The bastard was too graceful and handsome to be a mere human servant. Bloody damn it all. This eve was growing worse and wors.

“Have you any notion of what spawned the elementals?” Nan asked. “Not many do anymor.

Not many want to remember, for fear of calling up that dark power.” To give voice to something was to give it power. Every good little demon knew as much. Will swallowed hard. He had a good guess now but, as Nan suggested, he really didn’t want to say. Unfortunately, she said it for him. “Fae.” Unease settled over Will like an icy counterpan.

An old dread that spoke to his soul. Will refused to glance about, no matter how much it felt as though a fae might pop up at the word. Despite the sweet, pretty beings that humans loved to depict as fae, they were anything but kind. As old as primus demons, and just as rare, a true faire could rip a soul to shreds. They were said to be tricksters, and, yes, cruel and ruthless beyond compar.

“Aye, you understand. And the ancient whose blood runs through the Evernight family will not be pleased should one be harmed.” Will shook himself out of his childlike fright. Ghost stories for supernaturals. That was all this was. “If they are so powerful, then why are assassins on Miss Evernight’s tail? Why hasn’t this great and powerful ancient stopped them all?” “Good question. Why do you suppose?” Not an answer then. So the old witch was hiding something. Or lying through her teeth. He merely stared at her, annoyed now. And she gave him a cheeky grin. “Did it ever occur to you that perhaps they want the two of you together?” The words were barely out of her mouth before she went pale and seemed to choke, as if something struck her in the throat. Will was of a mind to fetch her water, but she took a deep breath and appeared unharmed. “I cannot begin to fathom why her kin would want me around,” Will said truthfully. But if they did, it was in his best interest to keep his distance from Evernight. Which would be easier said than don.

As if reading his thoughts, Nan nodded. “Best to start thinking on that, boy.” She was still pale, but it was clear that she was done with him. She moved to go, dismissing him with a simple turn of her back. “And stay out of the mistress’s room!”

Chapter Seven

Holly had finished the last stroke of her nightly hair brushing when Nan entered the dressing room. “How fares our guest?” Holly had last seen him being hauled off by footmen after she’d pulled the metal back from invading his lean fram.

Nan had promised to look after him. “Sleeping.” Nan picked up an errant stocking that Holly had discarded upon changing. “I checked on him so don’t you go checking on him,” she added with an emphatic look of warning. “You’ve warn yourself out.” “I am perfectly fine.” Her cheeks heated. “Nor had I intended to seek out Mr. Thorne.” Blasted Nan knew her too well by half. The woman harrumphed before her expression turned serious. “We found something.” She held out her palm, in which rested a black dagger. “The wee devil that broke in left this behind.” Holly eyed the thing as though it were a bomb. She knew that dagger. “Leave it with me.” Nan frowned. “I’ve noticed your experiment has a similar one tattooed on his arm. Best you be asking him why.” “He is not my ‘experiment.’ ” But Nan was correct; she needed to ask. What did the dagger mean? Time for a change of subject. “Why,” Holly asked as she set down the silver-backed brush, “is it so cold in the house?” Nan’s thin mouth went thinner. “The boiler was rattling like an untended kettl.

Felix ordered it turned down. I was coming to tell you when you rang.” A sly hint of censure ther.

Holly’s lips curled in a small smil.

“My intention was not to question your management skills, Nanny. I’m simply cold and irritable.” Nan made a noise of amusement. “If you weren’t questioning everything, I do believe I’d die of shock.” She bustled about the room, picking up Holly’s discarded boots. “Would you like to see to the boiler now, lass?” Holly smothered a yawn. “Honestly, no. I’m knackered.” She’d likely do more harm than good if her mind wasn’t completely on task. The boiler had an intricate design that required one’s full attention. Worse, it was housed outside the main building for safety purposes. Holly had no intention of venturing to any outbuildings this night. “I’ll put more coal on the fire,” Nan said. And did just that before leaving her. Coal fires were inefficient and smoky. Something that became fairly obvious when one’s efficient radiator heating system decided to di.

Alone in her bed, she hugged a pillow to her chest and moved her feet about to increase the friction, thus bringing forth a bit more heat. She really ought to go out to fix the boiler before the pipes froz.

