He rubbed his chin with what looked like thick glove insoles. Witches probably didn’t need full gloves. “Well, I have to admit, I caught some of your earlier fight. You can hit, darlin’.”

She breathed out evenly. That didn’t sound like a compliment, but even more, it didn’t feel like one. She was damaged and had needed to learn to fight physically, but she didn’t need to share that fact with him. “I took karate.”

“Nice try, but you’re not human. It took me a while, and I don’t really understand what’s going on, but now at least I know what you are.” He took two steps toward her, casting an intimidating shadow across the icy beach. “Take off the sunglasses, Cee Cee.”

She swallowed. There was no reason to keep them on—one hit from him and they’d fly off. She slid them up her forehead to hold back her hair. “Why?”

He glanced down, no expression providing insight to his thoughts. “And the contacts.”

She blinked. The thought occurred to her to deny she was wearing contacts, but instead, she lifted her chin. “No.”

“Take them out, or I will.”

She glanced down at his huge hands. No, she didn’t want one of those fingers in her eyes. Apparently the gig was up, anyway. “Fine.” Yanking off her glove, she reached up and removed the colored contacts to fling them onto the snow. The cold instantly enfolded her hand and dug into her eyes. Then she faced him squarely, her eyes no longer blue. “Happy now?”

He slowly, very slowly, shook his head. Anger vibrated on the arctic breeze. “Fuck no, I’m not happy. Demon.”

Chapter 4

Daire stared at the stunning woman facing him so bravely. White-blond hair, sparkling black eyes, tiny stature, and hoarse voice. A purebred female demon. They were so rare as to be almost extinct, and not for a second had he considered she was part of the demon species. She looked much more angel than anything else. Of course, angels didn’t exist, and demons were just another race with no ties to heaven or hell. Just earth.

Most demons gave off intrusive vibrations of energy, and it usually took years, centuries really, for one to be able to temper the waves. But this one? This one didn’t give off any hint of demonness. “Why couldn’t I tell what you are?” he asked, ignoring the freezing wind cutting into his eyes.

Her gaze faltered and then strengthened. “Maybe you’re not all that talented.”

At the moment, he didn’t appreciate flippancy. Standing this close to her, even knowing what she was, his body rioted. Not even the sub-zero temperature could cool his raging cock. “How old are you?”

She huffed. “What a rude question.”

“Answer it, or I’ll show you rude.”

She rolled those stunning eyes. “Fine. I’m a hundred and twenty-five.” Then she frowned, looking no more than twenty-five years old. For her species, she was young. “How old are you?”

“Over three centuries.” He narrowed his gaze, fighting every animalistic urge he owned not to tackle her to the ground and take what she’d offered the other night. “You’re not old enough to be able to mask your energy. Not nearly old enough to do it so well.” He’d met demons over a thousand years old who couldn’t mask to that degree. “Explain.”

She lifted one small shoulder, and the wind kicked in, lifting her light hair. “We all have unique gifts, Enforcer. That’s mine.”

He frowned as the cold slapped his bare face. Nothing about the woman was adding up, and even so, his fingers itched to run through her hair.

She shivered.

He swore. “Put your glove back on.”

She slowly slipped her delicate hand back into the glove. The wind stirred up snow, and it swirled around, turning her into a magical princess. “I’m going to ask you again, how did you know to follow me to Norway and not Russia?” The woman spoke with intelligence and a hint of demand.

The combination only turned him on, which made absolutely no sense. He liked quiet, sweet, structured women. “The mines in Russia are public knowledge; the mines here are not.” He’d figured she’d check out the secret mines first, and the bet had paid off. “What do you want with the Fryser Island mines, Cee Cee? If that’s your real name.”

“It is.” She slid the glasses down her forehead to protect her eyes. The wind rolled dark clouds in from the sea, and the temperature instantly dropped further. “At least, that’s what my mother called me.”

“The mines?”

She shrugged, the movement oddly sensual. “I’m hunting a demon with strong connections to your people and your mines. You own two of the four here, and he owns the other two. Apparently this mine of yours is truly not producing.”

“I don’t deal with demons,” he said, trying to keep derision from his tone. Truth be told, until he’d gotten to know Logan recently, he’d never liked a demon. “Who are you, ah, hunting?” It was hard to imagine the petite blonde hunting anybody, but looks were obviously misleading.

She just stared at him, no expression on her smooth face.

“Who are you?” he asked softly.

She blinked, as if not expecting the question. “Nobody you need to worry about, Enforcer.” She slid one very small boot toward the sprawling snowmobile.

“You became my business the moment you drugged me and stole my files as well as the private files of a member of the Coven Nine.” The second she’d smiled at him, he’d been in a constant state of arousal. “What did you drug me with?”

She craned her neck toward the empty ignition slot and then sighed. “It was a horse sedative with a few tweaks. Quantum physics at its finest.”

He widened his stance and fought a shiver as the blackened clouds started to cover the meager sun. “You hired a witch to alter the sedative and take me down.”

“Not all witches belong to the Coven Nine,” she murmured.

No shit. One of them was sprawled, unconscious, on the ice in front of him. “I’m well aware.”

She smiled. “You’re fine, with no permanent damage, so how about we call it even?”

Even? His chin lowered as his temper tried to spike. “You’re joking.”

“No.” She mirrored his stance and planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t want to fight you.” Turning slightly, she glanced toward the empty orange building, revealing a wicked bruise along her jawline.

“Holy fuck.” He moved before thinking, prowling toward her through the swirling snow, cupping her jaw. The bruise was too fresh for him to have done it the other night, thank God.

She tried to step back, and the snowmobile stopped her. “I’m fine.”

Rage, the real kind, roared through him. He released her and took a quick step away before fire flared through his right glove, burning it away. Taking several deep breaths, he quelled his temper and the flame.

Her mouth formed a perfect O.

Keeping her gaze, he drew a knife from his boot.

She paled. “Wh—”

“He dies,” Daire said, turning toward the prone witch.

“No.” Cee Cee rushed toward him, grabbing his arm. “It was a fair fight, and then you knocked him out. Why would you kill him?”

Daire stilled. The entire world halted, and he touched her with his now bare hand, running a finger along the darkening bruise. “For this.” Gladly. Her skin was softer than silk and twice as fragile. Snow licked against her surprisingly dark eyelashes and melted on her nose.

Her finely arched eyebrows drew down, and she leaned back against the snowmobile, breaking his hold. “Um, we’re enemies. You get that, right?”

“Aye.” It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered at the moment but avenging that purple mark on her face. “But I wouldn’t do that to you. Ever.”

She tilted her head to the side, confusion all but rolling from her. “So you’re basically harmless to me.”

He chuckled, even pissed off. “Oh, I didn’t say that.” She’d tell him everything he wanted to know, but he’d never punch a woman. He turned back toward the immediate problem.