Page 20 of Elven Prince

“You got it, boss.” He gave her a thumbs-up with two enormous gray thumbs before getting sucked back into someone else’s entertaining story.

Rebecca was already on her way toward the other end of the common room by then, confident that even when he seemed distracted and too jovial to take anything seriously, Tituswouldbe there in ten minutes, fully prepared, because she’d asked it of him.

The crowd parted for her again as she crossed the room. They all still responded to her presence here as if some new unwritten rule had demanded they all be on their best. Behavior around their commander.

Even though Rebecca never had and never would claim to be a model of “good behavior” for anyone.

Apparently, that didn’t matter.

As the last large group of operatives cleared the way to let her pass, Rebecca shot a quick glance toward the refreshments table and the service window into the kitchens. The thought of Bor enjoying himself at a party, even from the other side of that window, was too good of a sight to pass up.

Sure enough, Shade’s resident cook was there, his wizened face puckered by battle scars poking through the service window as he surveyed the celebration in his usual gruff, standoffish manner.

She didn’t expect to find Maxwell there too, standing beside the service window as if the two of them had joined forces to talk about everyone here, one at a time, while they isolated themselves from the rest of the party.

Both Maxwell and Bor were already staring at Rebecca, though once she noticed them, the old giveldi snorted, shook his head, and disappeared into the kitchens. A moment later, the service window slammed shut behind him.

If Maxwell noted the cook’s response, he didn’t show it.

He merely stared Rebecca down, his prickly, brooding glower returned with full force.

Damn.

This felt too much like the beginning, when the shifter had suspected her of way too many things to count and Rebecca had thought of him only as a major pain in her ass.

Now, apparently, they were right back where they’d started—his constant gaze pulling her attention from across a crowded room and making her wonder just what he thought it would accomplish.

Was that really where they stood with each other now? Had their relationship—whatever it was—devolved to the point of glaring at each other without bothering to conceal the rampant suspicion growing between them?

With one major difference. This time, Rebecca’s Head of Security had some serious explaining to do himself. Specifically about that elven rune marking his flesh and what it was supposed to mean to him—quite possibly even to both of them.

This new secret of his carried far more weight than his simple refusal to leave her alone or catch any privacy for herself.

This time,shewas the one justified in her suspicions, and she would figure out what he was hiding.

After she figured out how the hell she was supposed to unearth that kind of information.

She kept telling herself her reaction was perfectly acceptable as she left the common room and headed toward the rear stairwell down to the garage.

Every step felt like an agonizing blow through her flesh, but she kept moving.

Once again, separating herself from Maxwell Hannigan remained first and foremost on her list of effective methods for cooling off and calming down. Even when putting more distance between them nearly made her cry out from the pain of it.

Or, itwouldhave, if Rebecca hadn’t had centuries of experience dealing with physical pain and adapting her response to it as a necessity of who and what she was.

Once the pain receded and she headed down the stairs, she reminded herself that right now, getting away from the shifter was still her best option.

As long as she ignored the fact that getting away from the shifter had never done anything good for her in the past and that it was unlikely to change now.

The only silver lining there was that Rebecca had already gotten used to something going wrong at the worst possible moment and now knew to expect it anywhere, anytime.

5

Rebecca just wanted to get out. To get some fresh air. To put some distance between herself and Shade Headquarters—and, more specifically, between her and Maxwell.

She needed to get her head on straight again and remember what it was like to not be assaulted by a nearly sentient third-party energy drawing her and the shifter together at every waking moment.

She focused so intently on how much better she’d feel after leaving the compound, the booming roar that greeted her when she reached the bottom of the stairwell—cracking across the garage like a sonic explosion—made her falter and almost lose her balance on the last step.

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