But the three humanoid and two non-human bodies from the burned-out barn had needed DNA testing. I had the suspicion that the two non-humans were probably shifters, based on the fact that the chemical spectrum analysis had come back positive for the same accelerant that had been used on the bonfire with the shifter Colfax had called me to.
Colfax had been at the scene last night, too, and had immediately demanded that I run DNA on both non-human bodies. I’d informed the massive orc that I was running DNA onallof them. Because shifters could take both forms. And because we wanted to have IDs on all of them, regardless of species.
So I’d run five consecutive DNA panels, and came out at the end of it with DNA for three shifters, one Arc-human, and an elf. The Arc-human had an ID from a missing person about nine years back, but none of the others had given us names.
I’d spent the rest of my time cross-referencing particulate evidence, checking tire tracks, running fingerprints, eliminating tire tracks and fingerprints, running tox screens—we had a new toy at the lab—and checking spectral analyses. I’d been moving non-stop since I’d gotten in at one, and even though Smith had told me to go home when I’d brought him a box of evidence and small stack of reports, I’d checked with Lacy, who then also told me to go home.
There would be more to do tomorrow, such as figuring out how long they’d been there, but now I was going to go back toElliot’s house and hope that I got at least some real sleep. I also wanted to do things that didn’t involve sleeping, but I wasn’t sure how much energy I was going to have for any of it once I actually sat down. I hadn’t actually done that in the last five-ish hours other than half a butt cheek on a stool while typing in something quickly.
I was sure my reports were rife with typos.
Right at that moment, I didn’t give a shit.
I probably drove too fast, particularly considering that I was running on about three-and-a-half hours sleep. I wasn’t in danger offallingasleep, but my reaction times and judgment were probably fairly impaired by this point. Fortunately for me—and everyone else on the road, if I’m being honest—nothing noteworthy happened between work and Elliot’s house.
I pulled up behind his truck, even a week and a half later not wanting to park over the tire tracks left by whomever had killed the badger. And the dog.
Whomever had threatened Elliot.
I slid out of the Cruiser, hissing out loud at the pain in my knee, my ankle, and my back. I limped back and pulled a bag out of the back seat, looking forward to more of Henry’s cream, a hot shower, a hot meal, and sex that would let me work out one hell of a lot of stress and tension. Not necessarily in that order, either.
And then I stopped, feeling like an absolute fool because I hadn’t checked with Elliot to see if he wanted me to come over. Or was even willing to have me here for dinner, much less stay over. He had said that I could stay at the house, but that was back before we’d gone on our disaster-date and before he’d kissed me?—
“Are you coming inside, or are you going to stare at the dead grass all night?” his voice interrupted my borderline panic attack. His tone was warm, welcoming. It was like a ray ofsunshine—not that there was any actual sunshine left this late in the year.
I hadn’t actually been staring at the grass, although my face had been pointed in its general direction. I could actually see it—my vision was definitely better in the dark than it had been when I was an ordinary human.
I looked over at the house, finding Elliot’s form outlined in the doorway by the warm light from inside. He was leaning against the frame, one ankle in front of the other, arms crossed over his chest. Something glinted near his ears, and I wondered if he was still wearing the silver feathers he’d had on this morning.
I swallowed, suddenly exceedingly nervous. “Should I?—”
“Bring your clothes in, if you have them,” he replied. “Toothbrush, too.” I could hear pleasure in his voice. “If you forgot it, I have an extra somewhere.”
I took a shaky breath, then found my courage. “One you didn’t use to varnish something?” I called back.
I heard his chuckle, low and rough, and it was enough to get me to move my feet, propelling me toward the glow of the open door and Elliot’s crooked smile.
I climbed the steps to the house, stepping up to the door so that I could look down into Elliot’s sparkling hazel eyes. “Hi,” I said softly.
He took the bag from me, set it down behind him, then put his hands on my sides and pulled me into the house. I reached out, cupping his face in my hands, bending to savor the feeling of his lips on mine.
He hooked his fingers in my belt loops, pulling me close against him with a tug that was almost—but not quite—rough, his lips opening and inviting me deepen the kiss. I accepted the invitation, leaning into his body, claiming his mouth with mine.
I felt more than heard the rumble of a growl in his throat against my fingers before he pulled away. I let him go.
I was breathless, and so was he, as he stepped back. “At least take your shoes off,” he said, the half-smile back in place on lips that were slightly swollen, his cheeks flushed and mouth pink from the roughness of my beard.
“Right,” I said, wondering if he’d stopped kissing me because of the beard. I’d shave it off if he asked me to, although I did rather enjoy not having to shave every morning.
I slowly crouched down, wincing, and began to untie my shoes, although I was almost immediately distracted by Elliot’s fingers sliding into my hair. I sucked in a breath through my nose and finally noticed the smell in the house—fish, along with something a little sweet, but also savory.
I looked up at Elliot, one shoe untied. “It smells good,” I told him. “What are you making?”
He smiled down at me, fingers toying a little with my hair. He’d never done that before, and I liked it.
“Maple salmon, roasted squash, and corn cakes.” He grinned. “Turns out, dairy is a white people food, so I can make you what my people traditionally eat and you’ll be just fine.” He paused. “Skipping the venison and rabbit, I guess. But turkey and fish, anyway.”
I blinked. “Dairy is a white people food?” I asked, surprised.
