Page 4 of The Hellion is Tamed

But giants never went down easily.

Ramsey staggered into the table with a roar, turning it over, sending glasses and candles flying. He went to his knees, hung his head for a belabored breath, then shoved to his feet. But, as Simon had hoped, the horde was more interested in warfare than him. A stranger they’d never seen, cared nothing about. Ramsey, they likely had problems with. So, they played into Simon’s hand, turning to each other, inebriated fools determined to prove their mettle.

As the tavern erupted in shouts and the sound of breaking glass, Simon jammed his knife in his waistband and reached through the crowd. Her hand fell into his, seeking, and he hauled her across the bar, elbowing bodies aside, stepping over crystal shards and broken chairs, bodies and disorder.

Someone gave Emma a hard shove that propelled her into his back, and they stumbled through the doorway and into the alley, moonlight a dreary spill over them. The scent of burning rubbish and coal rode heavy, the air foul and thick. Simon took a breath of it and turned to her. She seemed stunned, her gaze locked on their linked fingers. Chest rising and falling, bringing generous breasts he didn’t want to imagine filling his hands against the neckline of her ragged gown. Her eyes lifted to his, and for a brief moment, the sounds of chaos—shouts from the docks, carriage wheels hitting pitted cobblestones, terse conversation and cruel calamity—faded until they were the only two people in the world.

Like they had been before.

Emma. The girl who’d visited him when he’d been a lonely, confused adolescent, she the beautiful creature who’d stepped out of his dreams and into his time. But never fully. Never where he could do more than look. Andyearn. The only person who’d ever arrived in his world from another who wasn’t dead.

Not a ghost, but not someone he could touch, either. This moment was the first for that.

She looked the same, standing there in the silvery, fog-shrouded light. Hair as ginger-sullied as he remembered. Indigo eyes, lashes so long they grazed the hollows beneath. Tall, the top of her head coming nearly to his shoulder.

And those lips.

Inviting exploration, inviting blind fascination.

Which, at one time, he’d allowed.

Been sucked into in breathless captivation. However, his yearning had perished lifetimes ago.

Along with his naïve view of love.

As if she could read his thoughts, those gorgeous lips parted, releasing a misty gasp into the night. Her breath stole into his lungs, the scent of cinnamon and cloves a delicious tickle. An awareness as tangible as her finger trailing down the nape of his neck and past the open collar of his shirt.

Awakening feelings long dormant. Unwelcome and uninvited.

Because the boy who’d loved her was gone.

“Where is it?” he asked and wrenched his hand from hers, letting their arms drop. He rolled his fingers into a fist to stop the tingling in his palm and brought his arm against his chest to keep from reaching for her.

At his stark tone, she took a lurching step into the alley’s rough brick. Her gaze plunged to his boots and worked its way up, the most excruciating inspection of his life. Exhaling deeply, she patted the pocket of a threadbare coat that had seen better days years prior. “Here. It’s right here. I never once, not ever, let your swish bauble escape my sight.” When she could see her admission didn’t sway him, she whispered, “Honest to heaven, I needed it more. I skipped in an’ outta time, no control ‘til I found it mentioned in a book about the spectral and arcane. I never meant to bother anyone, only get what I needed to survive. I can read, you know. My ma taught me, before”—she swallowed deeply and looked away—“she passed. Was a wonder I made it ta’ you those times, seeing as my control ain’t the best. I’ve been able to mostly stay in my own time now thanks to that hunk of—”

“Fluorite,” Simon finished for her, refusing to let her plea soften his heart.Refusing. “It’s called the Soul Catcher, and we have people who desperately need it. You’re wrong about no one butyouneeding it. Children growing up with supernatural abilities who have no control, either. In truth, we have a brethren of souls seeking solace only that stone can give.” He jerked his head toward the tavern with a curse. “And the Dark Queen of the East End can obviously take care of herself.”

Jamming her hand in her pocket, Emma yanked the Soul Catcher free. A gem the size of a walnut, the stone glittered in the moonlight, casting crimson facets like stardust at their feet. Shoving it toward him, she snapped, “Take it, then. Your all-powerful rock. Take it and be gone with ye’. Fancy toff such as yerself. In the wrong place. The wrongtime.” At his measured silence, her smile grew, her teeth a flash of pearly brilliance in the night. “You can’t go wifout’ me. Ah, blimey, is that it?”

Snatching the Soul Catcher from her hand, Simon let the wave of contentment at touching the gem slide like sunlight through him, pushing aside the raw feeling of touchingher.“Honest to heaven, to use your verbiage, what if I can’t?”

She huffed, her smile slipping at his mocking. “You’d risk this for me? Come here and not know ‘bout gettin’ back?”

Simon tipped his head back and laughed, the sound as jagged as the slivers of glass beneath his boot. Glancing down at her, he shoved the gem in his waistcoat pocket with a careless shrug. A gesture he hoped concealed the storm of emotion he experienced when he looked at her. “No, my dark queen, I risk it for myfamily.”

Her chest rose and fell, another call to lose himself in the creamy swells of her breasts, dive into the warmth he could feel radiating from her body. Never to resurface. Lost. “I couldn’t step out then, when I came to you before. I didn’t know how until I stole yer blessed stone. Stuck in a box, walls holding me in. I would’ve. Maybe. Maybe later, I even tried. But you—”

The tavern door burst back on its hinges as two brawlers stumbled into the alley, falling in a tangle to the grimy cobblestones, their grunts and punches echoing through the night.

Simon grasped her hand, dragging her away from the bedlam. The knife in his waistband and the pistol in his boot considerable reminders of the protection he could provide. But he didn’t want to kill anyone. Not tonight. “We have to go.”

She halted, jerking against his hold. “I’m not goin’ nowhere with you, mister.”

The Soul Catcher heated until it glowed like a piece of the sun from the depths of his pocket. The haunts circled and edged, their breath hot, rank. He wondered if Emma could feel their presence. If she had any idea why he was trying to save her. He’d promised Julian and Finn he wouldn’t tell her, because it broke the rules. But how could henottell her? “You can’t stay,” he finally whispered, the apprehensive tone painting his words unmistakable. At least to him.

She gave another yank of her arm that he controlled by pulling her flush against his chest.

Her heartbeat danced through the thin layer of her pathetic coat and right into his chest, like an arrow jammed in deep. Until his matched hers, a frantic call. “Youcan’tstay,” he repeated, his strident pronouncement echoing off the alley’s walls.