Chapter Twenty

With shaking hands, Rowan stripped off her clothes and dressed in her favorite tank top and flannel pajama pants. What on earth had she been thinking, kissing Grey like that? Spending the evening with him, fantasizing that she was exactly the person she pretended to be and the desire she couldn’t miss in his gaze, in his touch, was something she was allowed to act upon.

The ache in her heart had turned into a torment. Each word, each moment shared felt like the tip of a knife slipping between her ribs and twisting, because she knew she had to go. Gods, she’d been tempted to take him up on the offer the heat in his eyes had been making.

Just one night together. Something to remember…

What would he say if she told him the truth?

Not who she was, but the fact that his mere nearness had her body humming with a strange electricity, a slow burn of desire that sizzled under the surface every time he appeared. Her body didn’t do that with other men, even previous boyfriends.

She rubbed at the heat branding the inside of her wrist. The lines there had been on fire all night. She flipped her hand over and gasped. The faint white lines had solidified and come together, now appearing more like a tattoo, the design clear. A sigil, simple and flowing, the design was fascinating. If she guessed correctly, the sign was the sigil for the house of Masters.

“Magi by damned,” she whispered in a broken voice.

The only sigil marks that showed up like a tattoo were those of a bonding—the mark a witch and warlock shared a sacred magically created connection. A vow.

Shifters tended to rely entirely on a fate bond for mating. But the occurrence among mages was possible through magic. Only many didn’t take the option. Love and trust had to be unquestionable, because the act could change their magic.

Only wouldn’t they have had to both agree to the spell?

Besides, Grey had said nothing. He had barely noticed shocking her when he’d touched her the day they met, and this mark had taken time to form. Therefore, this couldn’t be a bonding. Could it?

She had three fucking days to clear out of here and draw the wolves hunting her away from Grey and the girls. What were the fates thinking? She’d ask the girls, but they still had no clue what they were predicting or why.

A bonding? Now?

This must be something else. It had to be.

But the only person she could ask would be Grey himself.

Rowan shook her head. No. She’d concentrate on her plan and deal with the wolf shifters. Then she’d confess everything to Grey and put herself in his hands. And…after all that…if this mark remained and he hadn’t killed her, she would ask him about it.

But not before.

She startled as Nefertiti wound around her ankles, rubbing against her in a show of comfort. Absently, Rowan reached down to pet her soft fur. “What am I going to do, Nefti?”

Nefti turned up her little pink nose and began washing herself, and Rowan shook her head. Like most cats, Nefti didn’t deign to talk to a human. Even one she liked.

That cold chill passed through her body, shaking a shiver down her spine, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Right now, she needed help. Rowan hopped off her bed and snatched her purse from where she’d dropped it on the floor when she’d come home earlier. She fished out her cell phone and called Delilah.

“Rowan?”

“I’m in trouble, and I need your help.”

“Is it Greyson?”

“Not the way you think.” Quickly, Rowan explained the falcon’s warning.

“We need to get you out of there. Now.”

Rowan’s heart, already heavy, dropped into her stomach. She’d known that was the answer, but the thought of leaving Grey, leaving the girls… She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. There was no other way.

“What if that leaves Grey and the girls vulnerable? They don’t know danger is coming. I should tell Grey—”

“No. Not yet.”

Rowan frowned at her phone. “Why do you say that?”

“Let’s just say I have a Seer on staff. If Greyson finds out who you are now, things won’t work out.”

Rowan swallowed, that knife twisting deeper into her heart. Did that mean she’d die? Could Grey really kill her?

I’m a damn fool for ever thinking love could’ve been at the end of this twisted yellow brick road.

She didn’t ask for clarification. She didn’t want to know. They had more immediate issues. “I need to make sure they’re okay.”

“I could call Tala and Marrok, have them surround the place.”

As much as the idea of fighting fire with fire appealed, Rowan couldn’t ask the wolf shifter couple to help her again. They’d already done too much for a witch who technically attacked them. Besides… “More wolves might attract Kaios’s lover. She’ll want retribution against them, too. Warn them, but don’t send them. Can we lay a false track for me, like you did from that cabin in the woods? Draw the wolves away from Grey and the girls?”

