Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
“They’ve already tried to get it back,” I said evenly. “They failed.”
He raised his eyebrows. “The man mountain you ran into?”
I nodded. “Two of them ransacked our apartment.”
“You need to move out of that apartment. They will hit you again, and again, until they get it.”
“We are protected—”
“Not against these people, you’re not.”
I frowned. “If they would go to such lengths to retrieve it, I take it my guess was right, and we can use it to trace the location of the mage or sorcerer who used them.”
“If it holds enough resonance, yes. And had you placed it into evidence, it would likely have already disappeared by now.”
“The Society have the best protections available.”
“And the Libertine have the best countermeasures, including spies within all organizations.”
“Has Sophie suggested there are spies up here in Brisbane?”
“No, but we cannot discount the possibility.”
I studied him for several seconds. “Can you trace said resonance?”
“Yes.” He hesitated. “Though in this case, it would be better if I didn’t.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“Because, as I said, I sometimes walk in the shadows, and there are those who would recognize the reverberation of my presence. It could possibly warn them that we are on their trail.”
Which was the truth, as far as it went, but I couldn’t help but think there was another, more personal reason involved, one that had something to do with the darkness that haunted him whenever he mentioned his father. “But you can recommend someone who could run a trace in your place?”
“Yes.”
“Then that is what we will do after dinner.”
A smile teased his lips, briefly lifting the shadows from his expression. “I must admit that is not what I’d hoped we’d be doing after we finished dinner.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t ‘dance’ on the first date. Not that this is one, of course.”
“Of course,” he agreed with lazy amusement. “What of the second?”
“No.”
“Third?”
“Unlikely.”
“Ah. Well, I do like a good challenge.”
And I definitely did not have the stamina to resist his advances for too long if he chased with intent.
“However,” he continued, “it would be best if we conducted such a hunt in morning’s light. For the most part, mages and dark witches go about their business during the night and sleep during the day. It will be safer to track him or her down while they slumber.”
“Will the shard be safe where it is until the morning?”
He hesitated. “You have wards around the apartment and a secondary means of escape?”
“Yes, and yes.” Even if it was through a window.
“Then it should be fine. But please do move from your current location tomorrow, and do not tell Lowell. I shall inform Sophie of the change and the reason for it.”
“When you report back to her tonight,” I said dryly. “Tell me, what would you have done if I had felt inclined to dance?”
The heat flared in his eyes, briefly consuming the stars. “Danced until we were both well satiated and then contacted her while you slept.”
I hadn’t been satiated in so damn long I’d forgotten what it felt like. “You don’t need to sleep?”
“At night?” He half shrugged. “I rarely do so. A bad habit I gained from my father, who conducted a lot of business in the evenings.”
Suggesting his father might have had just as many dealings with dark witches and mages as he had royal witches. I couldn’t help but wonder if he—or rather, his company—still did.
“What did you mean, exactly, when you said the Libertine are the Society’s dark counterpart?”
“Just that—whereas the Society seeks to bring justice to the world via any means possible, the Libertine wish chaos and destruction via any means possible.”
I frowned. “Why have I never heard of them, then?”
“Few have, beyond me, Sophie, your brother, and the board, although Michael is currently unaware of my presence in the hunt.”
“How do the Libertine remain secret if they cause so much damage?”
“How has the Society’s board managed to keep their identities secret?
There are ways and means of ensuring no information leaks.
Some of them are even legal.” He resized the image and handed me the phone.
“Sophie may well suggest a more secure location for you and Ginny when I talk to her tonight. I will text you if that is the case.”
I nodded but didn’t immediately reply because our desserts arrived. The service in this place was damnably impressive. “So, we track the shard tomorrow? Together, I mean.”
“Yes. I will send the location address in the morn.”
“You’re not going to pick me up? How ungentlemanly.”
Lazy amusement touched his expression. “Do you want me to? I was thinking you’d prefer your own car so that you could escape me if necessary.”
“That was when I thought you might be a bad guy.”
“Ah, well. I’m always happy to pick up a pretty girl.”
“And you no doubt pick up plenty.”
