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He turned so that he was facing her moredirectly, as if he wanted her to believe him. “Really.”
He meant it. Even her sirensisters never agreed with her when she got drunk enough to let thisopinion out. To them, Valentine’s was practically a siren holiday.Prime hunting grounds.
“What do you thinkValentine’s should be about?” she asked softly. And probably sheshould have regretted asking. Getting to know each other wasagainst the rules. It invited feelings. But she wanted toknow.
“Let’s put aside thehistory of the date—which, by the way, didn’t originate with myfather, Eros, but started as a fertility holiday. In more recentcenturies, it has become a day to exchange tokens of affection withlovers and friends alike, so it makes sense that the gods of lovewould be involved.”
Elodie couldn’t helpherself. “I do love those chubby cherubs on the cards—”
That earned her a scowl.“Take it back.”
She laughed, then leaned forward and kissedhim better. “I think humans had to stick to cherubs. The reality ofyou would have blown them away.”
He grunted, but a secretsmile tipped the corners of his mouth up. “Anyway, while I thinkpeople should tell or show loved ones they love them every day, andnot be forced into it, celebrating love is important. Withoutlove…the world becomes selfish, chaotic, myopic. Love is what keepsus from becoming…”
Chance trailed off andElodie’s heart pinched, because she knew what he’d kept himselffrom saying.
“Monsters?” she prodded,unflinching. She knew what she was.
His hand tightened onhers. “You arenot a monster, Elodie.”
“I know.” Chance was one ofthe few, other than her sisters, who knew that she chose to onlytarget those who deserved death. “But it’s not because Ilove.”
He frowned. “It isn’t?”
Was he going to hate herfor this? “It’s because I can’t stand other monsters.”
She waited for him tofrown, or argue, or point out the logic problem. Because,technically, her sisters fell into that category and she didn’tkill them.
“I’m sorry you see yourselfthat way,” he said in a low voice that unclenched something insideher. “I don’t.”
She wanted to believe him.Believe the light in his eyes that told her he saw her.Her. Not the outertrappings of a siren or some dangerous creature to avoid. But theheart of her. Someone torn by what she was, by her family, and byher own moral compass.
She wanted to believe in him…but hope was adangerous thing.
Besides, how could a cupidand a siren ever hope for more than just good sex. Their lots inlife were too distant. Too at odds.
She needed to lightenthings up. Fast. “You know I’ve never had a Valentine?” She smiled.“I don’t think I’d want all the hoopla. Diamonds or cards orflowers.”
Seeming to sense her needto take a step back, Chance flashed his easy smile. One shethought, just for a second, was tinged with disappointment. But shedidn’t let herself ask. “What would you want?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” Sheshrugged. “Something easy. A night where I could be in pajamas, gettakeout, put on a movie, maybe eat chocolates in front of a cozyfire, and just enjoy my…somebody.”
The way he was searchingher gaze, Elodie couldn’t tell if he liked that or thought she wasbeing silly.
Chance sighed. “I want—”
Her cell phone went off.Elodie knew that ring tone. The person calling would only be doingso for one reason. They had information on her attacker.
Chapter 8
Turned out Elodie’s contactwanted to meet in person. When she told Chance that, he thought itdidn’t bode well, but he didn’t know this Delilah woman.Unfortunately, meeting in person meant getting them both cleanedup—again—and dropping by Elodie’s place so she coulddress.
Her apartment alone was…arevelation.
Cold. But cold on purpose,was his impression. Immaculate furniture in whites that he wasafraid to sit on. Generic art that was more about colors andshapes, but nothing identifiable. No personal items anywhere. Noteven in the kitchen, which had zero appliances beyond the basicfridge and stove. Not even a microwave.
Not even tea paraphernaliathat he could see, and he knew she liked that.
