That’d probably be a trip to see. “And the red arrows?”
“I’ve dipped the arrowheads in my poison. Most Loreans won’t survive even that dose.”
“Who was the last person you assassinated?”
“A descendant of that queen. Before I killed Magh, I swore I’d stamp out her entire line.” Just talking about that female made his eyes glint with hatred. “Each Møriør wants something in the Gaia realms. I work toward retribution.”
“Do the others have vendettas?”
“Some, but there’s more.” He seemed to be deciding how much to tell her.
“Like what? Do you plot worlds domination?” she asked, trying to lighten his mood once more.
Deadly serious, he said, “Yes.”
Whoa. “Are you going to set up some kind of dictatorship?”
“How would that be different from what you do in your neighborhood? You police it and protect your people from threats. Imagine if your actions alone kept your entire neighborhood—no, your nation—from absolute destruction.” He shot his glass, then picked up hers. “I want you to meet Orion. He’d best explain it to you.”
Rune wanted to introduce her to his people? “You’d arrange a meeting?”
“In time. As I’ve said, you need allies. You could have none finer.”
“Do any of the other ones have a mate?”
He coughed on his drink. “Why would you ask that?” He cleared his throat, emptied the jug, then signaled for another.
“Because I’m totally yours.”
He looked rattled. “I’m not even a demon. I’m a dark fey—and they don’t get mates.”
“Says who?”
“I’ve never met a dark fey who had one.”
Funny how he didn’t say Jo could never be a possibility. “But you don’t know a lot of them, right?”
“I thought we agreed you had a crush.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Nope. Wouldn’t have agreed with that.”
“Then explain how you can be so sure.”
“The first time blood touched my tongue, I knew I was a blood-drinker forever. I didn’t need to date Blood for a few months and then move in with Blood and meet Blood’s family to be sure.”
“Yes, but that’s instinct.”
“Exactly. Don’t you trust yours?”
Instead of answering her, he asked, “Do you think the reverse is true? That I’m yours?”
“I thought they went together.”
“Often, but not always.” He leaned in closer, peering into her eyes. “Am—I—yours?”
She leaned in as well. “I’d—lay—odds.”
He drank again. “When a Lorean male finds his mate from a different species, the female is usually resistant. I’ve seen more than one acquaintance go to hellish lengths to secure a future with a mate who is other. I’d expect you to fight every step of the way. Not ask for a commitment on day four!”
“What a breath of fresh air I am. Look, I know what I want, and I’ve been waiting for this. So just spitball with me. What would happen if I was your mate and we had sex?”
“My body would recognize yours. I’d begin to produce seed for you,” he said, his voice getting huskier.
“You like imagining that?”
His eyes darkened even more. “The idea of filling you with my cum? Fuck yes, it’s erotic as hell.” He scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “Yet the reality would prove to be anything but—if this were even possible. Everything in me is poisonous. Why should I expect my semen to be different?”
“But I’m immune to everything in you.” She turned his question back on him: “Why should we expect your semen to be different?”
“Would you take that risk? If there’s an infinitesimal chance you’re mine, there’s a chance you could die in agony.”
“I’m immune to you; you’re delectable to me. Seems we’re compatible, huh?”
He was either surprised or frustrated by her blasé attitude, or both. “There’s more. After giving you seed you might not survive, the demon in me would need to mark your neck with a bite, forever signaling to other males you’re taken.”
So that was what Desh had mentioned. “It’d be like getting a tattoo? You have tattoos—I want one!”
“No, no, it’s not like that.” Definitely frustrated. “It would be invisible to all but demons.”
She pouted. “I wouldn’t be able to see my own tatt?”
“Will you let me get to my point? I would sink my fangs—also lethal—deep into your flesh. Could you withstand so much poison in your body? What if the effect is cumulative?”
“You’d screw me, come in me, and bite my neck? You just described my dream date.” She shivered. “So what will I do?”
He shot another glass. “Females climax from a demon’s bite.”
“Sign. Me. Up.”
He was getting agitated. When he poured more of his drink, some sloshed over the rim. “Why would I go seven thousand years without a mate? What’s your explanation? I’ll tell you mine: because it was never going to happen anyway. You can’t change my thinking on this. I’ve had eons to accept my fate.”
“It’s because I wasn’t born yet, sport.” She poked his chest with her forefinger. “I just arrived on the scene twenty-five years ago. Plus, it’s an Accession. You said Loreans find mates around those times. So while seven thousand years sounds bad, in truth I’ve only missed the first thirteen Accessions of your life.”