7

Hank glanced beyond me to the lake, his smile fading. One hand slipped beneath my knees and the other went around my back. Without a word, he lifted me off the ground.

My hands came around his neck, the skin hot to my cold fingers. His clean scent filled the air as my head fell against his shoulder. The image of Hank’s ex-girlfriend Zara came to mind, all tall and gorgeous and perfect in her siren beauty. As comparisons went, she was probably looking pretty good to Hank right about then. My humiliation increased with every stride he made up the embankment.

My hands slid off his wide shoulders as he set me on my feet, one hand around my waist while opening the car door with the other. Sleek black Mercedes coupe stared back at me. Oh, great. Humiliation complete. “Don’t put me in your car,” I begged in a whisper. “You’ll ruin your seats. Just put me in the back of my Tahoe. I’ll drive when I feel better.”

“They’re just seats, Charlie. It’s not a big deal. I’ll call the chief and see if he can get someone out here to get your truck.”

I slid wet and stiff onto the expensive leather seats, totally grossed out by myself. Hank got in, opened our windows, and then started the car.

I faced away from him, curling toward the door and shaking uncontrollably. My thoughts turned to Nivian. That watery little bitch had tried to drown me. I wanted to choke her with her own damn lake water or, better yet, stake her to the hot sand beneath the blazing sun of the Sahara Desert. Let her dry up until she resembled a tiny piece of sylph jerky.

Imagining revenge, however, didn’t make me feel better.

I watched the miles go by, letting my mind drift to one vague thought after another. The mark on my shoulder stayed warm, the heat seeping into my cold limbs. By the time we pulled into my driveway in Candler Park, my tremors had become minor.

Hank turned off the engine and got out. I reached for the door handle, but it slipped rather violently from my weak fingers. Frustration flared; I was so tapped out that I couldn’t even pull a fucking door handle.

My door opened on its own. Hank stood back, one hand on the top of the car as he bent down to extend me his other hand.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, sliding my hand into his. He hauled me from the car. As soon as my full weight settled into my legs, my knees gave way.

“Whoa,” Hank said, picking me up and shutting the car door with his foot.

“Anyone home?” he asked.

“No, Rex and Emma went shopping and Brim is in the kennel.”

Hank used his own key, the one I’d exchanged with him a long time ago, opened the door, and took me straight up the stairs and into my bathroom, where he set me on the counter and then turned on the water in the tub.

“Shower or bath?” He glanced over his shoulder.

I stared at him. I hadn’t seen him in a week and suddenly he was here, his six-foot-four frame filling my bathroom, and taking care of me like it was the most natural thing in the world and I didn’t reek like a sewer.

“Earth to Charlie.”

“Oh, um, shower.” I needed to stand, to get the strength back into my legs.

Hank adjusted the water temperature, turned on the shower, and closed the curtain. As he straightened, I was thrown back to a similar situation when I’d stabbed him with the Throne Tree branch and he’d been unable to get into his bathroom on his own or undress himself. He’d relied on me. He hadn’t told me to go, to leave and not see him so weak. He let me in, and I suppose that was a form of trust after all. For all he didn’t tell me about his past, I knew he did trust me with his present.

“Could you …?”

He didn’t blink, didn’t register any kind of emotion, just stepped closer, grabbed the hem of my shirt, and pulled it over my head. He tossed the nasty thing into the corner and then stood me up to help with my pants. I was so shaky and weak; I grabbed both of his shoulders for support as he knelt down and took on the difficult job of trying to peel off my wet pants.

“For the record,” he said, looking up at me with a crooked smile, “this is not how I pictured removing your pants for the first time.”

“That confident, are we?”

His smile filled out, deep and brimming with humor. “When something is this inevitable. Yes.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help but smile. I pulled one leg free and then the other.

He tossed my wet pants into the pile with the rest of my soiled clothes, then turned back and froze. “You’re wearing SpongeBob underwear.”

Shit.

My gaze flew downward and my mortification was finally complete. “Emma got them for me … for my birthday.” What the hell. Might as well get it over with. I turned around. “Patrick is on my ass.”

God, it was so ridiculous. I glanced over my shoulder to see him grinning like a damn fool. Our laughter came at the same time, his rich and easy and mine scratchy and hoarse. When it died, we stood there in an odd moment when comfort and tension seemed to exist in tandem.

“I can take off the voice-mod, Charlie.” His voice dropped. “I can make you feel better with a word.”

