CHAPTER TEN

Tamatsu snuck away from the Airstream that evening, leaving Noelle asleep on the step.

He couldn’t sit idly by and wait. He teleported to Ohio—ground zero of the convention of weather gods—and waited in the lobby of Dayton’s Blue Sky Inn until the downpour goddess Coatrisquie stepped out of the fitness room.

Spotting him, she rolled her eyes and walked over wiping sweat from her brow. “Damn. You’ve been hitting us all, huh?”

He couldn’t deny that.

“So, you’ve come to talk me out of this challenge, I guess.”

He gave her a long blink.

“Right, right. You can’t talk. The guys said that. How is it that you can’t talk?”

He shoved his hands into his coat pockets hoped his stare was eloquent enough to deter her from the line of questioning.

“Look, you know how these things go,” she said with a shrug. “There’s no way of knowing how out of hand they’ll get. I can’t speak for the rest of them, but I can tell you that I’m going to do my demonstration out over the ocean. If a hurricane comes out of it, hopefully it’ll die before it reaches land.”

Hopefully.

She shrugged again and tossed her long black hair over her sun-burnished brown shoulder. “Best I can do. I try to mind my own business nowadays, but I can’t back down from a challenge like this. If I show weakness, I’m a dead goddess, you hear me? I just adopted a baby four months ago. I’d like to not die, okay?”

He nodded, pointed to his watch, and made an expanding gesture.

“More time?”

Again, he nodded.

She cringed.

“How much?”

He turned his hands over. He had no way of knowing when or if he’d get his voice back. He’d barely had time to think about next steps, being so focused on the looming challenge deadline. After all, that was what had lit the fire under his ass to regain his speaking ability in the first place.

“If it’s important, I can try to stall them a day. If you’re worried about the Mississippi, though, I can tell you know that Louisiana’s gonna get drenched around then. Not on the radar yet, but there’s going to be a storm moving north.”

He gave her a bow of thanks, and then stepped into a stairwell to discreetly teleport to Maria.

 He needed to be doing something other than staring apoplectically at his ex, and sifting through the possessions of the former Coyote alpha seemed a distracting enough chore.

For an hour he worked in silence, sorting and trashing piles of paper from the disgustingly cluttered living room. Tarik loomed nearby, shooting him the occasional incredulous stare.

“I can’t believe you left her out there,” he said after another hour had passed.

Tamatsu shrugged and lifted a cardboard box filled with various papers onto the kitchen table.

He’d left the trailer door unlocked. If she chose to spend the night out in the elements, that was on her. He’d had to go before he ended up doing something entirely too reckless, such as forgiving her or touching her. Anger was easier to negotiate, even when the creature he was angry with was so comely.

And deluded.

He’d been baffled by her statements—at her poor memory. His memory was a steel trap. He wouldn’t have forgotten that he’d had her permission to touch and be touched by others. She’d simply, apparently, changed the terms of the arrangement.

Scanning the pages in the box, he sorted them into two piles: recycling and possibility. Willa, who was probably still fishing out papers from under the bed, would need to leaf through the possibility pile and see if any of the information would be useful to her.

“Clarissa was getting on swimmingly with Jenny when I left.” Tarik tossed a full bag of garbage toward the open side door. Willa had hired a junk hauler, who was due to arrive within a few hours. “She may spend the night there. When I left, the women were telling Ariel and Marion stories of their days in the elf court. Clarissa’s first husband was quite the boor.”

Tamatsu nodded. Noelle had described Lorcan’s cruel antics many times. Never—in spite of the fantastical nature of her tales—had he thought she was hyperbolizing. He’d seen enough monsters to know anything was possible.

Tarik’s phone buzzed somewhere on his person. He set down he stack of newspapers he’d picked up and patted his numerous pockets until he located the small device. Grunting, he tapped the screen. “Lola.”

“A hysterical elf is pleading with me to recover her friend,” she said flatly through the speaker. “Apparently, Noelle has clients to attend to.”

Tarik raised his gaze to Tamatsu.

