Page 62 of A Touch of Brimstone

I rolled out of the bed, marched to the door, and yanked it open.

“What!” I growled. I sounded formidable. If words had the power some people claimed they did, they would have ripped his head off.

He didn’t speak for a long time, his eyes traveling the length of my body and settling on my lips, as if he had a hard time believing that level of anger came from them. Then they met my eyes.

“My sister was out of line.”

“Did she say anything that wasn’t true?”

He answered with a sigh. I took it as a tacit confirmation.

“May I come in?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Yes.”

“Then no.”

He nodded. “I need the Trapsen.”

Closing the door in his face felt better than I could have ever imagined. I went to the dresser where I’d placed the Trapsen, grabbed it, opened the door, and shoved it into his chest. He took hold of my arm and pulled me into him. I could smell his scent intermingled with the redolence of wine and feel the firmness of his body.

This dude has killing you as an option if things don’t work out tomorrow, I reminded myself and cursed my hormones. They had lamentably poor self-protection instincts.

“The only way you don’t survive this is if I don’t,” he whispered. “That’s my promise to you.” He inched in closer, his lips warm, his breath breezing across my lips. “Okay?” he breathed. It was such a featherlight touch I wasn’t even sure it was a kiss.

He released me but I kept the miniscule distance between us.

“Okay?” he repeated.

Relief flooded through me and lifted a burden I hadn’t realized had weighed so heavily on me. Perspective changes judgment. All the things that I considered questionable about him—propensity for violence, power, calculating strategist, and arrogance—were things that would ensure we both came out of this victorious.

“Goodnight, Luna,” he said before walking away. I watched him until he disappeared around the corner.

“That is his oath, not mine,” Helena clarified, her voice acrid with disdain. I turned to find her just inches from me.

I pointed to my face, devoid of any emotion. Fatigue made it easier to maintain. “This is my ‘not giving a fuck’ face. Sorry if it looks similar to my ‘your little act is getting tiring, so get a new spiel’ face.”

Without giving her a chance to respond, I walked back into the room and slid a chair in front of the door. I had given Dominic the Trapsen, not the knife. Helena would feel the blade if she came in.

19

It took a while to take in the spacious living room from the entryway where the elevator had deposited us. To my disappointment, our destination from the Underworld didn’t put us in the alleyway of Books and Brew. I wanted to see the end results of their cleanup work. And Emoni’s five texts asking me to call her and checking in on me didn’t ease my concerns despite Dominic’s assurance that everything had been handled. His version of “handled” differed greatly from mine.

“I’m fine,” I texted. “You?”

“Have you heard about the store?”

Throughout the day, I had gone over how I’d handle this if asked, but now faced with lying to my best friend, it was more difficult than expected. I’m protecting her, I reminded myself.

“Yes, Cameron left a message. Store vandalized.” I added an angry emoji. “Sometimes I hate people.”

“Me too.”

I was about to send a message when Emoni’s ringtone sounded. Her calling set off alarms. She definitely preferred texts or video calls.

“Luna,” she rushed out as soon as I answered.

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