Page 49

I t felt like he’d barely closed his eyes when he awoke to the sun beginning to rise, as he always did.

Atta was curled against him, her arm wrapped around his middle. He kissed the top of her head, relishing the floral and rain scent of her. She let out a little sigh in her sleep, and he regretfully detangled himself, slipping into a pair of lounge pants to venture down to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Gibbs was already awake, there at the stove making coffee, tea, and porridge.

“Where is Atta?” he asked after handing a newspaper. “She wasn’t in the room where her stuff is at.”

“Don’t worry about that. You look frazzled, lad. What is it?”

He handed a note in his perfect handwriting. “Already had three calls since Marguerite got the line diverted. It’s up and running this morning. You can see one patient this afternoon.”

set down the newspaper and glanced at the name and address of the Infected person—Inhabited, he corrected inwardly. “It’s a posh part of Dublin this time.”

Gibbs nodded his agreement and set to pouring tea for himself, coffee for Atta. “There’s still no clear rhyme or reason with this Plague.”

“Not yet. But we’re close.”

Without another word between them, carried the teacups up the stairs to his room.

In the doorway, he stopped.

She must have sensed he’d gotten up, because she’d turned over in her sleep onto her stomach, her arm reaching over to his empty side, giving him the most glorious view of her body from behind. He leaned against the doorframe watching her for a long moment. Warmth flooded his heart at the sight of her naked in his bed, bathed in golden, watery sunlight beginning to stream in from the window. They were either in for the ride of their lives or a hellish nightmare.

Quietly, he set the cups on the nightstand and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. She didn’t stir, so he brushed the hair from the side of her face with his fingertips. When that didn’t work, he smiled devilishly to himself and began trailing light kisses from her arse all the way up to her neck. By then, she was smiling, her eyes still closed. He pulled away, and she opened her eyes, then rolled over.

wanted to sketch her, paint her, sculpt her. Immortalise her just like that, clothed in nothing but the sun and the scent of him.

“Good morning,” she said groggily and he handed her the coffee.

“Rise and shine, darling. We have another faerie to exorcize.”

Her eyes widened. “But we’re not ready.”

Seeing a potential disaster before it could take place, he took the coffee back from her, as it was perilously close to sloshing all over the bed.

“Then we will prepare.”

“We don’t even know how to contain a faerie with finality.” She threw her arm out toward the window. “I lost one back out in the wild!”

“Then let’s figure it out. First, though I don’t relish the thought of it, Gibbs is downstairs, so you might want to get dressed.” He bent and pressed a kiss to her breast.

Grumbling, Atta rose and picked up the first item of clothing she came to—one of his collared shirts. She put it on, buttoning only one button just below her breasts, and officially had another image of her seared into his brain quite pleasantly.

In fact. . .

He abandoned his tea and followed her.