Renegade (8 page)

Surprise flared in his eyes, and he drew an audible breath. “I never thought I’d live to hear any mage say that to me.”

A quick flash of insight hit her, of the constant wariness and lack of hope that had dogged him for six years. “Griffin, I…”

Nothing she could think to say seemed good enough. She gently pressed her lips to his.

The touch sent a flash of desire through her. Shaken, she pulled back to stare at him. The kiss in the infirmary hadn’t felt so intense.

He looked as stunned as she felt. Surprise vibrated in the air between them, and then his eyes heated.

Playing with fire, she thought as his head came down, but she couldn’t resist tipping her face up to meet him. He kissed her, a brush of warm, soft lips. Her breasts tightened.

Their lips parted, fused, tongues fencing with frantic need as the kiss deepened. She twisted onto her knees to face him fully. When he did the same, his hold tightening, her breasts flattened against his muscular frame, and the hard bulge at his groin pressed into her core.

He felt so good against her. So right. Needing more, she tightened her grip on his shoulders. Ran her hands down the sculpted planes of his back, his arms.

He trailed hot, fast, tongue-flicking kisses down her neck. As she quivered with pleasure, he took her mouth in another deep, possessive kiss. His hands cupped her butt, pulling her against his erection.

Val gasped, felt herself go damp, before another searing, insistent kiss flooded her senses. His hands roamed, molding the curves of her hips and ass, her breasts, stroking pleasure into craving. This was going too fast, rocketing out of control, but she couldn’t bear to stop him. Instead, she kissed his neck, nibbled his jaw, his ear.

He pressed hard, fast kisses over her face. When he sucked the pulse point under her ear, she moaned as greedy, needy pleasure made her clutch at him. He palmed her breast through the tank top. Her nipple tightened, and desire again flashed through her. She gave a choked cry, arching against him.

As he kneaded her flesh, she cupped his erection through his jeans. He groaned into her neck. Thrust against her hand.

When she breathed into his ear, he shuddered. His hold tightened. She nipped his jaw, her lips rasping over the stubble there.

He dragged his open mouth down her neck. Clutching him for balance, she slid a hand under his shirt to stroke his warm, muscular chest with its soft dusting of hair, and the flat pendant lying over his heart. The washboard divisions of his abs tensed at her touch.

He made a choked sound, pressing against her, and she clung to him, wanting him. Needing him.

At the edge of her neckline, he licked the valley between her breasts. Val shivered. She held his head to her, her fingers deep in the thick, inky silk of his hair. He gripped the tank’s hem, pulling it up.

If she didn’t stop him now, the tide of pleasure and need would overwhelm her.

“No,” she choked, and she caught his hand. Breathing as hard as he was, she jerked backward. Guilt and longing tore into her. “No. Griffin, we can’t do this.”

V
aleria’s pained expression hit Griff in the heart. How the hell had he lost control so fast? The kiss in the infirmary had been sweet, but this one had set him on fire.

One kiss, one taste, and all he’d been able to think about was
more
. He was rock hard, aching to have her. Instead, he released Valeria abruptly and stood, stepping away to face the water while he took control of himself. His heart raced, and he gulped in air.

“Right,” he ground out at last. “The shire reeve can’t fuck a fugitive.” That last word had never tasted so bitter, but he swallowed it. Fact was fact. He knew from past experience what a relationship with him could cost her. He ran a hand over his face. “I apologize, Valeria.”

“Don’t.” She took a ragged, audible breath. “Please, don’t. I started this.”

“Maybe, but I kept it going.” He’d also taken it farther.

His hands still held the feel of her. He jammed them into his pockets. If she knew about the venom in his blood, she wouldn’t want him to touch her. Maybe she had a right to know, but telling her now, when she was on the brink of trusting him, could blow any chance of getting her help.

“Besides, I’m not reeve right now.” Staring out at the lake, she spoke in a grim, hard voice. She’d fisted both hands on her knees. “I’m suspended, likely done.”

“What? When did this happen?” He sat beside her, folding his fingers over her tight fist, and tried to settle his breathing, reorient his brain.

They’re gunning for her
, Stefan had said. Why hadn’t he mentioned this little detail?

She flicked a glance at him and then away. “I can’t be of much use to you now, I’m afraid.”

“Never mind that. What happened?”

She shrugged but didn’t look at him. Didn’t take his hand but didn’t move hers, either. “I screwed up. Mages died.”

“They can’t blame you for that ambush. The Council always wants a scapegoat, but anyone with any tactical sense should realize you walked into a trap.”

“Thanks for calling it that.” She stared out at the water, and the light caught lines of weariness in her beautiful face. “Most everyone else is calling it my fatal fuckup.”

“What happened at the debriefing?”

“There wasn’t one. Most of the survivors were in the infirmary.” Her lips parted, as though she meant to say something else, but she only shook her head.

With two fingers, he gently turned her chin so she faced him. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Her face stayed calm, but pain lurked in her eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”

“If it didn’t, you wouldn’t hold back.” Their gazes locked. A faint hint of defiance in her expression put a different cast on things. His breath caught. “Are you…protecting me?”

