Page 59 of A Skirl of Sorcery
‘You were a fucking child!’
‘Maybe I provoked him. Maybe I should have been better behaved. Maybe he was trying to teach me to be strong.’
‘Thane—’
He held up a hand and I quietened. ‘I think the truth is that he did it for no other reason than because he could. My mother was busy with pack business, my dad was already gone, the Barrow wolves were in real trouble. There was every chance that one of the larger packs would try to gain control. As a pack, we’d have ceased to exist.’
I snorted. ‘That’s no excuse.’ I held his gaze. ‘I’m glad you killed him.’ I meant it.
An odd light was reflected in Thane’s green eyes. ‘That’s the thing, Kit,’ he said starkly. ‘I don’t remember killing him. It must have been me – I hated him enough to do it, and I was strong enough. But I don’t know if I stabbed him because my memory of that whole day is a blank.’
‘You’re saying that it mightnothave been you?’ I said slowly. ‘Someone else might be responsible?’ It was a given across Coldstream that Thane Barrow had killed his uncle twenty-seven years ago when he was only fifteen years old. Nobody had ever questioned it – hell,I’d never questioned it and I was well aware of the link between trauma and amnesia.
‘It must have been me. I had motive, opportunity and ability.’ He hesitated. ‘But sometimes I wonder.’
I bet he bloody did.
‘I’ve never told anyone else outside my own family that I don’t remember what happened. My own pack believed I’d killed him so why would anyone else listen to me?’
‘I’m listening,’ I whispered.
‘I know. I trust you. More than anything.’
We stood there looking at each other, half naked. It wasn’t the lack of clothes that made us vulnerable, it was us. I allowed the moment to draw out then I straightened my shoulders and moved towards him.
I dipped my head towards the bullet-wound scar and kissed it gently, then moved to his back and did the same with cross-hatched shadows of old pain, trailing my fingers and my lips across every raised line. I felt Thane’s body tremble but I didn’t stop. Eventually my mouth reached the first one, the long thin scar that was seared into Thane’s memory. It was more than a foot long and I kissed every inch of it.
I would give him something new to remember.
‘Kit.’ His voice was hoarse.
‘Is it too much?’
He answered immediately. ‘No.’
I smiled and moved so I was facing him again. ‘Good,’ I said. I started to unzip my jeans. ‘Because I’m just getting started.’
Chapter
Twenty-Four
It would have been lovely to luxuriate for several lazy hours against Thane’s warmth. We could have gone for another round of mind-blowing sex and, with growing confidence in each other’s bodies and reactions, it would have been even more pleasurable. It would have been equally wonderful to make a delicious breakfast together. I could have popped plump sweet strawberries into his mouth while he flipped pancakes on the stove. We could have gazed into each other’s eyes over steaming cups of delightfully bitter coffee.
Naturally, none of those things happened because there wasn’t time. We only dozed through the first few golden fingers of dawn before both of us got up with impressive alacrity.
The only cat pleased by the early rising was Tiddles; there were distinct rumbles of disquiet from all five of my moggies – even from He Who Roams Wide, who had been taking advantage of having two warm bodies to snuggle beside. My furry bunch were older cats who appreciated a lie-in, but not Tiddles. She began miaowing for her breakfast in earnest before I’d even stood up.
Thane groaned and rubbed his head. ‘Ten minutes,’ he promised her. ‘Breakfast in ten minutes. Let me sort myself out first.’
Tiddles swiped a paw at my foot as if the delay was all my fault. I didn’t take offence; she was a one-man cat and I respected her for that. But I did dart for the shower before she decided to swipe at me again.
Although I didn’t want to waste any time, I took longer getting ready than usual. Today I wasn’t a cat lady, today I was a dark assassin and I had to prepare accordingly. Unfortunately I hadn’t counted on Dave dropping by for coffee and to give us an update on Keres’ condition.
He was already in the kitchen with Thane when I strolled in. The look in Dave’s eyes when he saw me wasn’t one I’d seen before. His gaze travelled from my tightly bound hair, with the lethally sharp clips holding each purple curl in place, to my skin-tight, flame-retardant, moisture-wicking, black T-shirt and trousers.
Then he noticed the leather straps encircling my biceps that held the smaller pieces of equipment I might need. There was a bulge where my favourite curved dagger snuggled against my spine and another where a small handgun nestled against my left calf. Jet-black trainers with tiny, concealed compartments in their rubber soles encased my feet.
Dave was used to seeing me dressed in colourful loose-fitting clothing covered in cat hair. This was definitely a departure as far as he was concerned.
