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

belt. Her lips were quirked up at the corners, giving her a mischievous look.
    Her smile changed as she sauntered toward him, became that provocative, come-and-get-me expression that had derailed his common sense earlier. He gripped his book tightly, fighting what she was doing to him.
    Control. He had to keep control.
    When she reached him, she leaned over his shoulder and looked at his console, her breasts brushing his back. His senses flooded with her. The soft sounds of her breathing, the sexy scent of her skin—even her laugh was intoxicating.
    “Conor, you pervert! Women’s wrestling?”
    Unbelievably, he felt himself blush. Hell. “I was researching you,” he grumbled.
    That earned him another laugh, and she moved closer, resting her chin on top of his head. He should have told her to back off, but he liked the feel of her pressing againsthim too much. Yeah, she was trouble, and that was with a capital T.
    “Well, how about that? I brought home a gold medal for Japan.” Mika wrapped her arms around him, her mouth moving next to his ear. “Do you want to practice some moves?”
    His entire body went rigid. “Knock it off,” he said. He managed to sound mostly nonchalant.
    She lightly nipped his earlobe before moving back, giving him some space. Conor closed his eyes and struggled for command. He wouldn’t lose it. He couldn’t.
    Mika settled on the couch a few feet away from where he sat and brought her left knee up to her chest. She wrapped her arm around her leg and stared at him. Great. Just what he needed: her assessing the damage she’d done to his self-control. But he shoved his demon nature into the background and met her gaze coolly. At some point, he noted, she’d taken off her boots, and damn it, her bare feet made her look innocent. He knew that was a huge lie; she was a demon.
    Half demon, a small voice whispered. Just like you.
    She had the eyes. They were the color of champagne, and he doubted she wore tinted contacts to hide them like he usually did. His gaze drifted, taking in the rest of her. Her hair was dark brown and fell to the tops of her breasts. It had felt soft pressed against his cheek. Her body—He caught her smile and realized where he was staring.
    “Like what you see?” she asked.
    He ignored it. “There’s nothing in here”—he raised the book—“about the Mahsei.”
    With a shrug, she said, “I doubt any human has written about us.”
    “Why?”
    “Most have a skewed idea of what demons are. We’re all supposed to be evil and make small girls hurl split pea soup.” Her grin returned. “But we Mahsei aren’t particularly dark. One of my kind might sneak into a house andshort-sheet the bed, but we don’t indwell—that means possess someone.”
    “I know what indwelling is,” he growled. Maybe he hadn’t gone to college, but he was practically a Ph.D. on demons.
    “Sorry. Most people don’t use that term.” She seemed more amused than apologetic. “In any case, our existence has largely been ignored, as we’re not dark enough to attract much notice.”
    “All demons have darkness in them,” he said. He knew what he lived with, knew what he fought almost every day.
    “So do all humans.”
    “That’s…different.” It was a lame reply and he wasn’t surprised when she laughed.
    Mika stretched her legs out from the couch and swiveled to put her feet on the battered coffee table. “You have a nice house,” she said. “It looks like you’ve done some remodeling.”
    “Subject closed?” Conor asked. He shut his book and tossed it on the desk. He’d do more research later. Demons lied. He had no reason to believe Mika was being honest about her race being left out of the books—or about anything else she’d told him. It was infuriating.
    “Did you really want to debate this when your best argument is ‘ that’s different ’ ? ” She waited a beat, then asked, “Now…I’m tired. Are we sleeping together tonight? Not that I mind,” she