"Mal, your team is quite competent."
"Yes, of course but you and your undercover division run in different crowds. Work the Gala this year. Run the perimeter, the entry, the crowd. I want no distractions when I perform."
He chuckled, folding his massive arms. "Done. My team will cover the walls so you can light up the sky. Consider it handled." Toren pushed to his feet and stretched. "I'll keep an ear to the ground in case anyone's dumb enough to start circling."
"Try not to scare them too badly," I muttered.
He grinned, tusks flashing. "No promises."
When the door closed behind him, silence filled the study again. Except for the steady tug of the connection, sharpening with every breath.
Another wave of fury pulsed. Stronger this time. She was getting closer.
The doorbell rang.
7
CHARLIE
Istood at the massive front door of Ashcliff Manor, with my laptop bag slung over my shoulder, a box of client files under one arm, and Sinnamon's leash in my hand. My portable printer was balanced precariously on top of a stack of planning binders, and I was pretty sure I'd forgotten something important in my car.
Malrik, who had opened the door looking far too pleased to see me, was now staring at my armload of supplies with what might have been amusement.
"Moving in?" he asked.
"Working from here temporarily," I corrected, shifting the box to a more secure grip. "My office equipment has developed an unfortunate tendency to malfunction when I get emotional. Since you seem to be the cause of most of my recent... fluctuations... and this power issue is your responsibility to fix, I have no choice but to set up temporary headquarters here until you sort it out."
"I see. And the alternative was?"
"Explaining to my insurance company why I've destroyed three printers, two coffee makers, and a very expensive scanner in the past few days." I pushed past him into the entrance hall. "Trust me, this is the practical solution."
Sinnamon trotted in behind me, tail wagging as he made himself at home.
Malrik looked down at the hellhound. "I was wondering where he was."
"Evidently he's mine now," I said.
"Traitor," Malrik muttered to Sinnamon, who merely huffed in response.
Now Malrik was definitely amused. "Where would you like to establish your... headquarters?" He said and smiled. "I think the study will be perfect."
"Your study, with you?"
"It's the most practical location," he said. "Excellent lighting, comfortable seating, and I can ensure you won't be disturbed."
I could see his point, but working in the same room as him seemed like asking for trouble. "What about the library? Or that sitting room with the windows?"
"The library's books have a tendency to offer unsolicited advice. And the sitting room's furniture occasionally rearranges itself. I don't advise it."
I stared at him. "Your furniture moves around?"
"Everything in Ashcliff moves in some way or another."
"Fine. The study it is." I headed toward the room, then paused. "But I need this to be a real workspace, Malrik. I have three other events to coordinate while we plan Scorched, and I can't afford any interference."
"Of course. I'll ensure you have complete privacy and?—"
"And no hovering," I added firmly. "I know this is your house, but when I'm working, I need space to concentrate."
