wrist felt heavy, a physical reminder of her responsibility.
That she’d ignored.
But he wasn’t just any prisoner; he was Ian. And she was naked in bed with him after the most incredible sex. She hadn’t woken up like this with a man since before the book entered her life and she’d become obsessed with finding it.
Ever since she’d failed to find the book nine years ago, the time when the prophecy had specifically said she’d recover it, she’d started retreating from everyone around her. She’d been vaguely aware that she’d been doing it, but she’d told herself she was just focusing on work and fixing what she’d screwed up. It was more important than anything else.
Which was true. But looking back, she supposed that she’d been pushing people away. It was probably unhealthy, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. It was how she operated best.
Until Ian. Until he’d somehow weaseled his way into her mind and maybe even a tiny corner of her heart. The idea terrified her and made her vaguely queasy. He’d be going back to prison, and now she was afraid she couldn’t get enough of him.
No, it was just sex. Nothing serious. They barely knew each other. She’d just been in a drought. One she hadn’t really noticed because of work, but a drought nonetheless. So had he. They were just helping each other out. And now she’d focus on work.
She nodded decisively, even though she knew it was a lie.
Ian made a sleepy noise and shifted. Quietly as she could, she crawled out from beneath his arm and crept out of the bedroom, intent on a shower. They still had at least an hour before they could break into the museum.
It didn’t take much time to get cleaned up, but it was long enough that her mind started to zero in on her goals again, on the magnitude of the opportunity she’d been given.
By the time she made it back to the bedroom, Ian was sitting on the side of the bed.
“Hey.” His voice was rough from sleep, his hair tousled.
Oh, he looked good. But she didn’t know what else to say to this man who’d quickly become much more than a one-night stand. “Hey.”
“Thanks for that.” His eyes were sincere, and she felt heat climb into her cheeks.
“Sure.”
The towel wrapped around her didn’t feel nearly big enough. She walked to her bag, which sat on the chair, and fished around for jeans and a shirt. The heat of his eyes burned into her back as she dropped the towel and tugged them on. It was unexpectedly intimate to change in front of him and a shiver went down her spine.
“I’m going to shower.”
She didn’t turn to face him. “Okay. We’ve still got an hour before it’s quiet enough to break in. I’m going to go keep an eye on the museum through the window.”
“All right.”
Her grip on her shirt loosened when she heard pipes squeal from the running water. A great sigh heaved out of her. Treating this as something casual wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d hoped.
An hour later, Ian followed Fiona down the stairs and out onto the rain-dampened street. They’d spent the last hour at the window, surveying the museum to see if any of the god’s demons would try to get in, but he hadn’t been able to keep his mind off Fiona.
He couldn’t help but feel like he’d been cleaned out. Like the worst of the fog that prison had cast over his mind had dissipated. It’d been a hell of an introduction back to the real world, but it had worked.
The whole time he’d been in prison, as new prisoners had told of the changes that were occurring in the outside world, he’d thought that the biggest thing he’d have to adjust to would be changing culture and technology.
He’d been wrong. It had been connecting with another person. He’d known he was lonely in prison, but he hadn’t realized how much so until Fiona had shown up. The connection he felt with her reminded him that he wasn’t broken after all.
She had done that for him. He felt pathetically grateful to her and helplessly intrigued. He’d wanted it to be just another shag. Like any of the nights with countless women before he’d been thrown in prison.
But it hadn’t been. It’d been more. He liked her, more than ever now. Sure, maybe it was infatuation because she’d sprung him from jail. And she hated that he was a thief. Probably didn’t even trust him.
But she’d been with him today, been more generous than he’d had any right to hope for, when he was at his lowest low. He wore a collar, for fuck’s sake.
He glanced at her as she strode across the street toward the museum. Confidence blazed from her, brighter than the car headlights in the distance.
No woman had ever been with him when he hadn’t been at his best. It had taken him nearly forty years to figure out the true extent of his powers and learn to use them well. Once Ian had accumulated some wealth, life had been fine. Women had flocked to him.
But when he’d been poor and powerless, no woman had ever wanted him. He couldn’t blame them. Poverty had made him a mean bastard. Without charm or wealth, there’d been no woman willing to take a risk on him, especially not when they’d lived in a time when, more often than not, a woman needed a man to take care of her if she didn’t want to face a life of poverty and never-ending drudgery.