jolted instantly. “Did you say something?”
Nikos leaned in a little closer, still squatting but working to meet Mason’s eyes. “Talk to me,” he urged softly. “You and I . . . we’re always good that way, right?
Mason’s green eyes were no longer distant, but alert and locked with Nik’s. “You don’t have to treat me like a pussy,” Mason said, playing it tough. But his eyes. His eyes begged Nikos to fix whatever had come unhinged inside his mind, his soul. “I don’t need a psych evaluation.”
“No Dr. Freud here.”
“Yeah, you’ve probably done time on the guy’s couch, long as you’ve been alive,” Mason muttered, a hollow attempt at humor that Nik wasn’t about to let distract him from the real issue.
Nikos nodded, saying nothing at first, then, “You have that look. The one you had when I first met you . . . the one I’ve observed in a lot of men over the years. Men who’ve seen too much, fought too long.”
Mason’s eyes drifted shut. “Nik, tell me I’m okay. Tell me I’m still here,” he murmured. “Tell me I’m still tight.”
“You’re right here with me. Totally lucid.”
Those green eyes opened again, filled with a kind of terror that Nik had never seen in the man before. “Because that . . . thing? It spooked the hell out of me, dude. It was . . . Oh, shit, I’m losing it. Losing my fucking mind! Just when I think I’m all glued back right—when I think you’ve helped me square away my loose shit—it all falls apart. Like out of the blue, something blindsides me.”
Nik didn’t know what Mason meant, but he nodded as if he did, realizing that the mortal needed him to be rock solid right now. He’d learned that about Mason over the past six months: that stability, security, those things were worth more than gold to him. “Well,” he said after a moment, “you weren’t exactly expecting a demon in our kitchen. So you were blindsided.”
“I’m not talking about that.”
The problem was that Nik really had no idea what Mason was talking about. “Then explain,” he said laconically.
“It was her eyes. The look in them. For a moment, she stared at me, and I swear it was like . . .” Mason raked his hand over his scalp again, back and forth as if trying to soothe his troubled thoughts. “Forget it. It’s fucked.”
Nikos leaned forward and took a risk, the sort he rarely had the guts to try with Mason: He slid a palm onto the other man’s thigh, resting it there. “Tell me. Say it.”
Mason looked down at Nik’s hand as if it were a disembodied object, as if he wasn’t sure how it had even arrived on his leg. But Nik went on instinct; Mason needed reality, needed connection, so he didn’t move.
“It was like, for this split second, that woman—demon, whatever—her eyes changed. They became . . . hungry. For me. She looked at me like she wanted me.”
Nikos almost laughed, as inappropriate a response as it would’ve been. Because he certainly understood looking at Mason Angel and wanting him. He probably did that at least ten times a day. Nik nodded for him to continue. “Go on,” he urged, keeping his palm steady on Mason’s leg, afraid any sudden movement would send him running for emotional cover. “Tell me, Angel.”
“I haven’t seen a look like that since . . .” Mason’s eyes closed again, and he gave his head a shake. “Fuck. I am losing it.”
“Where’ve you seen a look like that before?” Nikos insisted, desperate to keep Mason open and alert.
Mason only mumbled, “Forget it, dude. Just forget I ever said anything.”
“Do you still think she’s a demon?”
The human shrugged, slowly opening his eyes. “I’m not sure of anything anymore, Nik,” he whispered, sinking back heavily into a chair. “Not even me.”
Chapter 9
“W ell, now that we’ve managed to clear half the crew out, maybe you’ll tell me exactly what you are, hon.” Jamie Angel smiled like a perfect Southern gentleman, leaning one
Nikos leaned in a little closer, still squatting but working to meet Mason’s eyes. “Talk to me,” he urged softly. “You and I . . . we’re always good that way, right?
Mason’s green eyes were no longer distant, but alert and locked with Nik’s. “You don’t have to treat me like a pussy,” Mason said, playing it tough. But his eyes. His eyes begged Nikos to fix whatever had come unhinged inside his mind, his soul. “I don’t need a psych evaluation.”
“No Dr. Freud here.”
“Yeah, you’ve probably done time on the guy’s couch, long as you’ve been alive,” Mason muttered, a hollow attempt at humor that Nik wasn’t about to let distract him from the real issue.
Nikos nodded, saying nothing at first, then, “You have that look. The one you had when I first met you . . . the one I’ve observed in a lot of men over the years. Men who’ve seen too much, fought too long.”
Mason’s eyes drifted shut. “Nik, tell me I’m okay. Tell me I’m still here,” he murmured. “Tell me I’m still tight.”
“You’re right here with me. Totally lucid.”
Those green eyes opened again, filled with a kind of terror that Nik had never seen in the man before. “Because that . . . thing? It spooked the hell out of me, dude. It was . . . Oh, shit, I’m losing it. Losing my fucking mind! Just when I think I’m all glued back right—when I think you’ve helped me square away my loose shit—it all falls apart. Like out of the blue, something blindsides me.”
Nik didn’t know what Mason meant, but he nodded as if he did, realizing that the mortal needed him to be rock solid right now. He’d learned that about Mason over the past six months: that stability, security, those things were worth more than gold to him. “Well,” he said after a moment, “you weren’t exactly expecting a demon in our kitchen. So you were blindsided.”
“I’m not talking about that.”
The problem was that Nik really had no idea what Mason was talking about. “Then explain,” he said laconically.
“It was her eyes. The look in them. For a moment, she stared at me, and I swear it was like . . .” Mason raked his hand over his scalp again, back and forth as if trying to soothe his troubled thoughts. “Forget it. It’s fucked.”
Nikos leaned forward and took a risk, the sort he rarely had the guts to try with Mason: He slid a palm onto the other man’s thigh, resting it there. “Tell me. Say it.”
Mason looked down at Nik’s hand as if it were a disembodied object, as if he wasn’t sure how it had even arrived on his leg. But Nik went on instinct; Mason needed reality, needed connection, so he didn’t move.
“It was like, for this split second, that woman—demon, whatever—her eyes changed. They became . . . hungry. For me. She looked at me like she wanted me.”
Nikos almost laughed, as inappropriate a response as it would’ve been. Because he certainly understood looking at Mason Angel and wanting him. He probably did that at least ten times a day. Nik nodded for him to continue. “Go on,” he urged, keeping his palm steady on Mason’s leg, afraid any sudden movement would send him running for emotional cover. “Tell me, Angel.”
“I haven’t seen a look like that since . . .” Mason’s eyes closed again, and he gave his head a shake. “Fuck. I am losing it.”
“Where’ve you seen a look like that before?” Nikos insisted, desperate to keep Mason open and alert.
Mason only mumbled, “Forget it, dude. Just forget I ever said anything.”
“Do you still think she’s a demon?”
The human shrugged, slowly opening his eyes. “I’m not sure of anything anymore, Nik,” he whispered, sinking back heavily into a chair. “Not even me.”
Chapter 9
“W ell, now that we’ve managed to clear half the crew out, maybe you’ll tell me exactly what you are, hon.” Jamie Angel smiled like a perfect Southern gentleman, leaning one
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