Her grip tightened on the glass. So he had some kind of abilities, as well? Still, she wasn’t admitting to anything. “I’m stuck with a stark-raving madman.”
“I beg to differ, vixen. This here…” he waved a hand over himself, his smile pure taunt, “is no man.”
Grr.“Stop calling me that!”
“Then you know what to do.”
Damn man—male—whatever bloody noun he was!
Ash gritted her teeth. It was far too early in the morning to be dealing with him. She pivoted, taking in the looming building before her. The abbey soared skyward through the hovering mist, its dome and spires like ancient sentinels.
To her left, a concrete balustrade boxed in the courtyard.
She marched across to the balustrade and peered over, her breath puffing white in the frigid air, but she couldn’t see a thing with all the thick wafts of mist sailing past.
“Be careful, vixen, you don’t want to fall over.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake!She wheeled back, shoving away the mist-dampened tendrils of hair sticking to her face. “My name is Ash—Ashaya James!”
He didn’t react or offer his name. Just watched her with a stillness that somehow rattled her more.
“God. I need tea. A vat of it.”
“I doubtHecan give you any, but there might be some inside.” He nodded to the somber building.
Did he take everything literally?She raised an eyebrow. “So, I’m just supposed to walk in? What about the monks?”
“Long gone.”
She frowned, her attention shifting back to the towering abbey. “It’s abandoned?”
“I didn’t say that.” He opened the worn, black-domed door, and it squeaked open, revealing an eerie gloom through its gaping maw. He stood aside and waited.
She eyed it warily. “You first.”
“The distrust I get for saving her life,” he grumbled, stalking inside.
Ash rolled her eyes and followed. Soft sconce lights came on in the foyer, revealing a crack that fissured the corridor floor, leading to an enormous circular living room. Faint morning light seeped in through the domed windows.
Then the soft wall sconces came on, revealing a split-level room, and she stopped dead, her gaze rushing up the towering walls to a faded biblical fresco arching over the dome above, weathered and water-damaged in places.
Oh, wow.
So tragically beautiful and left to neglect.
Her gaze lowered, and she blinked. Arcade machines sat next to a narrow staircase, and an air hockey and foosball table waited on the far side.
Was this his place?
“Kitchen’s in here.” He palmed open a door, and she followed, her gaze betraying her before she could stop herself—sweeping over the hard, muscled lines of his leather-clad thighs and tight backside, up the lean curve of his back, to the long braid of silver hair trailing between his powerful shoulders to his hips.
Under the dim light, it gleamed like spun metal, rich and untamed against his light tan skin.
Some people, it seemed, won the genetic draw.
Ash tore her gaze away, gulped down the rest of her water, and slipped past him into a wide, stone-walled kitchen. Alarge, scarred wooden table sat in the middle, surrounded by mismatched chairs. Faded cabinets lined one wall, with a coffee machine on the counter beneath open shelves.
A fridge occupied space near the outer door, and a sink sat beneath the window overlooking a backyard.
