Corrigan Fire Bloodfire - Helen Harper Page 0,60

being targeted for attack must mean that we have something that the blue woman wants. This is the only place that I can think of that is locked and where there might be something that John would have hidden away. If we can find it, then we might have a better chance of understanding what is happening and stopping it.’

‘An interesting conclusion, Kitten.’ I wondered whether I should tell her that we’d discovered that the blue woman, as she’d described her, was actually a demi-goddess. It might make her more circumspect in her actions. Right now, however, I was more curious as to her reasons for breaking into the desk alone. I may have been well aware of the existence of this drawer – and I should have made sure the mage opened it before now – but her surreptitious bid to force it open stirred my curiosity. ‘And why didn’t you think to mention this drawer to me before?’

‘First of all,’ Mack tossed her hair and started ticking off her fingers, ‘I couldn’t find you. And I was pretty sure that you’d have your hands full dealing with the death rites. Second of all, if I’m wrong and there’s nothing in here apart from a couple of shifter girlie mags, then I’d look pretty stupid. And thirdly, you’ve already made it pretty clear that you don’t trust me. For all I know, you’d try to suggest that I planted whatever was in there myself.’

‘I see. I must beg to differ on one point, however.’

I waited for her to ask what that point was. There was something bizarrely enjoyable about watching her growing frustration. Eventually she could stand the suspense no longer.

‘And what would that be?’

I grinned. At least in some things she was predictable. ‘I think you’ll find, Kitten, that I do trust you.’ She looked sceptical at that. I didn’t particularly blame her. After all, I had on occasion thought she may have had something to do with the terrible events here. I wasn’t lying, however. I gave her a pointed look and continued. ‘And despite the fact that you’re the most annoying, unpredictable and difficult-to-control shifter I’ve ever come across, you do appear to have useful skills. I’m not sure I trust you enough to stay here in the countryside on your own before you manage to cause complete devastation. But I think that you’ve proven yourself enough for me to tell you that my offer to join me in London still stands.’ I leaned back, folding my arms and watching her reaction. I’d not mentioned the Brethren. If she didn’t want to join those ranks then that was fine. But I still wanted her to be where I could keep a close eye on her. She was just too damn infuriating to leave here in this quiet corner of England.

Mack looked slightly afraid. ‘Even though I might have deliberately engineered falling into a faerie ring so that I could be absent when the keep was attacked?’

‘Mmm, you’re going to have to tell me one day how you really did escape from that.’ Maybe one lazy Sunday morning over breakfast in bed.

‘I honestly have no idea, my Lord. Perhaps it was just an old ring and didn’t have much power left.’

She was telling the truth. I supposed it could have been an ancient and, as a result, weakened faerie ring that had entrapped her. ‘Yes, perhaps, Kitten, perhaps.’ I stretched out, linking my hands behind my head. When Mack’s eyes drifted to the bare skin suddenly exposed around my upper arms, I found it hard not to smile more broadly. Apparently she wasn’t immune to my charms after all.

‘Will you stop fucking calling me that?’ There was an audible hue of fury to her words. I was sure she was more angry at herself for being caught checking me out than anything I might have said, however.

‘What?’ I asked, goading her. I shouldn’t have done it but there was a part of me that couldn’t help it. The angrier she got, the more the yellow flecks in her eyes were enhanced. It gave her a particularly alluring edge. Not that she didn’t have that in spades already as it was, despite her prickly nature.

‘I am not a cat,’ she hissed. Like a cat. ‘I am a hamster. And my name is Mack, not Kitten.’

‘Well then, maybe I should just call you Hammy instead.’ I licked my lips.

‘Well then, maybe I’ll call you Pants,’ she snapped.

I laughed, about