"I like knowing where you are. It prevents me from playing stalker," he jokes.

"How did you really find out my real name?" I ask playfully.

He smirks a little, and kisses the back of my hand.

"I might have sent Ther to follow you home and do some recon," he says with a wince.

"Ah. So I was correct when I accused you of such stalkery," I tease.

His devilish grin is enough to singe my skin, and I can smell the clothes on my body scorching under his smoldering stare. He doesn't need Aphrodite's stare to possess me. His Devin Cole stare is enough to heat the arctic and turn it into a desert within minutes.

I take a deep breath and force myself to disengage from the temptation.

"When does your meeting start?" I ask in a pleading effort to distract him.

"Five minutes ago," he reports with his devilish smirk growing.

I roll my eyes and start pulling him to the elevator.

"Go. Now. Before I burn both of our clothes off. I want my real date," I playfully tease.

His eyes dance with their tempting dare, but I refuse to fall prey. He laughs a little as he reluctantly steps into the elevator. He huffs and adjusts his tie as he exaggerates a pout, and I cover my smile as the elevator doors close. I can hear him speaking softly on his way down.

"I'll pick you up at six."

Got to love super-hearing.

"I'll be waiting," I say with a giggle.

A date. A real date.

I rush over to the mystery box still perched on the kitchen counter, and I begin ripping into it without any regard for the beautiful wrapping. I gasp as I pull out the elegantly sexy ensemble it had concealed.

It's four o' clock already. Crap. Why did he let me sleep so late?

I stare at myself in the mirror, and I almost don't recognize the girl wearing the one-of-a-kind blue, diamond-studded gown that stretches to my toes with its elegant shimmer.

My right shoulder is bare, and a one-inch strap laps over my left. The back dips low, and I feel the wind stirring as my nervousness grows.

My long, bronze-kissed locks drape past my shoulders in carefully placed large, loose curls. I'm wearing just the right amount of makeup, and I feel like a goddess. This dress was meant to be worn by someone far more impressive than I.

I hear the doors of the elevator swishing open, and I giggle a little. He's ten minutes early.

I rush into the room, but I can sense instantly that it's not him. The smell of strong liquor and cheap aftershave pollute the air. The tainted hindrance of cigarette smoke seeps through the apartment, and now I'm scared.

"Hey, Dev. Where the blazes are you?" a stranger's Scottish accent pronounces.

I sigh out in relief when I realize this is a friendly tone, even though I don't know the man it belongs to. I walk out to the living area, and the man's jaw drops the moment his eyes connect with my gorgeous dress.

"Bloody hell. I think I lucked up and punched in the wrong damn code. I'll be damned."

I laugh a little at his dumbfounded and mesmerized comment.

"Devin will be here in just a few minutes," I murmur.

His jet black hair shags around his face, and his black leather jacket is tattered from years of wear. He's built and attractive with the bad boy persona that would have made me swoon a couple of weeks ago.

His eyes begin stirring with dark swirls, and a look of possession fills them. I've seen that look before. Shit! My eyes!

I jerk them to stare at the ground quickly.

"Sorry. I forgot."

But I'm startled from my downward gaze as lips cover mine, claiming my mouth as his. I'm not far from getting drunk off this man's breath. Gross.

I struggle against him as he pins me against the wall. My squeals are muffled as his mouth continues to trap mine. I feel my hands heating up in a different way, and electricity surges through them.

My possessed attacker flies across the room with smoke billowing from his burned-through jacket and shirt - holes courtesy of my electrically charged hands.

"You have to snap out of it. Please stop," I beg.

Suddenly the guy leaps to his feet, and he charges me again with an undeniable determination to make me his. I wince, but then he's derailed in his efforts as a punch comes in from the side, and he slams against the wall.

Crumbs fall from the sheetrock as a crack climbs up to prove this apartment wasn't made for immortals to fight in.

Devin's here. Oh thank goodness.

My strong Poseidon pulls me into his arms and kisses the top of my head. The Scottish man's eyes clear from their pollution, and he shakes his head before rubbing his jaw that is now aching from Devin's right jab.

"You could have damned warned me you had an Aphrodite here. I would've worn some shades. I thought they were extinct," the man says while laughing.

"I thought your flight was coming in tomorrow," Devin mutters with an air of indifference as he inspects me.

"I got an early flight. You made it sound important. Why'd you hit me so bloody hard?" he groans as he continues rubbing his jaw. "And where'd you come from?"

Devin smirks as he stares me up and down with a look of astonishment when he finally takes a minute to appreciate my attempt to be striking.

"I took the fire escape when I heard Adisia warning you off," he murmurs distractedly, and then he turns his attention to focus solely on me. "You look stunning. Wow. I'm considering kicking Deacon's ass for spoiling the big reveal," Devin gushes.

"Hey. She gave me the stare. I didn't stand a chance," Deacon reports with a defensive tone.

Devin rolls his eyes.

"She's new to her powers. Her mother assures me it will soon be under her control and not falling from her eyes without consent."

Deacon's eyes light up. "There's another? Incredible. How in the hell did I just land in heaven? Where is she?"

