Demon's Hunger by Eve Silver

to take her up on her invitation.
    He liked her look—sleek, strong, sexy. He liked her bravery, her resilience. She'd been dumped with a heavy load and had yet to lose it. Actually, it was incredible the way she had coped with everything that had been thrown at her this morning, taking it all in, analyzing, assessing, her analytical mind working through the possibilities and quickly reaching conclusions that, to her, must be incomprehensible. He admired that quality in her, respected it.
    He glanced up, found her watching him. He liked the way she looked at him—as though she'd take him down and take what she wanted.
    Fuck. He wanted that. Wanted her . Because damsel in distress or not, he had a feeling that Vivien was a take-no-prisoners kind of girl.
    He was on dangerous turf.
    She was inviting him to play with her, her hazel eyes sultry and dark, her lips parted in a way that begged him to kiss her.
    "Backgammon?" he asked, his voice rough.
    Her gaze raked him, leaving Dain with no illusions about the game she wanted to indulge in.
    Dr. Vivien Cairn had one hell of a strange reaction to having her life turned upside down.
    And damn him, but he was tempted.
    He wanted to go to her, take her in his arms, hold her close. Offer her comfort.
    Yeah, right.
    Altruistic bastard, that was him, for sure.
    Not.
    He wanted her naked and writhing beneath him, screaming his name.
    But he needed Vivien for other reasons, reasons that involved the wall between dimensions and the safety of mankind. He wasn't enough of an asshole that he'd put everything the Compact worked for at risk just to get laid.
    If he did that, he'd be no better than the Ancient, betraying everything he believed in.
    Only, from the second she'd opened her front door, raked him with a look that screamed sex , then raised her gaze to his and let him read the shadows in her eyes, he'd had no doubt that with her, it would be more than a single hot night. And that freaked the hell out of him.
    Now, keeping his focus on his actions, he prepared the tea, sandwiches, and a mandarin-orange-and-spinach salad. He figured she must be hungry.
    She didn't offer to help. Wise lady. Standing hip to hip in the kitchen would not be their best plan, not unless the plan was to melt into a steamy puddle on the floor.
    Instead, she moved around the penthouse, spending a few minutes by each window, gliding from one to the next, looking out. The loft had a great view, but he didn't think she really found it all that engrossing. He figured she was more intent on avoiding him after that little interchange than she was on admiring the scenery.
    "Lunch is served," he said, pouring the balsamic dressing over the salad and giving it a quick toss.
    She pressed her lips together and turned to face him, her body outlined by the nimbus of winter sunlight that poured through the window at her back. Jeans. Black T-shirt. No bra. His gaze lingered longer than it should have.
    "Thanks. Actually, it's breakfast for me." The husky tone of her voice made electricity ramp through him.
    Deliberately, he lowered himself onto a stool at the far end of the granite kitchen island, poured two mugs of vanilla-bean tea, and added milk to one. He cocked an eyebrow at her, but she shook her head.
    "I take it black, thanks."
    It took her a few minutes to work her way closer. She flitted to the side table, picked up the coffee-table book of American roadside mailboxes and thumbed through it.
    "I like the rooster," Dain said when she got to the page.
    She smiled a little, nodded, put the book down, drifted closer. Finally, she gingerly climbed onto the stool at the opposite end of the island, leaving empty space between them.
    Safe space. A "no-fly" zone.
    He pressed a button on a remote, and a nice bluesy jazz colored the air. She cut a glance at him, then quickly looked away.
    "You okay?" he asked. "I know this must all seem very strange."
    She shifted a little on the stool, getting comfortable. "I'm used to