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And she was just pissed enough that she wanted to bust into his house and break a few things. Like his head.
She stepped through the now wide open door and took in the rich wood paneling and priceless art covering the high walls of the entry. A huge staircase swept up to the right and a large archway on the left led to a wide hallway. The sheer beauty of the interior was so great that it quashed her previous desire to break things.
Her skin prickled when she looked toward the hallway to the left, so she set off that way. She could almost feel herself being drawn to him. How was it possible after so many years?
Kitty stayed close by her side as she stomped down the hall, her footsteps thudding on the gleaming wooden floor as she made her way past closed doors. A glow emitted from the one at the end of the hall, the light within so bright it shined out from between the cracks at the edges. It beckoned her in the best and worst way.
Her heart pounded in her ears as anticipation fought with her anger.
Bastard.
She shouldn’t want to see him after all these years, but she did. Her hurt over the past had faded some. What was left had turned to anger, which she stoked. She couldn’t bear to relive that crushing pain. So she’d focus on anger.
But she couldn’t help the anticipation.
She sucked in a deep breath and stepped through the doorway. The room within was dark, the only light coming from the large fireplace that was blocked by a man sitting at a desk. She could only make out his silhouette.
She ignored her pounding heart and took in her surroundings, searching for additional trouble. The room wasround, the ceiling soaring high above. She must be in one of the towers. Books lined the walls, stretching up five stories to the domed ceiling. A wide walkway spiraled up the sides of the round room, making it easy to access all the books. Kitty pressed up against her legs, trembling slightly.
Satisfied no other lurked in the shadows, she looked at the man at the desk. Shadows concealed his face, but not the outline of his form. Despite the dark, she could make out the breadth of his shoulders and the fall of his dark hair.
Her heart threatened to break her ribs and a chill broke out on her skin.
Malcolm. Desire that she’d thought long dead rushed through her. Her breath came short. She hadn’t even really seen him yet and she still wanted him. They’d only ever kissed, but memories of his skilled lips bombarded her.
He remained sitting, his feet propped on the gleaming wooden desk. A crystal tumbler of whisky sat in front of him. Firelight set the amber liquid aglow. Her insides tightened as her eyes adjusted to the dim light and she could take him in better.
The man—it really was Malcolm—lazily spun her Demon Blade in one big hand.
“This what you came here for?” His voice was as deep and rich as the darkest chocolate. No sweetness. Just a hint of the bitterness that followed a bite of the rich substance.
Fear suddenly shivered down her spine. She was a powerful Bruxa—powerful enough that she had no need for modesty—but she was also a smart one. And she was right to be afraid.
This wasn’t the Malcolm she remembered. Of course it wasn’t. He was now one of the most powerful beings in all ofthe Mythean world. A warlock. Destruction and power personified. All bought by becoming an Oath Breaker and throwing her away.
The reminder sent anger through her again. A reminder of what she was fighting for. What she’d always been fighting for. Her village. And for the first time since her line had taken up the role of Protector, they were at risk.
Because of this man.
“Yeah, that’s what I came here for.” Her voice could have cut stone. “Now give it back.”
He surged fluidly to his feet, his shoulders blocking out the light of the fire. For such a large man, he was incredibly graceful. He approached her, his gait smooth and long, and she stifled a gasp at his size.
Had she forgotten? Or had he grown? He was at least six and a half feet tall, his shoulders broad and his waist narrow. His sweater and pants were dark and expensive looking. He stopped just inches from her, looming over her.
His scent, rich with spice and darkness, wrapped enticingly around her. He bent his head, seeming to enclose her in an invisible embrace. His dark hair fell around his face. This close, she could make out the masculine beauty of his features. Dark brows and golden eyes, full lips that twisted with a bit of cruelty.
Otherworldly. She trembled as desire surged to the fore again. She might be mad at him. Afraid of him.
But she still wanted him.
“You don’t care at all why I took it?”
Again, the rich timbre of his voice sent a shiver across her skin. Only this time, it wasn’t entirely due to fear. It wasthere, of course, making her skin prickle coldly. But a surge of heat came with it. Desire fueled by fear. He was dangerous.
He raised a hand as if he would touch her. Anticipation streaked through her.Do it.
Hot anger welled within her. At him and herself. He thought he could touch her? And she would let him?
