She darted a glance his way and blew out slowly. “I suppose it is a doozy.”
Becka had survived, and thrived, though so many hardships. Being declared ungifted. Exile. Tesse’s death. And she knew she’d find a way to thrive at House Rowan too… somehow. Right?
Surely, she could just ask Quinn if he returned her affections? In this new territory, unsure of herself and lost in her thoughts, Becka faltered.
He frowned in her general direction, and then stood up. “I should be going. I’ll check in with you tomorrow on any new developments.”
“Wait.” She stood up, leaving the book on the divan. “You’re not going to stay with me this time?”
He raised a brow and walked towards the door, Becka following at his heels. “You have your shifter guards now, and I seriously doubt your mother would approve of an enforcer having unrestricted access to her heir.”
There was the sound of conversation at her door, and Quinn paused and stiffened.
“Don’t worry about my guards.”
He tucked away his notebook in his jacket. “No?”
Becka shrugged her shoulders. “I regularly bribe them with whiskey from the cellars.”
He shook his head. “Of course you do. Fair eve, Lady Becka.”
Quinn turned to go, and, not wanting to miss her opportunity, Becka sprang into action. She rushed toward him, and he turned to her, confusion knitting his brows. She threw her arms around his neck and captured his lips with her own, the near electric contact instantly radiating throughout her body.
Quinn stood so still Becka feared she’d overstepped. Then, he kissed her back, and for a few stolen moments she was lost in his touch. She pulled back, sucking in a breath between damp lips. Their eyes met again, a silent admission hanging in the air between them, frustration warring with anger in his eyes.
“Your awkward behavior now makes more sense,” he said, a sad wisp of a smile on his lips.
“I’m tired of not being able to have what I want,” she whispered.
The golden burnished sheen of his eyes flashed, and he regarded her a moment, as if seeing her in an entirely new light.
For a few moments of shared silence between them, the stresses of House Rowan, the poisoning, and even the lurking Shadow-Dwellers all faded away, replaced with the pounding of her heartbeat, the feel of him pressed against her, and a tingling that suffused her entire being.
“As much as I wish things were otherwise,” Quinn reached up to disentangle her arms from around his neck, “this is a complication neither one of us can afford.”
She shrugged, refusing to let go. “In fairness, my entire life has been complicated for a while now.”
“But this… complication of ours… has a lot of reasons it can’t happen.”
She opened her mouth to respond and then snapped it shut. She let out a groan. “I told you, I’m working on a fix for that.”
“I’m sure you are, but you’re back in the world of the fae. You can no longer make up your own rules.”
She didn’t entirely know what she’d started, but it felt true to herself, and she’d done too little of that lately, even if Quinn was upset with her.
Just then, her door flew open and Duchess Maura stomped into the room, her lips already pursed in disapproval, and an icy glint in her gaze that promised there would be a reckoning.
Quinn roughly pushed Becka away, a flash of anger in his eyes which was squarely directed at her as he turned towards Maura.
Chapter 7
Becka’s shifter guards peeked into the room briefly, took in the scene, but then wisely withdrew. Becka had the impression Maura’s appraising gaze could see straight through her.
“I would ask what’s going on here,” Maura said, her fiery stare flitting back and forth between Becka and Quinn. “But I can see well enough with my own eyes.”
“Duchess,” Quinn said, with a perfunctory bow. “I was questioning Becka on the poisoning and was just now leaving.”
She turned to Quinn. Maura looked like she hadn’t slept in days, and considering the circumstances, she might not have. “I expect you have all the information you need?”
Quinn gave a single nod.
“I will make sure to reach out to Chief Elowen and mention the attention you’ve devoted to this case.”
Becka could almost hear Quinn’s clenched jaw pop. “I’d thank you to do so,” he replied.
Becka could only imagine what Maura planned to say to Quinn’s boss. Will he still have a job when Maura is done? Oh no, will she get him removed from the case?
“Move along, then,” Maura snapped, motioning Quinn towards the door. “And close the door after you.”
He cast a single glowering glance back Becka’s way, seeming to say this is why things are impossible between us, then he turned and strode out the door, closing it behind him.
“It seems my flawless timing is on point,” Maura said. “Why don’t you have a seat? I have a few things on my mind, and I would hate to tire you out.”
Considering her worn appearance, Maura was one to talk. Deflated, Becka walked back over to the divan and slumped down onto it.
Maura sat down across from her on the chair Quinn had been using. Instead of lighting directly into the lecture Becka knew was coming, Maura took a few deep breaths.
Becka hoped Maura was composing herself instead of gearing up. The heated flush across Maura’s cheeks was something Becka hadn’t seen the likes of before. Maura always kept her wits about her, the epitome of fae control.
Becka had a sense that Maura’s finely honed exterior was teetering on the edge of a precipice. If there’d been a day to piss off her mother, this was not it.
“I came here to discuss family business with you,” Maura said, her voice measured and controlled. “But instead, I must express how profoundly upset and disappointed I am with you.”
“Maura…”
“It would be unwise to interrupt me, daughter,” Maura said, cutting her off, and Becka
