The Storm #2
Those details weren’t even the most alarming thing about him.
That was definitely his eyes. Glowing golden eyes with vertical pupils that seemed to miss nothing around him, if his darting glances were any indication.
And his body was muscular, chiseled perfection.
Lord, the man had some thighs. His legs ended in thick, gnarled claws.
Greta was not a woman who was often without words, but she had nothing at all to say when confronted with the sheer physicality of the man before her. She was in so much fucking trouble—in more ways than one.
“I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t die in my forest,” he said, sounding annoyed.
Greta blinked a few times, sure she had misunderstood him. “Wh—what?”
He stood straighter, which hadn’t seemed possible, and it made him even more imposing. “You die in that ravine, and there’ll be cops and rangers all over these hills for weeks, trying to figure out if there was foul play. They scare the game and generally make themselves a real fucking nuisance.”
Of all the nerve. “I’ll try to keep that in mind next time I’m trying to outrun a flash flood.”
His eerie golden eyes moved over her slowly. “You shouldn’t have been down there in this weather. What the fuck were you thinking?”
She put her hands on her hips. “I was out hiking, and it suddenly turned into a downpour.”
“Even before the rain, you were being careless. Stomping around in the woods singing at the top of your lungs.” His nostrils flared. “I heard you from more than a mile off.”
How long, exactly, had he been following her? Somehow, that idea didn’t make her as nervous as it should. Not at all. “I was trying to make noise.”
“Well, you succeeded. Ruined a perfectly nice afternoon with your caterwauling.”
Something about the set of his smug lips made her want to slap him. And then kiss him. Damn it, what was wrong with her. She crossed her arms. “Well, maybe mind your own business next time.”
His glare was a golden fire. “I already regret saving your life.”
That brought her up with a start. She’d entirely forgotten that he had pulled her out of what was probably certain death. She exhaled a sigh. “Thank you. For saving my life, I mean. Not for being an absolute raging asshole.”
He smirked. Lord, he just tripped all her switches. That combination of hot and arrogant should be illegal.
“You’re welcome.” Thunder rumbled overhead, and he regarded the sky with a sullen expression. “Come on. You need to get out of the rain and dry off. Your temperature is already falling, and I don’t think this is going to let up soon.”
She didn’t ask how he knew what her temperature was, though she was curious.
When he set off, she followed because she didn’t have any better option at the moment.
She had no idea where she was or which way she should be headed.
He seemed to know where he was and where he was going, and that was good enough for now.
“I’ve never seen it rain like this here,” she said as she pulled up alongside him.
“Happens from time to time. Not often. Been a drought for several years now though. We were due.”
“Have you lived out here long?”
He slid a look her way, and for a moment, she thought he wouldn’t respond, but then he surprised her. “Going on twenty years now.”
“Wow. Just by yourself all that time?”
“I used to live closer to the city, but as it spread outward, I had to move further. Basilio Reyes doesn’t really like those who can defy him living within what he considers his borders.”
She turned to look over his profile, not sure what to make of being rescued by a creature powerful enough that he frightened the Demon King of Las Vegas. “He’s dead. More than three months now.”
He glanced her way, surprise registering in his expression, and then snorted. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.”
“Agreed.” Her life had been easier than most under Basilio’s rule because she was a rare type of witch that he had often had need of, but she’d still been glad when she’d heard the news.
He’d been a bastard through and through and had done immeasurable harm over the decades. “I’m Greta, by the way.”
“Ixoril.”
“That’s an interesting name.”
He shrugged. “Not among my kind.”
“And what are you?” She still hadn’t been able to piece it together. Feathered wings. Scaled tail. Those eyes.
He shook his head. “You are a remarkably rude little thing, aren’t you?”
She stopped. “What?”
He turned to glare at her. “You don’t just go around asking people what they are.” His tail lashed back and forth a few times. “It’s rude. What if I were to blunder into a conversation with you and ask you what sort of witch you are?”
“I’d tell you I’m a life witch. I don’t get the problem. How else am I supposed to find out?”
“Some things aren’t your business, little witch. And some questions are better left unanswered.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s stupid.”
He aimed a flat look her way. “So is standing out in the rain when you’re a warm-blooded creature who is soaking wet and the temperature is plummeting. Come on.”
He did have a point about that. The cold was seeping into her now that she wasn’t moving, so when he started to stomp off again, she followed him. But she muttered under her breath the entire way.