muttered, his black eyebrows pinching hard. “I met with him close to five days ago.”
Rosalind pulled a thoughtful face, poured herself a cup of tea and added a hefty spoonful of sugar with the smallest dash of milk he had ever seen.
When she caught him staring, she smiled. “I like it sweet and dark, what can I say?”
Her blue gaze slid to her mate.
Vail growled low, one filled with hunger that Hartt could practically feel thickening the air.
It filled him with a need to hurry the witch along because he really didn’t need to get another eyeful of Vail and Rosalind locked in each other’s arms. Not when his mind was still being traitorous, flashing replays of Mackenzie and rousing a need to find her and see her again.
Kiss her again.
“Is five days too long?” Hartt prompted, eager to leave.
Rosalind shrugged. “Probably not. Depends on how strong the magic is. Is your client a witch?”
“I don’t think so.” But he was starting to suspect that he was and it rang alarm bells in his mind. “We don’t tend to probe into the lives of our clients.”
“Maybe you should.” Rosalind leaned back in her armchair, taking her tea with her, and crossed her legs, flashing a lot of bare skin.
Hartt averted his eyes. Vail snarled anyway.
She flashed her mate a saucy smile and demurely covered her thighs, taking her time about smoothing the black material over them. Drawing another low growl from his prince.
“There’s nothing wrong with running background checks on your clients, you know? I do it all the time.” The witch sipped her tea and sighed as if she had just tasted the sweetest ambrosia in the known world. “That hits the spot.”
“Is this Mackenzie you mentioned an assassin too?” Vail finally managed to drag his gaze away from his mate, although it retained the hungry edge it had gained.
Hartt nodded. “The client hired both of us to take out the King of Death.”
Rosalind came dangerously close to spitting her tea everywhere. “Woah, hold up, what now? Grave is your target?”
“You know him?” Hartt found that difficult to believe, but stranger things had happened. “Did he hire you in the past?”
Rosalind made all kinds of spells and potions for people. It was possible she had crossed paths with the vampire that way.
“No. We ended up fighting on the same side in a demon war. I wouldn’t say we kept in touch, but we’ve bumped into each other a few times since then.” She waved her hand dismissively but then she sobered, her light air falling away as she stared him down. “I was wrong about you. You have to be crazy. Going after Grave… Have you met his mate?”
“I know he’s bound to a phantom.” And when he had learned about it, he had debated whether or not to turn down the contract after all, but then he had decided his plan would involve luring the vampire away from his female and eliminating him before she could intervene.
“He knows, he says so casually… as if the phantom won’t eviscerate him for even looking at her mate funny, let alone laying a finger on him. I’ve met his mate. We’ve met his mate.” She looked at Vail.
Vail frowned and then the dark slashes of his eyebrows rose and he nodded. “Isla. She was with her sister, the First King, when the dragons tried to start a war in the elf kingdom. I recall her being a skilled and fearless fighter. She led the demons of the First Realm well that day.”
That didn’t instil confidence in Hartt. If anything, it only shook the confidence he did have. If Vail had thought the phantom a skilled warrior, then she was far more formidable than Hartt had thought. He was going to have to be extremely careful if he wanted to come out of this contract with his soul still in one piece and his head still on his shoulders.
Rosalind gave Fuery a pointed look. “Surely you have an opinion on this? Your guyfriend is trying to get himself killed. I don’t know why I bothered patching you up. Wait!”
Her eyes widened.
“Was Grave the one who tried to turn you into a shish kebab?”
Hartt had no idea what one of those was, but he presumed it involved being skewered many times over. “No. It was not the vampire.”
“It was the assassin.” Vail’s voice held a calculating note, and his expression did too as Hartt glanced at him. “She is exceptionally skilled?”
“No. Yes.” He