The Keepers: Declan

“After what I’ve done to you I find that hard to believe.”

“Payback’s a bitch but it’s not what I’m after. I simply want answers.”

He used her moment of hesitation to close the distance between them in a lightning quick move. She screamed as he grabbed the gun from her but he tossed it to the couch where it landed with a thud.

She tried to punch him but he caught her wrists. She lurched forward, unbalancing them both and they stumbled across the couch and onto the floor.

“Kate!” he snapped, keeping a firm grip on her wrists. He adjusted his weight, pinning her beneath him. “Kate, stop it!”

Their eyes met and he heard the air leave her lungs in surrender. They stared at each other in prickly silence, electricity pulsing between them. Her heart hammered in her chest against his, reminding him of the last time she’d been breathless in his arms.

“Calm down,” he said, pushing away the memories. “I won’t hurt you. I just want to talk.”

“By attacking me on the front porch?”

“I’m sorry. You ran and I acted without thinking.” His lips twitched in an attempt to bring them onto even ground. “Animal instinct and all that.”

“You broke down my door.”

“Apparently locks aren’t a hindrance to either of us.”

“What do you want, Declan?”

He could think of a lot he wanted from her. A shitload of answers for starters. He released her wrists and lifted his weight, but still kept her pinned beneath him. No chance he was letting this wildcat go until he was convinced she was calm.

“Now that Harper knows we’re both in town, he’s going to come looking for us. No more fighting, okay?” He waited for her to acknowledge him and a moment later, she gave a brief nod. Releasing her, he pushed himself up, bringing her with him.

Holding her hands, he drew her closer, tucking their entwined fingers between them. The impact of their closeness stirred the heat between them. She drew a sharp breath, lifting her head to meet his gaze, and he almost grinned when he felt the quiver through her body. He inhaled her scent, allowing it to wash over him. Her lips were full and ripe with promises of more. Lips he’d devoured many times over.

“Declan … ” she whispered, but didn’t pull away.

She was so close and for an insane moment, he had the urge to kiss her.

Their differences be damned.

“You lied to me, misled me, attacked me,” he murmured, dipping his head toward hers, “but what we had three months ago wasn’t fake, was it?”

Her gaze faltered to his lips, heat pulsing between them. But she didn’t deny it.

“I thought so.” Grinning, he released her, not missing the way her armour slid back into place the moment he took a step back. He reached for the gun, masking his surprise when he found it wasn’t even loaded, and returned the useless weapon to her. “You don’t need this with me.”

Dropping her shoulders, she nodded.

And so a truce was made. A shaky one, but it was good enough for now.

“How did you find me?” She took the gun from him. Without breaking eye contact, she moved back, still keeping her distance, and placed it on the kitchen counter.

“You stole from me, left me buck-naked, and returned to trash my house. You really think I’d let that go?” He glanced at the bag at the front door. “Going somewhere?”

“I never unpack.”

These three simple words arrested Declan for a moment.

“That’s what you get for messing with Crème de la Creepy.”

“I wasn’t messing with anyone.” Her expression remained blank. “Why are you here, Declan?”

“The key and the daggers. Shall we start with that?”

“Would you have given me either if I’d asked?”

“Depends why you wanted them.”

“Yeah, right.” She flashed him an irritated glance and bent to retrieve an overturned lamp. He didn’t miss the slight wince when she straightened or the attempt to cover it by turning away.

He edged forward. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

He went to her, felt her stiffen before he even touched her. “Kate, are you hurt?”

She turned slowly around to face him, touching the square band-aid beside her throat. Damn, how had he missed that?

“It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” He didn’t bother keeping the agitation from his voice. Reaching up, he peeled her fingers back and frowned when he saw the bruises around her neck. Shit.

She was hurt. A flash of anger reared up in his gut. Attacking her earlier was hardly his proudest moment, but damn it, someone had cut her. The idea summoned a range of emotions he was quick to dismiss. Why it bothered him remained unclear. In a world where malice lurked behind every corner, it wasn’t surprising she sported war wounds.

Kate swiped his hand away and covered the white patch with hers. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“When did this happen?”

“Two nights ago.”

“After I lost you on Bourbon?”

Her face brightened. “You were there?”

He cocked a brow.

“Max found me when we split up. He’s a Mimic and imitated you, led me to a back entrance of a hotel. He almost fooled me but I spotted his tattoo and got away. I wasn’t sure you’d been there at all.”

“I was there,” he murmured, not taking his eyes off her. “Max is a Mimic?” The last Mimic he’d seen had been Mason Brogan. The night Sarah had died.

He held up the hand that bore his Keeper ring. “Mimics are dangerous and it’s not the last time they’ll fool you. But they can’t imitate the mark of a Keeper.” He flashed his ring at her, and then reached up to touch the wound on her neck. “Why hasn’t this healed completely yet? Your Keeper powers should’ve healed that by now.”

Irritation tightened her brow, hardening her expression. “I’m not as strong as you.”