Midnight simmered all evening, his mood a direct opposite to what it had been most of the day. Every word was snappy, a genuine pain in Tabby's ass. She knew why, even if he hadn't bothered bringing it up again, she knew he waned to. He was angry that she hadn't shared the real motivation behind her selfish plight. It clearly struck a nerve.

"Out with it," she finally said, not bothering to look up at his glower.

He growled. Then, as if he'd been waiting for her invitation, snapped, "You could have told me—should have told me."

He sat at the sofa while she sat at the table, oiling Nit. The little bugger cooed with every caress. "It wouldn't have made a difference," she mumbled, shooting him a quick glance. It was late. They'd gotten meat pies from Marley's and stuffed themselves full, taking advantage of a bottle of gin she'd found in Elias's bedroom. Not enough to get shit-faced, but...she felt good. Midnight, on the other hand, was being a buzz kill.

"Doesn't matter. You still should have told me." Sensing her lack of desire to argue, he switched tactics. "What will you do with the information?"

Her movements were slow, deliberate. She finished with Nit, setting her things down. "Haven't decided yet." That wasn't true. She'd spent hours, painstaking hours, thinking about it, obsessing over it, running through possible options. "Maybe I'll kill the bastard. Hurt him. Ask him why he was so fucked up. Why he sacrificed me to a fate worse than death? Or all of the above? Guess I'll cross that bridge when I get there."

"I've often wondered if you blamed him."

"For just about everything? Yeah."

Midnight fell silent, gazing at the stove. The coals had burned down to embers.

"What?" she said again.

He didn't look at her when he next spoke. "Do you blame me?"

She stilled. "Why? Should I?"

A grunt, then—"I made you what you are."

That earned a snort. "Get a grip, Midnight. You did what you had to. We both did. My father gave me up as clay. The Spectrum was the potter's wheel."

"And I—the hands that shaped you."

"I like your hands," she said, sweetly, looking over at him, recalling exactly where those skilled hands had touched her. Thinking back on exactly what they'd done mere hours ago before Steiner had come to call. They'd taken every opportunity between their bouts of sleep to enjoy each other. She'd had more orgasms today than she could count on five fingers. He didn't fall for the bait, though. Instead, his expression was unreadable. She sighed, turning serious, and added, "Don't take the blame for what they forced upon us. You don't deserve it."

"How can I not?" He looked at her then. His throat bobbed. "I'm responsible for it. I tried to make it easier for you," he said, voice low. "But I knew that every ounce of mercy I showed you would soften you. Too soft and the clay never takes form. The Spectrum has no use for malformed property. Which of course would have meant losing you. That, also, would have been my fault."

Discarding her apron, she went to the couch and straddled his hips, pushing herself as close as possible, feeling him harden beneath her. It felt forbidden to behave like this, even though things had changed between them. Delightful as it was, she still wasn't used to it.

His fingers crept beneath the hem of her suede corset, brushing against her spine. "Hmm. I like this thing," he murmured, distracted.

She kissed him, pushing his head back, teasing him with her tongue, pulling on his bottom lip. "You made me strong," she said. "You made me what I needed to be. The last thing I want is your guilt, Theo. Let it go."

Perhaps it was the sound of his name on her lips. Or perhaps it was her urging him to drop it. He breathed against her lips, then tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her mouth harder against his. They didn't talk much after that. Tomorrow the real work would begin. But tonight...tonight was for them.

He lifted her and pawed at her pants, undoing the ties. Their lips met in-between his movements. She put her back to him and let him fuss with her corset ties. Nit took this as a cue and fluttered off somewhere, even though she hadn't finished oiling them. She turned to Midnight and dragged his tunic over his head. Their breathing heightened. Their kissing turned frantic. She clawed at his pants and he kicked them away. Eager, she swept the table clear, not caring for the items that clattered to the floor, and placed her hands on the surface with her back to him.

"No," he said, voice rough. She froze. His command was harsh—unexpected. "Not like that."

She whirled to face him and found him, brows drawn tight, confused. One look at his face and she realized what he was thinking. Of all the times he'd mercilessly fucked her on her hands and knees. And she wondered if he would ever do so again.

"I won't mind if we do," she whispered, a slight teasing to her voice.

"No. Not...not tonight." His expression hardened, so she saved him from the memories he clearly wanted to escape, by sitting on the table facing him. She scooted back, legs spread wide in invitation, and flashed him a wicked smile.

His moment of uncertainty disappeared, gaze darkening as his eyes dropped to the wetness between her legs, fixed there. He stalked towards her, taking her ankles and pulling her back to the table's edge. He knelt then and disappeared between her legs. She cried out, tangling her fingers in his hair. His tongue stroked the length her opening and her head fell back. He hummed, pleased. The sound of his voice against her set her core on fire. She clenched a fistful of his hair pulling hard, knowing it would be painful. But he only growled again before standing and pushing her back flush against the table, keeping a hand on her to hold her down.

