Page 31 of The Thief

“If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that.” Virgil strode ahead of him, his robe fluttering behind like a ribbon in the wind. “You worry about your half of the house, and I’ll worry about mine.”

Bear turned at the last hall on the right. Leaning against the wall, Virgil opened Mercy’s bedroom door with a dramatic swing of his arm.

Bear took a few steps and waited for his eyes to adjust.

Virgil flipped on the light. “Check out the wall. Shortcake has talent.”

“Shh.”

Virgil snorted. “Like she’s gonna wake up. Once her light goes off, I know I can sing without her knocking on my door.”

Bear admired the painted wall behind her bed. It was a cloudscape with muted tones and no hard lines.

Virgil flipped the covers back. “Feeling frisky tonight? Because if so, you need to go find yourself a conscious girl.”

Ignoring Virgil, Bear set her down on the side with the butterfly lamp. He guessed she probably used that more than the overhead light. The color scheme felt fresh and feminine, and he would have stayed longer if not for Virgil, who was sniffing her perfume over by the vanity.

After removing Mercy’s shoes and socks, Bear covered her with the blanket. He had never allowed himself to stare too long at her angelic face—her silver eyebrows perfectly shaped, the freckles on her nose like tiny flecks of nutmeg. Because she’d washed her face before they left, her skin glowed, and he wished he could gaze at it for hours.

Mercy moaned and rolled onto her side.

“She’s a small girl,” Virgil remarked. “I think if I were a woman, I’d want to be small too.”

Bear looked up at Virgil, who was wearing Mercy’s delicate lace bra and admiring the small cups in the mirror.

Bear marched over and yanked it, but the fabric ripped in two places.

Virgil collected the torn garment from his arm and hooked it around Bear’s neck. “If that’s the way you seduce women, you might want to work on your technique. Slow and easy wins the race.” He strutted out of the room and flipped off the light.

Bear set the bra on the vanity and lingered. His wolf pressed against his skin, begging to come out.

Not now.

He wondered if she had intentionally picked a room without windows. On a few occasions, Mercy had gone into the kitchen for a drink in the middle of the night. She’d once told him that a nightmare had woken her and she couldn’t go back to sleep, but it never occurred to him to ask if something else was going on. Bear wanted to kick himself for not having asked.

A snore startled him.

His wolf pressed harder, demanding that he guard her bed. If Bear didn’t get out of here, he wouldn’t be able to control his animal much longer.

Stepping into the hall, he closed her door and stared through Virgil’s open doorway. Unlike Mercy’s room, Virgil’s had a window opposite the door. Curious, Bear leaned in and looked around. As expected, paintings covered the walls—some naughty, some nautical. Virgil didn’t seem to have a preference when it came to art.

“No entrada.” Virgil opened his closet door on the right and stepped inside. “You have to make reservations to stay in my boudoir.”

Bear braced his arm against the doorjamb. “Do me a favor and keep an eye on Mercy.”

Virgil’s robe flew across the room and landed on the floor. “That’s one girl who doesn’t need looking after.”

“Don’t let any strangers on the property. Some Mage is looking for her.”

Virgil poked his head out from the closet. “What does he look like?”

Bear gripped the top of the doorframe. “Silver hair. Long. He dresses like a count.”

“Does he sound like the one on Sesame Street too?”

“Just keep an eye on her. If she wants to take a long walk down the road, keep her company. But don’t tell her I put you up to it.”

“Will do.” He dipped back in the closet. “You might want to turn away. Virgil Nightingale sleeps in the nude.”

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