that where the wolves pit vampires against one another to the death?” she asked eagerly.
“Yes.” He narrowed a brow on her. “I’m sensing far too much curiosity in your tone. Don’t tell me you’d actually watch such a match.”
“Uh...” Apparently, a bloody good match did not appeal to her new husband. It had been a great way to pass the time in Faery, watching the trolls beat the rock-shifters to a dusty pulp. “No. ’Course not.”
She’d best not tell him about the kelpie matches that had entertained the court on many occasions. She had made a pretty mint betting on those fights. She did have her talents.
“Bloody fights? Ugh.” She screwed her mouth into a distasteful moue. “That’s nasty stuff.”
“It is. As well, we keep an eye on all irregular activity among the local packs. I’ve a new case that landed on my desk. It’s a strange one. Vamps who have escaped from the packs’ clutches are dying. In strange ways. Lots of investigating in the coming days, I’m sure.”
“Sounds boring. Except the part where you might have to break up a fight.”
“Admit it. You love a good fight.”
“For the right reasons.”
“When is fighting ever for a good reason?”
“When it’s to protect yourself from the stupidity of others,” she said without thinking. “Just because a person is different doesn’t mean it’s okay to beat on them.”
Kir tilted such a concerned gaze on her that Bea had to think about what she’d just said. Oops. That had revealed a little more than she’d intended. She didn’t trust him that much. Time to redirect this conversation.
“So let me guess, you must have some kind of record book on all the wolves, eh? A means to find out information about them?”
“We do, but it’s not a book. Our files are digital. The database is vast and covers other species, as well. We recently managed to tap into the Order of the Stake’s computer database and downloaded their files before they could put up a firewall.”
“Everything you said sounded like gobbledygook to me. And I tend to like gobbledygook. So long as it’s warm.”
Kir stood and paced to the triangular window sized as large as the wall that looked out over the front yard and the street below.
“Let’s just say we can look up info on pretty much any paranormal species within Europe and the outlying countries. Comes in handy when we need to crack a case.”
“So, do you list faeries in that database?”
“No.” He returned to the bed and sat beside her. Brushing the hair from her face, he lingered with the tip of his finger on her ear-point. “Your realm is like another planet to us who live in the mortal realm.”
“Yeah, well, this realm is more than kooky. I mean, mortals walk around with dogs on leashes. How cruel is that? And cars.” She shuddered. “So much iron.”
“Why all the questions about the database?”
“I, uh...” She toyed with the green sandal strap.
Dare she tell him? If she didn’t, she had no clue where to begin her search in this big, vast city. A city that may not even be the correct starting place for her search. How to know where to begin?
Going up on her knees before him, Bea trailed her fingers down the front of his leather vest, landing at his hip, where a tuft of her pink panty stuck out from the pants pocket. “There is something I want, beyond all these pretty material things you’ve given me.”
“Tell me. I’d like to know what would make you happy.”
She believed that he did, too. The wolf was kind. He had valiantly accepted the challenge his pack had asked of him because to refuse would go against some kind of honorable code he obeyed. At least, that’s how she dreamed he was. This knight’s armor was fashioned from leather and truth.
“Bea?”
“It’s something I’ve wanted since I was a child and I used to sit in the shadows watching my half sisters and brothers play. They’d always exclude me because Malrick made it known how unfavorable I was. The dark one.”
He stroked her hair, and she flinched at the soft touch. She hadn’t expected such tenderness from a growly wolf. And when her teardrop landed on his wrist, she quickly swiped it away and turned her shoulder to him, coiling forward as she sniffed back more tears.
What was this? She didn’t cry. She was too tough for that. Her skin had hardened to armor over the years of neglect and abuse. Where had she put her blade? Stones, but she had lost track of it!
Kir embraced her, and he tugged her against his chest even as she tried to pull away to escape the unwanted kindness. She wasn’t deserving. She was the dark one. The one no one wanted to touch.
And then something inside her cracked open and reached out for the touch. For a moment of understanding. She sank into Kir’s arms and he cradled her to his warm chest, his heartbeats lulling her, urging her to curl up against him and tuck her head beneath his chin.
“All I want,” she whispered, “is to find my mother.”
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