Page 47 of Glimmer and Burn (Unity #1)

“Now, I’m going to let you go and work the rope from here to lower you down,” he continued. “Is your mother ready?” Devin asked over his shoulder.

Miranda leaned over the rail and found her mother just as she pulled a blade free of an enforcer’s shoulder, kicking at the body so it rolled into two more attempting to rush her.

With a sharp whistle, Miranda signaled her mother and Lady Wilde moved until her fight was beneath them. She sheathed one of her swords so she could grab the lower end of the rope and defend the area.

“Ready, Cordelia?” Devin asked.

Cordelia nodded, stars shimmering in the soft brown of her gaze.

Miranda rolled her eyes. He wasn’t that charming.

Devin eased Cordelia away from the railing and supported her weight with the other end of the rope. Hand over hand he lowered her to the ground. Miranda glanced past him, noting the incoming enforcers.

“I’ll cover you,” she said, getting into position.

Her sword was still lodged in the floor somewhere and her metal stick would not hold out much longer, but she had the advantage of skill.

As she met the first line of enforcers, Miranda deflected blows and concentrated her own strikes on breaking their footing. She was winded after a minute, each block or maneuver requiring much more effort than she was used to, given their strength.

“Is she clear?” Miranda yelled, panting as she leaned on the railing to brace as she kicked out at an enforcer’s chest. It barely made them stagger.

There was a pause before Devin answered, “Yes, your mother has her.”

Miranda heaved a sigh of relief, then she made a tactical retreat.

She grabbed Devin’s arm and dragged him behind her, racing for a path that wasn’t full of enemies.

“I thought you went after Graves,” she said, searching for a way to the bottom floor. All the stairs were either blocked or guarded, but there was a tower of crates that was high enough for them to land on and probably survive.

“It was tempting,” he said, taking her hand as they leapt over the railing and landed on the tower.

They broke straight through the top crate, wood splinters exploding around them. Devin brushed slivers from his hair as he added, “But I managed to signal Gideon instead.”

She got to her feet, climbing down the rest of the tower. When they reached the bottom, Devin straightened and his eyes snapped to her. She felt his stare in the awkward, stuttering beat of her heart.

“And then you came back?” she asked.

“I knew you’d be lost without me.”

She wasn’t even angry at the quip, because he had come back and he’d helped save her sister, instead of revenge. It was too chaotic to put into words how that made her feel, but it was significant. The warm, overpowering sensation in her chest told her that much.

Now that they were on the ground floor, there was ample cover and plenty of debris to arm themselves. They ducked into the first in-tact, sheltered area they found to regroup.

“The door is several feet to my left,” she said as she fished around for a weapon. “With luck, Gideon will already be there.”

This must have been a supply area, it was full of cleaning solutions and overstocked containers.

Miranda fished around the shelves, stopping when she reached the corner. Among the brooms, mops, and dusting tools was a shovel and a crowbar. She held them up. “What’s your preference?”

“The crowbar,” Devin said and when she tossed it, he caught it with an unnecessary flourish. “Shall we?”

Electric excitement coursed through Miranda, more than simple adrenaline. Her sister was safe, the mission nearly completed, Graves may have escaped but by the time they were done all his work would be evidence, which left her freer and lighter than she’d been able to feel in months.

Devin’s dark hair was mussed, strands sticking to his skin with sweat, and he somehow made sweat attractive.

His blue eyes were on her, despite the chaos.

Always focused on her. Her body hummed with more than just the thrill of a fight or the righteous validation of stopping a horrible man from doing horrible things.

The longer their gazes locked, the more the vibrating energy of battle wormed into her abdomen and between her thighs, stirring an intoxicating blend of desire and bloodlust.

Devin’s smile shifted to confusion for a fraction of a second, her gaze reflecting just how depraved she’d become after only a few days of his acquaintance.

He yanked her clear of a sword’s downward arc, pulling her into his chest. He didn’t let go as he attempted to decipher what he was seeing in her eyes, brow furrowing. Then, his gaze darted around her, to her aura, for answers. And it clicked. The iridescent blue of his eyes heated to nearly black.

“I thought I was the one prone to distraction,” he said, a low, deep hunger reverberating through his words and hitting her somewhere intimate.

Miranda maneuvered around him, twisting to drive the broad side of the shovel hard into a cowl covered face.

The clang reverberated up her arm and she dipped, allowing Devin to swing the crowbar, catching an incoming enforcer’s shoulder with the slightly hooked end and wrenching their entire body from that singular point.

Their face slammed into the shelf of supplies, containers and solutions toppling over and leaking viscous acids that started to burn through their leather uniform.

Devin stood very still and very close to her, not backing away as she rose to her full height, practically grinding against him. She could feel every scorching inch.

“You are playing with fire, Mira,” he warned, once again pulling her from an incoming attack.

“You were plenty irresistible before .” His hand enclosed around her jaw, thumb sweeping her lips like he was marking his next target.

“If we were anywhere else this wouldn’t even be a conversation,” he rasped, voice heavy with implication.

Miranda’s eyes locked with his as she swung with the blade edge of the shovel. When she felt it connect with something solid just past Devin’s shoulder, she jerked the handle back, ripping and pulling against a torso. Screams followed.

