Ким Харрисон - Every Witch Way But Dead

Kisten was alone. He was hurting. He was being honest with me—I couldn't walk away. We had both done questionable things, and I couldn't label him as evil when I was the one with the demon mark. Circumstances had made our choices for us. I did the best I could. So did he.

"It wasn't your fault they died," I said again, feeling as if I had found a new way to see. Before me lay the same world, but I was looking around corners. What was I becoming? Was I a fool to trust, or a wiser person finding the capacity to forgive?

Kisten heard the acceptance of his past in my voice, and the relief reflected in his face was so strong that it was almost painful. My hand on his neck slid forward, drawing him closer over the console. "It's okay," I whispered as his hands slipped from my fingers and took my shoulders. "I understand."

"I don't think you can…." he insisted.

"Then we'll deal with it when I do." Tilting my head, I closed my eyes and leaned to find him. His grip on my shoulder eased, and I found myself reaching after him, drawn in as our lips touched. My fingers pressed into his neck, urging him closer. A jolt struck through me, bringing my blood to the surface, tingling through me as his kiss deepened, promising more. It didn't stem from my scar, and I drew his hand to it, almost gasping when his fingertips traced the light, almost unseen scar tissue. The thought of Ivy's dating guide flitted through me, and I saw it all in an entirely new way. Oh God, the things I could do with this man.

Maybe I needed the dangerous man, I thought as a wild emotion rose in me. Only someone who had done wrong could understand that, yes, I did questionable things too, but that I was still a good person. If Kisten could be both, then maybe that meant I could be, too.

And with that, I abandoned all pretense of thought. His hand feeling my pulse and my lips pulling on his, I sent my tongue hesitantly between his lips, knowing a gentle inquiry would strike a hotter chord than a demanding touch. I found a smooth tooth, and I curled my tongue around it, teasing.

Kisten's breath came fast and he jerked away.

I froze as he was suddenly not there, the heat of him still a memory on my skin. "I'm not wearing my caps," he said, the black swelling in his eyes and my scar pulsing in promise. "I was so worried about you, I didn't take the time to…I'm not…" He took a shaking breath. "God, you smell good."

Heart pounding, I forced myself back into my seat, watching him as I tucked my hair behind an ear. I wasn't sure I cared if he had his caps on or not. "Sorry," I said breathlessly, blood still pounding through me. "I didn't mean to go that far." But you just sort of pull it out of me.

"Don't be sorry. You're not the one who's been neglecting—things." Blowing his breath out, Kisten tried to hide his heady look of want. Under the rougher emotions was a soft look of grateful understanding and relief. I had accepted his ugly past, knowing his future might not be any better.

Saying nothing, he put the car in first and accelerated. I held the door until we slid back onto the road, glad nothing had changed though everything was different.

"Why are you so good to me?" he said softly as we picked up speed and passed a car.

Because I think I could love you? I thought, but I couldn't say it yet.

My head came up at the faint sound of knocking. Giving me a warning look, Ivy stood, stretching for the kitchen's ceiling. "I'll get it," she said. "It's probably more flowers."

I took a bite of cinnamon toast and muttered around my full mouth, "If it's food, bring it back, will you?"

Sighing, Ivy walked out, both sexy and casual in her black exercise tights and a thigh-length baggy sweater. The radio was on in the living room, and I had mixed feelings about the announcer talking about the tragedy of the boat explosion early last night. They even had a clip of Trent telling everyone I had died saving his life.

This was really odd, I thought as I wiped butter from my fingers. Things had been showing up on our doorstep. It was nice to know I would be missed, and I hadn't known I had touched so many lives. It wasn't going to be pretty when I came out of the closet as being alive, though—kind of like standing someone up at the altar and having to give all the presents back. 'Course, if I died tonight, I'd go to my grave knowing just who my friends were. I kinda felt like Huck Finn.

"Yeah?" Ivy's wary voice came back through the church.

"I'm David. David Hue," came a familiar voice, and swallowing the last bite of toast, I ambled up to the front of the church. I was starving, and I wondered if Ivy was slipping Brimstone into my coffee to try to build my body's reserves after that dunk in the river.

"Who is she?" Ivy asked belligerently as I entered the sanctuary and found them on the landing, the lowering sun coming in past their feet.

"I'm his secretary," a tidy woman at David's side said, smiling. "Can we come in?"

My eyes widened. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," I said, waving my hands in protest. "I can't watch two of you and bring in Lee."

David ran his eyes down my casual sweater and jeans, his eyes thick with a calculating evaluation. They lingered on my shortened hair, dyed a temporary brown just this afternoon as he had suggested over the phone. "Mrs. Aver isn't going to come with us," he said, making what was probably an unconscious nod of approval. "I thought it prudent that your neighbors see me arrive with a woman as well as leave with one. You're close to the same body build."

"Oh." Idiot, I thought. Why didn't I think of that?

Mrs. Aver smiled, but I could tell she thought I was an idiot, too. "I'll just pop into your bathroom and change, and then I'll go," she said brightly. Taking a step into the room, she set her slim briefcase beside the piano bench and hesitated.

Ivy started. "This way," she said, indicating that the woman should follow her.

"Thank you. You're so kind."

Making a small face for all the hidden undercurrents, I watched Mrs. Aver and Ivy leave, the former making a lot of noise in her bland black heels, the latter silent in her slippers. Their conversation ended with the click of my bathroom door shutting, and I turned to David.

He looked like a completely different Were outside of his spandex running pants and shirt. And nowhere near the same person the time I saw him leaning against a park tree in a duster that went to his boot tops and a cowboy hat pulled over his eyes. His heavy stubble was gone, to leave sun-roughed cheeks, and his long hair was styled and smelled of moss. Only the highest ranking Weres could carry off polish and not look like they were trying, but David managed it. The three-piece suit and manicured fingernails helped. He looked older than his athletic physique would testify, with a pair of glasses perched on his nose and a tie snugged up to his neck. Actually, he looked really good—in a professional, educated sort of way.

"Thanks again for helping me get in to see Saladan," I said, feeling awkward.

"Don't thank me," he said. "I'm getting a huge bonus." He set his expensive-looking suitcase on the piano bench. He seemed preoccupied—not angry with me, but wary and disapproving. It made me uncomfortable. Sensing me watching him, he looked up. "Mind if I do a little prep paperwork?"

I shifted back a step. "No. Go right ahead. You want some coffee?"

David looked at Jenks's desk and hesitated. Brow furrowing, he sat astride the piano bench and opened his briefcase up before him. "No thanks. We won't be here that long."

"Okay." I retreated, feeling his dissatisfaction heavy on me. I knew he didn't like that I had lied to my partner by omission, but all I needed was for him to get me in to see Lee. I hesitated at the top of the hallway. "I'll go change. I wanted to see what you were wearing."