The mage’s eyes slitted dangerously. Power surged to swirl around him. “I live in thattowerbecause it’s the only way I can keep our realm safe and preserve what's left of it. Do your job, Reynner of Ademéras. She wants you. I don’t have to be a mage to see that. Your scent already marks her.”
Reynner moved like lightning. He grabbed Luc by the throat as the truth hit him. Marking. Like she belonged to him. No-no! “I brought her here for one reason only. I know my fucking obligations—I don’t need you to ram it down my throat!”
“It’s just your scent, not a bloody bonding,” Lucan retorted. “As long as her eyes stay clear—”
“Oh, hell.”
At Aerén’s soft curse, they both turned. Reynner swore viciously.
Eve stood by the door, staring at them. The winds tugged at her hair and flirted with the hemline of her bright blue-green dress, revealing golden brown thighs Reynner was intimately acquainted with. His heart felt like it would kick through his sternum.
She had to have heard him. Reynner shoved Lucan away.
Fuck! He swore again. He glowered at Lucan, whose only concern was restoring Empyrea back to its formidable state. He didn't care who got trampled along the way. As if their realm would disintegrate within minutes if Eve didn't find the Stone straight off.
“Relax,” Lucan said, straightening his shirt. “Unless you’ve taught her our language, I doubt she understood a word of our conversation. Now go do what you must.”
For some reason, he didn’t feel relief knowing she didn't understand them. He felt worse, like he’d betrayed her. Dammit, he wasn’t deceiving her. He had a job to do. But when he met her wary gaze, everything inside him protested. And Reynner knew he could never do that to her.
Yeah, he’d enlist her help, but he would never seduce her and taint her with the darkness prowling through him.
Chapter 9
Eve struggled to breathe air into flattened lungs, unable to get over her scare. Reynner had almost fallen over the ledge, fighting Lucan. Why the hell didn’t he have railings if he chose to live this high up?
She hastily stepped aside as Lucan strode past her, looking like a pissed off panther, short a snarl. He didn't even look at her. Her worry deepened when Aerén merely nodded as he followed, his easy smile missing.
What’s going on?
She glanced across to Reynner and found him still at the edge of the balcony, his back to her. The winds lashed at his hair and snapped at his pants, his stance rigid. Whatever they’d been arguing about hadn’t left him in a good mood.
“Reynner?”
He turned, raking back the gleaming strands whipping into his face.
For a second, Eve simply stared. Oh, yes, he’d make the perfect subject for her next sculpture, to capture all that wild, raw power harnessed in a solitary figure.
Come on, Eve, get this over with!
Pulling her mind off her work, she stepped out onto the balcony. Her stomach twisted into knots at his grim expression. She had to haul her apology past a throat gone bone-dry, and coughed it out, “I know you're angry at me for what happened last night—”
He stiffened at her words.
Right. Eve straightened her spine. If he didn’t care for her apology then she wouldn’t waste her time giving it. She grabbed at her flying hemline with impatient hands. “Look, I think I should just leave.”
“Last night was…regrettable,” he said, his voice flat like his eyes. “But you can't leave. Not yet.”
Her chin kicked up. She didn’t want his apology or whatever the heck that pitiful excuse was. “I thought it’s what you wanted, me gone?”
“You have no idea what the hell I want.” A nerve ticked hard in his jaw. “But I do need your help.”
“With what?”
“To locate something.”
That stumped her for a second. Most times she couldn’t even find her own apartment keys, so how in the world would she be any help in locating anything? “I'm not the best person for finding things. I'm more prone to losing them.”
“You are the one,” he insisted. “The only one who can find the artifact I need. I’ve searched a long time for you, Eve.”