He paused, towering over her, looking at her. She melted at the sight of him, at the wanting she saw in his expression. "Theo..." The sound of his name on her lips had him leaning over her, one arm braced beside her shoulder. He kissed her as he guided his tip across her slit.

She groaned against his lips. "Stop teasing me."

"Oh? Is that what I'm doing?" But he stopped and plunged inside of her. She exhaled at the feel of him. He pulled back and slid into her again. Harder this time. As hard as she knew he was capable of. A cry escaped as her body clenched. He held himself above her, watching her squirm beneath him with each thrust. Her head rolled to the side, exposing her neck. He nipped her there, pulling at her skin with his teeth.

Soon her breath turned into ragged gasps as the heat between her legs reached its peak. "Theo..."

He cried out then, whispering her name, pounding into her, never taking his eyes from hers, wrapping them in ecstasy as her orgasm shook her. Then he picked her up from the table and carried her to bed, where they did it all over again.

***

"Heads up, we've got company." Nit's warning jolted her out of sleep. It wasn't quite dawn. Nit sent images from their vantage point above the building, of shadowed figures creeping through the alley, towards the escape ladder leading to the roof. Spects would easily outmatch The Forsaken if any were standing guard. But they sounded an alarm. She recognized the bells ringing, clanging nearby.

She jolted upright, prodding Midnight. "Wake up," she hissed. "We've got company." Trained assassin that he was, he shed sleep as easily as a cloak, jumping from the bed, throwing on clothes, strapping on his belt, his knives, with quick precision. She did the same, making sure to slide her ray gun into the holster she'd fashioned. It was a cheap way out, but she took it anyway, just in case.

Grogginess was replaced with calm alertness. It took practice—to wake so quickly, ready for anything. Years of Midnight sneaking up on her while she slept. He would come in through the window and vault over to her bed, quick as a cat. She'd wake to daggers, swords, darts, and all manner of weapons posed to kill. Until Nit. After that, she merely pretended to sleep as he crept in. Then she'd jump from her bed and grapple with him, creating a ruckus that Elias pretended not to hear—never mentioned the following morning. She got so good, Midnight was convinced she possessed some kind of additional sense. To which she perpetuated the ability. But he left her alone after that, convinced that this portion of her training was complete.

"How many? Where?" He checked the prisms in his belt and those he wore in his leather bracers.

She paused, tapping into Nit's consciousness again, cocking her head to the side, eyes blurry and unfocused as she watched and counted. "Six, I think?" He swore. "All Spects, masked. Four are headed to the roof." She hesitated, contemplating. "I don't want them in the shop, Midnight. Roof. Now," she barked and he followed without complaint.

They raced upstairs. She led the way, quickly disabling the dart and bursting through the roof door, well aware that the Spects had only set foot on the opposite side of the flat rooftop. "I'll take the two on the left," she said, beating Midnight to the claim.

"Fine," he said, his voice lazy, like this did this all the time. And in a way, they did, but only in training. They moved together, back to back. "Keep your guard up," he warned, typical. "I'll cover your back. Strike to disable, not to kill. I want to question them. I've seen what you're capable of."

"Right back at you."

She could sense, rather than see, his smile. A thrill shot through her, like electric charges skittering over her skin. There wasn't a nervous bone in her body. She was thrilled, eager, ready. After suffering at Reaper's hands, this would be a breeze. But she also wasn't stupid enough to underestimate them. So she exhaled, prism daggers in hand, calming her mind and splitting her focus. Most of it would remain on her opponents, but some of it syphoned off to Nit, who flew above, keeping a watch in places she couldn't.

Midnight radiated calm confidence. His breathing slow and steady. She'd never fought beside him quite like this, when the stakes were so high. He worked alone, insisted upon it. While he'd accompanied her on many assignments in her younger years, he never stepped in. If she was near dead enough to need it, then she'd failed anyway. Fear always kept that from happening.

Well...except for the Stone Bridge Job. That had been an absolute shamble. He never really stepped in, per se, but he had darted her opponent from the shadows when her failure was plain, allowing her to deal the killing blow. And he'd fumed about it for days—that it had been necessary, that she'd been careless. It was roofs for an entire week after that. She still grimaced when she thought about it.

"This should be fun," she breathed, offering her opponents a ferrel smile. All male. Big surprise. Up close, she got a better look. They were tall, muscled, hooded. From beneath their cowls, she saw their three quarter masks plainly. Neither she nor Midnight had bothered with masks. Why should they?

They circled, weapons drawn, hands ready to call light the moment it was needed. "Traitors," the Spects hissed. "Filth."

Midnight made the first move, and the roof erupted into flashes of light and metal after that. Her opponents lunged for her. She moved carefully, purposefully hesitating before stepping out of reach. As a female, her best weapon was their underestimation of her. Midnight taught her that when she was young, to sieze every tool possible when fighting. To learn her opponent. To calculate. That's exactly what she did.

