Page 56 of Want Me, Take Me, Haunt Me, Make Me

“And afterward, you’ve gone back to your own home.”

She nodded, frowning at him. “How do you know all this?”

“I know mediums,” he said. At first Hazel thought that would be the end, and then Ligat looked away with a diffident expression she almost recognized from elsewhere. “And I know, somewhat, how it feels to see the bars of your cage shrinking. How strong the urge to talk back to your enemy can be when it’s the only power you’re sure of having.”

Hazel’s first instinct was denial—not because he was wrong or because she was ashamed to recognize the feeling he described, but because the moment of recognition was much more intimate than the moment when he’d pushed his cock inside her. The relief of knowing she wasn’t alone warred with the discomfort of feeling seen. Hazel decided to deflect the whole issue. “Could you just appear in my house like he did?”

“Not in the areas you warded,” said Ligat, catching up with the sudden turn in the conversation. “But yes.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I was trying not to let you see me.”

“And hiding in another room would be less obvious than lurking outside my window?”

Ligat spread his hands. “It seemed that way at the time.”

It probably had, Hazel thought, studying his face. And it might have been wishful thinking on her part to wonder if Ligat had, consciously or not, avoided noticing how easy it would have been toappear in the hallway and watch from the shadows as she went to bed or even to teleport in when she’d gone to the bathroom and then hide in her closet. Even if that had been the case, his motive might not have been ethical. He might just not have wanted to spend hours hiding.

As opposed to hours outside?

Suggestive, she thought, but inconclusive. “Why are you working for this demon, anyhow?”

He went impassive again—mostly. Hazel was getting to know his face alarmingly well. She could see the way his eyes flickered at the question and the way his hands, clasped between his knees, tightened on each other. “The story would take a while,” he said. “I made a bargain. It turned out to be unwise.”

“A bargain like Chapman’s?” Hazel braced herself, trying to be ready to spring up and run without making that obvious.

Ligat’s upper lip curled. “No.”

The sudden, fierce disgust reassured Hazel. Ligat could lie, true, but it’d be hard to fake that reaction.

“I was stupid,” said Ligat, and now the disgust was as much for himself as for Chapman. “I was inexcusably thoughtless, I was the definition of hubris—but I didn’t kill so much as a chicken until after I’d made my pact.”

“And then—” Hazel began slowly.

“Yes. Not so often—it has better-suited servants for most types of killing—but yes.” He held her gaze, and Hazel didn’t know whether he was daring her or himself to look away. “And ‘not often’ adds up over a century.”

He’d guessed the wrong question, but it seemed crass to correct him now.

They both sat still, eyes locked, and the air heated between them again. As Hazel watched, feeling halfway hypnotized, Ligat reached out and took her chin between his thumb and finger. “Does that upset you?” he asked, his grip tightening almost to the point of pain.

Hazel still could have pulled loose or batted his hand away. It wasLigat’s low voice that kept her where she was, and the need for an answer she saw in his eyes. “It doesn’tsurpriseme,” she said. “I’m not happy about it, but I also wasn’t born yesterday. You serve a demon. I didn’t think it had you typing and filing.”

She tried to sound matter-of-fact. She wished she could feel that way, especially since they’d been talking about murder, but the subject didn’t matter. Ligat’s hold on her face mattered. His intensity, the desire she knew went past just getting an answer,thatmattered. Hazel felt it surge into her from his gaze and his fingertips, a nearly electric current that ran down her face and over her body to pool between her legs.

“Those were never my talents,” said Ligat, voice low and rich. “But neither was violence.”

“No?” Hazel barely breathed the word. “You must have a bunch of others.”

He smiled very slowly. “I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I agreed. And I haven’t had a chance to practice many of them in a long time.”

A switch flipped. Maybe it had already done that when she’d learned Ligat hadn’t signed on to the demon’s service the way Chapman had, but either some part of their conversation had pulled a lever in Hazel’s brain or she was just too tired for good intentions. She stopped caring which. “Come inside,” she said.

Chapter 30

“Coping strategies after all?” asked Ligat, as if he’d just heard the words. He let go of her chin, dropped his hand back into his lap, and sat still.

He was waiting, Hazel thought, giving her time to answer honestly or judging how honest her answer was. It was admirable, and she cursed him for it. “I doubt it. No more than anything else I do.” She got to her feet, searching for an explanation that wasn’t quite an admission, that didn’t make her feel desperate in front of a man who’d been an enemy until very recently. “I’m not…trying to be distracted.”