stared out the kitchen window as he went upstairs. Her pulse raced. First time alone all night with the man she’d tortured, a man of honor and integrity and tremendous power. She didn’t underestimate his rough appearance. If he wanted, Dale Curtis could turn her to ashes with one flick of his hand.
A few minutes later, Dale returned to the kitchen, clad in khaki trousers and a navy blue polo shirt. Deck shoes covered his feet. He went into the dining room and returned with a sparkling crystal wineglass.
“What do you think?” he asked. He went for the built-in wine rack among the cabinets. “Red or white?”
She hadn’t drunk spirits in ages and placed the glasses on the table more as pretty decor. It was dangerous to imbibe around him, dangerous to lower her guard. But he was acting more animated and she didn’t want to spoil the mood. “Red, I think. You select it.”
Dale opened a bottle and poured a small amount. “I haven’t had wine since I got home from the hospital. Just beer, and I rarely finish the bottle.”
Her heart skipped a beat. She watched him sample the vintage and nod. “Excellent.”
“How long were you in the hospital?”
“Long enough.”
As he carried the bottle and glass into the dining room, she ladled the stew into two bowls. He turned on the crystal chandelier hanging over the table. A lump rose in Keira’s throat.
She had been forced to torture him in the dark. He never knew when she’d attack, never saw her coming, only felt the burning agony of her sharp claws.
Dale filled her glass with wine as they sat. Keira tried not to think of what she’d done to this man, but the stew tasted like cardboard as she ate.
He looked up, his brows arched. “It’s very good. I taste thyme. Did you season the stew with it?”
Keira flushed under the praise. “Thyme and other spices.”
Dale smiled, the sharp angles and plains of his face softening. “You’re a good cook. I thought New Agers ate only wheat sprouts and fruit.”
Keira thought quickly. “In all my travels, I had to adapt to various lifestyles, so I learned to enjoy their foods, as well.”
He toyed with the stem of his wineglass. “You’re a gypsy.”
“With a Harley instead of a caravan. I like to travel and see the country.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s so much to this life to see, and experience.” Keira spooned up more stew. “I want to relish every single moment I’ve been given and find the good in people, the good I know exists.”
“It doesn’t always exist. There is much evil.”
“And good.”
“That’s not my job. My job is to find the evil and eradicate it, to keep the American people safe.”
Keira’s heart pounded like an excited dog’s tail against the floor. She set down her spoon. “You’re too young to be so cynical.”
“Old enough. Seen enough.” Dale sipped his wine. “My family was insular. I chose against it.”
“Why?”
“Because they cared only about money and status. When I chose to join the navy and become a SEAL, they were not happy. But serving my country, and keeping civilians safe, meant more to me than making millions, like my father wanted me to do.”
“Who is your family?”
Dale raised a brow. “In all your travels, you’ve never heard of Curtis Mark Industries? The software empire, second only to Bill Gates and Steven Jobs? That’s my father’s company.”
“You wanted to rebel against your father so you didn’t work for him?”
“I wanted to do something with my life other than remain a part of a society that cared only for being seen and flaunting their power. There’s an evil I wanted to eliminate to keep others safe. I have much power and what good is power if you don’t use it to help others?”
Keira was touched at his dedication and selflessness. The Mage could have had a very comfortable, and very safe, lifestyle. She tilted her head, studying him. Why did she have the feeling she’d met him somewhere before, around the time the demons killed her pack?
But all those memories from Nicaragua were scrambled. The demons had seen to it by infusing her with four drops of their blood when they became temporarily corporeal.
“You sacrificed a lot to keep others safe. Your parents would be proud. I would be.”
“They didn’t understand. Neither did my wife. Ex-wife. Kathy was cut from the same bolt of social-excess cloth.” He seemed to catch himself and stared at his meal. “Damn. Sorry. Didn’t mean to go there.”
“Let me guess. She didn’t like being the wife of a military officer.”
He nodded. “We’ve been divorced a long time now. No children. Enough of me. What about you? Where’s your family?”
The familiar lump rose in her throat. Keira struggled to swallow a mouthful of stew. She set down her spoon. “They were killed in a demon invasion while we were living in another country. I was able to escape.”
His expression softened. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged to hide the tears welling in her throat. “It happened a long, long time ago. My pac—parents liked to rove around the globe, see the world and experience new cultures. Guess that’s one reason I’m a gypsy. I don’t have a real home.”
Goodness, she’d almost revealed she once had a pack.
Dale ate with zest. “This is terrific. I haven’t had a hot meal in weeks. Never bother cooking. No time, too much trouble.”
She studied his lean frame. He’d lost weight since she’d last seen him. If he kept this up, Dale Curtis would resemble a walking skeleton, his powers useless, his body prime for takeover by other demons.
“You need more protein, real meals, not grabbing sandwiches. Now that I’m here, I’ll cook dinner for you every night.” Keira smiled, trying to lighten her mood. “I promise if I find another imp, I won’t throw him in the stew pot. Besides, those little buggers can take the heat.”
“How do you normally kill them?”
“Not with guns, though yours did the trick.”
Dale smiled, looking less severe.
“Usually it’s best to blast them with white light. They’re so small, it’s easier than trying to kill a demon with white light. With demons, you need the big guns.”
Those startlingly gray eyes met hers. Beneath the mild look was an exacting scrutiny. Uncomfortable, she realized he was sizing her up, digging beneath the surface to find out what her deal was. Not a good idea.
“How do you know so much about imps and demons?” he asked.
“I studied them.”
“Most women wouldn’t want to get near a demon, even an imp, if they lost loved ones to dark forces. Yet you knew exactly what was in my office, and where it would be hiding.”
Guilt surged through her. “I studied demons and their minions. Wanted to know what my enemies were capable of doing.”
“I do the same, only I’m trained in combat and weaponry.”
“Did you know imps love to invade kitchens, food supplies, even liquor? Once I found a dozen of them in a liquor cabinet. They’d managed to break open a bottle of brandy. Have you ever seen a drunk imp? Not a pretty sight.”
She set down her spoon. “And I’m rambling. If you want, I can eat in the kitchen, leave you