Cyra’s mind knotted into a tangled web as she darted toward the living room, following Henry. The moment she stepped out of the bathroom, a sense of coldness snapped around her, and the fog in her head from being around Gunn faded. She should have been checking on Henry and Nora the whole time, not kissing Gunn.

Still, his fiery kiss and touch engulfed her completely. “Mesmerizing” didn’t come close to describing how he left her feeling as if she floated through the heavens. But then he’d revealed his true colors. And of course it had been her fault. She never should have told him it was her first time. Shit! Who did that in the middle of the most earth-shattering moment? An idiot!

The way he’d recoiled, studied her, and judged her had imprinted on her brain.

Yep, he saw her as a weird girl who at nineteen still hadn’t lost her virginity. And he’d probably freaked out that she’d turn into a stalker. Far from it. Yeah, she wanted that initial time to be stupendous and orgasmic, but she wasn’t a fool to believe that a guy like Gunn would want anything more with her. Regardless, Gunn would be the kind of man she’d want to surrender herself to. His protectiveness left her writhing on the sharp cliff of pleasure. Intense and evocative. It was a temporary fairy tale she’d remember for a lifetime. God, even with her head clear, she still drooled over him.

She burst into the living room and found Henry alone on the sofa, his head cradled in his hands. “What happened?” She rushed up and sat next to him, their legs brushing. A swirl of guilt gripped her stomach for leaving him and Nora, knowing a monster resided in their home. What had she been thinking, getting carried away with Gunn in the bathroom?

“Nora’s gone.” Henry’s voice crackled as if he were about to burst into tears.

“What do you mean?” Had Nora fallen through the portal? With that single thought, she was on her feet, her muscles tight.

Henry lifted his head and shadows pooled under his red eyes. “I can’t find her anywhere.” His voice was soft and quivering. “What if the ghost got her? Or m…maybe she left me. She’s been threatening to walk out for weeks, angry at everything I say and do.” He shook his head, staring at the lush white rug beneath his slippers.

“I’m sure she hasn’t left. Gunn asked her to pack so you two can leave for the night. She’s probably next door asking if you two can crash there.” That made more sense, as there’d be no reason for Nora to go up into the attic. Would there? She caught a glimpse of the base of the stairs, deciding she had to check to be sure.

“No, no.” Henry huffed and drew her attention back to him. “Most of our neighbors are away for the holidays. I just know something bad has happened.”

Cyra reached over and rubbed his back, untrained to deal with relationship issues, but the least she could do was support the man. “I’ll go look for her.”

She turned to leave, but Henry clasped her hand. “I’ve checked every room, even the attic.”

Gunn marched into the room, distracting her from her thoughts. He stood broad-shouldered in the archway, his lips tight, and he wore the expression she’d become accustomed to: distant and screaming stay away. Well, at least it was the familiar look he wore each time they bumped into each other at Chase’s place. Now they could return to their stance of not talking. So why did the knot in her gut tighten?

“Henry,” Gunn began. “I think it’s best if you and Nora leave the house for the night. It’s a lot more dangerous than I initially thought, but by tomorrow, your house will be clean of spirits.”

Cyra appreciated Gunn toning back his spiel and not mentioning demons. That shit terrified the average person.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not until I know where Nora has gone.”

Cyra’s heart hurt seeing the man in sorrow.

“She’s gone?” Gunn scratched his head, causing his short strands to stand upright.

“I keep telling Henry Nora hasn’t left him. She just went out.”

Henry was hunched over, holding his head again with both hands. “I won’t leave without my wife.” A cry curled in his throat, and the earlier guilt intensified as Cyra couldn’t help but blame herself. She should have stayed with them, should have ushered them out of the house herself, should have stayed away from Gunn.

Cyra laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure it’ll be all right. She’ll be back. You’ll see.”

Gunn walked over from the window and paced back and forth in front of them like a caged lion. Her nerves danced. Gunn gave her the hard stare, the one that expressed his impatience to get Henry out of the house, and for once, she agreed with him.

