Of course, it was. The Arc didn’t have to deal with thehellcat.
They both flashed to the basement. Michael put on his shades, shielding his fractured irises he never revealed to humans. Dagan willed the locks open and stepped inside. A bottle came flying at his head, drenching him before falling to the floor with athud.
“You locked me in this damn place, you-youbarbarian!”
The urge to gag her grew. His lips thinning, Dagan swiped the water off his face then followed the Arc to where she was, realizing he was no longer the focus of her ire. Her attention had shifted toMichael.
What was it about Michael that made the females go all gaga soft and shit? And not fight and scratch him? The Arc was dressed the same as he was, in leathers, but he wore one of his moth-eaten t-shirts, this one in a faded navy. Strands of hair had escaped his bunched ponytail, and a day’s stubble darkened hisjaw.
Suspiciously, she eyed the both of them. “Who are you people? What do you want fromme?”
The Arc lowered to his haunches as if that would make him less intimidating. She scooted back, pressing defensively against the wall behindher.
“I am Michael. I’m sorry that you are being held in our training quarters. I’d like to take you to a more comfortable place to talk. Can I trust you not to…throwthings?”
A faint flush tinted her skin. Was the wildcat embarrassed? Yeah,right.
She nodded. “Hello, Michael. It’s good to know some of the leather posse has manners.” She shot Dagan a dark look, her antagonism back inspades.
He didn’t react, merely watched her. If she was psionic, then her stubborn little ass was now Michael’sresponsibility.
“Good. Come.” In spite of Michael’s relaxed expression, Dagan sensed his amusement as he walked out of the arena. She followed him like some purring, happy little kitten. Clawshidden.
Dagan followed thehellcat.
She’d tied her jacket around her waist, revealing a black sleeveless top that exposed her pale, slender arms. As they took the stairs up, his gaze lowered past her short gray skirt to her long, sexy legs. On her feet, she wore a pair of battered, lace-up, steel-toed boots. Perhaps sensing his stare, she cut him a sharp look over her shoulder. He waited for her to say something, or to kick him down the stairway with those deadlyboots.
She did neither. Instead, she simply dismissed him with a toss of her head, her high ponytail flipping back and nearly whacking him in theface.
He followed her into the massive kitchen lined with oak cupboards and a gray granite counter. A center island separated the diningarea.
Shae stopped abruptly when she saw Hedori. Only Dagan’s quick reflexes saved him from crashing into her. He sidestepped her and crossed to the open doors, hoping the brisk air would clear his lungs of her fruity spicescent.
“That’s our butler,” Michael said. “Hedori, this isShae—?”
“Ion. ShaeIon.”
Their all-around handyman, butler, and protector gave her a half bow. “I am pleased to meet you, Ms.Ion.”
Her lips curved in response. “It’s Shae. You have prettyeyes.”
Usually quite stoic, Hedori’sprettyeyes glowed, apparently, a goner for her. “Ah, thank you. Would you care for something todrink?”
“A soda,please.”
Hedori inclined his head and went to get her more ammo to fling at hishead.
Don’t rush her,Michael telepathed him.She’s on edge. Give her time to relax, lower her guards. She has extremely strongshields.
Verywell.
“When you’re done with your drink, we’ll meet in my study,” Michael told her. She didn’t say anything as the Arc nodded at him andleft.
Hedori handed her a glass of fizzing, orange drink and was graced with another smile. She sipped her soda, then totally ignoring him, she wandered past him, stepped outside and stared into the darkened garden where insects chirped in dissonance. “This is so lovely,tranquil…”
Her voice held yearning, and her shoulders drooped as if in dejection. Dagan wanted to go over and sootheher.
“You’ll be safe here,” he saidinstead.
