Page 12 of Undercover Shadow
Despite everything, Tag’s mouth quirked. “You’re underselling the place’s ambiance. We’ve got heat in about half the rooms and a generator that might last the week if we’re lucky.”
“Sounds about right. The chimney in the library smokes if the wind is from the north, and whatever you do, don’t trust the third step from the top on the servants’ stairs. How’s Nightingale? Is she surviving the Dunravin hospitality?”
Tag’s eyes flicked to me. “She’s…adapting. Any updates?”
“The storm is getting worse. The news outlets are calling it a once-in-a-generation event. You’re looking at a week minimum, possibly longer. Several roads are already compromised—some are completely washed out. Even helicopter extraction would bedicey until this passes, since winds are gusting at ninety miles per hour.”
“Copy that,” Tag said before ending the call.
A week. Possibly longer? How in the hell would I get through it?
Silence stretched between us, broken only by the rattling windows and the rain hammering stone. Tag picked up his mug and set it in the sink. His back was to me, but I could see how his knuckles had turned white with how hard he gripped the edge of the counter.
“We need to establish clear boundaries. Professional boundaries.”
He turned to face me, but his eyes focused somewhere over my shoulder. “Last night, sharing the bed—that was about survival, nothing more. It can’t happen again. I’ll take the room across the hall tonight. We should set up a schedule so we’re not…” His jaw tightened. “So we’re not in each other’s way unnecessarily. We’ll need to conserve fuel for the generator anyway, so coordinating our movements makes sense.”
The clinical tone in his voice, the way he couldn’t even look at me—as if this morning when we’d woken tangled together meant nothing, as if taking my hand moments ago hadn’t happened—told me everything I needed to know about where I stood with him.
“Sorry, I need to…” I pushed away from the table and headed for the stairs, needing distance before I said more I’d regret. Not about Idris. About him and how much it hurt that he was planning our week like we were strangers who needed to avoid each other.
My emotions were raw enough from all I’d confessed. I couldn’t deal with more right now. I needed space. Time to think. Maybe confiding in him was a mistake. One of the biggest of my life.
“Leila, wait?—”
I took the stairs two at a time, but partway up, my foot caught the edge of a worn step. The stone crumbled under my boot. I pitched forward, hands scrambling for the banister that was too far to reach. The momentum carried me sideways toward the steep drop.
My shoulder hit the steps, then my hip scraped against the wall. The world spun. Four steps, five?—
Strong arms caught me, and Tag’s body absorbed my impact as we both continued falling. He’d managed to turn us so his back took the brunt of it. His arms locked around me as we slid to a stop at the landing.
“Christ, Leila.” His voice was rough against my ear, his chest heaving beneath me. “Are you hurt?”
I couldn’t respond. Not because of pain—though my shoulder throbbed and my hip would definitely bruise—but because of how tightly he held me. Like I might disappear. Like he actually cared.
His hands moved over me, checking for injuries. “Your shoulder?—”
“I’m fine.” My voice came out shakier than intended.
“You could have broken your neck.” His words were fierce, almost angry, but his arms didn’t loosen. If anything, they tightened. “These stairs are ancient?—”
“I said I’m fine.”
We were sprawled on the floor, with me on top of him. His heartbeat hammered against my chest, and his hands stilled on my waist. When I lifted my head, he looked like he was in shock.
“You caught me,” I said stupidly.
“Always.” The unguarded word came out raw, and his hand moved to my face. His thumb brushed along my cheekbone where I’d scraped it against the wall. “I’ll always catch you.”
“Tag,” I whispered.
Something shifted in his eyes—a decision made in an instant. His hand slid into my hair, and he pulled me closer, or maybe I was the one to do it, then again, perhaps we met in the middle. But his mouth found mine, and three years of wanting exploded between us.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was frantic and impassioned, with everything we’d been denying poured into it. His other arm wrapped around my waist, holding me against him as his mouth devoured mine. My hands gripped his shoulders as I kissed him with equal fervor.
When we finally broke apart, I stared into his eyes that were black with desire. For a heartbeat, the truth lay bare between us, then reality crashed in. His walls rebuilt, and I saw the instant he remembered all the reasons why this couldn’t happen. His hands dropped away after he helped me sit up.
“We should—” His voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat, tried again. “We should, um, make sure you’re okay.”
