by Lisa Kessler
He started to protest, but she went on, “I realize the risks of being near you. Of caring.” She cleared her throat. “And I’ll try not to cross that line again.”
Too bad he already wanted to cross it fifty different ways. “I’d quit this job and walk away to keep you safe if I could, but I’m your best shot at killing that Hingo demon bastard. I’m going to find him, but we’re drifting into dangerous territory.”
“How so?”
“Because this has nothing to do with money or a job I’m being paid for. I will stop him, because I care about you. And that’s dangerous.”
His eyes searched hers, and he held his breath waiting for her to respond. Her hand slid up his chest, sending electric pulses through his entire body. “I recognize the danger, but you have to stop mentioning it. The more I think about my days being numbered, the more it makes me want to make up for lost time.”
He did his best not to imagine what she was insinuating. Sadly his best wasn’t good enough. He rubbed his chin, wishing his lips were on hers again. “I think I can do that.”
…
Inside her apartment, Tegan rubbed her temples and flopped against the back of her chair. “Sorry my Gaelic is so rusty.”
Gabe didn’t even lift his head to look at her. All his attention stayed focused on the leather-bound journal and his page of notes. “Your dad read the Gaelic on my dagger. Maybe he can translate some of this for us.”
“He and Mom are leaving for Hawaii in the morning. I’m not sure how much we could find out before they go, but it’s worth a shot.” Tegan glanced at the clock. “I’ve got a class to teach in twenty minutes, though.”
“All right.” Gabe closed the book and stood up.
She frowned. “Are you going somewhere?”
He nodded and headed over to his duffel bag. “Give me a sec to put on my sweatpants, and I’ll be ready.”
“For class?” Tegan shook her head. “This is a teen class for my advanced kids. I can’t have my…friend joining in.”
“Why not?” She was defenseless against that crooked grin of his. “I’ve been around the block a few times. I’m pretty sure I can keep up.”
Tegan struggled not to smile. “I’m not going to take it easy on you.”
He raised a brow. “I would expect no less, Sensei.” He bowed, but kept his eyes on her.
Her body flushed with heat. It didn’t seem to understand that they were just working together. She crossed over to her tiny closet and pulled on her karate gi over her tank top and shorts. After a quick once-over in the mirror, she glanced at Gabe and almost swallowed her tongue.
He wore a tight tank that accentuated every hard edge of his toned torso. His sweatpants were loose, hanging low on his trim waist, tempting her to slide her fingers down that thin trail of dark hair below his navel.
Gabe caught her gawking and glanced down at his attire. “Will this work?”
Dear God, did it ever work. Tegan nodded.
She didn’t currently carry any gis in a “hot slayer” size, but if she ever hoped to reclaim her concentration, she’d better find one. Quick.
After her four teen boys and Heather, her one female phenom, arrived, Tegan introduced Gabe and tried not to notice the way the kids sized him up and then grinned at her. They knew. She glanced his way, and he answered with a subtle wink. He knew they knew.
Focus.
Tegan took a deep breath and led the class through their warm-ups, trying not to notice Gabe in the mirror. Trying. Not succeeding.
Every time they shifted positions, his reflection in the mirrored wall pulled her focus, and somewhere deep inside a small ember of pride smoldered.
He was nothing like any of the men she had ever dated. He didn’t have a high-powered job. He wasn’t going after his PhD. His body wasn’t molded by a high-priced personal trainer. Gabe fought to keep people safe from predators they didn’t even realize existed. He gave up everything to protect people he’d never met.
And last night they had sex against that back wall.
Color flushed her cheeks in the mirror. “Fifteen military push-ups. Count off.”
One of the kids groaned, but the whole class counted off the reps. By the time they finished, sweat ran down her back and her focus returned.
“Hands up. Ten roundhouse kicks. Right leg first.”
…
Gabe stayed behind the row of kids, watching Tegan take charge. This was her domain. She commanded respect and received it; her students gave her their full attention. She demonstrated the moves with them at the beginning and then walked the line, making corrections to their form.
