“Tongue in cheek?” he finally asked, frowning.
“Because humans used to believe that all witches had black cats and worshipped the devil. No?” I asked when his expression remained blank. Goddess, help me, this was getting us nowhere.
Setting Satan back down, I grasped Dathal’s hand again, ignoring the flare of heat coming from under my leather cuff, and led him into the living room. “Take a seat.” I gestured to either the sofa or the chairs. “I’ll feed these two and then we can talk.”
“Two?” He looked around, expression eager, and I grinned.
“Yeah, Beelzebub. Bee for short. He’ll come running when he hears biscuits being poured out.”
Rather than sit, like I’d suggested, Dathal followed me into the kitchen. Normally that would bother me—a stranger entering my space uninvited. But Dathal’s presence had the opposite effect.
I wanted him there.
Wanted him close.
I took my time dishing out cat food, trying to work out what I wanted to say. Where I wanted this to go. I was still no fucking closer to an answer when I stood and faced him.
He leant casually against my kitchen worktop, like he had every right to be there, that fucking sheer shirt teasing me with glimpses of his tattoos.
I wanted it off.
Pointing at the two daggers on his left shoulder, I asked, “Are they your weapons?”
He nodded, eyes narrowing. “They are.” He drew his bottom lip between his teeth, all the while keeping his gaze on me. “Klaryth daggers.”
I had an idea what his tattoos meant.
Tracing the runes on my left forearm, I bit back the words on the tip of my tongue. If I asked him what I wanted to, there was a good chance he’d ask me something similar in return.
And then I’d have no choice but to tell him the truth. Dathal wasn’t someone you could lie to; I knew that much.
As though having a mind of their own, my fingers traced the edges of his tattoo, the material of his shirt soft to the touch. He sucked in a breath, muscles tensing under my exploration, and the words I’d tried to hold back tumbled out anyway. “Where are they now?” I whispered.
His hand closed over mine, stilling my progress, and my heart stopped. “Do you want to see?”
It set off again at a gallop as my gaze met his and I nodded, sealing my fate. “Yeah.”
I watched transfixed as he closed his eyes, chest rising with the deep breath that followed.
The air shimmered for a split second—a blink and you’d miss the moment, magic so thick in the air around us I could almost taste it. Then Dathal raised hands that held the most beautiful of daggers. Silver like his hair, the hilt of each one decorated with ornate black writing that I hadn’t a hope of understanding. I swallowed back the bitter sting of jealousy threatening to overwhelm me.
“Beautiful,” I whispered. Both the daggers and his way of calling them to him. I glanced up to find him watching me, eyes so dark they looked almost black in the dim light from the hallway.
Wordlessly, he twirled the dagger in his left hand and offered it to me, hilt first. I strongly suspected this wasn’t something to be taken lightly, and my mouth went dry.
I took it from him, realising my mistake as soon as my fingers closed around it, magic pulsing from the metal like a heartbeat. The mark under my cuff reacted, an answering throb stealing my breath.
It took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to react, not to show Dathal the effect his magic had on me.
I think he knew anyway.
My voice came out rough, scratchy. “Where did they come from?” I turned it this way and that, watching the light reflect off the blade before handing it back and taking a shuddering breath that didn’t escape Dathal’s notice.
“Our realm.” He offered no further explanation, and I didn’t even try to figure how that worked. Magic defied logic.
The daggers vanished as quickly as he’d called them forth, and then Dathal’s gaze dropped to the tattoos on my forearms, lingering. He licked his lips, and I knew what was coming, dreaded it as much as a part of me welcomed it. And wasn’t that all kinds of fucked up?
But Goddess help me, I’d kept this fucking secret for six years, and it got heavier with each one that passed.
