details were moving. Writhing.”
“He was trying to intimidate you.” And it hadn’t worked well, something Reed noted and admired. “Infernals can move them at will, and only others of their kind and Marks can see the show.”
“That’s why no one paid much attention to him on the beach?”
“Exactly. Some Infernals prefer to keep their details as visible as possible, especially if they’re higher ranking. Others prefer to keep them out of sight to maintain a low profile. They can’t remove them, but they can put them in places no one wants to look.” He shrugged elegantly. “Pointless, really, because they stink so bad you can smell them coming. And when their number’s up, it’s up. Hidden details or not, once they’re in the queue, it’s only a matter of time.”
“Is that what that smell was? It reeked like a sewer.”
“Rotting soul. You can’t miss it.”
Her eyes widened with such horror, Reed felt a sharp tinge of sympathy . . . even as he appreciated how her inevitable resentment would create a rift between her and Cain.
Eve leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table and staring at him with a grimly determined gaze. “How do I get out of this gig?”
“There’s no way—”
“I don’t believe that. There has to be a way.”
Leaning back, he settled more comfortably into his chair. “Why?”
“Because I feel like a victim, that’s why.” Her jaw hardened. “And I’m not the type to take it lying down.”
“A victim.” He stilled at that.
“Wouldn’t you feel the same in my shoes?” she challenged.
Maybe. Probably.
“You’ve been placed in a position of power,” he prevaricated, “and given the tools to change the world and make it safer for others. Can’t you view this as a blessing rather than a curse?”
“The Mark of Cain is a blessing? You’re slick, but not that slick. And I’m not stupid.”
“Slick?”
The waiter returned with a tray bearing two bottles of beer, two shot glasses, and chips and salsa. Eve sat back to make room. Reed continued to watch her, smiling.
“The clothes. The cockiness.” An impatient hand gesture encompassed him from head to toe. “Slick.”
“Style and confidence, babe. I happen to like both qualities.” His voice lowered. “So do you.”
She shook her head, but the look in her eyes gave proof to his statement.
Reed reached over and caught her hand. Her fingers were long and slender, her skin soft as silk. That would change. Wield a weapon often enough and it left its mark with roughened flesh. “You don’t have to admit it.”
“I won’t.”
He bared her wrist, then lowered his head. As his lips parted and his tongue stroked across her vein, Eve watched in helpless fascination. He could smell her growing arousal and knew she’d be hot and wet. Her recently acquired hyperactive sex drive was a godsend to his plan to have her again, no pun intended. Restraint was difficult the first few years. The heightened senses and fluctuating emotions were killer until one learned to control or ignore them. The best and fastest way to release all that tension was with long, hard sex. Reed was determined to be the man Eve turned to as a pressure valve.
Straightening, he kept his gaze locked with hers. He reached for the salt with one hand, slowly stroking across her palm with the thumb of the other.
“Where is this going?” Her normally clipped tone was softened by hoarseness.
“To bed.”
“Not with me.”
He smiled and sprinkled salt over her damp skin. Picking up a shot glass, Reed licked her wrist and tossed back the tequila.
Eve handed him a slice of lime. “You’re not here to get laid.”
“How can you be sure?” He bit into the tart pulp with relish.
“You’re the type who likes to be chased, not do the chasing.”
“You don’t know me as well as you think. But that’ll change.”
“I told you, I want out.” With an offhand toast, Eve downed her shot and chased it with a long swig of the beer. She growled. “Okay. This sucks. It’s like drinking water.”
“You can’t bargain with God, Eve.”
“You can bargain with anyone, as long as you have something they want that they can’t get anywhere else.” She turned her head, her gaze moving to the strip of street visible from her position.
His glance followed hers. Sport-utility vehicles traveled alongside luxury sports cars. Joggers and in-line skaters weaved in and around each other.
“Are some of those people . . . Infernals?” she asked.
“Certainly.”
She glanced back at him. “They coexist peacefully with the rest of us?”
“If you call living with