A hot flush burst low in my belly. The steam from the shower was taking all the oxygen out of the room. Or maybe that was Hank. I couldn’t help but wonder what he’d say. How it would feel. Silly girl. You know exactly how it would feel. And without a doubt I’d like it way too much.

“No.” The word came out high and broken. I cleared my throat. “I’ll heal. I’ll be fine. I can handle it from here.” I wrapped my arms around my bare midriff, starting to shiver again. “If you want to clean up, you can use the bathroom downstairs. There are clean shirts of Will’s in my closet …”

“Thanks.” He lingered at the door. “You need help getting into the shower?”

I shook my head. “Nice try, siren.” He flashed me a grin and then left the room.

“You’re not seriously thinking about going through with this. There are three more of those crazy bitches out there,” Rex said in disbelief.

I spooned another bite of hot tomato and orzo soup with shredded chicken into my mouth, savoring the rich, creamy flavor.

Thank God for Rex and his cooking skills; by the time I got out of the shower and came downstairs I was ravenous, my stomach leading me right to the Crock-Pot. He must’ve made the soup this morning before going shopping with Emma. They returned while I was the shower. Em had already scarfed down a bowl and was in the backyard with Brim. Hank was just finishing up his second bowl, and Rex was looking pretty pleased with himself—well, except for the sylph bomb I’d just dropped on him.

I swallowed another bite. “I don’t really see another way, do you? We might’ve been able to wait before, to convince an exorcist outside of the union to come here, but now with the suicides, there isn’t any time.”

“So we just have to sit around and let them nearly kill you? Three more times?”

I shrugged, “Well, that’s just it. They’re not going to kill me, Rex. Look, in a couple days, we’ll know. We’ll have our answers.”

The sylphs were our only option. I’d accept their “gifts” and then somehow they’d work their magic. We’d know if Bryn was in danger and which ash victims to protect. And if Titus Mott hurried his genius ass up and found a cure for ash, the danger for all of them would be over. Then I could concentrate on tearing down Grigori Tennin and the Sons of Dawn for good.

Hank pushed his bowl away and leaned back in the chair. “Good soup, Rex.”

I snagged a chunk of chicken with my spoon, about to agree, when Rex turned abruptly in his chair and faced Hank. “So,” he began in a stilted tone, “Charlie and I stopped by your place last night. You weren’t there. Where were you?”

I froze, feeling like every ounce of blood had drained from my face as I stared wide-eyed at Rex. Just shoot me now. I sank deeper into the chair, wishing I could just keep going. I forced down my bite.

Emma burst through the back door. “Mom, where did you put the tea tree oil?”

I blinked, unable to wrap my mind around her question. Rex threw a casual glance over his shoulder. “It’s in the junk drawer.” And then his eyes were back on Hank, brow lifted high and waiting.

Em rooted around the last drawer beneath the kitchen counter. “I want to try it on Brim’s elbow …” She found the oil and shut the drawer and went back to the door, waving behind her. “Carry on, old people.”

Silence greeted us after she left.

Hank was still leaning back in the chair, looking completely at ease. “I was out.” He cocked his head at Rex and then folded his arms over his chest.

“It’s no big deal. I just wanted to check on you,” I said, glaring at Rex as I gathered the empty bowls. “It’s none of our business.”

I was hoping Hank would elaborate anyway, but he remained quiet as I set the bowls on the kitchen counter and then opened the dishwasher.

“I was out,” Hank finally answered. “Shopping.”

I turned. “Shopping?”

Em came in at that moment to put the oil back. “There, maybe that’ll grow some hair on that elbow.”

Hank rocked back in the chair, looking particularly amused. One corner of his mouth turned up. “Christmas presents.”

I frowned, not expecting that answer, while Emma went instantly on alert, her expression like that of a prairie dog that had just popped up out of its hole.

“If you hadn’t noticed,” he continued, “I missed Christmas.” Hank dug in his pocket and tossed Emma the car keys. “They’re in the trunk.”

“Figures.” Rex rolled his eyes and got up. “I’m hitting the john,” he muttered.

Em squealed and darted out of the kitchen with the keys. I winced as the screen door banged against the frame.

I just stood there, back against the counter, hands still wet. Ever since we began working together, Hank had gotten Emma a Christmas present. Usually something way too expensive. I gave myself a mental shake and rubbed my hands on my cotton drawstring pants. Right. The usual. For a second there, I’d thought he’d meant me and that would just be … weird. I mean, we’d never exchanged gifts before …

I turned to wash out the bowls. My mark flared. I stiffened, not needing the mark to feel Hank’s presence behind me, swamping me. His hands fell on other side of the counter, trapping me. Immediately, my pulse skipped and my senses went into hyperdrive.

