The Witch With No Name (The Hollows #13)(55)
Author: Kim Harrison

His expression was wild. He met my eyes, and something plinked through me. He loves me, I thought, knowing he’d do anything if it would keep me safe, even if that meant letting me do something stupid like try to save my church.

A head poked up behind the smoldering couch, visible past the broken wall. There was a sudden flurry of motion, and five bodies dove out of the open back door. The one remaining slowly stood. Smirking, he dropped something heavy. I watched it fall as if in slow motion.

Trent grabbed me, spinning me down and around. Bis’s wings flapped madly as we hunched into a ball.

The last vampire launched himself at the door, fleeing.

I gasped, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Now, Bis!” Trent shouted, and the world exploded.

The roar of fire washed over us, eating away at the bubble Trent had thrown up.

And then it was gone, the pulse of heat vanishing into the hum of the lines and then evolving into the shush of water on a beach. Bis had jumped us, and I had no idea where we were.

My heart thudded as we slowly stood from our crouch. It was dark, hours before dawn. My feet sank into cool sand. We were on the West Coast? Behind us was the great blackness of the Pacific, before us the extravagant lines of a modern two-story home, wall-to-wall windows facing the beach. The wind lifted through my hair and pulled the heat from the bomb away.

My church, I thought, forcing the lump down. Everyone I loved was safe.

“Ah, where are we, Bis?” Trent said, and I let go of his hand.

Bis shifted his claws, and I winced, not wanting him to know he’d broken skin. “Uh, I hope you don’t mind,” the clever kid said, his wings arching up behind my head in his version of a shrug. “I had to pick somewhere the sun hadn’t come up yet.”

“It’s not Lee’s,” Trent said, and a knot of worry eased as I heard a piano playing the same phrase over and over until something sounded right.

“Alice, what do you think about this?” a familiar voice called out, faint over the surf as the phrase was hammered out again, and I smiled.

“It’s my mom’s,” I said, starting forward, eager and trying not to cry. Bis had taken me home. He’d taken me to my mom.

Chapter 12

I woke for the second time in the same day with a smile on my face. Eyes closed, I stretched a foot down to find Trent’s, feeling his arm over me tighten as I nudged him awake. My mom was cool. The thought of offering us two rooms hadn’t even occurred to her as she fussed and burbled over getting us settled, finding us toothbrushes and me a nightgown. The shower had been heaven, and the cool sheets better than death, as Ivy would have said.

My eyes opened. A deliciously masculine arm was resting on me. Beyond the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows, the sun was nearing noon by the slivers of light leaking in past the half-open blinds. Trent, too, was just waking up, having spent some of his morning talking to Takata before slipping in behind me for a couple of hours. Our usual sleep schedules weren’t compatible at all, but that didn’t seem to matter when you were fighting time-zone shifts and an all-nighter.

All I cared about was that I woke up with Trent beside me for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, and it felt . . . right.

Warm and content, I rolled to face him. The silk of my mom’s nightgown was a soft hush, and when Trent pulled me close, I snuggled in, wishing I had more mornings like this.

“Hi,” I said softly, and his eyes opened. They were brilliant green from behind his tousled hair, clear and rested even if his stubble was thick. It made me feel good to see him that close. His thumb traced tingles down my bare arm, and I tilted my head, finding the soft skin under his throat with my lips and giving a gentle pull.

Suddenly he was a lot more awake. The bed shifted as he found my mouth with his, the kiss lighting through me with a shocking pulse. His hand pressed my shoulder, and my fist tightened at the back of his neck. I was suddenly a lot more awake, too.

“Donald?” echoed in the hallway. “Do we have any more strawberries? They’ve got to come out of there eventually. It’s after noon!”

Breathless, I pulled back. Our lips parted with a sharp smack, and I realized his leg had slipped between mine, almost pinning me—not that I minded. His smile was content as we listened to Takata’s rumbling voice answer my mom, and I snuggled into him. I didn’t particularly want to get up, but even as my mom might have bunked us together, she also wouldn’t have any hesitation about knocking on our door.

My pulse slowed. I listened to Trent’s heartbeat, breathing him in and reluctant to move. I liked waking up like this, but was it realistic to even hope it could last? As in a permanent situation? I knew better than to look for a happily ever after. My track record spoke for itself.

“Still can’t see it?” Trent said.

My lips quirked. “How do you do that?” I asked softly, and his hand traced tingles on my shoulder as he slipped the thin strap down.

“It’s inevitable,” he said, as sensation raced from his touch. “We do well together. For example, what do you want to do today?”

My schedule was already full of handling the unknown, but I sat up, willing to play the game. “Oh, I don’t know,” I said, knowing Trent would be recognized anywhere the moment he set foot in public. “Have strawberries for breakfast, lay out on the beach, maybe do some bikini shopping. A little light dinner on a boat. Go to bed before the sun comes up. Wake around noon and do it again.”

Propped up on an elbow, he smiled and tucked my snarled hair behind an ear. His stubble caught the light, and I wanted to feel its roughness. “See what I mean?” he said, the sheet slipping to show a new and very nice angle of him. “That’s exactly what I want to do.”

Smirking, I scooted down and tucked myself next to him. My real list was a lot different: check the news to see if our fake death gamble worked, make a soul bottle for Ivy, dodge uncomfortable questions from my mom.

Suddenly I realized Trent’s hand was moving, ever moving, against me, running behind my ear with a comfortable security, as if he’d been doing it for years. “There’s absolutely nothing I can do,” he said around a sigh, gazing past me to the private beach. “And a hundred things I should.”

He was worried about his girls, but I couldn’t resist letting my fingers drift downward over his chest. His body tensed, and I smiled. “We should play dead more often. This is the nicest morning I’ve had in a long time.”