“And I have answers, which I’ll share, when the time is right.” He smiled, lifting the darkness from his expression.
She lifted her chin, met his gaze head-on. “No, Nicolas. I want answers. Right now.”
Chapter 4
Maggie wanted answers he could not give. Not now. Not in her present inebriated state. He needed her alert. Yet perhaps this was best. Her inhibitions gone, maybe she’d stop clinging to logic and believe. The Morph’s claws had sunk into his cheek, but he’d dispatched the enemy easily. Now the lacerations barely stung. By tomorrow they would vanish.
She folded her arms across her stomach. The move served to thrust her breasts at him in a delectable invitation. His gaze dropped to the inviting valley between the lacy cups.
Nicolas longed to run his tongue there. Chart new territory.
“Nicolas? What was out there?”
He raised his gaze to meet hers. He’d feed her some information, see how she reacted.
“Sit, Maggie.” He steered her over to the plush floral couch. She sat, rather unsteadily.
“What attacked your door, and what I took care of, was a creature called a Morph. A shape-shifter.”
She gave him a blank stare. He pressed on. “It uses dark magick to change into any kind of animal form and seeks to destroy. It feeds off the energy and fear of a dying victim. It needs constant energy to stay alive and work magick. The slower the victim dies, or the more fear the person produces, the richer the food source.”
He paused, studying the disbelief dawning in her eyes.
“It’s after you, Maggie.”
Maggie rubbed her temples. “I must be drunk. Did you say shape-shifters?”
“Morphs. They shift into different animal shapes.”
She laughed. “Shape-shifters who change into animals. Right. And they want me for, what? Free medical care since I’m a vet?”
“They want you because you’re the only one who can defeat and destroy them, Maggie. You’re extraordinary.”
“That’s me. Maggie the Super Destroyer of Shape-shifters!” Her blouse gaped open again, showing a delicious cleft of creamy skin. Nicolas felt his groin grow even heavier. He steeled against it. Control, control. Now was not the time.
“You don’t believe me. But you will, soon enough. Just as you sense we have something between us.” He took her hand, running his thumb lightly over her knuckles. She shivered at his touch. A pulse throbbed in her neck.
“I don’t believe in shape-shifters. Or magic. The sexual chemistry between us? Basic human biology.” Her mouth thinned as she yanked her hand away. “I’m a researcher, a doctor of veterinary medicine. So if you’re trying to convince me of anything as nonsensical as this Morph creature, it defies human logic. I need evidence.”
Nicolas remembered how the Morphs had torn the hunters to pieces. “Don’t underestimate them, Maggie. Morphs are far from nonsensical.”
Maggie, the scientist, the unbeliever. If he revealed more, she’d grow even more wary. She wanted empirical evidence.
He wanted to pick her up, and run off with her. Get her out of danger before the Morphs attacked. Not yet. She was still safe. Since she hadn’t displayed any empath powers, the Morphs lacked proof she was the Draicon destined to destroy them.
He gauged his plan. Tell her to pack now, get the dog in the car and run, and she’d not only balk, but put up such a fuss she’d attract unwanted attention.
She needed to see to believe.
He’d dispatched the Morph scout easily, killing him before he cloned. Scouts worked in pairs. In the morning, when it was supposed to check in, another would appear. After intense study of their patterns, he knew what to expect.
Chances were a Morph wouldn’t appear before morning. But he wouldn’t leave her alone.
He could mate with her now. But their first time together, he wanted all night. Take it long and slow, not fast and hurried, with the threat of a Morph appearing at her door.
Besides, Maggie needed evidence that the Morphs existed. Nicolas smiled grimly.
She’d see plenty tomorrow morning. He felt certain of it.
Maggie’s swimming head couldn’t process everything. First, the raging desire stripped away all coherent thought, leaving nothing but the urgent need to rub her naked body against this man. Then there was the odd feeling of danger and Nicolas’s mysterious vanishing act.
Now his assertion that a creature stalked her?
It was too fantastic. Yet a tiny part of her warned he told the truth. She ignored that voice. If he were truthful, everything she’d built for herself would collapse into rubble. Her life was ordinary, organized and carefully planned. It allowed no room for the whimsical and mysterious.
No room for childish beliefs such as magic. Magic with a C, not a K, she thought.
Maggie clenched her fists. No, she said silently. It’s not possible. I only believe in what I can control, or accept that which is beyond my control.
Some diseases were beyond her control. Death. Misha, dying.
A small whimpering drew her attention. Maggie jumped from the couch, and staggered into the kitchen. Nicolas followed as she bent down, stroked the newly awakened Misha with a trembling hand. The dog raised her head, regarded Nicolas. Her tail beat the air like a metronome as she licked his hand.
“She doesn’t take well to strangers lately,” Maggie said, her heart leaping for joy. This was the most life Misha had shown in days.
“I’m a dog person,” Nicolas murmured, rubbing behind Misha’s ears.
Maybe now she could finally coax Misha into eating. From the refrigerator, she fished out a plastic tub and tore off the lid. She squatted before the dog, holding out a small piece of cooked chicken. “Look, Misha, your favorite. Please, eat for me. Please, baby. You can do it.”
The dog reached for the chicken. Wild hope arose. Then a strong male hand seized Maggie’s wrist, pulling the food away. Anger flooded her. “What are you doing?”
Nicolas was studying Misha with an intent look.
“Don’t.”
Maggie’s mouth flattened. “She’s very ill. This is the first food she’s shown interest in.”
He stroked Misha’s head. “What are you feeding her?”
What business was it of his? Yet Misha acted animated, continuing to wag her tail as he rubbed behind her ears. Certainly he had a way with animals.
“Protein. The … mass acts like a cancer. Cancer doesn’t