The fighting style wasn’t completely foreign to him, and he kept up all right. The kata moves were touch and go, but he was a fast learner. He went through the motions, breathing deeply and focusing on the movements. It blossomed into an unfamiliar sense of peace. His muscles ached, sweat ran down his face, but his body was infused with power.
Tegan had that effect on him.
With the katas finished, she sent the kids to grab their gloves while she picked up a padded shield. “Do you want gloves?” she asked.
Gabe shook his head. “I’ll sit this one out.”
Her cheeks were flushed and perspiration beaded on her forehead, trickling down the edge of her hairline. Even without a trace of makeup and dripping in sweat she looked amazing. Alive and beautiful.
She lowered her padded shield. “This is my dojo. There’s no sitting out.”
The kids huddled together, watching.
He bowed to her and straightened. “I’m not going to punch and kick you.”
“You don’t think I can handle it?” She raised a brow.
He could almost hear the Lost in Space robot in his head. Danger Will Robinson.
“I’m sure you can handle it. I just don’t feel right about—”
She swept his leg out from under him, catching him off guard. He lost his balance and landed on his ass on the padded floor. Chortles came from the peanut gallery. Tegan glared in their direction, silencing them without a word.
She lifted her padded shield again, her feet in a fighting stance. “Get up and show me what you’ve got.”
He stood, raised his fists, and positioned his feet. “Tegan, please.”
She shook the target. “Punches. Now.”
Halfheartedly, he hit the pad. Right, left, right, left. “There.”
She groaned. “That’s all you’ve got?”
Calling over to her students, they got in line, landing combinations while Tegan braced herself against their onslaught. Once they finished, she focused on him again.
Seeing the fight in her eyes was a huge turn-on.
He did his best to think about baseball, dominoes, anything other than making love to her.
“Okay, Gabe. Your turn. Give me a combination.”
Oh, he had a combination he’d like to give her. Channeling his desire into his practice, he hit the pad harder, focusing on the center until he lost himself in the exertion. Right, left, spin kick. Tegan moved back, then pushed forward, forcing him to retreat a few paces.
“Nice spin kick. How about a roundhouse? Aim high.”
She raised the bag, and he kicked. Tegan backed up, lowering the pad. “Good.” She tipped her head and tossed him the bag. “My turn.”
He slid his forearm through the loop in the back of the pad, bracing himself. “Bring it on.”
The look in her eyes sent blood rushing to his groin, making him grateful for the huge shield. His sweatpants were no match for the raging hard-on that was brewing. Tegan landed a flurry of punches, surprising him with their power. Spinning, she nailed the bag with a double side kick, first to the crotch, followed by another deadly kick to the head.
He moved back a step, and she treated him to a jumping scissor kick that made him want to applaud. When she finally stopped her assault, Tegan gave him a slight bow, her eyes locked on his from beneath her lashes.
Never in his life
had he wanted anyone so much.
Applause broke out behind her, reminding him of the group of teens across the room. Gabe lowered the shield, keeping it strategically in front of his sweats. Tegan smiled and turned around, bowing to the class before leading them in a final kata to cool down.
It was going to take an ice-cold shower to douse the fire burning inside him.
Or the scent of a demon.
He frowned and took a deep breath.
Class was over.
Now.
Chapter Eleven
Tegan saw Gabe’s expression change, and a jolt of adrenaline coursed through her. Something was wrong. They needed to keep the kids safe.
The doorknob to the dojo jiggled. But it was only Carmen, the car-pool mom. She stepped in the door, and Gabe flinched.
Tegan breathed a sigh of relief. “Hey, Carmen. Everyone did a great job today.”
“Here’s the money for Heather and Carlos.” She started to dig in her purse. “I’ve got the other two checks in here someplace.”
“You can pay me next week.” Tegan herded the kids toward the door.
