figured if Diego had gone to all the trouble of hidin’ his map and then puttin’ only half the directions to it in a safety-deposit box, he might not hand it over without gettin’ something in return. That’s how I would be.”
“Diego knows the stakes if Rathe takes over.”
China snickered. “You think he’s gonna care? If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that people don’t much care what happens to the rest of humanity if they think there might be an end to the world right around the corner. They get grabby, and it’s every man out for hisself.”
Remy tightened his grip on his reins. “You have an awfully low opinion of humans.”
“Don’t have a much better one of Darkin.”
That surprised him. He was beginning to wonder if China really had loyalties to anyone or anything besides herself.
They rode on in silence. China didn’t see much point in making conversation with him. The more he found out about her, the less likely he was to trust her. And the more likely he was to stumble across the fact that she was related to his arch nemesis. More important, she needed his trust if she was going to get her hands on the Book and hand it over to Rathe.
Her new clothes weren’t nearly as soft and comfortable as the old ones she’d been wearing. They had too much store starch in them. A few dunkings and they’d be right as rain, but for now they made her feel suffocated. She also wasn’t certain she liked wearing a skirt. Even with it being a split skirt, she wasn’t used to the wash of air she got against her lady bits now and again. That just didn’t happen in well-fit britches. Not that she’d tell Remington.
There was a comfortable wedge of wariness in between them. Ever since he’d seen her with Colt, he’d backed away a bit, which gave her room to breathe. When Remington focused the full force of his attention on her, it seemed to suck all the air out of her lungs. No, this was far easier—on both of them.
As the dark blue bowl of the sky became rimmed with purple, and finally bruised a darker color, she looked at him, really looked at him. Remington Jackson was exactly the temptation she didn’t need. Her shifter eyes could detect far more light in the darkness than mere human eyes, giving her excellent night vision.
His big, blatantly male body rolled easily with the steady walk of the horse beneath him. Remington had the dark good looks, the intelligence, and the air of danger about him that was as addictive as any opiate, but it was cleverly cloaked in civility. In so many ways he was more dangerous to her than Colt.
Colt had been wild and reckless, but their relationship had been equal parts of mistrust and mutual physical attraction—never anything serious. He was a womanizer, and she knew it. It wasn’t as if she’d ever thought that Colt would give up his life as a confirmed bachelor Hunter to settle down with a Darkin. Was. Not. Going. To. Happen. He just wasn’t made that way.
But Remington was a far different man. That veneer of civility promised, if not in words in implication, that he’d do right by a woman—in short he seemed more the type to settle down with one woman once he’d made up his mind to. And for some reason that was so much more alluring to her than it should be.
He was more than just her type; he was exactly the kind of man that intrigued her most. Strong. Polished. Unattainable. Maybe it was because she’d seen her mother struggle for so long by herself. Maybe it was because she’d always felt as if she were set adrift in the world of the Darkin—part of it, but utterly alone without family or friends to cling to in stormy times.
In fact, looking at him objectively, if it hadn’t been for her miserable experience with Colt, she’d probably have already found a way to wrap Remington around her little finger. If she wanted to. If she could.
She wasn’t a succubus, and she couldn’t throw a glamour to gain a man’s compliance
“Diego knows the stakes if Rathe takes over.”
China snickered. “You think he’s gonna care? If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that people don’t much care what happens to the rest of humanity if they think there might be an end to the world right around the corner. They get grabby, and it’s every man out for hisself.”
Remy tightened his grip on his reins. “You have an awfully low opinion of humans.”
“Don’t have a much better one of Darkin.”
That surprised him. He was beginning to wonder if China really had loyalties to anyone or anything besides herself.
They rode on in silence. China didn’t see much point in making conversation with him. The more he found out about her, the less likely he was to trust her. And the more likely he was to stumble across the fact that she was related to his arch nemesis. More important, she needed his trust if she was going to get her hands on the Book and hand it over to Rathe.
Her new clothes weren’t nearly as soft and comfortable as the old ones she’d been wearing. They had too much store starch in them. A few dunkings and they’d be right as rain, but for now they made her feel suffocated. She also wasn’t certain she liked wearing a skirt. Even with it being a split skirt, she wasn’t used to the wash of air she got against her lady bits now and again. That just didn’t happen in well-fit britches. Not that she’d tell Remington.
There was a comfortable wedge of wariness in between them. Ever since he’d seen her with Colt, he’d backed away a bit, which gave her room to breathe. When Remington focused the full force of his attention on her, it seemed to suck all the air out of her lungs. No, this was far easier—on both of them.
As the dark blue bowl of the sky became rimmed with purple, and finally bruised a darker color, she looked at him, really looked at him. Remington Jackson was exactly the temptation she didn’t need. Her shifter eyes could detect far more light in the darkness than mere human eyes, giving her excellent night vision.
His big, blatantly male body rolled easily with the steady walk of the horse beneath him. Remington had the dark good looks, the intelligence, and the air of danger about him that was as addictive as any opiate, but it was cleverly cloaked in civility. In so many ways he was more dangerous to her than Colt.
Colt had been wild and reckless, but their relationship had been equal parts of mistrust and mutual physical attraction—never anything serious. He was a womanizer, and she knew it. It wasn’t as if she’d ever thought that Colt would give up his life as a confirmed bachelor Hunter to settle down with a Darkin. Was. Not. Going. To. Happen. He just wasn’t made that way.
But Remington was a far different man. That veneer of civility promised, if not in words in implication, that he’d do right by a woman—in short he seemed more the type to settle down with one woman once he’d made up his mind to. And for some reason that was so much more alluring to her than it should be.
He was more than just her type; he was exactly the kind of man that intrigued her most. Strong. Polished. Unattainable. Maybe it was because she’d seen her mother struggle for so long by herself. Maybe it was because she’d always felt as if she were set adrift in the world of the Darkin—part of it, but utterly alone without family or friends to cling to in stormy times.
In fact, looking at him objectively, if it hadn’t been for her miserable experience with Colt, she’d probably have already found a way to wrap Remington around her little finger. If she wanted to. If she could.
She wasn’t a succubus, and she couldn’t throw a glamour to gain a man’s compliance
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