The Final Formula (26 page)

“I think I’m falling for you,” he whispered.

I blinked then jumped as a growl echoed up the stairwell. The lich must have another dog. I gripped Rowan’s arm. “We need to go.”

Rowan reached up and grabbed the lip of the sarcophagus. He pulled himself up, using my shoulder for support. We were doing well until he tried to use his injured leg. The leg buckled and he fell against me.

“Shit.” His expletive came out on a pained grunt.

I caught the lip of the sarcophagus, corralling him in the corner. My back groaned, but I kept him from tumbling down the stairs.

“I’m sorry.” He shifted his weight back onto the wall.

“It’s okay. With my rapid healing, I’m sure the crushed vertebrae will be fine.”

“Not funny.” He bowed his head, taking several deep breaths. On the final one, he hoisted himself up onto the wall with the strength of his arms alone. A pause, and he swung his legs over.

The mausoleum looked the same as when we first walked in. No evidence remained that two-dozen zombies had just crawled out of their graves.

I glanced back down the stairwell and froze. Another dog stood at the base of the stairs, this one more bone than fur. Its milky white eyes focused on me, and it raised one paw and set it on the next step up.

That broke me out of my paralysis. I vaulted the wall in a move so coordinated, it earned a startled look from Rowan.

“We have company.” I wrapped my arm around his waist. “Let’s go.”

Rowan accepted my help, letting me take some of his weight each time he had to use his bad leg. He stopped to catch his breath at the door, his free hand braced on the jamb. The lich’s now familiar laugh rose from the sarcophagus. I urged Rowan outside and shoved the door closed before securing the hasp.

“Come on.” I pulled his arm across my shoulders and helped him toward the nearest streetlight. A low monument made a decent bench, and I encouraged him to sit. I knelt beside him, pulling back his shredded pant leg. Bile rose in my throat at the sight of the nasty wound.

“Oh God, Rowan.” The dog had ripped open a wide gash, tearing deeply into the muscle. I didn’t know how Rowan had come this far, even with my help.

“It’ll heal.”

“We need to get you to a hospital.” The dark material masked it, but his pant leg was blood soaked. I slipped off my jacket and got out my knife to cut off the sleeves.

“No, I’ll be fine. We need to keep moving. If he sends the dog after us, my magic…” He gripped the edge of the monument, his knuckles white. “I’d rather not have to use it right now,” he finished in a whisper.

Because of what I’d done or because his injury robbed him of his ability to concentrate? I didn’t ask. Instead, I worked on getting my makeshift bandage snuggled around his thigh. He grunted as I pulled it tight.

I got to my feet. “Give me the keys and I’ll get the car.”

“You killed the engine last time.” His reference to the time I’d stolen his car brought color to my cheeks. “Have you ever driven a stick?”

“How would I know?” I held out my hand, but he didn’t reach for his keys. “For heaven’s sake, it’s a damn car. If I destroy the transmission you can buy a new one.”

“I don’t want you going alone.”

I blinked and my cheeks heated, remembering what he’d said inside the mausoleum. “Well, I don’t particularly like leaving you here alone either.” I put some anger in my tone to hide my confusion. I wiggled my fingers. “Keys?”

He eyed me for one long moment and then wordlessly dug out the keys.

“Be right back,” I said.

“Don’t destroy my transmission.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” I called over my shoulder.

It turned out that I
could drive a stick, but I was out of practice. I killed the car twice before we were out of the cemetery. Rowan groaned from the passenger seat, but didn’t say anything. He dozed off shortly thereafter, but I found the freeway and later the exit I needed. I finally drove up to the manor about thirty minutes after leaving the cemetery.

No sooner did I step out of the car than Cora came running out.

“Where have you been?” She stopped. “Why are you driving?” She didn’t wait for an answer before hurrying to the passenger side.

“We met a lich and some of his zombie dogs. Rowan got chewed up.”

“A lich?” a familiar voice asked.

I whirled to find James standing behind me.

“You should have called me,” he said.

“He was a necromancer.”

“Oh.”

Cora had Rowan’s door open and was shaking his shoulder, trying to wake him.

“Here, Cora, let me.” James touched her shoulder and she moved aside.

