The alarm woke her, and she groaned as she reached out to turn it off. Raiden was warm against her, the slide of his skin against hers was divine. She wanted nothing more than to turn around and bury herself back into the man. She turned to face him, and found his eyes were open. His smiled, the slow sexy smile that made her heart race.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning,” she wrapped her arms around him. “Ugh I don’t want to get up.”
“Then don’t,” he suggested, burying his face into her hair and breathing in, scenting her, she thought, a werewolf trait. “We could spend the day in bed.”
“Don’t tempt me,” she sighed and made herself release him. “I had better shower,” she pushed herself out of bed and met his eyes. His smile was smug, enjoying watching her walk naked across the room to the walk-in-robe to collect her clothing. She flushed under his eyes. If she had been Paris, she thought, she would have flaunted and flirted sensually, but she had never possessed the same confidence in her sexuality that her friend possessed.
She slipped into the bathroom. “I won’t be long,” she told him.
“Brock and I might take our coffee out to the garage and have a look at that car,” he replied easily and sat up in the bed as she eased the door closed.
She showered and pulled on her dance wear, opening the bathroom door to a made bed. She smiled, her tidy werewolf, she thought, amused as she grabbed her dance back and stepped out into the hallway. She could hear Paris chattering in the kitchen as she reached for the door and walked in expecting to see Raiden.
Paris was pouring coffee, and Cael sat at the table, with a newspaper open before him, seemingly totally at home in the small kitchen, his long legs crossed at the ankles and the sun catching in his golden hair and overnight growth of stubble. He was, frankly, gorgeous, she thought. More than gorgeous. He was beautiful, as if every part of him had been carved to demonstrate and artist’s concept of masculine perfection.
He was drinking coffee, black, with an oddly puzzled expression, as if he had not had the beverage before. She wondered if Paris had made it – operating the coffee percolator was not one of Paris’ domestic skills and what she produced mystified Lia for its thick texture and nutty taste.
“Ah, here she is,” Paris said as Lia entered. “Cael was just telling me that he is on loan from The Light Company.”
“Oh?” Lia had never heard of them but thought it would be rude to say. “Where is Raiden and Brock?” She asked as she took down a cup and placed it beside Paris’. Paris added a spoonful of instant and added hot water, knowing better than to offer Lia the product of her percolator poison.
“I think they are looking at the old car in the garage,” Paris replied.
“Ah, okay then.” Lia took the cup to the table and pulled out a chair opposite to Cael. He sat up, pulling his legs back from under the table. “I have never heard of the Light Company,” she said to him.
His eyes meeting hers danced with mischief as he leaned his elbows on the table surface. “It is a very small company,” he said easily, taking a sip of his coffee, and holding her gaze over the rim. “We are trying to build our corps, so, in a way, I am here as a spy, to find new talent and convince them to join us.”
“Lucky us,” Paris leaned against the back of Lia’s chair. Lia could not see her, but she was sure that Paris’ eyes would be batting, and her cleavage would be advantageously displayed. When it came to men, Paris was an accomplished predator. “That you saw our advert for a roomie.”
“Lucky me,” Cael replied with a smile. “Or I would have been sleeping in the academy halls last night.”
“Could have found a hotel,” Lia pointed out.
He shrugged. “It also was an option, but I am not familiar with the area.”
“Found your way here, well enough.”
“Lia,” Paris nudged her. “Forgive Lia,” she said to Cael. “She gets testy when she doesn’t get a full twelve hours of sleep. She has had a few late nights recently between a new job and new boyfriend, or, at least, late in Lia’s world, which is primarily shared by crocheting grandmas and lap cats. She will cheer up once she has had a coffee or five. On that note, I had better have a shower,” she added, setting her empty cup onto the sink.
Cael’s eyes returned to his newspaper. The paper was three weeks out of date, Lia noticed, and wondered what he found so fascinating in old news.
Paris caught Lia’s eyes over his shoulder as she opened the door into the hallway. “Be nice,” she mouthed with a frown, before closing it behind her.
Lia rolled her eyes and drank her coffee.
“I feel that we got off to a bad start last night,” Cael said quietly.
Lia flushed. “Rather.”
“I am not normally so… predatory,” he set the newspaper to the side. “Perhaps because you were all… warmed up from your boyfriend, the heat struck me a bit stronger than normal. I do not make a habit of wrestling women onto the floor within minutes of meeting them, I promise you.”
