Odyn is out of his seat before I can protest, one hand on the back of my chair, the other on the table. He’s leaning over it, and I’m so consumed by him, I can barely breathe.
“Being a necromancer has nothing to do with our own mortality, Mila. It’s an inherent form of magic that allows those born in the bloodline to communicate, and in extreme cases, lift the dead. In itself, it’s neither good nor evil. It’s the practitioner who defines the art by either adhering to a strict code of ethics or delving into a darker realm.”
“What does that have to do with my mother?” I ask quietly.
“It means she had no clue when she left the house what was about to happen. Necromancers can no more predict the future than we can stop it.”
It isn’t until the hand that rested on the back of my chair brushes across my cheek that I feel the wetness trailing from my eyes. I haven’t cried about my mother since her funeral. What is it about this man that makes me so emotional?
I let out a wobbly breath and pull away from his touch. “Then who are these Elders, and what do they have to do with the case?”
He shakes his head, his eyes darting toward the window as a chorus of sirens wail outside. “I’m not sure you’re ready to hear all this, Mila.”
“Goddammit, Odyn! I have sixteen confirmed dead bodies and another one I can’t mention because I can’t exactly tell my supervisor I almost hit the victim’s ghost with my car.” Leaping to my feet, I grab the soft material of his gray button-up shirt in my hands and pull him toward me. “Tell me who they are!”
“It’s not that simple.”
My fists tighten as my volume rises. “I have a responsibility to the citizens of this city. I swore an oath to protect them, and I can’t have any more death on my hands.”
In one swift movement, he jerks my arm against his chest, his breathing so ragged I can feel each exhale against my cheek. I swallow hard, his unique woodsy scent scrambling my thoughts. Every detective’s instinct screams at me to pull away and get the hell out, but it’s the female instinct that absorbs his closeness and yields to his demands.
“Well, I have a responsibility to you, Mila!” he roars, only a breath between us. “I swore an oath to your mother to protect you, and I’ll be damned if I’ll have your death on my hands. Do you understand me? I won’t lose you too!”
As the last words leave his lips, he slams them against mine, taking me by surprise and stripping away my last defense. There’s no gentle prelude to his kiss. It’s rough, insistent, and powerful. Gone is the Odyn who seemed intimidated by my barbs and insults, and in his place stands a man consumed by such fierce lust my knees buckle.
Odyn’s strong arm wraps around my waist, holding me up as his tongue plunges deeply past my lips, dominating me and bending me to his will. I’m his to mold, his to taste, and his to take. My lungs scream for air, but I don’t care if I ever take another breath as long as he keeps kissing me.
“Fuck,” he groans, turning us around until my ass hits the table. Instinctively, my legs part, and he steps in between them, his hand diving into my thick hair and winding the strands around his fingers. “Tell me to stop.”
I should. The words are on the tip of my tongue. However, so is his tongue, and between the two, there’s no contest.
“I can’t,” I murmur, running my hand up the hard plane of his chest. I’m rewarded with a guttural groan, and the hand resting on my hip slides up my rib cage toward my breast.
Holy shit, this is a bad idea. Such a bad, bad idea.
The minute his thumb circles my nipple, I break the kiss, throwing my head back and letting out a tortured whimper. Odyn is muttering to himself, but I’m so far gone he could be casting some ancient voodoo curse on me for all I know.
“God, I want you.” Settling deeper in between my legs, he lowers me against the table until I’m lying flat. His ridiculous Book of Shadows is jamming into my spine, but I don’t care. I could be draped across an active volcano right now and I wouldn’t care as long as he kept touching me.
“Odyn,” I groan.
He licks his full lips once before diving for my neck, sucking the delicate skin between his teeth as his hands wander down my body. “Lola.”
It’s as if all the electricity in the room goes out, bathing everything in cold darkness. Both of us freeze, not sure what to say or do. His gray eyes fill with shock and apology, but I don’t want to hear him vocalize either.
I’m mortified enough for the both of us.
“Mila,” he says softly, pushing off me.
“Don’t,” I beg, holding up my hand.
The corners of his eyes turn down, telling me in no uncertain terms that his conscience isn’t going to let him off the hook with a sympathetic smile and nod. He’s going to try to explain calling out his dead lover’s name while feeling me up.
Too bad Hallmark doesn’t make a card for that.
Just as he pushes off me, one hand covering his forehead while the other balances on the table, the shrill ring of my phone echoes throughout the silent room, saving my dignity.
Avoiding his stare, I retrieve my phone from my pocket. “Moroz,” I answer as calmly as I can.
“Judy LeClerq,” Nick announces.
I wrinkle my nose. “Huh?”
“You know, the spooky streetwalker you almost took out earlier? Her name is Judy LeClerq.”
His words are like a punch in the gut. She’s been found hours after I already knew of her death.
The sirens.
“Chartres Street?” I whisper.
I can hear the stutter in Nick’s breath. “Yeah, how did you—”
Now I know why Odyn wanted to meet at his apartment.
He fucking knew.
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