“Are you sure?” Carmen had been one of the first people to encourage Tegan to open her own dojo. Over the past couple of years, she’d also become the closest thing to a friend Tegan had since the attack.
“Yeah. We’ll square up next time. I’m not worried.”
Carmen’s gaze flicked to Gabe in his tight tank, now wet and plastered to his lean, chiseled body. Her grin widened as she glanced back at Tegan. “Ohhh. Great. Next time then.”
Tegan forced a smile and walked her to the door. “See you Thursday.”
Carmen nodded, clicking the button on her keys. The doors to her minivan rolled open, and the kids piled in.
She leaned in close to Tegan. “Good to see you getting out there again. It’s about time.”
“It’s not what you think.”
Carmen winked with a grin. “Bye!”
When her van left the parking lot, Tegan noticed a man standing across the street as Gabe came up behind her.
“Sorry about th—” His words died away. He must’ve seen the guy, too. “Go back inside, and lock the door.”
He walked toward his car, and Tegan followed. “I’m staying right here. You might as well tell me how we kill it.”
Gabe opened the trunk and shot her a look. “I can handle it.”
She placed her hand over his. “If you tell me how, I can help, and I’m going to anyway, so you might as well save a step, right?”
He opened his mouth to argue when the man started to jog toward them. “He’s on the move.”
Gabe handed her a container of salt and drew a spiked flail from his mobile armory. Tegan frowned. “You are not going to tell me to circle myself with this and stay inside my salt force field.”
He shook his head, taking a step toward his opponent. “That only works against a magic attack. This is most likely a Drog demon. They’re allergic to salt.”
“Most likely?” She clutched the salt.
“Won’t be able to tell for sure until he drops his human disguise.” He glanced back at her. “Smells like a Drog.”
The man circled them. “Gabriel.” His voice had a gurgle to it, like he spoke through a huge ball of phlegm. Tegan fought the sudden urge to clear her throat. “There is a bounty on your head.”
“When isn’t there?” Gabe countered the demon’s move. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
The demon tipped his head from side to side, twisting it too far. Tiny cracks exposed scales under his human skin. Yellow goo trickled down his neck, soaking into the T-shirt he wore.
“So gross,” Tegan huffed under her breath.
The demon twisted his gaze to her, his pupils expanding and retracting into catlike slits. He smiled, and cracks along the corners of his mouth oozed. “The dragon is coming, slayer. She holds the key.”
“No such thing as dragons,” Gabe said.
Tegan moved to her left, trying to circle around while the demon was busy with Gabe.
“The dragon is a demon, Slayer. She’s his key to freedom. The master will reward me for bringing her back alive.”
“Who is your master?”
The demon turned, looking for Tegan. “The one who tasted her flesh.”
“Enough talking.” Gabe lunged forward, swinging the flail over his head, spinning it until the spiked ball embedded in the creature’s skull.
The demon screeched. Pieces of his human flesh broke off when Gabe yanked the spikes free, gore peppering her parking lot. Under the creature’s pale skin, she could see black scales covered in yellow blood. At least she thought it was blood.
Gabe swung the flail again, and Tegan poured salt into her hand. “Tell me how we kill it.”
“Remember how the Viri could regenerate heads?” Gabe dodged a swipe of the demon’s beefy arm. “Drogs can grow back all their body parts, like lizards, but the parts come back bigger each time.”
No wonder he was tenderizing it instead. No chance of accidental dismemberment.
He landed another hit. “Only the heart can’t regenerate. But we have to get it out first.”
Her eyes widened. “We have to cut out his heart?”
The demon jerked the flail out of Gabe’s hands. He stumbled backward, grabbing a club from the open trunk. “It’s easier if we can knock him out first.”
He raised the bat as the demon answered with the swipe of a hand that now had long, nasty claws. Blood stained Gabe’s side. Red human blood.
