Pouting because she couldn’t sleep with him? Every. Man’s. Dream.

My dream.

Deep breath in...out. Have to change the subject. “Do you ever hire out your services?”

“My superb sexual skills?”

“No!” The arms of the chair broke off in his hands.

She scowled at him. “You act as though I had no reason to go there, and yet it was a logical conclusion considering what you said before you asked.”

“You’re right.” Killing me. He dropped the splintered wood pieces to the floor. “I meant your superior Curator abilities.”

“Why? Do you have an enemy you’d like me to whack?”

“I need help finding my missing friends. I love them the way you loved Mari.”

“Well, well. Look at you. Proving demons are expert manipulators. Good job.”

“I’m just stating a fact. I will do anything to find them.”

She arched a brow, suddenly intrigued. “Anything?”

The low tone of her voice...now husky with arousal...shot a lance of pleasure straight to his groin.

How many of those lances would he feel before this conversation ended?

“Anything except put your life at risk,” he said.

* * *

CARING FOR HER. Protecting her again. How was a girl supposed to maintain any kind of emotional distance with him?

Better question: how was a girl supposed to maintain any kind of physical distance?

Keeley had just watched him hack through a forest, his muscles straining and rippling, and all she’d wanted to do was throw herself at him. Then she’d had to watch him prowl through this house, determined to ferret out an enemy and, what? Protect her. Was she just supposed to overlook her wildest fantasies coming to life right before her eyes?

Need him so badly. Every delicious inch of him.

The consequences were beginning to matter less and less. Sick shmick. It was the deprivation that would kill her.

And, really, he could be wrong. What if they could be together, and she wouldn’t sicken a second time? She’d fought the effects of his demon and won, hadn’t she? That had to mean something.

Have to shatter his resistance the way he shattered mine.

Besides, he owes me.

Actually, no. He didn’t. At the moment, he didn’t owe her anything at all.

The truth will set you free.

What she’d blamed him for? She shouldn’t have. Mari would have found a way to touch Torin even if he’d told her no—even if he’d taken measures to stop her. Mari, for all her goodness, had been stubborn and hardheaded.

Keeley finally accepted her friend’s culpability for what had happened. The girl had agreed to Cronus’s terms.

Any lingering resentment she’d harbored toward Torin completely withered, his ledger wiped as white as snow. Problem was she’d just lost her only defense against his appeal. There would be no stopping a bond from forming.

He would flip out—hate her.

Can’t let that happen.

Her head tilted to the side as she considered her next move. “I don’t understand you,” she admitted.

His gaze dropped to her lips, lingered and heated. “That’s good, because I don’t understand you, either.” He pushed the bowl of soup he’d given her closer. “Eat. Please.”

The “please” almost convinced her.

Enjoy the moment. Seize the day. Take what I can, while I can.

“You want to know what it’ll take to get me to help you find your friends?” she asked. “Fine. For each one I find, you’ll touch me. Pleasure me. When I say, how I say.” He hadn’t owed her—but he would.

He was determined to resist her, and that, at least, was something she understood...but wouldn’t stand for. He needed a push, and she was going to give it to him.

* * *

PUT MY HANDS on Keeley? Yes, please.

Pleasure her? A thousand times yes.

Torin would have gladly paid for the privilege, yet here she was willing to pay him. Did life get any better? Or worse?

Proceed with caution—or else. “You want me?”

A slow nod from her.

“Why me?” he asked. He had to know.

“Why not?”

Why not, indeed. He worked his jaw. “Do you want the top ten reasons—most of which we’ve already rehashed—or will one or two suffice?”

She leaned back, drummed her fingers against the arms of her chair. He could practically hear the wheels turning in her head as she pondered the proper response.

“Are you irritating and even defective?” she said. “Yes. But you’re also hot. And yes, I’m just a little shallow. I’m also desperate.”

The word defective was a poison in his mind, infecting everything it encountered. “You’re desperate, are you?” Knew that already. Why so upset by it? “Wow. I’m flattered.”

Looking like a little kid who’d just turned in an art project, unsure whether she’d created trash or a masterpiece, she said, “Should I not have admitted that?”

“No! A guy likes to think he’s special.” Torin scrubbed a hand down his face. Had those words seriously just come out of his mouth?

“You misunderstood me. You are special,” she said, earnest. “Did I mention I like to look at you?”

He scoffed. “Is physical appearance all you think about?”

“Did I mention I’m shallow?” she said. A teasing note had entered her voice, cooling the worst of his anger.