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“Of course. All witches are welcome in the coven house.”

Sometimes I forget I’m a witch.

I watch as she leaves the room and then turn my attention to Khaosti. He’s sprawled on the chair opposite, long legs stretched out in front of him. His eyes are gleaming behind half-closed lids and he’s watching me. His tongue flicks out against the silver ring in his lip.

I swallow and clear my throat. “What do you think?”

“About what?”

Grr. Why is he so difficult. “About Winter’s story.”

He sighs, sits up straighter and runs a hand through his overlong glossy black hair. “I think she believes what she’s saying, but that this is ancient history and who knows how much of it is based in fact and how much has been distorted. And really, does any of what she said make any difference?”

Good point. “I just want to understand. I think it must be related to my father. The timing is right—they fled Astrali over five thousand years ago, which is about the same time bad Lucifer turned up. But how is it related?” I scowl. “My head hurts.”

“Then stop thinking for a while.”

Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m thinking too much. I close my eyes and clear my brain—Hecate’s been teaching me how to do that. I breathe slowly and open my eyes to find him still watching me. I think about getting up and going to look at the books, but I don’t move.

It occurs to me that we’re alone at last, with a near-zero chance that we’ll be disturbed or interrupted. I allow my gaze to wander over the long length of him. He’s putting on weight, thank god. He’s still too thin but he looks healthy and vital. The black pantsmold to his powerful thighs. My gaze skitters over the bulge at his groin—I don’t want to seem too obvious. Okay, maybe I do. The black shirt clings to his broad chest, the sleeves rolled up to show muscular forearms, pale skin sprinkled with dark hair. The open neck reveals the edge of black tattoos and my fingers itch with the need to stroke the swirling lines.

Finally, my gaze reaches his face. His full lips are slightly parted and there’s a dull flush across his high cheekbones. His nostrils flare as though he’s scenting me. My body gets hot, and my insides melt. When I press my thighs together, everything tingles.

“I once warned you about looking at me like that,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

He did indeed. I raise an eyebrow. “Remind me again—looking at you like what?”

“Like you think I’m the answer to every one of your romantic dreams.” I remember the words from last time, but I knew even then that he was—to use his own words—nobody’s fucking dream.

I sniff. “I’m not interested in romance—” truth or lie? I’m not even sure myself “—I’m just thinking about using you for sex.” That last bit’s true anyway. I’ve had sex once in my life and it woke something in me. And I want it again. Desperately. But I don’t think I’ll let Khaos see just how desperate I am. He might run for the hills.

His eyes widen and he seems to freeze. He breathes in again and his tongue licks his lower lip, as though he’s trying to taste the air. His features harden and his expression turns predatory.

I try to think of something to say but my mind is blank. Instead, I slowly push myself up. I can feel his gaze running like fire over my body and my nipples tighten, my sex grows hot and heavy.

As he rises to his feet, a shudder runs through me, and I fight the urge to step back. Show no fear. But he’s so…big. My mouth goes dry and my breathing speeds up and my heart pounds. I’m scared to move in case I do the wrong thing and scare him off. I need to be cool. But I’m burning up.

He steps closer until my nostrils fill with the scent of him and I can feel the heat from his body. Slowly, he reaches out. At the first touch of his hand on the skin of my throat, a shudder runs through me. I lean into him, raising my head. His big body leans over mine and his other hand slides around my waist and pulls me against him. I can feel the long hard length of his erection pressing against my belly. And suddenly, I go wild. My hands rise, I grip his head in a vice and pull him down to me. I need his kisses. I will literally fucking self-combust if I do not get kissed. I’ll likely combust if I do. Right now, I don’t care.

There’s a tiny little resistance and then he gives in, and his mouth is on mine, hard and hot. I open beneath him, so his tongue pushes inside, and he tastes so good. My body floods with memories of that one night together. My sex clenches with need, and I forget everything as his hands slide down and his fingers dig into my ass, pulling me closer, grinding the hard length of him against me. Not nearly close enough. I need him deep inside me. And he’s still kissing me, until I’m lightheaded and gasping for air. Finally he raises his head and stares down at me.

Fuck.

His eyes flash crimson.

He must see something on my face because he goes instantly still. A low growl rumbles in his throat. And then he takes a step back.

Noooo!

“Khaos?” I whisper his name. But he just takes another step back, his gaze never leaving my face.

A shudder runs through him. “I can’t do this,” he says.

“Yes, you can. Really you can.”

“I will lose control.”

“I don’t fucking care.” I almost scream the words at him. So much for not showing just how desperate I am. But I’m way past that. My body is aching with need. I take a deep breath. “You won’t hurt me.”