But she could not summon the energy. Rest. She needed rest. So why was she wide awake? “Bother,” she muttered against her pillow. Her internal debate was still raging when the covers lifted on the far side of the bed, sending a blast of cold air over her. “What the bleeding hell.” Holly whipped around as Thorne slid between the sheets, a mulish expression on his fac.

“I have need.” The declaration sent a hot bolt of shock through her center. When she merely gaped, he glared at her. “In pain here, love, if you don’t mind.” He slid closer, gathering her up. Holly pressed a quelling hand against his chest. “Your pain is no excuse for invading my privacy. Or getting into my bed!” she added with heat, for he merely snorted and did not let go. “It is the only reason I’d be here,” he said with feeling. “And you cannot find me too distasteful, as you left off your little electric wall tonight.” “An oversight that I am now lamenting,” she said darkly. His eyes flashed silver in the waning firelight. “Your mistak.

Now, if you do not mind.” He gestured between him and her with his chin. “Get on with it, sweets.” She wanted to throttle him. And would have, if their legs hadn’t become entangled, his hot and rough with crisp hair. She tried to ignore that. And ignore the sensation of being pressed bodily against his lean strength. Opening her fingers wide upon the center of his chest, she sent a bolt of power through him even as she pushed him away. “There,” she nearly snarled. “Now, kindly leave.” Had she been wanting to see him? She must have been momentarily afflicted by a bout of insanity. Thorne rose up on one elbow, light gleaming over his altered flesh and glowing softly on his natural skin. Good lord above, was he naked? Holly gripped the covers so that she would not lift them and take a peek. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, as if she’d suggested something utterly ridiculous. “I’m sleeping here.” “You most certainly are not.” She’d go mad. He was too much for her, lying as he was in her space, crowding her with his heat and seductive scent. His vitality alone had her body humming with unwanted excitement. Thorne raked a hand through his unruly hair, pushing the mass of it back, and peered down at her as if she were addlepated. “What do you suggest I do? Lie in my bed, writhing in agony and slowly losing my wits? Until I attack someone, perhaps your pretty maid? Or ought I stay with you and feel a measure of calm? Get some much needed rest so that I might track down this bounty on your head?” Well, when put that way… Holly shook her head. “Must you lie so close? You’re crowding me.” A slow smile pulled at his lips. “Bothers you, does it?” Dark eyes slid along her length, making her feel stark na**d as opposed to being covered from toe to chin in layers of eiderdown. “You do seem rather stirred up.” “Annoyed is the word to use.” Holly burrowed farther under the covers and moved away from him. Unfortunately the edge of the bed was at her back. He grinned as if he realized the fact, and as if he did not believe her. “I’ll behave.” His solemn, almost innocent tone belied the evil twinkle in his eyes. Beneath her hand, his heart pumped a steady rhythm. Holly hadn’t realized that she was still touching him. She moved to take her hand away when he growled and slapped his bigger hand over hers. Trapping her ther.

“If,” he amended, “you keep touching me.” “That is impossibl.

Once I fall asleep,” which was appearing to be less and less likely, “I cannot control where I place my hands.” “I thought of that,” he said, far too happily for comfort. Before she could blink, he grabbed her wrist and snapped something over it. “So I thought we’d use these.” Another snap rang out, and he lifted his arm to display a cuff upon his wrist and the chain that ran from his to hers. The cuff on Holly’s seemed to burn down to her bones. Rage and unmitigated shock choked her for an endless moment as she stared up at his smug fac.

She fairly shook with fury. “You…” She gritted her teeth and found her voic.

“You put a bloody shackle on me? You sodding chained me,” she screeched at his rapidly fading smil.

“After he did!” Thorne thrust his chin forward. Pugnacious little shit.

“Come now. It’s silk-lined. Hardly the same thing at all. And it isn’t as if I am not suffering the same indignity.” Holly saw stars of red. “Get it off! Get it the bloody hell off of me.” Heedless, she punched at his hard, solid chest, each blow of her left hand restricted by the pull of the cuff. “Get it off now, or I swear to God, I will push a sea of hurt straight into your rusty, metal heart.” She was screaming now, her throat raw. The cuff seemed to grow tighter, threatening to break her bones. “Get. It. Off!” A solid weight bore her further down into the feather bed. Arms bracketed her, holding her close, preventing her from flailing. “All right, love.” A deep voice at her ear. “All right. Just let me.” She wiggled, aiming a knee towards the softer bits she knew were ther.

