of the field. “I caught her scent when we first arrived.”
Easily distracted, Chaaya whirled to study the low hedge that lined the cobblestone street.
“Can you track her?”
“No, it’s already dissipating.”
“So quickly?”
“Places like this are created to dampen a demon’s presence.”
She turned back, her expression suspicious. “Why would anyone create a place to dampen a demon’s presence?”
“Because most come here to hide from their enemies or simply disappear for a while.”
She continued to study him with a searching gaze, but at last accepting that she had no choice but to accept that he was telling her the truth, she heaved a harsh sigh.
“Well, that sucks,” she muttered. “How am I going to find her?”
“You can’t,” Basq bluntly informed her. “We need to return to the mer-folk castle.”
She snorted, heading for the road. “Not until I have Brigette in my hands. Dead or alive.”
Basq’s fangs throbbed with frustration. He’d spent endless centuries moving from one place to another, always keeping others at a distance. And even when he’d traveled to Vegas to join Chiron, he’d maintained a sense of isolation. He didn’t let anyone ruffle his composure.
And then Chaaya had arrived at Dreamscape, and she’d busted through his carefully constructed barriers. Or maybe she’d used her mysterious abilities to ghost through them.
Either way, she had a unique talent for rousing the emotions he didn’t even know he possessed.
Basq stood still as Chaaya crossed the field. His gaze lowered to take in her fine ass that filled out the leather pants with slender perfection before returning to the shoulders that were set to a stubborn angle. He’d known all along that she was destined to drive him crazy. That’s why he’d tried to convince Chiron to find someone else to act as her babysitter.
Now he was stuck with her. At least until he could get her back to Vegas.
With long strides, he was walking at her side. “Brigette could be anywhere by now.”
“You just said you could smell her.”
“She was dumped here, like us. But she more than likely has already found another portal,” he insisted.
She jumped over the hedge and started down the cobblestone road. “No. She’s here.”
In a blur of motion he was once again walking next to her. “How do you know?”
“Just a feeling.”
“A feeling?”
“Yeah, feeling.” She sent him a mocking smile. “Some of us have more than ice flowing through our veins, leech. We have emotions and intuitions and feelings and…”
Without warning, Basq reached out to grasp her arm. A strange sensation churned through him. Not anger—or at least, not precisely—but a potent combination of need and frustration and something he couldn’t name. Coming to a halt, he turned her to meet his fierce gaze.
“Keep it up,” he growled.
She met his glare without fear. “And?”
The air between them suddenly erupted with a fierce desire. It sizzled and snapped with a tangible force, as if the awareness they both kept tightly leashed had suddenly been ignited by their proximity.
“Neither of us wants to find out,” he warned in a soft tone.
Her mouth parted as if she intended to make a smart-ass comment, but then their eyes clashed and she abruptly snapped her lips shut, jerking her arm free.
“She’s in this dimension,” she insisted, stomping down the road. “I don’t know how I know. My powers are like me. Weird, unpredictable, and usually worthless. But I know.”
Basq resisted the urge to try and stop her. He’d already discovered what happened when he touched her. Combustible desire. Besides, neither of them had the ability to open a portal. They were going to have to find someone in the city to help.
“You are many things, Chaaya,” he muttered, walking into the valley. “But you’re not worthless.”
* * * *
Inga clutched the mighty Tryshu in her hand as she watched Troy saunter into the throne room. He had changed into white leather pants that molded to his long legs and a bright blue Hawaiian shirt he left open to reveal his impressive six-pack.
“Well?” she demanded.
Troy halted next to her, his long crimson hair shimmering like fire in the light of the chandeliers.
“They’re still searching,” he told her.
Inga made a sound of frustration. It’d been Troy who had insisted that she remain in the castle while he sent out several mer-folk to search for Brigette.
“How hard can it be to find a three-foot gargoyle?”
Troy wrinkled his nose. He had an ongoing competition with Levet. Inga didn’t entirely understand it. Some male ego thing that would never make sense to her.
“Unfortunately not hard enough,” he drawled.