Page 64 of Goblins Don't Count
His eyes were so intent, so burning. “I can, yes, but you should lie down. You need to rest if you’re going to heal.”
“Lying on your lap while you’re licking me is too weird.”
“Cuddling is less weird?”
“Yes. Boyfriends are supposed to cuddle. They aren’t supposed to eat dresses and lick flesh wounds.”
“So glad you clarified that point.” He worked quickly to smooth on a bandage then fell over on the seat, pulling me down so I was spooned in front of him. “You have no idea how much weirder it is to cuddle than to lick flesh wounds for me.”
“We already cuddled,” I protested.
“But I need the practice. We’re almost at your interview, and then we’ll stop cuddling and look official instead. You’ll have to wear your jacket to cover the hole in your shirt.”
Instead of arguing, I let myself relax and soak up his warmth and strength. Too soon, the car pulled to a stop while I was dozing off, his relaxed arm draped over me, holding me on the bench.
“We’re here.” His voice was not relaxed. His tone brought me completely awake. Right. I had work to do. I needed to do an interview with the suicide victim’s mother, see if she had any of the girl’s old files that might provide incriminating evidence against the company she’d been willing to testify against.
I sat up, moving slow as my shoulder’s sore stiffness dragged on me. I looked out the window at the modest apartment building, then dug the screenshot of the address I’d taken on my phone. “That was fast.”
“Do you have any tips for how to be an excellent partner?” he asked, giving me a polite smile.
“No. You’re already perfect.”
His eyes flashed, gleaming gold for a moment. “That’s not very specific.”
“Specifically, back me up without taking over, don’t leave without me when you’re my ride, and fix my bandage when it’s seeping.” I smiled and patted his leg. “Let’s go.”
The walk up to the elevator was already making my shoulder pull. I’d enjoyed it not hurting while I relaxed in the back of the limo. Things could be a lot worse, I mean, goblin bombs were notoriously deadly, but it still hurt, and I was still reeling from being made lieutenant, buried under so much responsibility when I lacked power.
Sashimi reached over to grab my hand, squeezing it once before releasing me and focusing on the elevator. He watched its descent like it might be a dragon.
I blinked and straightened up. Just because I was tired and felt safe with him didn’t mean I should relax. It was very possible that this woman was considered a witness by the company that had likely killed her daughter.
The elevator finally came and opened, but no one was inside. We got in, both of us sniffing for traces of danger.
“It smells fine,” I noted, then turned and was washed in his scent, his hair, his skin, his breath, and all of it was absolutely intoxicating. I took a deep swallow of the air in that elevator, so full of him, and then the next thing I knew, I was pressing him against the side, inhaling his throat, tasting him with my tongue and mouth, trying to swallow him whole.
The door dinged open and I straightened up, fumbling away from him and towards the hall like a dress-drunk goblin. What was wrong with me? I’d been teasing about reciprocation, but that hadn’t felt like a choice. I walked down the hall towards the apartment, hoping I didn’t look as unsteady as I felt. He stayed close, directly behind my injured shoulder.
I got to the right door and stood there, needing to tell him that it wasn’t a big deal, just reciprocation, and it wouldn’t happen again, but he still smelled so good. I’d never been unprofessional on the job in my life, but I was tempted to grab his tie and kiss him while pinning him to the door of the whistle blower’s poor mother.
“Something’s off,” he said, frowning while I knocked on the door.
I looked over at him as the door opened, so when I looked back at the woman, met her eyes, and recognized her as the maid from the first crime scene, he was already moving, yanking me away from the door where a wave of flickering infernal fire came pouring out of her.
We were both running from the flames, my brain spinning in shock. The mother of the suicide victim was the housekeeper who had watched the judge’s descent into paranoia and madness. Not watching, causing. She wanted revenge, and I was getting in her way.
Sashimi pulled back, whirling this bright green magic that lit up the hall, blocking the wave of infernal flames before he resumed his running beside me towards the end of the hall, which was the opposite of the elevator.
“We need to warn the neighbors! And there’s no exit!”
He gave me a look, then grabbed me tight into his arms, tucked my head under his chin, and then leapt out the window.
ChapterEighteen
We plummeted, flipping in the air until gradually we slowed, sliding down the side of the building thanks to Sashimi’s ability to grasp walls.
With an oomph, we hit the ground, or he hit the ground, still holding me, and then he was running, carrying me towards the limo.
