Page 44 of Panther in the Shadows
Tears burn my eyes. I blink them back.
Rafe sits up. Pulls me with him. His hands frame my face. Force me to meet his gaze.
"Listen to me. What happened to Elspeth wasn't your fault. What's happening now isn't your fault. The only person to blame is the summoner. The necromancer who's killing innocent people."
"But I?—"
"Could have done more. Should have been braver. I know." His thumb brushes away a tear that escapes. "I tell myself the same things about Diego. About my family. About every choice I made after the exile. But guilt doesn't change the past. It just poisons the present."
"Then what do we do with it?"
His expression hardens. Jaw setting. "We use it. Take all that guilt and rage and regret and channel it into stopping this ritual.Into finding the anchor. Into ending whoever's using your sister as a weapon."
"More deaths coming." The thought haunts me. "More people will die before the ritual completes. And we're no closer to finding the necromancer."
"We'll find them." Certainty colors his voice. "We hunt together now. Your magic and my muscle. Your knowledge and my resources. We'll track them down and end this."
Want to believe him. Want to share that certainty. But all I can think about is Elspeth's face watching from deep water. The child's laughter echoing in my memory. The summoner is still out there, and innocent people will keep dying until we stop them.
"Stay with me tonight." Rafe's request pulls me from dark thoughts. "Not sex. Just sleep. Let me hold you so the nightmares don't win."
"Okay."
He stands, lifts me in his arms, cradles me to his chest, and carries me to his bedroom. We fall into his bed still naked. He pulls the covers over us. Tucks me against his chest like I'm something precious.
Exhaustion pulls me under.
In the darkness behind my eyelids, Elspeth's face watches from deep water. Still laughing. Still waiting.
We have to find the necromancer before it's too late.
CHAPTER 11
RAFE
The woman in my arms breathes steady and slow, her body curved against mine like she belongs there. No light reaches my underground quarters, but my phone screen shows 6:47 AM. The world above has been awake for hours.
For the first time in years, something close to peace settles into my bones. Not satisfaction or accomplishment. Just this. Moira's hair spilling across my chest in dark waves. Her hand resting over my heart. Salt and magic clinging to her skin, mingled with my scent. Evidence of last night written in the sheets tangled around us, in the faint marks on her neck where my teeth grazed skin.
Last night wasn't supposed to happen. Tactical alliances don't include sex on my desk that leaves water streaming down the walls. But somewhere between hunting evidence and her appearing at my study door, the line between professional and personal dissolved completely.
Mine. The thought surfaces unbidden. Reckless thinking for someone who learned the hard way that claiming anything invites loss.
I trace the curve of her spine with one finger, feeling each vertebra, the dip of her lower back, the soft skin that shivers under my touch even in sleep. Her magic responds to mine even now—I feel it humming beneath her skin, salt and storm recognizing shadow and night. Power calling to power in the dark.
Moira stirs against me, consciousness returning gradually. Her fingers flex against my chest. Then she goes still—that particular stillness that means she's remembering where she is and what happened. Her breathing changes. Becomes more controlled. She's awake but not ready to face this yet.
I give her the time she needs. Don't push. Just keep that slow stroke down her spine, letting her know I'm here, I'm aware, and I'm not going anywhere.
"Morning." I keep my voice low. Non-threatening. Giving her space to process without pressure.
She lifts her head, meeting my eyes. Her hair's a mess, tangled from sleep and my hands. Sleep marks crease one cheek. Mascara smudged beneath her eyes. She's never looked more beautiful.
"Morning." The word comes out rough, sleep-hoarse. "So that actually happened."
"Want to pretend it didn't?"
"No." Quick. Certain. Then softer, vulnerable: "Do you?"
