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She held up the book, her face turning red as he studied the male abs on the cover. To make matters worse, Itzel pointed a finger and started squeaking and twittering like a squirrel. The Hob was laughing—giggling around the mouthful of fruit-flavored ice she devoured with vigour.
Darien’s mouth twitched, his steel eyes dancing. “Let me guess: small-town cowboy romance. The guy’s closed off and arrogant, falls for his childhood sweetheart who got away.”
Loren frowned. He was good. “There’s more to it than that,” she said, a bit defensively, “but that’s the gist of it.” Itzel was still chittering.
“How long’s your necklace been gone?” All the humor in Darien’s voice had vanished.
Loren’s hand shot to her throat—to the bare skin dusted with gold. “I just felt it like twenty minutes ago,” she said, still groping. But there was nothing on her neck but powdery bits of gold. That and the conduit she always wore—the solar amulet her biological father had given her. “Did it fall off?” She started searching the cushion of the armchair—
“No,” Darien said. She stopped looking. He explained, “The necklaces disappear once the magic has been used up.”
“Oh.”
Black swallowed Darien’s eyes with a heavy blink, and she found herself blushing anew as he scanned her aura. Whenever his eyes turned black, Loren couldn’t decide if she found it sexy or frightening.
It was a bit of both.
Darien blinked the black away and reached behind his head to unclasp his own Avertera talisman—the only gold chain he wore, the three others made of silver. “Here.” He stood, stepped around the coffee table, and crossed the room.
Loren sat forward and set the book in her lap. She scooped up the tumbling waves of her hair as Darien bent down and looped the necklace around her neck.
“What about you?” she asked him as he did up the clasp with deft fingers. Once he was finished, she let down her hair and tipped her head back to see his face.
“I have another one upstairs.” There was a little crease in his brow; Loren fought the desire to reach up and smooth it. “Your colors are looking a little dim.” He gestured to the hall. “Come with me?”
She got up, placed her book on the coffee table, and followed him down the stairs to the swimming pool. The sound of the Hob’s chewing faded with distance as they walked.
Loren’s bathing suit was already down here, the white one-piece draped over a shower head to dry. They had the whole space to themselves, the room quiet, save for the bubbling of the waterfall.
As she stood on her tiptoes to grab her bathing suit, she kept her back facing Darien and forced out the question she was dying to ask—and dying for him to say yes to. “Do you want to swim with me?”
A beat of silence. For a second, Loren wondered if Darien had left, but she turned around to see him standing in the exact same spot, his expression impossible to read.
And then Darien said, “Really?” As if it was the greatest honor to be invited to swim with her. For someone so scary, he sure was adorable.
She fiddled with the bathing suit. “I mean, if you want to—”
“Of course I want to.” He drifted toward the doors, walking backward and somehow managing not to fall in the pool. Had she tried that, she’d have tumbled in head-first. “I’ll be right back.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
With a wink that made her stomach freak out, he turned and left, and Loren waited until the door swung shut behind him before hurrying into the change room. She got into her bathing suit quickly; it was dry, and it smelled like chlorine from the last time she’d worn it.
When she was done, she opened the change room door, the creak of the hinges echoing wide, and tiptoed out, the floor icy cold against her bare toes.
Darien still wasn’t back. Even just the thought of him made her stomach flipflop again. Gods, she had a major crush.
Loren crossed the room, padded by the waterfall, and found her favorite inflatable donut crammed in a metal basket brimming with water toys. She pried the donut free and used the steps to enter the pool.
Darien came down a few minutes later in nothing but black shorts, bare feet slapping the floor. One measly look at him—at those tattoos and impressively muscled physique—made Loren’s face turn into a tomato. Maybe inviting him to take his clothes off wasn’t such a good idea.
Gods—take his clothes off? She had to get a handle on her thoughts! He was dressed for swimming—it wasn’t like he was naked. Her mind pitched itself into the gutter every time this man came around.
Can you blame me, though? Loren asked Singer, who was just waking up from a nap in her shadow. He’s gorgeous.
Singer merely wagged his tail.
Darien dove into the water at the deep end. Loren was floating on the donut in the middle of the pool, her lower half in the water. The inflatable toy was jostled about by the waves Darien generated by diving in. Loren watched, bobbing in place, as the Darkslayer swam under the clear, rippling surface. With every stroke of his arms, he got closer, and closer…
