“Tayla—”
“No!” She bit her lip and looked at the guy, curled into a fetal position on the floor. “He’s not like Cole. Bleak is a new recruit. He was just following orders. He thinks I’m a . . .”
“Demon?”
“You bastard.”
“Yeah, I know. You can bitch at me later. Right now we have to get you someplace safe.”
She knew he was right, but it was a bitter pill to swallow. “I’ll get my stuff,” she grumbled. “Just one second. Do not kill Bleak.”
Forcing her lungs to fill with a calming breath, she picked up the phone from where it had fallen on the floor during the battle, and then she dialed with trembling fingers. Jagger answered his cell on the first ring. “Your welcome-home squad was a nice touch, Jag,” she said. “But you’ll have to do better than that if you want me dead. Now come pick up your trash.”
She hung up, aware that she’d just signed her own death warrant. But when she turned to Eidolon, his grin was blinding. He said something in a language she didn’t know, his eyes boring into hers. “You are magnificent.”
So was he. Magnificent beyond belief. And she was going home with him. The knowledge that she’d be so close to him in such an intimate environment unnerved her. Terrified her. Excited her.
“We need to go.” They needed to do it quickly, before Guardians showed up to kill her, and as she picked up Mickey, she knew there was no going back.
Sixteen
Eidolon’s apartment didn’t resemble anything even close to the dark, dank lair she’d expected. Then again, after seeing his car and how he dressed, she had no idea why she should have expected anything less than a Manhattan high-rise that probably cost more per month than she’d paid for her apartment in two years.
“This is so wrong,” she muttered, as she set her weapons bag and duffel on the floor.
Eidolon pulled Mickey out of his jacket pocket and closed his front door. “What is?”
“This. You should be living in a sewer or something,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction, because she’d seen more than foulness in him and it was getting harder and harder to hold on to her principles.
Especially since the people she’d believed shared her convictions had tried to kill her. Twice. Oh, and because she was a demon herself. Small details.
“I couldn’t find a sewer with a view.” He put Mickey down, along with his litter box.
“So where’s your dog? Did you eat it after all?”
“While you were packing I called the lady who walks him and asked if she could take the mangy thing for a few days. Wasn’t sure how he’d react to the weasel.”
Somewhere in the house, a grandfather clock chimed. “Mangy thing? Don’t like him much?”
“He keeps me company.” The words were casual, spoken with a shrug, but the underlying affection in his voice gave him away. He liked his mangy mutt.
He took her bags, and she followed him down the hall, complete with oil paintings of medieval castles and chateaus on the walls, to a bedroom. The room was huge, richly decorated in masculine shades of brown and burgundy. The four-poster bed had to be custom-made, larger than a king-size. How odd.
Then it struck her, and she bit off a gasp. The bed had been made to accommodate more than two people.
“This is your room,” she whispered. “I saw a guest room back there . . .”
He dropped the bags on the polished wood floor and in a flash, framed her face in his warm hands. “We’re beyond that.” He brought his head down to her neck, his lips caressing her skin. “You sleep with me.”
Like a real couple. Way too intimate. “I don’t want to.”
He inhaled deeply. “Don’t lie to me, Tayla. I can smell your desire.”
God, that sense of smell of his was a pain in the ass. “I need space.”
“The bed is big enough to give you that.”
“It’s big enough to give an entire cheerleading squad space.”
She felt him smile against her skin. “You almost sound jealous.”
“You’re delusional.”
“And you should get some rest.” He stepped back, surprising her, but one fingertip stroked her jaw line lightly. “You’ve had a hard day. If you want to shower, the bathroom is to the right. Robes are in the closet.” He cocked a dark eyebrow. “You didn’t really get into a fight with a Daeva, did you?”
“No.” God, what she wouldn’t give for this entire day to rewind and start all over. “Look, about the half-demon thing . . . what evidence do you have? Or are you screwing with me?” It was a measure of her exhaustion that she came right out and asked if he was lying to her, but the day had gone to hell in a handbasket, and she just wanted a straight answer.