Free Demon's Hunger by Eve Silver Page A

needed to figure out. How could she believe this? Any of it?
    As though he had read her mind, Dain's lips quirked in a scant smile. "Watch."
    In an instant, he began to glow with bright light, a supernova. He was haloed in it. Then a thick fog swirled up from his feet, twining and winding around his body and hers until it joined them, bound them, blocked out everything else.
    "Believe me, Vivien. Trust what you see." His voice was a low rasp, and she was lured, tantalized, wanting to believe. "You are a scientist. Wouldn't you like to know what this is? How it works? Wouldn't you like to catalogue my secrets?"
    "This isn't science," she whispered, lured nonetheless by his words.
    What was truth and what was trickery?
    She took a step, froze, then spun to face him.
    "Everything will be fine, Vivien," he said, his voice low, a little rough. "Trust me, and we'll do just fine."
    He wanted her to trust him. Problem was, she didn't know if she could trust herself.
    Her gaze collided with Dain's, liquid silver, scorching heat. Her skin felt sensitive, like she'd sat in the blistering sun for hours. She could barely stand the feel of her T-shirt and jeans. Her heart slammed against her ribs.
    OhGodOhGod . What was happening to her?
    She was so hot, so edgy, her nerve endings on fire.
    But if she could just have Dain Hawkins, have him naked and pounding hard, then the fever would ease. It would ease.
    On a sharp exhalation, she stumbled back, wrapping her arms tightly about herself to still her shaking.
    She needed to think of something other than the craving to touch him, kiss him, feel him deep inside her.
    She needed to get a grip.
    Falling back on decades-old habits, she began to mentally catalogue evidence and information, focusing on what she knew. In information was strength, safety, reassurance.
    Problem was, she didn't have a whole heck of a lot of facts to categorize.
    She rolled her lips inward until her teeth cut against the soft tissue with a distracting pain. Dain stood in front of a very cool-looking gilt-edged mirror, watching her. The mirror reflected a great view of his denim-clad ass.
    He was one of those guys who just looked amazing in a pair of faded, worn jeans.
    Wrenching her gaze away, she walked to the bank of windows that faced south, stared out at the CN Tower in the distance and the white curve of the Skydome. Oh, yeah, reality check… the powers that be had renamed it the Rogers Centre how many years ago? Two? Three?
    Reality check ? What the hell was reality? Nothing that she was overly familiar with right now.
    She was actually believing him about the sorcerers and the demons. Her gut was telling her it was true, and despite her years of scientific study, she still put faith in instinct, because her instincts were usually right.
    Leaning forward, she let her forehead rest against the cool glass.
    After a moment, she looked around the penthouse. Dain's personality was evinced in the clean lines and artful surprises. As uniquely as he chose to dress, his decorating style followed suit and spoke of his taste. Unexpected splashes of color added a certain flamboyance to the vast and open space, a spark of life. She thought there must be at least five thousand square feet here, divided into rooms not by walls but by furniture placement and style. What appeared to be priceless antiques mixed with modern pieces in a way that shouldn't have worked together but did.
    In the northwest corner was a staircase that led to a second floor and what she assumed must be a bedroom.
    She turned away. Dain Hawkins's bedroom was the last place her mind, or any other part of her, ought to linger.
    Squinting at the painting on the opposite wall, she thought it might be a Picasso. Wow. She wandered closer, studied the amazing placement of shape, the unique use of color.
    Dain closed the door—it was only in that instant that she realized he had left it open this whole time—and shot her a glance.
    "Would you like tea?" he