He inhaled deeply, drinking in her magic. It burned against his. Unlike so many other members of the old, powerful magic dynasties, he didn’t dabble in drugs. Drugs and his magic were a recipe for disaster. But Sera Dering was more potent than any drug—and he didn’t want to resist her.

If only she’d felt the same way. When she looked at him, though, only anger and defiance shone in her eyes. Her fists were clenched by her sides.

“What are you?” he asked.

Her hand twitched, moving toward her sword, but she quickly dropped it to her side.

“Your magic is strong,” he told her.

She moved back as he stepped forward. “What magic? I have no magic.”

He kept moving, high on the hum of her magic. His gaze dipped to her lips, wondering what it would be like to taste her. No, not without an invitation. He looked away from those soft lips, but his eyes found his desk. He fantasized about throwing her down on it and making love to her. He stomped down on that thought. What was wrong with him? Her magic—it had rattled his brain, drawing on that dark part of him, the part he always kept in check. He took a deep breath to calm himself, but that only drew more of her magic into him. Sera’s eyes shook. Her hand slid down to the knife strapped at her hip.

“Planning on skewering me like you did those vampires?”

Truth be told, a duel with her was an intriguing thought. He wanted to see what she could do against him, not just against those pitiful vampires. How hard could he push her? Would he be able to unwrap more of her magic?

“No, I don’t skewer mages,” she said.

“Glad to hear it.” He kept his hands and his magic to himself, not trusting either right now. Both were screaming to be let loose, to touch her. “Tell me about your magic, Sera.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” she said, her voice cracking.

“I can feel it.” His control was unraveling, her magic pushing him toward the edge. “You’re delusional if you think you can hide that much power.”

His stubbornness had served him well before, but not now. He tugged at every shred of willpower he had to hold himself back. Sera was scared of him. If he propositioned her now, he’d ruin this.

Ruin what? a part of him asked. She already thinks you’re a psychopath.

Kai focused on the work, on the mission.

“Look, whatever you think you’re feeling, you’re wrong. Just think of me like a magic mushroom,” she said.

“A magic…mushroom?” The amusing statement set his head back on straight.

“Right. Magic mushrooms have magic in them, but they don’t use magic,” she said.

Her grasping for straws was adorable. And obvious. She had to know that.

“You don’t feel like a mushroom,” he told her.

She pressed her lips together and glared at him.

“Fine, keep your secrets. I’ll find out eventually.”

* * *

After working together with Sera for a day, Kai decided that she was just as competent as he’d thought. And at least twice as honest. She couldn’t lie. She tried to lie about her magic, but they both knew that was futile. Every time she lied, he could read it on her face. He could feel the hiccup in her magic. Good. He didn’t trust people who knew how to lie.

After they’d been through a fantastically invigorating day of hell, he’d brought her to Illusion for dinner. Kai had been flustering the restaurant’s well-bred clientele for years. They were a diamonds-and-silk crowd, and he wore denim and leather. He took great pleasure in meeting their disapproving stares every time he stepped into the restaurant.

This time took the cake though. He and Sera walked in wearing torn and bloody clothes. He was laughing inside at their outraged glares, but Sera was actually self-conscious. As though she should worry about such people. They were nothing compared to her. She was pure of heart, hardworking, strong. Not that all of the magical elite were bad, but the system did breed its fair share of spoiled brats.

Dinner hadn’t gone as he’d hoped. He’d thought that a nice meal with him might encourage her to open up to him. It worked with most people. But she was holding back harder than ever. Well, he’d never been one to give up easily.

He drove her home, walking her to her door as any gentleman would. Sure, she had a sword and killed monsters for a living, but manners were just manners. It’s what separated people from beasts.

“I don’t need an escort,” she grumbled, rushing down the path, obviously hoping to lose him.

But he matched her hurried steps. “Last time I was here, vampires attacked. I feel obliged to at least check under your bed for monsters this time around.”

Her pace slowed as she turned her head to glare at him. “You are not going anywhere near my bed.”

“Fine. You can check for monsters under my bed.”

Truth be told, he wished they were there now, back at his apartment. He would offer her wine and chocolate. They would talk late into the night. He would pretend to be witty, and she’d pretend to laugh at his jokes. Or they’d just laugh at the silly game they were playing.

Then as the sun began to rise, he’d kiss her. Not too fast, slowly at first to test the waters, to see how responsive she was to him. She’d lean into him, her back arching, pressing her chest against his. He’d carry her to his room, spreading her out across his bed, peeling the clothes off of her piece by piece.

“Are you propositioning me?” she demanded.