Tamatsu rolled his eyes.

“I doubt Tamatsu will have any objections to you assisting Miss Flint home.”

“But is that what he wants?”

Tamatsu drummed his fingers atop the table. He wanted his voice back and a Kobe beef cheeseburger, but he knew better than anyone that he couldn’t always have what he wanted.

“What would you have her do?” Tarik asked him.

Tamatsu set his index and middle fingers of one hand against the palm of the other and pantomimed walking.

After all, she’d walked across much of Europe and Asia. In comparison, fifty miles wasn’t shit.

“Perhaps I’ll teleport her home, and repair her fragmented memory in the process as a favor to you,” Tarik said.

Tamatsu scoffed, but of course, made no sound. He didn’t see what difference making her remember exactly what had transpired that day so long ago would make. The damage had already been done.

“I didn’t realize you were so apt to hold a grudge, my friend.”

Tamatsu slanted an eyebrow at Tarik. Tarik couldn’t really talk. Tarik was probably the least forgiving of their angelic trio, but people simply expected that of him. He never pretended to be anything but what he was.

Tamatsu tapped his throat.

“There are other ways of speaking, telepathy being one of them.”

Tamatsu shook his head hard.

Telepathy with Noelle was impossible without touch, and he couldn’t touch her without reigniting the sexual hunger he’d fought so hard to douse. With other angels, he technically could communicate that way, but he chose not to for the most part. The psychic energy he put off would make him more discoverable by entities eager to rip into angel flesh. Although no harassing entity had yet done him any real harm, the bastards were annoying. He hated having his time wasted.

“Forgiving would be healthy for you. Healing.”

Tamatsu smoothed a crumpled piece of paper against the table’s edge. The chore of sorting through the ex-Coyote alpha’s clutter was going to take far longer than either he or Tarik had anticipated. Angels were, in general, adept at finding lost items. Tamatsu was beginning to suspect that the information they were looking for didn’t exist in the house, though. They would likely have to resort to creative measures soon.

The paper Tamatsu held was an IOU, and the name on it was someone Tamatsu knew for certain was human. No help for the Coyotes there. He balled the paper back up and tossed the wad toward the recycling bin.

“You guys want to take a break to eat?” Willa stood in the hallway entrance with her hands on her hips and a collection of cobwebs clinging to her Maria Middle School polo shirt. “I missed my lunch period. Had a parent conference run over. I almost never get requests for conferences, but when I do, they’re from the parents who want me to do more.” She snorted. “I teach band to middle-schoolers, for Pete’s sake. A third of those kids will drop out of the program before high school. A seventh-grade clarinet player’s college prospects will not be hinged on whether or not they squeak while playing their solo in ‘A Whole New World.’”

Tamatsu was going to have to take her word for that. He’d had the misfortune of hearing the children perform, and didn’t think any of them were bound for stardom.

“I have no appetite, although I’m certain Tamatsu wouldn’t refuse a meal,” Tarik said.

Tamatsu picked up a stack of papers from inside the empty aquarium and nodded.

“The deli closes early today,” she said. “Let me run down there and slip an order under Gus’s nose. I’ve got a coupon.”

Tarik chuckled.

She poked him on the way past. “Don’t pick on me. The school system hands coupons out on staff development days. They’re supposed to make us forget the state hasn’t approved a budget increase in six years and that we can’t actually afford to live where we teach.”

“Where do you live?”

“In Maria Heights with the rest of the hooligans.” The screen door rattled shut behind her. “But don’t feel bad for us,” she called through it. “We get cable out there now.”

Tamatsu grinned and quickly shuffled the hoarded papers. Willa amused him to no end. Many near-immortals held jobs as a matter of necessity—the vast majority hadn’t amassed enough wealth to live off the interest dividends. Tito was a sheriff’s deputy. Some of Gulielmus’s sons worked in construction or did “freelance” hustles.

And … Noelle sold real estate.

Apparently, he’d never be able to compile a group of people in his mind without finding some way to slot his little wretch into it.

