Page 62 of The Healer

Gran huffed. “It’s not. It’s Ilona’s now. Besides, there’s a car parked here. She might be…busy.”

“What?” Amos’s footsteps stomped along the passage, coming closer. “If any of these randy bucks has seduced my granddaughter, there will be hell to pay.”

“Should I hide?” Rhys’s teasing smile snatched her breath, and she blinked at him, a little dazed by him. “Ilona?” He groaned and captured her mouth with his, tugging on her heart, her soul with a flick of his tongue. No wonder desire was so addictive. “Woman, you were made for kissing.”

She released a shuddering sigh. “You won’t fit in the closet.” After a quick trail of her fingers along his ribbed torso, she hurried to the bedroom door to swing it open. “I can fuck who I want. I owe you no explanations, Amos.”

“Fuck me…please.” Rhys’s plea drew her focus. He adjusted his jeans around an impressive erection.

Despite the rush of arousal flooding her system, she scolded him, “Quit it. You’ve known me three days.”

“Never had a one-night stand?”

She gasped, gripping the door until the wood bit into her palm. “You want one?”

He dragged his heated gaze down her body, thrumming need through hers. “No, I want many.”

Right answer. Forcing her gaze away, she bolted into the passage and whacked into Amos. Tumbling back, she bounced off Rhys’s chest. He caught her with his arm around her waist, pinning her against him.

“Who the fuck are y—? Rhys?” Amos grinned, thrusting out his hand in greeting. “What brings you to our neck of the woods?” He frowned, slicing glances between Ilona and the man holding her in a far-too-intimate embrace.

“Needed a break.” Rhys kissed the crown of her head. “But now I’m babysitting a sick doctor.”

“Sick?” Amos’s posture changed as he scanned her for symptoms. “Reddish nose, flushed cheeks, hoarse voice…a cold?”

“Rhys plied me with soup and kept me company.” She tapped his arm, asking him to release her. Once he did, she slipped around Amos to the lone woman hovering by the front door. “Gran?”

“I’m so sorry, Ilona. I shouldn’t have sent you here. I should have come myself.” Tears streamed down Gran’s cheeks, and she wiped them away with trembling fingers. “I was a coward then and one now.” She tugged Ilona into a crushing hug. “You could’ve died from Edison’s claws or when you rescued the scientists.”

Ilona stepped back from the hug and dismissed the danger with a flick of her hand. “I could’ve died from Harriet overfeeding me. My jeans are a little tight.” They weren’t, but shards of illogical guilt forced her to downplay the last few days.

“I like your curves,” Rhys whispered when he kissed her shoulder on the way to the kitchen.

Ilona twisted to glance at Amos. “I can go home, right? With you here, Coedwig doesn’t need me anymore.”

“Stay, please. Just a few days.” Gran pouted in that way that always made Mom laugh…and cave.

“You’re leaving?” Rhys hovered in the dining room, holding a bag of ground coffee. “I wanted to ask Monique about the Devereaux line.”

Leaving him settled like lead in the pit of her stomach. Between the remnants of sinusitis and unfulfilled sexual tension, she wasn’t able to sift through her emotions without bias. He was a sexy-as-hell charmer, determined to woo her, but that didn’t mean she had to drop everything and stay with him. She had tasks waiting for her, like sorting through her parents’ home and maybe putting it on the market.

“The Devereaux line?” Gran frowned, sliding into the dining room chair to watch Rhys make coffee. Amos busied himself at the stove, starting on breakfast.

“Yes, I recently made the acquaintance of Callista and Valerie Devereaux. Their father was a police officer who died in the line of duty. Callie says he was an orphan.” Rhys lined mugs on the counter, gathered the sugar and cream, and carried them to the table.

“Why the interest?”

He settled his gaze on Ilona, his focus intense. “My bear reacted to Callie, but since she’s a vamp’s mate, my connection to her made no sense.”

“You think it’s a blood thing?” Amos asked from the kitchen, raising his voice above the sizzling bacon.

Ice drenched Ilona’s face, and that lead in her stomach softened and rose in a wave of nausea. “You want me because I might have the same genes as her?”

“No, yes, let me explain.” Rhys shortened the distance between them, but she jerked back, shaking her head as tears stung her eyes.

“I’m the substitute?” She wrapped her arms around her waist, coiling away from the sweetness of his duplicitous affection.

Not waiting for his response, she sprinted along the passage to her room and yanked out her bag, dropping it onto her bed. She grabbed her things and threw them in, uncaring in what condition they would arrive in Fenneg.

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