She nodded quickly. “Yes. Sheila explained she could no longer work the later hours that she has in the past. That was why I was hired.”
“Good,” he said, motioning her forward with an uplifted folder. “We try to take care of our employees."
Kresley blinked at the unexpected statement. What Demon worried about taking care of people? A thought quickly lost as she became aware of Cullen’s watchful gaze. She shook herself and rushed forward to accept the file, aware of his lingering gaze, of the hint of male appreciation in his stare. Discomfort overcame her, as it did with all male attention; her inability to control her firestarting had made relationships impossible, so her experience in that arena was limited. Lucan was the only man she remembered feeling instantly comfortable with. She reached for the file, refusing to look down at it or the ring on his hand. “I’ll get right on this.”
But he maintained his hold on the file, didn’t release it into her hand, his eyes pinning hers in a stare. He was an attractive man, tall and broad, dark and dangerous. Kresley knew she should be encouraging any interest he might have in her, trying to get close to him, to get the ring. Instead, she wanted distance, feared the worst, that he could see right through her façade of working for him, that he knew she was after more. Silence ticked onward, the air thick and hard to inhale, as he inspected her. She didn’t dare look away, barely dared to blink. He studied her, scrutinized her. This wasn’t about attraction; it was about trust. He wanted to know if he could trust her.
“Where are you from, Kresley?” he finally said, seeking an answer he couldn’t seem to find within the silence.
She’d practiced her story, knew how to answer any questions. “Texas,” she said, worried despite her preparation, worried that he was suspicious of her, that she was putting off guilty vibes.
His eyes narrowed. “You’re a long way from home.”
More suspicion, as she'd feared. “Home is relative,” she commented evasively, not sure if she should risk a misstep and say more.
A barely perceivable nod followed. “Perhaps,” he agreed. “But few people travel as far as you without something pulling them, some sort of fire in their blood that drives them to act.”
She didn’t blink. Didn’t show the absolute panic in her mind and body. Her heart raced, stomach twisted. Did he know? Did he know she was a firestarter?
“What’s the point in starting over if you stay on your own front porch?” she challenged, the words barely out before the hair on the back of her neck tingled, stood on end. Kresley had to fight the urge to turn toward the door.
“Cullen.” A male voice sounded from behind.
The file was released into her hand, and Kresley quickly backed away from the desk and to the side, giving the visitor a full view of Cullen.
Nick Nepal, Cullen’s Head of Security consumed the doorway, his broad shoulders brushing the frame, his presence explaining her rush of edginess – Nick absolutely gave her the creeps. He was evil, pure evil. His hair was long, pulled back at the neck; his suit, a bit rumbled. He reminded her of a street fighter. The fact that she didn’t get that same vibe from Cullen, and all the wolves in the building, was a bit confounding. Why not? Weren’t they all evil?
“Those tapes you want to review are ready,” Nick commented, speaking to Cullen, a moment before the heaviness of his gaze swept Kresley with a mixture of lust and contempt.
“I’ll go get to work,” she said quickly and started for the door, realizing with her retreat that she had a big problem. She was never going to get close enough to Cullen to get that ring, not while they were inside this building. She had to lure him away from his office, attack at a time when he was weak.
But as she sat down behind her desk, sickness settled in her gut. What if Cullen wasn’t evil? What if Adrian was using her to destroy someone who was good? Was that even possible? Could Demons be good? Part of her didn’t want to know if they were. Then what? Then how would she save Lucan? She set the folder down–realizing it was clutched to her chest–and flattened her palms on the desk. She was not going to jump to conclusions.
The door to Cullen’s office opened, and Nick charged out of the door and stopped in front of her desk. He glared down at her – but said nothing.
A second later, Cullen appeared. “I have to step away for a while. The financial data for sections 2, 5, and 9 should be on the fax on my credenza within the hour. Plug those in and print off 12 copies of the reports. Don’t wait for me if you finish before I return.”
“No problem,” she said, thinking she was going to be so busy being his assistant, she was never going to figure out what to do next. "Consider it done.”
Nick cast her one last glare and headed toward the elevator. Cullen started to follow and hesitated. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out some bills and tossed them on the desk. “Order some food.”
“Oh,” she said. “Yes. Any preferences?”
“For you,” he said, already turning away, only a few strides from stepping onto the elevator with Nick.
She swallowed hard and picked up the money. So what if he was a nice boss, right? He could still be an evil, murderous Demon. She really needed him to be an evil, murderous Demon. Because if he wasn’t, if there was more to all of this than met the eye, then her deal to free Lucan might not be a deal at all. And she refused to believe that. She ground her teeth. He was a Demon. One who’d spent centuries tricking innocent humans into believing he wasn’t. That was the truth. It had to be. So why couldn’t she shake the sick feeling growing in her stomach?
***
Almost nine o'clock, three hours after Cullen had left her to deal with the report, and there was no sign of his return. Thirty minutes earlier, Sheila had left, letting Kresley finish up the project for Cullen. Now, with the work completed, Kresley set the stack of folders in his chair.
