She raised a brow. “You expect me to give you a weapon? You’re a criminal.”
“I’m good with a knife, lassie. If we run into the rogue gods or his demons, you’re going to want me at your back.”
Her cool gray eyes assessed him. “Fine. I have a spare.”
She dug another sheathed knife out of the bottom of her bag and handed it over. It was identical to the ones she’d slipped into her boots. It seemed Fiona liked to be prepared.
He put it into the pocket of his jacket and asked, “Do you have lockpicks?”
She gave him a don’t be an idiot look and patted her jacket pocket.
“Good.” He followed her out the door and down the stairs, his eyes glued to her arse. After so long alone in that miserable prison, his cock hardened just looking at her. Hell, all the protestations in the world that he wasn’t an animal wouldn’t keep his eyes in check around Fiona.
They slipped out into the cold January air. Biting wind cut through the black night. The museum loomed across the street, an ornate gargoyle of a building that contained the treasures of the ages. Anticipation and a sense of endless possibility zipped through him. The museum, his for the taking. A battle of wit and wills that he would win.
He was free of that damned prison.
Though obnoxious, the collar was nothing compared to the cell. To the lack of control he’d had over his life. But that was about to change. He’d get the book and use it to barter for his freedom. The university couldn’t be trusted to spit on you if you were on fire. They sure as hell wouldn’t free him when this was all over.
“This way.” Fiona set off across the street and he followed.
Noise from the pubs spilled out into the street, and darkened storefronts watched them silently. Gleaming streetlamps marched their way down the sidewalk and cut through the dark night.
Instead of approaching the grand museum entrance on the left, they turned right, toward the alley. Ian took the lead, pleased that Edinburgh hadn’t changed much since he’d last been free. A few tourist shops now dotted the first floors of the towering old buildings between the pubs and shops, but the layout was the same.
They dodged a group of drunken lads stumbling to the next pub and turned into the alley. The light dropped instantly, a black gloom overtaking the narrow cobbled space.
“Come on, the door is at the back,” he said.
They crept along, their footsteps silent, and he couldn’t help but be impressed by Fiona’s stealth. She was an Acquirer, basically a thief who had permission to steal, so she would be good at sneaking about. Shame she never kept what she found. Too many morals or something.
A rustling noise made the back of Ian’s neck prickle. He stopped, and Fiona pulled to a halt behind him. His muscles tensed as he waited for another sound.
There. Another rustle. Had the god’s envoys beaten them to the museum? Fiona stepped forward. He reached behind and pressed a hand to her stomach, staying her. He couldn’t help the shiver that ran up his arm at the feel of her soft warmth beneath his palm.
A moan filtered through the alley and Fiona tensed beneath his hand. He barely perceived her reaching into her boot to withdraw her dagger.
The moan sounded again, this time louder and clearer. His gaze snapped toward the sound and he saw two figures pressed against the wall near the museum’s small private entrance.
Holy fuck. Two people were having sex. His blood rushed even as annoyance surged through him. Had he not been locked up for nearly a century, no doubt he’d have only felt annoyance.
He stepped forward to break up the party, but Fiona’s hand clamped on his arm.
“Nay,” she hissed. “I doona want them knowing our faces.”
He turned back. “What?”
“In case something goes wrong at the museum. I doona want a trail that leads back to us. Come on.” She pulled his arm. “We’ll wait it out in this doorway.”
His jaw clenched, but he let her lead him toward an inset doorway. They had about two feet of cubbyhole in which to hide, so he stepped onto the stoop behind her and tucked himself into the shadows. They stood so close together that he could feel the heat of her against him.
He stiffened, unable to keep his cock from following suit. It’d been too damn long.
The noises from the alley increased. Damn drunken idiots.
Fiona whispered from behind him, “You’re a Historious. Why’d you turn to stealing? You could have worked for the university as an Acquirer, like me.”
His head whipped around. “What?”