“And I’m sorry I didnae share my suspicions with you, my sweet. I thought to protect you.” He looks sorrowfully between Connall and me. “‘Twas the wrong thing to do. Forgive me?”
I snuggle against him even as I toss a saucy look up over my shoulder at him. “See me after class, Mister Zefferus. It’ll be detention for you on account of extremely poor behavior.”
He groans and buries his face in my neck, laughing even as he sighs.
“I’m being serious, my sweet,” he manages, chuckling into my skin.
“Me too.” I nudge him in the belly with my elbow. “Can I see this book, please?”
“Of course.” Connall rises gracefully and grabs a book from the kitchen island. Somehow I didn’t notice the stack sitting there, what with the fuckery and all. He paces back to us and hands me the book. “Dirk and I got about halfway through it. There’s a lot there.”
I take it, running my fingers over the worn cover.
And then I lose myself for hours, devouring every scrap of information in its pages. Connall leaves to meet Richard, but Dirk stays with me. He’s silent while I read, stroking my hair and rubbing my back. Eventually, he leaves to clean up the bedroom and kitchen. I’ve got a lunch date at the Green Bean, but I read right up until it’s time to go. What I learn is fucking fascinating.
Dirk appears from the hallway, pulling fresh jeans on. Blue eyes flash at me, wrinkling in the corners as he smiles. “What is it my sweet? That look on your face tells me yeh’ve got to the part where blue witches need to sexually recharge after an expulsion of magic. Am I right?”
“Yeah.” I stare at him, gobsmacked. “But that explains why after I passed out I couldn’t wait to drag you both into the bedroom. I’m like a giant sex battery. A solar sex battery.”
Dirk laughs. “Well, I’m pleased as punch tae be the thing you need to recharge yeh, Louanna. Swear tae the gods I didnae plan that one, but when I say they made us to fit together, I’m right.”
I snort out a laugh and return to the book.
The blue witch who wrote it shares stories of blue witches decimating entire armies and leveling cities to the ground. It’s terrifying…and exhilarating.
But by the time we need to leave for the diner, I still haven’t found any mention of revenants.
“Damn,” I curse as I close the book, glancing at my watch.
Dirk holds a hand out for me. “Come, my sweet. Yer burgers await…”
Despite how serious and shocking this whole situation is, I love how he can still find a way to laugh. I take his hand, and we disappear into the wind.
“I’ll be fine,” I reassure Dirk for the millionth time, pointing at not only my nieces, but all three of their mates as well. “I’m in good hands.”
Dirk’s dark eyes move around the booth at the Galloping Green Bean.
“I’ll comm you if anything remotely suspicious occurs,” Abemet croons in his silky, deep voice, crimson eyes flashing with mirth.
Morgan smiles as she rubs his thigh.
Dirk lifts his chin at the former Keeper’s promise. “If I didn’t have to meet with yer mother right now, I’d not be leaving my woman, but…”
“It’s fine,” I repeat. He hasn’t talked much about work. Technically, he’s still on paid leave, finally using up the days he’s been accruing for the last ninety years.
Dirk bends down and presses his lips to mine, slinging his arm around my waist. “If yeh see him, dinnae try to stop him, love.”
“I don’t know if I can agree to that,” I whisper, lifting a palm for him to see. The tiniest of blue flames flickers there, and I can feel it now. That sense of otherworldly power. I should probably be terrified about this entire thing with Leighton. But somehow, now, I’m not. I’m far more terrified at the idea he’ll hurt someone else than worried for myself. I think if he wanted to hurt me, he would have.
Dirk grits his jaw. “I’ll be back soon, my beauty.” Without waiting for an answer, he slaps his gem and disappears on a gust of wind.
I take a seat next to Morgan and snatch a fry off her plate. She shoves the whole thing toward me with a wry smile. I’ve always been a food stealer. I’ve been stealing the triplets’ extras since we were kids together.
When Ohken, Wren’s big troll mate, gives me a funny little smile, I shrug. “What? It’s called the snack tax. Because I’ve watched over these girls their whole life, I get to tax their snacks until death do us part.”
I blanch a little after saying “death,” but Ohken grins, one auburn brow traveling toward his hairline. He glances at Wren, squeezing her hip. “Snack tax sounds like something I need to incorporate in our home.”
Wren snorts. “You’ve got me, honey, so you’ve already got the whole-ass snack, okay?”
