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Prologue
The Grecian sun glinted off the incoming waves, refracting rainbows of light that welcomed me into the sea. The sand was warm, the breeze balmy. Rays of sun kissed my skin, now tan from two full weeks under it. The soothing water seeped over my toes, my feet sinking farther into the wet powder with each rush of the tide.
As I submerged myself in the Aegean Sea, serenity embedded itself in my bone marrow. My fingers flitted across the rippling water, dancing in the early afternoon light. I lifted my hands to my hair, brushing back the long strands, heavy with briny drops from the ocean.
I’d been with Jack O’Connell for nine months, although it felt like he’d always been there—a staple in the life of Emma Marshall. Where I went, Jack followed.
But where Jack went, I wasn’t allowed.
There was a shift in the current and a cool burst of water stroked my naked calves, a riptide that had changed direction. The wind strengthened, taking tendrils of my hair along with it. A change was coming. I could feel it in my heart, the way it fluttered faster beneath my ribs. Not in anticipation but in preparation.
My life was inextricably tied to Jack’s and, unbeknownst to him, we were on borrowed time. A dragon was slumbering, dreaming of revenge. This dragon thought I belonged to him.
But if I belonged to anyone, it was Jack O’Connell. I was learning him on a trial-and-error basis. I’d rile him, then analyze his reactions. That was the way to study a devil. It wasn’t a safe method, but it was effective nonetheless.
I’d gleaned one important fact throughout my relationship with the leader of the Irish mob. He was protective—to a bloody fault—of the few people he held dearest.
And I was his most prized possession.
Chapter One
Jack
I entered the bungalow, balancing grocery bags under each arm. They were filled with ingredients from the Mediterranean. I was excited to work with fresh produce, though not as excited as I was to see Emma. I’d been gone less than an hour, but a tightness in my chest had formed from the need to have her close again.
After I set the bags on the kitchen counter, my gaze found her. If anything, the magnetic force between us had grown over the past few months. I was attuned to her presence at all times, even when she wasn’t aware. I stopped to stare, my breathing uneven.
The fact that a creature like her lived in the same dimension as a demon like me was baffling.
Emma was an angel, sitting on the terrace in her white, see-through cover-up. She wore nothing underneath, the little temptress. Her hair, lighter than usual, was damp and beginning to wave. She had it pulled over one shoulder in an attempt to control the wayward locks. As Emma sat on a cushioned armchair, legs crossed, her eyes were glued to a thick text. She held a glass of white wine in one hand, idly swirling its contents.
I set a jug of milk onto the stone countertop, the noise stirring her. She looked at me, that slow smile spreading over her full lips, rising higher on one side like she was thinking something naughty. Her wide brown eyes grew smaller as her cheeks lifted, her smile turning into a full-on grin at the sight of me.
Her awe-inspiring effect was in no way diminished from the first time I’d laid eyes on her.
Circling the counter and walking the length of the living area to the terrace, I knelt in front of her. As I pulled her legs away from her body, she set her book and glass of wine on the side table. With her legs stretched out, I was able to see all of her. She was a tiny thing—average height for a woman, but thin and small-boned. She’d taken up a more rigorous form of exercise than she was used to. Her new muscle tone was slight, but long and lean. As delicate as a dove.
I kissed the side of her knee, tasting sea salt, and admired the goosebumps that formed in response to my touch.
“I thought we said no work,” I murmured against her skin, sliding my hand up her thigh to reach her hip.
“It’s not for school,” she insisted, wiggling.
So impatient.
I trailed kisses and little bites along her inner thigh. Her hands flew to my hair, where she sank her fingers into my haphazard curls. I groaned as her warmth soothed the ache in my chest, melting it into nonexistence.
She tugged on the crown of my head, pulling me up until our faces were level. Her half-lidded eyes were filled with the same heat as her touch.
“I’m never going to see Santorini if you keep doing this to me.” She pouted, cupping my rugged jawline.
I leaned forward to kiss the dip where her collarbones met, teasing the handcuff charm on her necklace. “It’s nowhere near as interesting as you.”
Her wild hair smelled like the ocean, fresh and salty. She’d been swimming, but I recognized the underlying notes of apples and lavender in it. Her skin, normally ivory, was now the color of warm honey and twice as sweet. The new freckles adorning her nose were adorable. I’d kissed them a thousand times since they had appeared.
Summer Emma might have been my favorite version, but I said that every season.
“I’m a history major, Jack,” Emma argued, as she was prone to do. She was one of few people on Earth I enjoyed sparring with. “My professors would kill me if they knew I went to Greece and barely even made it out of bed. Do you know how much there is to see here?”