James lifted Rowan from the car and started for the house. Rowan mumbled something, but I didn’t catch the words.

“No,” James answered him. “The transmission sounded fine.”

I rolled my eyes and followed them inside.

Chapter
27

J
ames found me in the
kitchen a short time later. I’d done a thorough search of the pantry and was in the process of devising several rudimentary formulas, but I could only do so much with a stovetop and an assortment of kitchen appliances. Rowan refused to go to the hospital and no one gainsaid him. It was up to me to make him well.

James eyed the cluttered island. “He’s going to be all right, Ad.”

I returned my attention to my notes, scratching out one line to add another. “He was chewed on by dead things. Decayed dead things.”

“I helped Cora strip him down. The wounds have already sealed and when she washed away the blood, I saw no evidence of infection.”

I stopped writing and looked up. “No way. I saw the wound. It was deep, the muscle torn.”

James shrugged. “He’s an Element. Aside from me, there’s not a whole lot that can hurt him. Still, I wish you two hadn’t gone alone. I could have taken care of the dogs.”

“There was a necro, remember? It’s not good to get you too close to one.”

He frowned, though not at me. “I have a will. I’m not a mindless corpse that any common necro can command.”

“Are you saying you can resist?”

“The weak ones.” He hesitated. “I think.”

“That’s not good enough. Besides, how do we know which ones are weak?” I hated to shoot him down, but I didn’t want him anywhere near a necro. And certainly not that thing in the crypt.

James huffed out a breath. “I don’t know.” He looked up, his green eyes meeting mine. “I want to help.
I’m
supposed to be your sidekick.”

I struggled not to smile. Here was the problem. I reached over and gripped his forearm. “Come on. You’re my one and only. I just went along with Rowan to keep him out of trouble. Good thing, huh?”

He snorted. “Did you tell him that?”

“Not yet.” I gathered up my notes. “How’d your evening go?”

“Better than yours. The only dead thing involved was me.”

“Ha ha.” I picked up the lid to the paprika and twisted it in place.

“Anyway, we didn’t find much at his PIA office, but we did find several interesting things at his house.”

“Like…?” I reached for another lid.

“Copies of PIA registration files for hundreds of magical folks.”

“What? Why would he have those?”

“No clue, but you might find the answers on his laptop.”

I stopped twisting the lid on the garlic salt. “You have his computer? Here? Can I take a peek?”

“It’s in Rowan’s office.”

“Oh. Well, maybe I could—”

“It’s almost one in the morning. Lawson is dead and that computer isn’t going anywhere. Let me help you clean up and then you can get some rest.”

I didn’t realize it was that late. Maybe he was right. “Fine.” Rowan may not want me nosing through his office, even if he was falling for me.

“Why are you smiling?” James asked.

I realized that I was. “Just glad to have a lead.” I gathered up a handful of spice tins and headed for the pantry.

I couldn’t sleep—not with the
potential answers Lawson’s computer represented sitting on Rowan’s desk. My bedside clock read 2:57 a.m. Close enough to dawn for me. I left my rumpled bed and snatched up my robe, not bothering to tie it. Rowan’s office wasn’t far.

I reconsidered the wisdom of my nocturnal visit when I noticed the dim light beneath his office door. I hesitated, hand on the doorknob. I didn’t hear any movement within. Had James left the light on when he dropped off Lawson’s computer? I turned the knob and walked in, but stopped on the threshold.

Rowan stood behind his desk, but looked up as I entered. “Addie?”

“What are you doing up?” I blurted, pleased to see him well, but annoyed that he wasn’t resting.

“I could ask you the same thing, but I think I know the answer.” He waved a hand at the unfamiliar laptop sitting on one corner of his desk. I gave it a glance, but that wasn’t what caught my attention. Rowan was dressed for bed, or had just left it. Beneath an open robe, he wore a pair of navy blue pajama bottoms, low on his hips—and nothing else.

“Well?” he prompted, pulling my attention away from his body. “Come in and shut the door. I’m sure it’d be pointless to tell you to go back to bed.”

“As pointless as me telling you that you should be resting.” I closed the door and started toward his desk.

