At the warning, Blaéz shrugged. “I don’t see a problem. I’m never letting her go.”
“So be it.” As Michael’s form shimmered and vanished, Blaéz pulled out his cell and saw Darci’s missed call. It was time to go bring his female home.
* * *
Darci took shelter on her porch from the drizzle and watched the taillights of Declan’s Pajero disappear down her street. She entered her home, locked the door, and tossed her tote down on the couch.
Ugh, what an unexpected evening, she blew out a rough breath. Declan had shown up at the library after work, in full, overprotective big brother mode, all stern and determined. After last night at the club with Blaéz turning up, she should’ve known Declan wouldn’t leave it alone. The questions had started on the drive to his home in Westwood.
Who is this man? What do you know about him? Where does he live?
Declan was concerned, she got that. Still, she felt fifteen, going on a first date all over again. After his barrage of questions, whatever he saw in her expression—probably her desperation for him to understand how she felt about Blaéz, Declan had finally fallen silent.
For the first time she felt hope, felt that deeper connection with a man she really liked. She just needed time, a chance to explore this newness.
But Declan’s antipathy toward Blaéz worried her. She’d never expected her brother to be a stumbling block to her happiness.
Sighing, Darci made her way upstairs.
A quick shower later, dressed in jammies, she pushed her feet into her furry slippers and headed downstairs. As she heated milk on the stove for her hot chocolate, she called Blaéz, but it went to voicemail. A little disappointed that he hadn’t answered, she dropped her cell on the granite worktop, and as she turned, the glowing stove transfixed her…
Flames erupted and sparked in the dark. A shadowy form appeared. Stars flickered like a chain and flew down in a slashing crackle. Skin split and unbelievable agony exploded—
“You cannot escape me,” the looming figure whispered.
Noooo! With a strangled scream, Darci jerked free, slamming into the kitchen counter. Pain shimmered through her spine, pulling her mind back. Oh, God! Panting hard, her gaze darted to the window. Rain continued to fall but in a light drizzle. No stars.
A furious hiss sounded, boiling milk spilled on the hot plate. Scurrying over, Darci pushed the saucepan aside and switched off the stove. She rubbed her sternum, unable to shake off the chill burrowing in her. Her desire for hot chocolate dissipating, she cleaned up the spill and tossed the cloth into the sink.
Back in the living room, she switched on the television and another episode of Buffy, hoping it would take her mind off the embers of her nightmare that burned awake once more. She watched Buffy finally give in to her unwanted desire for Spike…
At the sudden rapping on her door, Darci nearly jumped out of her skin, the remote flying from her hand. She scrambled after the device and paused the video then hurried to the door. Peering through the security hole, relief flooded her.
She threw open the door to find Blaéz examining the wet street. She looked too, saw nothing, and got a lungful of his sexy, masculine scent. Even damp from the rain he smelled so good, all leather and cool night’s breeze.
He turned and his gaze roamed her face. Her heart thumped a little faster at his scrutiny. “You called—what’s wrong?”
Darci knew he meant what had happened at her brothers, and not about her old, horrid nightmares. “Nothing. I wanted to let you know I was back.”
His eyes narrowed. Nope, he didn’t believe her. Before he said anything and she was forced to add to the friction between him and Declan, she added quickly, “Grace is not doing so well. Seems even a little outing is not good in her state. She’s back on bed rest.”
He studied her for a moment longer, then glanced back at the dimly lit street before he ushered her inside and shut the door. “We need to talk.”
Darci tried not to jump to conclusions, which, of course, was a natural reaction considering his words. He appeared calm, his expression revealed nothing. Yet the knot in her belly said differently.
“O…kay.” She headed for the kitchen and put the coffeepot on to keep busy. As she turned for mugs, she found him leaning a shoulder against the kitchen archway watching her with a hooded stare. Just like that, desire flowed awake. So badly she wanted his hands on her again. Instead, she rushed into speech and tried to ignore the warmth sliding through her veins leaving her achy with need. “What do you want to talk about?”
The heat in his gaze faded. He straightened and stepped into the small kitchen, taking up even more space. “What do you know about the supernatural?”
“Just that I adore Spike.”
He stilled. “Who?”
It was the last thing she’d meant to say. Grimacing, she set the mug on the counter. “Nothing.”
She stepped around him to get the milk from the fridge. He blocked her path. “Who is Spike?”
She couldn’t stop her smile. This gorgeous man was jealous? “Want to meet him?”