The screen door rattled again, but Tamatsu didn’t look up. The deli was three doors down. He suspected Willa had put the order in and returned.

“Oh. There you are.”

Not Willa.

He closed his eyes and pressed his teeth together hard.

Noelle’s footsteps barely made noise as she approached the dining room.

Bare feet still?

“Madam,” Tarik said in greeting.

“Hello.” Her voice seemed to be originating from the doorway between the living room and the tiny dining room, and he hoped she’d stay on that side. “Lola whisked me back to town.”

“To here specifically?”

“Mm-hmm. I need to leave in the morning. I’ve got some work to do in Vegas, but I’ll be back. That’s the only reason I had her bring me here—so I could tell you I was leaving.”

She obviously meant “you” as “Tamatsu,” but he didn’t look at her. In fact, he turned his back and pulled another empty garbage bag from the spool.

“What a mess,” she murmured. “Whose house is this? If one of yours, I suggest you hook up with the producers from one of those television shows about hoarding. They’ll help you fix your life.”

“The house belongs to the former Coyote alpha,” Tarik said with a chuckle, making Tamatsu shoot him a glare.

She was an enemy, and Tarik had made a noise he rarely ever made for anyone.

Tarik did not chuckle.

“We’re not entirely sure at this juncture if he’s actually dead or being detained somewhere,” he added, cutting Tamatsu a quelling look.

Changing sides, are you, friend?

“Actually dead?” she asked. “I’m missing some backstory, huh?”

“Isn’t there always when discussing creatures of supernatural proclivity?”

“Good point.”

“Either way, he needs to be replaced, and we’re assisting the pack’s patron, Willa, in finding candidates.”

“No one in the pack is alpha material?”

Tarik grunted. “No one stands out.”

“Messy.”

She was right about that, but she was brilliant. Of course she would have picked up the thread quickly. When Noelle was on, she always jumped to the right conclusion. Obviously, it was when she was disordered that she was a problem.

“Suffice it to say,” Tarik told her, “that in my opinion, the pack would probably be better off disbanding. The members should integrate into other Coyote groups instead of remaining here.”

“But that almost never happens. The last time I heard of anything remotely close was with some Bears up in Canada.”

“How long ago was that?” Tarik asked.

“Oh, come on. Don’t make me think in terms of years, or I’ll never give you a good answer. All I can tell you is that it was before World War I.”

“What were you doing in Canada?”

Tamatsu turned. He’d been wondering the same thing, so pretending that he didn’t care was pointless. He was a curious creature, and eventually, he’d get his answers. A bit of restrained energy upfront would save him hours of effort later.

Noelle smirked. She somehow managed to look deadly in spite of her small stature, and in spite of the comically disheveled state of her clothing. She was filthy. There were smudges on her cheeks. The silk of her top was ripped. With a tilt of his head, and he could see that the pantyhose she’d been wearing was gone. Perhaps her savage appeal had a bit to do with the way she gripped her bloodstained stilettos by the heels.

She’d always been quite the creature to behold, just in a different way now.

“I was tracking someone who’d taken something from me,” she said, “and I decided to stick around for a while.”

“What did they take?”

“My sword.”

In spite of himself, Tamatsu gave a nod of approval. He would have done the same.

The woman was fanatical about her blades, and that had been one of the reasons they’d bonded so quickly. She’d been in awe of his katana. The thing was made of metal not found on Earth and weighed nearly as much as she did, but that didn’t stop her from trying to pick it up. She’d had to try, and he’d never laughed so hard before that day. She was always making him laugh, and no one else had made him laugh that way since.

“At the time of the theft, I was renting a room in Brooklyn,” she said. “I went out to work one day, and that evening I got home and saw that someone had forced his way in and rooted through my things. Naturally, I looked through all the obvious places first for my jewelry and money. Of course, that was gone, but those things weren’t as important. The sword was.”

“I see you no longer carry it,” Tarik said with a laugh.

