Page 11 of The Death Dealer (Sentinels of Magic Book 2)

Morning dawned, and with it, so did Trev’s raging hard-on. He was beginning to think he’d never sleep through the night again if Soleil was within touching distance. The situation called for a cold shower. Cursing as the arctic blast of water first flowed over him, he gritted his teeth to endure the rest as he scrubbed and rinsed.

With any luck, Draven had gotten his text and would call soon. Trev would like to heal Lily immediately, if possible. He had the Aether’s blessing, of sorts, and if Fintan could see no long-term reason why Lily should die this soon into her life, then Trev wanted to proceed. Hopefully, none of Fintan’s psychic visions would show her future self to be detrimental to another. If they did, Trevor didn’t know how he’d explain it to Stockton or his daughter. He’d foolishly made a promise last night, but it was one he intended to keep.

Another excellent reminder not to get involved, he told himself.

Trevor was elbows deep into pulling a shirt over his head when a knock sounded at the connecting door. Tossing the shirt aside, he grinned and rushed to answer. Clearly, he was a sucker for Soleil’s admiring gaze. What was an exposed chest between friends?

Her reaction was almost comical. First, her eyes flew wide, then her wickedly talented mouth—and here he had to remember that was last night’s fantasy and not reality—dropped open. Her hands fluttered in time with her lashes as if she had a strong desire to stroke his bare skin.

“Good morning, Dalli,” he said warmly. She’d yet to shift her focus, and Trevor felt it was the perfect time to flex. Stretching his arms above his head, he locked his fingers together and made his pecs dance.

Her “ohmygoddess” never left her lips, but he heard it through their telepathic connection all the same. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to laugh. He sauntered over to the bed and, bending to best display his ass to advantage in his form-hugging jeans, picked up his shirt.

A high-pitched noise came from her direction.

Glancing over his shoulder, he flexed again, showing a powerful display of muscles across his back. “Did you say something, my dear Dalli?”

Face a raging inferno, she shook her head. “Not at all. But if you’re going to continue to pose, you may want to remove your pants. You can show off all the goods that way.”

He laughed.

Unable to discern why, he had to acknowledge to himself that it made him ridiculously happy she had not only caught on, but had called him on his game. Her sigh was heartfelt as he drew his shirt down over his abs and settled the hem at his waist.

“I had that same reaction when you covered yourself with the sheet last night,” he confessed.

“We’re horn dogs,” she concluded glumly. “Horn dogs destined to never have wild monkey sex together.”

“Are you trying to be depressing?”

Her tinkling laughter filled him with a desire to kiss the sound from her lips. Instead, he turned away to pick up his phone and wallet. With one last check, he noted the time.

“Fintan should be here within the next fifteen minutes. I hope he was able to reach Draven,” Trev said aloud.

“What did I miss? Why are the Sentinels coming here?”

He gave a small shake of his head. “Right. I forgot to fill you in. Come on. I’ll tell you as we head down to breakfast.” Pausing, he frowned. “Why are you up so early, anyway?”

“Gene texted to say he wanted to show me the greenhouse on the south lawn. He’s?—”

“A dead man if he doesn’t keep his hands to himself,” Trev muttered under his breath as she rattled on about plants and the time of day they bloomed ad nauseam.

With a hand to Soleil’s lower back, Trevor guided her out his door and into the hallway.

There, he found Draven leaning a shoulder against the wall, rolling his ever-present lucky coin across his knuckles.

“Good morning, cher.” His grin was slow in coming but encompassed his entire face, and his whiskey-colored eyes sparkled with wicked delight. A rare moment for the jaded Guardian. “You’re both lookin’ cozier than the last time I saw you.”

“Cram it, Masters,” Trev growled.

“Draven!” Soleil rushed forward and flung herself into his friend’s waiting arms as Trevor scowled his irritation.

“Since when did you become bosom buddies?” he asked. Although he ignored the surliness in his tone, Draven didn’t, and the bastard had the nerve to laugh.

“It’s like that, then? I suspected it was.”

“It’s like nothing,” Trev snapped.

Hurt flashed across Soleil’s expressive face, but she was quick to turn from him. “Have you had breakfast yet, Draven? We were heading downstairs for a bite.”

The Guardian’s all-encompassing gaze missed nothing as it swept over Soleil’s shoulder, bared by her peasant top. His eyes purposefully touched on the mark Trev had created in their fantasy world, and he nodded toward it. “Looks like bites were already had, cher.”

“What?” Her gaze followed his, and color surged up her neck as she stared helplessly. “Ohmygoddess! What… how… ohmygoddess!”

“For fuck’s sake! It’s a hickey, Dalli, not a snake bite.”

“It seems the snake slithered into a fruitful garden, mon ami. Who knows what else he bit, hmm?” Draven taunted.

If his looks could kill as easily as his touch, Trevor was sure the man would be lying dead on the floor.

“Shut the fuck up,” he mouthed behind Soleil’s trembling back. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he drew her close, hoping to soothe her feelings. “It’s all right, babe. I’m sorry for—you’re laughing?”

He was incredulous. She wasn’t crying in the face of her embarrassment, as he’d first believed, and the tears streaming from her eyes were from mirth!

Once again, the earth witch had shocked him silent.

* * *

Soleil spareda few minutes to change her top as Trevor spoke with Draven about whatever it was he’d been summoned for. Her curiosity was high, but he’d tell her soon enough. One of the things she appreciated most about the Death Dealer was his blatant honesty. So far, she couldn’t say he’d ever held back. From her or from himself. It seemed Trevor Blane didn’t spare anyone. In his eyes, the truth was the truth and the consequences be damned.