And finally, Kresley had a chance to look around Cullen’s office, but the late hour brought risk – more likelihood of Cullen’s return. Though he’d called and said he’d be at least another hour, there was no way to be certain. The temptation to go through his desk was driving her insane, and she’d already done a bit of casual snooping. But now, now she had to do more. Which was why she’d shut the door when she’d entered the office – she had to find answers, had to risk being caught.
With a deep breath, she started reviewing paperwork on his desk. Mergers. Notes about financial reports. Nothing out of the ordinary. She eyed the door in the corner behind his desk. A closet? A quick glance at the office exit, securely closed, provided little peace of mind. But she couldn't let this door stand in the way of her objectives. She'd come too far –immersed herself in the world of dark magic, done things she never would have done before.
Kresley quickly darted to the closed closet door and turned the knob, not surprised to find it locked. Her hands went to her hips–thinking. She remembered a key in the top desk drawer. She rushed to retrieve it, and raced back to the door. Bingo! It worked. Obstacle removed. Door opened.
Flipping on the light, she found herself in a ten-by-ten library with rows and rows of hardback books lining mahogany shelves. She scanned the shelves, certain there were secrets here. Why else lock the door? Why else hide this place?
Her fingers traced the spines of the books, her mind silently ticking off titles of books, noting those that seemed to indicate a study of humanity– history, archaeology, medicine, law, Bible. Bible? She took a step backwards and read again. Yes. A Bible. No …three Bibles – three versions. Her brows dipped. Was he studying the enemy?
She touched the black leather binding of the King James Bible, about to remove it, when the writing on a deep-red leather-bound book beside it caught her attention. What language was that? Or was it a language at all? Some sort of magical markings, maybe?
Interest piqued, the flutter in her stomach telling her she was onto something, Kresley removed the book, opened the cover, touched the razor-thin, yellowed pages that showed age. More writing in anot
her language. She turned it over in her hand, frowned as she touched the engraved symbol on the back of the book – this one familiar – The Star of David, the son of King Solomon.
Her mind flashed to memories of the library at Jaguar Ranch, to some of the writings of King Solomon she’d read there. Her frown deepened. Solomon was important to the Knights; he was the protector of humanity who'd turned against God–the protector who Jag was to replace.
Something was wrong here, but there wasn’t time to analyze what. She firmed her hold on the book and started for the door, determined to take it with her; she'd decide later if she dared call Jag.
She managed one step forward before she paused; the tingling sensation of warning had started again. The hair on the back of her neck lifted, her chest tightened, adrenaline rushed through her veins, because she knew someone had found her, and she even knew who. She could sense his evil, his malice.
Sure enough, Nick appeared in the doorway, leaned on the frame. “Making yourself right at home, I see.” He stepped forward, his big body crowding hers, shrinking the already small space.
Kresley bit back the denial on her tongue, forced herself to silently count to ten before responding, to process and think. “No cable yet. I thought I’d hang out and read a little.”
He laughed, disbelieving, hovering in the doorway, blocking her exit. “So you unlocked the door and came right in?”
“Locked?” she asked, playing naive–a dangerous game, and she knew it. Her mind calculated the distance to shoot fire at his feet, but warned herself of the repercussions. Once she acted, she was stuck with the consequences of her actions. Talking her way out of this was the only acceptable option and offered a slight chance of saving her job. “It wasn’t locked."
Suddenly, he was in front of her, his hand removing the book from hers, his big body crowding hers. His nostrils flared, and she knew he smelled her fear, perhaps her lie. “It was locked. We both know it was locked.”
She didn’t dare lie again. “I love history,” she said, and it was the truth. Not relevant to the situation, but nonetheless, the truth. He was close. Too close. Kresley stepped backward, hitting a shelf. “Can I leave?”
His lips twitched; his gaze slid down her body. “Maybe you should,” he murmured. “Before I lock the door again with you inside.” Her breath lodged in her throat because she had the distinct impression he meant lock her up, with him inside with her.
She sidestepped and shot toward the door, her stomach queasy as her arm brushed his. Back in Cullen’s office, she didn’t hesitate, grabbing her purse and taking off for the elevator. She punched the button, waiting impatiently for it to come, and considered the stairs. The steel doors finally opened and she stepped inside, facing forward; the tingling on the back of her neck eased a bit. She didn’t see him, but he was there. She knew he was there, somewhere – watching.
The doors closed and she had a mere thirty-eight-floor ride down to decide what to do next, a ride that might have seemed long another time – but not now, now it seemed short. Would she be allowed to leave? If they tried to stop her, should she attack with her fire? Should she play it coy and talk her way out of things? She had to try. Yes. Had to. Losing this job was losing her chance to be near Cullen and that ring. Surely Nick wouldn’t have let her leave the office, if he intended to stop her from exiting the building. But he could have second thoughts, if not tonight, later. Assuming she got out of here without resistance, did she dare gamble and return tomorrow?