His eyes flicked over me, but I didn’t want to appear self-conscious and pull my robe closed. It wasn’t as if my pajamas were indecent. Granted, the silky pants and matching camisole top weren’t my usual bedtime wear. But it did look a little better than the stained T-shirt and oversized sweatpants I’d worn while living over the gun shop.

“I’m fine.” He sat down in his chair and pulled the laptop closer.

I let the question of his health go and circled around behind his desk. “Find anything?”

“I just turned it on.” The screen showed the Windows logo while the system booted up.

I sat down on the arm of his chair and waited. At least it wasn’t password protected. Within a few moments, we were staring at Lawson’s wallpaper—a mostly naked woman in a vulgar position.

“Nice,” I said.

“I agree.”

“Perv.” I gave him a half-hearted nudge with my elbow. “What kind of person uses a picture like that as his wallpaper? Maybe we should have disinfected the keyboard.”

Rowan snorted. “A girly picture doesn’t make him evil.”

“Speaking from experience, Your Grace? I trust you don’t have one as your wallpaper.”

“No.”

“They’re tucked away in a folder labeled
dull accounting spreadsheets
?”

He snorted again. “I have no porn on my computer.”

“You prefer the magazines?”

“Only for the articles.” He nudged me back, bumping my ribs with his shoulder.

I grinned and got busy sifting through the various programs and looking for anything personal. I hit the mother lode in the My Documents folder. He had an impressive collection of lengthy Word documents. Most had titles like
Book 1, Draft 3
.

“Lawson was a writer?” I asked.

“Looks that way.”

I opened one of the files out of curiosity and began to read. About two paragraphs in, I quickly closed the file, my cheeks flaming.

“I was reading that,” Rowan complained.

I didn’t look at him, but I could tell he smiled. I selected another file and found more of the same. A quick click and I closed it, too.

“The man wrote erotica?” I asked.

“Apparently.”

I grunted, not sure what to say.

“Scroll down,” Rowan said. “Are there any other files of interest?”

“Define interest.” I did as he requested. Toward the bottom we came across a file entitled,
My Life After Death
. I clicked on it, but a password prompt came up.

“Damn.” I didn’t know how to get around that. “The guy leaves the other stuff unprotected, but takes the trouble to secure this? I’m not so sure I want to read it.”

Rowan chuckled. “I can call Gerald in the morning. He’s good with computers.”

Morning. Great. I sighed and took my hands from the keyboard. “I hate waiting.”

“I’ve noticed.”

I ignored that. “Anything else we can go over? James said there were some registration forms—”

“All minor talents. I don’t think Lawson had the clearance for anything else.”

Like the Elements.

“Besides, it might have been job related. I can check with Waylon.”

I got to my feet, rolling up on my toes to stretch my sore calf. The bullet wound was completely healed, but it was still tender. “Lawson wasn’t the one behind this.”

The chair creaked as Rowan came to his feet.

“I want to know who Lawson was working for. I don’t think it was that lich.” I braced my hands to either side of Lawson’s laptop. “But Lawson did call him. What’s the connection between the two?”

Rowan leaned against the edge of the desk beside me. “We’ll find it.”

I didn’t share his optimism. “What is a lich king?”

“A lich with the ability to make other liches. Only the most powerful necromancers can pull it off, and they usually start with themselves.”

I looked over at him. “Why?”

“To give them a sort of immortality.”

“As a rotting corpse?”

“They’re necromancers.” He seemed to think that explained everything.

I sighed and straightened.

“Come here,” he said.

Curious, I moved closer and forgot to breathe when he caught me by the hips. “We’ll figure this out.” He pulled me closer, between his parted knees. “Or rather, you won’t let it rest until we do.”

I arched a brow. “Is that so?”

“I wish you hadn’t given him your blood,” he said, ignoring my comment. “A powerful necromancer can do nasty things with blood freely given.”

“It wasn’t freely given. He held our lives in the balance.”

A small smile curled his lips. “Leave it to you to find a loophole.”

“I’m not as clueless as you think.”

“I’ve never thought that.” He held my gaze with those unusual gray eyes. “You were amazing tonight.” He raised a hand, running the back of his fingers over my cheek. “You saved me.”

“I nearly killed you,” I whispered.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Your mastery of the Elements could use some work.”

“Don’t tease me. I was terrified.”

