Finally, when I stood naked before him, I held out my hand. He took it, and I pulled him off the bed and up to his feet. Owen started to gather me in his arms again, but I moved around him, still teasing. Sliding my hands this way and that across his chest. Touching him here, then there, lower, harder, softer, gentler, until the muscles in his neck bulged from the strain of standing still.

I moved behind him, running my fingers through his thick, black hair, before pressing a soft kiss to the side of his neck.

"Let me undress you," I murmured in his ear.

Owen nodded and lifted his arms over his head. I made quick work of his sweater, socks, and pants, and soon, he stood there before me wearing only a pair of black silk boxers. They hung low on his lean hips, a dusky trail of hair dipping down below the waistband. I stepped closer to Owen, who watched me through hooded eyes. He knew the teasing game I was playing, and he was enjoying it just as much as I was.

I hooked one finger in the waistband of his boxers, then lightly snapped them back against his skin.

"Hey, now," he growled. "Don't damage anything you might want me to use in a few minutes."

"Oh, don't worry," I said. "I'll take extra good care of you tonight."

I leaned forward and slowly slid his boxers down his legs. Owen stepped out of them and kicked the silk across the room. But I was already moving forward, putting my mouth on his thick length, sucking gently, then harder, my nails running every which way on and around him.

"Gin," he rasped, his hips automatically pumping forward. Owen braced a hand on the nightstand to keep himself in check.

"Now, now," I said in a soft voice. "Good things come to those who wait."

I continued my teasing for several more minutes, bringing him to the edge again and again but not pushing him over it. Owen groaned with delight.

But finally, he had had enough of my teasing. He grabbed my arms, pulled me to my feet, and picked me up. I locked my legs around his waist. He maneuvered me up against the closet wall and gave me a wicked, wolfish smile, his violet eyes as bright and beautiful as I had ever seen them.

"My turn," he rasped.

His lips dropped to my neck, kissing me there, as one of his hands went down between my legs. I opened myself to him, and he slipped a finger inside me, pumping back and forth in a quick motion that drove me crazy with need. He added another finger, and my pleasure only increased, to the point that it was almost painful.

I threw back my head and clenched myself around his fingers, tighter and tighter, trying to find my release. But Owen was just as good at this game as I was, and he wouldn't let me slip off the edge any more than I had let him before. After several sweet minutes of torture, he pulled me away from the wall and lowered me to the bed.

"You stay right there," he murmured.

Like I had any intention of going anywhere right now.

I took my little white pills, but Owen grabbed a condom out of the nightstand and covered himself with it for extra protection. He reached for me again, but I grabbed his shoulders and made him sit up on the bed. I did my slow grind again, moving up and down on his lap. He wasn't satisfied to just watch this time. His hands were everywhere on my body, even as his head dipped lower and his mouth latched onto one of my nipples, scraping the taut bud with his teeth until I groaned with pleasure.

Back and forth we moved on the bed, first with me on top, then Owen, ours hands and mouths all over each other, taking every single ounce of pleasure the other had to give-and then some.

Finally, we came together, Owen sliding inside me, my hands on his back, urging him to go deeper, harder.

"Yes," I breathed against his neck. "Yes."

Then we both went over the edge-together.

Afterward we lay there in bed, a loose tangle of arms and legs. I felt more sated and loved-physically and otherwise-than I had in a long time. For once, all the soft things that I was feeling, all the tender emotions in my heart, didn't scare me. Not now. Not with Owen. And I had a feeling they never would again.

And most importantly, I could tell he felt the same. It was in the way he kissed me, the way he looked at me, the way he held me, even now, his fingers sliding through my hair, my head on his chest, both of us curled together, each one enjoying the other's warmth and the simple, quiet pleasure of just lying here.

"So I've been thinking about your idea for Christmas," I murmured, lightly running my nails across his broad, muscled chest. "About having a holiday party here."

Owen raised an eyebrow. "And?"

I drew in a breath. "And I think it's a good one. I've already asked Bria to come."

Owen didn't say anything for a moment. "Are you going to tell her then? That you're really her sister?"

