Rune did not appreciate this. Deshazior had to assume she was with Rune. At best, the demon’s open interest was disrespectful. At worst, it could be taken as a sign of hostility against Rune.

“Yes, we are,” she said.

The demon stood, far too close to her, then held out a paw. “I’m Deshazior. You can call me Desh.”

She shook his hand, his swallowing hers. “Josephine,” she said, craning her head up, seeming enthralled by the male. “You can call me Jo.”

Jo?

“Ah, me lovely Jo, let’s mosey outside and talk.” He finally released her hand. “I need to know where and when I can take ye.”

Really, demon, double entendre? As if this pirate had game!

Neither paid attention to Rune as they turned toward the exit. Nearing the doorway, Josephine said, “Oh, duck! You don’t want to hit your horns.”

Deshazior slanted her a heated look. “And she’s considerate to boot?”

Sheltered or not, she must know a mere reference to a demon’s horns could be construed as an invitation!

On the street, Deshazior gestured toward Rune. “I figure him for a fey. But what might ye be?”

“I’m a vampire.” She would tell the demon that, yet she refused to reveal basic information to Rune.

“Never had much use for vampires,” Deshazior said, “till I met a l’il bit named Jo, me first female one.” He waved from her toes to her head, asking, “Are ye all this eye-catchin’?”

She beamed, her smile dazzling. “Are demons all so charming?”

Deshazior leaned in even closer. “I’ve been hard on yer species in the past; teach me the error of me ways.”

She leaned in as well, eyeing him. “Do it again, bilge rat, and I’ll bite you smartly, then keelhaul your hide.”

Deshazior put his paw over his heart and breathed, “Blow. Me. Down.”

She chuckled. Chuckled! “I speak Pirates of the Caribbean.”

Rune was all but forgotten.

“Where would such a winsome vampire need to be goin’? ’Cause I’ll trace ye across the worlds.”

Rune interjected: “We need to go to China. To Mount Hua.”

Deshazior told Josephine, “Ye’re in luck. Been all over that country. I can put ye straight at the base.”

“All over?” she asked. “No one ever asks you about your horns?” Mentioning them again!

“See me T-shirt?” It was emblazoned with the words Big Easy Casting.

She tilted her head. “I see it.”

“Folks think I’m wearin’ prosthetics for a movie.”

“Oh, cool. They’re really big,” she said, which turned the demon on, those horns growing. Her eyes went wide. “That’s wild! Can I touch them?”

Rune’s jaw slackened.

Deshazior couldn’t dip his head fast enough. “Woman, make me dreams come true!”

“That’s enough,” Rune cut in. “We’re running out of time.” They were in no way running out of time.

“Rain check?” Josephine asked.

Voice gone low, Deshazior said, “Oh, decidedly, luv.”

Jo was digging Desh!

Not like she did Rune, but she felt a curiously strong pull toward the affable demon.

Desh was handsome in a supernatural linebacker-y way, and his accent was kind of sexy. His horns were even more badass up close.

When he grinned down at her, she gazed up at him with a puzzled smile. For someone who pretty much hated everybody, she had a good feeling about this guy. She could almost imagine she was making a friend.

Her first!

So many things were beginning to change in her life. The future spread out so brightly. . . .

Yet while she’d taken an instant liking to Desh, Rune and the demon seemed to hate each other on sight.

“Name your bloody price,” Rune demanded.

Was the dark fey jealous? Or was this another instance of Rune not playing well with anyone who had a dick? She suspected the latter.

“The lady’s ride is gratis.” Desh didn’t back down an inch. “Ye’ll be payin’ me a gold doubloon—or she goes alone.”

Jo muffled a laugh.

With narrowed eyes, Rune took a coin from his pocket, flipping it to the demon.

Desh caught the piece, seeming to weigh it. “It’s good gold.” He sank a fang into the edge. “It’s old gold. Where ye from, stranger?”

Rune’s lips drew back. “A place where demons mind their own business.”

Jo glared at him.

“Ye look like a fey, but ye’re barin’ the fangs of a demon. Should’ve known by yer eyes.” Desh frowned at her. “Ye understand he’s a scurvy baneblood, luv? Walkin’ poison and poxy bad luck to boot. If ye’re thirsty, the blood of a storm demon”—he pounded his broad chest—“is stout and hearty. I’m a thousand years old, so I’d be aged like fine wine.”

Rune bit out, “What the fuck is this, demon? We’re here to transact.”

Desh turned to him. “I see no mark upon her neck.” Mark? “If ye reckon she’s yer mate, I’ll respect that. Otherwise, she’s fair game. The fairest.”

Rune didn’t believe dark fey got mates, much less that Jo was his. So how would he answer that challenge?

“She’s not my mate.” Rune squared his shoulders. “But she’s in my bed.” Then he added, “Currently.”