Silver Basilisk - Zoe Chant Page 0,75
in the box.”
Nikos looked up. “Leave infiltration to Bryony. She lives for this kind of mission.”
Joey was working at his phone. “Let’s see if we can get her some backup . . .”
Godiva got to her feet, pointing to her suitcase. “In that case, I may as well go—” She halted, then turned to Rigo. “We should go.”
Rigo sensed question in her searching look. He murmured for her ear only, “If it’s a hassle right now, I can camp at the motel again.”
She replied with a wicked grin, “I’ve got one word for you: waterbed.”
He whispered back, “Andale.”
Chapter 17
GODIVA
They took a Lyft.
There wasn’t much talk on the short ride to Godiva’s place. Her mind was working rapidly, but she didn’t think it was rapid enough. Things had changed so fast! It felt very weird to be taking Rigo to her house, but at the same time it felt so very right. She caught herself mentally reorganizing her bureau, her study—maybe he’d like his own study—or a workroom—waitaminnit, he has an entire ranch.
In Kentucky.
How were they going to do this? Though he could turn people into stone with his eyes, he couldn’t do what Jen did. High on Godiva’s mental To Do list was to make up for lost time going horizontal with Rigo, and she could feel that he was all over this plan, but. Godiva was NOT about to ask Jen to Transfer Gate them back and forth between Kentucky and California every time they wanted some whoopie on the waterbed.
When they got to the house, it was empty—not surprisingly, the houseguests were all at work, or doing other things. She wasn’t too disappointed. Part of her was ready to show him off, but some instinct kept poking at her, as if it was all too easy. Or that she’d forgotten something. She needed Rigo and herself to be completely on the same page before she faced the world again.
“This is my suite over this way, in the oldest part of the house,” she said when they entered. She was aware of her voice coming out a little too fast and a little too high, as if she were eighteen and inexperienced all over again. “You can stay with me—plenty of space—or there are two extra guestrooms right now. I added on twice, joining an old adobe cottage to the main house, and then a new wing with a modern kitchen and laundry room and the living room. The original house plan had a fireplace there—no stove, just a hook for a cauldron and a spit. Here we are,” she finished, after opening all the various doors.
She turned to find him standing in the doorway, looking at her with concern. “Godiva, it’s okay. Everything is okay. We can take things as slow as you want.”
“I want—I want it all now,” she said, crossing her arms tightly. “I want to make up for everything that was taken away from us. I want . . .” She paused, searching for words, then noticed his eyes drop to her arms, then raise, his concern bordering on worry.
She yanked her arms apart, then sighed. “We’re good, aren’t we? Are you worried, or is that my imagination?”
The worry subsided as he came forward and put his arms around her, drawing her close. Her ear pressed against his chest, and she listened to the steady bump-bump of his heart, then breathed out a sigh. “You’re not imagining anything,” he said. “You can sense me, and I can sense you. It’s part of the mate bond.”
“Mate bond?” she said. “Like . . . oh, crapberries, you can’t read my mind, can you? You really don’t want to be in there!”
“I can’t,” he said. “Only your moods. Some shifters can talk mind to mind. We might get there. If you want to. It’s all new for me, too.”
“I’ve been feeling as if I could suss out your moods for days.”
“Probably you can,” he said easily. “it’s different for everyone, so I’m told.”
She drew him to the bed, and they sat down side by side. “Did you always have this bond and I didn’t know?”
“We,” he corrected gently.
“We. I’m trying to get used to that,” she said. “I’ve only been a ‘we’ for spurts here and there, long ago.”
“You were repeatedly abandoned by those you loved most,” he said in a low voice. She could feel his regret. “All for reasons that seemed right at the time, but there you were. Alone. Doing the best you could.”
“Maybe that’s