Something akin to remorse.
“It is an artifact from ancient times. It’s worth quite a bit of money. I have many relics from different cultures in my col ection. I see this one as no different.”
“So it’s a possession and nothing more? You have no emotional attachment to it?”
He leaned back in his chair, eyeing her suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m just wondering what would possess a witch to keep something like this around. I know I could never have it in my home. It would constantly give me the creeps, knowing the potential for evil inside.”
“It is not the thing that has dark power, Lyra, but the person wielding it.”
“I suppose.”
He looked at her for a long moment, as if taking in everything about her face. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her so intensely. Could he see the nerves racing through her? Could he sense that his presence was doing all kinds of delicious things to her body? His intense scrutiny made her shiver. “What?” she asked in exasperation.
“I wonder why you regard me with such disdain.”
“I don’t.” She forced her gaze down to the pages of the book, afraid of what he might see in her eyes. The air between them was growing thick again. Heated.
“Then what is it in your eyes that is so potent when you look at me?”
“Anger maybe.”
“You are stil mad at me for not giving you the book?”
“Maybe.”
“Or is it that you are angry because I am here beside you, making you very nervous?”
He seemed to have gotten closer to her without even moving. She could feel the heat of his body pressed intimately against hers. His aura was sparking with a multitude of colors like fireworks. Could that be what she was feeling surrounding her, caressing her skin like a lover? He possessed a lot of magical power. She could hear it humming like an electric razor building around him. Maybe his vampire side increased the flow of it. He frightened her on so many levels that she couldn’t even contemplate them separately.
“You don’t make me nervous.”
“I make you something.” He touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers, tracing one down to her lips.
“I can feel it skimming the surface of your skin. It’s hot, intense, powerful.”
Gazing into his eyes, she should’ve pul ed away. It would’ve been the smart thing to do in a situation like this. But she didn’t want to. Not this time. She liked the touch of his hand on her face, his magic prickled across her skin. And she wondered how it would feel in other places on her body—areas that had no business quivering in response to this man.
Theron represented things she didn’t like in a man and in a witch—arrogance, self-importance and an insufferable attitude.
But stil , from the very moment she’d seen him again, she’d felt drawn to him, as if he had some big part to play in her life.
Maybe, under all his upper-crust snobbery and conceit, he possessed a redeeming heart and spirit.
He leaned toward her mouth, his gaze glued to hers. Her lips tingled in anticipation of his kiss. Her whole body thrummed like plucked guitar strings waiting for the press of his lips. She knew it wouldn’t be gentle. He had too much passion for something as simple as that. The pentagram at her neck stared to vibrate and warm. Instinctively, she reached up for it and pressed her fingertips to it. Something was wrong.
She pul ed away just as Caine marched into the room, a look of unease on his face.
“Merde.”Sighing, Theron let his hand drop and he sat back in his chair.
“What’s wrong, Chief?” Lyra asked.
“There’s been another murder.”
“I knew it was coming. I just knew it.” She rubbed her thumb over her amulet for comfort. Caine’s eyes narrowed and he leaned over the table. “Did you see it in a vision?”
“Not real y. I just…felt it.” Lyra could feel Caine probing her with his extrasensory perception. “Why? What are you looking for? What does it have to do with me?”