regarded them with narrowed eyes. “Yes. It certainly looked like it.”
“Persephone.” He deliberately imbued the word with warning.
She blinked, and suddenly her expression shifted from poisonously suspicious to pleasant. He almost wondered if he’d been wrong about her attitude. Almost.
“I thought you might be lonely with the girls away and came over to keep you company.” She glanced at Rowan’s departing back as she scurried away to the kitchen. “I guess I should have come sooner.”
He made a show of glancing at his watch. “It’s a bit late. But we’ll see you tomorrow when you come for the girls.”
The soft click of a door in the kitchen told him Rowan had gone down to her rooms without saying good night. Damn.
Determination not to leave things where they were drove him off the couch. Only he had to get Persephone out of the house first.
And then what?
He had no idea. But he’d figure it out.
Chapter Twenty
With shaking hands, Rowan stripped off her clothes and dressed in her favorite tank top and flannel pajama pants. What on earth had she been thinking, kissing Grey like that? Spending the evening with him, fantasizing that she was exactly the person she pretended to be and the desire she couldn’t miss in his gaze, in his touch, was something she was allowed to act upon.
The ache in her heart had turned into a torment. Each word, each moment shared felt like the tip of a knife slipping between her ribs and twisting, because she knew she had to go. Gods, she’d been tempted to take him up on the offer the heat in his eyes had been making.
Just one night together. Something to remember…
What would he say if she told him the truth?
Not who she was, but the fact that his mere nearness had her body humming with a strange electricity, a slow burn of desire that sizzled under the surface every time he appeared. Her body didn’t do that with other men, even previous boyfriends.
She rubbed at the heat branding the inside of her wrist. The lines there had been on fire all night. She flipped her hand over and gasped. The faint white lines had solidified and come together, now appearing more like a tattoo, the design clear. A sigil, simple and flowing, the design was fascinating. If she guessed correctly, the sign was the sigil for the house of Masters.
“Magi by damned,” she whispered in a broken voice.
The only sigil marks that showed up like a tattoo were those of a bonding—the mark a witch and warlock shared a sacred magically created connection. A vow.
Shifters tended to rely entirely on a fate bond for mating. But the occurrence among mages was possible through magic. Only many didn’t take the option. Love and trust had to be unquestionable, because the act could change their magic.
Only wouldn’t they have had to both agree to the spell?
Besides, Grey had said nothing. He had barely noticed shocking her when he’d touched her the day they met, and this mark had taken time to form. Therefore, this couldn’t be a bonding. Could it?
She had three fucking days to clear out of here and draw the wolves hunting her away from Grey and the girls. What were the fates thinking? She’d ask the girls, but they still had no clue what they were predicting or why.
A bonding? Now?
This must be something else. It had to be.
But the only person she could ask would be Grey himself.
Rowan shook her head. No. She’d concentrate on her plan and deal with the wolf shifters. Then she’d confess everything to Grey and put herself in his hands. And…after all that…if this mark remained and he hadn’t killed her, she would ask him about it.
But not before.
She startled as Nefertiti wound around her ankles, rubbing against her in a show of comfort. Absently, Rowan reached down to pet her soft fur. “What am I going to do, Nefti?”
Nefti turned up her little pink nose and began washing herself, and Rowan shook her head. Like most cats, Nefti didn’t deign to talk to a human. Even one she liked.
That cold chill passed through her body, shaking a shiver down her spine, snapping her out of her thoughts.
Right now, she needed help. Rowan hopped off her bed and snatched her purse from where she’d dropped it on the floor when she’d come home earlier. She fished out her cell phone and called Delilah.
“Rowan?”
“I’m in trouble, and I need your help.”
“Is it Greyson?”
“Not the way you