“You didn’t let it show.”

I ducked my head, embarrassed and yet thrilled by the praise. His fingers touched my chin, tipping my face up. He hesitated and then leaned down and kissed me.

I pressed my hands to his stomach. Warm, bare skin met my palms. His hands found the small of my back and pulled me closer. I slid my hands up over the ribbed contours of his stomach, enjoying the freedom to explore. I was lightheaded when he finally let me up for air. His eyes were completely orange and even as I watched, a shimmer of gold flickered through them.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” I turned away.

He caught my hips again and pulled me to him—my back to his chest.

“Why not?” His warm breath on my ear gave me chills.

“Your eyes. The fire hurts you.”

He nuzzled my neck. “Only if I use it, remember?” He pulled me back tight against him and I gasped. “I want you.”

“I noticed,” I answered and he chuckled. The thin pajama bottoms we each wore hid nothing.

“Let me touch you?”

“Yes.” God, yes.

His hands slid upward to cup my breasts through the light camisole I wore. I couldn’t completely muffle my cry as he teased me through the thin material.

My head came to rest against his collarbone and I arched my back. Was I really the sort of woman who did things like this? Emil claimed we’d been lovers, but I didn’t remember it. This all felt so new. Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this with Rowan, but damn, it felt good. I wanted more. I wanted him.

His right hand slid downward over my stomach and then lower still. I jumped when he found what he was looking for, even though two layers of silky fabric separated me from his fingers. I arched a little more, moving against him.

“Damn,” he whispered, his breath hot against my jaw. “I want to strip you bare and get you down on this desk.” He moved to my throat as he spoke, tongue and lips working toward my shoulder.

“I think your bed would be more comfortable.” Did I say that out loud?

“Would you like to test that hypothesis?”

I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. “Yes, I would.”

We slipped through the house
like a pair of ghosts, our bare feet making no sound on the carpet. Hand in hand, he led me to a wing of the house I’d never been in before and opened a door at the end of the hall. I had a moment to take in the large room decorated in rich jewel tones before he pulled me to him. His mouth covered mine, his kiss passionate, promising. Without breaking contact, he shrugged off his robe and then pushed mine back off my shoulders. I let it slide to the floor. Goosebumps rose as he ran his fingers over my bare upper arms, tracing my tattoos.

His hands fell to my waist and found the hem of my camisole. He took his mouth from mine just long enough to pull my top over my head, then let it fall to the floor. My cheeks heated, and I suddenly didn’t know what to do with my hands.

Rowan relieved me of the dilemma when he kissed me again. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my bare chest met his. We groaned in unison. His hands returned to my hips and this time he disrobed me from the waist down. My mind informed me that I was naked, but oddly, I didn’t care. Pressed against him, I didn’t feel exposed, and the fact that he still wore his pants was strangely…salacious.

Warm fingers trailed from my shoulder blades to the small of my back, and then lower. Without warning, Rowan lifted me. I drew a surprised breath against his lips and gripped his shoulders, wrapping my legs around his waist to keep from falling. His back thumped against the closed door behind him before he regained his balance. Through it all, our lips never broke contact.

He pushed off the door and started across the room. I suspected he headed for the large four-poster bed, but I didn’t know for certain until my back pressed against the cool softness of his silk bedding. He released me and straightened. I squirmed against the black sheets, loving the way the silky fabric caressed my bare skin.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered.

I warmed all the way to my toes. Before I could comment, he shucked off his pants. Dear God. Naked Rowan was a glorious sight—though a bit intimidating. He crawled onto the bed, bracing a hand to either side of my shoulders.

“You’re pretty pleasing yourself, Your Grace.”

He laughed and gave me the most wicked grin before covering my mouth with his. My lips parted, and I welcomed the hot thrust of his tongue, loving the way he tasted. A quick kiss and then he moved down my body. I cried out when he caught a nipple in his mouth. He moved to the other and then went lower, and lower still.

“Rowan!” I gasped when he reached the inside of my thigh.

“Relax.” He exhaled, hot breath against the most sensitive part of my body, and despite my inhibitions, I did eventually relax for him. Well, not relax exactly. Dear Lord, the man had a gifted tongue. And when he raised his orange eyes to watch me, I almost lost it.