“Listen, Henry.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “How about you go pack an overnight bag for you and your wife, and I’ll do another sweep of the house, then I’ll search the neighborhood? The house has a menacing spirit. I saw it in the attic. If you and your wife remain, you’re both at risk.”

Henry twisted in his seat to face her, constricting a cushion in his hands. “Of dying?”

“It’s a high possibility.” She smiled to ease his pain a little, and that prompted him to climb to his feet.

“Well, then, I’ll help you do another check of the house. We must first find Nora. What if she’s in trouble?”

Before Cyra could respond, Henry trekked out of the room and down the hallway.

Gunn sighed and darted right after him.

Okay, this wasn’t going to be so easy and in all honesty, she feared if she left it up to Gunn, he’d throw the old man out of his home. Sure, it was for his own safety, but in truth, only Gunn and Cyra understood the full extent of the terror harbored upstairs.

She hightailed it after them, determined to track down Nora.

Down the hall, past the bathroom, she followed the voices toward an enormous TV room the size of her entire apartment. God, if she owned such a house, she’d turn the area into her own personal cinema. Up ahead, the pair was in the doorway, Gunn’s arms flaying about. “Listen. Upstairs, you’ve got a gateway to Hell.”

Cyra gasped and rushed closer, plastering on a fake smile. She nudged Gunn in the ribs with her elbow and edged herself between the men, focused on Henry. “What he means is that it feels like Hell exists upstairs, and—”

“No, don’t change my words, Cyra. He needs to know the truth.”

The breaking point of her patience neared. She grappled with Gunn’s arm and dragged him aside, whispering, “Are you trying to give him a stroke? Use tact… if you have any.” She arched an eyebrow on purpose, gritting her teeth. What was wrong with him? Seriously, if blunt directness worked on demons, Gunn would have the whole city of Detroit cleaned in a day.

Gunn scoffed, his chest rising and falling quickly.

But when a loud moan rolled through the corridor, they both jerked toward the sound.

Nora was slinking her back along the wall, her cardigan and flowery blouse hanging off a thin shoulder, revealing a white bra strap.

Cyra gasped at the woman’s sudden sexual show, the complete opposite of what she’d been like before. But no demonic aura surrounded her.

“Henry, dear.” Her voice was satin soft. “Come to me.”

Her husband stumbled forward as if controlled by puppet strings, but Gunn shot his arm out across his chest, holding him back. “Don’t go near her.”

Cyra moved to Henry’s side, clasping his arm to keep him in place as Gunn stormed toward his wife, collecting the lasso from his belt.

“Gunn, she’s got no aura.”

He didn’t respond, raising his weapon and looping it around the woman’s outstretched arm that reached for her husband.

“Nora,” said Henry, “I’m sorry I never took you to Australia and didn’t believe you about the spirit you saw.”

“Henry.” She looked past Gunn’s large form, her fingers reaching for her husband. “I need you.”

Six seconds. That was all it took to exorcise a fiend out of a human. Three, Two, One. Nothing. No convulsing, fumes, or swearing.

“Parasite?” Cyra offered, convinced she was wrong the moment the word left her mouth. Demonic infections would show up in a person’s aura.

“Kiss me, Henry,” Nora cooed. “Kiss me under the mistletoe.”

Cyra’s head shot up, as did Gunn’s, which locked on the green vine with wide leaves and clumps of white berries sitting in the crevice where the ceiling met the wall. Ten inches of mistletoe dangled directly above Nora’s head.

Okay, she hadn’t seen that before, and to say the situation was strange was an exaggeration.

Cyra followed the greenery that crossed the bathroom entrance and appeared to have originated from the front part of the house. Henry squirmed free from her hold, moving around Gunn, and swept to his wife’s side, taking her into his arms.

Nora giggled when he leaned her into a slight backbend, kissing her with a passion Cyra had only seen in those dramatic old black and white movies. Sweet and intense. But the awkward situation heated Cyra’s cheeks as she felt like she was watching her grandparents kiss.

A sudden loud slap of the front door resonated as if thunder had clapped directly above the home.

