The Bite Before Christmas (Argeneau #15.5)

The Bite Before Christmas (Argeneau #15.5) Page 25

Balchezek said he needed to fact-check a few things and he'd return later, so it was only Ian and I who descended back into the underground garage.

"Tell me you did not barter your soul, Kitten," were Bones's first words when we came into sight.

Although I'd given that more than a passable thought, I was able to say, "Of course not," with total honesty. If I made sure to sound like I'd never even considered it, well, that was just the icing on the cake.

Bones drilled Ian with a hard stare next. "Is she lying?"

"You'd believe his word over mine?" I shook my head. "That's insulting."

Ian gave Bones a languid smile. "No worries, Crispin. Our sulfur-smelling mate has more pedestrian reimbursements in mind for any assistance he gives us."

"Really," I added when Bones still looked like he doubted we were telling the truth.

"We'll need to keep you chained until we hear from Balchezek and come up with a game plan," I went on, hating the necessity even as I acknowledged the reason for it. "Ian and I will watch over you in shifts. I'm sorry for the-"

"I'm not sorry," Bones cut me off. He'd been staring at me, but then he glanced away. "I can't harm you this way. That's all I bother about."

"Excuse us for a moment, Crispin," Ian said. Then he tugged me along to far side of the haphazard concrete maze where the hole to the outside was. He jumped out and I followed, wondering what was up now.

Ian walked over to the side of the street. "Are you trying to make Crispin lose the hold he has over the demon?"

I blinked at the question, too surprised to be offended. "Why would you say that?"

"He's shredded with guilt over what that demon made him do. Blimey, I'm a selfish conceited bastard and even I'd feel badly about kicking your face in and trying to kill you if you were my wife. Multiply that by Crispin's far finer qualities, and you have a man tormented. Yet you're acting as though he is to blame."

Okay, now I was angry. Didn't take long at all when talking to Ian. "I know it's not his fault. That it was all her, and he has nothing to feel bad about. So why don't you go take a flying fuck, Ian!"

"Why don't you take a chained one," he countered.

I scoffed. "I'm sure that's a fabulous British comeback, but it's wasted on me because I don't know what it means."

"It means," he replied, speaking slowly, as though I was a child, "that I've seen how you normally act after a separation where one of you was almost killed. You nearly kick people out of the way to shag each other. Yet all you're doing now is contributing to his guilt when you should be showing him that he's still the man you're in love with, demon or no demon. And chains or no chains."

My mouth opened, ready to let loose a caustic comment about how Ian thought sex fixed any situation, when I stopped. He might have a point. I could reassure Bones until I was blue in the face that I didn't consider him responsible for what the she-bitch did when she was in the driver's seat, but as the saying went, actions spoke louder than words. Granted, there was nothing romantic about an underground, abandoned Jiffy Lube station, but Bones had made more out of less when circumstances threw us a curve ball.

I'd just have to do the same.

"You don't get to stay and watch," was what I finally said.

His lips twitched. "It would be safer in case the demon resurged and took control-"

"Bite me," I cut him off.

This time, Ian didn't attempt to stuff back his laughter. "I'll leave that to Crispin."