hair, or what should have been wet hair. As she gazed up at Lugh, a puff of warmth flooded over her like a summer breeze. Where her fingers had started into wet hair, by the time she finished the stroke, her hair was completely dry and softly falling around her shoulders. Her robe was dry as well, and her skin had lost its icy chill. Having a sun god for your patron had its perks. “There’s something else going on,” she confessed. “The government is investigating the collapse of the wizards’ headquarters. They got video of Malcolm and me escaping the building through teleportation. They know I was there and I’m worried that they’ll figure out who Malcolm is as well. I’m not sure how this is going to end, but it could expose the fey.”
Lugh’s strong hands rubbed up and down London’s back reassuringly. “You understand your people and this time better than I do. But humans in authority have usually found it within their benefit to keep the magical world from the attention of the common man. Even in my time on the surface there was a tendency to imply that magic and the fey were only legends. Many more humans knew the truth then, than do now. Now they seem to not look past those scrying devices in their hands. Or past the windshields of their autos. It is an interesting phenomenon that the more crowded humans have become, the more shortsighted they seem to be. It is as if their world only extends as far as their hands can reach, and they have trouble seeing beyond it.”
“This government agent, Granger, seems to know more is going on. He spoke of demons, and vampires, and I wouldn’t imagine that the fey are outside his realm of awareness.” The more she spoke of it, the more certain she was that she couldn’t walk away.
Lugh glanced down at London and his fingers traced the chain from the curve of her neck down to the cleft of her collarbone where his symbol gleamed. “Do you think you’ll be able to divert the government’s attention?”
“I’m not certain, but I need to try. That was quite a dramatic event, where the dwarves brought that building down. The humans think it was a terrorist attack, and terrorism is something they take very seriously.”
“As I can imagine.” His gaze lifted from the symbol to meet her eyes once more. “Come, you seem exhausted. Allow me to hold you as you take your rest and give you comfort before beginning the battle anew.”
London practically melted into Lugh’s body as he lifted her into his embrace and carried her to the sofa where they stretched out together. She tucked into him and held him tightly. His arms encircled her and she felt his kisses on the top of her head. It was like this that she fell asleep almost immediately. And even when the light of the sun finally touched her face to wake her once more, she still felt as if he was there, even when she opened her eyes and knew that he was not.
Chapter Thirteen
Peyton hadn’t been overly concerned with using a razor when he’d first been on the run from Deacon, and now that lapse in habit worked to his advantage. Three days without shaving and the chiseled features that usually got people giving Peyton a second look softened, changing his appearance enough that even people that knew him wouldn’t have recognized him with a casual glance. He had that kind of face. In another life, Peyton could have been an actor, becoming the role that he played. That kind of talent served him well enough in this line of work. He could blend in when he wanted to, and catch someone’s eye if he meant to. This time, it was all about going unnoticed.
Yellow safety helmet covering his brown hair, safety glasses hiding part of his features, and the typical scrubby, ill fitting jeans and bright yellow safety vest over an untucked undershirt, and he was just another worker ant on the scene. With a pick axe balanced on his shoulder, he walked through the gate with the rest of the crew cleaning up the debris of the
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