The man turns his head my way, and I’m immediately sucked into a pair of light hazel eyes that seem to blaze against his dark skin and are filled with warmth and kindness. His face is fairly youthful, though, and doesn’t match the gray in his hair. Beaming a smile that looks almost fond, he says, “Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise,” I reply with a return smile before opening my senses to him.
I get nothing—no dark vibe or joyful buzz. Staring at his face, I will something to come forth, but all I see is a human gazing back.
Interesting. Carrick actually has human friends. Or employees. Not sure what Titus is at this point.
And Carrick doesn’t seem eager to share. Neither does Zaid for that matter and what follows is a silence that could be awkward, but I’ve seen so much weirdness the last few weeks that an extended period of quiet can’t put me off.
But I decide to break it, my gaze moving over to Carrick. “Thank you for the flowers last night. That was thoughtful.”
“I didn’t send them,” he mutters, and from the corner of my eye, I catch Zaid whip toward Carrick with a scowl.
His daemon face, that is, for it needs to be said that once I see past the glamour, it’s easier just to maintain that view. It’s a bit difficult to switch back and forth, and while I’d probably prefer the human visage, I want to make sure I never forget what I’m dealing with.
Zaid’s protruding brow is heavily creased as he frowns at Carrick. The intimation Carrick wants me to believe is that he doesn’t have time to be bothered with such things, so it was Zaid who took it upon himself to extend a courtesy on behalf of my new silent partner.
But Zaid isn’t about to take credit for something he didn’t do, no matter how loyal he may be to Carrick. His lip curls as he turns his attention back to me. “To be clear… I most certainly didn’t send you flowers. I don’t have it in me to be thoughtful.”
I can’t pass up the opportunity to tease Zaid. Tilting my head, I give him an encouraging smile. “Oh, I’m sure that’s not true.”
He grunts in disdain before turning and exiting the gym.
My gaze returns to Carrick. “You know, you could have just said, ‘You’re welcome’. That would have been the easiest thing to do.”
Clearly amused, Titus bends his head, lifting a fist to snicker into it. Carrick shoots him a withering glare before turning back to me.
His chin lifts as he informs me, “Titus is an annihilator.”
I blink, having no clue what that is, but it sounds like he’s a pretty badass dude. So I merely reply, “Wow. That’s cool. I think.”
Both men stare at me.
“Um… what’s an annihilator?” I ask.
“Annihilators,” Titus replies in a deep, baritone voice, “are trained to track down and destroy Dark Fae and daemons.”
“All of them?” I ask, eyes wide.
“Just those who commit atrocities,” he replies with a grin.
“And just where does one train to become an annihilator?”
Titus flicks a glance at Carrick, who gives a subtle nod. It pisses me off that information is still not freely shared with me, which is fine. It only means I’ll keep my secrets close to the vest, too.
“There is a training academy located in an alternate dimension called Semper Terra,” Titus explains. “It’s there you train in all the ways to kill.”
I’m a bit versed in alternate dimensions and realities. I’m going to assume this land was created with the magic from a stone, just the way Faere was. Zaid told me there were many other realms or realities or whatever they are called.
More important things come to mind, and I’m immediately suspicious.
“You’re human,” I say to Titus.
He nods. “That I am.”
“To kill Dark Fae and daemon, you would have to be able to see beneath their glamours to identify them.” My tone is confident as I’ve paid attention to my lessons, and I know my abilities. “But I’ve been told by both Carrick and Zaid they’ve never seen anyone but me—as a human that is—have the ability to see beneath a veil.”
Titus nods, almost gravely. “You would be mostly right about that. I don’t have an inherent ability, nor do I know of any other humans who do other than you. In Semper Terra, we’re imbued with magic to help us see.”
And with that, he pulls up the corner of his t-shirt, right over his ribs, and I do indeed see washboard abs. With his other hand, he pushes the edge of his track pants down over a hipbone, which, of course, has that sexy V-shaped muscle just to the interior of it. I almost avert my eyes, not knowing exactly how far those pants will be pushed down or what he wants me to see.