Cyra flinched and dashed behind Gunn toward the front part of the house to find the door shut. Was it the demon? Except her gaze lifted to three more tentacles of mistletoe wriggling inside through a tiny gap between the door and frame, fanning across the ceiling.

“What the hell is that?” she croaked, unsure what she was looking at.

Gunn shook his head, watching the extending vines. Then at once, dimness fell over the hallway. The sunlight from the windows faded, and darkness filled the void. The crackling fireplace threw orange hues and shadows across the dimming rooms.

Her breaths raced and her head hurt trying to make sense of the situation. She burst into the main living room to find hundreds of mistletoe vines crowding across the windows from outside.

Her heart slammed against the back of her throat because she had zero idea what was going on, so she darted to the front door again and yanked it open.

A wall of mistletoe blocked the doorway, each vine threading around the next, like a pit of snakes crawling over one another. The last gaps of sunlight vanished.

Cyra’s feet cemented on the spot. She couldn’t find her words, let alone comprehend what was happening.

A slight tingle of energy rippled down her arms. Magic. She’d never seen a demon cast enchantment, so that meant one thing. Had she made a mistake with her earlier amplifying spell? Dread rocked her on her heels.

Gunn brushed past her, blade in hand. He slashed at the plants blocking their exit, but each cut was replaced by more.

“It’s not going to work,” she called out, wrapping her arms around her stomach, bile rising to the back of her throat.

She eyed the threads of mistletoe slithering along the ceiling, so she sprinted into the kitchen and carried back a chair. Gunn climbed up and cut the vines as he balanced on the seat. The plants he cut curled back outside the front door.

Cyra darted to the door and slammed it shut.

He hopped down, stuffing the knife into its sheath on his belt, and ran from one room to the next, checking the windows. His boots thumped the tiled floor as his breaths labored. She found Henry and his wife no longer kissing, standing near the staircase in a daze.

And while Cyra wanted to stop and ask them if they were okay, she couldn’t find her words. Instead, she switched on the light in the kitchen and grabbed the bowl of contents from her spell. Her hands trembled as she peered inside, using her finger to move the wet contents about.

“What is that?” She pinched a black string-like object wrapped around the pine cone and pulled it out. It had tiny leaves and berries… charred black. Mistletoe? How had that gotten in there?

Ice clasped around her chest because getting the slightest thing wrong in a spell could turn the simplest intention into apocalyptic disasters. She glanced out the kitchen window at the greenery blocking out any light. God, what had she done?

Gunn rushed into the room, gasping for air. “We’re literally prisoners in this house. Everything is blocked. What’s going on?”

Coldness filled Cyra. “When you ripped the pine cone off the wreath, you must have picked up some mistletoe.” She tossed the pinecone back into the bowl on the counter.

“And? You’re the spell caster. Why’d you put it into the concoction?” He folded his arms across his chest, and she couldn’t believe he’d just blamed this on her.

“This is your fault for distracting me with your stupid words about me not being a good enough witch.” But deep inside, her head screamed that this was her fault. She was the spell creator and being cautious came with the gig. The mistake was hers for not paying attention and for letting herself get distracted. Add the heated moment in the bathroom, and she’d double screwed up. If she had guarded Henry and Nora, stayed with them, she might have noticed the mistletoe taking over the house and gotten everyone out before it was too late. Instead, the mistletoe must have fogged her thoughts and turned her all horny.

Gunn cracked his neck. “Then do a reverse spell.”

His words irked her and for the first time she was seeing the real Gunn, the guy who spoke as if they were in a military foot drill and someone had appointed him sergeant. “Are you always so arrogant?” she asked.

“I’ve been called many things before, but that’s new.”

She laughed, forced and all for show. “Well, you are the epitome of rudeness, coming in here, bossing everyone around. And patronizing me.”

A sly grin crawled across his lips, and Cyra anticipated his rude comeback, remembering her brother had once told her how Gunn had ripped into a gang leader for peddling drugs on his street corner. Apparently, no punches were used, just words, but the gangster had peed his pants. Now, whether that was true or an inflation of egos, which seemed a necessity to be a demon hunter at Argos, she didn’t care. She’d give as good as he gave.

