Surely they wouldn't do anything to jeopardize what the sorcerer wanted so badly….
"And then at the Sandbar, we'll get directions to another checkpoint?" When he nodded, she said, "Any idea where Groot's could be?"
"Some say it's in the north."
"What is he like? I feel as though I'm off to see the wizard."
"He's a blacksmith as well as a sorcerer, supposed to be able to enchant metal."
"Why so much trouble to get to him?"
Stick to the truth. "My enemy Omort wants him dead. So Groot lives in constant hiding."
"Because Groot can forge a sword that can kill Omort."
"Precisely."
"So then, Groot must be one of the good guys if he and Omort are enemies."
Vague it up. "Good or bad, you need to remember that all sorcerers have to be dealt with cautiously."
"How will he reverse the transition? Will there be a spell?"
"I don't know. I suppose."
"But only if we get there in time. Why didn't we just fly to Memphis?"
"Nïx made me vow not to fly any leg of this trip. She must have foreseen something bad."
"Do you always believe her predictions?"
"She doesn't get foretellings wrong—ever," he said. "But whether she tells you the truth about them is another matter."
"You seem to know her fairly well. Were you two ever…involved?"
"Involved with Nucking Futs Nïx? Not likely. In case you didn't gather Nïx is"—he twirled his forefinger at his temple—"addled."
"She's also beautiful."
"Never seen a Valkyrie who wasn't." He peered hard at her, making her flush and look away. "Speaking of Nïx—what'd you do with her letter?"
"I memorized and destroyed it while you were out for food."
"Then you knew I'd snoop through your things?"
"From what I know about you so far, it was a statistical probability."
Over the last three hours, they'd ridden in silence, with Holly working on her laptop, lost in thought—and him trying not to glance over at her more than twice a minute.
She had her computer stylus behind her ear, her glasses on, and she was now lazily fingering those pearls.
Don't do it…don't do—
And there she went, running them against her lips.
Maddening woman, with even more maddening ways about her! And she had no clue of the men she left hard in her wake.
Here he was, locked in a car all night with his female, knowing she needed to be pleasured. He had a driving demon instinct to please his female—and couldn't.
Cade was about to explode.
Just then her brows drew together, and she typed in rapid-fire taps. She paused, biting her bottom lip. When she hit enter, she glowered at the answer.
He wondered what proofs, theorems, or functions she was considering and then rejecting. What was going on in that incredible brain of hers?
But she hadn't only been concentrating on math over the last few hours. He knew she'd occasionally been thinking about earlier. Her face would flush, and she'd run her pearls against her lips, but faster.
Had she liked what he'd shown her? He'd been proud for her to see him hard, loving the feel of her gaze on his shaft, hoping to tempt her hands to it. And she'd been so close to touching him.
He knew he hadn't been on his best behavior at the hotel. But when she'd been talking to that tosser, Cade had been overcome with jealousy.
He tried to remember the last time he'd been so envious. Probably when the Lykae Bowen MacRieve had found his mate. Intense rivals, both Bowen and Cade had gone centuries without finding their females. Then the Lykae had gotten his in a pretty, funny witch—the one Cade had made a lackluster run at.
Now Cade had found his own female in a brilliant, stunning Valkyrie, who was so confident she made him speechless at times.
But she was one he couldn't keep.
Another rapid bout of typing came, with another glare at her computer screen.
"Has anyone ever told you you're sexy as hell when you're mathematizing?"
She sighed, closing her laptop and removing her glasses. "Is sex all you think about?"
"It is when I'm in sore need of it. My kind need it three or four times on a regular day. And then after what happened between us earlier…? You've got to be feeling the aftereffects, too."
"Hardly."
"Admit it. We had a moment." Though they hadn't even touched, he couldn't remember the last time he'd experienced anything so heated.
"It wouldn't matter if we did. I can control my baser urges."
"You said you didn't work things out for yourself. Which I know is a lie—"
"It is not!"
"It has to be," he said. "Otherwise the lust would just build and build."
"You're going to keep at this until I answer."
"You're beginning to understand me."
"No, I refuse this," she said, shaking her head. "We're simply not talking about this."
"Then talk about something else. You're due for a break from your work, and I need a distraction to take my mind from my aching thigh. Some Valkyrie refused to aid me in my distress."
"You deserved that."
"Probably," he allowed.
"Very well. What do you do as a mercenary?"
"I specialize in usurping thrones. They call me the kingmaker." Bragging now?
"Then you're an insurrectionist."
"You're assuming that I'm taking thrones from their rightful owners."
She gave a nod in his direction, as if conceding his point.
"But mainly, I fight wars. The Lore is a violent place, good for business," he said, then snapped his fingers. "Oh, wait, I almost forgot…you're a pacifist."
"That's not a bad word."
"It is when you're in the war industry."
She quirked a brow. Then seeming begrudgingly curious about his job, she asked, "How did you become a mercenary?
"I'd trained as a soldier to fight Omort." At nineteen, Cade had been thrown into a brutal training regime among Rydstrom's soldiers—who all despised him. For months, Cade had gotten his ass handed to him. Finally he'd learned he had to become faster, stronger, better than any demon in the army.
Ultimately, he had been, and people had taken notice. "In idle times between campaigns, I got offered some jobs." As Omort grew more powerful, crushing revolt after revolt, there'd been more idle times than not. "I had some success, and it snowballed. I've got a crew of forty-five under my command."
"All demons?"
"Mostly," he said.
"Do you discriminate against non-demons?" she asked.
"We don't discriminate. As long as the applicant is vicious, has killed before, and is willing to do so again, he's hirable."
"And how many women are currently in your crew?" she asked pleasantly.
"I walked right into that one, didn't I?" he said, but she merely raised her eyebrows, awaiting his answer. "No females have applied. Much. Hardly any at all. Hey, if you stay Valkyrie, I'll hire you. The PhD mercenary."
"That'd be a waste of study."
He grew still. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It just seems like your occupation would utilize more brawn than brain."
"So the bigger your biceps, the better your military strategy and battle tactics? Is that what you think?"
She studied his face. "You're sensitive about this."
"What? I'm not bloody sensitive," he said, but his tone was gruff. "Back to you. You told Nïx that you were one code away from getting your PhD. What kind of code?"
"It's complicated."
Did she think he couldn't even follow along? That made his hackles rise. "The big, dumb demon has been known to understand a few things over his thousand years of life."