The lazy amusement increased. “Given you will undoubtedly google me once you are home and alone, I will not deny that I have something of a reputation along those lines.”
Not married, then... although marriage never stopped anyone from playing away.
That had never been a problem in my own marriage, or even my parents’, but I’d seen plenty of it over the years growing up.
Many men and women within the royal lines were nothing if not indulgent when it came to sex and attraction.
“While it is common practice to google someone these days,” I replied. “It generally happens before rather than after.”
“Well, at least you will be familiar with all the gossip surrounding me on our next date.”
“This is not a date,” I repeated, amused. “And no dating will happen until this case is finished.”
His eyebrows rose, the stars dancing again. “Why on earth not?”
“This.” I waved a hand up and down his length. “Is far too distracting in a work environment.”
“I find that rather illogical.”
“I am nothing if not illogical.”
He laughed, the warm sound singing across the waves of conversation, briefly dimming it. “I am going to enjoy pursuing you, dear Hanna.” He picked up his glass and raised it. “Here’s to our relationship being an interesting one, for however long it lasts.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I said, and lightly tapped my water glass against his.
The conversation moved on from there. We discussed all manner of things, from movies to politics, the conversation never going too deep and yet never straying into being boring.
Before I knew it, the waiter was giving us the side-eye to leave, and most of the other patrons had already done so.
I insisted on paying for my share, which he allowed with some reluctance and only when I declared it was a business expense.
Once the waiter returned with the receipt, I tucked it into my handbag, slipped from the booth, and led the way from the restaurant, every small hair on my body standing on end in response to the sheer force of sexual energy suddenly washing from the man behind me.
The night had indeed cooled, though I was anything but cold. I couldn’t be. Not in the presence of this man. I stopped and slung my handbag over my shoulders, then clasped my hands to stop myself from reaching for him. Because I really did want to.
“I’m parked just across the road,” I said. “What time are we meeting tomorrow?”
“If my contact agrees to see us, then around nine fifteen, as she rarely gets up before nine.”
Another “she.” Did he not have any male contacts?
Which was a really bad omen for just how badly I wasn’t in control when it came to this man.
But then, how could I be, given the waves of heat that continued to roll from him?
The urge to run was definitely in place, but it was almost swamped by the desire to swim into that ocean and simply drown.
I licked my lips, saw his gaze follow it, felt the waves become a blast furnace, and took a hasty step back. “I’ll see you on the morrow, then.”
He didn’t reply, but as I stepped around him, he caught my arm, his touch sliding lightly down to my fingers, leaving a burning trail in its wake and setting the rest of me alight.
His gaze held mine, intent and passionate, and deep down, fires burned to life, fires that I hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
Slowly, deliberately, he raised my hand to his lips and kissed my fingers. It was little more than a brush of lips, but it caused a tidal wave of chaos and desire. In that moment, he could have taken me, and I wouldn’t have cared.
And he knew it, damn him.
Without releasing my hand, he took a step forward, then leaned close and whispered, his warm breath brushing the tip of my ear, “You, my dear Hanna, are utterly divine, but the next time you wear a dress like that, I will rip it from your body and seduce the fuck out of you.”
With that, he stepped back and, with a nod, turned and left.
Leaving me a weak puddle of raging hormones that barely even made it to my car. How I ever managed to concentrate enough to drive home, I have no idea.
By the time I’d parked in my usual spot in the next street, the inner flames of desire had at least cooled, and some semblance of normality had returned. I locked the car, draped the wrap around my shoulders to ward off the night air, then walked briskly along the footpath to our apartment.
Only to discover a wretched black cat with a half-torn ear and a mangy tail sitting outside the apartment’s door.
Atticus.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Pleased to see you, too, he replied, his posh English tone filled with sarcasm.
I was never sure if that tone was real or not. While he’d claimed multiple times that, before he’d passed and become a familiar, he’d been a lord and the owner of a vast estate in England, he utterly ignored any question involving the name or location of said estate.
“I told you I didn’t need your help.”
And I disagreed. So too did the fates.
“You are many things, Atticus, but you are not a prophet, and you certainly do not talk to the gods. That is beyond even your skill set.”
You have no true idea of my skill set or the vastness of it.