CHAPTER 10
Rafe didn’t know whether to feel impressed or a bit occupationally threatened by the depth and quality of Devony’s work.
It had been more than a couple of hours since she showed him her private war room. With each passing minute he had only become more fascinated with what he saw. Not only the notes and photographs and handwritten theories she had shared with him, but with the woman herself.
Especially her.
“Ah. Here it is,” she said, pulling a photograph out of a file folder stuffed with other images and documents. “This is the one I wanted to show you. I took it during a party on LaSalle’s yacht a couple of weeks ago.”
Rafe sat on the floor of the large study with her, surrounded by other piles of intelligence Devony had amassed in the handful of months since she set out on her quest to avenge her family by bringing down Opus Nostrum. It would take him days to study it all. Maybe a lot longer than that, if he allowed himself to be continually distracted by the incredible woman responsible for putting it together.
She had gone upstairs a while ago and changed clothes, trading her museum heist attire for a loose, gray V-neck sweater and black yoga pants. Her long brown hair was twisted haphazardly into a knot on top of her head. A few escaped tendrils curled at her nape, repeatedly drawing his eye to the delicatedermaglyphsthat tracked onto her shoulders and neck.
He couldn’t keep from imagining what the rest of her Breed skin markings might look like beneath her clothes. Rafe could barely stifle the urge to reach out and trace the intricate swirls and arches of herglyphswith his fingers . . . or with his mouth.
As a daywalker female, she would also have the Breedmate mark somewhere on her luscious body. Against his will, he imagined slowly peeling away the soft knit top and pants until he uncovered the tiny scarlet birthmark’s hiding place.
Fuck.
Kissing her for a second time was just about the worst thing he could have done, because now all he could think about was doing it again. The way he’d felt after the first time should have been warning enough. All he’d done now was pour gasoline on the fire.
Devony wouldn’t need to ash him for overstepping his bounds. He was burning up just fine on his own.
He had used the spare moments while she was changing clothes to send a message to the Order, alerting them to corral Nathan until Rafe had a chance to report in and explain the situation. He wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to explain Devony Winters to his commanders.
But that was a problem he would have to deal with later.
Right now, it was all he could do to deal with the more immediate problem—namely, his intense, inconvenient attraction to her and his want to know more about her. He wanted to know everything, and not just because his mission could benefit from it.
Handing the printed photograph to him, she leaned against his shoulder and looked at the image along with him.
“It’s too blurry to make everyone out,” she said, apparently unaware of the effect her nearness was having on him. “It was the best I could manage without getting caught taking it.”
Steeling himself to the warmth of her body, he scanned the snapshot of dozens of well-dressed, obviously wealthy people who had gathered in the salon of LaSalle’s enormous boat.
When he spoke, his voice sounded rusty and thick. “Do you have the digital file too?”
“Of course.”
“Good. I’d like a copy, if that’s all right. I’m sure I can find a way to enhance the quality.”
By “find a way,” he meant to turn the image over to Gideon in D.C.
The Order would be interested in all of her gathered intel, although he doubted she would surrender it easily. And attempting to persuade her would be a problem all its own since he wasn’t authorized to divulge the fact that he was still working for Lucan Thorne.
She had brought him into her personal crusade, primarily because he left her no other choice. But he was still in play as a solo operative. Seeing her private war room didn’t change the parameters of his mission. Neither had kissing her.
Guilt rode him when he recalled her confusion over the reason for his ejection from the Order. She’d been more than confused.
She’d been outraged and defensive . . . for him.
“Do you think I’m crazy to be doing this, Rafe?”
“Crazy?” He scoffed lightly and shook his head. “I think you’re amazing.”
He couldn’t help but marvel over the fact that until a few months ago, she had simply been living as a civilian—a music student studying away from home, for crissake. Now, no one could argue that she was a formidable operative.
She had pulled together an array of intelligence that exceeded even what the Order had collected thus far on Cruz and his associates. Hell, she had put Judah LaSalle in her sights weeks ago when Rafe and his comrades had only heard his name for the first time the other night.
