Page 39 of Panther in the Shadows
I leave the guest room anyway.
The guest room and his bedroom bookend the space, with the study between them. Light spills from under that door.
I knock softly. "Rafe?"
"Come in."
He sits behind a massive desk covered in evidence bags, photographs, maps. The ritual markers spread out like accusation. His shirt sleeves are rolled up. Dark hair falls across his forehead. Those amber eyes track me as I close the door behind me.
"Can't sleep?" His voice carries no judgment. Just understanding.
"Every time I close my eyes, I see her. See all of them. The man we couldn't save. Elspeth laughing. All those deaths building toward something we can't stop." I move deeper into the room. "What about you?"
"Same." He gestures at the evidence. "Thought maybe if I looked at it long enough, something would click. Some pattern we're missing."
"Any luck?"
"None."
The space between us feels charged. Electric. Like standing too close to lightning about to strike.
"We should get some rest," I say. "Can't hunt a necromancer if we're both exhausted."
"Probably." He doesn't move. Just watches me with predatory stillness. "Is that why you came in here? To tell me to sleep?"
"No." The admission costs me. "I came because I couldn't stand being alone with my thoughts anymore. Because the only thing worse than seeing Elspeth's face is seeing yours and knowing I pushed you away when what I really wanted was?—"
"Was what?"
The air between us thickens. Charges.
"This."
I close the distance. Circle the desk. His chair turns to face me as I approach. He never looks away.
"Moira." My name carries warning. "You were clear earlier. You don't want this. Don't want the complication."
"I was scared earlier." Close enough to touch now. "I'm still scared. But I'm more scared of what happens if I don't do this. If I let fear make my choices again."
"And what exactly is 'this'?"
"Honestly? I have no idea." Truth tastes like salt on my tongue. "I just know that when you kissed me, I felt something besides grief for the first time in ten years. And when I see you, I want things I haven't let myself want since Gran died."
He stands slowly. Deliberate. The movement brings him close enough that his body heat wraps around me. His scent surrounds me.
"Tell me what you want." His voice drops lower. Rougher. "Be specific."
My pulse hammers in my throat. "You. I want you. However I can have you. Even if it's just tonight. Even if it's complicated and messy and probably a terrible idea."
"It's definitely a terrible idea." His hand comes up to cup my jaw. Thumb brushing across my lower lip. "But I stopped making good decisions the moment the summoner left blood on your doorstep."
He kisses me.
This time there's control behind the hunger. His mouth moves against mine with deliberate intent, coaxing rather than demanding. Testing. Learning what makes my breath catch, what makes me lean into him. When his tongue slides against mine, it's a question I answer by fisting my hands in his shirt.
Heat builds slowly. Different from the desperate clash earlier tonight. This is a choice we're both making with clear heads and open eyes.
My hands slide up his chest, over his shoulders, fingers threading into the hair at his nape. The sound he makes vibrates against my mouth. Low. Rough. Want condensed into a single note that echoes through my body and settles between my thighs.
