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Ryder taps the side of his nose and whispers, “Sulfur.”
Well,fuck. That means demons. And if there are demons at my house, it must be related to the ones we escaped the night before. It’s not as if I have demon visitors on a regular basis.
Something rustles in the bushes on the far side of the yard and Ryder’s arms tighten around me. His expression is fierce, as if he’s ready to defend us. It’s different than his usual carefree and flirtatious demeanor, and it surprises me. There’s definitely more to this lust demon than meets the eye.
We wait for several more minutes, then Ryder says, softly, “It’s gone.”
My blood is still racing like lava through my veins. “You’re sure?”
He nods.
“What was it? Those demons from last night?”
“Maybe,” he says. “But there was something a little different about the smell.”
He looks down at me, as if suddenly realizing he has me pressed up against the tree. I can feel his warm breath on my face, tinged with magic. His chest is hard as iron, and his sleeveless tank shows off his muscular arms. He’s not even trying to seduce me, but he’s sexy as hell anyway.
I wiggle beneath him, and he steps back. “They must have followed us somehow.”
“It’s not as if we don’t have a pretty unique magical signature,” Ryder says. “A powerful witch and a lust demon together?”
I shrug. “Good point.”
We walk cautiously toward the house. I pause outside the front door and peer inside. After a moment, satisfied nothing is still in there, I step into the living room. It’s totally wrecked. Furniture overturned, the lamp broken on the floor. My bedroom is the same. Dresser dumped out, clothes ripped and strewn about, mattress shredded.
“What on earth did this?” I ask, brow furrowed. I look over at Ryder as I run my hands over the long gashes in the mattress.
He doesn’t answer. His jaw is tight, his lips set in a thin line. “Get anything you may need. We shouldn’t come back here until we’ve figured all this out.”
“There’s only one thing I need. Only one thing I ever need.”
I stride across my room and into the closet. The door is partially shattered, splinters of wood left everywhere. My hands tremble as I reach up to the top shelf. But what I’m looking for isn’t there.
I turn back to Ryder, my stomach a ball of lead.
“What is it?” he asks, brow furrowed.
“My grimoire,” I say, biting my lower lip. “They took it.”
