The Visitor (Graveyard Queen, #4)(19)

He leaned in, eyes as dark and sultry as a Charleston midnight. “What if I were to discreetly kiss you right now?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to distract me.”

“Is it working?”

I sighed. “You know that it is.”

“Good.” He leaned in, feathering his lips over mine in a fleeting caress that made me tingle. I tunneled my fingers through his thick hair, but when I would have pulled him to me for a deeper kiss, he held back, making me want him even more as he moved his mouth lightly against mine.

Trailing kisses across my cheek, he said in my ear, “When I find the man responsible for that bruise on your face, I’ll make him very, very sorry.”

I drew back in shock. “Don’t say that. I would hate to think of you doing anything rash or foolish on my account.”

“I’ll be neither rash nor foolish,” he promised. “But I will be thorough.”

All I could do was stare up at him. “Sometimes you frighten me.”

“Why?” His hand rested on my leg, and I wondered if he was even aware of what his touch did to me.

“I look into your eyes and I still see a stranger.”

This drew a scowl. “That’s ridiculous. You know me better than anyone ever has.”

“Do I?” Somehow I thought that honor still belonged to his dead wife.

“Yes,” he insisted. “And anyway, we’ve done too much talking for one night. You should try to sleep now.”

I sank back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling, still troubled by his threat. “It’s too cold in here to sleep.”

He stretched out beside me on the narrow bed, tucking the covers around me as he pulled me against him. “Better?”

“Much.” I cushioned my head on his shoulder as we fell silent. Through the layers of his clothing I could feel the vibration of his heartbeat, strong and steady. His skin was warm now and I pressed closer, basking in the heat from his body.

“The last time we were in this hospital, our roles were reversed,” I said.

“I remember.” He tightened his arms around me. “I was told that you barely left my side the whole time I was unconscious.”

“I was afraid if I let go of your hand, you’d slip away from me. I wouldn’t be able to bring you back even with—” I broke off in midsentence as I realized what I’d been about to say. Even with Darius Goodwine’s magic.

After the shooting, Devlin had shown no sign of awakening from his coma so in desperation I’d reached out to his old nemesis. The powerful tagati had brought Devlin back to me, but not without a price, I feared.

“What were you about to say?” Devlin asked.

“Nothing.”

“You’re trembling,” he said. “Should I get you another blanket?”

“Just hold me tighter.”

He complied, drawing me into his warmth. “Try to put it all out of your mind for now. You’re safe here with me. I won’t let anything happen to you. Close your eyes and go to sleep.”

His voice was so calming, his arms strong and reassuring. I nestled down in the covers and let the rhythm of his heartbeat lull me to sleep.

When I woke up, he was gone.





Eleven

The room was dark, but I could see a silhouette looming in front of the window. I caught my breath before I realized it was Devlin.

He stood very still, his face tilted skyward, moonlight bathing his features. The hush of the hospital heightened my senses. I could hear the murmur of voices in the hallway, even the distant ping of an elevator, but my attention remained riveted on Devlin. His presence filled the room, and I drew a long breath, drinking in that indefinable essence that belonged solely to him.

As I lay there studying his profile, a large form swooped down from the sky, casting a shadow across his face and into my room before vanishing into the night. I might have thought the fleeting image had been caused by the bump on my head except for the way Devlin took a half step back from the window.

“What was that?” I gasped.

He whirled in surprise, those gleaming eyes pinning me in the moonlight. “How long have you been awake?” He sounded taken aback, though whether from my alertness or that plunging shadow, I had no idea.

Ignoring his question, I pushed myself up on my elbows to scan the window behind him. “You must have seen it, too. It was huge.”

“Yes, I saw it,” he said with a shrug, but there was an unexpected roughness in his tone that his aristocratic drawl couldn’t disguise. “I only caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, but I’m sure it was an owl. Their wingspan is impressive, especially when you aren’t expecting to see one.”

“An owl? In the middle of the city?”

“It’s not unheard of,” he said. “Barn owls are fairly urbanized. They like to nest in church steeples. And we have plenty of those in Charleston.”

His tone had lightened, but neither his words nor his demeanor soothed me. I found something ominous about the way he’d been staring out into the darkness so intently. “Whatever it was flew right past the window. Close enough to cast a shadow over your face and into the room.”

Devlin said nothing, but instead moved toward the bed with his customary grace, his features an inscrutable mask. He looked perfectly poised, calm and unbent, but the rigid set of his shoulders betrayed a tightly coiled tension. Where moonlight slanted across his face, I could see a hint of trouble brewing in the furrows of his brow. I noticed the phone in his hand then. I hadn’t heard a ring or a vibration, much less a conversation, but something had obviously transpired to disturb him.