“You didn’t have to do it,” Bronx murmured.
“Yeah, I did.” My eyes fell shut as the memory of his beating rose back to the forefront of my mind. He wouldn’t have been touched if I had protected the house like Reave had ordered. Fuck. Bronx wouldn’t have been in this mess to start with if I had killed Reave two months ago when he first threatened me with exposure.
But I was clinging to the idea that I wasn’t a killer. Warlocks were mindless, empty killers who thought nothing of taking a life. Witches were heartless killers. I chose to leave the Towers. I chose not to be a killer.
Simon’s laughter picked that moment to rattle through my brain like the Ghost of Christmas Past. I had killed Simon, but it had been self-defense. Right? I had to kill Simon or he would have killed me.
“Gage?” Bronx said, jerking me from my thoughts. Silence had stretched between us, but I didn’t know for how long. Had he been talking to me, waiting for my response? I had to let these doubts go. Fuck you, Towers. I wasn’t one of you. And fuck you, Simon Thorn. I hoped you liked your new job as ferryman to the dead.
“I had to heal you,” I said, my voice picking up strength as I returned to our conversation. “It was either leave you to die or carry your fat ass to the car. Do you know how hard it is to find a good tattoo artist to work in our part of town? Not that easy.”
Bronx chuckled. His normally deep voice was even deeper from the pain that lanced through his body. I rose and offered him a hand while bracing my legs to help pull him to his feet. It took a couple tries and we were both puffing heavily when it was over, but Bronx was standing without help. The troll was roughly triple my weight. There wasn’t much I could do if he couldn’t walk to his car on his own.
I waved my hand in the air, dispersing the last of the cloaking spell before bending down to scoop up my jacket. My back protested and my knees were stiff from sitting on the cold floor. I needed to get back to the gym. I had been trading off my usual trips there in order to spend time with Trixie before going into the parlor. Maybe it was time to find a little balance. I was beginning to think that I needed to be in shape if I was going to keep up with Reave and his band of thugs.
“Now what?” Bronx asked around another wince of pain as he hobbled toward the door.
“Home. Shower. Bed,” I listed, keeping pace beside my friend. “We’ll deal with tomorrow when tomorrow comes.”
“Not Trixie’s?”
Trixie’s place felt like some distant dream, an oasis in the wasteland my night had become. I would have given anything to see her and settle in her soft arms, but I shook my head. “Home.”
Trixie didn’t need to see me when I was in this mood. She would have argued otherwise, but our relationship was still too new for me to be dumping the weight of my past into her lap while I grumbled the last of the night away. She would try to help me forget and move on, but the only thing that would help me was sleep. In sleep, there were no memories to haunt you and no doubts to chase you. There was just the cool bliss of nothingness.
4
A SOFT CHIME tinkled through the parlor as the front door opened. At the same time magic prickled lightly across the bare skin of my forearms. Someone had activated the antiglamour spell upon stepping into the shop. The feeling passed, but I picked up my pace as I walked from the back room to the front lobby. I set a worn clipboard on a stack of papers and glanced at the surveillance monitor to see Trixie crossing the lobby. The elf in human disguise smiled at me as she moved around the front counter and stepped into the tattooing room.
To the world, she appeared as a lovely brunette human with soft features that included brown eyes, lush lips, and a heart-shaped face. But I was able to see the real her through the glamour she wore as protection. The sexy elf with acres of blond hair and crisp green eyes still managed to make my dick twitch when I saw her for the first time every day. She had only recently started to tone down some of her outfits now that we were officially dating. Bronx joked that he had told her to cool it or I was going to kill the next man who looked at her, which wasn’t too likely but wasn’t impossible either. I wondered if she had only dressed like that to catch my attention, but shoved the thought aside. My ego wasn’t that big.
Today she wore a somewhat sedate outfit. A black halter top hugged her breasts, revealing the perfect expanse of her back complete with a sparkling butterfly wings tattoo. Her snug jeans rode low on her hips, revealing a narrow strip of her stomach and belly button, which contained her newly acquired belly-button ring. Yet another thing to make my dick twitch. She had exchanged her usual belly-button ring for a red gem that winked in the overhead lighting.
Trixie’s throaty chuckle caused me to jerk my head up while a surprised blush lit my cheeks. She had caught me staring. Fuck, she was lucky that I didn’t have to pull out the mop to clean up the drool. What this woman saw in me I didn’t have a fucking clue. Brown hair, brown eyes, and barely her height when she was in heels, I wasn’t that much to look at. My body wasn’t bad. All lean muscle, the result of frequent trips to the gym, but you wouldn’t know it under the baggy T-shirts and faded jeans I wore. Maybe it was my charming personality. Not. Fucking. Likely.
“Seen enough?” she teased.
I closed the distance between us, wrapping my arms tightly around her so that I could feel every inch of her soft body pressed against mine. Of course, that meant she knew exactly how happy I was to see her, but I didn’t mind. We were still early in our relationship. If we weren’t screwing like rabbits every chance we got, I’d be worried. Her mouth found mine as if drawn to me, her lips already parted. She tasted of strawberries and something sweet and intoxicating that was uniquely her. Her hand drifted down my back, bunching in my T-shirt so that it pulled up my back as she held me close. A soft moan slipped from her throat and I was ready to go. The parlor was empty. The counters could be resterilized.
Someone called my name in an angry and plaintive voice. I jerked my head away from Trixie, breaking the kiss but not releasing her. I heard it again and groaned as my dick throbbed in frustration. We weren’t alone. This time, Trixie blushed as I stepped backward and looked down at the forgotten cat carrier in her hand. She had brought Sofie in to work with her.
“Sorry, Sof,” I muttered, walking to the opposite side of the room in hopes that the distance would get my hard-on to pass. Her only response was a soft growl while Trixie set the carrier on the floor and unzipped the opening. Trixie brought the cat into the shop a few times a week so she had a little variety in her day. Trixie’s apartment was smaller than Sofie’s previous home with an elderly woman named Mae. It also didn’t include a balcony, limiting Sofie’s time outside. I didn’t mind since she spent most of her time lounging on the glass counter or sitting in the front window, watching the people walk by.
“I still can’t believe you let her put you in that thing,” I said as the large Russian Blue jumped from the floor to the tattooing chair at Trixie’s station. The cat gave a little shudder and rubbed against the arm of the chair a couple times as if to put mussed fur back into place.
“It’s not bad so long as you don’t distract her when she walks in,” Sofie grumbled, sitting in the middle of the chair.
“Sorry about that.” I flashed Trixie a smile that wasn’t at all apologetic. She shook her head as she turned and shoved the cat carrier in an empty cabinet.
I walked over and scratched the cat’s head in greeting, trying to once again suppress the thought that Sofie was a witch and not some weird talking cat. You didn’t rub the head of a witch. Sofie never complained and I had heard her purr a few times, but I didn’t want to think too hard about any of it.
“I’m worried that you’re not getting enough exercise;