On the Edge (The Edge #1)(16)
Author: Ilona Andrews

The blueblood stopped by the stain and glanced at her. She crossed her arms. He held out his hand, inviting her to join him. Fat chance.

"Please grace me with your presence," he said as if she were a lady at some ball and he was inviting her on a balcony for a private chat.

He was mocking her. She bristled. "I can see everything from here."

"Do you care for your brothers?"

"Of course I do."

"Then I fail to understand why you take their safety so lightly. Come here, please. Or should I carry you?"

She jumped off the porch and walked over. "I’d like to see you try."

"Don’t tempt me." He knelt by the stain and held his hand above it. The power coalesced below his palm. He murmured something in a language she didn’t understand. The magic flowed, following his words, and the smoke condensed into a shape.

An awful beast stared at her. It was tall and long, with the deep chest and hindquarters of a greyhound. Its head on a long neck was almost horse-like in shape, except for the four dull gray slits of the slanted eyes. The creature’s paws were disproportionately large, their fingers long and armed with three-inch claws. The thought of those claws ripping into Jack made Rose gulp.

Obeying the wave of the blueblood’s hand, the beast opened his mouth. Its head nearly split in half, its maw gaping wide, wider, showing rows of triangular teeth, bloodred and serrated, designed to shred meat.

"There were two of them," the blueblood said softly. "One came from the left and the other from behind the house. They stalked Jack and meant to kill him. I understand that your education is lacking and you don’t trust me, so listen to your instincts instead: you know that this is an aberration. This isn’t an animal, but something else entirely. Put your hand into it."

"What?"

"Touch it. You’ll feel the residual traces of its magic. It won’t harm you."

Cautiously Rose touched the smoke. Her fingers tingled with magic, and she felt it, an awful sensation of touching something slimy and rotting, yet coarse, as if she’d stuck her hand into a putrid carcass and found it filled with sharp grains of sand. She recoiled.

That wasn’t enough. She had to learn more.

Rose forced her fingers back into the smoke. The revolting sensation claimed her hand again, and she grimaced, looking away, but held her hand within the creature. Her fingers numbed, and then she sensed a distant echo of foul magic, pulsing like a live wire within the memory of the beast. It was an alien magic, impassive and cold like the blackness between the stars. Rose withdrew her hand and shook it, trying to fling the memory of the feeling from her fingers. He was right. This was no natural animal.

The blueblood collapsed the smoke shape and offered her his hand. "Touch me."

She stared at his palm. Calloused. Probably from swinging that bloody sword.

"I won’t bite," he said. "Not until you’re in my bed, anyway."

"Never happen." She put her hand into his. Magic slid into her fingers. He was letting her see his power. It shone within him, warm and white, like a distant star. The star dimmed and vanished, as if hidden by a cloak, and suddenly Rose found her fingers in the hand of a man, who was studying her with a knowing smirk. His skin was warm and rough, his grip firm, and her mind came right back to his "biting in bed" remark.

Rose jerked her hand out of his fingers. His point was clear: even she knew that to summon those beasts, he would’ve had to open himself to their greedy magic. It clung to her still, trying to worm its way inside. Anybody in prolonged contact with the beasts or their source would be permanently tainted. She had detected none of their miasma within the blueblood. He was clean.

The blueblood raised his hands, as if asking for her feedback.

"You’ve made your point," she admitted. "You didn’t bring them here. You’ve made much of your education, so I take it you know what they are. What are they, and what do they want?"

He looked lost in thought for a moment. "I have no idea," he said. "I’m calling them ‘hounds’ for now."

Great. Fantastic.

"I know they wanted to kill Jack," he said. "I don’t believe he was a particular target. They would’ve gone for anyone else in his place. Their magic is . . ."

"Clingy," she supplied.

The blueblood nodded. "It seeks to assimilate. It’s dangerous."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"That’s why I’ll stay with you tonight," he said.

Rose blinked. "What?"

"I didn’t come all this way to have my future bride consumed by some aberration. You’re ill equipped to deal with this threat. If your sensibilities won’t permit my presence in your house, then I’ll remain here." He pointed to the porch.

"No!"

"Yes." He turned his back to her, walked onto the porch, and sat on the steps.

"I want you to leave."

"I’m afraid it’s not possible. See, I promised your brothers that I’ll keep them safe tonight, and I won’t go back on my word. It’s your right not to invite me inside, but I would appreciate a blanket. That would be simple human charity."

Rose felt like stomping, except she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he irritated her. "This is unnecessary," she said. "We’re safe behind the wards."

"I’m not so sure."

"Look, I appreciate your intentions, but I want you to leave. Now."

He ignored her.

Rose glanced at the house and saw two little faces behind the window screens. Great. What to do now? Blueblood or no, he had saved Jack. He had sworn not to harm them, and flashing a man who was doing nothing to attack her went against her every instinct.

He couldn’t really be trying to protect them. That would be . . . noble. She almost guffawed at the pun.

Fatigue mugged her like a wet blanket thrown over her head. It had been a terrible day, and she had no energy to argue.

"Fine. You’re welcome to the porch."

Rose went inside, pulling the door shut with a thud. The boys stared at her. "If he tries to come inside, shoot him," she said and headed for the shower.

SOMETIMES simple pleasures are best, and nothing compared with a shower after work. Having spent the entire day squirting cleaners and scrubbing office counters and walls, Rose now thoroughly scrubbed herself with Irish Spring and a fake sea sponge. It took her ten minutes to drown the day in shampoo and soap, and when she emerged, put on clean clothes, and brushed her wet hair, she felt almost human.

While she was in the shower, her fury at the blueblood’s intrusion slowly melted into uncomfortable unease. The blueblood had saved Jack. He’d stayed with them because they were scared and even made them food, and then she’d treated him like dirt. She felt bad about it. This is stupid, Rose told herself. He was here to force her into marriage. All of this could be an act. She owed him no sympathy.