Wrath: The Niteclif Evolutions, Book 2 (33 page)

I swallowed hard. “Can we sit on the bed?”

“I think it’s best we have this conversation somewhere other than the bedroom, don’t you?”

I realized then that he expected the worst from me. What else had I taught him, though? He expected me to balk because it was getting difficult and I wasn’t getting my way. Well, this time he was wrong. “Fine, if you want to stand here next to the toilet and talk, we’ll stand here.”

He sighed and dropped his chin to his chest. Crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall he said, “Just get it over with.”

I took a deep breath in through my nose and exhaled slowly through my mouth, trying to gain control over my stampeding pulse. “I’m sorry.” I paused, and Hellion quirked an eyebrow at me.

“Okay.” He stood and began to walk by me and I grabbed his arm.

“No! It’s not okay,” I snapped, pulling his arm hard enough to force him to either turn around or drag me along with him.

He stopped.

“Don’t you get it? It’s
not
okay. None of this is okay. But it’s my new life, and one I’ve got to master. I’ve been given a really crappy deal in the form of the prophecy, because I feel like it doesn’t give me any choice.” I scrubbed my hands through my hair, making it stand on end. I grabbed it and pulled, groaning. “I hate the idea of destiny. I don’t want to believe everything is preordained and nothing I do matters. Don’t you see?”

“No,” he whispered. “I don’t see, Madeleine. What I see is that you’ve been given some amazing opportunities as well as a strong, guaranteed love, and all you’ve done is bitch. And what of me? What of my destiny that the prophecy has touched? Have you wondered how I feel? Have you ever even asked what I wanted before meeting you? No. Most people would give anything for the opportunities you’ve been given, but all you can see is the heartache dealt
you
. Instead of embracing the man standing in front of you, the proud man you’ve reduced to nearly begging for your affection, you mourn for and rage against the man who abandoned you and left you to essentially die.”

As far as blows to the heart, his was a direct hit I was sure I’d feel for a while.

Hellion closed his eyes and shook his head in apparent disgust. “In addition to finding your killer, you need to find some happiness, Maddy. That’s really what I want for you. Because while you’ll fade if you don’t solve the crimes, you won’t ever live,
really
live, if you don’t figure out how to be happy.”

The back of my throat got tight and I nodded quickly, trying desperately to hold on to my composure. “You’re right,” I choked out. “I know you’re right.”

“Your five minutes is up,” he said gently, and he turned to walk away.

“Wait!” I cried. “Please wait. I…” I paused, unsure how to get around the lump in my throat and the bands of terror wrapped around my chest. I was a historical failure at love, yet here I was, willing to try again if it meant not losing this man.

“Yes?” he said patiently, his back still toward me.

“Just answer me this. Do you truly want me? I mean
want
want. As in can’t-live-without-me want. Because I’ll not settle for anything less than that.” I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I felt giddy and sick.

He turned and looked at me, his face so serious it looked as if it might never smile again. For a moment I worried I’d misjudged this situation as badly as I’d misjudged Bahlin. Then Hellion spoke. “I cannot imagine a day without you in it. And while I would miss you horribly in such an event, it’s the small things that would haunt me.” He stepped up to me and tenderly took me by the shoulders, his face softening almost imperceptibly. “The texture of your lips”—he bent and grazed them with his own—“the timbre of your laugh”—he stroked my throat—“the dip in your lower back”—he caressed it with his hands—“the sweet spot behind your knee that makes you whimper when kissed”—he bent and touched it with his fingertips and took the opportunity to kiss my collar bone—“your generous smiles”—he traced my lips with his thumbs—“and the look in your eyes when you first wake up and see me watching you.” He looked at me so earnestly. “I’d grieve you, Maddy. It’s part of what being in love truly is, and I never thought to feel this way about anyone, particularly you. It’s terrifying and exhilarating and maddening all at once.”

“I know the feeling,” I said, finding myself strangely, erotically, turned on to hear how much he loved me. For love I believed it was, more now than ever before.

He gave a small smile and looked so sad. It was clear he thought he had his answer, and that my “knowing” involved Bahlin, not him.

