Daemon Fire (Darkin World Book 3)

Chapter Four

"Are you two together?" Owen asked. Setting his go-bag on the porch, he then jabbed the key into the lock. It nearly broke from the force he used.

Was Ophelia playing him as Ife had done? This was why, he reminded himself, he'd sworn off women. Or, more precisely, relationships and love.

"Nah," Ophelia intoned from behind Owen. "Space is limited at the moment, so we've been forced to cohabitate. "Besides," she added. "Søren isn't my type."

Owen's shoulders relaxed.

"I prefer the tall, dark and handsome type," Ophelia purred just over Owen's left shoulder.

Whipping his head around, Owen noted that Ophelia – he preferred that name for her - was indeed closer. Turning the knob, he opened the door. There was no way he'd fall into her trap, make a fool of himself over a woman again. "Like Nikos?" he asked as he bent down to grab his duffel bag.

Immediately, Owen realized his mistake. It wasn't two hours ago that he'd planned on seducing some information out of her. He should've taken the opening she provided and played her game.

Fi was practically giddy. Owen's continued jealousy gave her hope. "Nikos?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. A slow smile spread across her lips when Owen turned around. "No, he's not who I hold near to my heart."

Twin, raven brows rose at Fi's admittance. Was that a blush staining Owen's high cheekbones? Before she could get a better look, he entered her house.

Although Fi had moved in only the day before, the place had begun to feel like hers. Now, the walls were bare of the paintings she'd collected throughout her four hundred years on this continent. The orange, grey and white accents from rugs, throws, and pillows were gone. The life had been stripped from her home in two, short hours.

Owen walked to Fi's soft white sofa. He dropped the duffle bag onto her grey-washed hardwoods. Hands on hips, he surveyed the open-concept ground floor. "It's a bit sparse, but it'll do."

The simple statement wounded Fi in a way she hadn't been expecting. She wanted Owen to love her place, her décor as much as she had. If only he could see it with her personal things inside.

"This leads to the backyard?" Owen walked to Ophelia's French Doors off the dining area. A chipped, concrete patio abutted a fair-sized yard. Since it was the depths of winter, the ground was frozen. Landscaping would have to wait for Spring.

"Yes." Fi came to join Owen. The moon was mostly full and shone off the snow on the ground. The icy, chipped concrete was an embarrassing eyesore. "When the weather warms, I-" Ophelia cleared her throat. "-We will fix the yard too."

"It'll serve my purposes," Owen said as he faced the living room. "I need to build a foundry, but I'll put everything back to its original state when I leave."

Of course, Fi knew about shaman and their foundries. They were workshops located deep underground. Although she knew of their existence, she'd never seen one. Maybe Owen would let her inside his?

"The fridge should be stocked with essentials. If you need anything, just let me know," Fi said when the silence stretched.

Owen grunted his answer. "The bedroom is upstairs?" His deep, red-brown eyes landed on the staircase several feet off the entryway.

"Yes, the last door on the right," Fi readily answered. One bonus of having Nikos appropriate her house was that Owen would be sleeping in her bed. The pillows and sheets would soak in his scent. Ophelia had to stop herself from leaning in and doing so with her nose.