“Look,” Military Man said, after a few light breathing exercises. “I’ve tried being nice. I’ve made you an offer. So how about you get serious, orI’llget seri—”
CRASH!!
As glass flew everywhere and Maisie flung herself to the floor, she idly wondered whether it was possible for her to go more than forty-eight hours withoutsomethingexploding at her.
Apparently not,she decided, feeling oddly calm. Apparently this kind of thing was just her life now, and she’d decided to embrace it.
Especially because she had a feeling that this explosion was a beneficial explosion.
Sure enough, as the dust settled and she peered up over the edge of the table, she saw what a part of her deep down in her soul had known she would see: Rhys, in the last stages of his transformation from griffin to human, straightening up and shaking out the glass in his hair with an absolutely murderous expression on his face.
Rhys,she thought, her heart soaring.I knew you’d come.
His hand shot out and grabbed Military Man by the throat, squeezing tight. Even though the guy had the enormous neck of a life-long rugby player, Rhys’s fingers dug in until he struggled for breath, his feet dangling as Rhys lifted him single-handedly off the floor.
Rhys’s eyes blazed as he squeezed tighter. “Let. My. Mate.Go.”
“Rhys,” said Maisie clearly, straightening up. “It’s okay. Put him down.”
“Put him down?” Rhys said, still staring the gasping Military Man in the eyes. “Maybe once he lets you out of here.” But he relented, loosening his grip – and then suddenly, Military Man disappeared entirely.
Maisie blinked. Where had he gone?
It took her a long moment to realize that, of course, Military Man –I really need to find out what his name is!– would be a shifter as well, and apparently he had taken the opportunity to escape. But what did he turn into?
She looked down, eyes scanning the floor… but, nothing. Bewildered, she looked up at Rhys, who looked almost as confused as she felt. “Where did he go?”
“I can sense that he’s still here,” Rhys said. But he wasn’t looking for him – he was looking directly at Maisie, the protectiveness in his gaze so intense that she shivered.
“I’m okay,” she said, running around the table and throwing herself into his warm arms. “They didn’t do anything to me. That guy just asked me some questions that I had no idea about and made me a cup of tea. He even gave me a Scotch Finger.”
Rhys huffed a laugh, his arms tightening around her. “What, not even a Monte Carlo? Cheapskate.”
Maisie laughed back. “I know, right? The economy is in shambles if a secret agent can’t even afford the good stuff.”
“Times are tough for everyone, I guess,” Rhys mused, still holding her tight. After a moment he pulled back from her reluctantly, looking her in the eye as if to check that she was truly okay.
“I’m fine,” she said truthfully. “It was almost fun. Almost.”
Rhys shook his head a little, smiling. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“More fun than bursting through a glass window, anyway,” she said. “Do you shifters even know how to enter a room normally?”
“Are you sure you want to talk like that to the guy who can get these cuffs off you?” Rhys said playfully, mock-stern. “Because I can just leave them on you, if you like.”
Warmth ran through Maisie’s belly. “… Maybe some other time,” she murmured, gazing up at him. “But probably I shouldn’t be running around town with a pair of handcuffs on.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Rhys said, his gaze heated – and he reached down, cradling her hands gently for a moment, before he snapped the chain clean in two.
Okay. Wow.
A sudden movement caught her eye, and she looked up – to see a spider on the ceiling. She startled, still a bit jumpy, before relaxing.
“What is it?” Rhys asked, concerned.
“Oh, nothing,” she said. “I saw a spider and I was worried for a moment, but it’s just a daddy longlegs. I guess they really do have a lot more bugs up here.”
Rhys turned around to look, craning his neck – and then pushed Maisie across the table, following close after, as the spider dropped from the ceiling and turned into an enormous, hulking, very pissed-off man with a flat-top haircut.
