He cupped her chin and guided her gaze to his. “No. Isabelle, this was not your fault in any way. Don’t even go there. I know it’s hard. I’m trying not to go there either. I keep thinking there should’ve been some way to stop this from happening and I feel guilty I didn’t—”

“There was nothing you could’ve done—”

“Exactly, Isabelle. There was nothing either of us could’ve done.” He stared into her eyes for several heartbeats, his vehement words echoing through her mind.

Isabelle pulled from him and walked away a few paces. He was right. Plus, they didn’t have the luxury of wallowing, not if they had any chance of finding Boyle and protecting future victims.

“I know,” she answered. “We need to concentrate on the task at hand and not dwell on might-have-beens. Boyle will kill again and this needs to be about those targeted witches, not us.” Sorrow for Brandon and Mary clogged her throat and made the words come out husky. Because of the moisture memory, she almost felt like she’d known them.

“Yeah. That means sleep so that we can function at our best. We both need to get some of it. It’s late and we have a long day ahead of us.”

She snorted and turned toward him. “Sleep? That’s not something I’ll be getting much of tonight.”

He sighed in defeat. “Yeah, me neither. Drink?”

“Definitely.” She considered the options. “I have some great peppermint tea in my room.”

“Tea? I was thinking bourbon, whisky, or scotch. Hell, maybe tonight all three at once.”

“Are you afraid drinking peppermint tea will hurt your manly image?”

His lips twisted. “Only if you serve it in tiny china teacups and make me raise my pinky when I sip it.”

“I won’t do that, but I will put lemon in it.”

“I can hardly wait,” he answered in a dry tone. He motioned toward the stairs. “Lead the way.”

Once in her room, she poured two mugs of steaming hot water from the purified water dispenser, plunked a couple of peppermint tea bags in each one, and then finished them off with the highly anticipated lemon wedges.

Thomas sat sprawled on the couch in the sitting room, looking too big for the small area. He had one long leg extended and one arm thrown up on the couch back. His silky hair cascaded down one shoulder and he’d unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt. She could see a bit of smooth, fine muscled chest beneath. Even though she tried to suppress her reaction to him, her mouth watered.