Dark Desires After Dusk (Immortals After Dark #6)(32)

Once she was finished with her bag, she stood, no doubt scanning for more disarray. If her eyes had gone wild at the sight of him scrounging through her bag, then seeing her laptop open and out of place made her sway on her feet. “No . . . you . . . my computer?”

Holly cast him the same look he’d give a hellhound that had eaten his Super Bowl tickets. She secured the laptop, assessing it, turning it this way and that. “Your hands were sticky! Oh, God!”

He might’ve had a donut or two while he’d been waiting for his order.

She dove for her antibacterial wipes. Sitting on the bed, she turned from him, hunching over the computer, wiping it down.

He could only watch her actions in grim fascination, noting her shoulders rising and falling as she took deep, calming breaths.

Apparently reassured that nothing was screwed, she put the computer back on the desk, arranging it by the cell phone, then smoothed the comforter where she’d sat.

“Look, Cadeon,” she began, but her gaze drifted back to the computer. She hurried back, adjusting it less than a millimeter to one side, then started again. “Last night I was too stunned to react to half the things you did. Now I’m not. You won’t be able to treat me as you have been.”

“Oh? Like with the saving your life and then driving you all night while you slept?”

“Like with the t-touching my computer. That was . . . bad. I’m not saying you can’t use it—I don’t mind sharing. But I need to sign you in and make sure you know how to treat it properly.”

“I wasn’t downloading porn or anything.” Didn’t occur to me at the time. “Just Googled some things and checked our route for tonight.”

“Well, that’s not the only area with you that has to change. There can’t be any more planning to undress me as I sleep or bursting in on my shower and ogling me. Or even calling me those sexist pet names.”

“You mean my endearments? What’s wrong with them?”

“They’re belittling to women.”

He shook his head firmly. “None doing. It’s just habit. This is the way males used to talk to females. And the endearments are female specific.”

“Like how?”

“Like pet or poppet? I only call females I like by those.” Only females he really liked. Pet was proprietary and poppet indicated affection. In other words, he’d never used those terms before. “If I’m not interested in a female, I’ll call her sweet, sweetheart, or dove.”

“Should I feel moved by this revelation? Honored to be deemed poppet?”

“I was going for charmed. But you’re a hard one, pet.”

“I’d be more inclined to be charmed if you had any respect for my privacy.”

“We’re going to be stuck together for at least a couple of weeks. Maintaining privacy would take too much effort, and would be futile anyway.”

She pursed her lips, as if she couldn’t argue with that. “Well, what about your cursing? Must you be so foul-mouthed around me?”

“I’ve been using those words since before humans decided they were foul.” He began to set out food from the bag.

“Those kinds of terms are very jarring to people who were raised to avoid them . . . .” She trailed off. “Are those oatmeal pancakes?”

“They are.”

“With honey?”

“Of course.”

He knew her mouth was watering. “There wasn’t any orange juice?”

“Oh, there was.”

He dug into another bag and produced individually packaged cereals, a plastic spoon still in its wrapper, a sealed carton of milk and one of orange juice.

She narrowed her eyes. “All prepackaged. Exactly how long have you been watching me, Cadeon?”

“Long enough to know what you like to eat, and what you will eat . . .”





14





I guess I wasn’t that hungry anyway.” Holly pushed her plate away after finishing only half of her breakfast.

“It’s the change,” Cadeon said. “Valkyrie don’t eat.”

“How is that even possible?”

“Dunno. How’s it possible for shifters to change form, or witches to move things with their minds?”

After she threw the breakfast trash away, fatigue set in. It didn’t help when he turned on a low lamp and pulled the heavier layer of drapes closed.

She sank down on the edge of the bed. Her body was exhausted, but her senses felt alive, humming. Hypersensitivity? She believed it. And now she was in a darkened hotel room, alone with a demon she’d had not-so-subtle dreams about.

Though she’d have thought his horns would be off-putting—not to mention his boorish behavior—she was actually feeling an inexplicable attraction to the demon. And she’d already had trouble controlling her urges.

Holly had experienced a variety of fears and idiosyncrasies and had been medicated for them. Now without her medicine . . . what would she do?

Somehow, she had to get her refills, not only to stifle these compulsions—but also to slow this progression.

Progression? Could she possibly get worse?

She recalled her parents taking her to Pompous Shrink, the “best in the state.” He’d droned on and on about her fragile mental health to her poor parents . . . .