Relying on the unreliable and cruel for the safety of the most important person in my life was a pain I couldn’t explain. Knowing I was the reason for Amelia’s predicament was getting harder to bear.
Emotion drained from his expression before he looked past me.
“As much as I’m enjoying our time together, you are still on the clock,” he reminded me.
Say less.I turned, and he headed for the door. “I am, so stay out of this and out of my way,” I insisted.
“As you wish,” he said breezily, a hint of cruel delight in his words.
“Fuck you.”
“In due time. But I feel obligated to remind you of the time constraints that prohibit such activities between us. Our incessant flirting must stop.”
Flirting? He was masochistic enough to consider me lashing out at him as flirting? Time was of the essence, but I’d find the time to knee him in his berries.
With some effort, I stalked out of the room without giving in to my impulse.
12
Diehle was waiting, leaning against the wall at the end of the hall. He pushed from it, blinking away the curiosity that had seeped into them at Cirrian’s absence. He hesitated before beckoning me to accompany him. A questioning glint surfaced in his eyes each time he glanced over his shoulder.
When he peered over his shoulder, I did the same, suspecting Cirrian had lost interest and left. But he’d crept up behind us, falling in step with me like a deadly shadow. The ever-present intensity of his gaze was a weight I couldn’t ignore.
Don’t give him the finger. It’s beneath you. Kara, you are better than such puerile antics. You are better than this. You’re a grown-ass woman, not some emotionally turbulent teenager.
I was indeed capable of the behavior of an emotionally turbulent teenager. It wasn’t beneath me to participate in puerile antics. Because my hand slinked behind my back to give him the finger. A deep rumble of laughter erupted from him.
Diehle stopped, lobbing an inquiring, wary look.
“She seems to amuse you in a manner I haven’t seen in you before, Cirrian. You must provide me with the details of yourcontract. I’m sure it’s quite interesting. Besides, I’d hate for mine to conflict with the one you have with her.”
“I trust that it won’t. I’m not one to deal and tell.” Cirrian’s eyes challenged me. I guess my “expressive” eyesrevealed that if necessary, I was prepared to use his true identity against him. I didn’t believe my eyes were expressive enough to betray my plans, but my face, when I didn’t put effort into masking my feelings, was an entire billboard. I’d mastered controlling it with most people in the supernatural community, but Cirrian’s presence shattered every defense I had.
Diehle waited a few beats, as if he expected Cirrian to reconsider. When he didn’t respond, we continued to the living room. The moment we’d entered the room, he turned his sights on me. “What brings you to me, Kara?” he asked.
“I need a Balic fig.”
Surprise overtook his face. His lips formed a tense curl.
“A Balic fig?” he asked, his brows drawn together like he’d misheard me.
I nodded. Studying me for a long time, his eyes narrowed, he asked, “You need it for a spell?”
I nodded again. I wouldn’t give him any more information than needed, nor did I want my desperation to betray me. The effort was moot. I was willing to make a deal with a demon. Of course I was desperate.
“Very well. Come with me.” He led me to the back of the house and opened a door to reveal a yard simultaneously beautiful and ominous. I was drawn to the large tree isolated on the far-left side of the expansive grounds. Its vibrant green leaves contrasted with the obsidian black trunk. A hazy illumination surrounded each dangling fruit. It took everything not to run to the tree, grab a few fruits, and make a mad dash for my car.
Diehle watched me closely, his gaze occasionally wandering to Cirrian. I was acutely aware of the incessant pressure of the shadow god’s stare. Each time I looked at him, I aimed pointed looks, urging no, demanding that he go away. For someone who claimed I had such readable eyes, he was missing the message. No, that clearly wasn’t it. He understood my wish and had chosen to disregard it.
“What book does the spell come from?” Diehle asked, cutting off another look lobbed in Cirrian’s direction.
“Not a spellbook, a grimoire.”
His expression flattened, but the tick in his jaw betrayed his interest. “You need the fig from me, correct?”
No, I just like visiting houses of horror because I have a fear kink.
I gave a small nod in response to his inane question.
