Page 33 of Glimmer and Burn (Unity #1)

Chapter Nine

W atchmen Headquarters sat in a hulking building connecting a Garrison cathedral and a Sanctuary hostel.

On one side, the cathedral with stained glass and elaborate carvings of the Divine while the hostel had subdued dark stone and no windows.

Patrons came and went at their leisure, but not from the cathedral.

Thralls and blood donors used the hostel as a gathering place or to, occasionally, interact with their hosts on more neutral territory.

Devin held the door for Miranda. His eyes followed her incredible figure as she passed, her attention too focused on their surroundings to notice.

The door swung closed behind him as he paused to admire her silhouette against the ambient lighting.

It was dim, but the heavy shadows made her all the more tantalizing.

He was merely biding time. Her only salvation would be to resist him, which, for her sake, would be the wiser course.

But if she did not.

His gaze grew dark. Focused.

A sprawling interior expanded before them, the main chamber open to high ceilings with sectioned rooms and offices acting as a perimeter on the upper floors.

It was tiered, with levels of cubicles and desks scattered or in rows, there was no observable pattern he could detect.

The moon shone through elongated windows rising high into the rafters, with streetlamps set up in a grid-like system for extra light.

There was an industrial feel with brick and metal utilized in unique or practical ways offset by the scattering of thrift-style furniture.

Pipe work holding rustic planks and stacks of books directly beside worn, whitewashed shelves or rusted filing cabinets.

At this time of night, the place was nearly empty.

The noise and bustle had to be spectacular during the day.

A secretary sat near the entrance and looked up from a book as they entered, hidden behind protective glass, he had to lift a vent to be heard.

“Can I help you?”

Devin tore his eyes from Miranda. “Is Blair still here?”

A nametag read Jones, who shook his head. “He went out about an hour ago. Can I take a message?”

“What about Rachel Stone?”

“Ah, yeah, she’s still here.” Jones’s smile was strained. “She’s always here late.” Devin would bet anything that Gideon had slipped out drinking or to charm some woman into lowering her standards for a night, leaving Rachel to clean up whatever mess he left behind.

“We’re old friends,” Devin continued, “Could you tell her Drake is here?”

Jones considered, then with a long sigh he rose and headed past the barricade intended to keep civilians out.

“Where do you know Rachel?” Miranda asked, her tone uncharacteristically casual. She didn’t meet his eyes.

“We served together.” Was she jealous? His grin was predatory.

“Oh.” Her words were clipped.

Devin drew closer, though he made sure to keep careful distance as he crossed his arms. “Do I detect jealousy?”

Her eyes snapped to him, burning straight into his soul. Infernal take him, he was half hard already.

“Of course not,” she defended, though it was much too forceful to be true.

“Jealous or not, Rachel is merely an old friend. I assure you, she has more interest in proper table settings than she does in me and she abhors frivolous rituals. So there’s no need to worry.

” He took another step, encroaching on her territory as he leaned in to whisper, “I am entirely yours, Mira.”

She pushed his shoulder—the bad one—and he reeled. Pain hissed from his mouth. “Please. You’re dreaming if you think you can charm me into letting my better judgment slip again. I told you, that was a singular mistake that I won’t make twice.”

The pain had done wonders to cool his ardor, though he was hardly out of the game yet.

She looked away. “But…sorry. I forgot about your shoulder.”

He rotated his arm, but it still throbbed. “Who said I was trying to charm you?” He met her stare, grinning as her jaw fell open. “Mira, I will make you a promise, I’ll not push or pressure you into anything you’re unwilling to do. No more riling you. No more goading.”

She raised her chin. Her tell that this was more bravado than anything else. She was a goner.

“Perfect. Thank you.”

“However,” he continued, eyes dangerous and his voice saturated in unbridled intent, “Should you give me even the smallest indication that you want me to continue, should you attempt to push at boundaries, know that I will no longer be exercising restraint.” Her eyes grew wide, her teeth sucking in her bottom lip.

“I will not hold back.” He watched her thighs rub together, just the barest hint of movement, but it was more than enough.

“And I will not stop until you are entirely spent.”

She swallowed, drawing his eyes to her throat.

He could hear Jones returning and his smile shifted to a jovial grin, his sinful focus masked behind a chipper veneer.

