himself.
Satisfied with his plan, Zoltan opened a tall wooden cabinet and inspected its contents. Wigs, beards, and mustaches were on display, as well as molds to slip over his teeth to change his smile. He chose his disguise wisely like he always did when he ventured into the human world, and while he didn’t always use all tools of disguise at his disposal, one was essential:
Colored contact lenses to hide his demon eyes. Demons had tried in the past to conceal their eyes with colored lenses, but they’d met with little success. The green in their irises emitted a chemical that burned through any lens within less than an hour, making a permanent disguise impossible.
However, recently Zoltan had come across a talented optometrist who’d been experimenting with different materials for patients who had allergic reactions to regular contact lenses. He’d watched him closely and tested out the various lenses the man was developing, until he found one that lasted several hours before it dissolved and revealed his demonic eyes.
He chuckled to himself. He hadn’t shared his discovery with his underlings yet. It was good to always stay one step ahead of everybody, even his own subjects.
12
Tessa opened the door to her outer office and entered, but if she’d hoped for a sanctuary after the events of the previous night, this wasn’t it. She’d already dodged several reporters when Hamish had dropped her off at a side entrance to City Hall, after she’d spotted a news van parked out front. But apparently a few journalists had made it past security.
Two reporters she recognized jumped up from the visitor chairs and practically pounced on her.
Collette, who’d risen from behind her desk, lifted her arms in defeat. “I’m sorry, Tessa, but…”
Tessa sighed. “Not your fault, Collette.”
And not the security people’s fault either. After all, as long as prospective visitors didn’t carry weapons and could state some legitimate reason—even if it was pretense—security had to admit them to City Hall. And once inside, they could pretty much access any floor and any office. So much for her sanctuary, of which she’d been in dire need. Not only because of the attempt on her life the previous night, but also because of what had happened later in her apartment.
She’d thrown herself at Hamish like a hormonal teenage groupie! Even now, embarrassment ran through her veins and colored her cheeks. How had it even happened? One minute she’d been crying, fear and horror occupying her every thought, the next she’d been in his arms and had let herself sink into the comforting warmth they had provided. Everything had melted into the background and suddenly she’d felt only him: his masculine scent, his strong hands, his gentle words. And when she’d met his gaze, she’d been hypnotized by his eyes, and without thinking she’d moved her head closer and had kissed him.
Of course, he’d responded to her kiss. After all, he was a man, and she didn’t know many men who’d turn down a reasonably attractive woman who was coming onto them. But he’d come to his senses quickly. Who knew what else would have happened if he hadn’t stopped.
Having to see him this morning had been awkward. And the silence between them when he’d driven her to work had been so thick, she could have cut it with a knife. Was it therefore surprising that all she wanted was to hide in her office and bury herself in her work?
Clearly, it wasn’t meant to be. The two reporters bombarding her with questions were making sure of that.
“Miss Wallace, how are you feeling this morning?” Meredith from the Daily Republic asked.
“Are you planning to sue the Center for Drug Rehabilitation for reckless endangerment?” Thom, the journalist working for Online News Blast, interrupted.
“I’m feeling fine.” She smiled at Meredith, then looked at Thom. “And no, I’m not planning on suing anybody.” She took a few steps toward her