“Yes,” Mercy whispered. “I sense a vibration or energy. Close your eyes and concentrate.”
Grace shut her eyes, and a slight smile curved her lips. “All right. There’s a warmth. An energy that’s…familiar.” Her eyes opened.
Logan suddenly filled the doorway. “I’d like to talk about your declaration of war.”
Grace hopped off the bed. “That’s a cue if I’ve ever heard one.” She kept a wide berth around the demon, disappearing quickly.
Mercy’s body went from relaxed to full-on aware. “You’re the one declaring war,” she said softly.
He stepped fully inside and shut the door. “I’m trying to work with you and your people.”
He didn’t believe her about the ritual. She’d had one job to complete, and she’d failed. What use was she to the Fae now? Her shoulders slumped. “You’re not listening,” she muttered.
“I’m listening but not agreeing.” He overwhelmed the space in the quaint bedroom, a wave of tension rolling off him. “The conclusion our research and experts have reached is different from yours. It’s that simple.” His gaze traveled beyond her to the big bed, his lips slightly parted.
Her nerves perked up. “I’ve been of no use here.”
His gaze warmed. “Baby, you are of incredible use just being you.”
Well. That was sweet. She tried not to warm all over, but it happened anyway.
His head lifted. “You matter, Mercy. It’s you. Not deeds.”
How did he see so much? Even though his words reassured her, an odd vulnerability washed through her. She shifted her weight on the bed. A bed. A big bed. Did he want to sleep with her again? Heat poured into her face, and she ducked her chin, hoping her hair covered the blush.
“Where did Niall take the Viking?” Logan asked quietly.
Wonderful. She was thinking about the bed and his spectacular body, and he wanted to talk business. Irritation clamped down on her, giving her a reprieve from thoughts of his last kiss. “I really don’t know.”
“Look at me, Mercy.” His tone was all command.
She looked up, unable to stop herself. “What?”
“Would Niall have killed Ivar?” A vein visibly ticked in Logan’s thick neck.
She blinked. Niall had teleported Ivar right out of the room. And she knew taking out Ivar and Adare was part of his plan. “It’s possible Niall left him somewhere dangerous. But Ivar is strong,” she hastened to add. Then she shrugged. “I’ve never been to a bad place, Logan. I’m not a scout or a soldier. My usefulness to the Fae lies elsewhere.”
His frown lowered both brows. “Your usefulness?”
She nodded.
“I thought we just shifted your mind-set there,” he sighed. “You being you is enough. Say it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’m enough.” Yet as she said the words, they hit her hard in the heart. Tears welled, and she ignored them. “All right. I’m useful just being me.”
He grinned. “Good. Glad we dealt with that. However, my usefulness is protecting family. So far I’ve lost both Sam and Ivar.”
Her heart hurt for him. “Ah. You defend and protect, right? But there’s more to you than that.” If he got to delve deep, so did she.
He frowned. “Not really.”
“Yes.” Everything inside her wanted to touch him, but she remained in place. “You matter too, Logan. Just you. All of you.” She was revealing too much to him, but she couldn’t stop.
His chest hitched and then settled. “All right.” It was as if he accepted that she saw inside him—he accepted her.
She’d never felt special like this, and she had to help him somehow. Ease his mind. “I can find out where Sam and Ivar are. But first you have to let me go home.” It was the only way she’d be able to get information.
He studied her for a moment.
