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little witch, wanting the one man she could never have.
    “This is cruel,” she said, forcing her voice to stay strong.
“Even for you.”
    The smile slipped from Ciar’s face. Catching her chin with
his fingers he forced her face back to him. “Cruel?” he asked. “This from a
woman who cursed me?”
    Mikayla didn’t flinch from the accusation in his gaze. “It
was a mistake.”
    “And the plot to take my memories? What was that, then?”
    She understood his rage. If their positions were reversed
she’d have done everything she could to remove his head from his shoulders.
What could she possibly say in her defense?
    “I’m sorry.” The words escaped her before she could call
back the flimsy sentiment. Her apologies wouldn’t matter to him in the least.
    His fingers tightened on her chin. “Not good enough,” he
told her. “Not nearly.”
    Mikayla looked up at his determined face and saw no mercy in
his eyes. She knew how demons dealt with their enemies. She’d heard stories of
their legendary viciousness, everyone had. But would Ciar truly turn the
cruelty in his nature against her?
    “It’s my fault,” she told him. “Don’t you dare harm my
sisters.”
    A nameless emotion flickered in his cold silver eyes. His
fingers brushed over her skin as he leaned closer to her. “What do you expect
me to do?”
    She said nothing.
    “Come, Mikayla. What do you think I’m capable of?”
    “Anything,” she answered, refusing to cower before him.
    He tilted his head to the side, studying her wide eyes.
“Even hurting you?”
    The urge to drop her gaze and hide was nearly overwhelming.
But if there was ever a time to be strong it was now. “I bespelled you.”
    “I remember.”
    “And I’ve heard stories of your kind…”
    He narrowed his eyes. “I told you before, you know nothing
of me,” he said. “This is further proof.”
    Ciar rolled off her before she could reply. He leapt from
the bed before pacing to the window.
    For a moment Mikayla froze, uncertain whether to go to him
or call up her magic. His back was to her, as if he didn’t consider her a
threat despite all the evidence to the contrary. She could take his memories so
easily. Instead she slipped from the bed and padded over to him on quiet feet.
    “Witches,” he murmured when she drew near. “Such trouble.”
    She swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
    He glanced at her over his shoulder. “You use your magic as
a weapon.”
    “Not always,” she said. “I’m not that kind of witch.”
    “Could have fooled me.”
    The barb struck home and Mikayla flinched. “What I did…” She
paused, unsure of her words.
    Ciar waited, saying nothing to absolve her guilt.
    “What I did to you doesn’t get forgiven,” she said, staring
at his back. “Do you think I don’t understand that? I never use my magic to
hurt. And then I went and did this. To you of all people.” Hot shame spiraled
through her. “I have no excuse. Tell me how I can ever make amends and I will
do it gladly.”
    She expected more bitter words. Part of her wanted him to
yell and rail at her the way she deserved. Instead a feather-light touch
trailed down her cheek. She wanted to look away but the gentle pressure of his
fingers left her no choice but to look up at him.
    She met his unreadable gaze. Guilt ate at her. She could
handle his anger easier than his pity.
    “Amends,” he murmured. “Perhaps you are not the only one
with recompense to make.”
    It would be so easy to accept his absolution but Mikayla
knew it was wrong. This was her fault. She’d cast the spell. “You didn’t do
anything wrong,” she whispered. “You just told me the truth. I should have left
you alone. I shouldn’t have forced my company on you.”
    A small smile twisted his lips. “Such a torture, your
company.”
    She flinched.
    “Shh,” he whispered. “Always misunderstanding me.”
    “Then make your meanings clear.”
    He stepped closer and lowered his head until his mouth was