“Go to the Sorcerers’ Guild,” Grey said to Miranda. “Try to convince them that we meant no harm and have them contact us.”

She grimaced. “I’ll do my best, but I’m not sure my charm is going to do any good there.”

“Try. If anyone can do it, you can. And keep working on the various guilds. See if you can get the more reticent ones to evacuate their people from city.”

“I will.” She departed silently.

My stomach roared, and I went to the table, ravenous. It was laid with an enormous spread of incredible variety. Steak pie, curry, pasta, and even pasties with gleaming golden crust. Grey joined me, and we ate in silence, finishing quickly and efficiently.

When I’d downed the last bite of my fish and chips, he said, “Your magic is changing.”

“I know.” I thought of the way I’d been able to zoom in on the vision of Mariketta’s crypt, and then of how I’d had a hard time getting the information I needed from her memories. My powers were totally unreliable. “But how do you know?”

“I can feel it.” His jaw tightened. “And that’s dangerous.”

My shoulders slumped.

“It’s one thing not to be able to control your magic,” he said. “That’s bad enough. But you have magic that is constantly growing and changing. That is unheard of.”

“I can’t let the Council know.”

“You can’t.” A deep frown cut across his face. “I can control them to a point, but I can only do so much. I can’t force them to obey my every command. Impossible to control so many. Not forever.”

I nodded.

“Learning to use and control your magic is going to take time,” he said.

“Time we don’t have.”

“But we can teach you to suppress your magical signature so that they think you have control.”

Hope flared. “I like the sound of that.”

“Every supernatural learns to do it. Normally, it’s easier. Less power equals less of a signature to control. But you have a lot of power.”

“It’s like trying not to stink when you sweat, isn’t it?”

He chuckled. “Essentially.”

“I can’t even imagine how to do that.”

“I’ll help you. We started out the wrong way at La Papillon. I was trying to train you to use your magic—to compel it to do your will. But we need to start with something more attainable.”

“And this is it.”

“This is it.”

“Why are they so interested in me?” I asked. “It seems overly aggressive.”

“It is. They’re normally intense about this kind of thing. But with you…there’s something more to it.” His gaze dropped to the crystal around my neck. It was tucked under my shirt, but I could feel its weight. “It likely has something to do with your ability to hold that.”

“They want Orion’s Heart?”

“Or they want you. You’re strong enough to hold it, not anyone else.”

Part of me wished I’d never grabbed this thing, but it had saved a woman’s life. It had also marked me as a weirdo. Just like my actions at Police College. I’d used my powers too much then and made everyone suspicious.

Same here.

I pushed the chair back and stood. “Okay, let’s get started. I’m going to learn to lock down this signature. I want to appear as powerful as a mouse.”

He grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

I smiled back, liking this moment of camaraderie. We’d had a strange acquaintanceship so far, full of mistrust and attraction and life-saving deeds. Yet no dates or talking or normal stuff.

And I was still falling for him. Not in a normal way, as a product of normal experiences. No—in a strange way, one built of huge moments with mistrust in between.

I shook the thought away and looked at him. “What do I need to do?”

He stood and went to the window, then gestured for me to approach. “Come here.”

I joined him, stopping a few inches away.

“Press your hand to my chest,” he said. “I’m going to release my magical signature, and you’ll feel it. When I draw it back into myself, try to focus on what that feels like. Use it as a guide for yourself.”

More touching? I wasn’t sure I could handle it.

I wasn’t going to jump him or anything, but it certainly wasn’t going to help me keep my distance from him.

He looked at me expectantly. There was no way I could say that in front of him, and so I raised my hand and pressed it to his chest, feeling the firmness of his muscles.

He drew in a quiet, unsteady breath.

His magic flared fiercely, and my knees nearly buckled. The firelight and whiskey scent of it swept through the room, followed by the sound of thunder. It was so loud it nearly deafened me, and I stumbled back.

“I’m sorry.” He winced.

“I don’t mind thunder.”

“Thunder?” He looked outside.

The night was clear and bright.

