Since he’d walked among humans most of his life, he had a fair working knowledge of their technology, so the mechanical aspects of driving weren’t a big deal. He normally wasn’t one to steal, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and he was anxious to get to Silver Hills and get this little job over with.
He slowed as he neared the town’s city limits and turned onto Main Street. A series of shops lined both sides of the street, while little banners announcing the annual Autumn Harvest Festival flapped in the wind from old-fashioned-patina light posts every two hundred feet. A few leaves desperate to hang on to summer clung to branches above the road, but their days were numbered. Mother Nature was in a foul mood, judging from the swirling black sky above, and she looked nearly ready to unleash.
It was, Theron suspected, the quintessential American small town. When he’d passed through here only days before, he hadn’t paid it much heed, but now he did. The gingerbread trim, the hand-painted signs, the dried hops strung around doors and wound into wreaths. Part of him wondered what the humans who lived here would do if they knew one of his kind lived among them.
His kind?
No. Not his kind. This time the woman he’d come to find was nothing more than a human with a little something extra. Something Isadora needed.
He parked the car halfway up Main Street and climbed out. Crisp air surrounded him as he headed down the sidewalk. The king had given him only a name—Acacia Simopolous—and told him of a store the woman’s family had run for the last twenty-odd years. He figured it was the best place to start.
A few cars were parked along the street, but there were surprisingly few humans roaming around for this time of day. All things considered, it was fairly safe. Daemons didn’t like to come out during the day, though that didn’t mean they wouldn’t. Scanning businesses he passed, Theron spotted his target.
A tingle ran over his spine, and he fleetingly thought of Casey again and wondered if he’d run into her on this trip.
He hoped not, for more reasons than the most obvious.
A “closed” sign swayed from a hook on the inside of the door. Theron peered into the shop and saw some of the lights were still on. Strange to be closing so early in the day, but what did he know of human behavior?
He decided to try the door. To his surprise, it pushed open.
A bell jingled above, and as he stepped inside he was immediately enveloped by warmth and scents of paper and vanilla wafting on the air.
“I’ll be right with you,” a female voice called.
Casey’s voice hit him like a punch to the gut, stealing the air from his lungs and nearly buckling his knees. The wicked attraction he’d felt for her at first sight erupted in his chest as he stepped farther into the store and saw her at the far end of an aisle of books, standing three steps up on a ladder, replacing leather-bound tomes on a high shelf. His body hardened with just one look, an urge to touch her soft skin, to feel her flesh against his, to finish what they’d started, as strong as it had been the night they’d been together.
But now that desire was overshadowed by the reality that he’d been wrong. This human—whom he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for three long days—was the woman he’d been sent to find.
The king’s long-lost daughter.
The lone woman who would save his race.
The one he would lead into certain death.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
She should have been shocked to see him again, but Casey was too numb to feel anything other than irritation at the interruption. “We’re closed early due to the weather.”
“I—” Theron cleared his throat. “I’m looking for Acacia Simopolous.”
He didn’t even know he was looking for her? Wonderful. Her day was sooo getting better.
“You found her.” She refocused on her task and shoved a book on the shelf harder than it needed. “And for the record, the only person allowed to call me Acacia is my grandmother, who, thanks for reminding me, is dead. Now, if that takes care of the reason you’re here, you can head right back out the way you came in.”
He let out what sounded to her like a frustrated breath. As if she cared.
“I’d like a few minutes to speak with you—”
She turned to flick a withering look his direction from above. “My friends call me Casey. Since you are neither a friend nor relative, you can call me Ms. Simopolous. Assuming, that is, you can remember my frickin’ name.”
When he continued to stare up at her with a befuddled expression, her last shred of patience broke. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. What the hell are you doing here, Theron? You made it perfectly clear the other night you didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”
“You remember that? I didn’t—”
“Trust me, buddy. I’d like nothing more than to forget I ever met you.”
“Acacia—”