She had decisions to make, choices that could impact Lucan. She pressed her hand to her chest, inhaling as the elevator chimed past each floor, one by one. Think about the security officer at the elevator, think about what to do if he stops you. Anytime she used her fire, she risked hurting innocent people, risked a fire that could spread. Could she defeat him without giving away her firestarting? She was operating on zero information, that was the problem; she knew nothing of the Werewolves. Not their strengths, their weaknesses. If she was to return, to survive this, she needed more information than Adrian would give her, information that served her purposes not his.
The elevator opened. With a frown, she noted the empty security desk. To free her hands for a possible confrontation– though hindered by the high heels, skirt and no weapon –Kresley slid her wallet-sized purse over her head, across her neck. Then she stepped out into the dimly lit lobby and started walking; the tiled floor beneath her heels echoed with the impact, the sound spiraling upward, lifting into the open foyer that reached to all thirty-eight floors.
Kresley shivered against the haunting feeling of being watched. She turned back and noted the security desk remained unattended, still worried that someone would stop her. You have your fire, she reminded herself, hastening her pace. You always have your fire. Two steps, three, she pushed open the exit door, the cool night air a welcome sign of freedom. Several steps forward without anyone impeding her progress, and she told herself she was fine. No battle, no fight.
But she knew she was lucky, knew she had to arm herself with information about the wolves; she could no longer fly blindly. Some kind of leverage over Cullen might even deliver the ring without a battle, without waiting for a chance to get him alone and unguarded. Without the risk of hurting innocents. Yes, knowledge was what she needed. Because what she was doing now clearly was not working. And that knowledge had to be found soon.
She quickly summarized her options in her mind. Going to the Knights was out. She couldn’t risk their interference, risk having them insist that she leave Lucan to the Underworld. That left only one alternative, one source– the world of the dark arts, the underground circle she’d discovered that existed in every city around the world.
"The Dark Circle"–as many called it– was a world in which she was becoming almost too comfortable; but then, this would be her life from now on – this would be her world. Why fight it? This was about saving Lucan, not denying the truth about herself to feel better, even for the tiny bit of time she might have left among humans.
She took a sharp left, cut across the street; she knew her destination. In each sector of the Dark Circle, there were "Ladies of the Veil," Seers who lgedthe secrets hidden within the shadows. It was said that these women could touch your soul, judge it righteous, judge it poisonous.
Kresley hated these types of sorcerers, didn’t want to know what they saw within her, preferred to hide behind her youth and the façade of innocence. Or at least she had. That time had passed. She knew what she was and where her future lay. She was done hiding from it.
Determination in her steps, Kresley covered blocks, turned into a side alley leading to a set of underground clubs she knew would guide her to the Seer. Yet she hadn't gone far down that dark path before she knew her bravado was misplaced. She felt the tingling, the tension. She was being followed.
Chapter Four
Cullen did more than keep his enemies close; he studied them, learned their history, learned their habits. The Firestarter had wanted inside his life, daring to show up to interview for a job, and he’d welcomed her, eager to keep her near, where he could watch her, get to know her.
Only minutes after Kresley had fled the building, Cullen took to the stairs, with several floors separating him and his office, him and the opportunity to throttle his Head of Security. Damn it, he’d set Kresley up, left her alone so he could find out what she was after, and why she hadn’t gone for the ring yet. And she'd wanted the ring, he knew this. He’d seen her discomfort when she'd looked at it; he knew she knew what it was, what it was capable of doing. He'd also sensed she was without malice, an innocent being used as a pawn. Which meant she could be persuaded to become an ally not an enemy.
He lengthened his stride, took two stairs at once, cursed again.
He hoped like hell she showed up for work again the next day. After days of his security team following Kresley, there was no obvious link to a conspirator, no proof of a connection to the Hunter. So he still had nothing that would hel
p him turn her, to shift her allegiance to him.
Cullen shoved the stairwell door open, and charged toward his office, knowing full well Nick was still there–a little too comfortable lingering in his office as far as Cullen was concerned. Sure enough, he walked into his office to find his Head of Security talking on the phone, his telephone, behind his desk.
Unbidden, a territorial blade ripped through him, and Cullen crossed to his desk, reclaiming what was his. Not questioning why he felt such a thing. Centuries of living, of conquering his enemies, had taught him to trust his instincts, and Nick needed to be put in his place. And despite Nick’s centuries of service, something had changed, shifted, set off warnings. Exactly why Cullen hadn’t involved Nick in his plan this night.
Nick glanced up as Cullen approached, apprehension spiking in the air as he saw the turbulent look on Cullen’s face. Nick quickly ended the call and removed himself from behind the desk. Cullen wasted no time; he stepped behind the wooden frame, claiming what was his.
Nick’s hands went to his hips. "I just found our little firestarter nosing around your office.” He motioned to the corner. “In your library.” Reaching in his pocket, he removed a key and tossed it on the desk. “We should have dealt with her fast and decisively as I said, rather than played these games with her, hiring her as if we don’t know who she is or that she's out to do us harm.”
Cullen's brows lifted. "I wasn’t aware she’d taken any action against us.”
“What do you call tonight?”
Beast of Fire -- a Demon Hunting Sexy Romance Page 4
