by Laura Kaye
Since he’d earlier popped out of thin air and sneaked up behind her, he supposed he shouldn’t take it personally that a single look at him sent her into a terror. But how was he supposed to know that she wouldn’t believe she was actually seeing him all those earlier times he’d manifested in front of her. He’d had to take it up a notch or he’d have ended up wasting time convincing her he was real.
It wasn’t the first time he’d encountered the human propensity to deny what was right in front of their faces.
“You’re still here,” she said, gaze raking over him, body braced for fight or flight. Again.
How could he reassure her? Keeping his feet and body planted in front of the door, he slowly raised his hands. “I’m not here to hurt you. But I do require answers.”
“Oh, well, then.” She scoffed, but he could see through the false bravado to the fear underneath. It showed in the jumping vein on the side of her neck and the hands she knotted to hide their trembling. “About what?”
“What you are and why you paint those images,” he said, nodding toward the far side of the room.
“What I am? You mean, a painter?”
“Don’t play dumb, human. It’s clear you wield magic.”
She frowned with her whole face and pulled her legs tighter against herself. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, shaking her head and glancing sideways. No doubt evaluating her options for escape.
Might as well put that one to rest right now. “You cannot escape. And you cannot harm me. So save your energy.” He arched an eyebrow and dared her to challenge him. Color rose into her cheeks and anger made her gray eyes almost sparkle, but she held her tongue. “Who are you working for?”
“I hear that the words you’re speaking are English, but you might as well be speaking Chinese for as much as you’re making sense to me.”
Though her fear was obvious, he sensed no subterfuge from her. Still… “Who are you related to, then?”
She frowned. “You mean, like, my father?” Devlin gave a single, sharp nod. “His name is Garrett Fallston. Why? What does he have to do with this?” She bolted off the couch but stopped short of coming within arm’s reach. Like that mattered. “You better not have hurt him!”
Devlin towered over her. In neither height nor breadth of shoulder did she begin to compete with him. And her weight in his arms had been next to nothing. Surely she had seen these differences between them, too. But it didn’t keep her from standing up for her father, from desiring to protect him, even if their differences gave her no meaningful way of doing so. A grudging respect settled into his gut. “I don’t know anything about him. I’m talking about the god that gave you your magic.”
“Magic?” she asked in a fear-twisted voice. She blanched and shook her head. “Oh, God, you’re crazy.”
The accusation was like a blow to the gut, stealing his breath and beckoning a knee-jerk defensiveness. Devlin knew crazy. Crazy gleefully killed its offspring. Crazy tortured and tormented those it should care for. Crazy yearned to take over the world and punish it for every perceived slight it had ever experienced.
His father was crazy. Certifiably. Maliciously. Incurably.
The last thing Devlin wanted was to be anything like his father, but he was well aware that the maelstrom of rage and grief always swirling inside him set him on the same path of damnation. Question was, had he traveled that path too far already to ever make his way back?
His Anemoi brethren certainly thought so. Preternatural heat whipped through him and crackled over his palms.
“Be that as it may,” he seethed, “tell me how you came into your magic. Now.”
Taking a slow step backward, Anna threw out her hands. “What magic?”
Devlin muscled back his growing irritation, but didn’t bother to hide his hands when they started throwing off sparks. “The glowing paint. Your command over light and dark.”
Her gaze on the growing fireworks, Anna swallowed, the sound thick and dry. “I…” Retreating another step, she shook her head. “I don’t—”
Devlin closed half of the space between them in the blink of an eye. “The truth, human. I saw it with my own eyes. I have neither the time nor the tolerance for lies.”
Eyes wide, Anna’s gaze jumped from his hands to his face. “Why do you keep calling me that?” she whispered.
He willed himself to move right in front of her, causing her to gasp and stumble into the metal rack behind her. The words came out low and cold as ice. “Because that is what you are. Mostly. Which brings me back to your relations.”
“I’m just…a woman,” she said, pressing herself back into the skeletal structure of the metal behind her.
Devlin didn’t allow her the space, and he leaned into her until their faces nearly touched. “You deny making the colors glow?” He pointed to the paintings. “Creating light and shadow with a wave of your hand as you paint?”
Impossibly, her face paled further. “I…I…I don’t know. It just…happens,” she said, her voice and body trembling as though she was freezing. A whimper spilled from her throat. The lights flickered.
Devlin pointed toward the ceiling and arched a brow. “And that, too.”
Anna’s gaze followed his gesture, and in the silence all that sounded was her breathing and the steady drumming of rain on the metal roof. “What? I didn’t—”
“Enough! People’s lives are on the line!” he roared. Devlin felt the energy congregating in her muscles a breath before she tried to make a run for it. She cried out, and the room went suddenly pitch black. Again. Not this time, little human. He stepped so tight against her that his legs surrounded hers, his arms braced on the shelves around her shoulders. His body completely boxed her in until they touched from thigh to forehead.
She fought him, just as she had last time, squirming and kicking and pushing.
Attempting to halt her assault without harming her, Devlin banded his arms around her and hauled her so tightly into his chest that he lifted her from the floor.
