn’t change the fact he had. He’d helped her saved Zara. He’d helped her save Josh. He’d helped her. Derek was damn near family, and it was time she started trusting him like it.
“The souls back here?” She pointed toward the curtain like he didn’t know where the fucking souls were stored. “What’s left are the good ones.”
Derek watched her. Waited. She bit her lip, and he inhaled sharply. “Why did you send Miguel and Savannah to pick up the good ones then?”
He said it so plainly. “I did send them, didn’t I?” She no longer had to hide her awe.
Derek’s lips found hers again, and this time she let herself fall into the moment. The air between them sparked with potential. Callie leaned into the static between them until her breasts were crushed against Derek’s chest. It was her turn to be soft and pliant against his hard and sturdy. Everything she needed. She deepened the kiss. Derek dug his fingers into her hair. She stepped backward, and pulled him along.
Her butt bumped against a sideboard table. It was an inch over hip height, and Derek easily lifted Callie to sit atop it. The dark wood disappeared in the minimal lighting, and Callie with it. Her knees fell wide, and Derek rushed forward between them. The dual layers of denim between them failed to hide how much they needed this. Derek pressed the hard ridge hidden behind his jeans against Callie. She gasped, and arched forward. Her mouth slipped down his neck until she was almost to his shoulder. Sweat shouldn’t be this sweet. It was. He was. Derek surged forward. The sideboard clapped against the wall. Every nerve ending low in Callie’s abdomen fired, tightened, demanded at once. She bit down on Derek’s shoulder. His groan could have shaken the snow from the mountains.
Callie shoved her hands between them. She began to unfasten her jeans, but Derek’s fist in her hair stalled her. She flipped direction and began to unbutton his pants. He angled his hips forward until she could barely move her hands. She nudged him back, but he refused to budge.
His lips left hers, but he held her hair wrapped between his fingers. “That’s a cheat, Callie.”
“What?” She wanted him. How was that a fucking cheat?
His chest rose and fell in double time. He shouldn’t have been wearing a shirt. “You’re dodging my question. Please.”
Fuck. She needed to give him the truth, and instead she was thinking with her heart—and maybe her lady bits. The realization of her accidental asshole move was as good as ice cubes down her back.
“Sorry. Not intentional.” She hadn’t even meant to divert. Maybe that was a Delgado gene.
“So why are they after the good souls?” He didn’t even sound disappointed with her. She was too fucking lucky.
“‘Good souls’ is relative, but I wasn’t lying that we need those. If these Anonymous people take the high-value ones the Charmer will go apocalyptic.”
He waited. Maybe lucky was the wrong word. That bastard knew her too well.
The hem of his shirt had ridden up during the momentary make-out session. Callie rested her hand against the smooth skin at his hip. He let her, and the access reminded her they were a team. “The case back there that was empty held the heavily used souls.”
Derek’s grip on her hair released. “How much is heavy? The Charmer said it’s ten rentals max.”
“Over twenty.” Ish.
“That could kill someone,” he snapped. Derek’s eyes were wide, panicked. Callie brushed her thumb against his skin in slow circles. She wasn’t the one who was dealing those souls, and he needed to remember that. A breath later he was steadier. “You saw what happens with a bad match.”
He didn’t have to remind her of the trip to the hospital. The rented soul needed an escape, and it thought taking out its host would get it there. Now that Callie understood some of the shop’s souls came from purgatory she understood. Maybe the fight wasn’t worth the get for some.
“I remember.” She pressed her index finger against his lips. It wouldn’t hold back the details, but he understood. “The Soul Charmer warned me about those souls specifically.”
“Do you think he knew someone was after them?” he said against her finger, a breathy kiss.
“I hadn’t considered that.” Honestly. “It was more like he was batting my hands away from a hot stove.”
His eyes softened.
“Okay. Yes, he probably would let me touch a hot stove, but the analogy stands. He was warning me not to bring those out for renters. They were only for specific people.”
“People he wanted to kill?” Derek asked the question Callie could only think.
“He didn’t say that.” But would he?
Derek eased back. The space between them growing, but never cooling. “Do we think they were stolen on purpose?”
“I’m not sure it matters. If they knew they were buying the most tarnished goods, then they’re out to kill people. If they thought they were crashing and pocketing whatever they could reach, they won’t know enough about the magic to avoid damage anyway. One way or another the idiots who rent from us are going to get hurt. Those souls won’t be enough to pick up the slack. Either they
