Page 68 of Bound
Love.
Not just the power of a consort bond. But real, once-in-a-fucking-lifetime love.
“I’m not saying Amoret is that for you, Gage,” he admits, his tone lowering into gruffness. He gives me a small shake. “But it’s been twenty years since you were even with another of your kind. She can handle the fire, man. So why are you waiting?”
My head jerks up, meeting his gaze levelly.
The thrum of my heart is audible to his sensitive hearing. But he doesn’t say a fucking word. He gives my arm a strong squeeze. “I know the timing is shitty, but I need you on this case, Gage.”
“And if I hurt her?” I ask, hating each word as it leaves my lips. “Not with my fire, but as a man?”
His smile is all fang. “Some women like a little roughness, and considering how she climbed your stupid ass earlier, I don’t think you have much to worry about.”
Under the blaze of my fire, I had sensed little of the world around me, but I remember her touch. The tentative press of her lips, how eager she had seemed.
“Do whatever you have to do to come back to us.” He turns on his heel and starts over the dunes. “And that’s an order.
I skid to a stop on the dim stretch of beach and walk down the footprint laden pathway toward the others.
The body is visible just outside the darker portion of sand, and I know it washed up immediately. The near blue-gray tinge to the skin does not help that assessment.
Tanner prowls around the body, his silver eyes glittering. “I can’t smell a fucking thing but decomp and water.”
“It’s a dead body that was in the channel, jackass,” I say, trying for light and falling miles too short. “Good thing you’re a cat and not a fucking detective.”
He turns his luminous gaze in my direction. I wait. One corner of his mouth curves upward. “I know a dead body isn’t supposed to be in the fucking water,” he quips.
I exhale as soft as I can.
We’re good, at least.
“What gave it away?” I jab back, walking closer.
Caine tosses another crimson orb into the air above the body, illuminating the sand in a wide berth. I don’t add my fire to the mix.
May be a bit too soon for that one.
I crouch near one swollen foot. “No markings though. Not like the other one.” I glance up at the demon. “Can you lift him? Roll him over?”
Caine scoffs. “Can I—”
“Caine,” Ruin barks. “Sooner rather than later.”
The demon grumbles, but the mischievous light in his eyes never fades. He weaves his hands, sparks of magick unfurling over the sand until it cradles the body in a basin of demon fire. With agonizing speed, he lifts the body and turns it.
I hold my hand up. “Far enough,” I mutter, scuttling around to see the back line better. “Hold what you got.”
A long laceration scrolls down the spine, from the nape of the neck to the tail bone. It’s the only distinguishing mark.
Cause of death?
I point. “See this?”
Ruin steps into my peripheral. “Theories?”
“Not magick related. Not that I can tell. Amoret may confirm that.” At her name, Horan shifts across from me, his gaze locked somewhere above my head.
I frown.
