Shadow's End (Elder Races, #9)(19)

Once outside, she gratefully took deep breaths of the chill night air. Not even the whiff of stench from the street rubbish could dampen her relief at leaving the stifling smells inside Malfeasance.

Graydon strode down the street so fast, she had to trot to keep up. His anger was still palpable, and his expression so dark, she bit her lip and kept silent for several blocks, until they had left all the activity behind them and reached a quiet, dark section of street.

With immense relief, she shoved back the confining hood. A slight, cold breeze, still damp from the recent rain, brushed against her overheated cheeks.

“I’m going to burn that place to the ground.” His whisper was so forceful, it came out as a hiss. “I didn’t do it because you were there. I know how much you need to find your son, but I’m going back to level that building.”

“Dear gods,” she said. She stopped walking, which meant he had to let go of her hand, drag her along behind him, or stop walking too.

He stopped. As she gently tugged, he spun around to face her. He had clenched her fingers so tightly, they had gone numb, but she didn’t protest. Overhead, the cloud cover had broken, and a pale spray of stars arced across the clear night, silhouetting his tawny head.

Even though his rough features were in shadow, she still tried to search his expression as she asked, “What happened?”

He blew out a forceful breath and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. Then he rubbed his face as well. Through her palm, she could sense when the furious rigidity in his body eased.

“No,” he said. “I won’t saddle you with that information. I’m handling it.”

She rejected that, categorically. “How on earth could you be handling whatever is back there, when we just walked out? I should know what the cost of rescuing my son is. He should know what his actions cost.”

“That’s not fair or accurate.” He stepped closer. The heat from his body warmed her. “Ferion has nothing to do with this. I caught no hint of his scent throughout the rest of the place. It’s likely he has no idea what happens beyond the gaming rooms.”

Again, her imagination ran riot. She had seen the gambling for herself. What was left?

Drugs and sex. She thought of how several of the men had considered her figure. Even when there was virtually nothing for them to see, other than the fact that she was feminine, they had assessed the possibilities in what lay hidden underneath the cloak. How a few had contemplated rape.

A sudden wash of emotion brought tears to her eyes. She pointed back in the direction of Malfeasance. “Whatever is back there—you would stop it right now if it wasn’t for him, wouldn’t you?”

No, she thought. If it wasn’t for me.

This has nothing to do with Ferion. Graydon checked his behavior for me.

Slowly, his grip on her fingers loosened. He raised both hands to cup her jaw. His hands were so big, she felt completely nestled within the warmth of his hold.

“Beluviel, listen to me,” he said. His voice had gentled. “Normally I do a much better job with my temper. I shouldn’t have lost control like that, or said anything that I did.”

She gripped his thick, strong wrists. “Don’t apologize. Just explain.”

“You’ve done me a great honor by trusting me tonight.” He touched her lips with his callused thumbs, as if he would read her expression in the darkness by touch. “I want you to trust me a little further. Let me handle what I found at Malfeasance. Trust that I am handling it. And trust me when I also say this doesn’t need to concern you.”

He had said before that he was handling it. Whatever it was. What could he have possibly done to handle anything in the short amount of time he had left her alone?

But she trusted him. Didn’t she?

Poking at herself, she realized that, yes, she did trust him, substantially more than she had at the beginning of this gods awful evening, and even more than she had realized.

“You’ll tell me if I need to know?” she asked.

“I swear, I’ll tell you if you need to know,” he said. “But you don’t need to know. Stay focused on your son. This does not have to become your battle.”

She thought about that. Then she gave him a little nod. “Very well.”

He bent his head.

For a crazy, heart-stopping moment, she thought he might actually kiss her.

On the lips, no less.

If he did, it would turn this whole evening completely upside down.

As it turned out, he did kiss her, but not on the mouth. He pressed his lips to her forehead, almost as if he thought she might need comfort, which was stupid, of course, because nobody had offered her comfort in a donkey’s age.

People always came to Bel with their problems and expected her to fix them, and she did. Somehow, she always did, no matter how difficult the problem or how long it took.

The press of his mouth against her sensitive skin evoked the wildest upsurge of longing she had felt in a winter’s eternity. It mingled with the earlier yearning she had felt to fling herself against his chest, to pat his waistcoat, to nestle against the warm, friendly blaze of his aura.

Closing her eyes, she pretended to drift into his caress, as if she had every right to enjoy his touch and they had all the time in the world.

And every single part of that was wrong.

He murmured, “I’m so sorry we didn’t get any information about Ferion.”