Page 55 of Death Game: Supernatural Battle

My butler opened the door, and I slid out, smoothing my black jeans and knit sweater combo.

I’d control my steps toward Kyros.

I would.

Kyros ran toward me at human speed. The air whooshed from my lungs as he spun me in a circle. I laughed and looped my arms around his neck, lifting my legs to wrap them around his torso like the koala I was in a past life.

He walked toward the house, kissing my cheek. “I’m glad you’re here, true mate.”

And I was glad to be here.

I opened my mouth to tell him so, but snapped it shut, resting my head on his shoulder instead.

“Nothing to say?” Kyros asked as we entered the house.

“Nope,” I mumbled against his neck.

We tensed at the contact, but he relaxed after a breath. Maybe that wasn’t the smartest place to put my mouth.

He shifted me higher. “I can feel how content you are.”

It was true and I couldn’t deny it. Just as I wouldn’t confirm it, but I was so content that the current wasn’t as uncomfortable as usual.

“What did you get for dinner?” I asked.

A tiny sadness stirred within him. He grabbed a bag off the bench and then he was lugging me back out of the house, one hand under my ass.

“Thai food. I didn’t know what else you liked.”

“I’ll eat anything but olives and anchovies,” I answered, locking my legs tighter around him. The guy could toss cars around, but the one-arm hold was disturbing my human sensibilities.

Fred was gone when we reached the front door again. Exiting the house, Kyros left the door wide open and walked us off between the trees lining the driveway.

Throwing off the remaining awkwardness, I said, “Do you want to know a fun fact about human women?”

He glanced at me warily. “No.”

I tapped his nose. “We have legs that we can walk with.”

Kyros caught my finger in his teeth. Ouch, those fuckers were sharp! I sucked on it when he let go.

“You want to be in my arms, so why don’t you let yourself be in my arms?” he replied.

He dropped down into the outdoor area that I’d sat in while avoiding his family. The fire there was roaring. A bottle of wine sat on a low table between the swinging seat and the fire pit.

I tried to lower my legs, but he carried me to the swinging seat and set me on it.

Breathing thinly, I surveyed the setup, something akin to panic rising within me.

“My beauty,” Kyros murmured. “What did you think dinner with me meant?”

We’d had meals together before.

We slept in the same bed.

Stayed in the same house for more than a week.

This was adate, our first date if I excluded the beach—which I did because Kyros had coerced me into going. When I agreed, dinner was just casual. Sharing takeaway food at his kitchen bench before work didn’t hold the same terror as this romantic gesture that I didn’t want.

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