Flesh and Blood

‘You sure are.’ He scooped her up and squeezed her tight, thrilled there was a tangible body to hold on to, a warm neck to bury his face against. He inhaled until his head swam in the perfume of her. ‘I’m never letting you go again, I swear.’

She wrapped her legs around his waist, then pulled away enough to get face-to-face with him. ‘Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.’ She kissed him, hungry and crazy and careless. Then she stopped as suddenly as she’d begun. ‘You know what?’

‘Hmm?’ He planted a few kisses on the curve of her neck, his mind already lost in the scent and taste of her.

She twisted, looking over her shoulder. ‘If that smoke can fix me, I mean really fix me, like detach-me-from-Mal fixed, maybe you should go through it, too.’

He paused. Her logic wasn’t half bad, but the fact that Aliza may have counted on him trying to remove his curse with the smoke was a very real possibility. Would the old witch have anticipated him going through the smoke, too? Could she have planned for it? ‘I don’t know, baby. What if something goes wrong?’

She ran her nails over his shaved head in long, lazy scratches. ‘It could be your chance, but if you don’t feel right about doing it … ’

He stared into the smoke. The fire was almost out. Courage, he told himself. This could be his one shot to be whole again.

Fi traced the line of his ear. ‘If you don’t want to, then don’t. Doesn’t change the way I feel about you.’

‘No, you’re right. What do I have to lose?’ He put her down. ‘I’m going to do it.’

She squeezed his hand. ‘Go ahead, kitty cat. I’ve always wanted to snuggle with a big ole leopard.’

He kissed her once for luck and stepped into the smoke. It curled over his body like a cool mist, as soft as she’d said. Peace filled him and he understood why she’d stayed in it so long. Reluctantly, he walked on through.

‘Well,’ she asked. ‘How do you feel?’

He turned and shrugged. ‘Good, I guess.’ But he’d felt good as soon as Fi had gone solid and he’d known Aliza had done what she’d promised.

‘Go ahead,’ Fi urged. ‘Change.’

New nerves tripped along his back. He nodded and stepped away from her to get some space. Just in case things went … wrong. He winked at her. ‘Here goes.’ And gave himself over to his true form.

The shift came easy and smooth in a way it hadn’t for years. Almost too easy. Suspicions crept over him, but he shook them off. This was a good thing. No point spoiling it by giving in to crazy guesses that Aliza had somehow tricked him.

Not with the way Fi was looking at him. Her eyes lit up and her grin took over her face. She let out a tiny squeal and clapped her hands.

At the noise, Doc blinked. Instead of being level with her calves, his sightline was at her ribs. He took a step toward her. The paw stretched out in front of him was the size of a bread plate. He flexed his toes. Claws like talons dug into the floor. Mother Bast, his curse was gone.

Fi retreated a step. ‘I didn’t know you were going to be so … big.’

The joy at being himself again welled out of him in a loud, guttural yowl.

The look in her eyes changed to something a little less happy. She flickered back to her ghost form.

He shook his head, trying to tell her not to be afraid.

She swallowed. ‘You wouldn’t hurt me, would you?’

Not in a million years. He just had to let her know that no matter what form he was in, he was all about protecting her. Always. He’d nearly gotten killed trying to rescue her from the hell she’d been stuck in, hadn’t he? But that was behind them now. He laughed, which came out like a sneeze, flopped onto the dirty floor, and rolled over, showing her his belly and looking at her upside down.

That got him a laugh. ‘Silly boy.’ She took a baby step forward. ‘I’m going to touch you, okay?’

He kneaded a paw in the air. Her fingers brushed the tip of one ear. He held very still. Her hand traveled to the top of his head, caressing the width of his skull. ‘Wow, you’re so soft.’

Human, ghost, whatever she was, he adored this female.

She kneeled beside him and buried her face in his neck. ‘I love you, Maddoc.’

I love you, too, Fiona. He started to purr.

Chapter Thirty-seven

‘What the hell?’ Creek rushed forward to stop Chrysabelle, but Mal blocked his way.

He leaned in toward Creek. ‘She said not to touch her.’

Creek’s whole body thrummed with the urge to stop her. ‘She’s doing this for you. Anything happens to her’ – he stabbed his finger into Mal’s chest – ‘anything, and I blame you.’

‘Nothing’s going to happen to her. I won’t let it.’ Mal stalked away.

In an almost trancelike state, Chrysabelle seemed not to notice them. With her index finger over the open end of the pipette, she slid it out of her chest and inhaled. Blood bloomed from the wound, but the stain spread no more than a few inches.

She started chanting again, so softly it was hard to hear. Maybe that was on purpose, to keep them from understanding the words she was using. From what Creek could make out, it sounded like the Aramaic the KM recited in their rituals. Using the pipette like a fountain pen and her blood for ink, she drew a perfect circle on the floor in front of her. At the top of the circle, she drew the phoebus, the sun symbol that was every comarré’s first signum.