“Hey,” she said. “Lunch is ready.”
Then she headed for the kitchen, the air around her crackling. That was a mystery, because a human woman couldn’t cause the slightest twitch in the current of magic that crossed dimensions. He knew that sorcerers called it the continuum or dragon current. Persona
lly, he didn’t bother to name it, though in the beginning, he’d called it his own personal hell.
His gaze slid to the window and the forest beyond. Maybe it wasn’t Jen that affected the current. Maybe it was something else. A demon, here in this small, pretty town?
That was exactly what he was here to find out. He’d tracked the thing to Liberty and then lost it. His gut was telling him it had come here.
He wrapped his brushes to keep them from drying out and tidied his work area, then washed his hands and face before joining Jen in the kitchen. She’d made him a turkey sandwich on a bun with Boston lettuce and some sort of sprouts.
“Thank you,” he said as he took a seat. He enjoyed having meals with her, talking to her. Hers was an easy sort of companionship.
“I didn’t know if you preferred mayo or mustard, so I took a chance on both. I suppose I should have asked.”
“I’m fine with both,” he said, taking the top off the bun and carefully scraping the sprouts onto the plate. He looked up to find her watching him with a faint smile. He shrugged. “Some things a man—” or a creature that was more monster than man “—isn’t meant to eat.”
She laughed. “I feel that way about tomatoes.”
“Do you? I have a fondness for tomatoes on a turkey sandwich.”
“I’ll remember that.” She took a bite of her own sandwich. They chatted about easy things. Light things. The weather. The progress of his work for her. Then she mentioned that her grandmother had loved the wallpaper in the bedroom under the eaves, and she wished there was a way to save it.
“This house. It was your grandmother’s?”
“And my mother’s and mine.”
The wistfulness in her voice reminded him just how short human lives could be.
“You miss them.” He knew about that, knew what it was like to miss loved ones from his past. It was hard for an immortal to form friendships with humans, hard to watch them age or sicken and die. He almost asked her how they had died, but ancient, ingrained manners from a time long past prevented him from prying. Some instinct made him reach across and close his hand over hers. “They never leave us, the people we love. They come to us in dreams and memories that keep them alive as long as we’re alive.”
He let more pain leak into those words than he had meant to.
Her gaze shot to his and, for a frozen moment, they just stared at each other. Then she pulled her hand from beneath his and glanced at the window. “Looks like something’s coming this way.”
Following her eyes, he saw the storm clouds - the horizon. But it was something else that made him wary - a wrongness, a foulness that oozed towards them like an oil slick. Premonition slithered through his limbs and set the dark creatures that were part of him quivering with excitement. Beneath his skin, the trinity stirred, restless.
Yeah, something was coining — a storm that had nothing to do with the weather.
Two
Over the next two weeks, Jen watched her house bloom as Daemon worked at the repairs. Problem was, she hadn’t expected to be so drawn to him. He was there, in her space, tall and broad and distracting. She caught herself glancing at him again and again, watching the play of muscle under smooth tanned skin, asking him questions just to hear him speak in that low, sexy voice.
She could hear him now, whistling as he worked in the bedroom under the eaves, the one that had been her grandmother’s favourite. The sun had set at least an hour past and creeping shadows darkened the hall. Pausing, she flipped the light switch, and gave a hiss of frustration as she realized the bulb must be burned out.
She made it to the base of the stairs when her insides knotted up tight. Breathing through the cramp, she rested her weight on the crutches, waiting for the twisting coil of pain to pass. Her body was changing, fighting for life. A new life. The one she needed to pass through an agony of fire to achieve. She sighed, wishing there was an easier way. For weeks, the pain inside her had flared and peaked at random times. She’d come to think that it was a good thing that she was on crutches. At least the sudden shards of agony didn’t send her to her knees. But as the pain passed and she contemplated the darkened stairs, she decided that, at the moment, her crutches were a hindrance. They made climbing the steps to talk to Daemon a bother, so she called his name.
She waited, looking up, and frowned. An odd blue light shimmered from the room under the eaves, the one Daemon was working in today. A spotlight of some sort? She meant to ask him about it when he stepped onto the landing, but her words died in her throat. For a long moment, she simply stared. She still hadn’t gotten used to the physical impact of seeing him in her home, especially not the way he looked right now. He was bathed in shadow, his dark hair tousled, his jeans slung low on his hips. A white tank top hugged his muscled torso, and she could see dark tattoos on his skin: a dragon on his left shoulder, another on his right biceps, the hint of a third on the bulge of his pectoral where the tank top dipped.
“You’re working late today,” she observed.
“Just want to finish this room.”
Her gaze flicked beyond him to the dark hallway. There was no sign of the blue light now. Odd.
“I’m heading out to do some grocery shopping. I want to make it to the Shop Rite before they close at nine. If you’re done before I get back, leave by the side door. It’ll lock behind you.” Turning away, she positioned her crutches to make her way to the door. “See you.”
“Jen.” His voice, low and rough, stopped her. The way he said her name made her shiver.