“You scared me half to death,” she repeated when he’d tossed the cordless on his desk.
“I –” he began.
She quickly interrupted him by slamming the door behind her and whirling back around. “I woke up and you were gone, Mallory was gone, Bran was gone, everyone was gone!” she shouted.
“Calm down, sweetheart,” Colin said gently, completely calm himself and, in the face of it, she went from irrational to insane.
“Don’t tell me to calm down! You never leave me in bed without –”
She stopped abruptly and lifted her hands to the sides of her hair, shifting the heavy masses away from her face and holding them up.
“I thought something happened to you.” This came out as an accusation and after she voiced it, Sibyl glared at him as if it was entirely his fault.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” Colin explained.
“Well, I’d rather you wake me than have the living daylights frightened out of me first thing in the goddess-damned morning,” she snapped.
His gaze dropped lazily to her thighs and she looked down, realising her hands in her hair brought the t-shirt up to show a hint of the lacy, lilac underwear her sister had cajoled her into buying.
She dropped her arms instantly.
“Come here.” Now his voice was pure silk, his eyes were warm and her bones showed signs of beginning to melt.
Regardless of all that, it was still morning and she was still very grumpy.
“No. My head’s pounding and I’m in a very bad mood.”
He gave her one of his lazy smiles while noting, “You’re always in a bad mood in the morning.”
“Stop being all teasing and sweet. I’m telling you, I’m not in the mood,” she warned.
“Am I being teasing and sweet?” he asked, while, she noted, being teasing and sweet.
In answer, she growled.
“Sibyl, come here,” he ordered.
“Why?” she shot back.
“So I can help with your mood,” he tempted, his eyes, if possible, growing warmer.
“How are you going to do that?” she queried warily, even as she moved forward. She didn’t allow him to answer because she knew by the look in his eye what the answer was. She tried to change the subject. “And who were you talking to on the phone?”
“A private investigator.” Colin arms stole around her when she arrived within reaching distance and she lifted her hands to rest on his upper arms.
At her wide-eyed look at his statement, he continued, “I’ve engaged him to put a team together to find the men from last night.”
“The police –” she started.
“I want them first,” Colin stated, the warmth in his eyes gone in a flash, they were glittering like shards of ice.
“Colin.”
“Quiet Sibyl, we’re not discussing this. I’m handling it. You’re not to interfere.”
This was not what Sibyl wished to hear at the best of times but certainly not in the morning.
Therefore her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I beg your pardon?”
“They held a knife to your throat,” he reminded her curtly, clearly not used to explaining himself and only doing so because he knew she’d rocket to the moon on the fuel of her anger if he didn’t.
“You can’t circumvent justice,” Sibyl pointed out impatiently. “The police will deal with them.”
“The police can have them after I’m done with them.”
Her eyes widened before she asked, “What do you mean to do?”
“It’s none of your concern.”
Sibyl stiffened to the approximate pliability of a two by four.
“Excuse me?” she whispered angrily. “But my rich and powerful boyfriend is threatening vigilante justice and it’s none of my concern? I beg to differ.”
His hands tightened on her waist and the ice shards in his eyes polarised. “One of them stood in front of me and held a knife to your throat while I was powerless to do a thing. He touched you, and no one touches you, no one but me. He yanked your goddamned hair, the most beautiful hair I’ve seen in my life, using it to cause you pain.” He was using his low, even voice and she knew he was very close to losing control.
Sibyl also knew every minute, every sound, every word, everything he saw and experienced last night was seared into his memory. She knew it at his words. And last night for brief moments in time, Colin Morgan had been powerless. Men like Colin were not used to being powerless and it dawned on Sibyl, belatedly, that he did not like it.
At all.
He continued, “I’m going to find them, have a chat with them to express how unhappy the events of last night made me and then I’ll turn them over to the proper authorities.”
“You won’t hurt them?” Sibyl asked quietly, hoping the lowering of her tone would soothe him.
It didn’t.
“Are you asking for mercy for a man who put a knife to your throat and has you wound up so tight you fly through the house in a panic when I do something innocent and absolutely normal, like leave you alone in bed?” he demanded in exasperation.
Putting it that way, she had to admit, it sounded rather silly.
She decided she better stop talking.
He sighed an enormously patient sigh before saying, “I promise I won’t hurt them…” She began to smile, “unduly.” Her smile turned to a frown.
“You frighten me when you’re like this,” she told him and his face shifted but he did not relent.
“I’m trying to make it so you’ll never be frightened again,” Colin explained.
“But –”
He cut her off to inform her, “I’m going to do this, Sibyl, whether you like it or not, so I suggest you accept it because it’s going to happen.”
She blinked at his words and his tone then muttered, “You’re ruthless.”
At her comment, he leaned closer and his hands slid over her bottom and then suddenly down to grasp the backs of her thighs, lifting her up. She gave a shocked gasp and had to clamp her thighs around his hips and hastily grab his shoulders for support as he carried her to the desk.
“Yes,” he agreed amiably, all his mood gone, “I am.”
He settled her bottom on the desk and Bran scattered. Colin kept himself determinedly positioned between her legs as he tilted her chin up with one hand and his other hand drew lazy circle on the top of her thigh.
“Now, what shall I do about your morning mood?” he asked conversationally, gently rubbing his thumb across her lower lip.
“I take it we’re done talking,” she guessed.
“Oh, we’re definitely done talking,” he stated, his voice sexy low and she knew what that meant and she also knew, acutely how it made her belly feel.
“My family –” she started to say but his lips took hers in a slow, soft, mind-numbing kiss.
When he was done, against her lips he murmured, “For a daughter born of Mags, you’re amazingly prissy.”
Her eyes flared. “I am not prissy.”
“Prove it,” he dared on a whisper.
“You aren’t going to goad me into –”
He moved into her and she was forced to lean back, resting her hands behind her on his desk as his hands slid inside the t-shirt and up the skin of her back, sending shivers through her against her will and he quieted her by kissing her. This was not soft or slow but hard and demanding and she couldn’t help but respond.
So she did.
Many minutes later, her breath coming fast, her hands buried in his hair, his lips at her neck, her body throbbing, his hands spread her legs further apart and his fingers expertly delved inside her panties.
Her head rolled back.
And there was a knock on the door.