“Yes. That’s possible. I can’t guarantee they’ll go for it. It’s not foolproof.”

“Okay.” Rowan thought hard. “I’ll drive out of here and teleport back.”

“That won’t work. The shifters will still sense your presence if you return. And you risk them controlling you. If Kaios had a lover no one knew about, she must be powerful.”

“They won’t sense me if I’m a wraith.”

She’d hide herself in the spirit realm, again, like she had when she’d kept Grey from seeing all those memories correctly. As long as she didn’t use her magic while in that form, she should be okay for a few days at least. She could watch over Grey and the girls, at least for a short while, to assure herself of their safety. Despite the trepidation that shook her at the thought of returning to that numb place, she had to do this. She couldn’t remain that way for longer than four days, just to be safe, as Tanya had said five, without risking becoming permanently spectral. No magic would discover her, and no wolves could control her from the nether world.

“Are you sure?” Delilah asked.

For Grey and the girls, the risk was worth taking. “Yes.”

“Okay. While you’re doing that, I’ll do my own hunting.”

Rowan assumed that meant going after the wolves themselves with whatever means were at Delilah’s disposal. Hopefully, this issue could be handled.

“After this is over, I’m telling Grey everything.” She’d turn herself in to Grey and the Covens Syndicate and pray they didn’t kill her before they questioned her.

“Let’s see how everything goes first. I’ll…have a chat with my Seer.”

“Fine.” Regardless of the Seer, she’d tell him the truth. Love had to start with trust. After she told him the truth, that might never happen for him, but she had to try. “Thank you, Delilah.”

“Good luck.”

Rowan hung up and tossed her phone on the bed. She needed to pack and disappear. But first, she had to tell Grey she needed to leave.

She hurried up the stairs. The house lay peacefully quiet, and she didn’t bother to turn on any lights as she moved on silent bare feet through the halls, moving quickly at a half run.

And slammed into a solid chest as he stepped out of his room—bare, warm, and muscled if her fingertips told the truth. “Grey,” she gasped.

Time suspended as they locked gazes. As if the moments between when she’d had her mouth on his and now hadn’t happened. Only he did nothing, though his fingers curled around her arms tightened with each passing tick of the grandfather clock. The need undeniable. And dammit, she didn’t want to keep rejecting it. Rejecting him. Because…

“Kiss me, Grey. Please.”

In answer he yanked her into his arms and crashed his mouth upon hers, taking her lips in a searing kiss. Her body flared to glorious life under his touch. With a bold tongue, he demanded, and she gave everything he asked, opening to him, matching him thrust for thrust, every thought of what she needed to do fleeing her mind as liquid heat rushed through her in a lava flow of need.

He pulled back with a sharply indrawn breath. “Thank the gods. I was coming down to you. You feel it, too, don’t you? This thing between us.”

Her chore pushed aside by blazing need, which demanded nothing less than surrender, she nodded. “Yes. But I thought…Persephone?”

He shook his head. “I never encouraged her.”

Thank the gods. Rowan hated the idea of him with that stuck-up witch.

He brushed a strand of hair back from her face, then leaned in to nuzzle her neck. “Stay with me tonight?”

One night just for her, for them—that was all she could give.

Again, she nodded, even as she stood on tiptoe, seeking his lips with her own. “Yes,” she whispered against his mouth, and he crushed her to him.

Backing her up, Grey pressed her against a wall, his body solid and warm, pinning her there while his mouth ravaged hers. With a surprisingly light touch that sent shivers cascading over her skin and down her spine, he traced down her arms with both hands, then in a sudden move, took her by the wrists and pinned her hands above her head.

Rowan cried out as the sigil on the inside of her wrist, already on fire, flared to excruciating life at his touch. Heat flooded her blood and through her body to the throbbing juncture at her thighs.

Sweet heaven above, he might make her come simply by touching that mark.

Holding her arms with one hand, he trailed his other hand down to cup the heavy weight of her breast. Rowan gasped as her nipples peaked eagerly, seeking his touch even through her T-shirt.

“So sensitive,” he murmured against her lips, satisfaction tingeing the words.

In answer Rowan tugged at her wrists, asking him to release her, then snuck her hand between them to where his hard length pressed against the zipper of his jeans. She stroked down the ridge of his erection, eliciting a groan.

