I slice my chin to the left. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Why not?”
I cup her chin and bare my fangs. “There is nothing I’d like more than to be inside you right now, little dragon, but not like this. Not when you’re so distracted with grief you can’t think straight. I am a male of honor. You’re grieving. You need rest and to eat. I will not take what you don’t have to give.”
She slides her hands up my chest. Gently I take her wrists and press her palms together inside my own. “Shower, Eloise,” I say again, and this time it’s a command. “There’s something I have to do. I’ll be back to watch over you soon.”
Her face changes, growing suspicious. “What?”
“Maeve is downstairs. She wants to… talk.”
“I should—” She moves for the door, but I stop her.
“Please.” I place a kiss on her forehead. “Get ready for bed. I will return to you.”
This time she nods, although I can see the conversation isn’t over. My little dragon will not give up so easily, which means I have only a few minutes to deal with the witch downstairs. I back through the door, meld into the shadows in the corner of the room, and manifest in the kitchen across the table from the Gowdie witch.
Maeve glares at me over a cup of something steaming and dark, the only sound that of the shower running above us on the second floor. When she speaks, she gets straight to the point. “Why are you here, Advocate? You’ve served your purpose and met the terms of your agreement with Eloise. She did not light the candle to call you again.”
“No. She didn’t light the candle, but anyone could have heard her cries. Why did you allow her on her knees in the cold and dark? Why didn’t you care for her?”
Her cup clanks onto her saucer. “I don’t have to answer to you.”
I unbutton the top button of my shirt and pull it aside to reveal the space over my heart, now free of the Gowdie tattoo. “Nor I to you.”
Terror flashes through her expression, and she darts up and around the back of her chair, ready to bolt. Her hands fly up in what I can only assume is the start of a defensivespell. I snatch them out of the air and hold them in my grip, bringing my face close to hers.
“Please. If I meant to kill you, the table would be a minor inconvenience. And I would have done so before you knew I was free from the candle’s hold.”
Her eyes grow wide. “How did you do it?”
“The candle burned out,” I say simply. After all, wasn’t that the promise she and her ancestors had always made me?
Her jaw clenches. “What exactly happened to the candle, Advocate?”
I extend my fangs in a growl. “My name is Damien Hymir, prince of the Kingdom of Stygarde, and I am no advocate of yours, Maeve Gowdie. The only reason your life isn’t in danger is Eloise. She loves you, and I won’t give her one more thing to grieve tonight. I’d prefer we move forward civilly.”
Her expression softens, but not with empathy. It’s pity I see in those dark depths that serve as eyes. “You love her.”
“My feelings for her are none of your concern.” Roughly, I release her wrists and back against the yellow counter, studying the spider plant that hangs from a crocheted sling beside the sink.
“None of my concern? I can practically smell the mating scent coming off you. You’ve had her blood, multiple times I bet. You’re not a vampire, but you’re enough like one for me to draw some conclusions. You’ve bound yourself to her.”
I rejoice in my ability not to answer her. I don’t owe the witch an explanation.
“You’re playing with fire.” She shakes her head, her words coming through gritted teeth. “You’ve known about the tattoo from the beginning. If there’s any vestige of magic in herblood?—”
I narrow my eyes. “Wasn’t it you who led me to believe she was human?”
“As far as I know, she is,” Maeve snaps defensively. “But then who destroyed the candle? And don’t give me any bullshit about it burning down. You and I both know it was enchanted so the flame could never reach the end of its wick.”
The creak of floorboards draws our attention to the hallway. Eloise stands there, dressed in nothing but her pink bathrobe, hair soaking wet. I’ve been so wrapped up in this thing with Maeve, I didn’t hear the water shut off. I can feel her presence now, though. Her grip on the doorframe and the tension in her jaw communicate only one thing—FURY.
36
Just Sex then
DAMIEN
