Masked By Danger by Christa Wick
Chapter Twenty-One
"What's this?"Iris asked as Cade slid a key into a lock on a double set of doors only slightly less impressive than those fronting the Gladwins' living quarters.
"Your new home," he answered, pushing the doors open and guiding her inside.
She stepped in, nose lifting to scent the air.
"If it's my new home, how come I can smell you all over the place?"
Crossing the threshold, he shrugged. "It's were I lived for a few weeks before I moved to the border house. They didn't install anyone new since then."
He swept his arms wide. "Living room."
He pointed at a set of swinging doors next. "Dining room and the kitchen beyond that."
"Are there a set of Chinese menus stuck to the refrigerator with a magnet? Because that's how I cook."
Cade grinned and braced for a slug.
"You'll learn."
Spinning away before she could actually hit him, he turned down a side hall, a finger flicking the doors as he passed them. "Hall bath, office one, office two, bedroom, and…master bedroom."
On that last room, he opened the door and slid inside, leaving Iris to follow him.
She did.
The sheets were still in a tangle, his scent soaked into every surface.
His scent…and only his scent.
Grabbing Iris by the hips, he gently swung her to the edge of the bed and pushed her down until she was sitting, her neck arched to look up at him.
"When I said I wanted someplace private to talk," Iris protested, half-jokingly "I didn't mean your bedroom."
"I said master bedroom," he corrected, dark gaze sparkling at her as he settled against the dresser. His strong hands curled around its top lip and then he nodded. "So, what is it you want to talk about?"
Iris would have preferred the diversion of an argument, especially given the location. She could smell several days' worth of Cade's scent layered around the bedroom. While the mint and pine odors that clung to his presence usually made her crisp-minded, a third odor, one of fresh grass dipped in dew, seemed to inhabit his sleeping area.
Right where her body perched, the scent of mint and pine curled around her thighs like thick fingers.
Keep it together, North!
Cade leaned forward, his ass still against the dresser, but his height sufficient that he loomed over her from two feet away. "Baby, everything's about to turn into mobilization central around here. So what did you want to tell me?"
Her mouth flattened. Even though the threat had been present since the beginning of Oscar's rescue, time was still of the essence.
She should just cut to the chase and tell him what he wanted, not deflect the issue by talking about things he already knew—Esme's crystals, how the handful of other latents she and the witch had checked were clear, or how Seth's pack was preparing to take Lana and the Wonder Twins to the West Virginia and Tennessee clans to check their latents.
Or maybe she shouldn't say anything at all. Maybe she shouldn't have him present when Esme and Lana worked on restoring Iris's lost weeks.
"Iris..." Cade eased his way onto the bed next to her, his tone a jumble of frustration, tenderness and impatience.
She drew a shaky breath. He had every right to be impatient. She had made him wait for twelve years.
His hand curled around hers then and she released the breath she had been holding.
Start small, she thought.
"Esme and Lana are going to regress my memory this afternoon."
His gaze widened and he gave a small nod. "I wondered why she didn't argue with Denver about delaying a while longer before convening the Witches' Council."
"Exactly," Iris answered. "That and making sure the other latents in this clan are clear."
"Yeah." A harsh laugh punctuated his agreement as his mind turned toward the crystals in Esme. "We will find Camille one of these days and she better hope someone other than Denver gets to her first."
Pulling Iris's hand onto his lap, Cade tilted his head down so he could see her face and she could see his. He waited for her to say something more. She let him wait, her brain still turning over which was the wiser course—have him present or lie and say that was all she wanted to tell him.
Hell, "wise" wasn't even part of her calculations. She wanted what was less painful for both of them. Only she hurt at the idea of him being absent during the regression every bit as much as his being present cut at her.
Different pains, but equal.
Smothering both was the fear of the unknown. What would she remember? What horrible, terrifying things would come out of her mouth?
"I suppose you don't want me there when it happens?" He said at last.
She didn't listen to the words so much as their tone, at the fierce quiver of need to protect her and at the undercurrent of hurt because he thought she didn't want him with her.
She turned toward him, unsheddable tears filling her eyes as she shook her head.
"I absolutely want you with me when they do it."
There! The decision was made; no turning back now.
So why didn't she feel any relief?
