Evershaw didn’t know what he expected, but he was entirely distracted by the smooth creamy skin of her thighs and the mysteries that waited between them when Deirdre lifted her hands, grinning in anticipation, and a bright bolt of lightning shot out of her. And then the air itself shook and she tumbled to the floor.

He waited for something else to happen to him, but when nothing did, he went to his knees to check on her. He brushed the tangled hair off her face, not sure whether to laugh at her or call for the medic, and felt his throat constrict as her bright green eyes found his.

The cat stalked to the edge of the mattress and gazed down at them, observing the goings-on, and Evershaw growled just a touch to warn the beast away. He didn’t feel like dealing with the pushy little beast.

Then Deirdre made a huffy little sound that could have been the harbinger of a hell of a crying jag, and Evershaw braced himself to clean up a puddle of tears. Instead when he gazed down at her, she’d pursed her lips and fought to keep from laughing out loud. His eyebrows rose as he studied her, brushing her hair back once more. He wanted to keep touching her, to carry her back to that chair so they could sit together. “Is that what you intended to happen?”

Her eyes narrowed but her voice went high and giggly when she tried to answer. “Yes, actually.”

“Then well done,” he said. He smiled too, feeling ridiculous kneeling there on the floor, but he wouldn’t have moved except to defend her from something coming through the door. And he couldn’t stop touching her, brushing his thumb along her cheek and the wrinkles from her pillow.

Deirdre sighed and held her head. “So the geas is still in place.”

“You think?” He chuckled and ran the back of his knuckles across her cheek, mesmerized by the length of her eyelashes and the soft pink of her lips and the curve of her ear. “What tipped you off?”

“Look, buddy,” she said, still laughing, and sat up.

He didn’t get out of the way and instead found her nose just an inch from his, and he couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and kissed her, one hand sliding into her hair to cradle her head. Deirdre made a surprised noise and kind of tensed, and Evershaw waited for her to pull away completely and maybe slap him—since she couldn’t use magic against him, apparently.

But then she softened and closed her eyes and kissed him back. Evershaw swallowed a groan as she turned hesitant, a little uncertain. He didn’t mind taking the lead, and teased her tongue with his before deepening the kiss still more. Her arms linked around his neck and he started to lean forward, to press her back against the floor so he could feel her all soft and sweet beneath him.

A hiss was the only warning before four sparks of agony ignited in his shoulder as a fucking sandbag landed on him. Evershaw jerked away and twisted, trying to get rid of whatever it was that attacked him, and growled as the hissing and spitting and a lashing tail revealed that the fucking cat wanted to protect his mama.

He couldn’t blame the thing, but that didn’t mean Evershaw wanted to be a fucking scratching post.

“Cricket!” Deirdre clapped her hands over her mouth as she stared at where her attack cat tried to claw him to pieces.

Evershaw finally managed to reach over his shoulder and grab the beast by the scruff, dragging him off his back to drop on the floor, and growled as the damn thing hissed and arched its back in warning as it almost levitated across the carpet to hop into the witch’s lap. He scowled. “A beast that large should live outside.”

“He’s my little baby,” Deirdre said, gathering the cat up to her chest and burying her face against the fur.

For a split second, Evershaw thought she meant to protect the cat from his irritation, but when another squeak escaped from the witch, he suspected something else was afoot. His eyes narrowed, and when Deirdre peeked at him over the cat’s poofy tail, his suspicions were confirmed—Deirdre laughed. She shook with it, gales of it, until the cat untangled himself and stormed off with a disgruntled mrow.

So he took the opportunity afforded to him and tickled her. He had an almost out-of-body experience of shaking his head at himself, since he’d never tickled anyone in his entire life, but he couldn’t resist. That laugh, the way she curled in on herself, the soft shine of her hair as it covered her face to hide her from him... Evershaw slid his hands against her side and Deirdre squeaked, trying to fend him off, though she kept laughing and got all breathless and huffy as she tried to brace her foot against him and push him away.

He started to chuckle a little too, and leaned in. He finally got the chance to touch her, to feel her skin. He didn’t mind at all as the T-shirt she wore rucked up in her squirming and revealed the curve of her hip and the kissable softness of her stomach and waist and... He tried not to groan as the witch flopped on her back and gasped for breath, trying to drag the T-shirt down to cover herself, and practically panted as his hands stilled. “Oh my God. Stop. I can’t breathe. I’m gonna pee on your carpet, wolf.”

