“What the hell was that?” Sebastian barked. “Dude! Did you let some demon follow you to my place?”
“That was the Halfling. She’s renovating your kitchen. Next we’re moving to the living room. I’m sure she’d love to use your flat screen rather than my head as a target.”
“Harsh, dude. Harsh. Why is she tearing my kitchen apart?”
“Because I shimmered her without warning her first and she’s not too happy with me.”
“So pour on some of that legendary charm of yours and save what’s left of my kitchen, man.”
“Kind of hard to pour on the charm,” Gideon growled, “when every time I show my face, she tries smashing something into it.”
Raucous laughter poured through the line.
“Glad to hear you find this so amusing. I wasn’t kidding about that TV, you know?”
Sebastian’s mirth slowly wound down. “It’d be worth it! Finally, a woman who hasn’t fallen under your spell.”
“Glad you’re so fond of her. Here’s an idea. Get your ass home and you take care of her.”
“Can’t.” The sound of a plastic wrapper crinkled over the line. “I’m closing in on the professor. I think I finally pinned her down. Call Niklas or Xander.”
“Tried. They don’t want her in the same state as Kyanna or Carly. Worried she’ll draw too much heat.”
“They’re probably right.”
“That’s helpful,” Gideon snapped through gritted teeth.
“Careful.” Sebastian chuckled. “You’re going to give Xander a run for his money as the reigning king of sarcasm at that rate. Look, you’re just going to have to deal with her for a little while longer. Take her back to your place and keep her under wraps for a bit.”
“Yeah, so she can wreck my stuff?” Never mind that he’d already wrecked it.
“Tie her up,” Sebastian suggested unhelpfully.
Actually…
Gideon found the idea very appealing. More appealing than it should be. For far more reasons than protecting his home from her propensity to throw things.
“Look, dude, I gotta go. I’ll call when I have more information. Have fun.”
Gideon opened his mouth to protest, but the phone went dead before he could utter a sound.
Gideon glanced down at the phone in his hand and, growling, he struggled not to crush the slim device in his fist. That selfish, rotten, no-good, Garnoch-kissing bastard.
His anger at Xander and the others over abandoning him in his time of need distracted him. The sharp corner of something clipped his shoulder. Damn it, she’d drawn blood that time. Granted, the wound was shallow and would be gone in less than a few minutes, but still, she’d drawn blood.
Gideon scuttled to his left and pulled one of the ladder-backed chairs in front of him as a shield. He ground his teeth together. This was ridiculous. Women didn’t throw things at him. Well, unless it was intimate articles of clothing. Or themselves. His gaze skimmed her womanly body through the slats, and he began to wonder what kind of intimate undergarments she might choose for herself. She looked like a lace kind of girl. All sugar and spice. Black lace for sure. Maybe a little more spice than sugar.
Hmm…
Shocked by the very real tremors of the first true, burning lust he’d felt in longer than he cared to consider, Gideon berated himself.
No! Don’t go there. Not like you can do anything about it anyway. This is the last mission, remember? Then Oblivion. Focus!
Nettled frustration began to worm its way through his system. Frustration and no small amount of desperation. Not because he wanted her—wanted her as he hadn’t wanted another woman in…well, ever…wanted her more than he dared to admit even to himself—but because she was proving to be an aggravating, royal pain in the ass. Yeah, that was what had him frustrated, he assured himself, striving to ignore the thread of desperation worming its way through his system. She was a pain in the ass. Women didn’t throw cookware at him. Women loved him.
At least, they used to. Before he’d been cursed. And even after that, they’d still flirted outrageously with him, thrown themselves at him, though he was ever vigilant to never let them touch him—or not touch, as it were.
So maybe she had a right to be irate with him. He’d never shimmered a woman anywhere before. A tiny part of him suffered a sliver of guilt. Kyanna and Carly both had complained about the sensations shimmering caused. And he hadn’t warned Maggie about what he intended to do at all. How had he expected her to react?
A whisk whizzed past his ear. “What the hell are you?”
Sweet Christ! How many kitchen doodads did Sebastian seriously need? She was bound to run out of ammunition sooner or later…wasn’t she?
He heard another drawer rattle open. A handful of forks rained down upon his head, followed by spoons and butter knives.