I stepped up to him and reached for his hands, never breaking eye contact. “I love you too,” I breathed, leaning forward to kiss his lips.

The world tilted, just like it had that fateful night at the stones, and we clung to each other. Time stopped, and we were suspended in being before the words, “
Thar gach ni eile, a chuisle, a chroí
” whispered across our skin, and we were slammed back into our bodies.
Above all else, my pulse, my heart.
Something in me let go. We both went to our knees on the hard floor, the fall jarring me and making my teeth clack together.

Hellion grabbed my face and held me too tightly. “Are you all right?”

I tried to nod but only managed a small movement between his clutching hands.

He dragged me to him, crushing his lips to mine as he lay down with me, his body covering mine, forearms pushed up under my armpits and behind my shoulders so his hands cupped the back of my head. I clung to him like the sky clings to the horizon. He ravished my mouth, breaking away only to nip at my jaw and neck, gripping my hair and pulling my head back for better access.

I gasped. My body ached. I wanted him in every way, in every possible way a woman can want a man. “Take me to bed, Hellion,” I whispered, licking the outer shell of his ear and then biting his neck hard enough that he gasped.

“We’ve a guest to attend to and then I’m all yours. But first, tell me again,” he pleaded, pushing back and looking into my eyes. “Please, say it again.”

“I love you,” I gasped, my voice hardly more than a whisper.

“Why? Why now?” he demanded, gripping my head between his enormous hands.

“I’m tired of fighting what I feel. I know that destiny’s at play in my life to a point, but I still have free will in some of my choices. One of those choices is how well I love you, and I want to do it right. So I choose to love you well, Hellion.
I. Choose.
”

He crushed his lips to mine once more in a blood-boiling kiss and then he stood, pulling me up with him. “If I didn’t run the risk of being charged as a serial murderer, I’d tell Ben to take a bloody hike. As it is, I need him.”

My stomach fell at the thought of Hellion charged with crimes I knew he hadn’t committed. “Can’t I act as a witness? I mean, I know you were home on more than one occasion when a murder occurred.”

“We’ll see. You know what? I’m going to tell Ben we’ll meet with him Monday. That gives us the rest of today and the weekend to get the two of us sorted out, and that’s got to be my first priority.” He strode out of the bathroom and came right back in to kiss me once more before jogging out of the room.

I sat on the edge of the counter, contemplating the strange feeling in my chest.
I love Hellion,
I thought, and it gave me butterflies and made me feel breathlessly hopeful. Smiling a bit to myself and rubbing my lips where he’d last kissed me, I turned to straighten the bathroom counter from where he’d put himself together after his brief shower. Picking up his brush, I was struck by the blond hairs stuck in the bristles. Hellion’s hair was naturally that blond that women pay for: brown, gold, platinum, and copper. It was rich and vibrant and…
holy mother of Moses.

I turned and sprinted out of the bathroom and through the bedroom door, straight into Hellion, who was charging back into the room after having said his farewell to Ben. He grunted, staggering back from the impact. I threw my arms around him to steady myself.

“What is it?” he demanded, setting me behind him and away from whatever threat he thought was in the bedroom.

I scrambled around in front of him, waving his brush around. “No! Don’t you see? It wasn’t your hair!” I shouted.

“Beg pardon?” he asked, watching me carefully.

“Come here.” He let me drag him into the bathroom and turn on the recessed lighting. It shined down on us, brilliantly illuminating the calico hair in the brush. “See? Your hair is multi-colored, right? What color was the hair in your letter and the hair found at Amaly’s?”

Hellion’s face clouded over and he looked down at his feet. “I’m still not entirely clear, Maddy. It was blond, like mine.”

“But that’s where you’re wrong, Hellion. The hair in your letter and, I’m betting, at Amaly’s was a true, solid blond. Not the multi-colored pelt you sport. It couldn’t have been your hair!” I pumped my fist in the air then hugged the brush to my chest, a sense of satisfaction spreading through me.

Hellion finally looked up and he smiled a small smile, but his eyes were shadowed with grief. “So I really did kill her.”

“Huh?”

