Forged by Desire by Bec McMaster Read Free Book Online Page B

settle over them now. As though both of them were far too aware of what had changed, yet neither wished to mention it. Sometimes he felt like he was truly losing her. If the opera had never happened, he could have confided in her about his CV levels and found some sense of solace, at least.
    Now he could not. Because she was the greatest torment he faced, and how the devil could a man admit that to a woman? To a friend? Every moment she was with him, he couldn’t stop thinking about her—the sound of the soft, little moans she would make as he pinned her beneath him, the taste of her skin, and the wetness of her blood splashing over his lips… He shifted and forced his thoughts to other things. To two poor girls with their hearts cut out of their chests.
    “I hope not,” Perry murmured.
    Garrett shared her sentiments. Verwulfen were another species indeed. Dangerous, ridiculously strong, and impervious to pain when in the grip of berserkergang , the strange fury that drove them while they were in a rage. The Echelon had ruled them too volatile to live freely ever since they’d exterminated the Scottish verwulfen clans at Culloden, locking them in cages and considering them slaves. Dozens of them had been thrown into the Manchester Pits to fight to the death for the joy of the crowd, or even the rough Pits in the East End of London, but times were changing. Several months ago, a treaty had been forged between the Scandinavian verwulfen clans and the Echelon, with a law decreeing all verwulfen in the Isles free of their shackles.
    The man responsible for that was Will Carver. Once second-in-command of a dangerous rookery gang. And now Garrett and Perry had to question Carver’s wife.
    Garrett knew how well that interview would proceed.
    ***
    Luck wasn’t with them. The ambassador was home.
    The ancient butler ushered Garrett and Perry into a study where a pretty young woman sat behind a desk, patiently showing a hulking brute a letter. The man’s coat was strewn carelessly over the back of a chair, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Despite the cut of the clothing, he seemed ill at ease in it. As if he still wasn’t used to finery.
    At Garrett and Perry’s entrance, the pair looked up, their almost identical bronze-colored eyes locking on the two Nighthawks. While a smile dawned on Mrs. Carver’s lips, her husband merely examined them with a dark glare.
    “Good morning, Mr. Carver.” Garrett bowed his head. “Mrs. Carver.”
    “Is it a good mornin’, then?” Carver replied, straightening to his full, almost intimidating height. “Nighthawks in me study don’t usually herald good news.”
    “Not good news, no,” Garrett replied. “I would like to have a word with your wife, if I might.”
    “I don’t think so,” Carver growled.
    “Will.” Mrs. Carver shot him a demure look from beneath her lashes. Though Carver’s lips thinned, he stepped back and folded his arms across his chest, letting her have her way.
    “What may I do for you?” she asked, leaning back in the chair and eyeing the pair of them. Her dark hair was gathered into a neat chignon, yet delicate brown ringlets framed her pretty heart-shaped face. She was the sort of woman that might have drawn Garrett’s eye a while ago. Perhaps a month or more ago.
    Perry stepped forward. “A pair of bodies was found at one of the draining factories this morning—”
    “What are you tryin’ to say?” Carver snapped.
    “One of the girls wore the same ring your wife does,” Perry replied. “We’re trying to ascertain the girl’s identity. Nothing else. Barrons sent us here to inquire about the ring.”
    Garrett let her lead. Perhaps Carver would find it less antagonizing to deal with a woman. And it gave him time to study the pair of them.
    Mrs. Carver looked genuinely distressed at the news. She touched the ring on her right hand, her brow furrowing. “That’s terrible news. But I don’t know if I can help you. There are