Gunn studied her and stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, slouching on one leg. Right there. He might appear like the perfect god-like specimen with his pose, muscles, and chiseled jawline. But he was the devil in disguise, and she had to remember that. There was a reason her brother had warned her to stay away from the hunters. None of them wanted to settle, and Gunn had a broken past after losing a girlfriend to a demon, and that had changed him. Or so Chase had said.

“Listen,” he said. “Let’s pick up this conversation later. Right now, all I care about is getting you and the old couple out of the house and keeping you all safe. Then, we can duel it out as to who’s the most arrogant. Deal?”

She gritted her teeth, seeing right through his backhanded insult.

Gunn headed across the room and picked up the phone fixed on the wall. “Dead, of course.” He checked his cell, sighing. “No reception.”

She looked at her phone, to be sure there was no signal, and sighed. Nothing. The lights worked, but for how long?

She crossed the room just as Gunn passed her. But he halted inches from her, and every thought turned to mush. Their argument was a faint memory. His musky scent ravaged her, drawing her to him. Even her knees betrayed her as they shook.

Silence overwhelmed the kitchen and only her pounding pulse drummed in her ears. Fire consumed every part of her, and she squeezed her thighs together. Her brain threatened to shut down, but her body had other ideas. She and Gunn locked eyes, and fire shot through her veins. The desire to have Gunn in every possible way owned her so fast, she stumbled on her feet.

He snapped an arm around her waist and hitched her against him, their bodies colliding. She lost her breath. He ran the back of his fingers down her cheek, the metal of his ring cold against her skin. “From the first time I saw you, I’ve wanted you.”

“Shit, Gunn!” That small admission had the inferno diving south with such ferocity, she gasped, gaining herself a wink from him. It wasn’t helping in the slightest that she’d already slid her hand beneath his T-shirt, across solid abs, her fingertips finding his line of soft hair. She couldn’t stop. Her sights were set on Gunn. They wanted each other. Simple.

“You make me crazy and excited.” She ought to blush from her admission, but if she got any hotter, she’d self-combust.

Without a response, Gunn grazed her mouth with his. He grabbed her hips, his erection rock hard against her lower stomach. With his tongue deep in her mouth, she mewled, loving when he took her, towered over her. She’d never admit it out loud, but in his presence, she wanted to be his kitten.

The pressure between her legs coiled, pleasure surging through her. “Make me yours,” she begged in a whispered plea.

A grunt tore out of him as he swiveled her around, her back pressed against his chest. They both stood in the middle of the kitchen, facing the barricaded window. His hand slid down her waist, dipped across her pelvis and cupped the curve of her sex, stealing her breath.

Desperation clouded her thoughts.

“Do you know what you’re asking?” His voice strained as his fingers stroked her through her pants, fueling the growing inferno devouring her. He nibbled on her earlobe, his breath hot and heavy on her cheek.

But a sudden throat clearing from behind them froze them both in place.

Gunn tightened his arms around her. She pulled free. Within the span of a few steps, the earlier flame burning in her libido fizzled as if someone had drenched her with a bucket of icy water. She staggered to a halt and looked around her. What was going on? She turned to find Nora entering the kitchen. They didn’t react at first, and she couldn’t help but wonder how red her cheeks had turned.

“How are you feeling?” Cyra asked and crossed the kitchen toward her.

“Please pull yourselves together,” Nora said. “We’ll be in the living room when you’re ready.” She disappeared around the corner, though she wasn’t one who had the right to act snooty, considering earlier she was draping herself all over the wall.

Gunn still wore a crazed amorous look in his eyes.

She lifted her gaze to the mistletoe dangling from the ceiling directly above him.

“Hell!” Her earlier excitement drowned. Not only were they stuck in the house, but apparently, the mistletoe had magical lust-inducing magic. Because things weren’t crazy enough?

A reversal spell was a must and fast or they’d end up getting possessed because it seemed resisting Gunn was an impossibility in this house.