“There’s a person in need of immediate care,” Devin called back to Captain Blair, “They’re caged in the far corner. Not sure how long they have.”
Captain Blair adjusted his orders accordingly and Miranda and Devin retreated out into the waning daylight, the sky exploding in purples and oranges. There was notable chaos in the street. Watchmen fenced off the area, keeping the crowd at bay. Miss Stone directed officers, giving Devin and her a solemn nod when she noticed the pair of them. She didn’t smile, but it was clear in how her eyes softened that she was grateful they made it.
Miranda found her mother and father wrapped around Cordelia, who stared past their shoulders with pleading ‘help me’ eyes. Miranda and Devin drew closer and he began to release her hand, but she squeezed his all the harder.
“Miri, thank the Divine. They haven’t let me breathe for ten minutes.”
“I almost lost you,” their mother cooed, “For the last twelve hours I didn’t know if you were alive or dead. You can hold your breath for a few more minutes.”
Cordelia’s gaze darted to Devin then away and she pursed her lips, but didn’t argue further.
Miranda watched her family and it was starting to settle in her chest that her mission was over. Cordelia was safe. Graves, while maybe not captured, had been exposed and soon would lose all his power and influence. And, maybe this whole whirlwind of an adventure had only started a week ago, but Miranda felt irrevocably altered.
If there was anything to say to her family, it could wait. They had time. Right now, Miranda only wanted one thing.
But not here.
She pulled Devin away before her parents noticed or tried to stop her. He didn’t resist. One look at his face and she knew shecould have guided him off the edge of the pier and he wouldn’t have uttered a word of protest.
Maybe this is what marriage felt like, knowing that someone would do anything for you, trusting them. Seeing your truest self reflected in their eyes. If Miranda could have that, maybe she could figure out the rest later. Or maybe it didn’t matter as much. Because being loved for all the abrasive, hidden parts of herself was its own kind of freedom.
And, regardless, they had precious little time before she tore through his clothes in the middle of the street. One problem at a time.
Chapter Fourteen
MirandadraggedDevinintothe carriage behind her, his hand fumbling for the door. It was either seconds or minutes later when Miranda tore her mouth free, distantly aware of someone else speaking from outside. “Did you give the cab an address?”
Undeterred, Devin drew his lips down her jaw, her neck. The texture of his stubble scraped her skin, instantly soothed by his tongue. He was practically on top of her, their bodies entwined in a seamless blend of limbs. She had underestimated how satisfying it was just to feel the weight of him on top of her, all warmth and pressure.
“I suppose a carriageisless than ideal.” His teeth caught the pulse point at her neck and bit down enough to spear straight to the hungry flutter between her legs.
Miranda sucked in a breath through her teeth and arched her body reflexively. His self-satisfied smirk was infuriating and, yet, her limbs were molten.
“Though,” he continued, tone filled with triumph, “I could make due anywhere with the right motivation.” His palm teased across her breast, but through the tight leather of her uniform it did little more than drive her insane.
“Er, you got a destination in mind, sir?” The driver called. Again. They had ignored him the first two times.
Devin sighed. He shouted his address in the Garrison and Miranda set a hand on his chest to keep him from muddling her senses for a moment.
“I never asked,” she started, savoring her own small victory when his frown at being denied deepened to a pout. “How bad was your club damaged? Can you still live there? I know how important it was.”
His eyes were still dark as he considered her question. Though he hovered at arm’s length, the pressure on her palm indicated that, should she give him the slightest quarter, he’d pounce.Hishands, however, were unrestrained.
“I’d prefer to talk about this,” he plucked the first hook of her uniform free and the shock of it made her elbow bend, his body seizing on her weakness and pinning her arm between them. He hovered dangerously close to her throat. “For example, I can’t quite recall if you preferred here.” He kissed her neck, his head forcing hers to turn and bend, exposing herself to the attack. “Or here.” He moved down, lips suckling on the skin above her collar bone, effectively coaxing out a long, throaty moan. “Ah, yes, I believe I remember now.”
He worked reverently over the sensitive skin, not overpowering her, but lulling her into a blissful stupor. It wouldn’t work to distract her.
He hummed against her skin, a gentle rumble that burst through her like a shockwave.
It was starting to work.
“Gods, Devin.” Her hands came up, threading into his hair. His smile was all victory. But, somewhere in the back of Miranda’s dazed thoughts, she knew there was something they needed to do first. Something important before she got swept up in his irresistible magnetism and she never recovered. And it was with great effort that she forced him backward.
His eyes were closed as he allowed her to maneuver him. At that angle and position, it would have been easy to use his weight and strength to keep her pinned. Instead, he caved to the barest pressure, and a little, tiny part of her clicked into place with a certainty she hadn’t realized she needed until this moment. She trusted him. Unequivocally.
“I know we need to talk, Mira,” he said, voice gruff with desire and something else. Pain? He started massaging her lower back, where his hand had been anchored to angle her hips just moments ago. “I want to, Iplanto, but…”
“But, what?” she prompted, tracing her fingers down his cheek, until her touch hovered just next to his ear.
