Page 92 of Arcane Entanglement

Viggo relaxed. “As long as you’re safe.”

Evander crossed the floor and indicated the damask sofa opposite the fireplace.

“Did you find anything?” the Brute said, sitting beside him.

Evander filled him in on the discoveries at Millbrook's workshop; the hidden cylinder, the key, and the mysteriousRosa.

“The Met has no leads as to the whereabouts of Millbrook’s family,” the mage finished. “I hope your guild can help us track them down. I’m certain they’re pivotal to unravelling this mystery.”

“We’ll do what we can.Nightshadehas contacts all over the country.”

“Thank you,” Evander said softly. He hesitated. “And thank you for sending Solomon to keep an eye on me. It wasn’t necessary, but I appreciate the thought."

Something flickered in Viggo’s gaze, an emotion Evander couldn’t quite name. The Brute shifted closer, close enough that his knee brushed Evander’s leg and his intoxicating heat wrapped around him.

“I’m aware you’re a powerful Archmage, but I can’t stop worrying about you.” He took Evander’s chin in a gentle hold and traced his lips with his thumb, his gaze so intense Evander’s toes almost curled. “I doubt this fear of mine will ever go away, however long this lasts.” Viggo paused, his eyes glittering with heat. “I, for one, hope it lasts a long, long time.”

The admission, so plainly stated, sent a shiver down Evander’s spine and roused his heart. The air between them ignited with an attraction that threatened to rob him of his senses.

“Viggo—”

Whatever Evander had been about to say was lost in the Brute’s searing kiss. He melted into his embrace with a soft groan, his hands rising to tangle in Viggo's hair.

The kiss was everything Evander had imagined and more. Passionate, savage, with an underlying tenderness that made his heart ache. He lost himself in the sensation. In the feel of Viggo's strong arms around him. In the heady taste of him on his tongue.

They broke apart only when the need for air became too great, both of them panting and trembling. Evander tugged Viggo down for another hungry kiss, only to freeze when a strangled sound came from the doorway.

Mrs. Sinclair stood there, a tea tray in her hands and an expression of utter shock on her face.

Hargrove popped his head around the door.

“I knew it!” the manservant hissed with undisguised glee. “He’s shagging the Ironfist Brute!”

Viggo’s jaw dropped open. He snorted in the next instant.

Mrs. Sinclair’s face turned an unhealthy hue as she cut her eyes to Hargrove.

The manservant sobered.

“I beg your pardon, my Lord,” the housekeeper said stiffly, her gaze flitting to Viggo. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Evander flushed, wishing a hole would appear in the floor and swallow him whole.

“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Sinclair,” he managed. “You can leave the tea and go.”

Mrs. Sinclair came in and set the tray down next to the sofa. She dipped her head courteously at Viggo.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stonewall. Our young Samuel is very much enamoured with your achievements.” Her expression grew cautious. “I hope you and his Grace continue to get along.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” Viggo smiled faintly. “And yes, I fully intend to do so.”

Whatever the housekeeper saw in the Brute’s face made relief gleam in her eyes. She exited the study with Hargrove, but not before the manservant released a parting shot under his breath.

“Well, I suppose that’s one way to blow off steam. Ride the biggest one-eyed snake in London.”

“Mr. Hargrove!” Mrs. Sinclair snapped.

The door closed on the housekeeper berating the manservant in a low voice full of ire.