Her eyes watered again as she read out loud. “？‘If faithfully followed, this shall bring unto the caster a true love for the whole of her, all parts contained within her, evil or no.’？”
She reached out and stroked the page. “Thank you, old friend.”
There was a sniffle from the Book, the upper right corner of the folios whiffling.
“Now… what do I need,” she murmured as she resumed reading.
* * *
“What do you need, Erika?”
As Balz asked the question, it was one hell of a leading one. But here was the thing: Her body was already with him. He could scent her arousal, and even if his nose was wrong—which it wasn’t—there was no mistaking where her eyes kept going.
He wanted her to look at him like that for the rest of both their lives.
It was as if she not only approved of his body… but wanted to touch him. Taste him.
And big frickin’ surprise, he was incapable of not responding to the sexual need in her. Even though the Brotherhood’s hidden garage was about as romantic as an AutoZone store, and he was beat to shit, and there was absolutely nothing comfortable to lie down on, he was still more than ready to…
“Tell me,” he whispered. “What do you need.”
Her eyes went back to his mouth, and it was like she was testing them out with her own already, taking from him, having a proverbial bite—and it was then he knew he was going to have her. The “yes” was in her hungry stare, the turn in her body, and that holy-shit scent.
As she took a deep breath, he wanted to keep talking, if it would put her at ease—
“I need you to let me go,” she said hoarsely. “Please.”
Balz dropped his lids. And prayed that he could hide his reaction. It wasn’t anger; it was disappointment—and not just because he wasn’t going to get the chance to mount her, and penetrate her, and give her the best orgasms of her life. The biggest regret was with himself. As usual.
“You know,” he said as he shook his head, “I’m really getting tired of being a thief.”
“There are other professions,” she said dryly. “You could try accounting. Legal work. Probably not teaching, though, given where your expertise lies. Some things shouldn’t be passed down to the next generation.”
He smiled a little. Then went back to being serious. “I don’t want to steal anymore. At least not when it comes to you. I’m done with it.”
Staring into her eyes once again, he entered her mind and flipped all her memories free. All of the ones he’d hidden. Every single recollection he’d buried.
Immediately, she gasped and then focused on the middle ground between their faces, her eyes blinking. And when she finally looked at him properly again, she seemed to reassess all of his details—and there was no way what she saw worked in his favor.
“I was right,” she said. “You took my memories—”
“Patched is more like it.”
“How?”
He cleared his throat. “Just like flipping switches on a motherboard. The human brain is a conduit for electricity, so it’s all about routing.”
“But… how…”
As she stared off into space again like she was trying to solve pi to the tri-billionth decibel—decimal, he corrected—he couldn’t bear anything about their whole situation. The whole goddamn thing was fucked.
Getting to his feet, he wrapped the sheet fully around his lower body—because flashing her was not going to be a value-add—and went over to a fireproof lockbox the size of a big-screen TV. Mounted on the interior wall of the garage, the arsenal safe had a conventional lock, not one made of copper, so all he had to do was will it open, and then it was a case of—
“Welcome to the gun show,” Erika said haltingly.
“Holy crap, I was literally just thinking that.” He glanced over his shoulder and saw that she’d gotten to her feet. “I want to make sure you’re properly armed before you go.”
As he turned back to the guns that were arranged on racks, his instincts told him she was closing in on him—and God, he wished they lived in a world where she didn’t have a reason to be armed, and he didn’t have a reason to make sure she had so many bullets on her. Taking stock of the autoloaders, the rifles, and the big-bore stuff down at the bottom, he chose two nine millimeters and grabbed a pair of backup magazines.
“Here,” he said, holding out the load. “I don’t have any holsters, but you have at least one on you, right?”