“Yeah, she’ll see you.” Jones unlocked the door to allow them through. “Up the first stairs on the right, she’s in the Captain’s office.”

Devin’s tone was bright and airy as he gestured with a bow. “After you, Miss Wilde.”

She did not move for several moments.

“Is there a problem, Miss Wilde?” He pressed. “Anything you wish to request, perhaps?” Her eyes rounded on him as she stalked forward and he raised his arms in submission. “Only an innocent inquiry, I assure you.”

He followed her through the door.

Inside Captain Blair’s office was a blonde woman with pale skin and sharp blue eyes who was grumbling as she shuffled amidst a sea of papers, garbage, and various clutter.

“Rachel, he does not deserve you,” Devin started, fixing himself in the doorway to lean against the frame.

Miranda was not sure what to make of the new I’ll-not-tempt-you Devin.

She was wary, of course, because he was an ass who tended to be his own worst enemy.

But his apology at her house had felt real and, while she had bristled and sneered, she’d believed him.

She was beginning to see new facets and depth that peeked through whenever his defenses were down.

The romantic whose hands stroked her arm and asked if she was alright.

The honor hidden beneath swagger when he’d waited for permission before testing a boundary. And the pain he worked so hard to hide.

Still, while his promise had sounded genuine, she knew he intended his choice of words to lure her back into his arms. He made the offer thrilling, enticing, and hard to resist. And while the sensible voice in her head had cheered at his promise to behave, her body had purred.

Hummed. She felt his words in places she now knew could be so exquisitely pleasurable.

It might not have worked, except that she very much wanted to be lured.

He had not made a single comment on the walk up here and his eyes—which she had felt crawling over her skin like a trail of fire since leaving her house—had not once wavered. But did she dare tempt him ? Did she dare test his promise to not hold back?

Miranda pulled her eyes away from Devin with a sigh.

Did she dare risk falling deeper?

“Hello to you to, Devin. And I’m not cleaning after him.

This,” Miss Stone hands righted a stack of uneven, lopsided papers.

“Is his mess and he can get himself out of it. It’s not my business.

I’m just looking for my report on the recent Night Hawk sightings, which he was supposed to review two weeks ago, and now I have another three pages to add.

” She took a deep breath. Her hair was done in a simple bun, a style women could do without a maid and the soft blonde color matched the paler hue of her blue eyes.

She had a calm presence, reassuring. Miranda liked her instantly.

“Oh,” she stopped her search of the desk when she noticed Miranda. “New friend?”

“This is Miranda Wilde,” Devin introduced and Rachel’s eyebrow shot up. “Yes, of those Wilde’s.”

“Cordelia is my sister,” Miranda clarified.

Miss Stone gave her a sympathetic nod. “My condolences, or,” She turned to Devin, “Does she know?’

“It no longer matters,” Miranda pressed forward before Devin could answer. “The marriage will not take place, so, that is the end of it.”

Devin shot her a look, clearly thrown by the little detail she had neglected to mention, but in her defense he had hardly left her the space for it.

“Then why on earth are you here?” He directed the accusation at Miranda.

Miranda sighed. “I’m here for me. I lived my entire life preparing for a fight I was never meant to see. My sister may be free, but the city is not.”

Miss Stone shook her head. “You’re talking about Graves?” Her face remained impassive, the only hint to her feelings on the subject pointed to exhaustion, more than anger. “You roped her into your vendetta?”

Devin frowned. “I hardly roped her, she was insistent.”

“Please, the pair of you sound as bad as Gideon.” Miss Stone pushed around the desk, collecting garbage on the way and tossing it in a bin.

She motioned toward the wall, where it wasn’t in view of the open windows.

A giant map of the city took up most of it, each line and street labeled or covered with pinned pictures and scribbled notes.

“Gideon’s ‘idea’ board. But it never gets anywhere. ”

She set her hands on her hips. Dressed in a Watchmen uniform, though she had removed the jacket and rolled up the sleeves on the black undershirt, Miss Stone exuded a unique femininity Miranda could relate to, though not common where Miranda grew up.

A femininity that stemmed from assurance and physicality.

From knowing that she was a woman who could handle herself.

“He has all this and still has not found a way to put Graves away?” Miranda took in the board, feeling a little sick. This looked like years of work and study. What if her evidence wasn’t enough?