Devon Monk - Hell Bent

Now the well was still hidden, but it didn’t matter. People could tap in to it and magic wouldn’t do anything dangerous. So the whole “here’s our happy home, which also happens to be sitting on a time bomb” atmosphere of the place was gone.

Honestly? I missed it.

I wove through tables, winked at the pretty blond waitress, who was definitely jailbait, and then headed up to the room I’d been in since Mum had kicked me out of the house proper.

Up a flight of stairs, dragged the bat behind me down the hall.

I paused outside my door. My Shamus senses were tingling.

Something was wrong with the door. For one thing, it was unlocked and wide open. Sure, I’d left the place drugged out of my brain, but someone would have shut it.

Interesting.

I tucked Eleanor’s statue under my arm and lifted the baseball bat, resting it above my shoulder.

Walked into the room.

Room looked like my room. Couch covered in clothes and a few books I hadn’t reshelved. Small kitchen area clean because who in their right mind would cook when they had an entire restaurant at their feet? Bedroom door cracked open.

That wasn’t right.

Eleanor whisked past me and through the door into the bedroom. She came out and shook her head. Mouthed a word I couldn’t quite make out.

What? I mouthed.

She said the word again. Rolled her eyes. Walked up to me and held out one finger. I took one hand off the bat and turned my palm up for her.

In icy strokes, she spelled out: D-E-S-S-A.

And if it was Dessa in there, she probably already knew I was in the room.

“I know you’re in the room,” she said. “Why don’t you come on in?”

“Do you have a weapon?”

“Oh, sure. But I promise to keep my hands off my guns this time. That is, if you play nice.”

I didn’t put down the bat. But I did leave the statue on the side table before pushing the bedroom door open the rest of the way.

Dessa was sitting on the edge of my bed. Fully clothed, which was, I’ll admit, a little disappointing. The bed was made, and after I pulled my gaze off her to the room, I noticed she had folded my clothes, set them on the two chairs in the room, and had thrown away all the food wrappers and beer bottles.

“I didn’t peg you as the domestic type,” I said.

“I didn’t think you were into sports.” She pointed at the bat.

I grinned, rested the bat next to the door. “So . . . you clean?”

She shrugged and looked down at her hands for a moment before looking back up at me. “I’ve thought about what I said today. When I told you I wanted to do this alone. I’ve changed my mind.”

“You’re making nice so I’ll let you in on finding your brother’s killer, aren’t you?”

“You already told me you’d do that. This is just me making nice.”

“A little pleasure before business?” I asked.

“A little pleasure.” She held my gaze. “Maybe we don’t need business right now.”

Huh. I nodded.

“Why did you drop me off at Terric’s last night?” I asked.

“He’s your friend, right?”

“Sometimes.”

“He’s more than that too. Life magic?”

“Yes.”

“Was I wrong to do it?”

“No. But I wish you would have stayed. I’ve spent half the day looking for you. Worrying.”

“And here I was, in your bedroom all along.”

“And here you are. So. What’s this really all about?” I waved my hand at my semiclean room.

“I told you. An apology.”

“Because . . . ?”

She quirked a smile and tipped her head to one side. “Can you seriously not just take me at face value? Must you question everything I do?”

“It’s a failing, my terrible, terrible curiosity.”

“I got your attention, didn’t I?”

“Is that what you wanted? My attention? Because you already had that.”

Her heartbeat was steady, but strong. She licked her lips and the blush that bloomed against her pale skin gave her away. That wasn’t fear she was feeling.

She wanted me. Wanted us.

Why had I not slept with her? Sure, there was the whole drugging and kidnapping and bondage, but I liked a girl who knew what she wanted and went after it.

“I want more than your attention,” she said softly.

“Tell me you’re not going to follow that up by pulling a gun on me.” I took a step toward her. Unzipped my hoodie, tossed it on the floor.

She stood. “I said this wasn’t about business.”

“True.” I didn’t walk any closer. Waited to see what she’d do.

“Why haven’t you asked me where I thought Eli was?” she asked.

“Is that your sexy talk? Because it doesn’t sound like sexy talk. It sounds like business talk. I thought you didn’t want to mix those.”

“I could.” A slight smile curved her mouth.

“Go on, then.”

“Why”—her finger slipped to the first button on her blouse and she slowly pushed it through the hole. Her shirt opened a bit, revealing skin—“haven’t you”—fingers pinched the second button, flicked it through the hole to show just the edge of breast and bra—“asked me about”—she ran her fingertip around the third button, the one that strained to hold the fabric together between her breasts. She didn’t unbutton it—“Eli?”

“I don’t care about him,” I said, advancing on her. “Not right now. Not here.”

My heart was pounding hard, heat firing across my body, drawing me awake, alert. She wasn’t backing away, wasn’t backing down. Just stood there, her hands resting on her hips, watching me. Wanting me.

“What do you want?” she whispered.

I reached out and for the first time, touched her hair—silken fire through my fingers—drawing it gently away from her face.

I stroked my thumb along the corner of her lip, up her cheek, then down to pause at the pulse point on her neck, pressing there just hard enough that I could feel the thump of her heart.

She closed her eyes at my touch, her lips parting as she inhaled.

“I want you.”

“You don’t even know me,” she said with a hitch in her breath.

“I could.” I slipped my hand to her waist, fingers angled down to her ass. “If you want me to.”

She opened her eyes, looked up at me. And the hope there, the doubt there, made me hold very still. Waiting.

“I want you to.”

I exhaled and my heart began beating again. “Look at that,” I said softly as I leaned over her. “We agreed on something. It’s a miracle.”

“You should stop talking and kiss—”

She didn’t have a chance to finish that. I drew her against me, all the soft heat and curves of her body. Pushed my fingers up into her hair, my rings muffled by the weight of her curls.

I lowered my head and caught her lips with mine, gentle, slow, teasing. I wanted to savor every sweet texture, every pulse beat that made her. Then I wanted to find out what would unmake her.

She kissed me back, her lips soft, her tongue asking for entrance I willingly gave, then stroking deliciously against mine. She matched my lead, taking it slow, until the hesitancy finally melted out of her muscles and she softened, her arms wrapping around my neck. She stepped into me, her hips against mine.

A pulse of need burned through my bones and made every muscle in my body hard.

I slid my hand down her back, spreading my fingers wide so I could press her closer. Her hands were busy too.

She tugged at my sweater, her hand sliding beneath it only to find my T-shirt. She made a soft moan of disappointment, and I couldn’t help smiling a little.

I drew away from the wonder of her lips. “Problem, love?” I dipped my head again, kissed instead the side of her neck, the heat of my lips against her pulse causing her to gasp, the scent of her filling me with an aching hunger.