“Concealing a sword on my person used to be so much easier,” she said gloomily. “Beings like you two can put on a long coat and hide any number of weapons and no one will suspect you any more than they already do. People don’t respond with the same degree of trust to women who wear trench coats during warm-weather months. And besides.” She shrugged and, looking Tamatsu’s way, quirked her pink lips up at one corner. “Most of the time, the little bit of magic I have left is enough to deescalate any situation. Mmm?”

Her lips had done that the day he’d met her. She’d said to him in Gaelic, “Well, aren’t you a pretty one? Stand still long enough, and you’ll find yourself climbed.”

He hadn’t moved a muscle, and he certainly hadn’t told her no. She hadn’t climbed him, though. His belly had growled and she’d opened her satchel and handed him some sort of dried meat. “You’ll start an avalanche sounding like that,” she’d said. “Go on. Eat it.”

Having never encountered anyone quite like her, he hadn’t known what to say.

Eight hundred years later, he was still in want of a response as her smile flagged and her gaze dropped to her hands.

Look at me, woman.

“Where is the sword now?” Tarik asked her.

It was Tarik she looked at. She rubbed the heels of her hands against her eyes and let her breath out in a sputter. “In a safe deposit box in Vegas along with other irreplaceable artifacts from my time in the elf court. The banker looked at me like I was some kind of mobster when I walked in with my locked crates. Where do you keep all your things?”

“I still travel light. Everything I own is on my person.” Tarik extracted a toiletry bag from one deep pocket of his coat. “Unlike many of my kind, I don’t keep domiciles scattered about.”

His ‘kind’ meaning Tamatsu. He regularly taunted him for having numerous hidey-holes scattered throughout the globe. One wasn’t enough when he needed to be alone. At times, he had to keep moving. Places that were too familiar made him feel nostalgic. There was madness in nostalgia when the memories he had to keep revisiting were about someone he couldn’t be around.

“Hmm.” She rubbed at her eyes again and then the back of her neck, leaning her head to one side and then the other just like she used to. “That’s advanced-level nomad living. I prefer to have a place to roost.”

That was different. She’d been a wanderer before.

Or perhaps she just wandered.

He shouldn’t have been surprised that he didn’t know. She’d been right that talking hadn’t been their favorite way to learn about each other.

“I’ve got to have someplace to store my modern vices. Shoes.” Her smile was weak, but genuine. “Jenny’s are those funny little Precious Moments figurines. Goddess forbid she ever need to pull up stakes and move quickly. She’d be up all night delicately swaddling the damned things in newspaper.”

“How did Jenny come to be your ward, anyway?” Tarik asked.

“She’s not exactly my ward. That would imply that she’s younger than me, and she isn’t. At least, not substantially, and I think most of us who had my job in the court ended up with someone that they always looked after. Or someones. When Clarissa’s spell finished pervading the Otherworld, we had no choice but to integrate into human society. We scattered pretty thoroughly.” She leaned onto the table and shifted a few papers away from the edge. “Jenny stayed in Ireland for a long while and then moved down to London. I scooped her up after I got bored in Canada.”

“Why was integrating necessary?” Tarik asked.

“Clarissa didn’t see where she had a choice, although she held out on doing what needed to be done, hoping the situation would change.”

“What happened?”

“Back then, most elves with any significant amount of magic were almost certainly paired off in arranged marriages. Clarissa was no exception, and she really couldn’t hide what or who she was. Her parents were situated high in the court, and elf parents rarely try to conceal the extent of their children’s magic. Before she was ten, adults had already decided she’d be paired off with the future king.” She cocked her head. “Wait. Did you say Coyote earlier?”

Tamatsu expelled a silent laugh. He couldn’t help himself. The woman’s brain was a beautiful mess, and he’d never noticed the extent before. They’d rarely talked when they were dressed, and when they were undressed, they touched. She was soft and warm and lovely, and she’d been obsessed with him. People had marveled at him before, but no one had looked at him with such ownership. He’d always thought he couldn’t be owned.

“Yes, Coyotes,” Tarik said. “But continue your story.”

