Page 40 of The Love Destroyers

I’m laughing as I set down the hammer and then look inside the bared interior of the wall. I can see a pair of little eyes glimmering in the dark. My heart hammers as I reach a hand down. “Come little kitty, come.”

The kitten hisses, which is fair—I just battered down its home, but I need it to trust me. To believe in me. I pitch my voice higher, the way people talk to babies and dogs. “Come, kitty, come.”

But the kitten hisses again.

“They’re not like dogs, Emma,” Seamus says from behind me. “You probably just insulted her pride.”

I nearly snort at the thought of a kitten having pride. Then again, what do I know? I’ve never had a pet. We weren’t allowed one here in Smith House. I could have gotten one after I left, of course, but someone had bought me a congratulations succulent after I graduated from law school, and it had only taken it two months to wither. If I could kill a succulent that easily, what would happen to a fuzzy animal?

Still. This animal has to be desperate and alone to have crawled into the walls of this house to stay warm, right? How did it even manage such a thing? It’s crafty too. Smart.

“Come on, kitty,” I say, my tone more modulated. “Come on out and see your new home.”

“You’re going to keep her?” Seamus says, and his voice is over my shoulder this time, slightly breathy. It’s warm and almost affectionate and feels like a caress to my ear.

I turn toward him, finding him closer than expected, that cloth lifted to his wound. “You’re not good at following instructions,” I say, poking his hard chest.

“Never have been,” he replies, giving me one of his easy grins that becomes pained half a second later.

“You broke your promise,” I accuse.

“I only made it under duress. Now, let me see if I can get him out.”

“You’re injured.”

“By your mother. Remind me never to piss off a Rosings woman again.”

“You’re doing it right now.”

His smile widens. Contracts. It’s hard to look away, but my friend gives another mewl, and I turn back and gaze down at the kitten.

“She’s coming closer, Seamus,” I say in a whisper, watching as her little black body moves nearer.

“She?” he asks, crowding me from behind. He’s not touching me, but he’s close, so close—his clothes a whisper against mine. I feel a deep awareness of the space he’s taking up, and how it almost overlaps with mine.

“She,” I repeat. “She wouldn’t do me the injustice of being another man.”

When he laughs, his chest does brush against me.

“A black cat. Some people would say she’s unlucky.”

“Then they’re stupid. There are a lot of stupid people in the world, aren’t there, Shadow?”

I canfeelSeamus’s smile. “Shadow?”

“I thought she might be a ghost. It seems appropriate.”

“You did?” he asks, and again, I feel his eyes on me and the heat of him. It’s like bathing in sunlight after a long stretch of cold days.

“Yeah. This place has always felt haunted to me. I’m sure Rosie’s told you, but my father was a bad man. He used to hurt my brother.”

He places a hand on my hip, his fingers wrapping around it—steady and sure. It’s an intimate touch, but I don’t try to push him away. “Did he hurt you too?” he asks, his voice a low, threatening rumble.

I swallow, watching inside of the wall as Shadow takes another tentative step toward us. It’s easier to watch her than him right now. “No. Not like that. And he didn’t molest me, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

His hand flexes around my hip. “But hedidhurt you. That’s what all of this is about, isn’t it?”

I feel his word at my neck. Inside of me.

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