Dierdre gathered up the jar that’d been full of Unbreaking Potion before I’d been dragged into the Garden Courtyard by my team and given the good stuff. She slipped quietly out, her eyes puffy but her steps confident as she went.
I looked at Nic, still lingering with me, Brandon’s best friend, my sometimes-lover, my team leader.
My old team leader.
They had to go, of course. They’d been dark for so long. They needed to eat, sleep, decompress and exist. But they’d stood by me in the aftermath, and that meant the world to me.
“Still have no idea,” Nic said, grimly. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
I’d heard it about a dozen times. My head hurt. My heart hurt more. I didn’t care why the ward had broken but still held. It made no sense; I couldn’t cast a multilayered ward because there was no such thing. Maybe at some point I’d figure out what had happened. How the angel had shattered the first layer of protection—which should’ve been the only one—but still, somehow, been contained. Even if I could do that sort of spell, why hadn’t I been possessed? Why had the major banishment spell worked even without a sacrifice?
I didn’t care, right then.
Lilith was totally fine. She’d been showing some of my team her illusions and transmutations while Davo patched her up with his wicked battlefield medic magick. Arthur was already helping contact folks to get the shrine repaired.
Clint was, unfortunately, alive. And, of course, he’d made a pass at Dierdre.
What a shame that she’d fumbled one of her potions. Just a minor potion, of course—one to settle upset bowels in small doses. Or trigger uncontrollable vomiting in large doses. And it wasn’t Dierdre’s fault he’d breathed in a large dose. We’d all seen it. He’d just sat there in the vapors, inhaling them. Himself. Without any assistance. Fully conscious. Weird choice, but it wasn’t like I’d made him.
“Hey,” Nic said, quietly, nudging my foot. “You still got it, Sunshine. I saw you, today.”
The invitation inferred in the words was one I’d been waiting for. I looked at his face, the hollows from lack of sleep, the grey hairs in his beard.
“It’s tempting,” I admitted, quietly. “But not because of the work.” And it didn’t matter how tempting it was. I couldn’t do that anymore. It wasn’t good for me.
He snorted, slapping the flat of his cricket-bat shaped staff on his leg. “Fuck the work. Started planning my exit strategy. You’re the first Australian Retrievals to leave a full-time team not in a body bag, you know?”
“I know.” Through the sprawling jungle of the garden courtyard, I saw my favorite detective approaching. He wasn’t wearing his tactical gear and he looked like he’d just done a bunch of the paperwork I was currently avoiding.
Nic turned, a bit of a smile tugging at his mouth as he saw Taig. He gave me a friendly shove with his staff. “Want me to read it real quick?” he offered, wiggling his brows. “Friendly neighborhood Oracle here, at your service. Discount price.”
The afternoon sun filtered through, soft and safe. Me and my aching head rested back against the exotic tree. Nic could’ve told me some possible futures, warned me of some possible pitfalls.
“I got it,” I told him, knocking his staff off my shoulder. I kind of wanted to figure it out on my own. “Go on. Fuck off. Think of me after Samhain.”
He snorted and pressed a kiss to my head. “You always were smarter than we gave you credit for. Blessed be, bitch,” he said, a smile in his voice. “Say hi to your dad and Oma for me.” And his steps were almost silent as he walked along the half-overgrown path.
I breathed deep and didn’t try to make sense of any of it. I didn’t need to, now. That would come later. I heard Taig settle beside me. “Most folks have cleared out now,” he said, sounding tired.
It was done. They’d banished the angel. The last of the Amors were gone. Paperwork would be coming, but wasn’t it always?
“How’s the head?”
“Shit.”
He made a noise of agreement. “I hear you’re a fully-fledged Caretaker again. Looks like there was an angel involved after all. Who knew?”
I rolled my eyes, which meant I had to open them. He was half-flopped against another trunk of the same tree I’d claimed. “Ten bucks Clint’ll try to say it’s a demon when he finishes ralphing all over the place.”
Against the tree Taig rolled his head, almost lazily, in my direction. Grit had gathered in the laugh lines around his mouth and the furrows of his brow. My heart ached pleasantly at the sight. “There are two kinds of arsehole in this world,” he said, wisely. “And Clint is both of them.”
“Yeah.” My fingers itched to reach out and touch the deep lines carved into his skin and smooth away all those extra years he didn’t need to carry.
He almost hadn’t carried them.
“So.” Clearing my throat, I tried to sit up and searched for something to say and some way to say it. The anxiety was there, under the surface, humming. Normal, really. But we were okay. “How much do you remember?”
He straightened with a sigh, eyeing me off. “I definitely remember you kissing me then ripping the angel out of me. If that’s what you’re asking.”
I fought the urge to shuffle my feet. “Yeah. Kind of awkward way to have a first kiss.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “Don’t know that I’d count it as our first, myself.” Before I could figure out what that meant, he said, voice rough and low, “I hope you’re not into threesomes. Because after that, I am going to really struggle.”
