A niggling of worry tickled my chest about Hawke finding out that Natalie and Cooper were friends with benefits now—or more than just “friends,” judging by the hungry way Cooper had watched Natalie in the kitchen when her focus was elsewhere. The detective probably fixed on a woman he wanted in his bed the same as he did on an unsolved murder case, hell-bent to spend day and night analyzing details about her from head to toe until he figured out every one of her secrets. The question was, would he grow tired of Natalie after the mystery was solved?
My reflection took on a gunslinger glare at that question. With toothpaste on my lips, my multitude of bruises, and the rioting hair spirals sticking up here and there, I could have given the real Outlaw Curly Bill a run for his money. I spit out the toothpaste and rinsed, then uncapped the mouthwash. Cooper had better not break my best friend’s heart. I’d hate to have to drag his sorry ass down into that Hellhole and leave him there.
After a few minutes of chemically burning every single living microbe off of my tongue, I shut off the lights, checked on the kids once more, and then headed for bed.
My bedroom was full of shadows. Light from the half moon shined through my gauzy curtains, leaving fuzzy streaks of silver on the wood floor and end of the bed. I shut and locked the door behind me, wanting to block out the world and its monsters—both human and beast—for a while.
Slipping off my robe, I crawled under the covers next to Doc, who was lying on his back. His breathing was slow and steady, but I could tell he wasn’t asleep when I cozied up to him because his muscles were still tense. His skin was nice and warm, though. I snuggled even closer and rubbed my cold nose on his shoulder. His skin smelled like the sweet orange and vanilla–scented shower soap that Aunt Zoe had given him for Christmas. I wanted to eat him up, but I refrained, wanting to clear the air on what was bothering him.
He glanced my way, his dark eyes reflecting the soft glow of moonlight. “You’re not going to touch me with those icy feet, are you?” he asked, his voice low even though we were alone with a locked oak door between us and any eavesdropping little ears.
I rested my chin on his shoulder. “For your information, big baby, I’m wearing the cashmere socks you gave me for Christmas.” I ran my foot over his shin, showing him how warm it was.
He chuckled, catching my leg at the knee and holding onto it.
“Where were you this afternoon when I left you the voice mail about the Hellhole door being open?” I asked.
“I ran over to Sturgis to get some parts for the Picklemobile.”
That sounded so nice and normal. For several seconds, we lay there in the quiet while he stroked my thigh, just breathing and touching.
I was the first to break the silence. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He sighed. “Not really, but I suppose we should.”
I caressed his chest, circling my nails over his skin. “What did I do wrong?”
He turned to me, his brow pinched. “What makes you think you did anything wrong?”
“Because I wasn’t supposed to go down in that Hellhole, but that was exactly where I landed without a way to escape.”
“I don’t think that was your doing.”
I shifted, leaning on my elbow so I could see his face better. “You think the lidérc had something to do with that?”
“Yes, somehow, and that’s worrisome enough. What bothers me more, though, is how it controlled your surroundings once it had you where it wanted you—sealing the trapdoor closed, blowing out the candle, providing the carbide lamp, and opening the Hellhole’s grate.” He dragged his fingers down over my knee and along the outside of my calf. “It’s like a mix of materialization, illusion, apportation, clairaudience, reciprocal apparition, remote view—”
“Stop,” I said, putting my finger over his lips. “You’re coming at this like the lidérc is human. We’re dealing with a supernatural being here. Paranormal 101 rules don’t apply.”
He pulled my finger down. “What about you?”
I frowned. “What about me?”
“You were a hot mess of paranormal powers down there, too.” He held up my hand and started ticking off my fingers. “Remote viewing, materialization, psychokinesis, ESP, and pyrokinesis when you threw that ball of fire right before I slammed the door.” He laid my hand back down on his chest. “And that’s only naming a few. There were some things for which I’m not even sure Cornelius or I have names.”
“Yeah, well, I was just fumbling around in there, trying to get out of the place alive.”
“Which you did, proving your ability to think and not panic in dire situations.”
“I only made it out because you showed up and opened that door.” And then he closed it, sealing me away from the devil and its motley crew. I drew a heart over his matching organ, deciding it was time to tell him one part of the story I’d withheld earlier. “I’m pretty sure the lidérc picked up on you being there.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Right before I ran toward the stairwell door, Jane—well, the lidérc version of her—sniffed the air and said something about me bringing my mate along to play.” I trailed my fingers over his shoulder and down his left arm, matching my hand to his, palm to palm. “Remember how Mr. Black said
