“Been busy.”
Blade stepped forward with a right hook that Will bobbed out of the way to avoid. “Who is she? You’ve never ’ad a woman as I can recall.”
“Not got one now.” He ducked a tricky combination and slammed his fist forward, under Blade’s guard.
Blade staggered back, grinding his teeth together. “Fine. Let’s just pretend you’re strung up tighter ’an a lute for no reason. Only thing as leads to that is woman trouble.”
Will ducked another right hook and stepped straight into Blade’s left fist. The punch snapped his head back, but it lacked the force it once had. Years ago, Blade’d been able to take him down to the mats at nearly every session. Now he was lucky if he could do it once a month.
Will shook his head and dodged a foot that Blade snapped toward his face. He barreled forward, his shoulder driving into Blade’s midriff and his arms wrapping around him. Both of them went down hard.
Blade locked his legs around his waist and flipped him. Will took another punch to the face and tasted blood. Kicking Blade off, he rolled to his feet and wiped his mouth.
“You’re gettin’ slower.”
Blade’s eyes narrowed and he drove a fist into Will’s side. The breath expelled from Will’s chest and he grunted, avoiding the next blow by an inch.
“Slow enough?” Blade snarled.
Will looked up, his blood boiling around his ears. “You have to stop drinkin’ her blood.”
The words fell into the suddenly silent room.
“What the ’ell do you mean by that?” Blade asked, his hands lowering.
Cursing the reckless urge that had made him blurt it out, he shook his head. “Naught.”
“Aye, you do. You know exactly what you mean.” Blade stared at the back of his hands, stretching out his fingers. “Me skin’s gettin’ darker. Me hair too. And I’m gettin’ weaker. Weak and slow.” Barking a laugh, he ran his hands through his hair. “Three years ago I’d ’ave killed to be more human. They says you ought be careful what you wish for.” Sucking in a deep breath, he admitted, “I’ve only bin takin’ enough of her blood for her not to be suspicious. The rest I drink cold, out o’ the icebox. Honoria thinks me CV levels have reached a plateau.” He looked down. “If the Echelon finds out, we’re dead.”
Will nodded. The Devil of Whitechapel’s reputation was the only thing keeping them out of the rookery. If they thought he had a weakness, they’d be on him like a pack of dogs.
“How long ’ave you known?”
“A year. Once I started beatin’ you regular-like, I began to wonder,” Will replied.
“Shit.” Blade turned around and stalked off the mats. “I bin thinkin’, maybe I oughta go back to drinkin’ normal blood for a bit, get me CV levels up. But ’ow do I tell ’er that? She’s obsessed with curin’ me.”
Will followed him, his muscles still distended. He wanted more work in the ring before Lena arrived for their lesson—if she arrived—but it was clear Blade was done with it. “The last thing I can offer is advice on women.”
Blade barked a laugh. “God’s truth.” He snatched his shirt up and tugged it over his head. Unlike Will, his skin was dry. A blue blood didn’t sweat.
“But you don’t need to worry ’bout the Echelon. You ain’t the only blue blood we got now. There’s Rip and Charlie. And me.” Will picked up his towel.
“And what’ll the Echelon see? A rogue blue blood with a mech arm, a boy strugglin’ to control his blood urges, and a beast that ought to be caged.”
It was the truth, but it still rankled. Will slung the towel over his shoulders and hung onto both ends. “Might be true. But remember you ain’t alone. They come for you and they’ve got to go through me first.”
“You won’t be here forever.”
Will stiffened. “Didn’t know I were leavin’.”
Blade gave him a knowing look. “You need more than this, Will. I think you’re just startin’ to figure that out yourself.”
Will opened his mouth to retort, but Blade’s head cocked. Will heard the sound the second after. Skirts. Swishing on the stairs.
“Honoria.” Blade looked around guiltily. “She can’t know.”
“She ain’t no fool.”
“Not yet,” Blade snarled and moved to open the door. “Not ’til I work somethin’ out.”
Will turned, dragging the towel over his chest. Behind him, the door opened and Honoria’s scent bled into the room. With a slight aftertaste of honeysuckle. His gut clenched. Lena. Directly on Honoria’s heels. She’d come for the lesson.
A part of him hadn’t expected her to show up. Not after last night. With guilt and desire burning a ragged hole in his insides, he wiped the scowl from his face and reached for his shirt.
“Goodness,” Honoria murmured to Blade. “Is that blood on your knuckles?”
“Aye. Will forgot to duck.”
His gaze went straight past the pair of them. Lena hovered in the doorway, looking every inch the society lady in lemon yellow. Her hair was artfully curled over one shoulder, hiding the bite mark on her neck, and a jaunty little bonnet set off the gleaming highlights in her dark hair.
Lena’s gaze dropped, darting over the shirt in his hands and his bare chest before she looked away. A frozen little smile was etched on her full mouth. Her defense, he realized. The way she hid from the world, from her own family even. From him.
Her confession the night before made his chest ache. He’d wanted to go after Colchester with an ax, but the sound of her pain tore something deep inside him. He’d crushed her close, trying to hold the hurt away, but it was bone deep.
Alone. She’d been alone through all of it. Unable to tell her family—to burden her sister. Keeping that pretty little smile fixed in place as if nothing had ever happened when deep inside the wound festered and grew.