Which created another problem. Because her writhing motions were so fucking arousing that his mind fogged, his focus fragmented, his body tensed.
Not because of her fear. Because of her touch.
But if he let her go, he’d just find himself playing cat and mouse with her around the room again until they ended up back where they were right now.
He sucked in a fast breath as her hips shifted against his and her teeth sank into his neck.
Long buried and totally base desire stirred from somewhere down deep.
Instinctively, Devlin flashed into the elements, shielding his body from these physical sensations by becoming the wind. The relief from the pressure of his own neglected needs flowed through him.
Oh my God, what’s happening? Anna.
She’d joined him. Of course she had. Touching her as he shifted forms changed hers as well. He’d known this was possible, but had never actually engaged in such a thing himself.
And though the transformation had ended his physical torment and her ability to fight, what hadn’t gone away was her proximity. In the wind, their essences entwined so completely that he felt as surrounded as she must’ve moments before.
Mister? Are you still here? Oh my God!
We’re in the wind. If you’ll stop fighting and answer my damn questions, I will return us.
Despite the terseness of his words, the panic receded from her energy. I’m trying, she said, but I don’t know how to answer everything you’re asking. But…but I’ll try. The lights strobed, then finally stayed on again, clearing up any remaining doubt he might’ve had that she was the cause of the outages.
As important, her earnestness reverberated through her essence and into him. The strength of it was so…strange. Gods were a lot of things, but honest and genuine were not among their strong suits. At least, not in Devlin’s experience. Farren. Farren had been the truest, most honorable god he knew. His middle brother had been good to
the core. In the end, that had prevented him from seeing their father’s true nature. Not that Devlin blamed him. What he wouldn’t give to be able to believe in goodness, to expect something besides treachery.
The memories of his brother forced Devlin to another realization—he hadn’t had companionship while in the elements since before Farren died. If he didn’t count the many times his father had forced him into the elements against his will to do his bidding, Anna, a slip of a mortal woman, was the first being with whom he’d voluntarily shared the wind in over a century. Desire for companionship roared through him—and he resented the hell out of it. Because it made him face the ache of his loneliness, all while knowing it wouldn’t be changing any time soon.
A gasp, and then a surge of a powerful emotion so foreign to him he couldn’t immediately identify it. The colors, she said.
Are you there? Anna’s voice—her very self—became a red flag waving in the face of a charging bull. She was the one making him miss things he no longer had and want things he’d never get again.
Suddenly, her proximity was suffocating.
He forced them out of the wind and into the physical world. The moment his molecules slid back into place, Devlin pulled away from Anna, needing to be free of her and everything she unleashed within him.
Chapter Six
Disorientation left Anna feeling like a spinning top twirling at full speed. One second, her body didn’t exist, but she could somehow still see the room as though she remained in it. The next second, her feet were on the ground again and her shoulders crashed against the metal shelf behind her. Her vision blurred and warped, and she flung out her hands in an attempt to find something—anything—to which she could anchor herself.
Her right hand caught hold of the corner support of the old store shelving as the world in front of her began to obey physics again. “What the hell just happened?” she rasped, heart racing in her chest.
“I’m…” A throat cleared. “I didn’t know it would be like that for you,” came a low voice.
Forcing a deep breath, Anna turned and found the Dark Man watching her, full lips frowning, brows slashed downward. Except, no way this guy was a man, was there? Not after that little trick. More than that, the way he’d advanced on her as he questioned her before their disappearing act. He moved without moving. Or, rather, without taking steps with his feet as normal people did. Another argument that he wasn’t a man. Her brain resurrected the memories of all the times he’d disappeared after she’d seen him, and there was no question.
“Are you a ghost?” she whispered. The hair on her arms raised just giving voice to the suspicion.
“No. I’m a god,” he said, totally deadpan, that same dark expression on his harsh face.
A god?Oh, great. A ghost with a sense of humor. “You’re making fun of me.”
“No.”
Feeling that the floor was steady beneath her feet again, Anna let go of the shelf and slowly turned toward him. Between the black and the leather and the scowl, he didn’t look like any god she’d ever imagined. Not that she spent much time imagining such things. Still, he’d made her body disappear, and that sure made him something.
Needing a break from his intensity, she stepped toward the couch.
The man—or whatever he was—stepped in front of her.
“I was just going to…” She gestured toward the couch.
He didn’t move. “You won’t try to escape.” Not a question.
Still, she answered. “No.” She met his eyes, even though the intensity staring back at her was difficult to hold. “You made your point.” With a single nod, he stepped aside, but quickly took up the role as her shadow as they crossed to the old sofa. She sat. He didn’t. Picking at a bit of dried blue paint on her finger, she appreciated having something to concentrate on that was so mundane, so normal. Because if he was telling the truth… Just wow. Consider her mind blown. She gave him a quick sideways glance.
She dropped her hands into her lap and peered up at him. “So, a god?” she asked, her brain still reeling.
“Yes,” he said after a moment.
No hesitation, no awkwardness—her gut said he told the truth, no matter how fantastical it was. Her belly flip-flopped as if her life had just taken a hard right turn at full speed. Could this really be possible? Anna blew out a shaky breath. “Um, do you have a name?”