“I’m doing my job. What used to be my job anyway.”

“That’s not an answer.” Had she lost her job because of him? His gut took a sick twist.

She hesitated. At last, she said, “They think I haven’t been candid about where I got my information.”

“Because you haven’t.” Confirmation flashed in her eyes. Hellfire. “I never meant to make trouble for you. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

“Thanks.” Another little shrug. “Looks like I won’t be able to help you clear your name.”

“Damn it, that doesn’t matter now. You matter.” He waited until she looked at him again. “What you’ve lost because of me matters.”

Her lips trembled. She pressed them together and, at last, turned her hand over to grip his. The contact warmed his heart as she said, “Thanks for that.”

He gently brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “I remember finding you in the gym one day when you were a cadet, about seventeen or so, I think. I asked you why you were pushing yourself so hard, if you wanted to be an Olympic athlete. You smiled, but I could tell you were serious when you said you didn’t care about gold medals, that you wanted my job one day.”

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, but they softened. “I remember. You told me to keep pushing, and I’d get there.”

“And you did. You became shire reeve at age twenty-three, two years earlier than anyone else ever has.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Sometimes, you just have to keep pushing until you get where you want to go.” Even when you didn’t see a clear path forward.

She cocked her head, studying him. “Is that how you’ve kept going so long?”

“I’ll see that your name’s cleared, Valeria.” Instead of answering her question, he kissed her knuckles.

Her fingers tightened on his, and desire slammed through him.
Crap.
He’d never responded so quickly, so intensely, to any woman.

Clearly oblivious to her effect on him, Valeria held their joined hands on her smooth, firm thigh. Leaning back against the cushions, she said, “As for what just happened—I can’t have sex with you, Griffin. Even though, obviously, I want to.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she kept her gaze level on his. “I know now what kind of man you are, but it’s too much, too fast.”

“Fair enough. Smart, too.” At her inquiring look, he added, “I’m not the best guy to get involved with.”

At least her hand still gripped his. She’d given him her precious trust, a big risk for her. “I came to help,” he said. “If you’re up for it, let’s go over the battle. Maybe together we can figure out how they fooled you.”

“Together,” she repeated. A shaky smile curved her mouth, and her eyes warmed. “You know, you’re the first person to offer something constructive.”

“I live to kick ass and take names.” He grinned at her. Her answering smile lit her face, and he fought the urge to kiss her again. Instead, he said, “Going out for dinner’s too risky, but I could pick up something.”

“Nothing’s close. I have chicken and veggies we can toss together while we talk. I just need a few minutes to shower and change.”

He followed her inside, his mind already slotting into strategic mode. Who stood to gain if she left?

Talking to Griffin was dangerous, Val concluded as they washed the dishes after dinner. He’d focused, listened, and mulled things over while they ate. She could grow to like talking with him far too much.

“That was a great meal,” he said. “Your idea of tossing something together is more like what I’d call serious cooking. I’m guessing you either like to cook or hate eating takeout.”

“Both, thanks. My mom loved to cook. So did my dad. Zara and Gene, not so much.” Thinking of her guardians, remembering Gene’s disapproval, made her throat tighten. Maybe he would relent if she could show the ambush wasn’t her fault. “So I cooked a lot. It made me feel closer to my folks.”

“It paid off for you.”

Smiling her thanks, she accepted a wet plate from him and rubbed a dish towel over it. Gran had installed a dishwasher, but using it for such a small load seemed like a waste.

The economy of movement in Dare’s fighting style translated to this task, too. His large, tanned hands scrubbed a pot and ran water over it as efficiently as his hold on his quarterstaff had shifted during the battle. As smoothly as his touch had glided over her body a little while ago.

She yanked her gaze back to the now dry plate in her hand. Putting it in the cabinet, she felt his gaze on her. She cut her eyes at him in time to see one corner of his mouth crook upward.

“What?” she asked. Maybe he wouldn’t notice, in the fading light from the kitchen window, the color rising in her face.

“Nothing.” He shook water off the pot in his hand and reached for the towel she’d set aside. “I like looking at you. Working with you.”

“We work well together.” No way he could miss her blush now, not when her cheeks felt so warm. She held out her hand. “I’ll do that. I’m drying.”

“It’s the last.” He gave the pot a final wipe and passed it over.

Their fingers brushed on the handle. Desire sparked in his eyes, turning them a rich azure, and her breathing stopped.

Griffin abruptly turned away from her. “Let’s work with your whiteboard. Map things out.”

“All right.” She stooped to put away the pot. He was respecting her boundaries. She should appreciate that, not wish he wouldn’t. Not think of dropping them herself.

Yes, he attracted her, as he would any breathing woman. But
baggage
didn’t begin to describe what he came with, and getting involved with him would destroy her last shreds of credibility with the Council.

Wineglass in hand, he studied the whiteboard on its easel by the bookcase. His position gave her an excellent view of the chambray draping his broad shoulders and the denim hugging his taut, lean butt.