He tore his shirt over his head as Honoria lifted on her toes and pressed her lips affectionately against Blade’s. It was too tempting right now to grab her by the shoulders and ask her where she’d been when Lena was lying bleeding in an alley. He knew it wasn’t her fault; circumstances had been what they were then, but the fury in him didn’t recognize that. Instinct fought logic and he’d been too long a wolf at heart not to go with his gut. He had to get out of here.
“Where are you going, Will?” Honoria asked, catching his movement out of the corner of her eye. The smile she wore was almost the same as Lena’s, but far more genuine.
“Got a lesson with Lena.”
Lena’s head jerked up and crimson infused her cheeks. She looked him in the eye, her chin tilted with icy disdain. Cool. Untouchable. Carefree.
With the razor edge of hurt souring her scent.
“Don’t you want to know about that letter you brought me?” Honoria asked. “I’ve made some progress with the code.”
The brief flash of color drained out of Lena’s face and her eyes widened in disbelief.
“Later,” he said. “After me lesson.”
Honoria murmured something to Blade as he strode to the door. Lena leaped out of his way as if afraid he’d actually touch her. Too late for that, sweetheart. He’d had his hands, his lips, his teeth all over her.
And it couldn’t happen again.
Her presence drove him right to the edge and threatened to shove him off. She was too dangerous, too rousing. Even last night he’d come back from the fury of passion to see the bite marks and bruises all over her pale skin. Verwulfen had walked through fire and lost arms and legs in such a state without even realizing. The fury, the wild, drove him to actions he couldn’t remember, let alone control.
There would be nothing worse than seeing her blood on his skin. Or fear in her eyes. As much as he wanted her—as much as he always had—he could never trust himself.
And then there was the threat of the loupe itself.
Taking a deep breath, he offered her his arm. “Comin’?”
This was all he would ever have of her. Stolen touches, stolen glances. And the desperate, longing ache in his chest and cock.
“Of course.” Resting her gloved fingertips lightly on his arm, she followed him out the door.
They’d taken barely three steps before Lena wrenched her hand off his and spun to face him. “You told her?”
“Not ’ere.” Not with Blade’s hearing.
Anger stiffened her shoulders. Seizing a fistful of her skirts, she swept ahead of him. “Where to?”
Considering her question, he placed a hand on the small of her back and directed her toward the kitchen. “The yard. Wait for me there. I’ve somewhat for you.”
Dark eyes glared back over her shoulder in suspicion. “What is it? This is wasting valuable time, Will. You did well the other night, but there are a few things I need to go over with you.”
“This is important.”
After a searching gaze, she threw up her hands and sighed. “Why not? Go and fetch it then. The sooner we’re done, the sooner I can return home. I’ve got to get ready for the dinner Leo’s hosting.”
He’d hurt her last night. And done it deliberately. For a moment he wanted to step forward, catch her wrist, and tell her he’d been wrong, that he was sorry. To lift her face to his and kiss her until she was gasping for breath again, her body turning molten under his touch.
But perhaps it were better if she were angry with him.
For the both of them.
Waiting until she’d turned and departed for the yard, he thundered up the stairs and fetched the small bag he’d left in Blade’s sitting room. By the time he arrived in the yard, Lena was pacing, her arms crossed under her breasts and a sad, pensive little look on her face.
When she saw him, the expression melted as if it had never been there. With a disdainful lift of one eyebrow, she glanced at the bag. “I can’t accept any personal items. They’re not the sort of things a man gives a woman he’s not courting.” Her tone turned frosty. “We wouldn’t want any more mistakes of intention, now would we?”
Perhaps giving her a pistol in this mood was tantamount to suicide.
He bit his tongue and dragged a small Hessian sack out of the leather bag. “Bought this for you. I ain’t finished tinkerin’ with it, but the sooner you learn to use it the better.”
“What is it?”
He opened the sack. The pistol gleamed against the rough cloth, the mother-of-pearl inlay fracturing the weak sunlight into a half-dozen rainbows.
“A pistol?” she said stupidly. “You’re giving me a pistol?”
He caught her hand and eased the handgrip into it, closing his fingers around hers. “Small enough to fit in your reticule. You ever fired one?”
“Don’t be absurd.” Her dark eyes widened. “When on earth would I have ever used a pistol?”
“Honoria knew how to use one.”
“Father taught her. He had no time for me.”
Will stroked his thumb over her gloved knuckles. “Why?”
“I was never clever enough to understand his work or half of what he said. He was a famous inventor. We had little in common.”
“You’re clever. All that tinkerin’ with clocks.”
“A useless hobby.” She lowered the pistol. “He wouldn’t have been impressed. He would have been able to do it himself in half the time I could. You don’t understand.”
“Don’t I?” The quietness of his words made her look up. “I couldn’t do it. I used to watch you playin’ on the rug with all them scattered pieces, puttin’ them back like they was a puzzle. Baffled me.”
“Yes, but you have other talents,” she replied. Somehow he didn’t think she’d realized that he was still stroking her hand. “You’re strong and not afraid of anything. You could kill a man with your bare hands.” Something dark came into her eyes. Shadows that made his hackles rise. “You could kill a blue blood. I envy you, you know?”
“With this you can be strong. You can be fearless.”
Her rancor faded. She looked at the pistol, seeing it with new eyes. “Do you think I could kill a blue blood with this?”
He tried to ignore the way her words stirred his temper. “When I’m finished with it. I’ll modify it like your father done with Honoria’s pistol. She taught me how to make them firebolt rounds. I’ve seen ’em take a blue blood’s head off before. Explodes like rotten melon.”
Lena shivered. “That sounds dreadful.”
“You only have to use it once.”
