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I shake my head, break free of my reverie, and say, “No—not at all. Believe me, it’s more like a relief.” I meet his gaze, seeing the way it narrows in question. “Guess I’m not a big fan of your brother,” I add, watching as he throws his head back and laughs, the sight of that long, glorious column of neck forcing me to look away, it’s too much to take.
“If it makes you feel any better, most of the time I’d have to agree.” He returns to me, the warmth of his gaze solely responsible for the wave of comfort that flows through me.
The feeling lasting only a moment, before everything changes. His demeanor grows cautious, guarded, as he focuses on a distant point just beyond and says, “Speaking of…” He frowns, barely looking at me when he adds, “I should get back to work … see you around?”
I watch as he weaves through the crowd, only to be replaced a few seconds later by Cade.
“Hey, Santos.” His voice rises above the noise and chaos, as his eyes move over me, devouring me, but unlike his brother, his gaze leaves me cold.
“Hey, Coyote.” I smirk, seeing no use in pretending. We both know which team we play for.
He laughs in response—a real and genuine laugh I didn’t expect. “Of course I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, eyes twinkling, as though we’re just two friendly conspirators sharing a joke. “Though I have to admit, I could definitely learn to like you.”
He moves closer, too close for my comfort. But as much as I’d like to take one giant step back, I force myself to stay put. He will not intimidate me, no matter how hard he tries.
“You may not believe this, but I’m really glad to see you. You’re exactly what we need to shake things up around here.”
I quirk a brow, taking in smooth, poreless skin—a flash of white teeth—having no idea where he’s going with this.
“This is a great town, don’t get me wrong, and Leandro, my dad, is pretty much responsible for everything in it—you do know we run this town, right? My dad’s the mayor. My uncle’s the police chief, my cousin’s the judge…”
I roll my eyes, wanting him to know I’m not the least bit impressed by the Richters’ long list of bogus accomplishments.
“Anyway.” He dismisses my reaction with a wave of his hand. “As much as I love it here, lately things were starting to get a bit stale. I mean, you’re a world traveler…” He pauses, waiting for me to confirm that I have indeed seen a lot of the world, and when I don’t, he goes on to say, “All that globe-trotting and location hopping—with that kind of experience, your views are probably much broader than most. Something that, I’m sorry to say, my family places little value on. They’ve grown comfortable, complacent, and for a while there, I was feeling so stifled I threatened to leave. I wanted to expand my horizons, see more of the world. You probably don’t know this since you’re new here, but people don’t often leave Enchantment, and when they do … it rarely ends well.”
I narrow my gaze, knowing that was a reference to my dad but also sensing something far more sinister behind the words.
“Anyway,” he continues, “ever since you arrived, it’s like I’ve been given a new lease on life—got my second wind—and all that.” He tilts his head toward me, causing his hair to sweep into his eyes. It’s his signature move, meant to be alluring, but it’s totally wasted on me. “So, here’s the thing—I have a proposition to make, one that I think will surprise you…” He licks his lips, inching so close he pelts my left cheek with his breath. “I know we’re supposed to be sworn enemies. I know we were born to fight each other to the death. But honestly, I don’t see the point. You may find it strange, it may go against everything you’ve heard about me, but I see no reason why we can’t work together. I see no reason to fight when we could both benefit from waging peace instead of war.”
“You’re joking,” I blurt out, unable to keep the shock from my voice.
“I’m dead serious,” he says, eyes ablaze with his vision. “My goals far exceed those of my family, and you’re just what I need to help me achieve them. Of course, you’ll be well compensated—very well compensated, in fact.” He leers in a way that leaves me cringing. “We have far more in common than you think, Daire. And I’ve no doubt I could learn as much from you as you can from me. Just think—the two of us together—pooling our talents to bring all the otherworlds and their various dimensions under our rule. How’s that for broad thinking?”
I stand before him, having no idea what to say—other than: No! And: You’re crazy! But mostly I’m too stunned to speak.
“Anyway, it’s nothing you have to commit to just yet. I know it’ll take some getting used to, but I do hope you’ll give it serious consideration.”
I nod, unsure what to say, what to do. Paloma did not prepare me for this.
“So, tell me, was my brother bothering you?” He leans toward me again, his proximity setting me on edge. “He’s not really one of us, you know. He’s sort of the black sheep. Every family has one. Kind of like your dad, Django, I suppose.”
I swallow hard. Fight like hell not to react. He’s baiting me. Purposely pushing all of my buttons in search of the sweet spot—the one that’ll transform me from a totally in-control Seeker to an overemotional teenaged girl who loses her cool. But he can say what he will, I won’t fold.
“Anyway—” He shrugs, back to his fake-smiling-self once again. “It’s nice that Paloma let you out of the house long enough to have a little fun.” His gaze sweeps over me, and while he may look just like his brother, the resemblance stops exactly where it starts. To those who never manage to look deeper, he’s a god—to me, he just gives me the creeps. “So, can I show you around—get you anything? Something to drink, maybe? After all, I do own the place.”
I shoot him a dubious look, remembering the scene in the alleyway when his dad called him out in front of Dace for suggesting the same thing.
My expression prompting him to laugh when he says, “Okay, maybe it’s technically in my dad’s name, but I’m the first on the list to inherit. I’m considered quite a catch in this town—in case you hadn’t already guessed.”
“That sort of thing probably works better on Lita than me,” I say, watching in fascination as his face transforms from what I’ve come to know as his glib, self-satisfied look to something much harder and darker—though it’s a far cry from the demon I know him to be.
“Lita,” he scoffs. Dismissing the thought when he says, “Lita’s too easy. I’m in the mood for a challenge. Though, from what I hear, you have a thing for smooth Hollywood types.”
&nb
sp; “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear,” I say, the words flung from over my shoulder. I’ve had enough of him for one night.
Not getting very far before I’m stopped by the feel of his fingers circling my wrist, as he pulls me close to his chest, saying, “Whatcha looking for, Daire?” His voice a mere whisper, as his hand squeezes tighter.
