Page 7 of Demon Loved
Perhaps this wasn’t an attraction, though. Perhaps this was only admiration, the same way he would admire one of Elena’s skillful pencil sketches or one of the stunning sunrises he’d viewed from her attic bedroom after he’d spent the night comforting her and reassuring her that she would never be alone.
Yes, it was much better…and less unsettling…to think of this Brianna McAllister as a particularly beautiful work of art.
He thanked the bartender and found an empty seat somewhat farther away from the woman than he would have liked. However, he could still hear her and see her, if not from an optimal position.
To his surprise, the wine tasted good. Was he more accustomed to this human body now, or was it simply that the white blend he’d been served was more suitable to his palate than champagne?
He couldn’t say for sure. The one thing he did know was that he was glad to be here, drinking this wine, listening to the woman sing…even if the reason for his presence in Jerome wasn’t anything so benign as simple tourism.
Well, the voice hadn’t given him a time limit for his mission, most likely because a being from a higher plane such as that didn’t have as firm a grasp on the boundaries of time as a human might. Belshegar had no doubt that if he dawdled too much, he might be recalled and taken to task, but he doubted such a thing would happen after his first night here.
Besides, this was intelligence gathering…of a sort.
Because he realized, as he drank his wine and listened to the music, that this Brianna McAllister was a witch, just as Elena and Alessandro and the various members of their families had been. Probably not the witch he was looking for, the one who had the precious artifacts in her possession, but still, witches always belonged to clans, and that meant Brianna quite possibly would know where the items he sought were being kept.
Or perhaps not. Perhaps those treasures were so precious that the witch and warlock who possessed them hadn’t spoken of them to anyone else.
Still, he couldn’t dismiss the possibility that Brianna McAllister might be an important source of information…and that meant he needed to figure out a way to talk to her once she was done playing.
The mere thought of doing something so bold sent a frisson of worry through him. At Elena’s reception, she’d introduced him to everyone as a cousin on her mother’s side in order to explain his presence there. Because her mother had abandoned the family when Elena was barely a toddler and had been a “civilian” — nonmagical person — as well, none of the Castillos had asked too many questions. He had felt like an ordinary man to them, and they’d accepted him as such.
Well, except for the demon lord Loc and his wife, Catalina, who knew the real truth.
But in that situation, Elena and Alessandro had been the ones to make the introductions, and Belshegar hadn’t needed to approach anyone on his own. Here, though, the only way he would be able to meet Brianna McAllister was if he went up to her of his own volition. She smiled sometimes as she played, but he noticed how she kept her gaze neutral, avoiding eye contact with anyone in particular, as if she’d discovered in the past that doing so would only invite attention she didn’t desire.
That theory seemed logical enough. She was very beautiful, and he guessed some men would have pursued her even if they hadn’t been given any real encouragement.
Which meant he needed to be neutrally friendly but not too bold. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her off.
He also noticed how magic seemed to thrum around her, although he could tell she wasn’t consciously wielding it, wasn’t doing anything that might bring attention to her witch nature. Indeed, he was fairly certain even another member of her clan or some other witch or warlock wouldn’t have detected those energies, but because he wasn’t human, he was able to sense the glow of the magic as it surrounded her, somehow resonating with the very beams overhead and the long sweep of the antique copper-topped bar.
Did she even realize what she was doing?
That was something he didn’t know for sure. Although their magic was born within witch-kind, waiting to awaken when they reached the age of ten or eleven, each witch or warlock had to learn how to wield that magic — or not wield it, as the case may be, since they were so careful to make sure their true natures remained concealed from the outer world.
The song ended, and Belshegar swallowed some wine to brace himself. Brianna spoke then, saying she was going to take a brief break before she came back for her next set. Her speaking voice was as sweet as the one she employed while singing, friendly and clear.
She got down from the stool and leaned the guitar against it, then went over to the bar to get a glass of water. Belshegar watched her, knowing he needed to approach…even though he had no idea how to do such a thing without seeming painfully obvious.
But then she took her glass of water and headed outside, clearly wanting to get some fresh air before she began the next segment of her performance.
Now or never.
Belshegar set down his glass of wine and went in pursuit of his quarry.
3
Of course Brianna had noticed the man as soon as he entered the tasting room. While she tried to avoid eye contact with people when she was playing, that didn’t mean she didn’t take note of the comings and goings in her audience…or see right away when someone particularly noteworthy sat down to listen to her music.
And this guy was super noteworthy.
Tall, with dark hair that just brushed his shoulders, eyes whose color she couldn’t quite make out because of the dim lighting in the space but were still way too sexy under those strong, level brows…the kind of cheekbones and jaw that seemed as if they might have been more suitable to the big screen than the Caduceus Cellars tasting room.
In fact, he kind of reminded her of someone, maybe an actor she’d seen in a movie or TV show, although if pressed, she wasn’t sure whether she could say exactly who.
And interestingly, he didn’t carry himself like the sort of man who knew just how good-looking he really was. Something about him seemed almost diffident, as though he wasn’t sure if he knew what he was doing but intended to try his best anyway.
That was why she couldn’t be too irritated when she saw him emerge from the tasting room and glance down the street. From anyone else, she would have thought this was an obvious cover to make it seem as if he hadn’t followed her outside, but in this situation, she couldn’t be quite sure.
