Chapter Nine
Stealing from wealthy people in opera boxes was the most fun she’d had in ages.
They were wearing way too much jewelry, and none of them expected a fellow box holder to swipe it.
That made it even more fun to slip diamonds and jewels and Rolex watches and money out of purses and wallets when they weren’t looking.
By the end of the show, which she did not understand in the slightest but she adored the music nonetheless, she felt entirely revitalized.
“I knew you would enjoy it. She has taste, Graves.” Kingston preened as if Kierse was his apprentice and not Graves’s. It was easy to forget that Kingston was anything but what he seemed when he treated them so well. She kept having to remind herself to keep her guard up around him.
“We already knew that. She’s with me,” he said, slipping his arm around her waist as they headed down the uneven stone sidewalk.
Kierse teetered in the heeled black boots and a red cocktail dress that Madeline had graciously picked out for her. She’d even traded out her leather jacket for a white, knee-length wool coat that melded to her figure. She liked it enough she might take it home.
“You appear to be feeling better. So take us home,” Kingston said.
“What?” Kierse asked. “Me?”
“Yes. Open a portal to my residence. I can even give you access through the wards.”
“That’s miles away,” Kierse said. “We’re in Covent Garden.”
Kingston gestured forward for her to continue anyway.
Kierse frowned and pictured his house across town.
The museum inside his townhouse off of Hyde Park.
The hardwood floors and the paintings on the walls and the little chaise for Graves to read while they worked.
The lightness in the room. The laughter.
The fact that Graves wanted this for her enough that he had trusted someone else to train her.
“All right. I’ll try.”
“Don’t try. Do it,” Kingston said.
She felt the persuasion coming off him. It didn’t work on her, of course. But even though it didn’t work, she realized that he used it so often that he almost couldn’t help when he pushed. It was just there. It was maybe there for him before he even knew he was doing it. Like Kierse’s slow motion.
Kierse concentrated, pushing out her intent as she drew a doorway in the sidewalk. For a second, a flickering wavering light of gold appeared like a small doorway with a little gold handle.
She shrieked. “I did it.”
“The first part,” Kingston said with a smile. “Now, open the door and visualize where you’re headed.”
Kierse’s hand trembled as she reached for the doorknob. But when she tried to push it open, it all vanished into smoke. She deflated.
“That was a success,” Kingston said with a smile. “We’ll try more tomorrow.”
Then he sketched a door into his home, making it look far too easy. There was no space between him drawing the portal and then trying to open the door or focusing his intent to visualize where he was going. There was none of that. Just one minute a normal sidewalk and the next inside his house.
Graves held her back. “We’ll walk the Thames and meet you later.”
Kingston grinned. “Have fun, turtle doves.”
He stepped through, and the door vanished.
“Ugh. He makes it looks so easy.”
“He’s been doing it for hundreds of years,” Graves reminded her as they headed away from the opera house and down the uneven streets toward the Thames River.
“Yeah,” she said, tucking her arm into the crook of his elbow. “At least I’m making progress. Though I’m still surprised that you brought me here.”
He pulled her sideways through an entrance to the empty stone balcony of Somerset House. “I told you that if you gave me a chance that I would earn your trust. That I would change to be the person that you deserve. I’ve endeavored to do just that.”
“You have,” she told him as they settled against the wall. “You let me in the planning, you helped me with my memories, you brought in more people to help. I’m surprised by Kingston. You always acted like he would be upset if he found out what I was.”
“He would be. Kingston likes things one way. He’s lived long enough that he rejects change. The only thing that he really cares about are warlocks. So as long as he continues to believe you are one, then it’s like you’re inside an exclusive club.”
“Don’t you think we’re risking him finding out by training with him?”
“Yes, but without proof, he won’t act. I know him well enough for that.”
“What happens if he does? What if he finds out about Archie and has proof and comes for us?”
“Then we’ll deal with it.”
She bit her lip. She didn’t like this. Kingston was almost a calming presence. He was so easy to be around because he’d known Graves longer than almost anyone. The thought that he might come after them because of what she’d done scared her.
“We handled Archie. No one is going to find out what happened,” Graves said. “All right? We’re inventing worst-case scenarios here. Trust me.”
She released a breath and nodded. He was right. She had the weight of the world on her shoulders today. “I do trust you, Graves.”
Then he pulled her into him and captured her lips. The bond at her center dimmed even further. With the interference in their relationship the last couple months, she wanted to stay in London forever to escape it.
His lips dipped to her neck, and she groaned as her head fell backward.
“Do you have a place here anymore?”
“A few but none nearby,” he said against her throat.
She reached for the waistband of his trousers and tugged him hard against her. “If only I could portal.”
He chuckled as he brought his lips back to hers. “Could you be quiet?”
“I…”
Then his hand slipped under the hem of her red dress as he hiked up the layers of material. He dragged his fingers along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.
“Graves,” she hissed.
“Shh,” he breathed against her lips as he moved the fabric aside and slipped a finger down the seam of her center.
She gasped. “Just use your magic.”
After a moment, the world turned a brilliant gold as his magic worked to keep anyone from hearing them. “There. Are you happy?”
“Yes,” she moaned as he slipped a finger inside of her.
He met her lips again, and his tongue dove into her mouth. He tasted like the scotch he’d had at the opera.
While they had still been intimate in the months since the binding, it had been so oppressive that she had to actively concentrate on keeping Lorcan out of her head. It was the first time in so long that she felt like she could give in without inhibition.
Graves’s thumb swirled around her clit, and she shivered all over. She wanted more than this. So much more. She wanted to portal directly to a bed so that she could forget the rest of the world existed outside of this moment.
He curved his fingers inward at the top, and she gasped, dropping her head onto his shoulder.
“Graves, please…”
“Are you close for me?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Her fingers dug into his tuxedo jacket. She wanted all of him.
Not this distance that they both felt and tried to ignore but could never quite escape.
As if they could continue to go on like nothing happened and nothing had changed when their world had been turned upside down and every moment was a step away from shattering.
Still, her body knew his intimately. It wanted him with a ferocity that hadn’t diminished.
She cried out into his jacket as she came hard and fast. Like a swell hitting her head to toe. Her knees immediately gave way, and Graves caught her with a soft laugh.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he said, brushing her hair out of her face and sliding a finger down the point of her ear. “Post-orgasm bliss.”
She sighed and fell into his arms like they were dancing. “Can we stay like this forever?”
“Of course.”
“Here? In London?”
“I think we’ll have to go home, Wren.”
“Yeah,” she whispered, brushing her dress back down. “Okay.”
Graves’s face was pinched as if he knew precisely what she was thinking. Home meant Lorcan. Home meant the bond. Home meant this tension that lingered between them unsaid.
“But we have here tonight,” he promised.
She nodded with relief. They still had tonight. Because every day that she didn’t let Lorcan Flynn win reminded her that this was what she fought for.