Page 41

“Okay, darling.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead and smoothed his blanket. After turning off the lights, she followed Liam into the hallway.

Liam tookone look at Vivian’s too-pale expression and gripped her chin, growling, “You shared a vein with him?” The idea bothered him far more than it should.

“That’s none of your business.” She brushed his hand away, then set off down the hallway, leaving him to follow. Halfway to her room, she lost her balance and careened into the wall, barely catching herself.

“Dammit, woman.” He circled her waist and swept her into his arms. “Come on. Let’s get you off your feet.”

“I’m—”

“Being a stubborn pain in my ass. Now don’t give me any lip.”

Even the weight of her slight frame had his abused shoulder throbbing in protest. Holding that gate had flared up an old injury. Seemed every joint in his body was aching tonight. No doubt about it, he was getting too old for this shit.

Which was exactly why he wasfucking retired.

When Vivian called in his debt, he figured they’d hook up. He’d screw her brains out for two weeks and be on his way. Mages, hellhounds, and magisters were not part of that deal.

As if that wasn’t enough, the female was messing with his mind. During the attack, she’d had an easy out. All she had to do was get in the magister’s car, and she’d be home-free. Instead, she’d run straight into danger trying to save his ass. In that moment, Vivian flipped his world upside down and shook it like a snow globe. Top was bottom. Bottom was top. His head was a freaking mess.

Over the years, he’d come to see Vivian as others did, as the Black Widow. Frigid, domineering, materialistic. Things between them were simple that way. Then she started showing him signs. Signs that reminded him of the woman he once knew. Signs the vivacious dancer who was bold, brave, and selfless was still in there. Buried deep, afraid to reveal herself. Except with the people she trusted, like Armond and Dove. And now…Liam.

He knew this because of that moment.Damn her.That moment in the sedan. That moment before the ceremony where she’d been vulnerable. In that moment, she’d leaned on him.

On me.

Trusted me.

Not in a physical way, but in a way that went deeper. Why would she trust him when her sensitive underbelly was exposed? Everyone who knew him understood he was a callous prick. No one in their right mind would trust him when their guard was down.

As though she picked up on his frustration, she settled against him, going soft and accepting his help instead of arguing. Top bottom. Bottom top.

Dammit if he didn’t find himself holding her closer, protective urges stirring at his core. Fucking Alistair. The thought of what Vivian might have suffered at the mage’s hands all those years made him sick. For some reason, he felt responsible, like he should have known, should have seen it in her eyes. Maybe he did, but he was so busy avoiding her, he didn’t look deep enough. Now the mage was back, risen from the grave, and he wanted Viv.

Well, he can’t have her.

She’s mine.

Liam shook his head. Where the hell did that thought come from? Just another side effect of Vivian screwing with his melon. Top. Bottom. Gods, he needed to get out of here.

That’s why they needed to talk. Once he had her free of this shit, his conscience would be clear, and he could walk away knowing he did right by her. With what was left of his debt, there was plenty of time to get a handle on Alistair. Second the job was done, Liam was heading back to his bar.

With that thought in mind, he strode to the center of her room and set her on her feet, a bit too roughly, given the squawk she uttered.

Quick to recover, she propped a hand on her hip and sliced him a glare. “Thanks. You are ever the gentleman,” she deadpanned. Before checking on her progeny, she’d showered and changed into a full-length nightgown with long slits that ran up her legs. Unfortunately, Liam couldn’t tell what the rest of it looked like beneath the black-and-silver kimono she wore.

“Whiskey?” Liam asked, heading for the crystal decanter.

“Depends on what you want to talk about.” She settled into a velveteen chair by the fireplace.

“Whiskey,” he stated, bringing her a glass. She’d need it once she saw what he had in his pocket. “Soren intercepted a box of lilies at the gate.” He handed her the card before settling into the chair across from her.

She read it out loud, “Return what you’ve stolen, or this is just the beginning.” She crumpled the message in her clenched fist. “Fool. Does he think I will so easily surrender?”

“You want to explain to me what he’s talking about? What’s this thing he believes you’ve stolen?”

“I’ve taken nothing from him that wasn’t rightfully mine.” She tossed the crumpled ball into the fireplace. “This is merely the ramblings of a madman.”

The way she avoided Liam’s eyes said she was hiding something. “You sure about that?” He arched a brow. “It would be a lot easier for me to keep you safe if I knew what I was dealing with.”