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would be touching her—the scent of honey drifting from him with increasing potency.
    Her nose crinkled as though she smelled something distasteful, but her nipples were already pearled for him, pretty and perfect against her clothing. “What is that smell?”
    â€œArousal,” he said, seeing no reason to deny it. He hadn’t smelled the lust-craze, which was far more pungent than his fight-craze, in so long he’d despaired of ever smelling it again. Right now, he reveled in it. “Do not try to pretend it displeases you.” Not while he could see the rosy flush of her cheeks.
    Macy’s lush mouth floundered open and closed, and her hands shook. “Arousal makes a man burn, yes? Well, I’ll show you something else that burns.” Using her thumb, she changed the setting of the pyre-gun and fired at him. Just as before, he grinned and sidestepped the beam—a yellow beam this time, which meant she was through trying to stun him and now wanted to fry him.
    Swiftly he closed the distance, stopping mere inches from the barrel. “I believe I mentioned that I’m growing tired of this.”
    She almost fell backward with the force of her gasp. “And I grow tired of telling you to stay back!” Another shot.
    This time, close as he was, he wasn’t quite fast enough to dodge. The yellow-gold flame singed his upper arm. “That hurt. ”
    â€œReally? I thought you liked to burn.”
    The scent of honey should have dissipated as that small patch of skin blistered and sizzled. It didn’t. In fact, it only seemed to increase. That he desired her enough to emit the telltale perfume despite being injured was baffling. Even with his two-year abstinence, which blew his “I’m just desperate” theory.
    How was she drawing more desire from him than any other female ever had?
    She wasn’t (naturally) golden, as he would have preferred. She wasn’t biddable, as he was used to. Being perplexed by her, even enchanted, he understood. She was a novelty. But this much desire? Just then Breean suspected he would have wanted her even if he were sated.
    Quite simply, she tempted him on every level.
    In theory—he was full of those today—he could have disarmed her, and had her on the ground, penetrated, before she even realized what was happening, the lust-scent making her want it despite everything around her. While some part of him would have enjoyed that, because God knew, he was a man, the rest of him knew that her willing, wholehearted participation would be a thousand times sweeter. The hardest battles, he’d come to learn, elicited the most gratifying victories.
    â€œYou’re surrounded, Macy. Drop the weapons and admit defeat. No one is going to hurt you.”
    â€œI’ll admit defeat when I’m dead. How’s that?”
    â€œI’m afraid I cannot grant your request. Your death would disrupt my plans for you.”
    Her cheeks drained of color, and she lost some of her bravado. “W-what plans?”
    Rather than answer her, he tilted his head to the side and regarded her intently, drinking in her sparkling blue eyes with that hint of green and remembering the way she’d moved only a few minutes before. “What planet do you hail from?”
    Undiluted panic flooded her expression. Breath rasped from her, so loud in the ensuing silence that the sound of it scratched at his ears.
    â€œI’m from here.” She fired. “I’m from Earth.”
    He ducked. The ocher stream glided straight through the top outline of his essence, which had been left behind by his swiftness. “Liar.”
    â€œI am!”
    â€œYou say that after everything I’ve witnessed?”
    â€œYes.” Fire.
    Duck. Finally he cut through the rest of her personal space, nothing between them but a whisper. He might not want to force her, but he would have to subdue her before she ran or injured him further.