King of the Damned (League of Guardians 2)

“Everyone has a beginning, middle, and end, Azaiel. I’d like to know your beginning and middle. For want of a better word, we’re a team, so don’t you think we should at least know the basics about each other?” She flashed a smile. “I’m sure that Batman knew everything there was to know about Robin.”

Another Batman fan.

“Of course I’m Batman, and you’re the sidekick,”

“Of course,” he murmured.

Azaiel studied her through hooded eyes. Her hair was damp, and the odd piece that had loosened from her ponytail clung to her forehead in wispy curls. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes clear, and that damn mouth was parted in such a way that his thoughts immediately went south.

His groin tightened as a soft smile stole over her features.

Way effing south, and she knew it. Jezebel.

“I’m not that interesting,” he said stiffly, frowning through his words as her smile deepened.

“How old are you?”

He considered her question.

“Come, on. Ballpark figure.” She was flirting, and some small piece of him melted. What the hell was he going to do with her?

“Rowan, I’ve been around for millennia.” His eyes stared into hers intently. “Do you know what that means?”

“That you’re really, really, really”—she paused dramatically—“old?”

He smiled; he couldn’t help it. The little witch was working it, and there was nothing to do but play along. “Among other things, yes, that’s exactly what it means.”

“So what do you—”

He shook his head and narrowed his eyes. “No, my turn.”

She laughed, a full-bodied, unconventional laugh that drew the attention of the men in the corner. She waved at them and giggled. “Oh this is a game, is it?”

“Seems fair, don’t you think?”

“Sure, go for it.” She took another sip of her coffee and leaned into the booth. “Ask me anything you want.”

He opened his mouth, but she stopped him before he had a chance to speak. “But the only rule is that we have to be honest, all right?”

Azaiel held her gaze for several moments before he spoke. “Who’s Mason?”

Rowan looked surprised at his question. “Oh.” She glanced away and shrugged. “Mason is . . . or was a man that I was involved with back in California. He was my boyfriend.”

“So you’re not involved anymore.”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

This pleased him. “Just like that.”

She nodded. “Just like that.”

“When did you—”

“Ah, ah, ah . . . I just answered two questions.” She grinned, and he found himself doing the same as she licked her lips. “My turn.”

“Fine.”

“Who carved the wings into your shoulders?”