“Mmmmm. So sensitive,” she echoed his words, right down to the tone of satisfaction. And then took it a step further. “I wonder if it would be just as sensitive if I licked?”

She caught the white flash of his grin in the moonlit hallway. “Witch.”

Before she could respond, he claimed her lips again, branding them his as much as the mark on her wrist did. Could she deny now the sigil was a bonding mark? Did she want to?

“Grey,” she whispered between kisses.

“Yeah?”

“Take me to your bedroom.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. Rowan gasped as he scooped her into his arms. With a well-placed kick of his foot, he knocked the door to his room open and marched across the floor. But, instead of rushing through the next moments, he slowly lowered her to the bed, the look in his eyes—intense, needy, and demanding—stealing her breath. No one had ever looked at her with such…adoration. She swallowed against the swell of emotion his gaze pulled out of her.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured, his low voice humming through her.

Forgetting herself, unable to resist the urge…resist him…anymore, she whispered a quick set of words. In an instant, their clothes disappeared, leaving them naked, the cool air against her heated skin only adding to the sensuous pleasure that held her in its grip.

Grey laughed. “And so damn surprising.”

He leaned in to her, the weight and warmth of his body against hers, skin against skin, hard against soft, rough against silky smooth, delicious. “I didn’t see you coming, but I’m happy you are part of our lives.”

A stab of guilt arrowed through her but dissipated as he took her lips once more. He explored her with agonizing slowness, each caress, each taste of her deliberate and savored, driving her need for him higher and higher.

At the same time, she explored every inch she could reach, reveling in the hard, hot body under her fingertips, under her mouth. Gods, he smelled amazing, all pine and musk and man.

He moved down her body and took one pink nipple between his teeth, tugging gently, shooting sparks to her core and her wrist.

Rowan moved against him restlessly. “Grey,” she moaned. And hoped he got the message. She needed him. Now.

“I know,” he murmured against her breast. “I feel it, too.”

He moved between her legs, positioning himself at her entrance. A spell whispered between his lips, protecting them both without the need for a condom, a bonus of being a witch. Then he pushed inside her slick heat in one long, slow move.

Rowan gasped as he filled her, the pressure sending her to a space in her head that turned almost floaty.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes. Gods, yes,” she moaned.

Grey flashed a grin, then took her hands and positioned her arms above her head. Gazing deeply into her eyes, he started to move, pumping into her, lighting already sensitive nerves on fire with each thrust.

Rowan lost herself in his dark gaze, in the sensations flowing through her. She couldn’t hold back the small sounds of pleasure keening out of her. Grey’s own groans mingled with hers as he started moving faster.

Her orgasm came up on her fast, tingling low and then exploding out from there. Lights flashed behind her eyes in a dance of color as pure ecstasy shot through every nerve in her body. At the same time, Grey threw back his head with a shout, his body jerking as he spilled into her. The mark on her wrist burst with a pleasure so intense it spiraled her body into a second orgasm that went on and on.

And every moment she drowned in the possessive need staring down at her from Grey’s eyes.

Once her body stopped shuddering, Grey pulled out, another spell cleaning them both up, then pulled her into his arms, yanking the covers over their hips. He laid a soft kiss on her shoulder as she sighed into the fading bliss, her body languorous and replete.

The afterglow of making love with Grey had Rowan unwilling to move. His heart thudded steadily beneath her cheek, the sound strangely comforting, reassuring.

Unable to help herself—the compulsion to touch too strong to ignore—she traced a fingertip over the tattooed sigil of his family name over his heart—this one a normal tattoo in black ink. The design matched the white lines on the inside of her wrist, which showed with even more clarity. No way could she deny the mark on her arm was his family sigil now. But hopefully he hadn’t seen the glow. She couldn’t show him. Not when she was about to do a disappearing act, taking the threat of attack with her.

“You truly are a witch, Rowan McAuliffe.”

She smiled at his words, even as she reveled in the shiver his deep voice caused to ripple over her nerves. “Oh?”

“I don’t lose control like that. Ever.”