I nodded. "I think so. Things are getting too complicated with LaFleur and Mab. I can protect Bria better if she knows the truth. I just hope she can accept who and what I am-and what I plan on doing to Mab."

Owen's arms tightened around me, and he gathered me close once more. "If Bria Coolidge is half the woman you are, then I think she'll understand everything you've been through. You said yourself that she came back to Ashland to find you, to investigate the murder of your mother and older sister."

That was the conclusion I'd drawn the night I'd broken into Bria's house to keep Elliot Slater and his giants from killing her. Finn had snooped around after the fact and had found something interesting in Bria's office-a dry-erase board that contained every known detail about the murder of our mother, Eira, and older sister, Annabella. It looked as if Bria had come back to Ashland for the sole purpose of trying to bring Mab to justice for what the Fire elemental had done to our family.

But that hadn't been the only thing on the murder board. Bria had also had a picture of one of the spider rune scars on my palms taped up there, courtesy of Fletcher. After he'd died, from beyond the grave, the old man had arranged to have a photo of Bria delivered to me so I would realize she was still alive-and he'd sent her one of the scar on my palm in return so she would know the same. I supposed Fletcher had wanted us to find each other-one way or another.

I hoped that Owen was right about Bria accepting me and my dark, murky past, but I couldn't get rid of the tight ball of unease that twisted my stomach. Finding out that your long-lost sister was also a notorious assassin who was going around town killing bad guys wasn't exactly the stuff dreams were made of. So I decided to focus on other matters, starting with the man beside me.

I trailed my hand down Owen's chest, drawing a series of loose circles, before going lower and taking him in my hand.

"Round two?" I suggested, sliding my nails up and down his thick length.

Owen grinned and pulled me even tighter. "I think I'm up for that."

I responded by lowering my lips to his once more.

Chapter 23

I spent the night with Owen. But this time, I didn't get up and sneak out of bed early the next morning. Instead, I woke him up for round three before I had to leave to go to the Pork Pit. After that, it was business as usual at the restaurant.

At least, as much as it could be when I was expecting an assassin to drop by sometime during the day and try to kill me.

Given the fact that Elektra LaFleur had almost succeeded in doing that very thing two nights ago, I took a few extra precautions. More than the ones that were part of my daily routine, anyway. I might long to kill the other assassin, but I wasn't going to be stupid about things either. Fletcher had taught me better than that.

For starters, I had on one of my many silverstone vests, hidden underneath my blue work apron and a bulky black sweater that obscured the lean shape of my body. And I had Owen's oh-so-thoughtful Christmas presents secreted on me as well. A knife tucked up either sleeve, one in the small of my back, and two more stuffed inside my boots.

Early that morning, before the Pork Pit had opened, I'd walked around the interior of the restaurant twice, slowly, looking at it from every angle, thinking what I would do if I wanted to kill the owner of such an establishment. The best way to get in, the easiest way to get close, the weapons I might use. All the things that assassins had to think about if they wanted to get away after the fact. All the things I'd thought about as the Spider for so many years that were just second nature to me now.

Despite Mab's edict to make it look somewhat like an accident, given what I knew of LaFleur, I doubted the other assassin would care exactly how she killed me, as long as she got to use her electrical magic. Hell, I doubted she'd even be that quiet about things. I imagined LaFleur would be perfectly happy to barge in through the front door of the Pork Pit, fry me with her green lightning, and stroll right back out when I was dead and charred. I couldn't fault her for that. Sometimes the direct approach was the best.

I only hoped she'd wait until the restaurant was deserted before she made her move. Collateral damage was one thing I'd always avoided as an assassin. Call me a sentimental fool, but I didn't want some innocent family's Christmas to be ruined because Mommy happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

When I'd thought about things and how they might play out, I flipped the sign on the front door of the Pit over to Open.

Now all that was left to do was wait for LaFleur to show.

And then we'd dance.

