Her mouth fell open. “When? When you’re threatening me? My God, Prometheus. Is that supposed to make me want to help you?”
“You don’t need to call me a god. That’s a different Prometheus.”
“You really don’t get it, do you? You can’t bully me into helping you. Especially not after you’ve spent the last year doing everything you can to piss me off.”
“It wasn’t the last year. I’ve really only been focused on aggravating you for the last six months. Everything before that was just a coincidence.”
“Ah!” She shouted in frustration, spinning toward the exit. Her heels slammed the hardwood in counterpoint to her anger. She jerked hard on the handle, but Prometheus easily held the door glued shut.
The more she struggled, the more his fascination grew. Along with his smile as he watched her.
Karma Cox was a titan among magic-users. She’d been born with the kind of natural power many would—and did—sell their souls for. If she’d tapped into it, she could have kicked his ass into next week and opened the door with one hand tied behind her back. But instead of embracing the chaotic rush of her power, she repressed it. Her rigid control and unrelenting restraint bottled up her gifts until she was all but powerless, trapped by a net of her own making, yanking futilely at a door that should have been no obstacle at all.
He had to give her credit for stubbornness though. She kept hauling on the door long after a less obstinate woman would have admitted defeat, until finally her hands stilled and her head dropped forward, just an inch—all the surrender she would allow.
“Ready to listen?”
Her head came back up sharply, recovering the inch of surrender. She spoke, still facing the door. “What are my odds of ever getting out of here if I say no?”
“Slim. I’m a gambling man, but even I wouldn’t take that bet.”
She turned slowly, the ice queen back in control. Her dark brown eyes were cool and her ruby lips pursed. She leaned back against the door she’d battled. Her bare back must have touched the cool glass, but she didn’t flinch, folding her arms and pinning him with her imperial gaze. “Well?” One sleek, carefully plucked eyebrow rose. “If I’m not getting out of here until you’ve given your little speech, start talking.”
Prometheus reminded himself to breathe. It came down to this. He wasn’t going to get another chance to enlist her help. Tread carefully.
“I’ve lost something,” he said, keeping his words intentionally vague. Best to ease her into it.
Somehow he didn’t think Karma would react well to the knowledge that he’d sold his heart to the devil twenty years ago and now he needed her help to steal it back.
Chapter Two
Letting a Feral Warlock Down Easy
Karma eyed the bane of her existence across the width of his shop. He’d barely moved a muscle since she stormed in on him—which was even more annoying than if he’d been ranting and waving his arms or even manhandling her. His presence was an active force in the room, slamming doors, prowling and looming over her, but his lean, long-limbed form could have been carved from stone.
She would have admired his control if not for the fact that even his stillness seemed born of an inherent wildness. He was composed of extremes—wholly black eyes and tan skin paired with prematurely white hair, extreme height, but without the slumped shoulders of a man in the habit of bending down to address the world around him. When he did deign to move, his movements were graceful, almost artistically choreographed, but there was an intense masculinity to his grace.
She’d left her brother’s wedding reception—which had, thank God, gone perfectly as soon as Rodriguez banished the damn mischief demon—determined to settle things with Prometheus once and for all.
Her heart had been throbbing with rage the entire drive here. It still throbbed, but her anger had been replaced by an edgy awareness—like her body instinctively knew she was in the room with something that could maul her if roused. A bear. Despite his lanky build, Prometheus reminded her distinctly of a bear.
Or perhaps a lion with a thorn in his paw. A thorn he clearly expected Karma to remove, even though he’d been one in her side for months.
He’d lost something, had he? “Did the rightful owners steal it back?”
“No.” His lips twitched. “It is neither an object I stole nor one stolen from me.”
“Before I even ask what you’ve lost, let’s be clear on the ethics—since I know that’s a sticky area for you—you are one hundred percent certain this object belongs to you, aren’t you? And don’t lie to me. I have a lie detector on my staff and she will out your ass in a heartbeat.”
“Oh, it’s mine all right.”
A flicker of hope lit in Karma’s chest. It went against the grain to help Prometheus in any way, but if a quick find could get him off her back forever, she was willing to make an exception to her don’t-trust-a-wily-warlock rule if only to end this. She nodded once, sharply, coming to a decision. “Okay. I want it in writing that you will stay the hell away from me and my people if we do this, but I have several finders on staff. One of them will locate your item and after we’ve confirmed that it does, in fact, belong to you, I’ll have someone return it to you.”
“I’m afraid it’s going to be a little more complicated than that.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning your staff isn’t the only reason I came to you. I need your assistance, Karma. Your abilities. Do you honestly think I wouldn’t have bribed one of your finders into working directly for me if it were that simple?”
Why would he need her? Her abilities were mostly useless—uncontrolled precognition, some channeling and the occasional snatch of telepathy. Nothing that would be any help in finding a lost item. Unless that wasn’t the real reason he wanted her.
At the reception, after the bouquet toss while the bride Lucy led the rest of Karma’s employees and a few wedding-crashing ghosts in the chicken dance, Rodriguez had pulled Karma aside to tell her the demon he’d banished had babbled something about Prometheus having a crush on her and harassing her in an attempt to get her attention. Could there actually be some truth in that ridiculousness? Was this whole thing about a crush?
A pack of wild butterflies invaded her abdomen—the sensation not nearly as unpleasant as she might have wished.
How exactly did a girl ask a sociopathic warlock if he harbored a secret passion for her? He was already a massive pain in the ass. She didn’t want to think about how much worse he would be if he added spurned suitor to his repertoire.
Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. Please let me be jumping to conclusions. “What exactly is it you think you need from me? What did you lose?”
He lifted one shoulder in a slow, deliberate shrug—the gesture failing to convey any sense of casualness. “It’s my heart actually. I need you to help me retrieve it.”
“You lost your heart.” Karma felt her face heating. Holy crap. He really was in love with her. An insanely powerful and completely immoral warlock was in love with her. Let him down easy. “Look, Prometheus. I’m sure there are lots of—” masochistic “—girls who would be flattered by your interest, but I really don’t have time for any sort of relationship-type thing right now.”
“What are you talking about?”
She flushed, inexplicably embarrassed by the conversation. Where was her legendary cool? Why did talking about this man’s feelings so rattle her? “Your demon. He told my exorcist about how you…feel. For me. This…crush, or whatever you want to call it.”