She could sense him behind her, pairing his color magic with his movements, but she maintained focus, keeping a birds-eye view framed in a small corner of her mind. It made fighting easier. She could see the way her opponents moved from an additional vantage point. So she noticed when one sent a dagger flying. A burst of violet light from her belt pushed it away and sent it skidding across the roof.

Two new pairs of feet emerged from the roof door, having broken in through the workshop and worked their way up. "Incoming," she warned Midnight. His grunt was his only response.

Were they simply dealing killing blows, they'd have been done already. Instead, she was forced to drain her opponents prisms, leaving them vulnerable. Then she would slash at their legs, or in one case, a well-aimed kick at a knee cap that left one crumbling over in angry snarls. She should have asked Steiner to teach her the glaring light trick with his white prism. She would have disabled all of them. And created a burst of light for the city to see, drawing far more attention than they already were.

Besides, this was more satisfying—and honest.

As it was, it took ten minutes before all six were sprawled on the ground, attempting to crawl to safety. Midnight kept them down. She didn't so much as wince as he broke a leg here, shattered an ankle there. He was ruthless. None of them would be walking off the roof anyway. A couple, he knocked out cold.

She stood, chest heaving, watching has he did the rest. He worked with pure efficiency that she admired and respected. She hated to admit that the sight of him working left warmth pooling between her legs. Those brutal hands of his were nothing but pleasurable when they were on her.

When he pulled the Spects together, propping them against the roof wall facing the alley, she knew what would come next. He turned to her. "You should go back downstairs, Tabby," he said, voice low. "I'll handle the rest."

"I'm not weak."

His gaze lingered over her before he nodded, then turned to the Spects, still conscious. "What were your orders?" he demanded of them.

"Piss off, traitor. You and your little bitch there are a disgrace to the Spectrum," one of them said, spitting at his feet. Midnight landed a well-aimed kick to the Spect's nose, shattering it.

"What about you?" he asked, turning to the other. "Have you got a few choice words you'd like to share? I'm listening."

"We were sent to bring you in."

"By?"

"Who do you think?"

"Ghost?"

"The one and only." The Spect's grin was calculated. "Wait till he gets his hands on you."

Midnight ignored the taunt. "What's your name?" he asked instead.

"Vile."

Midnight nodded. "Good. Die with honor, Vile." The Spect nodded in thanks. Midnight didn't hesitate. He shot forward and slashed Vile's throat, killing him in seconds.

"He was a coward," barked the Spect beside Vile, who now slumped over. "You'll find some of us are better than others."

"Have you anything to add before I take a few fingers and toes."

"You got your answer."

"Yes, but since you didn't give anything useful, I'm not inclined to give you a quick death. Maybe I'll take a few appendages from all of you. See how the Spectrum treats you after that."

"Do your worst."

Midnight took that as invitation enough and set to work. And when the others woke up, he worked on them too.

Tabby's stomach roiled. Flashes of Reaper's dagger and the undercroft beneath the temple, came and went. She placed a hand over her abdomen as her breathing grew heavier and heavier, until she felt a bit of bile rising in her throat. She swallowed it down, determined. She was stronger than this, wasn't she?

One of them screamed as Midnight removed an ear.

No. No, she wasn't. Not anymore.

"Go downstairs, Tabby." She didn't realize Midnight had stopped, was watching her.

She wanted to argue, but she feared that opening her mouth would spill vomit all over the roof, so she fled and vomited into the bucket in her room, quickly disposing of it.

While Midnight was working on the roof, she fitted a mechanimal messenger sparrow with a note for Steiner and sent it on its way. Steiner appeared thirty minutes later, tapping on the front door as she'd instructed. "Light," was all he said when he saw her pale face, blood specked clothes. He rushed inisde and she sealed off the door. "What the fuck happened?" he demanded, eyes still tracking over her body, looking for hurts.

"We were attacked. The Spectrum sent six. Midnight's still up there with them, taking out his...whatever it is he's looking for. Revenge? Anger?" She swallowed. "I tried to stay but couldn't take any more of it..." She shook her head, unable to finish.

"Well..." Steiner crossed his arms. "He's not going to be happy if I interfere."

"Put aside your pissing contest then—both of you. I don't want the bodies sitting up there and it's almost dawn. You brought the cart?"

"I did."

"Good, then get up there and end it."

"Fine." He nodded and disappeared up the stairs and to the roof. She filled a basin and cleaned herself up. "It's too early for this shit," she muttered, headache pounding from all the light pulling. And she hadn't even bothered with the gun or her black prism.

She closed her eyes, breathing in and out, willing her body to relax, pushing back the nausea still filling her. Reaper had changed her. He'd fixed something inside her, like setting a bone that was ready to begin healing. She would never be as she once was. She'd never be the same.