“You could say that,” Blair said, crossing to the brandy. He lifted a glass in offering.
Take it, Miranda is a road to misery and pain. She does not wantyou, only what you can give her.
Devin stared at the offered glass, hands at his sides.
You’re already miserable, what does it hurt to try?
Devin declined. Relief and terror flooding him as the offer rescinded.
“Suit yourself.” Blair tossed back a glass and then fell into his chair and balanced the empty tumbler on his forehead.
He’d declined a drink. With Blair’s aura slapping him in the face with its obnoxious glare. Why on earth would he do that?
“So—” Blair started.
Miranda’s small knock interrupted, drawing Devin’s attention and the sight of her eased the flood of doubt.
Her. It was all her.
Blair fumbled to catch the glass as he sat upright. A strong, crimson pulse of desire flared through his aura. His drawn, overtired frown vanished instantly, replaced by the charming grin he threw at every pleasing skirt in his vicinity. Gideon smoothed some wayward strands of his hair, charm exuding from him as he went to meet Miranda at the door.
He took her hand in his, kissing it gently. “You must be Miss Wilde.”
And Devin’s fury was immediate, focused, and drowned out everything else.
Chapter Ten
Mirandaracedtogetdressed. She searched for her chemise, dismayed when she noticed that it had been torn and stretched to the point of ruin. She groaned, but she knew well enough how to dispose of evidence, and she had plenty of others. For now, she had to make do. She hopped around stuffing her limbs back into her uniform and trying to undo the tangled mess Devin’s hands had left in the laces of her boots.
Color heated her cheeks and warmth fluttered in her belly. She would happily relive every moment again later, when she had the time. Or maybe she could orchestrate another moment? And another. Her pulse raced as she calculated all the ways she might seek him out unnoticed. She could go to his apartment in secret and—
Guilt crushed her excitement. She hadn’t even asked if his apartment survived. And even if it had, he might be too busy salvaging his livelihood to indulge in clandestine meetings. At least he hadn’t pushed her away this time, though he had beenuncharacteristically quiet. She would ask him about that later, for now she had to focus on why she was here in the first place.
Adjusted, composed, hair hastily thrown into a…whatever her awkward fingers could manage—if she could use a blade to style her hair, then she’d be proficient, but she rarely dealt with the thick waves on her own. Using whatever she could find in the storeroom to wash the sex from her body so she could be somewhat presentable when she talked with the Captain of the Watchmen.
Miranda eased the door open. While, logically, she knew that Devin had slipped away several minutes ahead of her and was unlikely to have drawn notice, it still felt like a spotlight followed her every move, screaming to the overfilled headquarters that she had debauched herself. And every lesson of etiquette and decorum drilled into her said she should feel very ashamed, ruined beyond redemption. Yet, her steps had never been lighter, almost a saunter, and a wicked grin alighted her features.
Perhaps, she was always meant to be a fallen woman. Scorned and outcast from the society she was expected to serve. And if she’d known how damned good it felt, she may not have resisted it so much. Before, she had been too afraid to take any bold step away from the future she dreaded. It had always felt an inevitable certainty. Yet…maybe it wasn’t. Maybe all she had to do was choose to follow her heart. It might devastate her parents, they might be pressured to cut communication with her if anyone found out about this indiscretion. Would she still be able to speak to Cordelia?
Miranda pushed the uncertainty aside as she drew closer to the Captain’s office. Two of the sides were entirely glass with curtains that could be drawn if needed, but allowed him to overlook the officers below. She watched Captain Blair offer Devin some sort of liquid in a clear glass, liquor of some kind.
She huffed. Devin drank too much. While she sensed there was some dark reason, it seemed to her like he was trying to drown himself. She suspected it was the same reason he used to cover his ears.
Devin raised a hand to decline the offer, shocking her. She stopped for a moment. Why did he decline? She had never seen him without some hint of alcohol on his breath, what changed?
Me.
Miranda shook away the thought. It was the height of egoistical to assume she had anything to do with his choice. She continued forward, chewing her lip. But…maybe?
Something formed in her chest, something stronger than lust and desire. She walked a little faster, though she could hardly talk to him when she reached him, not when they weren’t alone, but the Something pushed her faster and she almost didn’t wait to be invited after she knocked on the door.
Her eyes were for Devin, focused on how all the doubt she’d been trying to bury evaporated, and so when Captain Blair swooped in to greet her, she nearly jumped.
“You must be Miss Wilde,” he said, voice deep and soothing, “Rachel mentioned you stopped by last night but neglected to mention your beauty.” She watched him with uncertainty as he took her hand to kiss it, which was technically the proper way to introduce himself, though he had missed a few steps that hinted he was not as practiced or had picked it up late in life, rather than born to those standards.
He was handsome, his athletic build perfectly displayed by the fit of his uniform. Black hair trim and neat. His smile would have had many a debutante blushing and giggling, crawling over each other to be on the receiving end of that smile, but the over-the-top flattery and performance had her choking back a laugh. “Captain Gideon Blair, at your service.”
Captain Blair had barely straightened when a hand descended on his shoulder and ripped him backward.
