She swallowed, her throat moving behind the fragile skin of her neck. “I don’t—” she whispered, then sucked in a breath before meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said finally, her voice cracking with emotion. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
He wiped away the lone tear that rolled down her cheek.
“I don’t know—” Her words broke off as she sucked in a breath with a hiccupped sob at the end. “I wish I was someone . . . who could help with what you need. What you probably need, but—”
“Mae,” he chastised quietly. “You are everything you need to be. We will beard this monster Sotiris in his den, you and I. And then, we will find my brothers if they still live—whether already freed or waiting to be found. Will you undertake this venture with me? Fight by my side?”
Her jaw firmed and she nodded, her determined gaze meeting his. “Yes. I can start tonight. I already know a lot about Sotiris, but I’ll find more. He has to be up to more than just gathering a house full of weird stuff.”
“Assuredly. The man couldn’t go a fortnight without causing grief when we fought him.”
Maeve stared. “Wait. He bragged to me about some big project he was working on, and how it would destroy his enemy once and for all.”
“He bragged about planning to kill Nicodemus?”
“Well, no. He never said the name, but isn’t it possible that he meant your Nico? After all, he bragged to me many times about some deal or other that he’d won, that he’d knocked down his competitors. But he never referred to any of them as his enemy.”
Dragan stared back. “If you’re right,” he said thoughtfully, “then Nico’s alive.”
“Exactly.” She nodded eagerly.
Dragan’s expression turned pensive. “But if that’s true, how will you find him? Even I know that this world is huge.”
“The internet,” she said with charming eagerness. “Everything ends up there eventually.”
“The internet. You use your computer for this, correct?”
“Absolutely. And that is totally my playing field. Here, I’ll show you.” She slid her hand away from his in her enthusiasm, as she jumped up to run over to her bed and the flat canvas bag that held her computer.
Dragan swiveled on his chair to watch as she dropped the empty case and hurried back, a broad smile lighting her face. He liked her this way—confident, with her mind spinning ideas so fast he could see them sparkling behind her eyes.
He’d treasured the girl who’d sat next to his statue day after day, who’d brought light to the darkness of his imprisonment, and soothed his battered soul. But the woman . . . this woman was so much more than that. She was kind and compassionate, but she was also courageous enough to take on his problems, and his very existence, without running away in fear, and intuitive enough to see Sotiris for the corruption he was, despite the bastard’s sophisticated exterior. She was brilliant, but stubbornly practical, approaching every obstacle as a problem to be solved and never surrendering until it she’d triumphed.
But she was also lovely and sensual, with eyes that revealed every emotion, and a smile that lit up his world like sunshine on a new morning. Yes, she was innocent, especially compared to his battle-hardened and battered self. He would give her the time she needed and not rush her.
But he wanted her, and for more than a few night’s amusement. He wasn’t sure he deserved her, was almost certain he didn’t. But he wanted her anyway. And he would have her, because he’d been waiting for her all his life.
Chapter Four
The Finger Lakes, NY
SOTIRIS STRODE OUT of the lakefront house, but spun back around before he reached the car. He’d forgotten to set the damn alarm, and the house was completely empty now that the stupid girl had permitted herself to be seduced by that damn winged monster. She’d seemed so biddable for all the years she’d worked for him, but maybe it had been a front all along. Maybe someone had sent her to him to steal what she could. Information, most likely. He’d have known if she’d taken anything else, if any of his artifacts had been missing before. But now she had his hexagon, numerous blades . . . and even his damned warrior.
It had to have been a fluke thing, he reasoned. He couldn’t believe she’d managed to break his curse on purpose. He’d set nearly impossible demands on each of the warrior’s curses, including Dragan’s, then had sealed them with his own substantial power.
It was no coincidence that the others had all been freed recently, one after the other. He’d cast a single spell with Nicodemus’s four warriors as a single target, rather than four separate spells. The first, Damian, had been freed in a completely random bit of luck, but his freedom had nonetheless weakened the overall spell. Sotiris had been infuriated when Kato and Gabriel’s curses had fallen soon after, but he’d taken smug pleasure in the knowledge that their final member would never join them.
Because Dragan had been his “guest” for more than a century, securely locked away and hidden where no one would ever find him. It shouldn’t have been possible for the girl to free him. She wasn’t even supposed to have entered the room, much less have interacted with the damn statue in a way that met the terms of his curse. How the hell had she managed it? The curse had demanded grace from Dragan’s beast, safety in the nightmare of his existence. Granted, Dragan Fiachna had been handsome in his human form, but on that long-ago battlefield, Sotiris had waited until the warrior had been poised for flight, his leathery wings spread and taloned like a demon’s, knees crooked to cast himself into the air, like a giant gargoyle from nightmares.
Where was the grace in a demon’s form, or the safety in wings that were leathery rough and meant for gutting his foes? Hell, if he’d known the girl was a virgin, he’d never have hired her, considering it an abundance of caution.
But even so, had she been trustworthy, she’d have called him the moment she realized what was happening, long before Dragan’s freedom had given him an opportunity to seduce her with his beautiful face and sad story.
Stepping up to his front door once more, he walked over to the panel, and was about to arm the system when he paused with his finger on the keypad. “Bitch thinks she can play me?” he whispered with a private sneer. “We’ll see about that.”
Instead of arming the system, he changed the pass code, and then set the alarm. She’d left plenty of personal property up in her room. It didn’t appear valuable to him, but he wasn’t going to give her a chance to sneak back into his house and reclaim it, either. If she showed up, he’d have her arrested, let her damn family try to fight it. She’d have to sit in jail waiting for them. And wouldn’t that be a rude surprise?