“About that,” Lia said, setting her coffee cup down. “I don’t know what you mean by heat.”
He frowned. “You do not know?”
“No.”
“It is perfectly normal. Part of reaching adulthood,” he had a dimple when he smiled, she noted. “You just need to be a bit cautious as you will attract more male attention than normal. You smell,” he inhaled, and his eyes lit wickedly. “Like sin.”
“How long does it last?” She wondered embarrassed. “And is there any way I can… hide it?”
“From your werewolf boyfriend?” He raised his eyebrows. “He would already know, I imagine. It was sort of hard to miss last night.” He inhaled deeply. “Less noticeable this morning. You smell mostly like dog.”
“I like dogs,” Lia glared at him, knowing that he comparing her werewolf to a dog.
“You know they were a failed experiment, right?” Cael sat at the table. “Or a semi-successful one at the most. Something baked up in a petri dish of a cauldron and bred to be slaves. F-king one of them is barely a step above bestiality.”
She stared at him in astonishment. “How do you know that?”
“The question is how come you don’t know that?” Cael replied haughtily. “The Nephilim experimented on humans, using magic, and from their experiments came the Others. Some were useful, like vampires and werewolves, so they were bred in higher number, which is why there are more of them now.”
“Nephilim, like angels? They aren’t real,” she scoffed at him.
“The Nephilim absolutely are real. Only slaves call the Nephilim angels or devils depending on the different beliefs on slavery,” he watched her, his blue eyes intense. “Angel or devil, it is the same – Nephilim.”
“So, the Nephilim made the Others. Did they make us, too? Did they make witches and warlocks?”
“In a way,” his lip curled. “Witches and warlocks occur where Nephilim have f-ked humans.”
She was fascinated. “So, we have angel in us?” She asked.
“Nephilim. Essentially, yes, witches and warlocks have a Nephilim in their history, somewhere. Usually quite far back, as it is not exactly encouraged to fraternize with humans, being as humans are lesser beings,” he leaned forward towards her. “But, of course, in the past, it has happened. Humans are alike enough to the Nephilim to be appealing. There is always an appeal to slumming it, as humans would say, no matter the species.”
“You say human as if they are different to us.”
“Humans are different.” The roar of a motor choking into life interrupted – Raiden and Brock had succeeded in getting the old car started, Lia thought. Cael laughed superciliously. “Those infernal machines are eternally interrupting us, Cecilia.”
“Raiden and Brock are fixing a car.”
“Your friend is f-king another dog,” he observed coolly. “Is this something you do together? A bonding activity? Your version of slumming it?”
“That is… rude,” she stood, frowning. “Stop calling them dogs.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Walks like a dog, wags like a dog, barks like a…”
“I am regretting renting you the room right now, Cael,” she said tightly.
He grinned, with sudden and bewildering charm. “Ah, but you want to know what I know, don’t you, Cecilia?”
And they were back to her hormones, she thought ruefully. “How long does the heat last for?” She asked. “And how often?” She added with horror, realizing it might not be a once off.
He shrugged. “A week, and monthly.”
“Oh, great,” she rolled her eyes heavenward. As if being a woman did not suck already.
He chuckled. “There is a simple solution that most people take.” He raised his eyebrows. “I would be happy to help out, if your pet dog is not man enough to satisfy. Which,” he inhaled. “It smells like he is not.”
“Thanks, and no thanks. Strictly hands off, by the way,” she added. “If you are going to be living here, we can absolutely not have a repeat of last night.”
He stood and took his cup to the sink, collecting hers on the way through. “As you wish. You might regret that, however,” he said, smugly. “There was something between us last night. More than the heat. I know you felt it, too.”
“If there was anything, it was because you used a spell on me,” she retorted. “Which you will not be doing again, right? So, if you want to stay, hands off me and Paris, and one month’s rent, by the end of today.”
“Sure, and how would you like that?”
“Cash is fine.”
“Alright,” he paused by the door. “Let me know when you change your mind.”
She growled as she peeled an orange and ate all but one slice over the sink. The last slice she took to the solarium. The fairy hissed at her from behind a leaf, sharp pointed teeth bared in a fearsome grimace. “Oh, mind your manners, small one,” she reprimanded it dropping the slice of orange into the atrium.