“Amaly. I really did kill her,” he said. He hung his head and locked his hands behind his neck. “Shit.”

“No, you didn’t. The killer did.” Tossing the brush on the counter, I stepped forward and grabbed his arms, pulling his hands down and sliding my own into his. Hellion’s hands were cold, and I began rubbing them to warm him, though I wasn’t sure it would help. “Hellion, what could a witch or wizard do with hair?”

“We talked about this, Maddy. Hair is an incredibly personal item and could be used to do any number of things. The list is too long to possibly go through, and even if we did I’m sure we’d miss things. No, I don’t think it’s possible.”

I gently slapped a hand to his chest, making him raise his eyes.

“Any reason you’re hitting me?” he asked in a flat voice. His eyes were drawn and bruised looking, his lack of sleep and ricocheting emotions finally catching up to him.

“I need your attention. This is critical.” Reaching up, I ran my fingers through his hair. “We don’t need all the possible solutions regarding what hair can be used for. We need one probable solution. What we need to know is what
this
hair was used for.” Taking a handful of his hair, I tugged and pulled his face down to me for a kiss. He came willingly, and his lips moved against mine in a sweet joining that left us both breathless and Hellion’s eyes a little brighter.

“What could this hair have been used for?” he asked absently as his gaze softened and he dug through his mental files, biting his bottom lip and holding it between his teeth. He ran a hand over his chest slowly where I’d slapped him, unconsciously massaging his pectoral muscle.
 

“Think of it this way,” I said. “Is there some benefit for getting the hair into a person’s home, or even hotel room? Does having hair inside a dwelling do anything for the person whose hair it is? Or was? Or—”

“I get it,” he muttered, switching to rubbing his jaw as he thought. I saw the moment he had the answer because he paled further and swayed. “Holy goddess,” he croaked. “I did kill her, Maddy.”

“Hellion! No, you didn’t. You—”

“Stop,” he commanded in a deep voice, and I did.

I hated it when he pulled magic shit like that against me, even if it was small.

“Just listen. Hair is a very personal thing, unique to its owner. That individuality makes hair a powerful addition to any spell or magic performed. If strong wards are set—for example, around this house—and a person cannot break the magic in order to get inside, she, or he, can choose to get something of theirs that is highly personal and unique to them
inside
the place that’s warded. In this case, the killer used hair. Once the hair is inside, the person can call themselves to that piece of, well, themselves. Only one or two wards are strong enough to keep someone out when they are calling themselves back together.” He pressed his hands against his temples and pushed, the muscles on his arms flexing and releasing as he pushed then relaxed over and over again. Opening his eyes, he stared at me and asked, “Why would someone want inside these places?”

“For me,” I whispered. “Each place has been somewhere I was or had been. So if anyone killed Amaly, it’s me.” I hadn’t liked her, but I hadn’t wished her dead, either. It was hard on the conscience to realize your simple existence caused someone else’s death. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, you said it yourself. The killer is responsible here.” Hellion gathered me up in a bone-crushing hug then released me and grasped my shoulders. “Now I need you to think. Put that inherited logic to use, Maddy. What is the killer after?”

“Seriously, Hellion, it’s got to be me. Think about it. At the hotel, the hair was put into the card on the flowers and delivered to my room. The killer wanted to be able to get into rooms she, or he, assumed were heavily warded, so he sent the hair. Then at your place, he sent the letter with the hair because he was sure your home was warded against intruders. We made the mistake of carrying the hair to Amaly’s and then—”

“Walking to dinner,” he finished for me, and I nodded. “We walked to dinner and the killer likely saw us, so after he knew we’d gone, he returned to Amaly’s and killed her.”

“Yes.” A feeling of dread was blossoming in my stomach, unfurling like a flower on a time-lapse camera, one petal at a time on fast-forward. “Hellion, Gaitha was here at the front door that night, remember? Darius said she left in a rush when she caught a whiff of something. I’m proposing it was magic that drew her away. Gaitha was at Avebury Henge the night the waitress was killed. And Gaitha saw us leave Black & Bleu.” I looked at him, my breathing suddenly shallow and too fast. “I think we may have our killer.”