watery depths—it was more than apt. Whoever had built this manor Noa now had much admiration for. She idly wondered if it was the man in the painting in Gabriel’s office. She recalled his eyes; there was a darkness lurking in their depths.
The sight of that savage siren only bolstered her mood. Her feet quickened on the manicured grass beneath her heavy black boots. In minutes she arrived at the folly’s entrance. It was made of gray stone and was swathed in green ivy. The folly had two circular turrets on either side and an imposing wooden door. There were gargoyles on the ledges, and intricate sculptures of flowers carved into bricks here and there.
Noa reached for the doorknob, and it turned under her hand. Either Diel was already here or he had opened the building earlier that day in preparation for their meeting tonight.
Noa slipped inside and descended the stairs before her. Lights had been lit, and she squared her shoulders as she stepped into the main body of the building. The folly wasn’t big, and Noa could see every part of it. As Diel had said, it had been fashioned into a training ring of sorts. Both dummy and real weapons hung on the wall. But despite the training additions to the old building, some of the original features still remained. The large hearth on the main wall raged with flames.
They danced before Noa’s eyes as she took calming breaths, her body prepped and primed for the fight that was about to commence. The impressive heat kissed the skin on her face, and the smoke began to sink into the strands of her hair. Noa closed her eyes and took a deep inhale. On her third exhale, she heard the door to the folly open behind her, and she smiled.
He was here.
Noa turned and stood dead center in the room, chin high, waiting for Diel to walk through. She slid the keys into a hidden pocket … then Diel appeared at the entrance. It felt as though he filled up the entire alcove.
Noa’s heart fired into a sprint and her lungs sucked in extra air at the sight of him. He was dressed in dark jeans and boots, and nothing else. His chest was bare but for his Fallen brand, his mass of scars and his collar. His dark hair was mussed, and random locks fell across his forehead, failing to conceal the bright blue eyes that had immediately captured Noa in their trap.
Noa’s legs clenched together as he slowly descended the staircase, his head ticking as man and monster fought for dominance.
Not long now.
The wind blew outside, sneaking down to the hearth, whistling as it escaped into the room. Diel’s collar crackled, anticipation clogging the hot air. Noa’s gaze traveled over every inch of him. He was magnificent. Broad and toned and filled with the hedonistic promise of death. Nothing excited Noa more than life and death hanging in the balance.
The unknown.
“You showed,” Noa finally said. The logs on the fire hissed and spat as they burned behind her.
Diel smiled, and Noa felt her stomach flip. He really was such a handsome, impressive killing machine. His head jerked. “I wanted to see you.” His voice was deep and graveled, and Noa knew she was speaking to the monster at that moment.
She took a single step forward. The veins in Diel’s muscles protruded, and his neck tightened with strain. Then his smile fell, and Noa knew it was the man. “Stop stalling,” he said. Noa felt just as excited to face him as she had the monster. The lovely monster was tamed; it was the man who needed to be unleashed.
Diel curled his hands into fists, but his face adopted a mocking expression. “Killer,” he said. Noa took a pause. “Killer, killer, killer,” he repeated, trying to get a rise from her.
But the taunt fell off Noa like hot blood off a freshly sharpened knife. “You think that offends me?” She took a step backward as Diel moved forward. He stopped in the center of the folly. An ancient iron chandelier hung from the domed ceiling above them, the wind from the chimney rocking its considerable weight back and forth—a countdown to their oncoming collision.
Noa began to circle Diel’s wide, cut body. There wasn’t an inch of his torso that wasn’t scarred or viciously marked, yet to her his ruined skin was as beautiful as a burnt-orange sunset.
Noa felt the darker side of her soul clawing to the