Bait N' Witch (Brimstone Inc. #3) - Abigail Owen Page 0,56
flying wildly about her face, and she probably resembled a banshee. “Delilah has an urgent need for me with…another family. Something she insists only I can handle.”
Grey moved. Unashamed of his undressed form, he jumped out of the bed and pulled his jeans on, leaving the top unbuttoned. Even now, she itched to shuck them back off his body and tumble them both back into bed.
He moved in front of her and gripped her arms. But he didn’t face her with anger now, only concern. “What could be so urgent a witch with limited magic could fix it? Let me help. Leaving here is not the answer.”
Hounds of hell, this was harder than she’d anticipated. “I gave her my word.”
He gave her a little shake. “You gave me your word. The girls will be devastated.”
Tears pressing against her eyes, Rowan held on to the knowledge that what she was doing was for the girls’ protection. “I’m hoping it’ll be for only a few weeks. Then…we’ll see.” He wouldn’t want to keep her around then anyway.
Grey released her arms, his falling limply to his sides. “So…you’re not leaving forever. Only for a few weeks to help out Delilah.”
If he’d accept that story, then… “Yes.”
He huffed out a laugh, running his hand through his hair. “Sorry about that. I thought you meant—”
She shook her head, hiding her misery. “My fault. I wasn’t clear.”
He bent and retrieved his shirt, pulling it over his head. “When do you leave?”
Rowan swallowed. “In the morning. Early, since I have to drive. My…er…backup should arrive in a few days.”
Breath punching from him, he reached for her, tugging her into his arms to rest his chin on top of her head. Releasing her own pent-up breath, she relaxed into him, soaking in his solid presence, the mark on her arm warming in a comforting way, like a cozy cup of tea by the fire. Only it couldn’t last. When he found out…
Grey’s deep tones rumbled under her cheek. “I would suggest we spend the rest of the night making love, but if you’re driving, you should sleep.”
Disappointment wanted to drown out her common sense. That voice of reason growing more and more faint under the cacophony of her clamoring needs. “Yeah.”
“Stay with me?”
She screwed up her face. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He held up a hand, oath style. “Just sleep. I swear.”
No way was she denying herself that luxury or the precious memory of sleeping in his arms. “Okay.”
Leaving their clothes on, they lay down, wrapped up in each other.
“Sleep,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
To her utter surprise, she did, absorbing every moment she had in his arms and doing her best not to think about tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-One
The horrid sensation of passing into the realm of the dead was worth it, even with the pit of dread in her stomach. Back in that muted world sooner than she would’ve liked—hell, she could never like coming here—Rowan set herself up on a constant patrol of the house and grounds. For three days and three nights, she’d prowled, waiting for any sign her efforts to divert the trouble headed this way had failed.
The good news about being a ghost was she needed no sleep. No food. Tanya had never quite explained what happened to her physical body while she went all haunted. She’d be exhausted when she came out of it again, that much was clear. With each passing day, her form on this plane got lighter, less attached to her physical body if she had to hazard a guess. She could wait only one more day before pulling out of this spell.
“You’re here to help my grandson?”
The voice, barely above a harsh whisper in the silence that reigned in this place, still had Rowan spinning around in search of the source. Her movement too quick, it took her hovering, translucent form a moment to catch up, swirling through the air in the strangest of ways.
The pale version of an old woman stood in the corner of the family room, close to the fireplace.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Esther Masters, Greyson’s grandmother on his father’s side. You may call me Essie. You don’t have to tell me who you are, Rowan McAuliffe. I know everything. The girls told me.”
The girls?
Realization hit with the subtleness of a cleaver to the head. “They’re talking to you when they go into that trance?”
Essie shrugged. “Me. Other spirits who come to settle some things.”
Mediums? The girls spoke to spirits. Delilah’s