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imagine Carolyn’s roommate looking through the peephole and pretending not to be home.
     
    Kirill nudged Jazzlyn to the side, so he was visible. Almost immediately there was the sound of a deadbolt retracting.
     
    Deana opened the door wearing a robe that looked like something taken from a lingerie photo shoot. It clung provocatively, emphasizing generous breasts and a thin figure. “I haven’t heard from Caro,” she said, directing the words at Jazzlyn though all of her attention was focused on Kirill.
     
    He took charge, saying, “Allow us in to search her room.”
     
    Deana stepped back, her eyes glazing over in lust—not that Jazzlyn could blame her. The timbre of Kirill’s voice had been enough to make molten desire run through her veins instead of blood, and a cloud of potent masculine pheromones descend to effect her breathing.
     
    “You can look at anything that catches your interest,” Deana said, practically eating Kirill with her eyes.
     
    Jealousy flared to life inside Jazzlyn, fierce and uncomfortable and unexpected. It screamed along her nerve endings, claiming He’s mine !
     
    The logical part of her shied away from it, denied it, only to be overridden by images of his hungry focus at Inner Magick. Of Aislinn talking about heartmate stones and perfect mates in the moments before the gems set in the mirror blazed liquid silver and dark blue.
     
    She couldn’t stop herself from checking Kirill’s expression to see if he was equally affected by Deana. He wasn’t. Or if he was, he was doing a good job of hiding it.
     
    Relief rushed into her. She blushed when his eyes met hers, his expression growing possessive and determined, as if he could see into her heart and read her doubts, and intended to eradicate them completely at the first opportunity.
     
    Her cunt spasmed, dampening her panties further. His nostrils flared in reaction and his eyes darkened from deep blue to the solid black of lust, reassuring her she was the one he desired.
     
    Deana’s hands on his chest ended the moment and reminded Jazzlyn of the task that had brought them here. She hated his being touched by another woman. But she took advantage of the distraction he provided even though primitive thoughts of breaking model-perfect fingers, hands and arms crowded her mind as she went to Carolyn’s room.
     
    Violent thoughts gave way to victorious ones as soon as Jazzlyn saw the battered music box on the nightstand. It was exactly the item she needed.
     
    Caro’s father had given it to her on her twelfth birthday, the year before he’d turned his back on his old family in favor of his new one. The music box had been broken more than once, hurled against the wall in anger and sadness. But each time, something inside Carolyn drove her to collect the pieces and have the box repaired.
     
    Seeing it saddened Jazzlyn. Her father left when she was nine, unable to “live a lie” any longer. In his case, not living a lie translated into coming out of the closest about being a gay man who’d tried to be a straight one.
     
    Jazzlyn sighed, wishing Carolyn could let go of the past, or at least understand how it played into her decisions when it came to men. She picked up the pillow and stripped the pillowcase off it.
     
    At least she understood her own motivations for trying to maintain a relationship with her cousin despite how little they had in common anymore. Old loyalties died hard. She might not be as painfully introverted and shy as she once was, but she remembered those earlier years with agonizing clarity. She wouldn’t have survived her first twelve years of school without Caro there.
     
    Jazzlyn carefully wrapped the pillowcase around the music box, trying not to touch the wood. It might not matter to Aislinn, she hadn’t said anything about not handling whatever they found, but Jazzlyn preferred safe to sorry.
     
    She turned to leave then realized she couldn’t, not yet. The thought of invading her cousin’s