His gaze narrowed as he tilted his head. “Devlin.”
A shiver broke out over her skin despite how normal the name sounded. Then again, the archangels had names like Michael and Gabriel, assuming they’d actually been real. Which, if Devlin was really a god…
“Um,” she said, meeting his eyes. He wore an almost wary expression, which seemed odd given who, or what, he was. Why in the world would a god be wary of her? “God? God of what?”
Dark eyes narrowed. “I am the god of autumn rain and heir to the East Wind.”
Blinking, Anna struggled to make sense of the words. “I, uh…wow.” She tucked strands of hair behind her ears. “So, the nonstop rain we’ve had…” He nodded, then arched a brow she could just make out through the long strands of hair across his forehead. Suddenly, the room went totally silent except for the chaos between Anna’s own ears. Because the drumming on the roof had ceased. Completely and instantly. She bolted to her feet. “Did you just—”
“Yes.” He stepped closer, unintentionally towering over her. Granted, Anna was short, but Devlin was also unusually tall. The top of her head didn’t even reach his shoulders. “Now, have you had enough proof that I am what I say?”
Though she still had a million questions, none doubted his divinity. The man—god—could control the weather, for God’s sake. Annnd now that phrase took on a whole new meaning. Shaking her head from the ridiculous thoughts, she met Devlin’s gaze. “I believe you.”
Devlin’s eyes widened as if she’d surprised him, and light flared from behind his eyes.
Attracted to the strangeness of that light, Anna stepped closer. The movement sent her heart into heavy thuds against her breastbone, because her most primal instincts were jangling with the awareness that Devlin could easily turn his powers on her. Already had. Not that he’d hurt her. Slowly, she reached up a hand, curious to see if the light would reflect on her skin.
He flinched, his head and shoulders jerking back. Without her even seeing the movement, his hand caught her wrist. An odd prickly heat emanated from his palm against her skin. Tension bristled out of him, and the light grew more intense.
“I’m sorry,” she said, reeling back from him as much as his hold would let her. So stupid, Anna. The sound of his voice yelling at her not to touch him earlier came flooding back to her. “I didn’t mean anything. Your eyes are glowing again. I just wanted to…” She bowed her head as blood pounded behind her ears. “I’m sorry.”
His grip loosened, then released her altogether. “You are curious,” he said.
She nodded, uncertain if there was a correct answer here, one that kept her with all her parts firmly attached where they were right now. Fingers caught her chin and tilted her face upward. Intensity radiated from his gaze, his expression, the hard set of his jaw.
Anna’s heart tripped into a sprint. “I’m sorry,” she blurted again in a fast, whispered rush. “I’m completely color-blind. Except when I paint, my world is all shades of black and white. But painting in color has allowed me to learn to distinguish shades of gray enough to recognize them as colors. And when your eyes glow, the shade makes me think of the color purple.”
“My eyes are black,” he said.
She lifted her gaze and shook her head despite the hold of his fingers on her chin. “Doesn’t look that way to me.”
As his gaze bored into hers, his expression was part curiosity, part wariness. Devlin dropped his hands and raked them through his hair, pushing the longish strands of black out of his face…and giving her a clear view of his eyes. And his harshly handsome face, all sharp angles and dark shadows. Rad
iating power from the intense stare of his eyes to the hard clench of his jaw. After a moment, his eyebrows lifted as if to say, Well, what are you waiting for?
“It’s okay,” she said in a low voice. She took a small step backward, not wanting to make another mistake. “I don’t—”
In a flash of imperceptible motion, Devlin advanced on her, grasped her hand again, and lifted it toward his face.
Anna nearly stumbled forward he’d so surprised her with the movement. Once she recovered, she moved her hand closer, still held in his grip, until she was a few inches from his left eye, almost as if she were going to cup his cheek. Light danced across her palm. She gasped. “Do you see that?” she asked, glancing to his eyes.
Suspicion shaped everything about his expression. His gaze flickered from her body, so close to his, to her face, and finally to her hand. His brows cranked down. “Yes,” he said, surprise lightening his tone. A little. “It is a visible manifestation of our power. Happens sometimes. I’ve seen it in my…in others, but never paid much attention to it in myself.”
Anna smiled, enjoying the low rumble of his voice, and curious as she’d maybe ever been in her life about another person. “Something tells me you’re not the type to stand around primping in front of mirrors.”
His gaze cut to hers, and the corner of his lip almost lifted into something that might’ve eventually become a smile. Then it was gone. And so, apparently, was his patience for their little getting-to-know-you moment. He dropped her hand, crossed his arms, and shuttered all emotion from his eyes. “I need to know about the paintings, Anna. And I need to know right now.”
…
Devlin wasn’t sure what in Hades had possessed him to encourage Anna, but her closeness, her heat, her wonder worked on his senses in ways that completely frickin’ overwhelmed him. He’d wanted her smile, her laughter, her touch. Add her easily stated belief in his identity—which was a little thing but, pathetically, way more than he ever got from anyone else—and it all left him feeling a lot as though the earth had started rotating in the wrong direction. Like he needed anything else knocking him off kilter.