She shrugged and set her ruined shoes atop the table. “I was established in her entourage when I was around fifteen. I was still in training, really, but the early attachments were common back then. A queen needed to be able to trust her guards.”

“Indeed.”

“When the day came for her to marry, I was there, of course. I had that unsettled feeling in my gut that the match was wrong, wrong, wrong, but I certainly wasn’t unique in that. Others in Clarissa’s entourage felt the same way, but the match was already done, and what could we say, really? Obviously, we had a bias. She was our friend and we loved her. Naturally, we were going to be accused of wanting to keep her all to ourselves.”

“You stood quietly by during the joining.”

Tamatsu could see her nod in his periphery. “I sat outside her chambers for three days, almost non-stop, after she was given away. Lorcan came out after the second day. I couldn’t get in until late in the evening of the third.”

Tamatsu knew what she’d found when she did. He knew that moment had been the first time in Noelle’s life she’d ever been truly scared.

“She was in a trance,” Noelle said. “Trances aren’t so unusual for elves, though. Sometimes, they’re unavoidable when we have to process a large amount of powerful magic in a short period of time, but I didn’t know that then.”

“Whose magic was impacting her?” Tarik asked.

“Lorcan’s. To this day, I’m not certain if the two of them actually had a discussion about what he’d planned to use her for. He wasn’t the kind of man who’d ask for things. He’d just take.”

“What had been his plan?”

“As I told you, Clarissa is a very proficient psychic. I suppose even now if she were to try, she could hear the thoughts of any mind she happened to be near. Back before she gave our magic away, she didn’t need to use as much effort. And the king, by virtue of being her spouse, wanted to use her ability for his own gains.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning he wanted to use her to get to his enemies. He wanted to know their thoughts, their plans, so he could take what they had.”

“Clarissa doesn’t strike me as the sort who’d be so mercenary.”

“She’s not. We never had to have a discussion about what could happen, her and I, but I think the outcomes were pretty obvious. He may not have cared so much about tipping the kingdom into one war after another, but she did. She cared about the people who had to work for them and the people who relied on the king’s decision-making for their continued prosperity.”

Tamatsu cut her a look out of the corners of his eyes. She was worrying at her lower lip and staring at something on the table in front of her. There was a villain in every story, and hers was no exception. What came next in the story was probably still as hard for her to tell as when she’d relayed the tale to him centuries earlier.

“For two nights, he tried to bend her to his will. Perhaps he thought he’d succeeded. I can only speculate, but I don’t believe he would have left her chambers at that juncture if he’d thought he’d failed. I think at first, she pushed back as hard as she could and stated all her objections. He didn’t want to hear them. He took what he wanted. I believe that after a time, that become wearying for her, and she wanted him to go away. She changed tactics. She made him think he’d won by getting into his head and making him forget the truth. Every time they were intimate, she had to do the same thing.” Noelle scoffed. “I hate telling this story. I feel like it’s not mine to tell, but I think the context is important.”

“She failed, then? And that is why you’re in this world now?”

Noelle held up an index finger and slowly shook her head. “One week. That was all it took to undo all the work she’d done for years. Lorcan had gone off on some mission and she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—go along, and when he was gone, he realized she’d been gaming him. I was there that day. The fact he was such a poor sword handler is the reason Clarissa isn’t terribly maimed to this day. I think he’d meant to kill her, but he didn’t understand how well-trained her guards were. Her parents may have been fools for grooming her to be queen, but they weren’t so stupid that they wouldn’t have picked the best to protect her. He couldn’t make her do his bidding, so he hired someone else to do something worse. He gave her an ultimatum. You do this, or I’ll do worse. He gave her a fortnight, and she made a choice no one would have ever predicted. She decided that if he were going to destroy the realm with war, then she’d rather have the people abandon their homes. For us to integrate here—for us to look the way humans do—we had to give up most of our magic. We needed to agree … or at least, most of us. There were a few who didn’t.”

She looked down at her hands. Small, but so capable. Easy to underestimate.

Tamatsu had before, but he wouldn’t again. He’d learned his lesson the hard way.