"She's unavailable. She went to run down some leads on the guys attacking us in repetitive sweeps. That's why you're here," Devin mumbles.

"You invite me up, and then punch me. I'm not so sure I like the hospitality around here anymore," Deacon murmurs with a mock pout.

Devin laughs. "I had to snap you out of it."

"Well she didn't need any help with that," Deacon gripes as he points to his scorched shirt. "She's quite the firecracker."

Devin smirks as he stares at me with such an enamored gaze.

"She's more like TNT. She just held back because she knew what was going on. Trey had the same reaction when he saw her."

Deacon shows his surprise. "So Trey got to taste those luscious, deliciously intoxicating lips as well? Lucky bastard."

Uh-oh. Devin's eyes swirl with fury, and now I'm worried this friendly conversation is pretty, well... fucked.

"You fucking kissed her?" Devin blares as he flashes to Deacon and throws him against the wall.

"Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Not my fault. Aphrodite's stare, remember?" Deacon panics, his hands raised like a man pleading his innocence.

Devin drops him to the floor reluctantly with a look of disgust and walks over to the bar to pick up his mound of mail. He cracks his neck as he uses the heaps of envelopes to distract himself from tearing into Deacon. I try to shift the tense subject.

"Greer dropped off your mail earlier. It looks like you've been gone for months."

He laughs slightly. "Just a few days, but it piles up quickly."

He continues to sift through the numerous pieces, and I walk over to Deacon.

"Sorry. I promise I'm trying to control it," I mumble while avoiding eye contact.

"It's fine. Devin's been wanting to do that for years," he says with a menacing undertone.

I turn to see a smirk spreading on Devin's face as he rips open an envelope to read its contents.

"Why?" I ask curiously.

"Well, long story short, I was supposed to cover for him with Gemma while he made off with the hot piano player from a bar we were at, but instead, when Gemma came looking for him, I told her he wasn't there. That lass was pissed, and Dev-"

Deacon shuts up when Devin clears his throat as an obnoxious warning, and Deacon's eyes grow wide as if he now realizes what's going on.

"Oh. You two are together? I mean, really together? I thought she was one of your drive-bys."

"Drive-bys?" I growl in distaste.

Devin is staring at his mail now to avoid the scrutiny glaring from my eyes. I can see him stifling a smirk as he responds so casually.

"I told you I have a past. Nothing for you to fret about now. Deacon just doesn't know when to shut the hell up," Devin murmurs as his tone ends in more of a threatening one.

"Sorry. It's a bit of an adjustment. I need a beer to help me think better," Deacon chirps.

"Who's Gemma?" I interject.

Devin tenses at the mention of her name sliding from my lips. Did he love Gemma? Is she a fuck buddy? Is she an ex-girlfriend?

Deacon flicks his thumb slightly against the cap of the beer bottle, and it shoots into the sink. He takes a swig of the western brew before answering the question Devin refuses to.

"She's an old flame of Devin's," he says so naturally, as if I'm not supposed to even acknowledge the words that were said.

"More like a nasty entanglement," Devin adds with a loathsome distaste ringing out.

"Please define that term for a lay person such as me," I mouth off sardonically, my irritation showing through with more clarity.

He squirms uncomfortably before sighing in defeat.

"She was very... persistent in her endeavors to be with me. I didn't share the same enthusiasm, but I made a few mistakes that only strung her along longer," he says vaguely.

"Persistent? That bloody girl stalked him for two centuries or more," Deacon adds with a chuckle.

Two centuries? Or more? Seriously?

Devin's eyes narrow at the paper, and I hear a gurgling sound coming from the beer bottle just before it explodes against Deacon's face.

Devin's smug, triumphant smirk almost brings a giggle out of me, but I'm still too pissed about this mysterious Gemma portion of his past. Why is he so determined to keep his past a mystery?

Deacon wipes his beer-drenched face and growls under his breath, "Mature. Real mature."

Devin lets a faint grin cock up on the edge of one side of his mouth again. I cross my arms in a huffy manner as I contemplate berating him, and instead, decide to go with an ominous, one-line slice.

"So you were a playboy?"

Devin's cocked grin disappears, and his eyes finally look up to catch my scolding ones.

"Playboy? Hell. He makes Hugh Hefner look like the Pope," Deacon chuckles out, and Devin's eyes twist in glaring offense.

"My bad. Sorry. I'm still adjusting to your being in a... what are you in? Is this a serious committed relationship or what?" Deacon asks curiously.

I'm curious as well. What are we? He told me to pick a term, but I have no idea what that means. My eyes narrow as I stare expectantly; waiting on Devin to answer the question I've been dying to know the answer to.

"Yes. Very committed," he asserts without hesitation.

His eyes stay fixated on mine, and I can feel the anger slowly rolling off of me as Aphrodite's lust becomes stronger and more pronounced.

"Wow. Devin Cole in a real relationship. I feel as though I skipped a century somehow," Deacon chuckles.

"What are you?" I inquire bluntly, my question pointed toward Deacon.

He smirks, and Devin rolls his eyes.

"Isn't it obvious?" Devin scoffs.

"No. I'm still new to all of this," I say while shrugging.