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"You think?"
"I know."
Maybe it was time to show the little idiot she was playing with fire. At the very least, if he managed to scare the wits out of her, she'd run so far and so fast he actually might be able to concentrate on what he had to do. With dusk fast approaching, he could ill afford to be standing here exchanging verbal blows with a lady of ill repute.
"What if I tell you that I could be by your side in the blink of an eye, drinking your blood while you moaned in ecstasy? What would you say to that?"
"I'd say that if you tried, I'd knock you on your ass so fast your head would ring." He smiled slightly. The witch had spirit, that was for sure. “Then perhaps I should try." She didn't say anything, just flexed her fingers and continued to watch him. He couldn't help admiring her courage.
He stepped to the right, deep into the gathering shadows, and wrapped the cloak of darkness around himself. Then he ran toward her so fast the wind of his approach flung her smoky-blonde hair backwards, as if offering the long column of her neck in supplication. Though he had no intention of tasting any human, the darkness still rose. If there was a spell on this woman, then maybe it was not one of seduction, but one designed to court the darkness within him. Maybe Dunleavy sought to shatter the bonds Michael had secured around his demon, hoping it would send him back to the hell from which he'd emerged long ago.
He stopped close to her, and her scent spun around him—honey, sunshine and cinnamon. A warm, somehow familiar, scent that stirred him in ways that went beyond the physical. She sidestepped him and placed a hand on his chest, even though he was still wrapped in shadows. That surprised him. Few humans could do what she'd just done.
He threw off the cloak of night and reached out, wrapping his fingers lightly around her neck, caressing the warm pulse that fluttered so rapidly with a thumb.
"I could break your neck so easily."
Her eyes widened a little, and the flutter under his fingers grew quicker. “Do that, and you destroy your future."
He raised an eyebrow. “How so? You are nothing but a whore." Something flashed in her eyes—an amber fire that did strange things to his breathing. “Are you so sure of that that you're willing to kill me?"
"Perhaps.” After all, what future did he really have to look forward to? The years that stretched before him where as endless and as dark as the ones behind.
He stepped closer. Her breath caught, yet the look in her eyes was more anticipatory than fearful. “Who are you working for?"
"No one."
He closed the remaining distance between them. Her rapid breaths caressed his cheek with warmth, and her breasts pressed against his chest. Awareness surged across his skin—an elemental force that was all passion, all heat.
"I don't believe you."
"I'm here to stop Dunleavy, nothing more, nothing less.” Her strange-colored eyes searched his, and heat bloomed fiercer in her cheeks. She licked her lips, and it was all he could do not to taste their moistness for himself. Lord, he didn't know what it was about this woman, but she'd hooked him in her web faster than a spider's caught a fly.
"But,” she continued softly, breathlessly, “I'll need your help, if I'm to succeed."
"You could be right,” he murmured and gave in to temptation, briefly kissing her sweet lips. It felt like he was dipping a toe into heaven. Felt like he was coming home. “But I have no intention of helping you."
"I could make it worth your while."
"Oh, I'm sure you could.” He slid his hand down her back. Even through the thick woolen shirt he could feel the heat of her skin. Like him, she seemed to burn. “Only I do not need a partner. Dunleavy is mine to kill."
"Dunleavy is more than you think he is. And he intends to sacrifice two men in a ritual tonight. We have to stop him."
He caressed the firm cheeks of her rear. A quiver ran through her, and her pupils widened slightly, evidence of the desire he could almost smell. Holding her gaze, daring her to stop him, he slid his hand back up to the band of her skirt and began to tug free her shirt.
"There is no ‘we’ in any of this, and I do not care if Dunleavy sacrifices a hundred men—not if the bloody trail leads me to him."
"That is a very selfish and unproductive attitude."
Smiling coldly, he undid the bottom button of her shirt and moved up to the next one. “I am a very selfish man, and I'm prone to taking what I want, when I want."
"And right now you think you can just take me?"
Another button gone, two more to go. His anticipation rose. “Yes."
"You'd be wrong, you know."
He raised an eyebrow, but his attention was more on what was about to be revealed than what she was saying. “You're the one who said you could make it worth my while."
