Finally, she reached the library and slipped inside. She knew why she’d been drawn there; within, it smelled like Thomas. This was his favorite room in the Coven, the one that doubled as his office. The place was steeped in the energy of Thomas and she felt comforted here.

She hesitated at the doorway, suddenly torn between wanting to enter and wanting to go back to Thomas. The desire jarred her. She’d never wanted to return to a man’s bed before. Moving by only the light that filtered through the big window, she felt her way to Thomas’s desk and flipped on the lamp.

Then she turned around and came face-to-face with Boyle.

Isabelle stared into the demon’s eyes for a moment, unblinking. Adrenaline zinged through her body. His eyes were flat gunmetal gray. She’d expected them to be empty, but they weren’t. The demon’s eyes were full of emotion, of personality. Like a human’s.

One would have to have emotion to want to chew on the bones of a child, wouldn’t one? One would have to have a force of personality to lie in wait within an attorney’s office for an innocent witch and then suck the life from her body and the magick from her soul.

Isabelle lunged backward, skidding over the top of Thomas’s desk, knocking everything off and grabbing a letter opener she’d seen as she went. The demon didn’t move as she put the heavy piece of furniture between them and brandished the weapon in her hand.

“You killed my sister.” She didn’t even realize the words had come from her throat until they were out. They didn’t even sound like they’d come from her, so low, so sinister, so gravelly. “You killed those four innocent witches. You tried to kill that little girl!”

The demon remained disconcertingly motionless, his eyes unblinking as his gaze bored into her. “It was necessary. I needed them.”

The answer was far from satisfactory. Pure rage blossomed in her chest. She moved from behind the desk. Taking her eyes from the demon fleetingly, she glanced to note Thomas’s sheathed sword lying against one of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. That would be so much nicer to have between herself and the demon than a tiny letter opener. As it was…

She hurled herself at the thing in front of her and plunged the letter opener straight into where she assumed the demon’s heart would be, if he had a heart.

Blood dripped from Boyle’s wound, but he didn’t move, didn’t react. It was like stabbing a living statue. She backed away, the letter opener still embedded to the hilt in his chest. Blinking away the sting of tears, she fought to comprehend that she hadn’t hurt him, not even a little.

She wanted so much to hurt him.

“I need you, too, Isabelle Novak.”