Tegan drew the demon’s attention with her gasp. When it advanced on her, she held her ground, praying the salt would work. The demon reached for her, and she threw the handful of it into the creature’s eyes.
Smoke billowed from the demon’s face as though she’d showered him in acid instead of table salt. His eyes melted from their sockets, and for a moment, revulsion and horror threatened to paralyze her.
“Tegan, move!”
Gabe’s voice broke the spell. She dodged the blinded creature and landed a roundhouse kick to his back that sent him sprawling across the pavement. His hands kept reaching out, searching for her. Gabe brought the spiked club down on the demon’s skull with a hollow crack, and the body collapsed onto the parking lot.
…
Gabe left his weapon in the creature’s head and rushed over to Tegan’s side, checking for any wounds. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Her gaze went to his side. “You’re still bleeding.”
“I’ll be all right.” Satisfied she wasn’t hurt, he turned back to the unconscious demon. “I need to finish him while he’s out.”
He yanked the club free and went to the trunk for a dagger. When he came back, he knelt beside Tegan. “Can you stash the salt in the Mustang and grab the silver canister?”
Part of him expected her to fight and refuse his request, but she nodded and got up. He was grateful. Drog demons were nasty. Ripping out this heart wasn’t going to be pretty.
He stabbed the dagger deep into the demon’s armored skin and made a crescent-shaped cut. Reaching through the opening, he grasped the heart. The demon’s blood burned, but he shut out the pain and pulled.
Tegan returned just as he slid the black heart from the demon’s chest. “Damn, he reeks.”
“Drogs are messy.” Gabe tossed the organ aside and sat back on his heels. He took the canister from her.
Tegan moved back a couple of steps, surveying her tiny parking lot. “What a disaster.”
Gabe stood up, opening the canister. The ocean breeze pulled wisps of Tegan’s dark hair free from her ponytail, framing her face. For a second, he forgot about demons. He wanted to do nothing but memorize every curve of her face.
Her cheeks started to color, and her lips curved at the corners as she reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “What? I don’t have demon goo on my face, do I?”
He shook his head, resisting the urge to touch her since the demon blood sti
ll burned his hands. “You’re beautiful.”
She rolled her eyes, laughing. “Don’t tease me.”
“Not teasing.” He gripped the canister tighter. If he didn’t have demon parts all over him, nothing could’ve stopped him from kissing her.
Turning back to the job at hand, he started drizzling the dust over the demon remains. As the body dried and turned to ash, Tegan’s eyes widened. “Wow. Why didn’t we just throw this on him first thing?”
Gabe chuckled. “The necro powder is magic-infused, and it only works on dead, soulless flesh. If the body still has life inside, the necro powder is powerless.”
“Always a catch.” She stood beside him, watching as the powder worked like acid on the demon’s body, sending it back to hell.
After the necro powder finished with the Drog remains, Gabe screwed the lid on and walked it back to the trunk. Fatigue weighed him down. He opened and closed his hands, the sting of the demon blood keeping him alert.
“You need a shower.” Tegan’s hand rubbed his back. Her touch seemed natural, genuine, pulling him back from the edge of hell he faced all too often.
…
While Gabe showered, Tegan sat at the table, scribbling down notes about necro powder, Drog demons that regenerate limbs, Viri demons with snake heads, and everything she could remember Gabe telling her during her trial-by-fire demon-slaying training. Now that he had grudgingly seemed to accept her assistance, she needed to carry her weight of the partnership.
It was obvious Gabe still wanted to protect her, but if the occasion ever arose that she needed to cover him, she wasn’t going to make a mistake. She hoped.
She got up and slipped out of her karate gi. Cool sea air brushed over her skin, sending a chill down her spine. Her tank top and bike shorts were still damp with sweat, but it felt great to be free of the bulky karate uniform.
The leather-bound journal taunted her from the table. All she’d deciphered so far was a long list of Welsh families dating back for centuries. There was also mention of dragon’s blood, but what that meant was anyone’s guess.
