Bittersweet Magic (The Order #2)

“Good idea. Anyway, I needed my Key back, and you were my only lead. I thought you might take me to it, and so here I am.”


Piers had the distinct impression that there was something, if not a few things, that she wasn’t telling them. But the story made sense. One thing he didn’t like was the coincidence in two people searching for this Key at the same time when it had been safely hidden for a thousand years. But maybe it wasn’t coincidence at all. He poured himself another drink and studied her. She was back to impassive, the emotion gone from her features. She appeared so young and innocent. It was hard to believe she was more than five hundred years old, had lived countless lives. She’d been under the protection of a demon all that time and yet still retained a sweetness that was palpable. Mind you, she could also drink like a fish and was as tough and fearless as anyone he’d ever met. He still couldn’t believe she’d been faking being under his control—though she hadn’t faked those orgasms or her near desperation earlier. She wanted him.

“Do you sleep with this demon?” He wasn’t quite sure where the question had come from, but he leaned forward, waiting for the answer.

“Mind your own goddamned business.”

“I’m guessing no, and you know why?”

“No, and I’d really rather you didn’t bother me with your pathetic theories.”

He ignored her. “Because, darling, you wouldn’t have come on to me quite so strongly if you weren’t so desperate.”

“Piers, you’re a pig.” It was Tara who spoke. Roz was too busy glaring at him.

Hell, he’d been called worse things.

The truth was he’d almost forgotten the others were still in the room.

Christian pushed back his chair and stood up. “I think it’s time we left.”

Roz glanced around as everyone rose to their feet except him. “So am I free to go?” she asked.

Piers opened his mouth to say no, but Christian beat him to it. “Why don’t you stay here for a while, at least. As a guest of the Order.”

“Well, I’ve not been too impressed by the guest facilities so far.”

Christian glanced at him, one eyebrow quirked.

“She’s been in the cells.”

Christian shook his head. “Ever the gentleman.” He turned to Roz. “We have guest quarters above ground. They’re very comfortable.”

“And I’m not a prisoner. I can come and go?”

Well, you can come, and frequently, Piers wanted to say. On the other hand, going wasn’t an option. But maybe he’d leave that bit of information for now. “Why don’t you stay a while, work with Jonas, identify this demon, and we might be able to get him off your back without finding this Key. Jonas can also tell you something about what goes on here and maybe what you are and what you can do.”

“Okay, I’ll stay.”

“I’ll show you to the guest quarters,” Tara said. “Get you settled in.”

Piers almost protested at that—he wanted to get her settled in—but Roz was looking a little dazed. Maybe she needed time to adjust to what was happening, and he had things to do. Trying to locate Andarta, for one.

Roz nodded, her relief obvious. He got up and followed her to the door, halting her with a hand on her arm as she was about to follow Christian and Tara out. He leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “I’d like that vibrator back—any relief you get is going to come from me.”

She shot him a filthy look. “Piss off.”





Chapter Ten


Roz’s mind was reeling.

She was immortal.

The Order had no plans to kill her. They would never have killed her. But her father’s people might. Whoever he was. She’d told the truth; she only had the vaguest of memories of him.

She gave Tara a quick sideways glance. Tara was half-fae, and she reminded Roz of the few hazy memories she had of her father. He’d been blond, with green eyes, just like Tara. But maybe that was something all the fae shared.

Except her. She’d gotten her looks almost exclusively from her mother.

She swayed and balanced herself with a hand flat to the cool wall. There was too much to take in; plus she reckoned she’d drunk about half a bottle of scotch in there, and she was feeling the effects.

Lack of sleep.

Worry.

Scotch.

Relief.

All were milling together in her mind.

She had an overwhelming urge to lie down in a darkened room and pass out. Soon, she promised herself.

“Come on,” Tara said from beside her. “You look about ready to keel over.”

Yeah, that about summed it up.

She glanced at the other woman curiously. This was Asmodai’s daughter—it was hard to believe. Impossible, really. Tara was about her height—which was no height at all. She had bright blond hair cut in a blunt bob and grass-green eyes, which were returning Roz’s inspection.

She grinned. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“That I’m half-demon. I take after my mother. Come on, we’ll get you settled in the guest quarters, then you can have half an hour asking questions—I can see you’ve got tons. I was the same.”