So he wanted to play nice now? She jerked her wrists, hands splayed upward, to remind him of his manners. “Do you tie up all your guests?” Frustrated when he made no move to untie her, she thumped her fists against the arms of her chair. “And I am not your darlin’.”
Something flashed in his eyes. Just for a moment. Just a flicker of emotion, was it pain? Regret? She couldn’t quite say, but it was quickly masked by a charming fa?ade. His grin blossomed fully. The sight of it made her catch her breath. “I only tie up the ones that like to throw things.” He waited a beat, and then he winked at her. Actually winked. “And the ones who ask for it, of course.”
“Untie me. I promise I won’t throw anything else,” she said with enough sweetness to guarantee a mouthful of cavities.
“I think we’ll talk first. Get to know each other a little better, what do you say?”
“A name would be a good place to start,” she suggested, trying to figure out the best angle.
“Forgive me.” He bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Where are my manners? I’m Gideon.”
“Gideon what?”
“Just Gideon. One name’s all I need.”
Oh, he was pouring the charm on thick now. Not that it would do him any good. Then another thought occurred to her. Maybe she could use this to her advantage. The sperm donor may not have taught her how to fight, but that didn’t mean she was helpless. She had a quick mind. She could figure a way out of this.
“You want to talk, so talk,” she coaxed, softening her tone. She could pour on the charm too. “What are you?”
“I figured you knew the answer to that already.” His chin dipped. “I’m a demon. The Demon of Temptation, to be exact. Well, former Demon of Temptation, at any rate.”
The heat of his gaze sent a shiver of awareness skating up her spine. But his words caught her off guard. Frowning, she argued, “No, you’re not.”
“I am Temptation,” he insisted. Clearly, she’d offended him somehow.
“I’m not disputing the temptation part,” she said. He grinned then, all kinds of sexy. Maggie scowled in response and forged on. “It’s the demon part I don’t believe. I would feel it if you were. So what are you? Really?”
The sensual playfulness drained from his features. He was all business now. “Feel it? Feel what?”
She chewed on the inside edge of her lip. How much should she tell him? How much would it take to get him to trust her, to let her go?
“I can feel evil, and good. I can feel when someone intends harm. It’s like a…a sixth sense.” She snapped her wrists against the restraints. “Though, obviously, it isn’t always…reliable.”
“Then you know I don’t intend to hurt you.” Statement, not question, as he ignored her less than subtle reminder. Why wasn’t he questioning her honesty? Why wasn’t he doubting her claim? Or her sanity?
And then a deeper truth hit her. He was right. Unless her instincts were wrong yet again. He did not intend her any harm.
But he also claimed to be demon. Yet he didn’t feel like a demon.
Why couldn’t she read him like she could all the others?
She pressed, “If you don’t intend to harm me, then why tie me up?”
“Because you needed to calm down long enough for me to talk to you. And because you need to stay here. With me. For your own safety. I need to know you’re not going to try to sneak off on your own.”
“Why? Why do I need to stay with you?”
“I’ve been charged with protecting you. For the time being, at least.”
“Protect me? From what?” What’s Michael up to now?
“Look, I’ll tell you everything. But it’ll help me to know what you know so I know where to start.”
She blinked at him. Was this a trick?
Instincts. It all came down to her instincts. And, as with earlier at the nightclub, her instincts were telling her she could trust him, abduction and restraints notwithstanding.
“I know who, and what, Michael is,” she finally allowed, grudgingly.
“And do you know what you are?”
Puzzled, she frowned at him. “Of course I do. I’m Maggie.”
“I said what, not who. You are a Halfling.”
“Oh, that,” she said flatly. She vaguely recalled Michael mentioning that term. But she’d been too dazed by his sudden appearance and declaration to pay much attention. Add to it the stunning moment he’d laid his hands upon her head and the wall of dizzying heat that had slammed into her like a freight train and, well, scientific—or biblical—names just hadn’t ranked up there on her list of details to make note of.
“So you know you’re a Halfling, and that your fath—Michael,” he quickly amended when her eyes narrowed, “is an angel. Like you, I have special…gifts. I sense power. And you’re near to bursting at the seams with it. Yet you still refuse to believe I’m a demon?”
“Correct. You don’t give off the same vibe as the other demons I’ve come across.”