hell of a lot more sense for Adare to get to know his mate. Perhaps Fate had had a hand in their meeting. Maybe not. Who knew? “Perhaps you should try and make it a genuine mating. A relationship, or whatever.”
Adare’s black eyes narrowed. “Why are you a romantic all of a sudden?”
Ivar frowned. “I’m not.”
“Are too.”
“Am not.” Centuries ago, he’d lost a sister who’d only been in her teens, and he had a soft spot for females who needed help. Since he had identified his trigger, it was okay. At least, that’s what his shrink had said. “I just want to keep Promise safe until we take out the Kurjans. And the Cyst. Everyone who wants to use or hurt her needs to die.” There. That made perfect sense.
Adare whistled, both of his eyebrows rising. “I hate to lower myself to the vernacular of the day, but what the hell. Dude, you have it bad for her.”
Hearing the Highlander say the word “dude” lightened Ivar’s spirits just enough that he no longer needed to kill somebody right this second. He’d been pissed off since the Cyst had attacked the apartment. The image of Promise trying to ward off a deadly soldier with a fucking sofa pillow kept running through his mind like a bad film. Now he had her ensconced in a crappy cabin with barely working electricity. “I just want to keep her safe. Don’t make things up in your crazy head,” Ivar returned. He wasn’t sane enough for a relationship, and since he was planning to go back to hell to take Quade’s place, he didn’t have anything to offer a female.
Except protection for now.
Adare finally smiled. “Well, I’m going to go fight with my mate some more. You’ve put off your interaction with the pretty Dr. Promise long enough. Stop being a wimp.”
Ivar wanted to get ticked and argue, but the guy was right. “Fine.” He turned and exited again, walking past two cabins and reaching the one he hoped to share with Promise. Sitting outside all day and night would suck. He opened the door and walked inside, his senses instantly tuning in to her.
She sat on a torn sofa, bundled in a homemade quilt provided by Benny, her gaze on the crackling fire in the old stone fireplace. The light danced across her smooth features, highlighting her glossy dark hair. She sat with her legs extended on a rickety coffee table, her lips pursed. Different expressions filtered through her beautiful eyes. She didn’t look his way. “What are you?” she asked quietly.
* * * *
Promise banished all feeling, ignoring the tingling around her lungs. The body dealt with stress in some odd ways.
Ivar shut the door, and the room instantly warmed. “I’m a hybrid.”
She turned then, surprised to see him in clean clothing with his hair wet. He’d jumped in the river? A plain dark T-shirt stretched across his strong chest, while faded jeans covered his long legs. “Part human and part what?” She’d seen fangs. Both he and the white-faced scary soldier had shown fangs. So vampires truly existed.
“Not human. I’m a vampire-demon hybrid.” His eyes had returned to the wild blue-green mix of the night before.
Vampires and demons. “Oh my,” she muttered, unable to help herself. She swallowed several times. “You’re from hell?” So much for being agnostic.
“No.” He strode forward, all grace and purpose. “I’m from here. Vampires and demons are just different species from humans.” He sat on the sofa, rocking her toward him. “Humans have twenty-three chromosomal pairs, right?”
She nodded.
He extended his legs, his boots making her stocking-covered feet look ridiculously small. “Demons have thirty-two, vampires thirty, Kurjans thirty, witches twenty-nine, shifters twenty-eight, and mates of any of us twenty-seven.”
She withdrew her legs and turned to face him on the sofa, tucking one foot beneath her. “What?”
He grinned. “There are many different species. We’ve only recently learned the chromosomal differences. Score one for human geneticists.”
She shook her head. “Wait a minute. Witches? Shifters?” Reality was splitting in two in the worst application of fissure imaginable.
“Yes.” He turned his head, his gaze direct. “Witches use the elements to create fire. They do not turn people into frogs.” His voice was low and soothing. Well, as soothing as his rasp could be. “Shifters can change shape into canine, feline, or ursine. Oh, and dragons, but that’s a secret.”
That was the secret? Even her feet felt stunned. How was that possible? “Wait. Mates?”
“Yeah.” He rolled his neck, looking back toward the fire.