Page 77 of Heimlock

It’s late, with the moons high in the sky, by the time we land. I shift and carry the duffle bag in one hand. She holds the other, intertwining our fingers so naturally it’s like we were born into this world doing it. I keep glancing down, struggling to process the gentle affection.

Sieve’s sitting at the same table, looking over paperwork. The rest of the building is quiet, minus a wailing baby somewhere.

He frowns deeply. “Why in the twelve Heavens do you both look like you just went to battle?”

Kyrielle and I exchange glances. I don’t know what I look like, but she’s covered in grass, dirt, ash, and blood.

She gives Sieve a sheepish grin. “Is plausible deniability a good enough excuse?”

Sieve sighs. “Yes. Who is the bag for?”

“Janeeka.”

Understanding appears to dawn, and he motions with a hand impatiently. “I’ll make sure she receives it in the morning.”

I’m relieved to know he’s not going to make a big deal out of it. Which means this isn’t the first time she’s shown up looking like a mess. Kyrielle deposits it on the table with a loud thump. “Let her know everything is taken care of.”

Sieve narrows his bright, wrinkled eyes. “Plausible deniability, Kyrielle. Plausible.”

“What?” she says it so innocently; I crack a smile. “I could be discussing watering her plants, Sieve. What were you thinking of?”

The old man shakes his head. “I’m thinking it’s late and the two of you should head home for a shower.”

“Yes, sir,” Kyrielle grins. “See you in a couple of days.”

He waves her away with an exhausted flip of his hand. “Fly safe, you two. It was nice to meet you, Trinte.”

“You, too.”

I follow Kyrielle outside. When the front door closes behind us, she turns to face me. She brushes a strand of orange hair out of her face. “Well, that was certainly more exciting than expected. Thanks for tagging along.”

I step close enough to inhale her scent of vanilla. “Do you go to those things alone a lot?”

My anger grows when she nods. “I mean, yeah. Out of everyone here, I’m the most qualified.”

My disapproving growl comes out low. “You’re never doing that alone ever again.”

She does a double-take, scrunching her nose in disgust. “Excuse you?”

When I narrow the gap between us until the heat of our bodies mingles without touching, I rub a thumb against a smear of ash on her cheek.

In a low voice, I say, “What I mean to say is that I’ll go with you next time. You could’ve died tonight if I hadn’t been there.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Giving her the most serious look I’ll probably ever deliver, I say, “You’re taking me with you. I’ll sit on the grass like a lawn ornament if you want, but you’re going to call me next time. Understood?”

My fingers slide to behind her head, where the ponytail swings. Deftly wrapping it around my wrist, I give it the tiniest of tugs. She inhales, lips parting in surprise. Like it did all those months ago.

When she doesn’t respond, I give the ponytail another firm tug. Her body jerks forward, flushing her chest against my stomach. I stifle a groan, unfortunately desperate for so much more. This entire evening has been an exercise in being objective; to see what Kyrielle really is all about.

Bringing my mouth to her ear, just how she likes, I let my voice rumble against her skin. “Am I understood?”

She swallows hard, then rasps out, “Yes.”

I loosen my grip on her hair. The willpower required to not kiss her is astounding. Releasing a shuddering breath, trying not to make this moment into anything more intense, I ask, “Do you need a ride home?”

Kyrielle looks at me with a dazed expression. “Huh? What?”