“We don’t know for certain it’s her. Just that someone close to you has been passing information.” Marcus’s face went serious. “But the timing fits. The moonbell flowers, the council knowing your movements?—”
“She’s been my client for fifteen years. Her granddaughter is like family to me.” Hazel stared at her plate.
Marcus took her hand. “We’ll find out the truth. And when we do, we’ll make sure whoever’s responsible pays for it.”
“At the trial?”
“At the trial. If we can show the court that the Shadow Council was working with the Blackwoods, it’s not just Viktor who goes down. It’s the entire conspiracy.”
Hazel leaned into him. “Is that even possible? To expand the case like that?”
“Supernatural court operates differently than human courts. If we can prove a coordinated effort to obstruct justice, the judge has broad discretion to pursue all parties involved.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “But right now, I don’t want to think about the trial.”
“Seven days,” Hazel said.
“Seven days.” He pulled her against his chest. “And right now, all I care about is today.”
Outside, the October sun did its thing. Hazel stole another piece of toast off his plate and didn’t think about the calendar.
16
Sunlight had been workingits way across the bed for an hour, and Marcus had not moved an inch.
He’d been awake long enough to count the freckles on Hazel’s shoulder, long enough to memorise the rhythm of her breathing, long enough that any other morning of his three centuries he’d already have catalogued exits, scanned the perimeter, made tea. He did none of those things. He held her closer instead.
“Good morning,” she murmured against his skin.
“Very good,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to her hair.
They stayed in bed another twenty minutes, trading lazy kisses. Marcus traced the freckles on her shoulder. Hazel ran her fingers through his chest hair, occasionally tugging to hear him growl.
“We should get up,” she said eventually, making no move to do so.
“Should is a terrible word.” He captured her hand and brought it to his lips. “Though Ineedto mention that your stomach has been growling for the past five minutes.”
Her stomach rumbled loudly. Hazel laughed, burying her face in his neck. “Traitor,” she told her midsection.
They extracted themselves from bed reluctantly.
Marcus scrambled eggs without burning them. They ate breakfast standing at the counter, hips pressed together. The trial loomed six days away, but neither mentioned it.
They settled into their routine. Marcus spread case files on the table while Hazel curled up in the window chair with a grimoire.
“Listen to this,” she said, grinning. “’To banish a persistent suitor, combine rosemary with…’ Oh, that’s disgusting. Never mind.”
“Now I’m curious.”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know.” She turned a page. “Oh, ‘For lawyers who overstay their welcome.’ Hey!”
Marcus plucked the grimoire from her hands. “Rude. I’m excellent company.”
“You’re adequate company.”
“Harsh.” He held the book higher.
“You’re the best company I’ve ever had, and I never want you to leave. Happy?”
Marcus lowered the book. “Yes,” he said.