The day passed quietly. Well, as quietly as usual, considering the fact that Sophia Deveraux and I were still busy cooking all day long, trying to keep up with all the take-out and holiday party orders that just kept pouring in, despite the fact that tomorrow was Christmas Eve. Normally, I helped wait tables as well as dished up food, but today all I did was cook. Catalina Vasquez and the rest of the waitstaff took over the slack.

Finn dropped by about five that afternoon. As always, he wore one of his designer suits. A Christmas green one with a red candy cane-striped tie that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else. As soon as he sat down at his regular seat at the counter, Sophia poured him a cup of chicory coffee. The Goth dwarf gave Finn a fond smile and patted his hand. Finn grinned and winked back at her. Even gruff, tough Sophia wasn't immune to the legendary charms of Finnegan Lane.

By that time, the take-out orders had started to slow down, and Sophia and I had put together all the party trays for the day. The various members of the waitstaff who'd come into work today were all in the back of the restaurant taking their break, so I decided to take one too and talk to Finn about the latest goings-on in Ashland.

"Anything new?" I asked, putting a few of the pumpkin-raisin cookies I'd baked fresh this morning on a plate and sliding them over to him.

Finn, of course, had two cookies before he bothered to answer me. "Not much, according to my sources. Mab's still holed up on her estate, and LaFleur's still supposed to find the Spider and kill her as soon as possible."

"Same old, same old."

"Same old, same old," Finn agreed.

"What about the others?" I could take care of myself, but everyone else was vulnerable, especially where LaFleur was concerned.

"Everybody's okay. Vinnie and Natasha are still tucked away at Jo-Jo's house, and Roslyn and Xavier are watching their backs. Xavier is also keeping an eye on Bria during their shift together like you wanted him to," Finn said. "There's been no sign of any of Mab's men or LaFleur hanging around the salon, Roslyn's house, the police station, or even Northern Aggression. Everything's quiet so far."

I nodded. "So far."

I doubted it would stay that way through the rest of the night. But when Elektra LaFleur came calling, I would be ready.

And then the assassin would finally die.

But nothing happened the rest of the afternoon and on into the evening. Not a damn thing. Nobody came into the restaurant who looked like she didn't belong. No strange phone calls, no weird take-out orders, nothing.

Finn left to go see what else his snitches had to tell him, and we made a plan to meet at Jo-Jo's later on to try to figure out what to do about Vinnie and Natasha, since the two of them couldn't stay hidden at the dwarf's house forever.

"LaFleur?" Sophia asked, wiping down the back counter.

The waitstaff had left for the evening, and the two of us were alone in the restaurant. I stared out the storefront windows, but the scene hadn't changed since the last time that I'd looked two minutes ago. People still moved back and forth outside on the sidewalk, although the crowd had thinned out after rush hour. Now folks tucked their chins down into their coats and hurried on to their destinations as fast as they could, desperate to get out of the December cold.

I turned to Sophia and shrugged. "Looks like she's not going to show. She must be busy chasing the Spider's ghost tonight, instead of plotting to kill Gin Blanco."

The Goth dwarf grunted and went back to her wiping. It didn't look like anyone else was going to drop by, so we started closing down the restaurant for the night. Turning off the French fryer, doing the same to the griddle and the ovens, putting the leftover food into the refrigerators-all our usual routines.

When all that was done, I grabbed the day's trash, opened the back door of the restaurant, and stepped outside into the alley behind the Pork Pit.

The crackle of electricity in the air immediately told me she was here.

I could feel Elektra LaFleur's elemental magic leaking off her like water dripping from a faucet. Some elementals were like that-they constantly gave off magic, even when they weren't consciously using their power. They just oozed magic at all times. That's why I always felt red-hot needles pricking my skin whenever I was in Mab's proximity. The Fire elemental radiated power just like LaFleur was doing right now.

Even if LaFleur hadn't been dripping with elemental power, my own Stone magic would have clued me in to the fact that something was wrong in the alley. Instead of their usual slow, clogged murmurs, the bricks of the restaurant had taken on sharp, muttered notes of worry. Something had disturbed the stone, and I knew exactly what it was-the twisted, shocking intentions of the assassin lying in wait for me. The new, harsh vibration overpowered the bricks' usual sighs of contentment.