Page 80 of Fallen Court

Lach swiped the ambrosia from the ground and passed it to me. “You are allowed to go back down there, you know.”

“Without you?” Still, it was tempting—if only for the food and the bathtubs. I took a swig straight from the bottle as another problem occurred to me. “Maybe it’s not a good idea. What if the Hunt held me for ransom to get to you?”

“They don’t work like that. They operate on a code of honor.”

But he didn’t sound certain.

“How did it go with Romy’s sister?” he asked.

“She wants me to commune with my dead foster mom on Sow-something.” I’d forgotten what she’d called it, half from ignorance, half from the muddying effects ambrosia had on the tongue.

“Samhain,” he offered. “So, it sounds like you had a good day, too.” He shucked his suit jacket off and tossed it on a stool nearby. His holster followed with a thump.

“It’s getting better every minute,” I said as he loosened his tie. The way my blood warmed as he undid the first button of his shirt had nothing to do with the hot water. “How was yours?”

“We talked to the coven of the witch we found dead. We were trying to get information about Thalia without letting them know we found her body.”

I blinked. “Why?”

“The more we know before the news gets out, the less panic there will be.”

And the less chance the covens would revolt.

He shrugged out of the black Oxford, his grimace the closest thing he gave me to an answer. Which was fine by me now that his smooth, muscled chest was on display. My eyes tracked downward over the dips and ridges of his abdomen and paused as he reached to unfasten his pants. His fingers stilled on the button. “My eyes are up here, princess.”

“Shhh,” I hushed him, pressing a finger to my lips. “This is the best part.”

His low, rasping laugh slid under my skin and into my bones. Magic had decided this man was meant for me—who was I to argue? He stepped out of his pants, giving me a view of the V-shaped groove that continued like a sign.

This way down.

“Enjoy the ride,” I murmured. Maybe the ambrosia was starting to kick in.

“I suppose that means you don’t mind if I join you.” His smirk oozed a masculine arrogance that was well-earned. He took the bottle out of my hands, setting it on the ground before turning toward the tub.

“I don’t think it’s big—”

But Lach was already climbing in with me. “It’s big enough.”

I scooted over, giggling as water sloshed over the side. Not quite enough room for two people to lounge, but plenty if they didn’t mind being close. Lach reached for me, drawing me onto his lap.

I settled into his arms, the final stubborn remnants of tension melting away.

“Do I want to know what you found out?” I asked.

“Not much.” He traced idle circles on my stomach, his finger drifting upward to brush the undersides of my breasts. “We talked to a few members of her coven. They said that everyone liked her. That they were worried about her.”

Frowning, I craned my neck to study his weary face. “So, it was just a random act of violence?”

“Part of me wishes it were, but it can’t be,” he said grimly as he filled me in on details he’d left out last night.

“Jesus,” I breathed when he was done.

“I didn’t want to give you nightmares.” Lach pressed a kiss to my neck, resting his chin on my shoulder.

“I worked in a hospital,” I reminded him. “I’ve seen worse.” But nothing this close to home. I hooked my arm around his shoulder, brushing the memento mori on his neck. “Do you think it’s a warning?”

“What else could it be?” he asked distantly. “Thalia proposed the bona fides—carving the Wild Hunt’s mark on her neck sends a pretty clear message.”