“Your magic. It sounds like thunder.”

“No. It sounds like the screams of the dying.”

My eyes widened. “The screams of the what now?”

“The dying. And it feels like the icy grip of death.”

“No, it feels like a warm…caress.” I could feel it even now, stroking over me. This was one signature of his that I hadn’t felt yet, and I wanted to lean into it. “And it smells like fire and whiskey.”

“That’s impossible. I know what my signature is. Everyone knows what it is.”

I shrugged. “I know what I smell and hear, and it’s not what you’re describing. But if everyone thinks you feel like death, then I can see why you aren’t the most popular guy in town.”

A surprised laugh huffed out of him, and he met my gaze. “My magic really feels like that? Sounds like that?”

I nodded. “I like it.”

“Strange. Signatures shouldn’t be perceived differently by different people. They are what they are.”

We were different. Our bond was different.

But I didn’t say it.

I could see that he knew it—the way the knowledge flickered in his eyes and his jaw clenched.

Neither of us knew what to do with the bits of information we had. It didn’t matter. The Cursed Mates thing had to wait. We had bigger problems, and I needed to practice controlling my signature. I also needed a long, hard nap if I wanted to survive and save Guild City.

“Let’s get back to work,” I said.

He nodded.

I pressed my hand firmly against his chest and focused on his magic. Again, he released it, and this time, I was ready. I still swayed slightly but didn’t jump.

“I’m going to retract it now,” he said.

I could feel it flow back into his body like water. His heart rate slowed slightly, and I focused on the feeling of his magic, trying to imagine doing the same with my own. When he’d pulled it all inside of himself, I could almost feel him building a wall within his soul.

“Wow.” I whistled out a low breath. “Amazing. I can feel it.”

“You try.”

I mimicked what he’d done, trying to recreate it for myself. It went better than when I’d practiced with Eve and Mac. But then, they’d had a totally different method.

I liked Grey’s better.

It took a few tries, but I improved.

“That’s better,” he said. “Now, keep that wall built inside you to contain it.”

“I’ll work on it.” A yawn stole over me, and I reached up to stifle it.

“We need to rest.”

I nodded. I was so tired, I could barely stand. “I’ll get out of here.”

“No.” He gripped my arm, then released it quickly, looking startled. “The sorcerers will be out for blood.”

I winced. “We need to explain to them what we were doing there.”

“Miranda is trying. And if she doesn’t succeed, I will. But right now, it’s better if you’re not wandering the streets alone after breaking into their tower. You don’t want them to catch you.”

“I really don’t.”

“There’s another bedroom here. In the morning, we’ll go together.”

I nodded, wondering how I’d handle sleeping so close to Grey. Could I even sleep, as worked up as I was?

14

Grey

The next morning, I woke from dreams of Carrow. The sun was just rising, and the golden light reminded me of her hair.

Weak.

Disgusted, I dragged a hand over my head and climbed out of bed. So much had happened last night. My mind was still spinning, but I forced it to the back of my thoughts.

No time for that now.

I pulled on loose cotton pants and strode to the room where Carrow slept, passing the bookshelves that hadn’t held my interest in years.

As I passed, one title caught my eye.

Poetry.

The faintest bit of interest flared, and I frowned.

That was odd.

I shook it away and went to her room, knocking on the door. “It’s morning.”

“I’ll be out soon.” Her voice sounded sleepy, and the idea of her curled up in bed made heat flash through me.

I returned to my room and had a record-quick shower, then dressed in dark trousers and a T-shirt, topping it with a black jacket. It’d be better to blend with the shadows, considering what was coming.

I tapped my comms charm. “Miranda?”

There was no response.

I frowned, hoping that she was safe. The sorcerers were highly unlikely to hurt her, and she could take care of herself. All the same, I worried.

A few moments later, I met Carrow in the living room. Her hair was damp from her shower. Miranda has brought her some clothes before heading to the Sorcerers’ Guild—black jeans, T-shirt, and leather jacket, her usual uniform. We were dressed alike, I realized.

“You need to stop getting me clothes,” she said.