Honeysuckle wafted around him as she leaned close to look at the side of his head. But that vision of her in that old-time kitchen wouldn’t leave his head. That and the knowing smile she’d sent him that spoke of familiarity on a personal level. An intimate level.
Shards of heat ricocheted everywhere she touched, sending a tingle down his spine that left him more off-kilter than before. “This looks like it’s finally scabbed over,” she said. “I know daemons heal quickly, but…well, you are not what I expected.”
Neither was she. Whatever she was doing to him, though, he was about to put a stop to it.
He grasped her wrist, ignored the heat that flared beneath his fingers. “I want…answers.”
Another jolt of déjà vu rippled through him. She looked down where he held her, and something akin to shock washed over her face. Then she pulled her hand free with a quick snap of her wrist, a motion that told him she was stronger than she appeared, and pushed to her feet. “You need food. We’ll talk after you eat.”
Screw that.
He’d never fainted in his life. Couldn’t believe he’d done so now, especially in front of her. Whatever she was—witch, sorceress, immortal—she was playing some kind of mind fuck on him. Getting him to see and feel things that weren’t real. His mother had been Medean. He’d studied her craft, knew how to cast spells himself when the time was right, and was well aware of the power the dark arts could harness. He wasn’t about to be manipulated by this female, in any way.
He pushed to his feet. Before she reached the end of the hall, he flashed in front of her, bringing her feet to a dead stop.
Surprise lit her eyes. Confusion followed quickly on its tail. Argonauts could only flash in Argolea. In the human realm they were limited to the same laws of nature as humans. But not him.
She dropped her supplies, eased back. “What…? How did you do that?”
“I’m full of surprises.” He took a step toward her.
She moved back more. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’ve had a shitty day and I’m tired of the head games.” Her back hit the wall. He knew his eyes were glowing green, illuminating the dark hallway around them, but he didn’t force his daemon back as he normally would. Right now he needed its strength. “I want answers, and I want them now.”
He pressed a hand against the wall and leaned in close. Until the heat from her skin slid over his and the beat of her heart was all he could hear. “I want to know who the hell you really are. And I want to know what your being here has to do with me.”
Chapter 4
Skyla wasn’t one to back down from a fight. But she’d seen the damage Orpheus could do in his daemon form. And this close, if he changed, there’d be no time for her to reach her weapons.
His hot breath washed over her ear, slithered down her neck, sent tingles racing along her spine. Tingles that warred with the danger she should be feeling. He smelled like the grapefruit shampoo she picked up a few days ago, and this close he was bigger than she’d realized, all muscle and sinew.
From the moment he’d followed her back to the run-down apartment she’d taken while she’d searched for him, she’d been overly aware of him. Of his size, of his movements, of the raw masculinity he radiated every moment. And she couldn’t stop thinking about the power he’d wielded out there in the trees. Not just the way he’d decimated those daemons, but the way he’d put himself between her and danger. The way he’d tried to get her to leave. The way he’d told the other female to run.
What kind of daemon did that? Not one she’d ever met.
Her skin heated. That ache—the one she couldn’t explain—slid from her stomach to settle between her legs. She’d used sex in the past to get close to a target, but this was different. This was her reacting to him instead of the other way around.
“I’m waiting,” he said.
Good gods, what was wrong with her? He was manhandling her and she was getting turned on? This so wasn’t the way she worked.
As she fought the strange reaction, she looked up into glowing green eyes. Eyes that slowly faded to gray as they stared down at her. Eyes not of a daemon, but of a man. Eyes that hypnotized her on a level she’d not experienced in over two thousand years.
She knew right then that no matter what he said or how he used his size or daemon to try to intimidate her, he wouldn’t hurt her. If he’d wanted to, he’d have done it back in the woods. He wouldn’t have saved her.
“Female, it’s time you tell me—”
“Skyla.”
“What?”
Her gaze slid to his mouth—a mouth she was suddenly tempted to taste. “My name is Skyla.”
“Your name isn’t what I want right now.”
Heat thrummed in her veins. She stared at his lips. Firm and masculine. Licked her own. Kissing implied intimacy, and intimacy was something she’d learned long ago to avoid. But the need to touch him, to taste him, was right there, pulsing along her nerve endings, teasing her control. She followed the strong curve of his chin, and finally the delectable jawline. “What do you want, daemon?”