She hung on to him until the spinning stopped, then she fell back to earth, his large body coming down on hers. He didn’t crush her, he only covered her with his warm length, shielding her against the night. Graham stroked Misty’s hair, lips touching her face, the line of her hair, her lips. Incredible gentleness from this rough-edged man.
For a long time they lay together, stretched out on the ground, absorbing the warmth of the darkness. Graham said nothing, only nuzzled her cheek and lightly kissed her. He’d given Misty all the pleasure, demanding nothing in return.
As moonlight brushed his skin as he kissed her, an idea that had been tapping before Graham had driven her thoughts away started knocking for attention again. Misty looked into Graham’s face.
“The spell cured me,” she said. “I’m not thirsty anymore. But it didn’t work on you, did it?”
Graham regarded her another moment, his gray eyes steady. “No,” he said, voice quiet. “It didn’t.”
CHAPTER TEN
No, Graham wasn’t cured. And that was going to be a problem.
He staved off the thought by brushing his lips against Misty’s, but for the first time in his life, he faced the question—What do I do?
Graham always knew what to do. If he didn’t, he made something up. Yelling at one of his Shifters or knocking them across the room usually helped. But this time, brute force and bullying wasn’t going to work.
Thirst pounded through him. Kissing Misty calmed it, but as soon as he released her, his mouth grew parched again. He needed to drink.
Graham also knew, though he wasn’t sure how he knew, that his gunshot wound was only temporarily healed. Fae magic had closed it up, but Graham would bet that, if the Fae chose, he could rip it open again. Shifter metabolism being what it was, Graham would still heal from the shot eventually, but he’d have to go through the agony of its infliction all over again. And maybe the Fae would keep reopening the wound, just to punish Graham.
Misty, though, was free. Somehow the stupid little spell with the roses and tequila had burned the Fae water out of her. Possibly the tequila alone had done it; humans were weak when it came to alcohol. Maybe that was the same reason it hadn’t worked on him—Shifters had a high tolerance even for the strongest liquor.
“Graham?” Misty touched his face.
He loved this—Misty in his arms, a moment of peace.
Graham had left his mark on her. The dark love bites on her neck and br**sts stood out in the moonlight. His mark, his brand.
He closed his fingers around her wrist and held on. “You can’t tell anyone it didn’t work. Swear to me.”
Misty blinked in concern. “Why not?”
Graham didn’t answer for a moment. He kissed her again, savoring her taste. He thought about moving his fingers back between her legs, where it was hot, sweet, slick. He could bring her to climax one more time, forget about spells and Fae. Only Misty was important.
“Graham?” Misty’s voice was soft, but insistent. “We’ll need help to figure this out.”
“No,” Graham said, his voice harsh, though he softened his hold on her wrist. “If my Shifters think I’m Fae-touched, they’ll fall apart, and take me with them.” They needed him, and that wasn’t just arrogance. Most of Graham’s Shifters hadn’t adjusted to living in the city yet, with Shifters they didn’t know. Most hadn’t adjusted to living in a Shiftertown, period, even after twenty years. They’d have all gone feral, or died, or curled into little balls of whimpering fur if Graham hadn’t done some of the shit he’d done. “If they know I’m under a Fae’s power, they could turn on me, take me out—kill me—and maybe Dougal too. I know that’s not allowed, but my Shifters are pretty wild and don’t care. So, they can’t know. No one can.”
Misty gave him the startled look she always got whenever he told her how violent Shifters were. Why did humans think Shifters had been tamed? Making them wear the shock Collars was like putting a tiny bandage on a gaping wound.
“There must be someone you can talk to,” Misty said. She caressed his face, as though she found something she liked in the scarred, harsh mess of it. “Reid, maybe?”
“I said, I need to think about it.” Graham gentled his impatient answer by kissing the inside of her wrist. “This is the kind of problem a Shifter takes to his leader. Except I am the leader.”
“Eric, then,” Misty said. Sweet lady; she was so naive. “He’s your partner.”
Graham snorted a laugh. “Right. Don’t think so.” Eric had wanted Graham under his thumb since Graham’s Shifters had been forced to move into Eric’s Shiftertown.
Misty didn’t look convinced. Graham kissed her again, letting the kiss turn lingering. He loved that the terrible thirst slaked a bit when his mouth was on hers.
He wanted to stay kissing her forever, the fragrance of the flowers she loved wrapping around them. Misty’s scent was even better than the flowers’, her soft body under his worth every second of his agony.
Graham had to fix this, and fast. And then figure out what the hell to do about his growing mating frenzy for Misty. He’d not be able to stave it off for long, and if the frenzy consumed him, it would be as dangerous to her as any Fae spell.
• • •
Graham stayed the night at Misty’s, which entailed more pizza. The cubs ate most of it.
Reid departed before the pizza arrived, borrowing the book from Misty, intrigued by it, he said. Graham knew Reid’s real reason to leave was his ache to get back home to the bear Shifter, Peigi. It had been more than a year since Peigi had been rescued from an insane, feral Shifter in Mexico who’d kept her and other women in a basement, more than six months since Reid had moved in with her. And still she and Reid weren’t officially a couple, for some reason.
Graham stayed with Misty not only to protect her but also because it was clear Xavier wasn’t about to leave. Xav might claim he was just doing his job, and had three other DX Security men stationed outside the house, but Xav was inside, with Misty.
In spite of her apparent recovery, Misty was still reluctant to go to bed, afraid to dream, but Graham eventually talked her into it. Misty needed her rest—she’d had a hell of a time. The cubs, as wolves, dashed into her room ahead of her, leapt up on her bed, and curled up on the foot of it. Misty let them, kissed Graham good night, and shut the door on him.
Good thing. If Graham went in there, he’d want to hole up with her and never come out. And then everything in the outside world would go to hell.