slightly furtive, Lorcan fished his own key out of his pocket. As the unofficial leader of the resistance, he was the only person with his own room, and his own key. After a moment’s hesitation, he unlocked the door.
There was enough early-morning light sneaking through the thin curtains to allow him to assess the scene. The girl was lying on her side, facing away from the door. She appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Frowning, he entered the room and closed the door behind him, leaning his shoulders against its battered panels as he gazed down at her. Two things alerted him immediately to her identity.
It was the bright mass of wavy blond locks spilling over the pillow almost to the floor together with her unmistakable scent—a subtle floral mix of violets, lily of the valley and jasmine that smelled natural and was probably wildly expensive—that told him who she was.
Why would the Crown Princess Tanzi—spoiled brat sidhe royal, Moncoya’s darling daughter, Valkyrie-trained warrior, Otherworld fashion icon—have turned up at this run-down resistance safe house? And why would she be asking for Lorcan when at their last encounter she had spent all her time looking down her dainty, aristocratic nose at him?
Tanzi came awake slowly, blinking as she took in the shabby, vaguely familiar surroundings. Consciousness wrapped itself around her like a warm blanket. She was in the safe house. Safe. That was the essential word. Her head still ached. Her knees, face and ribs were a rainbow of bruises, but at least Moncoya couldn’t get to her here.
It must have been very early because the room was semidark and there were no noises, voices or footsteps echoing around the rambling house. She yawned, turned and stifled the startled cry that rose to her lips as her gaze took in a pair of long, denim-clad legs stretched out in the chair near the window. The lower body was all she could see. Whoever it was had fallen asleep with his upper half in shadow. It was definitely a he. She did a double check, and the larger-than-average bulge in the crotch of his jeans confirmed it. A blush burned her cheeks. When there is an unknown man in your room, does size matter?
But I locked that door. I know I did! Carefully, she felt under the pillow for confirmation. There was the key. Next to it was the carving knife she had stolen from Maria’s kitchen drawer on her first night in the safe house. Her hand closed gratefully around the handle. Wincing as the movement triggered a sharp pain in her injured side, she slid stealthily from the bed with the knife extended in front of her. The only time in her life Tanzi had been caught unawares was in that alley two days ago. It would never happen again. This intruder was going to wish he had finished the job when he first broke in instead of taking time out for a nap. The thought jolted her. If he intended to harm her, why had he fallen asleep?
She paused, inches from him, trying to get a look at his face. Hesitation. Bad mistake, Tanzi. She could hear the words spoken in the voice of the Valkyrie mentor her father had employed to train his daughters. The intruder’s hand snaked out and caught Tanzi by the wrist. There was a blur of movement and he was on his feet, his body colliding hard with hers. The knife went spinning across the room. With her weapon gone and her opponent so much taller than her, Tanzi resorted to street-fighting tactics. Keeping her head low, she aimed for his eyes with her nails, missed and pulled out a chunk of his hair instead. When he grunted in pain and responded by pinning her arms at her sides, she attempted to knee him in the groin.
Within seconds, it was all over. With no very clear idea of what had happened, Tanzi was sprawled on her back on the bed with her opponent straddling her and pinning her hands above her head.
“Considering you’ve been going around telling everyone how much you need me, this is not quite the welcome I was expecting.”
The words, and the Irish accent, acted like a spell on Tanzi and she stopped struggling. Following his naked, muscular torso upward, her gaze encountered the very pair of smiling blue eyes she had been seeking. Lorcan studied her face, his head on one side. There was a flash of something in his eyes that she had never seen before. It drove the laughter away, replacing it with a cold, hard fury that made her shiver.
“Christ, Tanzi, you look like shit.”
“So do you.”
It was true. His good looks always had a dangerous edge to them, as if he should be a bad-boy rock star or a Byronic hell-raiser. Today he was taking the cynical, world-weary look to extremes. His eyes were bloodshot, his chiseled jawline darkened with stubble. He didn’t even bother to brush away the characteristic flop of dark blond hair from his brow. Clearly deciding she was no longer a danger to him, Lorcan risked letting her go and moved to sit on the side of the bed.
“I haven’t slept in—” he paused and clearly had to think about it “—two nights.”
“So why did you break in here and sleep in the chair?”
A corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. “You were in my bed.”
“Oh.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Your need was greater than mine.”
Tanzi felt at a disadvantage lying down. She was also conscious that she was wearing nothing but her underwear and a very old, faded T-shirt that Maria had unearthed for her. She shuffled into a sitting position, wincing as the movement caused more pain in her ribs.
“Did I hurt you?” Lorcan’s tone was apologetic.
“Yes. But I was going to kill you so I suppose it can be forgiven.”
He started to laugh. “Always so literal. Why are you here, Tanzi?”
“Pedro and Maria gave me this room.”
“You know that’s not what I meant. Tell me why I shouldn’t immediately suspect this is one of your father’s tricks to infiltrate the resistance.”
She fiddled with a loose thread on the bottom of the T-shirt. It meant she could keep her head down and avoid looking at him. “On the battlefield that day, when you rescued me, you made me a promise. That you would be there for me if I needed you.” Suddenly the words were hard to say. Why hadn’t she anticipated this? She took a deep breath and looked up. Lorcan’s steady blue eyes gave her the confidence she sought. “I need you now.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Then you have me. I’m all yours.”
An emotion she had never felt before tugged hard at Tanzi’s chest. Was it gratitude? Tenderness? Empathy? They were all new to her. Moncoya discouraged mortal emotion, particularly where his daughters were concerned. Tanzi and Vashti were his finely tuned weapons. Their hearts should be encased in steel. It was an odd sensation to discover that her own steel casing might have a flaw. Tanzi’s voice was husky when she spoke again. “Aren’t you going to ask me why?”
“If you want me to know, I expect you’ll tell me in your own time.” Lorcan stretched his arms above his head. “Right now, if I don’t shower and then get some breakfast, I’ll be no use to you or anyone.”
* * *
The square was crowded with students. Competing music blared from open dormitory windows and from the bars around the outer edge. Lorcan skirted around skateboarders, impromptu dancers and chattering groups, carrying beer and pizza to where Tanzi was sitting on the steps of the university building waiting for him. She wore leggings and a sweatshirt that was
