Elemental Assassin 05 - Spider's Revenge

my thoughts away from my epic failure. After all, this was another day, as Scarlett O’Hara would say, and here I was, still alive, still breathing, and still determined to do what needed to be done. Jo-Jo had patched me up, made me whole and healthy once more, which meant that I still had a chance to kill Mab—
    “Ahem.” Someone cleared his throat.
    I raised my head and spotted Owen Grayson sitting in a rocking chair at the foot of the bed, an open book in his lap and a mug of coffee on the table beside him.
    “I see that you’re awake now,” he rumbled in his deep voice.
    I smiled at him. “Once more, it seems.”
    Instead of responding to my teasing, rueful smile, Owen put his book aside, crossed his muscled arms over his chest, and speared me with a hard stare. Uh-oh. Someone was not pleased, and I didn’t have to guess why. I hadn’t told Owen what I was doing last night—especially that I was going after Mab.
    Early morning sunlight slanted in through the window, bathing Owen’s chiseled features in a pale golden glow. Blue-black hair, violet eyes, slightly crooked nose, a white scar that slashed underneath his chin. Interestingenough features by themselves, but put them all together, and you had one hell of an attractive man.
    And the rest of Owen was just as appealing. My gaze drifted over his solid, muscled body. In many ways, he had a dwarf’s sturdy physique, although at six feet one, Owen was more than a foot taller than most dwarves. Unlike so many businessmen of his wealth and position, Owen didn’t spend hours in the gym to keep his body lean and trim. No, he’d gotten his physique the old-fashioned way—through years of hard, physical labor. He’d started out as a blacksmith, turning one small shop into a vast business empire that had made him one of the wealthiest men in Ashland, even though he was only in his thirties.
    Being a blacksmith had been a natural fit for Owen, who had what he considered to be a minor elemental talent for metal. He could manipulate it the same way that I could Stone, since metal was an offshoot of that element. But his talent was anything but small, given the exquisite sculptures and weapons that he created, including the matched set of five silverstone knives he’d given me as a Christmas present. The ones that had my spider rune stamped into their hilts.
    But perhaps the thing that most appealed to me about Owen was his personality—and complete acceptance of me. Unlike a previous lover of mine, Owen didn’t judge or condemn me for being the Spider. He knew exactly what kind of dark, violent city Ashland was, and he didn’t look down on the things I’d done over the years to survive. Mainly, because he’d done some of them himself to protect his younger sister, Eva.
    Strong, confident, capable, sexy, caring. Owen waseverything that I’d ever wanted in a lover—everything that I’d ever wanted in my life. Too bad I was too much of an emotional coward to tell him so—or let him know exactly how much I cared about him.
    I kept staring at Owen, and he looked right back at me, not saying anything. Up to me to get the ball rolling then.
    I sighed. “Okay. Let me have it. I know you’re angry. Your eyes are practically glowing with it. Jo-Jo called you, I take it, and told you about my little adventure?”
    Owen gave me the hard stare a moment longer before nodding. “She did. What I really want to know is what the hell were you thinking, going after Mab by yourself? We’ve talked about this, Gin. We’ve all decided that it’s too dangerous.”
    The
we
in question being myself, Owen, Finn, the Deveraux sisters, and my sister, Detective Bria Coolidge. All of us had a vested interest in seeing Mab dead. We just couldn’t figure out how to make it happen without all of us going down in flames with her.
    “I know,” I snapped. “But I’m tired of hiding from Mab and her minions. I’m tired of worrying what she might do to Bria. I want the bitch dead.”
    Owen wasn’t the only one who was angry. I felt it too, sinking its hot, gnashing teeth into my heart, along with the rest of the emotional termites. Most of it was directed at myself because I’d missed last night. But part of it was because I was scared too—scared of how much it had meant to wake up and see Owen sitting next to my bed. We’d been together for a few months now, but it always surprised me just how very much I cared abouthim, especially when I’d been so badly burned by