He leaned down, taking advantage of my momentary lapse. My mouth went dry. I tried to swallow. Warm breath breezed faintly against my neck, the short ends of my hair doing a soft wave toward my chin.

His lips were too close to my ear, his voice husky and low with an edge of humor. “I got you something, too.”

And then he was gone, back to the table and leaving me more disoriented than I’d been before. The ceramic bowl in my hand shattered. I jumped. “Damn it!” Great. Perfect. Thoroughly embarrassed now, I went to work cleaning up the shards from the sink with a paper towel while trying to calm myself with slow, regulated breaths, wishing like hell the heat would drain from my face.

I ran the water to clear the sink of the tinier fragments, wiped my hands on a dish towel this time, and then turned to throw the paper towel in the trash. Hank was back in his chair, leaning back so that the two front legs were off the floor and looking pretty pleased with himself.

“Since when do we get each other gifts?” I asked, sounding more composed than I felt. “I didn’t get you anything.”

He sat forward. “It’s just a gift, Charlie. Every year I shop for Em, I see something that makes me think of you. This year things are different …”

There’d been no gifts before because we were friends. Because I was married and happy. Because there were never any romantic feelings between us. Not like that. At least on my part there hadn’t been. While I had no choice but to acknowledge and grow accustomed to my partner’s extraordinary allure, I’d never crossed the bridge of developing those kinds of feelings for him.

Had he?

My thoughts must’ve been pretty transparent. “I wasn’t longing after you while you were married, Charlie. It wasn’t something I even allowed myself to think. I was too new to this world, too new to my freedom and all the things I wanted to experience …”

Wait … freedom? “What—”

Emma stormed back into the house with a giant bag smelling like the bakery in Underground. Sweet, warm dough. God, I loved that smell. She set the bag on the table and pulled out a large wrapped box, rolling it around in her hands. “This one is for me.” She set it aside and then dug out a plain brown box, the size of a boot box. “There’s no name on this one. Is this mine, too?”

“That one’s for your mom,” Hank answered.

Em turned to me, her smile goofy and her expression silly. She sang the words, “You got a present.”

I took it with an eye roll at her teasing. My pulse thrummed; I hadn’t gotten a gift from a guy in a long time.

I set the box on the table and opened the lid. Gasped and then shut it again, my gaze flying to Hank’s. He was grinning broadly now, his eyes a brilliant topaz blue. I was a hard person to buy for, I didn’t collect anything, didn’t talk about things I wanted to buy …

“Mom! What is it?”

“It’s a dozen Aeva buns,” I said in awe and then laughed. “Oh my God.”

“There’s a subscription notice in there, too. Every month, you’ll get a dozen delivered to your doorstep for a year.”

I clutched the box to my chest, though not too tightly—didn’t want to damage those heavenly concoctions. “You got me a Buns for a Year subscription? Are you kidding me?”

I was smiling like an idiot, smiling because this was just like Hank. And he hadn’t gone and done something like get me jewelry or a scarf or perfume or a useless trinket I’d never use. He bought me something I raved about on pretty much a daily basis, something no one had ever gotten before even though every year I casually threw out the mention to those around me.

Maybe I’d never gotten it because everyone else thought it was a goofy idea. But I always thought if you were gonna give a gift, it should be something the person wanted, really, really wanted. And boy, did Hank hit this one out of the park.

“Mother,” Em said in a serious tone, “I hope you know you will be sharing those.”

My eyes narrowed. “I might give you one … if your room is clean, you do the dishes, empty the trash …”

“Mom!” She reached for the box.

I held it aloft, laughing. “Okay, okay. You can have one.” I set the box on the table and opened the lid, selecting a fluffy white creation with reverence.

Made by the Elysian imps who were known in all three worlds for their skills in the baked goods department, the Aeva buns were their highest achievement. I handed Emma one and took one for myself, biting into the soft, cloud-like creation, so sweet and light that it melted in your mouth.

Rex came down the hall. “I smell Aeva buns.”

My gaze stayed on Hank. I managed a thank-you through my stuffed cheeks. He gave me a small nod and a half-smile, yet so much swam in his expression—satisfaction, relief—something that spoke of vulnerability. If I wasn’t mistaken, he’d been just as nervous as me about the gift. Christ. That realization disarmed me completely and my heart gave a hard knock.