Piers was still lying on the bed, amazingly sexy with the sheet just covering his thighs—like some Playgirl model. His streaky blond hair was loose about his shoulders. Now he sighed, running a hand through it. “Better than I’d like to,” he answered.
He pulled himself up and off the bed. Roz stopped what she was doing and watched—she couldn’t help herself—as he stalked naked across the floor and opened the wardrobe. He selected a pair of jeans and dragged them on, the soft denim clinging to the long lines of his legs. He rubbed a hand across his bare chest as he considered the contents, then took a blue shirt off the hanger. He pulled it on but left it hanging open. It was the exact same color as his eyes. Had he worn it on purpose because he knew she’d be mesmerized? Maybe the casual clothes were an attempt to appear more approachable, less scary.
He smiled as if he could read her thoughts and flashed her a fang-filled smile. Maybe he didn’t care how scary he was after all.
“You can’t read my mind, can you?” she asked.
“Not your mind, no. But your face—when you don’t attempt to hide what you’re feeling, well, your face can be very expressive.”
“And what’s my expression right now?” She wasn’t sure she was going to like this.
He shrugged. “You want me. And you can have me. But first…”
“First, we’ve got to see a demon.” She tugged her T-shirt over her head and smoothed it down, then found her jeans in the open doorway and pulled them on. Finally, her sneakers, and she was ready to go.
Piers was buttoning his shirt—pity.
…
They didn’t talk as he led the way from his apartment up a couple of floors in the elevator and along the corridor to his office. He could sense the people inside, and he had an almost irrational urge to turn around and go back.
He could still feel the buzz of her blood in his system, taste the unique sweetness of her. She’d opened for him more than he’d expected. He guessed she was feeling vulnerable right now, but who knew how long that would last before she turned back to her prickly self.
But they needed to decide on their next move. Andarta had the Key, and he had no doubt she would use it and would likely move fast. They had already taken enough time out.
What would be the first target? Earth or the Faelands? He was betting Earth, but all the same, he had to organize a meeting with the fae and let them know a demon had the means to open the portals to their world. They weren’t likely to be happy. Totally pissed off, in fact.
He hated dealing with the fae at the best of times. Fucking fairies, with their purity of blood crap that they spouted at every opportunity.
Also, he wanted to get the meeting with Asmodai over with. Then Roz would be free of the demon. As demons went, Asmodai was one of the better guys—at least when he made the effort to be—but he was still a demon and would have his own agenda.
Would he free Roz? And what would he ask in return? Because there was no doubt he would require something. Piers just hoped it was something he was free to give because he was giving it anyway—to hell with the consequences.
He stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“What?” she said, sounding almost like her old belligerent self. No doubt she was prepping herself for the coming meeting.
“Just this.” He leaned down—a long way down—and dropped a quick kiss on her slightly parted lips. “Let’s get this over with.” And he pushed open the door, feeling the rush of power from inside shiver across his skin. Too much power.
Christian was leaning against the far wall, Tara beside him. Across the room, Asmodai sat on the sofa—in his human guise—but he wasn’t fooling anybody. He watched Tara, a hungry, hopeful expression on his dark face.
Graham stood on the far side of the room, as far from the demon as he could get. Beside him, Carl leaned against the wall, and next to him was Roz’s policeman—Detective Ryan—with a slightly dazed expression on his face.
Roz ignored the demon and crossed to Ryan. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine—I think. What is this place? No one would tell me anything.”
“We have to decide what we’re going to do with you first,” Piers said, coming to stand beside her. He rested an arm across her shoulder. He hadn’t worked out what the relationship was between the two of them yet, but he wanted the policeman to know the score. Roz didn’t pull away, which pleased him.
“Shit, are you two a couple?” Ryan looked between them, his gaze lingering on the arm across her shoulders. Piers gave it a squeeze and stared the detective in the eye. He felt Roz stiffen.
“Cut the macho shit,” she growled, and he had to bite back his smile.
“Answer the question, Rosamund.” Asmodai’s voice came from behind them, low and dark, and energy rippled through the room. A palpable shiver ran across her skin, and Piers tightened his hold. “Are the two of you a couple?”
Piers released her shoulder and swung around. “What’s it to you?”
“She belongs to me,”
“Not for much longer.”
“And how do you work that out? I don’t see my Key anywhere—I’m presuming Andarta has it?”
“Yeah,” Roz replied.