I couldn’t help notice that though smaller, my kitchen was nicer than Piscary’s. Kist led me to a metal institutional-looking fire door. He opened it and flicked on a light to show a small white room floored in oak. The silver doors of an elevator were tucked out of the way. A wide-mouthed, spiral stairway leading downward took up much of one wall. The stairway was elegant, the modest chandelier above it clinking faintly in the upwelling draft. A wooden clock the size of a table hung on the wall opposite the stairway, ticking loudly.

“Down?” I said, trying to keep from looking scared. If Nick didn’t find my note, there was no chance I’d be coming back up those stairs.

The fire door snicked shut behind him, and I felt the air pressure change. The draft smelled like nothing, almost a void in itself. “Let’s take the elevator,” Kist said, his voice unexpectedly soft. His entire posture changed as he focused on an unknown thought. He had left me some of my charms….

The elevator doors opened immediately when he pushed the button, and I got in. Kist was tight behind me, and we faced the doors as they closed. With a soft pull at my stomach, the elevator started down. Immediately I swung my bag around and opened it.

“Idiot!” Kist hissed.

A tiny shriek escaped me as he slid, pinning me into a corner. The room shifted under me and I froze, poised to act. His teeth were inches from me. My demon scar pulsed and I held my breath. The pheromones were less in here, but it didn’t seem to matter. If there was elevator music, I was going to scream.

“Don’t be stupid. You don’t think he’s got cameras in here?”

My breath came in a soft pant. “Get away from me.”

“Don’t think so, love,” he whispered, his breath sending tingling jolts from my neck and making my blood pound. “I’m going to see just how far that scar on your neck can take you…and when I’m done, you’re going to find a vial in your purse.”

I stiffened as he pressed closer. The scent of leather and silk was a pleasing assault. I couldn’t breathe as he nuzzled my hair out of the way. “It’s Egyptian embalming fluid,” he said, and I tensed as his lips shifted against my neck with his words. I didn’t dare move, and if I was honest, I’d admit that I didn’t want to as tingling ribbons of promise flowed from my scar. “Get it in his eyes, and it will knock him unconscious.”