Nix fought the urge to pout. Grumpy much?
Definitely in need of a nap.
“I’m an incubus,” he said easily. He wasn’t going to be scared off by a little mood swing. “We like to tease. You can handle that, can’t you? Handle little ol’ me?”
“You’re laying it on a bit thick.”
“Ilikeit thick.”
Ivan’s lips twitched.
Holy crap. Had Nix almost gotten a smile?
Ivan stood from his chair, not even giving Nix a moment to appreciate his victory. “I’ll sleep. You’ll keep watch.”
Nix tossed him a salute. “Sir, yes, sir.”
“And if Sascha comes, you’ll wake me immediately.”
Nix hopped off the desk, trailing after him. “How shall I wake you? With a kiss?”
Ivan stopped abruptly, so much so that Nix bumped into his back. He turned and offered Nix an impressive glare. “May I remind you, you’re here to help me, not seduce me.”
Nix grinned at him. “Why not both?”
Honestly, Nix had no idea what he was doing at this point. He was pushing too hard, and he knew it. And as a master of seduction, he knew better. But Ivan’s reactions were so varied and strange—hot one moment, cold the next—it was like Nix couldn’t help poking at him.
Bad incubus,he chided himself.Very naughty.
Ivan stepped away from him and stripped off his suit jacket, tossing it onto the leather couch. Yes, those were definitely some muscles lurking under that button-down. Nix resisted the urge to lick his lips again, this time for real.
“It’s you who couldn’t handle me,” Ivan told Nix coolly, loosening his tie.
He strode across the office to the door to the inner bedroom, Nix hot on his tail.
Then Ivan shut the door right in Nix’s face.
See? Hot and cold. A poor demon could get a serious case of whiplash.
Still, Nix grinned at the wood in his face. “I’ve handled worse,” he told the door. “And I managed just fine.”
3
Ivan
Ivan woke up where he almost always woke up—the spare bedroom in his office building. He was as familiar with the bare wall in front of his eyes as he was the back of his hand. And it might not have been a five-star hotel, but it was much preferable to his father’s old habit of napping on a cot in his warehouse.
Maybe sleeping poorly had been part of why the old man had been such a miserable son of a bitch. Maybe not.
It was best not to try to figure it out. Nothing good came from going down that road.
What had woken Ivan up? Not his alarm.
Ivan turned away from the wall he was facing and was met with glowing purple eyes. Only years of “training” as a child not to flinch—not to show any sign of weakness—kept Ivan from shooting up in bed.
Right, he’d summoned a demon yesterday. An incubus, as if hehad any use for one of those. An incubus who was staring at him, very, very close.
Weren’t incubi the demons that preyed on sleeping humans?