“What of those who didn’t?” Tarik asked.

“I don’t know. The place has to be in tatters with everyone gone. In the end, Clarissa humiliated Lorcan, and he couldn’t do a damned thing to her without his magic. He did try to get her, though.”

“What happened?”

Noelle smirked.

Tamatsu knew why. It was his favorite part of the tale. Grim, but so fucking satisfying because the right side had “won.”

“I killed him. At the time of the blow, I had one foot in the realm and one out. I was at the rear of the entourage. Clarissa had been right in front of me. Whoever was left behind might still be in that necrotic place, and I give them leave to remain there.”

“You’re certain he’s dead?” Tarik asked.

Tamatsu had once asked the same question. Maybe it was an obvious one to everyone except Noelle. Or maybe it was just an obvious one to beings who knew intimately well that life and death weren’t always straightforward conditions.

“Did I personally bury him?” Noelle asked. “No. But I don’t know anyone who could survive being stabbed clean through the gut. Elves may be long-lived, but we’re not truly immortal. Anyway.” She shrugged. “That’s why we’re here. In the scheme of things, I think we’ve adapted pretty well. I almost never hear of anyone I recognize as an elf getting into any major problem. We suffer from low morale in general, though. I don’t think we’ll ever get quite used to not having our own monarchs.” She grabbed her shoes by the toes and stepped around the table and moved toward the kitchen door. “Also, I know some Coyotes if you want me to make a call or two. I sold a house to one about three years ago and every now and then I see him on the strip. I think he’s part of a pack that’s situated near Sparks.”

“I heard ‘pack,’” Willa said, stepping back into the room, weighed down with two big bags. “What about a pack?” She glanced wildly around the room, eyes wide and eager.

Noelle, holding a wet paper towel, leaned out of the kitchen.

“Who are you?” Willa asked.

“Noelle Flint. Is this your place? I’ll be out in a jiffy. I’ve got to get guts off my Louboutins.” She added in a mutter, “Jenny says I need to stop treating shoes as disposable.”

“Depends on where you get them, right? I’ve had a few pairs I’ve pitched into the trash after getting home from the bar. And, no. This isn’t my place.” Willa set the bags on the table and extended a hand toward Noelle. “I’m Willa. What are you?”

Grasping Willa’s hand to shake, Noelle narrowed her eyes. “Hmm? What am I? I don’t follow.”

Her eyes used to get a shade darker when she told little white lies.

Tamatsu strolled over, hunched, and peered into her face. Less blue. More gray.

Fib.

She blinked. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

Seeing who you are now, woman.

He retreated to the table, watching her watch him. He liked her being a little off-kilter. If he was going to be, he wanted her to be, too.

Willa sighed. “Jeez. No one can ever tell I’m not human. I guess that’s not always such a bad thing. I’m a demigoddess.”

A 'huh,’ sound fell out of Noelle’s open mouth.

“Nothing? Can’t sense anything at all? I can tell something’s off about you, that’s why I ask.”

“Sorry.”

Willa shrugged and then poked Tamatsu’s shoulder. “And that is why I can’t run the pack.”

Tarik chuckled. “Noelle, this is Willa. She’s the Coyote pack’s reluctant patron.”

“Huh,” Noelle repeated. “Well, then. I’m an elf. And … I might know a guy.”

Willa’s eyes went wide. “Yeah? You think that guy knows a guy or a gal who’d like to adopt some dogs? I don’t mind telling you this, lady, but we’re kinda screwed up.”

Noelle cringed. “That’s not good. I’ll call him as soon as I get back to Vegas.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Seems like a hell of a favor to do for a stranger.”

“Hardly. We’re talking about a phone call, dear.”

“You know how things go in our world. People never let you forget a favor until it’s been repaid. Even after it’s been, they want to lord what they did over you because the fact you had a moment of weakness makes them feel more powerful.”

“I assure you, I’m not that petty.”

Tamatsu looked pointedly at Noelle.

