Page 55 of Want Me, Take Me, Haunt Me, Make Me

Nonetheless, he couldn’t help noticing the way Hazel’s position thrust her breasts forward, pressing them against the thin fabric of her blouse. He ignored his stirring cock and deliberately kept his eyes on her face, but that was all the restraint he could manage.

Hazel’s eyes darkened, and Ligat suspected she knew where his mind had gone. No unearthly powers needed there. He felt about as obvious as the average schoolboy. The lady didn’t seem to take offense, though. She sat up and turned toward him, casual and conversational on the surface of it, but she didn’t speak at first—she parted her lips as though she was going to, but then just traced her tongue slowly across the lower one.

Ligat nearly groaned aloud.

The air between them filled with impending energy, as though a thunderstorm were about to break. Hazel leaned forward—

—and then stopped herself. Awareness flashed across her face, followed by exasperation. “No. No, I’mnotgoing to start using sex as a coping mechanism.” She let out a long, deliberate breath, then gave Ligat a wry smile. “Sorry.”

“Quite all right,” he said, achingly hard but being a gentleman, dammit. “Although I am glad to be of service, if you change your mind.”

That seemed to catch Hazel off guard. She peered at Ligat for asecond, a concentration that was more curiosity than thwarted lust, and then shook herself just as he was preparing to field uncomfortable questions. “I’ll put you in my contacts. UnderIncredibly Bad Idea.”

“I’ve been called much worse.”

“I bet. Although,” she said, and again he felt the close assessment of a woman used to evaluating strange situations, “and this does not in any way mean I’m in your debt, I think I have to thank you.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” he said, with as much of a mocking bow as he could manage while seated. “Well. Notall.”

She snickered. “No. But not just for the sex. Your friend Chapman was here earlier.”

* * *

Ligat’s eyes flamed. The gloved hand that had been resting on his knee closed into a fist, leather flexing against the force of it. He spoke with nearly perfect calm, though, just an edge that could have outdone any Ginsu knife. “Washe?”

“Mm-hmm.” She was too old to believe that he was getting angry out of any real concern for her, even as his burning gaze traveled up and down the length of her body, and she knew he was looking for injuries. Chapman had gone behind Ligat’s master’s back. This was a territory issue. Ligat’s reaction still made her feel embarrassingly warm. “I didn’tthinkhe was on official business.”

“If so, P—”

Hazel didn’t think Ligat stopped himself, not entirely. He didn’t close his mouth on the word. It just stopped, and his lips actually moved for a second longer, like he was an extra in a kaiju movie. She just barely caught a disappointed look before he moved on.

“If so,” he repeated, “my master didn’t see fit to tell me about it. He hurt you?”

He was staring at Hazel’s bruised knuckles, and that edge in his voice would have been great on a scalpel. Hazel flexed her fingersinstead of shivering. “Indirectly. I can criticize him for a lot, but I don’t think having a hard jaw is his fault.”

Ligat allowed himself a smile. “I should have guessed.”

“Just to check, I’m not—” It was her turn to stop, though it was of her own will, becausedealing with the Gospel According to Romerowasn’t a helpful way to frame the question with Ligat. “His…condition isn’t contagious, is it?”

He blinked at her. Up close, she noticed that he had dark eyelashes, more spiky than a normal person’s would have been. “I can’t imagine why it would be.”

“That’s reasonably reassuring.”

“I endeavor to give satisfaction.”Satisfactionwas a perfectly innocent word and shouldn’t have called up memories that made Hazel want to squeeze her thighs together, and a more disciplined person wouldn’t have had to remind herself of that. “What happened?”

She told him, as briefly as she could without leaving out important details, and Ligat listened with almost no visible reaction. “So,” she wound up, “if you hadn’t warned me about Chapman’s goals, I’d probably be having a worse day now.”

“You’d have taken his advice?” Ligat asked, as little feeling in his voice as he’d shown on his face.

“I can’t say for sure. Death’s a big step, even for a good cause, and I’d like to say I’d have been innately skeptical of whatever the walking corpse of a serial killer told me. On the other hand, I’dalsolike to think I’d have been willing to sacrifice myself to keep a rift from opening.” Hazel ran a hand through her hair, then rubbed the back of her neck. “I’d have been more shaken up, I do know that.”

“Reasonably. I’m surprised—well, no, I’m not,” he said, with another of his reluctant smiles. “But anybody else would be, even knowing Chapman’s real aim.”

“Most people, maybe. Most people don’t even know the ethereal exists. I have enough experience to cope, sort of.” She made a face. “And no idea what I was thinking mouthing off to him like that atthe beginning—I’ve always been able to stick to diplomacy before.”

“You’ve usually met the dead on your own ground before,” said Ligat quietly. “Haven’t you?”

Hazel thought it over while Casper curled up at their feet and magpies called out in the forest. “I’ve usually gone to sites,” she said, “but…yeah, I’ve chosen to go, I’ve known what I was getting into, and it’s been on my own schedule as much as the times of the hauntings allow.”