Midnight the following evening came quickly. Darragh was received and ushered into the Shieldmaiden's house with little warmth. In fact, his reception bore quite the opposite set of emotions - from the poorly concealed disdain when she opened the door to the anger evident in the clenching of her fists as she showed him the way to the drawing-room.
"I don't think we've been properly introduced," he said, gleefully noting the way the sound of his voice caused her fingers to begin tapping a staccato rhythm against the thigh of her black jeans.
"You're Darragh Bolton, creature's pet and general asshole," she spat as they reached a large, wooden set of double doors.
He laughed. "Close enough. And you? As much as I enjoy referring to you as Shieldmaiden - Sibyl, was it?"
She threw the do
