Through a Crimson Veil by Patti O'Shea Read Free Book Online

and typed Mahsei into the search engine.
    No results. None related to demons anyway. Of course, humans didn’t always use the same terminology as the inhabitants of Orcus, and while he hadn’t heard of this group before, he knew where Mika’s type ranked as far as strength went; her energy sig gave it away. He put the Mahsei in the bottom twenty-five percent, but probably on the upper end of that spread since he’d felt her try to control the wind. Power and malevolence seemed to go hand-inhand with demons, so he doubted she was a danger to him—not magically at least.
    After casting a glance toward the bedroom, he typed in Mika Noguchi . It was another dead end, unless his houseguest was an Asian women’s wrestling champ—though the idea of her pinning him down had Conor shifting in his chair. He’d always been able to master his sexual urges, but with Mika, he was hanging on by his fingertips. Every instinct he had was clamoring to throw her on the bed and claim her. She’d be willing, he knew.
    He shook his head, denying his thoughts. She was ademon—he couldn’t want her. But he did, and it wasn’t simply lust she inspired. Since he’d met her, he’d felt frustrated and protective. He couldn’t afford either. The only way he could maintain control of his Kiverian side was to not allow himself any strong emotion; he’d learned that long ago. He had to stop reacting to her, had to rein himself in. If he lost too much self-command, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to cage his demon half again.
    The task wasn’t going to be easy. Mika enjoyed forcing a response from him—she pushed until she got one—and she wasn’t particular about what emotion she triggered. It seemed anger satisfied her as much as anything else.
    The memory of their previous interaction was seductive. His fury hadn’t frightened her, not even a bit. She’d wrapped her arms around him and smiled. Conor scrubbed both hands down his face. He’d liked that. A lot. Never before had anyone seen his rage and not been scared. Even his mother—
    He cut that thought off.
    The volume on the radio in his bedroom became louder, and he heard Mika start singing along. Her voice was good, clear and on-key. His body responded as if she were caressing it.
    Conor swallowed a curse and pushed out of his chair. A sometimes freelance agent for Los Angeles Battlefield Ops, an intelligence agency founded to keep tabs on the city’s paranormal populations and to keep them in line, he worked out of his home—at least as much as possible. To make things easy, he had set up a makeshift office in a corner of his great room, and the bookcase was maybe three steps from his desk.
    About half of his reference materials covered vampires and werewolves—his jobs were often to hunt down badass outlaws of those two species—but the other half was about demons. That was his personal interest. Scanning titles, he searched for a volume that would include the widest numberof breeds from Orcus, pulled it off the shelf and returned to his desk chair.
    Mika danced past the doorway, hips swaying as she slipped something onto a hanger, and his hands clenched around his book. His body howled with need. Her black pants fit her like a second skin, and the sleeveless black top wasn’t much looser—the view was riveting. He didn’t look away until she moved out of sight.
    Hanger? Shit, she was taking over his closet too. Resigned, he shook his head. That was the least of his worries.
    Determined to ignore his desire, Conor opened the text and started skimming. He just wished the damn thing had an index. Doggedly, he flipped pages and kept going, but he didn’t find any mention of the Mahsei.
    Heat filled him and he lost focus. Conor glanced up. Sure enough, Mika stood in the doorway watching him. Her pose made him stir again; her left hand was above her head, resting against the side of the jamb, and her right hand was on her hip, just below the low-slung, silver concho