“I stand by my statement. If you want to argue, let’s do that in private. Make sure you have plenty of ink and lots of pieces of paper to ball up and toss at me. We could probably go all night.” She winked provocatively and twirled a pen between her fingers. “Just like we used to.”

Impudent wretch.

That wink had been the opening salvo to many sensually erotic nights. The woman had no inhibitions.

But then, neither did he.

His balls gave a most unwelcome “hello” throb and, fortunately, she looked away before he could figure out how to discreetly adjust himself.

“Well, I’d appreciate any help.” Willa gestured to the house and, ostensibly, to the contents within. “I’ve been searching for any information I could find about the pack network, but there’s nothing here. Maybe the old alpha didn’t keep records.”

Tamatsu tapped the table in front of her shoulder and shook his head. He made a slashing gesture.

“What? You don’t think he wanted the pack in the network?”

He nodded.

“Hey. You could be right. I think in the past five years, the only contact the pack has had has been with groups the transplants have come from, and that’s only been two. We don’t have formal relationships with anyone. I’m not sure that’s normal.”

“It’s not,” Noelle said. “In my experience, unless a pack is intentionally trying to isolate itself, every member has some awareness of who the closest neighboring packs are. At the very least, they know which group to call during a pack emergency.”

Willa shook her head slowly in fits and starts as if she were hearing the information for the first time, and the words weren’t settling into the right gaps in her brain. “Apparently, you know more about shapeshifter group management than I do.”

“Live as long as I have, and you pick up a few things.”

“And maybe I have. I’m not gonna ask you your age to confirm either way, though.”

“I appreciate you not doing so.” Noelle grinned. “I don’t need any reminders.”

Willa sighed and turned to Tamatsu and Tarik. “Well. I guess you guys can call it quits for today. Let’s not waste energy looking for something if Noelle can get us the same information by making a couple of phone calls.” She retreated to the end of the table and peered into one of the bags. “You staying for dinner, Noelle?”

Noelle’s lips twitched. “Dinner?” she asked. “I don’t know. Should I?”

Tamatsu wasn’t quite sure what to make of the fancy Noelle yet. He shouldn’t have cared one way or another that the thief had discovered high heels and red lipstick. Unfortunately, his cock reminded him that his morals didn’t have a say in the matter. The fact she was a blackguard didn’t make her any less tempting. If anything, she was more bewitching.

He was truly fucked up.

“You see, I had a coupon,” Willa said, cringing. “Lot of food in here. The angel with the appetite can probably put most of it away, but there’s still going to be some left for those of us with normal-sized stomachs.”

“Mmm. Yes, well. He’s …” Noelle studied her nails and muttered, “always been good at eating.”

So she remembers.

She dropped her hand and shrugged. “Sure. Why not? I haven’t had a meal in a day.” Noelle set her ruined shoes down near the corner, strode to the bags, and pulled a white parcel with a *4 sticker out of a bag. The number four, unless the deli had rearranged its menu offerings in the past three days, was roast beef on rye. One of his favorites.

She sashayed past the table and extended her arm. At the end of it, gripped in a hand with a ruined manicure and a few scrapes that probably hadn’t been there before her trip to the desert, was the *4.

“Do you eat beef now?”

He stared at the damned thing as if she’d magicked it out of thin air instead of pulling it from the bag.

“Am I remembering that right?” She gave her wrist a tantalizing twist. “Beef wasn’t eaten in Japan when I was with you? I may have … gotten some things confused about that winter.”

She had, but not that. He took the sandwich, wondering.

In the short time they were together, she’d managed to completely rock his world, and he still hadn’t recovered after eight hundred years. He’d probably need another eight thousand to get her out of his system for good.

She retreated to the bag and peered into it, gnawing on her lush bottom lip once more.

He set the sandwich down, his hunger suppressed for the moment by old emotions that hadn’t been banked enough, buried deep enough.

Not anger, but something that left ice in his veins.

Fear.

Nothing else scared him like her.

He didn’t want her out of his system, because if he could manage such a feat, then she could do the same with him. Like hell if he was ever going to let her forget him after the hell she’d put him through.