It was the way desire pulsed in his eyes every time she moved, like watching her slam a shovel into someone’s face was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen, like her power was arousing, that heated her all over. That ignited the undercurrent of arousal tainting the adrenaline.

Together they twirled and hacked, arms threading to reach enemies, anticipating and reacting in flawless synchronization.

A perfectly choreographed duet of destruction.

And each time he pulled close or she arched her back into his chest or their hands brushed, was an exhilarating rush unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

Her body was screaming, vibrating with the energy to attack and yet warmth was building between her thighs, her heaving breaths were not from exertion.

The exit was in sight and Miranda sent her shovel nose first over Devin’s shoulder, spearing an enforcer in the neck. She didn’t bother removing her arm, instead draping it over Devin’s back as the enforcer wheezed. She bit her lip because she couldn’t bite his.

Not yet, anyway.

They lingered, but she didn’t detect any new enemy bodies in her peripheral. She did hear the barking of voices just outside the door. Reinforcements had arrived. Whatever enforcers remained, they must have decided it was more prudent to scatter, than continue the fight.

And, yes, this was hardly the time or place to hook her fingers over the back of Devin’s head, nor was it in any way appropriate to part her lips over his.

There was a very responsible part of her that was well aware of just how indecent it was for his hands to draw down her body.

How scandalous it was for his fingers to dip into her skin before hefting her off her feet.

No arguing with how sinfully wicked it was for the pressure of his arousal to coax unabashed moans from her throat.

The door—that had been just within reach—was kicked inward, hinges snapping.

And it took entirely too long for either of them to think about stopping.

“What the hell?” Captain Blair fixed them with an incredulous stare. “Look, I’m not one to criticize or judge inappropriate proclivities, but there is actual blood all over you.”

Devin set Miranda on her feet.

“Not ours,” Devin commented, but Miranda was just grateful that it wasn’t her mother that burst through the door.

“Not sure it matters,” Captain Blair countered, then he began to take in the scene. He sighed, shoulders rising and falling with the gesture. “Did you leave… anything intact? This is going to take weeks to sort out.”

“Are my mother and sister outside?” Miranda asked.

“Who? Oh, yeah. Wait a minute.” Captain Blair spun on the spot, narrowing his eyes at her.

“He was your father, wasn’t he? That damn noble who came strolling into my HQ with way too much knowledge of very secret plans.

He acted like he was suddenly in charge of everything and half my officers were ready to follow him out the door without even bothering for my approval. ”

“Things had changed, we wanted to make you aware,” Devin said with a shrug.

“Just keep him away from my investigation from now on,” Captain Blair ordered. “I assume Graves got away?”

Miranda watched Devin, gauging his reaction. It couldn’t be easy to face now, knowing he might never get the chance again.

But she loved him for it.

The word flitted so effortlessly through her thoughts, she almost missed it entirely. Her heart must have figured it out long before her brain, because it felt too natural, too easy. Like she had loved him for much longer than this moment.

She expected to recoil at the realization. After all, love would make it all the harder when this ended. She had been adamant that falling for Devin was the last thing she wanted.

Then why couldn’t she stop grinning?

“Yes, naturally, at the first sign of trouble he ran,” Devin said, biting out the words.

“Cowards never change,” Captain Blair replied, before he started to order about his men to different tasks.

This was no longer Miranda’s part of the mission and she took Devin’s hand, leading him toward the door.

“There’s a person in need of immediate care,” Devin called back to Captain Blair, “They’re caged in the far corner. Not sure how long they have.”

Captain Blair adjusted his orders accordingly and Miranda and Devin retreated out into the waning daylight, the sky exploding in purples and oranges.

There was notable chaos in the street. Watchmen fenced off the area, keeping the crowd at bay.

Miss Stone directed officers, giving Devin and her a solemn nod when she noticed the pair of them.

She didn’t smile, but it was clear in how her eyes softened that she was grateful they made it.

Miranda found her mother and father wrapped around Cordelia, who stared past their shoulders with pleading ‘help me’ eyes. Miranda and Devin drew closer and he began to release her hand, but she squeezed his all the harder.

“Miri, thank the Divine. They haven’t let me breathe for ten minutes.”

“I almost lost you,” their mother cooed, “For the last twelve hours I didn’t know if you were alive or dead. You can hold your breath for a few more minutes.”

Cordelia’s gaze darted to Devin then away and she pursed her lips, but didn’t argue further.

Miranda watched her family and it was starting to settle in her chest that her mission was over.

Cordelia was safe. Graves, while maybe not captured, had been exposed and soon would lose all his power and influence.

And, maybe this whole whirlwind of an adventure had only started a week ago, but Miranda felt irrevocably altered.

If there was anything to say to her family, it could wait. They had time. Right now, Miranda only wanted one thing.

But not here.

She pulled Devin away before her parents noticed or tried to stop her. He didn’t resist. One look at his face and she knew she could have guided him off the edge of the pier and he wouldn’t have uttered a word of protest.

Maybe this is what marriage felt like, knowing that someone would do anything for you, trusting them.

Seeing your truest self reflected in their eyes.

If Miranda could have that, maybe she could figure out the rest later.

Or maybe it didn’t matter as much. Because being loved for all the abrasive, hidden parts of herself was its own kind of freedom.

And, regardless, they had precious little time before she tore through his clothes in the middle of the street. One problem at a time.