A grunt, and she was held more firmly. “Christ’s thorns. I’m taking it off, yes?” The sound of metal clicking shot through her panic, and the cuff on her wrist fell away. A moment later, the hard body on top of her rolled away. Holly sucked in a great gulp of air, the cool rush of it clearing her head, then she bolted upright. Thorne, bare-chested and hair disheveled, stared at her. Regret and something much like pity lined his expression. In silence they faced each other, both of them panting lightly. Then Holly slapped him. Hard enough to send fiery pain through her hand. Hard enough that his head canted to the side and a sheet of white hair slid over his cheek. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.” Holly held her scarred wrist close against her chest. Thorne stayed utterly still, his head bent, his face averted and hidden beneath his hair. Then slowly he straightened. His eyes, a brilliant striation of black and silver lines, bore into hers. “No. Never again.” Heat prickled behind her lids and at the base of her nos.

She drew in another breath. Calm. Center. Crisply, she nodded. The silence between them was close and thick. Awkward. Next to her, Thorne stirred, his throat working on a hard swallow. His torso, that glorious example of sinewy musculature, tightened as the ever-present evil lake of platinum spread in a rapid wave outward from his scar. But he didn’t make a sound of pain. Slowly, she reached out and placed her palm on his chest. Thorne sucked in a soft breath, but held still for her. As she concentrated on easing his pain, she spok.

“I’ve no desire to freeze my feet, so you’ll have to get it, but in the top drawer of my bureau in the dressing room, I keep a collection of hair ribbons.” She could feel his gaze upon her and see his surprise in the clenching of his rippled abdominal wall. She let her hand drop and lifted her eyes to his. Some strange emotion passed over his expression before he nodded and went to do as she asked. She did not watch him go, other than to note that Thorne wore a pair of flannel smalls that reached his knees and hung far too low on his hips, exposing the crack of a rather taut and very fine ars.

Flushed, she studied the starburst pattern on her cover as the sounds of Thorne retrieving the ribbon drifted out from the other room. Soon the bed creaked under his weight as he slid back into it. The intimacy of it, as if he already belonged there, had her insides tightening. She ought to have chased him out. Why was it that she’d allowed him to stay? “Here.” His voice was soft as he held a long length of red satin ribbon out to her. Wordlessly, Holly took the ribbon and began to wrap it about her right wrist. She favored sleeping on her left side, so this would have to do. Just as silent, Thorne held out his strong wrist for her. She bound them together with a figure eight wrap, but when she tried to tie the final knot, her fingers fumbled, awkward with the use of only one hand. “Here,” Thorne said quietly, “let me.” Leaning in close, until their foreheads nearly touched and his hair curtained over their bound wrists, he held the blunt tip of one finger to the knot as she pulled the other end tight. Done, Holly slowly raised her head. Their gazes locked. Holly’s mouth went dry, the urge to lean in just a little further making her belly clench. It clenched tighter when Thorne threaded his fingers through hers and clasped her hand. “Why,” Thorne whispered, “is the ribbon acceptable?” She answered just as low, though she couldn’t say what prompted her to whisper. “It just is.” It wasn’t a chain. It didn’t clank, or weigh her down. But to voice that would give rise to an old panic. Perhaps he read that in her eyes, for he simply nodded as if it made perfect sens.

Then he sighed, his chest lifting and falling with the sound. “Lie down. Sleep. I promise, I won’t hurt you. And I’m only here because I have to be.” Was that supposed to comfort her? Instead, it sent a pang of something through her breast. Something uncomfortabl.

But Holly did as bided, curling up on her side and letting her arm fall behind her so her link with Thorne wouldn’t pull tight. Not that it mattered. Thorne slid in close, spooning his body to hers and bringing their linked arms together before her. Nothing, not even the heaviest cover, felt as secure, as instantly warming as his hold. From the man who’d come here to kill her. Who nearly killed another this day. “Thorne—” “Do not waste your breath fussing,” he cut in blandly. “It’s the only way to lie comfortably.” He snuggled in further, bringing parts of him she’d rather not focus on into contact. “And I will keep you warm.” All tru.