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gle free from his grasp—even considered biting him—but gave up. He was too strong.
“Who watched from the shadows last night?” His breath was hot against her neck, and shivers ran down her spine as he spoke. His body was hard, harder than she’d imagined, and she bit her lip at the realization her ass was tucked securely between his powerful thighs. “I know you felt it.”
She shifted, and he stilled, his right arm underneath her breasts as the other moved down to her hip. Something changed; the air thickened as the energy between them darkened.
“Look, nothing personal, but this is not your fight.” She shook her head. “It’s never been anyone’s but mine.” The anger left her suddenly, like air whooshing from a balloon. She would have stumbled if not for his arms. “I thought I could outrun it.” She exhaled a shaky breath. “I thought I could disappear and live someone else’s life—a normal life. Go to college, get a job . . . and I did for a while.”
She leaned back against him, resting her body upon the solid wall of man behind her. It was nice, to have that security, even for only a few seconds.
“It felt nice for the two minutes it lasted.” There was no way to keep the bitterness from her voice.
“Who are you running from, Rowan?”
Rowan glanced toward her Nana’s rooms. If only she’d come sooner. If only . . .
“Rowan?” he prompted.
“Let me go,” she whispered.
He released her, and she moved a few feet from him. Outside, a ribbon of leaves blew by as the wind picked up, gold, reds, and shit brown. In a few weeks, the trees would be bare, the ground covered in early-morning frost. Where would she be?
“My family has lived in Salem since the early 1600s. Our coven fled Europe when the witch trials were at their bloodiest.” She shook her head. “Was it bad luck they ended up here? Or was it fate?”
What are you doing?
Rowan ignored her conscience and turned to Azaiel. She saw his strength. His warrior soul. His arrogant attitude.
He wanted to help? He was going to need all of that and a shitload more.
She carefully lifted the heavy mane of hair off her neck and turned just so. She knew he’d see the mark clearly. It wasn’t hard to miss.
When she couldn’t stand the silence any longer, she let her hair fall and turned to him. He stared at her, his mouth tight, eyes hard. Something stirred within him. She felt the shift.
After a few moments, she spoke. “Now do you understand?”
Chapter 4
The mark lay at the base of Rowan’s neck, a coiled snake ready to strike, its long, forked tongue pointed upward. It appeared dull, not at all like the luminescent ones he’d seen in the Hell realm, and there had been many. Azaiel frowned. The mark belonged to a demon lord—of that there was no doubt. But who? And why?
He thought of the powerful presence he’d sensed earlier. Azaiel ran his hands over the day-old beard along his jaw. This wasn’t good. Things had just become a lot more complicated.
“You must explain,” he said finally, as she let her curtain of hair fall back into place. She moved away from him, her limbs long and graceful, and leaned her hip against the kitchen table.
“No.” She gazed at him, eyes as huge as saucers, her mouth pinched in anger. “I’m done sharing.” She folded her arms across her chest. “It’s your turn.”
“My turn?” Her attitude intrigued him. “Is this a game?” He considered her words—knew he was going to have to give her something—but what to share? The League’s protection was paramount.
“If this were a game, I’d have kicked your ass out of here last night, and you would never have seen it coming.” Her eyes flashed. “If this were a game, my Nana wouldn’t be dead, and my mother . . .” She shook her head savagely. “This is no game. This is life and death, and the curse ends here. Right now. With me.”
“Curse?” Azaiel didn’t like the sound of that.
“Shut up. I’m asking the questions.” Her chest heaved, and Azaiel couldn’t help but notice the strain of the thin T-shirt against the soft roundness of her breasts. She was slim, with the lines of a dancer, but her curves were all woman. Breasts that were more than a handful, hips that rounded nicely, and a butt that filled out the worn jeans in a way any man would like.
His body reacted instantly in a way that surprised him.
He’d not felt desire—true physical desire—in more time than he cared to remember. The lust he’d felt for the eagle shifter Skye Knightly had been twisted, born from the darkness he’d fallen into. But this . . . this was something else entirely. It was not expected, and it made him wary.
It brought to mind how weak he’d been in the past and the treacherous path he’d chosen. He would never let a woman get under his skin and steal his control again. Never.
