Page 15

CHAPTER 14

T he robe is soft, and despite the fact that I’m naked under it, I sit cross-legged on the sofa, looking out of the windows beyond.

“Here,” Shamus says, and I accept the mug, warming myself as he sits heavily on the other sofa.

“How are your wounds?” I ask.

He arches a brow, blowing over his own coffee. He’s still shirtless, with some sort of herb mixture slicked down his back, and I try, I really do, not to look at his torso, but it’s hard.

He’s built with muscles meant for use, not just display. He’s thick and strong. “Better,” is all he says as he takes a sip.

I copy him, and when there’s a slurping sound, we both turn to see Ronan trying to drink from a mug. The liquid slides through him to the floor below.

“Is that a puppy pad?” I ask.

“He insists on trying to drink it every single day, and I got sick of cleaning it up,” Shamus answers, a blush staining his cheeks.

“I miss coffee,” Ronan grumbles.

The fae isn’t here. Maybe I should be worried, but Shamus doesn’t seem to be, so I relax. Besides, without his constant flirting, I can relax a little. There’s been too much otherworldly craziness these last few days, and this feels normal.

Well, as normal as it gets with your commanding officer and a ghost trying to drink coffee and basically pissing it onto a puppy pad.

“Can’t you just solidify and drink it?” I ask curiously.

“I can, but, well, ghosts don’t go to the toilet, and I have to rid myself of it straight away, so it seems like a waste,” he mutters, eyeing the cup sadly. “Oh, sweet nectar of the gods, how I miss thee.”

“Right.” I blink and look at Shamus. “So where is that backstabbing bastard, Black? I’m not wasting any more time. I want the fucker to suffer and then die.”

Shamus sips his coffee as he watches me. “I know you want revenge, Tate,” he says, and hearing my full name makes me sit up taller. “Before you say anything, I am not stopping you, no. I would never be that foolish, but what I am suggesting is a smarter plan than running off after him alone. You need a new team, people who have your back. Black is ruthless and capable, you know that. You cannot take him down alone.”

“What do you suggest? No hunter will go against Black’s unit. That leaves us with no one. Or what? I keep collecting monsters since I already have a fae and a ghost?” I scoff angrily.

“Hey!” Ronan protests, but we both ignore him.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Shamus muses. “If you want to go up against evil, then use evil. I have a feeling that before this is through, it will be more than your hands that are bloody. If you want to defeat Black and your old team, then find others to fight with you.”

“Who would be crazy enough to stand with me against elite hunters?”

Shamus stands and turns as he goes to walk away. “Those they hunt, of course.”

Sipping my coffee, I think on his words. Although I’m a hunter, I’ve made it my mission not only to foster relationships with those other hunters consider monsters, but to keep them safe. If they haven’t committed crimes, then they aren’t my enemy, and in fact many of them are my friends. Like most, though, they hide from hunters, trying to avoid detection.

It would be a death sentence for them to actively seek out hunters and kill them, and for most, their people wouldn’t allow it.

Who would be crazy enough to stand with a hunter against other hunters?

No, his plan won’t work. I need Black’s location.

“Hey, Tate.” I glance over at Ronan, who’s still holding his mug. “Go easy on him. He might not act like it, but that fae punishment almost killed him.”

Pursing my lips, I eye Ronan once more. “You’re trying to protect him from me? Him of all people? He’s the fucking stalker, and he owns most of the hunting guild?—”

“And he is still a man. You know better than most how easily power can be taken away and those around you can turn on you. Shamus has been in this game a long time, and he’s had a lot of daggers in his back, so please, don’t be one of them.”

“Why’d he come for me and sacrifice himself?” I ask.

Ronan’s smile is small and filled with knowledge. “You’ll have to ask him that yourself.” He nods at the door. “Go on, I won’t stop you.”

“Bloody ghosts,” I mutter as I stand and head to where Shamus disappeared. I rip the bedroom door open, suddenly realising why Ronan was so happy. Shamus is in the bathroom, so he thinks I’ll chicken out. He doesn’t know me very well then.

Storming into the bathroom, I hop up on the counter as steam wafts around the room. Shamus turns to me, his mouth dropping open before he rolls his eyes and continues to scrub at his hair, both of us ignoring the fact he is naked.

“Just tell me where Black is,” I demand.

“So you can run after him half-cocked and get yourself killed?” He stares at me. “No.” He sticks his head under the spray, ignoring me.

“I won’t get killed. I can take them?—”

“Do not be foolish,” Shamus snaps. “You are smarter than that. Either they will find you are gone, know you are alive, and be expecting it or they will be on high alert. Either way, you die. Isn’t suffering by their hands once enough? This time you must be smarter than them. You might not like it, but deep down, you know I’m right. You’re a hunter, Tate, one of the best, but hunters work in teams for a reason. You want to torture and kill Black’s entire team? Fine by me, I’ll champion it, but do it with a team.”

“What is your obsession with me dying?” I snap. “Hunters die every day. I’m no different?—”

“You aren’t allowed to die, is that understood?” His voice is low and cold.

We stare at each other for a moment, and I’m unsure what to say. I know this is my moment to ask why he saved me, why I’m important to him, but I chicken out, and he turns away, scrubbing at his body. I watch him for a moment.

Is he right? Am I blinded by hatred?

My old team is the best for a reason. Even though I know I might not make it back if I go alone, it’s a risk I’m willing to take as long as it wipes them from the earth. Apparently, it is not a risk my commander is willing to take, however.

My gaze drops to his ass for a split second, but when I look up, he’s peering at me with knowing eyes. “Fine, I’ll find the fae and think on it,” I mutter as I drop off the counter, but his voice stops me at the door.

“Running away from what you want, angel?” he purrs, sending a shiver of need through me.

Shamus is attractive and he knows it, but he’s also a whole bag of complicated and someone I thought hated me until very recently.

I guess my radars are all out of whack.

Turning, I storm up to the shower and step inside with him. Water sprays down on my robe and hair, soaking me to the bone, but I ignore it, pressing against him. His eyes flare, and I feel his hard cock press against my stomach as I lean up on my tiptoes. Just when he thinks I’m about to kiss him, I move to his ear.

“I never run. If I wanted you, Shamus, I would have you.” Dropping to my heels, I step back with a smirk, purposely running my eyes down every inch of his body and back up to his. “You’re not my type.”

His hand captures me before I can leave. He pulls me back until I’m pressed to his front, his warm breath brushing my ear as his hand glides up my robe and cups my cunt. “Liar, angel,” he taunts as he squeezes me. I know I’m fucking wet. Fighting him and the sight of his body did it to me. The fucker. I elbow him, and he grunts as he hits the wall.

“Don’t worry, I can take care of myself or find someone else to.” I step from the shower, and undoing the sodden robe, I drop it to the floor with a wet squelch, then I walk naked from his bathroom, feeling his eyes on me the entire time.