She could get behind an attitude like his. Soleil hated games and players. Of which, Trev seemed to be neither, and she was profoundly grateful. He wasn’t avoiding sex with her because of her looks or a few extra pounds. His issues ran deeper, and his hang-ups were his own, having nothing to do with her.

But she wouldn’t push for more. Either he cared to explore long term or he didn’t. She couldn’t force him to want a relationship. He was running scared because of what he was. The reason was understandable, too. Perhaps not entirely accurate, but understandable. Allowing him space was paramount.

If there was one thing Soleil could be proud of, it was that she wouldn’t chase a man for his affection. If a guy wanted to be with her and she was willing, then he’d make it happen. If he didn’t put forth the effort, he wasn’t worth her time. Or so she told herself repeatedly.

She only hoped Trevor wanted to put in the effort. It hurt her heart to think he might not. Yet he’d been right about the dalliance bit. It wasn’t for her. For a certainty, she would become too invested after a sexual interlude with him. The idea of never having more made her sad.

Shoving her morose thoughts aside, she wandered downstairs and followed the sound of voices to the dining room. Pausing in the doorway, she studied those present.

Gene Stockton was a handsome man. Intelligence shone in his gray eyes, and he did nothing to mask his suspicions of those present. Although he possessed no magical abilities, he was a force to be reckoned with, in his own right. The man came from old money but had built an empire from selling rare plants. He also had legitimate business dealings, but Soleil desired the things he kept in his private collection.

She’d played dumb when Trevor learned Gene’s name, but she’d known the truth of who he was long before. After meeting him at a botanical exhibit two years ago, she’d scryed and learned everything she could about the man. A woman couldn’t be too careful.

Gene had also made his interest in her known. There had been times when she thought about accepting his offer to dinner. After all, they shared a common passion for plants. But she hadn’t felt a spark. The spark. The one that told her this man was the one for her. A forever partner for life.

Her gaze drifted over Draven Masters and Fintan Sullivan to settle on Trevor, who was in deep discussion with all three men.

Her spark had ignited for Trevor. Too bad he hadn’t experienced the same. She supposed it frequently happened that way. There was always someone who seemed a little bit more enamored than the other in the beginning. Did those tables ever turn? She’d have to talk to Vivian and Damian to see if that was the case.

As if sensing her presence, Trevor’s head half turned toward hers even though his gaze remained on the men as he finished speaking. The instant he was done, his attention shifted to her and his eyes lit with welcome.

Did he know how transfixed she became when he turned those startling baby blues her way? Shaking off the spell he effortlessly wove, she stepped into the room.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she said. Her voice was silky smooth, bordering on polished, and a momentary self-satisfaction swept through her. Josie would be proud of the cool sophistication her always-awkward sister had pulled off.

After a quick glance at Trevor, Gene approached her and lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. “Not at all, my dear Soleil.”

True pleasure shone in his gaze, and she smiled at the welcome. “Thank you, Mr. Stockton.”

“I believe we know each other well enough to dispense with formality, don’t you? Please call me Gene.”

“Thank you, Gene.”

He grinned, and inside her mind, Trevor’s irritation buzzed like a pesky fly.

She lowered her voice. “Why are the big guns here? I assume you know what those two are capable of, right?”

Gene’s sparkle dimmed. “Yes. We are discussing what they’re able to do for my daughter’s health.”

“Lily? Oh, Gene! I didn’t realize she was ill. Why didn’t you tell me? I may have been able to help.”

His smile flashed, and the look in his gray eyes warmed considerably. “I knew the moment we met that you had a generous heart. The only reason I didn’t mention it is because I have witches on my payroll. None can stop the cancer. Slow it from spreading, yes. Stop it, no.”

“I can,” Trevor said, coming up behind him.

“But why are Draven and Fintan here?” she asked, refusing to examine why her heart beat faster when Trevor approached or why it warmed her to know he was willing to help.

“To save my ass and help prevent the Authority from discovering what I’m about to do.”

Disconcerted, Soleil blinked. “You can get in trouble for healing someone?”

“Outside the line of duty to them, yes.” His mouth tightened with irritation, and it didn’t take a genius to know he hated the restrictions imposed on him. “But after the death of my sister-in-law, I swore I wouldn’t let the Authority tie my hands again. They can go fuck themselves.”

“Damn straight! What can I do to help?” she asked.

His lips twitched, and amusement lit his eyes. Although his reaction was similar to Gene’s, Trevor’s reached inside her, waking the sleeping butterflies in her belly. They fluttered uncontrollably as he watched her, and the urge to squirm under his steady regard was high.

“There’s nothing you can do here, babe. If it’s all right with Stockton, why don’t you go putter around the greenhouse?”

Immediate pique sparked inside her. His indulgent tone plucked the wrong chord and made her feel like a housewife from another era being placated. It was the equivalent of patting her on the rump and telling her to get back in the kitchen, and she fucking hated it.

Trevor’s brows drew together, and his general demeanor turned to one of wariness. He guessed he’d stepped in shit, but Soleil suspected he didn’t know why.

“What did I say wrong?” he asked through their connection.

“If you’re too dumb to know, I’m not telling you. But don’t worry about me. I’ll just go ‘putter.’”

“Shit,” he muttered as she spun on her heel to exit the room.