Evershaw wouldn’t have minded. He’d buy her new carpet or get hardwood floors or maybe ceramic tile. Easier to clean. He dragged his fingers down her side, across her ribs, and was rewarded with a full-body twitch. He couldn’t help but imagine all the fun they could have figuring out where else she might be ticklish, or what else made her move like that. He could just imagine the insides of her thighs, the underside of her breasts, the side of her neck... His wolf side got all riled up as his imagination ran wild, and he found himself gazing down at her, completely wordless.

Deirdre finally managed to wiggle around enough to get the T-shirt past her panties, and though her face was still red, she managed to give him a narrow-eyed look that was somewhat close to threatening—if he hadn’t just tickled her until she was helpless and almost peed her pants. “You best be careful, wolf. I have a long memory.”

“So do I,” he said. His head dipped so he could press a kiss against her side, just below the line of her ribs, and kept his voice a low murmur, wanting to tease her more into rolling right into bed with him. “When I touch you here, you start giggling.”

He moved so he could kiss just below her breast as all of her stilled. “And right here is where you jump and start to squirm.”

The witch’s hand rose, hesitant and careful, and he held his breath as he watched her eyes. But instead of pushing him away, her fingers threaded into his hair and her nails ran against his scalp until he wanted to stretch and rub against her. So he kept going, dragging his teeth down her midsection to the welcoming give of her lower stomach, and listened for the hitch in her breathing. “This is my favorite part so far, since it makes you go all breathless. And hungry.”

Both her hands slid into his hair and she seemed to have stopped breathing. Evershaw’s palm chafed the inside of her knee, wondering if he dared explore a little further. He didn’t think she was ready to just roll into bed with him; her initial reaction to his kiss was a pretty damn clear signal she hadn’t expected any of it. He could be a patient hunter. She needed to be ready, and he didn’t want to lose his chance to enjoy all of her.

Despite the bastard side of his personality that told him not to lose the opportunity to fuck her right there and be done with it, he knew she deserved more. She meant more. She wasn’t one of the women he’d picked up at bars or at coffee shops or wherever it was he found women. Deirdre felt real, more real than anyone else he’d ever met.

And that scared the shit out of him.

Before he could decide what to do, his hand resting just north of her knee on the deliciously smooth skin of her inner thigh and her green eyes smoky and half-closed as she watched him, someone said, “Evershaw, we were supposed to meet with Smith thirty minutes ago. Have you—”

And the door swung in and suddenly Todd stood there, staring down at them, and Deirdre squeaked and snapped her legs together on his hand and dragged her shirt down and Evershaw had never been so close to outright murder in his life.

He half-turned but didn’t take his hands off Deirdre as he spoke to his cousin. “Get. Out.”

Todd disappeared without a word and closed the door behind him as he went. But the spell was broken and Deirdre scrambled up, her face red, and she didn’t meet his eyes as she fumbled at the sheets to cover her from the ribs down.

Evershaw stepped closer, wanting to reassure her, and she flinched. He stopped dead. He didn’t deserve that. Well, maybe he did. He couldn’t remember if he’d manhandled her before he finally figured out how fucking perfect she was. He kept his voice calm and tried not to communicate that the rejection made him want to bristle and still show her he wasn’t that kind of guy. “I have some business to look after this morning. Mercy will be in with clean clothes, but we packed a bag for you and left it in the closet. She’ll bring food, too.”

Deirdre cleared her throat and nodded, still not quite looking at him. “Right. Thank you.”

The cat hissed from where it crouched on a pillow, and Evershaw glared at it. Ornery beast. “I’ll call Smith about the gee-whatsit. Just—rest today, take it easy.”

“Yeah.” Her voice, soft and shy, made his guts contract and his chest tighten.

He wanted to fold her up in his arms and shelter her from everything in the world that might frighten her or hurt her or even just displease her. But she wasn’t ready for that. He could see it in every line of her body and the way she held the sheets around her like some kind of armor. She’d been fighting for so long maybe she couldn’t see how to lean on someone else. He gritted his teeth and stepped back, knowing he couldn’t push her further. “Feel free to go where you like in this part of the building. No one else is allowed up here, so you won’t be bothered.”

She nodded and he retreated, tense from head to toe, and turned his attention to finding Todd and beating the shit out of him for not knocking.