Jorlan crossed his arms over his chest. “Katie asked me to be gentle with you, thus I will ignore the disrespectful tone you continue to use while addressing me.”
Ryan stared at him in stunned disbelief. However, his expression eventually softened. He settled on the couch with a loud plop. “Are you still set on leaving or what?”
“Mayhap.” He knew he wanted to stay with Katie; he could not abide the thought of being without her. But staying on Earth meant never seeing his mother again, never becoming king, if that was his destiny, and never aiding his people. Never studying with the Druinn to learn to control his magic. Never using magic, period.
Ryan nodded. “Well. Make up your mind. There’s nothing worse than indecision.”
“There is more to the decision than you understand.”
“Son, there’s nothing to understand. You either do what it takes to stay, or you leave. Me personally? I hope you stay. You’re just what she needs. She runs roughshod over everyone else, but you, I think, will have a chance of corralling her.”
“She needs no corralling.”
Ryan smiled faintly. “She’s my only daughter, you know. My baby.”
“Aye. I know.”
“Looks just like her mother. A bit taller, though. She gets that from me.” Proud tone. Proud bearing.
Jorlan chose not to respond. He remained quiet, thereby encouraging Ryan to get lost in his memories. Only when the male’s eyes glazed over did he say, “Tell me about young Katie.” Imagining her with chubby pink cheeks and pale hair wild and tangled as she chased after her brothers, he grinned. And ached with some mysterious emotion.
“Katie’s always been such a stubborn girl. Likes to keep me on my toes.” The detective launched into a tale about a time Katie collected a family of frogs in a lunch box to sneak them inside her room. “Her mother had died only weeks before, and she hoped to ensure the frogs stayed together forever.”
Little Katie, sad and lonely. Pang. “Why do you treat her as a servant?”
Ryan lost his soft edge. “I have never mistreated my baby girl.”
“Oh, but you do. You command her to serve you.”
A lengthy pause ensued. Then, Ryan expelled a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right, but my intensions are good. I only wish to protect her. Women are gentle creatures and in need of protection, even from themselves.”
Once, Jorlan would have agreed with him. After spending time with Katie, he readily admitted the wrongness of such a mindset. Gender had nothing to do with strength of mind or body.
Jorlan decided to answer the detective’s initial question. “My intentions toward your daughter are honorable. I asked her to wed me, but she said no.”
Ryan blinked with surprise. “Did she give you a reason for the refusal?”
“Aye, but ’tis between Katie and me.”
“Well, I recommend you keep asking until she changes her mind. That girl is crazy about you.” He pushed to his feet and slapped Jorlan on the shoulder. “Good luck, son. You’re going to need it.” He strolled off, only to pause in the doorway to say, “Oh, one last thing. If you hurt her, I will kill you and no one will ever find your body.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
HEATHER WENT TO BED early that night, as she had the last two nights, hoping for another visit from her dream man. She didn’t have to wait long. Just as he had the other times, Percen materialized at her side as soon as she flipped off the bedside lamp, as if he couldn’t wait to see her.
She snuggled against him, his body heat enveloping her, and she could not deny the truth. She was wide-awake; she wasn’t dreaming, yet here he was. She’d suspected he was more than a figment of her imagination, but now she knew for sure.
He was real.
The realization should have frightened her, but didn’t. He was real, yes, but he was also peace.
How could he—what was the word? Oh, yeah. Teleport.
Whomever he was, whatever he was—a ghost? vampire?—she loved spending time with him.
He’d told her she belonged to him, and Heather wanted those words to be true. She wanted to be his, totally and completely. He hadn’t made love to her yet, or touched her in a sexual way.
Silently, she studied this man she’d known only a short time, who’d become one of the most important people in her life. As she took in each of his features, he frowned and stiffened.
Wait a sec. His face…why did he look like he wore a mask? His usually flawless skin, up-tilted eyes and straight, even nose appeared…too perfect? He was as beautiful as ever, his skin wonderfully tanned, his muscles hard as stone, but something wasn’t right.
Maybe he’d always looked this way, and she was only just noticing. Or maybe she’d never seen his true face? But…how was that possible? How was any of this possible?
His gaze met hers before darting away, but not before she caught a glimpse of mortification and deeply ingrained vulnerability. In that moment, he reminded her of herself, wounded and weary, and she wondered if he possessed the same bone-deep hurts as her.
“I’m glad you came back,” she whispered into the darkness.
“As am I. I cannot stay away.”
Happiness set in. “I can’t get you out of my mind,” she admitted. “Every moment I worked, every moment I breathed I thought about you, wishing you were next to me.”
He paused, hope radiating from his pores. Each syllable emerged stilted and hesitant, he asked, “What were your thoughts?”
“I thought of the way you hold me, and the way you warm me. How much I enjoy both.”
At first, he didn’t respond. Nervousness got the better of her. What if he preferred hard-to-get women and liked the challenge of a chase? What if her easy surrender drove him away?
Then he spoke. “I like that you think of me, angel, I truly do, but mayhap you should not. I am not a good man.” The admission came reluctantly, and she noticed that every muscle in his body was tense, as if he was prepared to bolt. “What’s more, you have never seen my true countenance. I am…not a handsome man.”
Though she trembled, she reached up to trace the line of his jaw. He felt real. “I don’t understand.”
“What you perceive me to be is merely a mirage. A mask of the man I can never be.” His dark, gritty tone had an accusatory edge. “I cast a spell that causes you to see only what I want you to see.”
Spell? “You’re a witch? I mean, a warlock?” Was that the correct term? “They refer to beings who use magic. Fictional beings. I used to believe magic was real but…”
“Oh, magic is real, and I most definitely wield it. I am a sorcerer. The Druinn high priest.”
As a teenager, she’d dabbled in the supernatural arts, hoping to escape the terror of her life. But nothing and no one had ever helped her. “I have never met a handsome man I liked, until you. I don’t care about your outward appearance. Whatever you are and whatever you can do, I feel safe with you. You’ve been good and decent to me.”
He didn’t comment, just caressed her cheek. While his hand appeared smooth and unblemished, it felt rough with calluses and scars. Another mask? Either way, the sensation elicited tingles at the back of her neck.