Finally. A display of honest emotion.

“Yes. And I’m going to leave,” she said.

“No,” he said softly, menacingly. “You aren’t. You’re staying.”

“Why?”

Silence.

Such oppressive silence.

“Try to stop me and I’ll fight you,” she said just as softly, just as menacingly.

“You’re only whetting my appetite, sunshine.”

Liar! He wasn’t attracted to her. He couldn’t be. She was an amusement, like he’d said, but nothing more.

Well, she was about to be a mistake!

She swung around. He stood, the motion lightning-fast. Before she could make a move, he grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her against him. His erection ground against the apex of her thighs.

Any woman would do, she thought, even as heat invaded her veins.

“I want you, and you want me. Let’s put ourselves out of our misery,” he said, dark gaze fierce.

“How about I put myself out of mine?” She jerked her arm up and thrust the blade deep into his neck.

A pained gasp left him, but his hold on her never wavered. “Well played, sunshine. Well played.”

With the weapon still embedded in his neck, he picked her up and placed her on the table, uncaring about the food or the dishes. He forcibly spread her legs and moved between them, his gaze never leaving hers. The heat in her veins intensified, and she shivered.

He planted his hands beside her thighs and leaned toward her, his nose brushing against hers. “Here’s how the rest of this game is going to be played,” he said, only to look past her and frown.

When he said nothing more, she licked her lips. “Tell me.” I’m excited? Oh, what a foolish, foolish girl.

He didn’t tell her anything. He straightened, though his head tilted to the side. “Something’s wrong.”

The last word had barely left his mouth when she heard someone scream.

Lazarus jerked the knife out of his neck, the wound healing instantly, just as the doors to the kitchen burst open and a black fog rolled into the room.

“What the hell is that?” she asked, jumping to her feet. The screaming intensified, but she wasn’t sure whether it came from his people, or the fog. Or both.

“I don’t know.” Lazarus pulled her behind him, acting as a shield.

The action baffled her...delighted her. The first time anything like it had ever happened. She latched on to his wrist and tugged him toward the back door, which led to the living room.

The fog pursued them...and quickly reached them.

Suddenly Cameo was surrounded, unable to see...and only able to hear more of those screams. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even move.

“Lazarus,” she tried to cry. And then her mind went blank.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

DON’T GET SICK, don’t get sick. Please, please, don’t get sick.

The mantra played through Keeley’s mind, a broken record as Torin rose from the bed. She knew he feared what was to come. Knew he expected her to fall prey to his demon’s infection. Deep down, she did, too.

Behind his back, she snatched a lamp from the nightstand, squeezed until the base shattered and flashed away the pieces before they could fall. He looked back at her, and she blinked innocently.

If she did sicken, she would have a terrible time convincing him to stay with her. He might be calm but there was no doubt in her mind he’d reached the end of his tolerance.

“I wish I could tell you I’m sorry,” she said, “but I’m not. I like what we do to each other.”

“I like it, too, but I should be man enough to deny us both.”

“Can you really blame yourself? I’m irresistible.”

He offered no reply.

She quietly dressed in a clean gown made entirely from strips of black leather. Though an hour had passed since he’d last had his fingers inside her, tremors of satisfaction still lingered. The sweet scent of freshly bloomed flowers wasn’t helping. Her potted plants had sprouted the moment she’d climaxed and served as a constant reminder of what Torin had done to her...and what she had done to him, how he’d looked and he’d felt and he’d tasted. How he’d blissed her out without even making love to her.

What would happen when finally he got inside her?

“I don’t know whether I should thank you or curse you,” he said.

Don’t think I’d mind a thank-you this time. “Maybe both?” she offered helpfully.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Honest.”

A knock at the door. “Yo, Tor Tor,” Strider called. “Your girl has a visitor. Also, someone sent her prezzies.”

“Prezzies?” A buzz of happiness. “For me? But no one knows I’m here.”

Torin frowned. “Who’s the visitor?” he called.

“William...and all three of his boys.”

“William’s here?” She squealed, clapping with abandon.

Torin gave her the stink eye. “You know him?”

He made it sound like a horrible crime. “I do?” She pursed her lips. What she’d meant as a statement had emerged as a question.

“How do you know him?”

“Hades.”

“I see.” He inclined his head as if he’d just made a decision. “We’ll be right down,” he informed Strider. Without taking his gaze from her, he asked in a more tempered tone, “How close were you two?”