Geez, Val. Grow the hell up.
She grabbed her own glass of sauvignon blanc and joined him. “See anything?”

“Nothing new.” He rubbed his free hand over his chin. “Any chance there’ll be a follow-up strike?”

As he always had required. “I didn’t order one, though I don’t know what my replacement will do. To be honest, we don’t have the trained manpower for that.” Again, guilt stabbed into her heart.

“We lost the people I’d have chosen—the best—” Their faces flashed across her mind’s eye. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t finish.

“Sometimes,” he said quietly, “being in charge sucks.”

“Yeah.” No one had ever shared that particular pain of loss with her, but he had losses of his own. His matter-of-fact sympathy eased the jagged edges in her soul.

Gene had claimed to care but hadn’t offered comfort, yet this renegade’s mere presence bolstered her.

“We’ll solve this. I swear we will.” Griffin gave Val’s shoulder a quick squeeze.

Desire ignited in her core, but Val only nodded. She had to think, not dissolve into hormonal goo, so she kept her eyes on the board. “We have to figure this out. I owe my fallen comrades that.”

Yet he’d been working alone for six years without ending the problem. Could the two of them succeed where he’d failed?

“Griffin, did you ever think that maybe working in the system would’ve been a better choice?”

His body tensed. “Not if I wanted Alden to pay for what he’d done.” He glanced down at her with hard eyes. “Do I regret the mages who died? Damned straight. But I can’t change what happened.”

Whoa.
Big
NO TRESPASSING
sign there. Maybe that was best since, as he said, he couldn’t undo anything. Still, working within the system might ultimately be his best hope of vindication. She would have to raise that carefully.

“Okay.” She shrugged. “Just asking.”

The tension in his body eased. He glanced at the diagram of the attack and then at her. “Was there something special about this nest, a reason you didn’t take it out two years ago?”

“I didn’t know about it.” She frowned at the board.

“I leaked you that information,” he said, the words crisp with impatience, “via Tina Wallace.”

Stunned, she stared at him. “The pot dealer near Scottsboro?” Just a couple of miles from Milledgeville and the nest. “Tina’s a reliable snitch. Or was.” Until she disappeared. “She…Griffin, are you sure?”

He raised an eyebrow. Of course he was sure.

“When did you send the tip?” she asked. Dread of his answer twisted in her heart.

“Mid-April, year before last.” His eyes narrowed, concerned. “Valeria, what is it?”

She took a shaky breath. “Tina disappeared about that time. I figured she just moved on, maybe because the Mundane sheriff was getting suspicious.”

“But maybe not,” he said softly. “You think not.”

“If she’d come in with a tip like that, and someone didn’t want me to know…”

“Too much of a coincidence,” he said.

“Yes. I didn’t look for her. God, I wish I had. You had several nests listed that were new to me, and now you tell me this. Another witness recently disappeared. Seems there’re even bigger problems in intel and recon than I suspected.”

Fighting for control, she turned away from him. A kick in the face would’ve shocked her less than this kind of betrayal. Her chest felt tight, and her stomach roiled.

He stepped closer to grip her shoulder, but he didn’t use magic, only warm, solid, steadying contact. She covered his hand with hers. For just a moment, she let herself lean against him.

“Treachery is never easy to believe,” he said. “Or to understand.” He drew her close with an arm around her waist and rested his cheek against her hair. “Take a minute.”

There spoke the voice of experience. He’d lived with treachery for years now, had lost those he cared for to it. Maybe her stomach would settle if she didn’t think. Relaxing against him, she closed her eyes and took deep, slow breaths. In, out. In, out. No thinking.

The churning in her stomach lessened, and her breathing steadied. Now she noticed the warmth of his muscular frame, remembered the feel of it under her hands, the feel of his hands on her.

She also sensed the desire he held in check. Heat sparked low in her belly. Letting him hold her felt so good.

As though he caught her reaction in the magic, and he likely did, his fingers caressed her waist. He rubbed his face lightly against her hair.

If she kissed him now, when she was hurting so much, she probably wouldn’t be able to stop. And that would be a mistake.

She jerked away from him. “I need water.” The words emerged low and smoky. She didn’t dare look at him. Instead, she stalked into the kitchen.

He didn’t follow. In the corner of her eye, she saw a muscle work in his tight jaw. He took a big gulp of wine. She turned her back and headed for the fridge. Putting ice in a glass, running the water, taking a swallow steadied her.

When she returned to the living room, he gestured at the board with his wineglass. “Why are mages protecting ghoul nests? And why would the ghouls suddenly think to plant mines on their perimeter?”

“I’d love to know. Of course, they could’ve gotten the idea from any number of movies and TV shows.”

“Those kinds of shows have been around for years. So, again, why now?”

“Could there be something special about that nest? Something they don’t want anyone to find?” She rubbed a finger along the cool rim of her glass. “The ghouls who captured me had an amulet that blocked my power. If I hadn’t gotten it off before the car stopped, I wouldn’t have lived to call for help.”