“I’m a wannabe potentate, and I’m telling you, you can’t risk this again until we know more.”
The order was what did it, kindled crimson in his eyes and ignited a challenge in his blood.
Always ready to poke the lion, I stared him down. “Do not growl at me.”
“Do not tell me what to do.”
“Do not talk down to me.”
“Do not stand on your tiptoes.” He rested his hands on my shoulders and pressed until my heels touched the sidewalk. “It’s cheating.”
“Do not tell me what to do.”
“I already said that one.”
“Now look what you’ve done.” I settled flat on my feet. “We’ve lost momentum.”
“Don’t worry.” He gazed down at me. “We’ll be fighting again before you know it.”
“Promise?” I looped my arms around his neck. “Guess we might as well kiss and make up then.”
Without giving his temper a chance to cool, I dragged his mouth down to mine and tasted every corner.
“Will it always be like this?” he rumbled near my ear. “The arguing?”
A sliver of fear wedged in my spine, but courtship was the time for full disclosure. “Probably.”
“Good.” He laughed softly and pressed his nose under my jaw. “You smell good when you’re angry.”
A beta and a future potentate were bound to bump heads. A lot. Gwyllgi protective instincts set my teeth on edge, but I’m sure Midas would say the same about my tendency to wade in to save others at any cost to myself.
As long as we ended our arguments with a smile and a kiss, we might actually nail this relationship thing.
Pulling back, he gazed down at me. “Are we okay?”
Scrunching up my face, I pretended to think about it. “We’re not not-okay.”
He blasted out a sigh, but I was getting better at reading him.
“You’re fine.” I winked. “And I mean that exactly how it sounded.”
A line bisected his forehead, and he worked his jaw over words that didn’t form.
“One day you’ll make peace with my hilarity,” I said sagely, “and embrace it openly.”
“And one day you won’t rush headlong into danger without checking your speed.”
“It’s good we both have dreams.” I tapped his chin. “I read in Cosmo that’s important in relationships.”
Exasperation clear, he stared down at me. “Hadley.”
How many times had Dad used that tone with my mother? Not the Whitakers, the Pritchards. How often had he spoken with a voice tinged with a wish to be anywhere other than there, with anyone other than her? They fought often, but quietly. Theirs was a disappointment left to simmer beneath the surface of every look, word, and touch. And while Dad found other outlets to express his unhappiness, I had always been hers.
The danger had passed after that kiss, I told myself, but still my shoulders tightened. Midas would never hurt me physically, but emotionally? I was in deep and sinking fast. “Yeah?”
“You’re standing in urine.”
That was not what I had expected to hear. “Huh?”
“That?” He pointed at the thin stream. “That’s pee.” He indicated a man leaning his forehead against the wall. “His, if you want to get specific.”
“Oh gag.” I danced back and bumped into three other people. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
“You had this look…” He reached out to steady me. “What did you expect me to say?” Understanding softened his features, and he lowered his arm slowly when I kept staring at his fingers where they dug into the skin of my upper arm. “What did you expect me to do?”
Crack my heart over his knee then watch this tender feeling drip, drip, drip onto the sidewalk?
“I trust you.” I took his hand to prove it, and mine trembled. “I know you would never hurt me like that.”
Like that.
I bit my tongue, but it was too late. I had slipped up in acknowledging I had been hurt in the past, that I knew to fear the hits that hadn’t landed yet more than the quick jabs of a provoked temper that struck where no one else would see.
Just me.
And my mirror.
The reminders lasted for days. Sometimes weeks. Once, a month. But she was never that careless again.
“Someone did.” He cradled my cheek in his palm. “I recognize the signs.”
“It was a long time ago.” I shuddered out an exhale. “She can’t hurt me anymore.”
Midas drew me against his wide, warm chest. “The past is always looking over our shoulders, isn’t it?”
The comfort seeping from him into me felt too good to push away, so I didn’t even try.
Ambrose leaned against the brick wall, head angled in our direction, his attention making my skin crawl.
“Yeah,” I rasped, hating that he was watching. “It’s always there.”
“Good thing you’re not afraid of heights.” Midas made a humming noise. “It will make this easier.”
“Huh?” I tipped my head back to look at him. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Up might be the only way in.” He pointed to the fire escape between buildings. “It will be hard to reach, but no one has thought to use it yet.”
There might be wards preventing access was my first thought, but it was worth a shot.
Much to Ambrose’s delight, I sent him to inspect the fire escape while Midas and I cut a path toward it.
Ambrose made fast work of his recon then he honed himself into a bolt of pure agony he hurled through my brain. I bumped into the person next to me as I absorbed the hit of information, but I doubted Midas noticed it was my fault and not the woman swaying to unheard music.
All that pain for a simple confirmation that yes, there was an active ward in place. I could have guessed that myself without the migraine.
No chocolate for you, I thought at Ambrose. Jerk.
There was a fine line between Ambrose hearing my thoughts and reading my intent, and I worried one day we might cross it. Honestly? Some days I felt we already had.
The shadow bowed his head, the picture of remorse, but he was in rare form tonight and couldn’t be trusted. Not that I ever did. Trust him, I mean. But I could rely on him in certain situations with the proper motivation. Truffles must not be cutting it if he wasn’t even trying to behave.
Blocking out my annoying shadow, I processed what little else he had discovered about the fire escape.
A nasty ward began on the lowest portion, encompassing the ladder and continuing up onto the roof. As I had suspected. Also as I had suspected, Ambrose offered to disarm it for me in greedy gulps.
Any other time, I might have let him swallow the energy to grant us easy access, but he had been snacking on and off without asking my permission. He just…soaked up the magics whirling on the street.
Queasy with dread, I feared what it meant for me if he had learned to feed independent of my will. Without his hunger to leash him, I would lose control. Maybe not tonight, but eventually.
Midas popped his knuckles as he measured the distance. “Do you want me to go first?”
Lost in thought, I hadn’t noticed the crowd pushing us until we stood directly beneath the fire escape.