“I’d like to see Kymaris,” Carrick replied with a cordial smile, hands clasped before him.
The daemon smirked as he started to shut the door in Carrick’s face. “She doesn’t see anyone.”
Carrick’s hand shot out, grasped the edge of the door, and stopped it about a foot from closing. The daemon was shocked, his eyes growing wide, but then narrowing in anger. He attempted to close the door, but it wouldn’t budge.
While Carrick continued to hold it open with just one hand, the daemon put his entire body weight against it and tried to force it shut. He grunted and sweat popped out on his forehead, yet he couldn’t budge it a fraction of an inch.
Carrick, meanwhile, just smiled as he easily held the door open and waited for the daemon to conclude that Carrick was stronger. It was actually quite comical when it happened, as the daemon had no clue what Carrick was. Only that he was powerful.
Giving up, the daemon puffed from exertion as he let the door go. Carrick gently pushed it all the way open and stepped into the foyer while the daemon took a wary—but very smart—step back. Carrick kept his genial smile in place, turning away to shut the door. Giving his back to the daemon was a show of strength and confidence, and it made the daemon take another step back.
When Carrick pivoted back to face him, he assumed a mild-mannered stance again by clasping his hands in front of his body and asking politely, “Now… may I see Kymaris, please?”
“And may I ask who you are?” the daemon asked just as politely.
“Carrick Byrne.”
Clearly, he was well known by name as the daemon’s eyes bugged out of his head. He made a hasty retreat from the foyer and disappeared into the house, hopefully to get Kymaris. Carrick was confident once Kymaris knew he was here, she’d give him an audience. She was too narcissistic not to.
It was definitely a calculated risk coming here because while Carrick was nearly indestructible, it didn’t mean Kymaris couldn’t hurt him or even potentially detain him somehow. But he had calculated the risks versus the potential benefits, and he’d decided it was worth it.
He wanted to know what Kymaris knew, and he banked on her huge ego wanting to talk.
Carrick didn’t wait politely in the foyer, but instead freely roamed. There was a double curved staircase leading to the upper level off the end of the foyer, a lavish dining room that sat twenty, a study, a library, kitchen, and the rear of the house held an enormous living area that was much like his—so large it had clusters of furniture to fill the space. The back was almost all floor-to-ceiling windows, and he knew from Maddox’s description of the property that the basement ran the length of the house just under the living area and had the same windows to look through.
He heard Kymaris approaching before he saw her, recognizing the click of high heels against lacquered hardwoods. Turning as she entered the living area, Carrick wasn’t surprised in the least how she was dressed and he knew it was for his benefit.
Kymaris still wore her frizzy platinum hair in a strangely sloped beehive and her makeup was garish. Yes, she was still one of the beautiful Dark Fae with structurally perfect facial angles and a perfect female form, which she was showing off in a slinky black negligee and black heels. Not for modesty purposes, she had a black silk robe over it, but it was unbelted and did little to conceal the lack of material of the negligee itself or that what little there was in all was overtly transparent.
Carrick had expected her to be deliberately provocative because he’d had a taste of her ego one time before, and she thought her looks alone had the power to command. She was also a highly sexualized immortal based on Maddox and Finley’s report the night of the daemon sacrifices, so he knew she’d put effort into trying to seduce him.
He gave her a brief once over, merely smiling as she approached.
It didn’t matter that she was evil incarnate, her expression was welcoming and her voice light despite its huskiness. “Well, this is a nice surprise.”
Kymaris walked past him, her shoulder brushing his as she shot him an inviting look. Carrick turned to watch her proceed to a built-in wet bar. She stopped and pulled the crystal stopper from a decanter of amber-colored liquor.
Looking over her shoulder, she asked, “Would you like a drink?”
“No, thank you,” he replied. Not because he thought she might poison him—for he couldn’t be poisoned—but because this wasn’t a social visit.
Kymaris poured her drink before turning to face Carrick, her robe billowing out to bare her legs for a brief second. Carrick’s eyes stayed pinned on hers, and she didn’t like that.