Page 42 of The Unweaver

Still, the attraction remained.Bloody idiot spinster.“I won’t,” she answered finally.

Intrigue flared in his eyes. Her answer had given too much away. He saw her long silence for what it was—consideration. He heard her terse words for what they were—confession.

Leaning closer, his gaze roved over her wary features and lingered on her lips. “That wasn’t the question,” he murmured. “Yes, or no?”

The answer haunted the tip of her tongue as her traitorous body slanted forward. “I won’t.”

“Why?”

You scare me.She shrank back not because of the things he’d done, but the possibilities of what he could do to her. What she wanted him to do to her. All the unspoken pains and pleasures and dark desires smoldering in his eyes that begged to be satisfied.

“This is…” She licked her lips, and his gaze followed the arc of her tongue. “A business relationship.”

His mouth, a whisper away, stole her breath. For a long moment she feared and hoped he would kiss her.

“Very well.” Pulling away, he cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. The embers of desire were banked as his impassive mask slid back on. “That’s sorted. Think of how much time we just saved.”

The uproar inside Cora made her think it was anything but sorted or timesaving. But the brief fantasy had burst, and reality crashed down in its place.

She flinched when he withdrew his arm. His brow creased. With a slow, deliberate motion, he reached into his pocket and handed her the Portal Key. “In case anything happens.”

She pocketed it. “Does everyone in your gang have a Portal Key to your house?”

“No, that’s the only one.”

“Don’t you need it?”

“I don’t need a fuckin’ key to get anywhere.” The Realmwalker stepped out of the car. Cold air blasted her as the door slammed shut.

She released a long breath, her composure in tatters. The moment was effectively over. In the yawning silence, she chastised herself for how easily he’d disarmed her. She’d need to be more careful. Yet, watching him round the car, a tendril of regret tugged on her. One she promptly severed.

Whateverthatwas, she was not fond of the development. She mentally laid the brickwork for more and higher walls.

Climbing out of the Bugatti, she pulled her ermine coat tight against the chill. Brisk wind hit her face like the slap she was in desperate need of. She was here to collect Teddy’s corpse, not fantasize about her boss.

Chapter 11. The Obliging Dead

While the western horizon swallowed the sun, the eastern horizon birthed a full moon. The menacing orb rose, casting a haunting luminescence over the Crossbones cemetery.

The moaning wind blew flurries around Cora as she waded through shin-deep snow to Bane. The iron gates were locked, of course. Rather than rusting the lock off and risking the suspected wards, Cora set upon it with her picks. With the nimble fingers of a street-vetted thief, she listened for the delicious snick of tumblers falling into place, picking the lock in under a minute. The gates creaked open with the protest of rusted hinges.

Mausoleums and crypts, their names lost to the march of time, rose like weathered knuckles through the blanket of snow. Smaller graves peeked through, their stones rolled out of the Thames and carved by chisel, if they’d been carved at all. There was little grandeur for the paupers interred in this unconsecrated ground.

Death was a faint current humming against her skin. The centuries-dead were peaceful. Muffled by time and stone, their names and voices had faded into obscurity. Atop a knoll, the gloomy sepulcher Teddy’s damned spirit had shown her cameinto view. A forlorn edifice, grimy from soot and neglect, the engravings were a forgotten memory.

She wouldn’t let herself think:What if Teddy isn’t there?

A sudden sense of foreboding crackled like lightning about to strike. The air was laden with the Profane.

“Stay close.” Bane interlaced their gloved fingers. “Might need to traverse away quickly.”

The slog up the knoll was grueling. Her shins seemed to find every single snow-buried headstone. Clumsy as a newborn foal, she tripped and trudged behind Bane with considerably less grace.

“Jesus, woman.” He hauled her up after she stumbled again. “Do you want to get frostbite?”

Boots soaked, teeth chattering, and frozen limbs bruised, Cora thought perhaps the numbness of frostbite would be preferable.

A woman’s bloodcurdling scream filled her ears and stopped her short. “Did you hear that?”

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