So the feeling that she had failed him somehow, that she’d misunderstood something, made her skin colder than it had been before. She ran her palms up his chest, leaned forward and rested her head on it, listening to the steady beat of his heart with her eyes closed; after a moment his hand came to rest on her hair, warm and reassuring.

“You should get some sleep,” he said. “If I know Tera—and I do—she’ll be banging on the door at some ungodly hour, wanting you to go out and play tennis and have a makeover or something.”

“As if I’d let her talk me into that.”

“And thank God. The last thing I want is for you to wander around looking like a Tera clone. I happen to think you’re quite lovely the way you are, despite your crankiness and violent streak.” He shifted position so she could stretch out more easily beside him and she did so, relieved. Whatever had changed in the air changed back; everything was normal again.

“Am I?”

“Cranky and violent? Yes. I hardly think that comes as a surprise.”

She smiled. “No. I mean the other thing.”

“Ah. Fishing for compliments is never an attractive behavior in a lady, you know.”

“Humor me. It’s been a rough night.”

He was silent for a moment, absentmindedly stroking her thigh. Or perhaps not so absentmindedly, after all; his fingers kept inching higher and higher, urging the silky fabric out of the way.

“It has been rather rough.” His other hand found her chin, lifted it to look in her eyes. “I think I know a way to salvage it, though.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like humoring me, I have to say.”

“Oh, I think you’ll be very pleased when I’m done. In fact, I believe I can guarantee it.” His hand moved with more deliberation, eliciting a sharp little gasp from her. “See?”

She managed to nod.

“And to answer your question, sheshissma . . .” His voice was none too steady itself; she’d managed to find a use for her own hands. “I think you know very well what you do to me, and how very much I hope you’ll keep doing it.”

“Show me,” she said.

And he did.

Chapter 13

The knock on the door did indeed come bright and early; the clock by the bed informed Megan that it was quarter past eight. On a workday she would have already been up and moving, but then on a workday she wouldn’t have been awake until almost three the night before.

Either way. All she wanted to do was go back to sleep, and despite her fondness for Tera and her utter gratitude that Tera had come, she wasn’t in the mood.

Along with the sunlight slicing a path through her brain came the unwelcome memories of the night before. Yes, there were one or two very welcome memories in there as well, but for the most part . . . ugh.

Chief of all of them was the conversation she’d had with Greyson. She wanted to believe his sudden interest in getting her to do the ritual was related solely to her safety, but convincing herself of that was more difficult than she’d expected it to be in the hard sharp morning. Having the subject brought up twice in one night seemed a little much for coincidence.

It didn’t matter. She grabbed her robe off the chair and slipped it on, while the pounding continued. Tera could sit and order some room service or something while she took a shower; judging from the closed door and the sound of water running, Greyson was already in there.

Of course, he could have simply leaped in when the knocking started in order to avoid Tera.

She tied the robe’s belt around her waist and turned the knob. “Hi, Ter—Nick!”

Before she could even finish saying his name his arms were around her, squeezing her almost as tight as she squeezed him. Nick Xao-teng was one of Greyson’s oldest friends and probably his closest, and had become one of hers as well. But Nick didn’t have anything to do with the Meegras; he was, he’d once told her, “an independent contractor.”

She hadn’t asked him what exactly that meant.

“What are you doing here? I mean, I’m glad to see you, I just—”

He kissed her soundly on the cheek, gave her one last squeeze, and dipped into a flourished bow. “At your service, hon. Grey called me last night.”

Right. “You’re here to guard me.”

Nick’s eyebrow rose. He hadn’t changed since she’d seen him last, two months before, but he never did. Descended from a Chinese half-succubus mother and a part-psyche-demon father of whom he never spoke, Nick was devastatingly handsome, with an aura of raw sexual energy that he used to full advantage.

Except around her. At least not after their first meeting, when she’d gotten a taste of what it felt like to be seduced by an incubus. He hadn’t realized she was with Greyson, and Greyson had arrived before she’d been able to do much more than lose a little breath—along with dignity—but still. She didn’t think she’d ever forget that feeling, or how angry she’d been.

She was glad she’d forgiven him, though.

“I am indeed here to guard you,” he said. “Although ‘escort’ is really more the way Greyson put it. He said he has some meetings and stuff and asked if I would mind making sure you’re never alone.” He set down his suitcase and closed the door behind him. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

“I should hope not.” Greyson emerged from the bedroom, with his hair damp and his shirt untucked. “Not after what a last-minute ticket from Miami to here cost me.”

“Like you can’t afford it,” Nick replied. “Have you traded in the Jag for a solid-gold Rolls yet?”

“You could have one yourself, you know, if you’d—”

“Don’t even start.”

Megan smiled as the men embraced. That was an old discussion, one they seemed to engage in out of habit. Greyson wanted Nick to move from Miami and work with him, to do Carter’s job; Nick resisted. If she’d heard them talk about it once, she’d heard it a hundred times.

She slipped away while they conversed and hurried through a shower. Seeing Nick was a pleasure. Imagining the two of them sitting alone with Tera wasn’t, and she had no doubt Tera would be there any minute.

Sure enough, the witch’s voice floated through the closed bedroom door when she emerged fifteen minutes later. Megan tossed on a plain dark dress—if they were heading over to see Reverend Walther later, which they were, she wanted to look as unobtrusive as possible—and opened the door.

Tera was sitting in the dark leather armchair, a tray over her lap loaded down with food. She barely looked up from her plate when Megan entered. “Hey. Any new information?”

“I was kind of hoping you might have had some ideas.”

Tera shook her head, making nodding wait-a-minute motions while she forced down an enormous bite of muffin. Witches never turned down free food. Or really anything free. Finally she swallowed. “I did a quick check through the Vergadering mainframe last night, but I couldn’t find anything about you, or this hotel, or any indication that someone on one of the watch lists is in town.”

Megan raised her eyebrows and settled on the couch next to Greyson, who rested his hand on her thigh. “Watch list?”

“Yeah, you know. Known assassins, criminals for hire . . . There are a few mercenary witches out there, and we keep tabs on them as best we can.”

“As opposed to simply arresting them,” Greyson said.

“We don’t know exactly where they are,” Tera said, through another chunk of muffin. “We would if we did. We just get rumors about them being in specific cities, specific places. We do what we can.”

“Funny. You always manage to know the exact location of any one of us who got a parking ticket at any given time.”

Tera made a sour face. Megan squeezed Greyson’s thigh hard and cut in before either of them could make it worse. “Thanks for checking, Tera. Is there any chance you just don’t know whoever-it-was is in town?”