Shadow's End (Elder Races, #9)(45)

“Good,” he said between his teeth. He gripped her head in both hands, holding her with such tense care, she could feel the tension vibrating through his big body.

Tilting her face up to his, he held his mouth just over hers. Not quite touching or kissing, but so close she could feel the heat from his lips. She shook with the desire to cross that tiny distance and kiss him.

How could this have happened between them so long ago? It felt as if it had been yesterday. Her voice wobbled. “This is why I’ve never tried to see you alone. One look at you, one touch, five minutes, and it all spills out.”

He growled, “Don’t be balanced, Bel. Don’t turn away or find someone else. Wait for me. Wait to see what we can have together. You said it once, don’t you remember? Holding your ground is not passivity. Work for this. Stay the course.”

She touched his mouth with shaking fingers. “What course is there? We’ve been living in a trap for two hundred years. Now Ferion is Lord of the demesne, and I—I don’t know him anymore.”

“What do you mean?” He massaged her temples with both callused thumbs.

“Once I knew he was a good man who made a few bad mistakes. Now, mostly he says and does the right thing, but sometimes I find him watching me. I don’t know who’s looking out of his eyes, or what he’s thinking, or how much Malphas might have twisted him.”

When emotion clogged her throat, she had to stop. Memories from very long ago played through her mind. As a towheaded, Elven boy, Ferion had been intelligent, loving and mischievous. How she missed that boy, with a deep, specific pain that only a parent who has become estranged from her child could truly understand.

Graydon stroked wisps of hair off her face. “Does he gamble anymore?”

His words pulled her back to the present. She paused, thinking. “No, not to my knowledge. Not since England.”

“Then don’t lose hope, not yet.”

She drew back so she could search his shadowed expression. “Gray, why did you come? Has something happened?”

Gently, he laid a large, broad hand over her mouth, stopping her flow of words. We should talk telepathically, he told her. We haven’t done anything to trigger the connection, and I don’t sense Malphas anywhere, but he has slipped up on us before, remember?

I could never forget. She gripped his thick, strong wrist, staring up into his dark, shadowed gaze. You do know something!

A slow smile widened his mouth and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

A few months ago, information came into my possession, he told her. I didn’t go looking for it, and it also has nothing to do with what happened to us and Ferion two hundred years ago, so it doesn’t violate the terms of our bargain. I sent investigators into the field to verify the details and gather more evidence.

The thought of the risk he had taken made her stomach clench. Her fingers tightened on his wrist.

Before she could say anything, he added quickly, They’re very good investigators and experienced professionals, thorough and careful to hide their tracks. I took great care.

Her breath shuddered. Of course you did.

I also went outside both our demesnes. They’re not even Wyr. Well, one of them isn’t. The other who is Wyr has no ties to the Wyr demesne—in fact, he used to be an Elder tribunal Peacekeeper. He’s young, but he’s respected for the impartiality and quality of his work.

What did they find? she asked.

Exactly what you would expect. His gaze turned fierce and eagle-sharp. What happened to Ferion was no isolated incident. Malphas has enslaved others, Bel. Humans, Dark and Light Fae, Vampyres. His reach crosses over multiple demesnes.

Disappointment began to darken her hopes. None of that goes against Djinn law, just as Ferion’s debt didn’t.

I have several things to say to that. Just as he had so long ago, he pressed his lips to her forehead. Closing her eyes, she leaned into his kiss. Since Malphas has enslaved them, their behavior has changed.

She sucked in a breath. That sounded like her worst nightmare about Ferion. What do you mean?

Bank statements show them funneling money to accounts that can be traced back to his casino. In itself, that isn’t alarming, since supposedly they owed him money anyway, but some have switched political parties. A couple are committing fraud, even though the investigators could find no history of criminal behavior in their past. A few months back, there was a senator’s son who died in a boating accident—do you remember?

Her eyebrows drew together. You mean a human senator in the federal government?

Yes.

She searched her memory but came up blank. No, I’m sorry. I don’t remember. Usually, I take note of that sort of thing, and I send a message of condolence.

He stroked the back of her neck gently. You’ve been preoccupied with your own problems here.

That was true enough. What happened?

Before he was killed in the boating accident, the senator’s son spent a great deal of time at Malphas’s casino in Las Vegas. Senator Jackson, his father, arrived, paid off a debt totaling close to two million dollars and took his son home.

He couldn’t seem to stop touching her, and his small caresses were drugging her with pleasure. She rubbed her face, forcing herself to concentrate as she digested his words. Unlike us, he was able to get to his son in time.

Also, unlike us, the debt was in the official casino records. The Senator could pay it off, and Malphas couldn’t claim that only his son could clear the debt. Graydon paused. She realized he was standing on the balls of his feet, his big body poised for action. Shortly after, the son died in a freak squall.