Shock and relief ran through me in equal amounts. “Huh. That’s your biggest concern?”
“Aside from the fact you literally attempted to sacrifice yourself for all of us?” he closed his eyes. “You’ve got a hero complex, and I don’t know I like it.”
I sat on the bench beside him, boneless, and stared into the garden.
He knew what had gone down. All of it. Fuck. There went my last hope of just pretending like the whole thing was just standard Retrievals protocol.
I didn’t have a single drop of courage left. “I need to sort myself out, Taig.”
He reached up and rubbed one palm over his cheek. The rasp of stubble against calluses made a funny scratchy noise, and what did it say about me that I just wanted to nestle my face against that same spot like a cat?
With a bit of a frown, he considered me. “That can’t possibly be why you kissed me like you were pouring your soul into me. Pretty sure the angel would’ve known if that was fake.”
“Pretty sure it would’ve,” I agreed, feeling small and vulnerable. “It wasn’t. Fake.”
“Okay. Well. If the problem is your quality versus mine, since you seem prone to beating yourself up about stuff,” he closed his eyes again, kicked out his legs and settled back on his hands. “You’re not as shit hot as you think. Couldn’t even take an angel solo, even with all the laws you broke. We must be made to be together.”
Before I could respond a couple wandered through the gardens. How the fuck the public were still allowed in the area I had no idea, but there it was.
“I should go,” I said, hyperaware that I could barely string two thoughts together.
“Sure. I just wanted to see you.” And he straightened, looking at me apologetically. “Sorry. I know you had a pretty major spell broken. And.” He waved a hand at my arm.
I looked down at the bandage. “Pain block.” Shit didn’t work on my head, but Dierdre’s potions did. And they tasted better than Arthur’s, too. I’d gotten off lightly.
I didn’t know what came next. I had no promises for him. I sure wasn’t ready to hear any, either. The silence grew and stretched. I tried to just…exist, here, with him.
It wasn’t so bad. Uncomfortable, disconcerting, but not so bad.
“Any ideas what’s going on with the faeries?” he asked me.
“No.” I shifted a little. I’d forgotten about the faeries. “Let’s cross that bridge later.”
“Okay.” He tipped his head back again and shut his eyes. “I’m totally consenting to any form of affection. So you know. Feel free but not obligated.”
I blinked at him. “I’m sorry?”
“Well, if you wanted to plant an angel-free kiss on me. That’d be great. Probably healing. Pretty sure I read research about that. Yeah.” He let out a long breath. “I think I’m crashing, Rory.”
I was lost. The man still made me melt when I felt about as sexy as an old work boot.
I let myself lean my weight on him, and rested my head on his shoulder. He smelled like stress, gunpowder, and sandalwood. “Hey. At least I can now give you a killer nickname,” I said, the idea popping into my head unbidden.
He turned his face into my hair. I wanted to stay there, right there, in the dappled shade of the winter afternoon. “What?”
“Angel,” I offered, wiggling my brows.
He shuddered, pulled back. “Ugh. No. Too soon.”
The man had almost had his soul banished. Today. A few hours ago. I wanted to go with him when he pulled away, to press myself against his back. The desire made me feel like a steaming pile of shit. “Yeah, sorry. My brain is fried. It wasn’t funny. I shouldn’t have teased.” And, because I was human, I put that guilt aside and focused on what was important.
We’d banished a terrifying fucking angel, and no one I gave a damn about had died. And, even with all my screw-ups, I’d helped get us here. I didn’t need to forgive myself for putting my foot in my mouth.
He glanced back at me, a bit of a smile tugging at his mouth. “I’ll, ah.” He shook his head and moving slowly, touching his forehead to mine. “I like it when you tease me, usually. Just beware ties. Especially black ones that you want adjusted. Tease me with one of those, my heart may very well just explode.”
The memory made me sad. I wished I’d grabbed him and held on. “We should’ve skipped that boring party.” But we were here.
“We should’ve done a lot of things,” he said, the words slow and sad. “Hindsight is twenty-twenty. We’ve got now, though.”
“We’ve got now,” I agreed, feeling disoriented at how he was echoing my own tired thoughts.
Slowly I lifted my hand, giving in to the urge to run the back of my fingers against his jaw, his cheek. My heart bumped and rolled in my chest. The softness of his skin, the roughness of his beard, felt wonderful. He smelled wrong, but that was okay. He’d be okay.
“Now is terrifying,” I admitted, quietly, cupping his face in my hands.
“Yeah.” He turned his lips into my palm. “But, the thing is, it wouldn’t be terrifying if it wasn’t important.” I searched his face, wishing I had something to give him right now, wishing I had the courage to take what he offered. “I’ll be here,” he said, quietly. “When you’re ready to be terrified alongside me. It’ll be easier together.”
Warmth rushed through me. He was absolutely right. This was important. This was real. And we could do it, together—at our pace, without losing ourselves.
* * *
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