distant for a moment. "I wondered what she—"She pursed her lips together and Jake waited, watching as she pressed her fingers against a small, faint white scar barely visible along her jaw.
"Sorry." She lowered her fingers and shook her head. "A while back, I got the impression Mother Anemone was up to something. Maybe this is it. You, I mean. You and me."
Jake felt his face get hot all over, and he had to rub the back of his neck to keep from staring at his feet. "Ah . . . yeah. That might be her plan."
Merilee snorted and folded her arms. "She never plans. She arranges . Just ask her."
Jake looked into her eyes—big mistake—and stood mesmerized for a moment before he got out, "Do you mind being arranged with me? For, um, work, I mean."
Merilee didn’t break their gaze, and the corners of her mouth turned upward. She made him wait a second, then two, heart beating so damned fast she could probably see his chest twitching.
Then she said, "No. I don’t mind at all."
He felt her smile somewhere in the center of his gut, not to mention a lot of other places.
Smile still at full blaze, she said, "Now tell the truth, Jake. Are you okay with being arranged with me?"
His gut and groin tightened so hard he almost groaned. "Fine with it."
Damn, he couldn’t stop staring at her. "How did you get that little scar? The one on your jaw."
Her smile faltered a little, then turned into a wicked little grin. "Jumped off a roof when I was six. Did I mention the psychosis thing? Don’t worry. It only hits me every now and then."
She started walking again and Jake trailed after her, shaking his head.
They turned another corner, and when Jake caught up, Merilee said, "I can’t believe you’ve spent so much time hanging out with the Mothers."
Talking to her was hard when he wanted to touch that little scar. Maybe kiss it. "Guess that’s not a typical choice for demons."
"Why did you do it?" she asked without looking at him this time, which spared him a tiny measure of discomfort. "
I’d rather not talk about it," he managed, wishing his lust would give him a break.
"But I want to know—that, and everything about you." She gazed at him briefly, and the sparkle in those blue eyes unraveled another section of Jake’s resolve. "Like, why you don’t turn invisible and fly the way Astaroths usually do."
Jake kept his mouth firmly closed.
"Come on," Merilee added with the little smile that drove him to the edge of his control. "I told you about jumping off a roof. You can tell me anything. Do you fly at all?"
"Not if I can avoid it." Jake was relieved that his answer didn’t sound sharp or irritable. He could tell she wasn’t just teasing about wanting to get to know him. She was trying to do just that. And she was putting out the invitation, telling him he could move forward with getting to know her, too—yet it didn’t come across as overpowering or annoying. She didn’t seem easy to offend, or insecure about her body, her sexuality, her allure.
She was bold. Aggressive.
Too desirable for words.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
No, damn it, that’s what you want to do, not what you’re going to do .
He came back to earth enough to realize Merilee had stopped questioning him because she was pointing at a red townhouse on the right with a small, painted porch.
"It’s . . . that one," she said, her voice unusually quiet and hesitant as she slid her bow from beneath her shawl and off her shoulder.
In a single instant, Jake’s focus snapped back to the real world, to the streets of New York, and to the townhouse where Merilee expected to find Charlotte Heart. He scanned the house’s dark windows, and his muscles tightened. His senses expanded—and he took in what had given Merilee pause.
The energy around this house was . . . off. Jake couldn’t describe it, but the sensation poked at his gut like a burning stick. And the air smelled wrong.
Coppery. Strong.
He knew that stench.
Merilee nocked an arrow.
"Sorry." She lowered her fingers and shook her head. "A while back, I got the impression Mother Anemone was up to something. Maybe this is it. You, I mean. You and me."
Jake felt his face get hot all over, and he had to rub the back of his neck to keep from staring at his feet. "Ah . . . yeah. That might be her plan."
Merilee snorted and folded her arms. "She never plans. She arranges . Just ask her."
Jake looked into her eyes—big mistake—and stood mesmerized for a moment before he got out, "Do you mind being arranged with me? For, um, work, I mean."
Merilee didn’t break their gaze, and the corners of her mouth turned upward. She made him wait a second, then two, heart beating so damned fast she could probably see his chest twitching.
Then she said, "No. I don’t mind at all."
He felt her smile somewhere in the center of his gut, not to mention a lot of other places.
Smile still at full blaze, she said, "Now tell the truth, Jake. Are you okay with being arranged with me?"
His gut and groin tightened so hard he almost groaned. "Fine with it."
Damn, he couldn’t stop staring at her. "How did you get that little scar? The one on your jaw."
Her smile faltered a little, then turned into a wicked little grin. "Jumped off a roof when I was six. Did I mention the psychosis thing? Don’t worry. It only hits me every now and then."
She started walking again and Jake trailed after her, shaking his head.
They turned another corner, and when Jake caught up, Merilee said, "I can’t believe you’ve spent so much time hanging out with the Mothers."
Talking to her was hard when he wanted to touch that little scar. Maybe kiss it. "Guess that’s not a typical choice for demons."
"Why did you do it?" she asked without looking at him this time, which spared him a tiny measure of discomfort. "
I’d rather not talk about it," he managed, wishing his lust would give him a break.
"But I want to know—that, and everything about you." She gazed at him briefly, and the sparkle in those blue eyes unraveled another section of Jake’s resolve. "Like, why you don’t turn invisible and fly the way Astaroths usually do."
Jake kept his mouth firmly closed.
"Come on," Merilee added with the little smile that drove him to the edge of his control. "I told you about jumping off a roof. You can tell me anything. Do you fly at all?"
"Not if I can avoid it." Jake was relieved that his answer didn’t sound sharp or irritable. He could tell she wasn’t just teasing about wanting to get to know him. She was trying to do just that. And she was putting out the invitation, telling him he could move forward with getting to know her, too—yet it didn’t come across as overpowering or annoying. She didn’t seem easy to offend, or insecure about her body, her sexuality, her allure.
She was bold. Aggressive.
Too desirable for words.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
No, damn it, that’s what you want to do, not what you’re going to do .
He came back to earth enough to realize Merilee had stopped questioning him because she was pointing at a red townhouse on the right with a small, painted porch.
"It’s . . . that one," she said, her voice unusually quiet and hesitant as she slid her bow from beneath her shawl and off her shoulder.
In a single instant, Jake’s focus snapped back to the real world, to the streets of New York, and to the townhouse where Merilee expected to find Charlotte Heart. He scanned the house’s dark windows, and his muscles tightened. His senses expanded—and he took in what had given Merilee pause.
The energy around this house was . . . off. Jake couldn’t describe it, but the sensation poked at his gut like a burning stick. And the air smelled wrong.
Coppery. Strong.
He knew that stench.
Merilee nocked an arrow.
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