Chase the Dark Read Free

put himself out of easy reach, propping an elbow on the counter. If sex appeal were an artist, he was its masterpiece. Golden brown skin sheathed lean muscle and flowed over the sharp planes of his cheekbones. His hair was an impossible platinum blond much lighter than his skin, his eyebrows dark, and his eyelashes thicker than any man should have. They framed eyes of an exotic amber shade like a dark patina brushed over ancient gold.
    Piper gave him her most disgusted glare. “Lyre, can’t you ever keep your hands to yourself?”
    “No,” he replied in his deliciously deep voice. There was no apology in his face, only grinning amusement at her discomfort. “You’re just so easy.” His eyelids lowered. “So am I.”
    She straightened from her aggressive stance and gave him an insulting once-over, taking in his impossible style of metrosexual crossed with a hint of Goth—he pulled it off, and did it well. The wide leather cuffs with metal studs shouldn’t have looked good next to his sleek gray shirt with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The chain running from hip to pocket really didn’t match his designer jeans, but it did. Damn, the guy knew what he was doing. Clean, safe, and charming but with that oh-so-sexy hint of bad boy—exactly the kind of guy who would appeal to almost any girl. And that body packaged with that face? Very few women said no to Lyre.
    Surprisingly, he didn’t seem offended she was one of those few. Then again, he never missed a chance to flaunt his availability.
    “Would you mind finding someone else to harass?” she growled. “I’m not in the mood right now.”
    His mouth quirked up. “I’m always in the mood.”
    Before she could come up with a retort, the second half of the dream team drifted out of the pantry, a box of crackers in his hand. Piper’s back stiffened.
    Ash barely spared her a glance as he crossed the kitchen to the fridge. Since he wasn’t aiming to terrify two bloodthirsty daemons, the aura of intimidation he carried was muted but still undeniable. Unlike Lyre, he didn’t have that cultivated appeal of “I’m a little bad but you can trust me.” Ash was all bad. Dressed in black from head to toe, some of it leather. His hair was even more impossible than Lyre’s—a wine-red so dark it was almost black. It was long enough to hang in his eyes and the left side was braided alongside his head with a blood-red strip of silk woven in. The loose end hung to his shoulder, the only color in his whole ensemble. Even his eyes were a cool, storm cloud gray.
    She exhaled with a little too much force. “Ash,” she greeted him. She’d been aiming for polite but it came out flat and angry.
    His slow, sharp gaze turned. She froze, hardly daring to breathe, as he seemed to look right into her, taking her apart piece by piece as though he knew her every secret. She shivered, feeling more violated by his look than Lyre’s touch.
    Then he popped a cracker in his mouth and the dangerous moment shattered. She sucked in a breath as he nodded an oh-so-casual return greeting as if he hadn’t butted into her business and made her look like an incompetent idiot less than an hour before.
    Lyre’s arm slid around her waist as he took advantage of her distraction. His fingers trailed suggestively up her side.
    “Would you get off?” She twisted away, glaring as he laughed and leaned against the counter again. “I just got in serious trouble and I’d like an excuse to punch something soft and bruisable.”
    His eyebrows rose. “The frog thing didn’t go down well with the Head, did it?”
    Her shoulders slumped. “You know?”
    “Everyone knows.” He shrugged. “It’s not that big a deal. Ether is an emotional dipshit. Powerful, but a dipshit.”
    “My father thinks it’s a big deal.” She scrunched her face and tried not to whine. “Why did Ether even have a pet frog?”
    “He’s pretty amphibious himself, you know. He’ll get over it. That frog was damn