Surprise at his admission had Rowan lifting her head. She caught a flash of shock in Grey’s eyes and grinned, pure feminine triumph thrumming through her. “I guess you kind of like me.”

He gave his head a shake, lips tugged down in rueful amusement. “I hope that’s obvious.” He indicated their naked forms with a wave, then cupped her jaw with his hand, ensuring she looked him in the eyes. “What’s more…I trust you.”

Forget a slow twisting knife. Guilt lanced through her on a spike of pain, impaling her and stealing her happiness. And the smile fell from her lips. “You shouldn’t.”

Taking the sheets with her, embarrassed about her exposed state now, she sat up. Grey’s eyes darkened as he took in both her verbal and physical rejection. “Rowan?”

She grimaced and rushed through what she had to say. “I talked to Delilah tonight.”

He scooted up in bed, and she had to clench her hands to keep from reaching out to touch the enticing ridges of his stomach. “Oh?”

She licked dry lips. Now that the time had come, she dreaded what she had to do. But she had to. However, the excuses she’d come up with earlier seemed trite now. After what they’d shared, Grey deserved the truth. But telling him at this moment would result in one of two unsavory results. Either he’d turn her over to the Syndicate, or he’d insist on protecting her himself.

No. She’d deal with Kaios’s lover and her shifters, with Delilah’s help, and then she’d admit all. Stick to the plan.

However, she couldn’t tell him the plan naked, because she suspected a hasty exit would be in order. Scooting off the bed, sheet wrapped around her toga style, she gathered her clothes strewn about the room, thanks to her earlier spell, and set about getting dressed. Grey watched in silence, not moving from where he lay on the bed.

Finally, she turned to face him, chin jutted out. “Delilah is going to be sending you a new nanny.” She gave a regretful smile. “A…better one.”

Grey jerked upright, eyebrows drawn down in a scowl. “What are you talking about? You’re perfect for the girls. For m— For our family.”

Rowan shook her head hard, backing up, her hair flying wildly about her face, and she probably resembled a banshee. “Delilah has an urgent need for me with…another family. Something she insists only I can handle.”

Grey moved. Unashamed of his undressed form, he jumped out of the bed and pulled his jeans on, leaving the top unbuttoned. Even now, she itched to shuck them back off his body and tumble them both back into bed.

He moved in front of her and gripped her arms. But he didn’t face her with anger now, only concern. “What could be so urgent a witch with limited magic could fix it? Let me help. Leaving here is not the answer.”

Hounds of hell, this was harder than she’d anticipated. “I gave her my word.”

He gave her a little shake. “You gave me your word. The girls will be devastated.”

Tears pressing against her eyes, Rowan held on to the knowledge that what she was doing was for the girls’ protection. “I’m hoping it’ll be for only a few weeks. Then…we’ll see.” He wouldn’t want to keep her around then anyway.

Grey released her arms, his falling limply to his sides. “So…you’re not leaving forever. Only for a few weeks to help out Delilah.”

If he’d accept that story, then… “Yes.”

He huffed out a laugh, running his hand through his hair. “Sorry about that. I thought you meant—”

She shook her head, hiding her misery. “My fault. I wasn’t clear.”

He bent and retrieved his shirt, pulling it over his head. “When do you leave?”

Rowan swallowed. “In the morning. Early, since I have to drive. My…er…backup should arrive in a few days.”

Breath punching from him, he reached for her, tugging her into his arms to rest his chin on top of her head. Releasing her own pent-up breath, she relaxed into him, soaking in his solid presence, the mark on her arm warming in a comforting way, like a cozy cup of tea by the fire. Only it couldn’t last. When he found out…

Grey’s deep tones rumbled under her cheek. “I would suggest we spend the rest of the night making love, but if you’re driving, you should sleep.”

Disappointment wanted to drown out her common sense. That voice of reason growing more and more faint under the cacophony of her clamoring needs. “Yeah.”

“Stay with me?”

She screwed up her face. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He held up a hand, oath style. “Just sleep. I swear.”

No way was she denying herself that luxury or the precious memory of sleeping in his arms. “Okay.”

Leaving their clothes on, they lay down, wrapped up in each other.

“Sleep,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

To her utter surprise, she did, absorbing every moment she had in his arms and doing her best not to think about tomorrow.