The Mech Who Loved Me(101)

His breath caught, his stomach knotting, and the muscles in his left calf launched into a painful cramp that made him grit his teeth as he silently tried to straighten his foot to alleviate it, and finally succeeded.

Kincaid stroked the pale curve of her back, dragging her cloak over them. Her body was cool, the result of being a blue blood, but he didn't complain. This moment was precious in a way he had never expected. Ava nuzzled into his throat as he shifted, a quiet, reflexive move that made him freeze.

They were so different. He'd never seen it coming. The hot flame of his temper to the cool logic of hers; the sweetness of Ava's smile, to the seductive quality of his own. His humanity versus her blue blood nature.

Complete opposites in every way, and yet she complemented him, fitted so perfectly against him. She gave him hope, and laughter, and a lightness that had been missing from his life for years, and he drove her to stand up for herself, and to see how perfect she was despite her own misgivings.

I could love you, he finally admitted to himself, twining one of her curls around his finger. I could wake every day like this, and smile every time I saw your face. I could spend the rest of my life with you, and make something of my life. Something more than this, something that could last forever.

But the problem was, he knew he didn't have forever.

And she did.





Twenty-Three





AVA SET OUT the next day with renewed vigor, leading Kincaid on a merry chase through the streets of the East End and the docks. Malloryn had provided her with a list of potential importers who had connections to the Orient, and she was determined to track down some of the caterpillar mushroom.

It was the key to finding Ulbricht. Or the dhampir. Or whoever had killed Major Winthrop.

It was during their fifth visit they finally struck gold. Kincaid had decided to ride his velococycle again, insisting she cling to the back of him in a set of split skirts Gemma provided. He pulled up out the front of an importer near the docks, eyeing the huge warehouse, and Ava scrambled off the velococycle in a mad rush. She still wasn't used to it.



       
         
       
        

"Relax," he told her. "I barely shifted out of second gear."

"You are utterly mad! You- That thing- We nearly hit a carriage." And as far as carriage-driven collisions went, she felt like she'd had her fair share of almosts.

He turned the engine off, eyes twinkling as he lifted his goggles. "They're the latest rage in the streets, Ava. Every man will be riding one soon."

She growled deep in her throat, and then faced the building. "Mr. Leicester and Sons. He imports rare items from the White Court, India, and Nepal. Furniture, rare books, decorative hangings, timberwork. Malloryn suspects the furniture covers an opium smuggling operation."

Kincaid dragged off his leather gloves, examining the place. "One guard by the look of it. Shall we go in?"

"What?" she challenged, swinging her parasol. "No questions about me getting hurt?"

"I've seen that parasol in action," he pointed out. "And while I would like to keep you safe from harm, Ava, leaving you behind would be counterintuitive to our case. I need that big, intelligent brain of yours to pick apart the truth." He glanced around. "There's a feeling in the streets today, as if one catastrophic spark will unleash a torrent of fury. I just.... We're running out of time. I want to stop this war before it begins."

He looked so earnest. But those would be his friends out there in the streets, all the humanists he'd once known and led.

"I want to stop it too," she said quietly, for everyone's sake, not just the humans.

"Then let's find our murderous mushroom." Kincaid led the way. "I can't believe I just said that."

Ava smiled.

Inside the factory, several men used cranes to manipulate large crates. The noise was enormous, and one fellow directed them toward the office. "Mr. Leicester will know if we've imported any of the items you want to buy."

They changed direction.

A man caught her eye, quickly looking away from her.

"Do the men seem to be staring a little more than usual?" Ava murmured, clutching her parasol.

Kincaid looked around, moving closer to her. "Do you have your pistol on you?"

She blinked up at him. "Yes." But the idea of firing it at someone was completely different from trying to hit a target. She wasn't certain she had it in her.

"Keep moving," he told her. "You're right. They are watching us."

All the hairs on the back of her neck lifted. Ava swallowed, and marched behind him. Behind the glass windows of the office, a man was leaning over a desk, marking things off on a sheet of paper. He saw them coming and froze, his weedy little mustache quivering.