Familiar Stranger

by Michele Hauf

Her fingers clutched the front of his shirt, sending a rocket blast of heat across his flesh and informing his libido that it had been too long since he’d indulged in a woman.

  Right then. Don’t cock this one up, Harris.

  Jack spread a hand up the satin ribbons lacing her back, his fingers spanning her shoulder blades. With his other hand, he smoothed away the fine line of dark hairs that had got caught in the corner of her mouth.

  A kiss required that one not talk, which was a very good thing, as far as Jack was concerned. He nudged her upper lip with his own. She parted her lips and a sigh drifted across his mouth.

  Bending his knees, he brought himself to her level and pressed his head aside hers. “So this is your MO, eh? You lure the guy here on the pretense you’ve something to discuss, then, when he least expects it, you charm him with your dance moves.”

  “I’ve no moves, Jack. And if anyone is doing the charming, it’s you.”

  “Yeah? You wouldn’t be trying to seduce me, would you? To learn my secrets?”

  She gave him a shy sway of shoulders. “Is it working?”

  “It’s definitely beginning to do something to me.” Such as loosen his inhibitions and make him consider a seduction of his own. And then he remembered. He wasn’t on a date. This was a covert operation to gain access to her headquarters. “So…your place?”

  “It’s not going to happen, Jack, so give it up. You will never learn where base is.”

  “Hadn’t even thought about that. But now that you mention it, don’t you have to check in, or something?”

  “Not for dates.”

  “Right. A date.”

  “Number three, as you reminded me.”

  And if that sexy wink wasn’t a gauntlet thrown at his feet, Jack was a sodding familiar.

  “Fancy stopping by my place for a drink?”

  “There’s drinks here in the pub,” she countered.

  Did she seriously think to play the tease? No, he sensed she wasn’t aware of her own vacillations between seductress and tough-girl demon catcher.

  Jack had to smile at the many faces of Mersey Bane. And toss in a black cat to the mix?

  “I’ve got some catnip in my cupboard?” he offered. “Left over from cat-sitting a neighbor’s pet last year.”

  “Jack…” She nuzzled against him, and he felt it a move a cat would make when rubbing against a human to show affection. “You’re cruel, but I’ll give you points for trying. How far away do you live?”

  Score.

  Chapter 12

  I f he couldn’t get her to take him to base, then an indirect approach was required. She still didn’t trust him. He’d have to work on that. Though his flat was immaculate, there were still things Jack needed to check before inviting Mersey inside.

  As they topped the fourth-floor stairs, he slipped in front of her and blocked his door. “Give me a few minutes, will you? Er, need to tidy the place. Make sure I didn’t leave the private stuff lying about.”

  “Stuff, meaning guns and ammo?”

  “Cute.” He kissed her cheek quickly, regretting not planting one right on her smirking lips, then closed the door on her and dashed through his home.

  He veered toward the demon directory he’d borrowed from P-Cell archives and shoved it under the couch.

  He’d hauled the broken television down to the trash bin last night. Living room clear. Check.

  Hallway clear and one weapon stored in the cubby. Check. Loo. A towel on the floor, but no signs of life. He glanced to the ceiling, checking all corners in the dull light. Check. Bedroom? Double check. No demons. Anywhere.

  Jack exhaled and removed his jacket, flinging it over a chair as he went, and opened the door. “Such a pleasure to find a lovely bird outside my door. Come in. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “I’m good.”

  He watched Mersey survey the living room, poking her nose through the drawn shades to check the view of the Thames. Those black satin ribbons were dangerous. If he pulled one free would the whole boot slide down to her ankle?

  “Yes, you are good,” he had to agree.

  No demons tonight, he thought forcefully. No demons, no demons, no demons—

  “Jack?”

  “What?”

  “You have a crystal ball stuck in your wall.”

  Bloody thing. It stuck there like a fist of fury, reminding and warning.

  “It’s just a ball of glass. Childhood present. My mum was cleaning the old house and thought I would want it. Haven’t got around to tossing it.”

  “And yet, it appears you already have given it a good toss. Curious.”

  Mersey crossed the room. “This is the neighborhood where we stalked the demon two nights ago.”

  “Yes, it’s close,” he said. “But no demons here, promise.”

  Jack strayed a few glances up to the corners of the ceiling. No uninvited OEs. And keep it that way.

  “You know that wasn’t really me that night,” she said.

  “A twin, was it?”

  “No, I mean, that woman who kissed you, she was a bit of a surprise, even to me.”

  “So you don’t normally kiss strangers?”

  “Never! I’m…Should I say this?”

  “You’re actually pausing before jumping this time?”

  “All right, hotshot, here’s another truth for you.”

  Jack braced himself. What more was there about this bird? A silly smirk pushed its way onto her lips, as if it had won after an inner struggle against not revealing a saucy grin. “I never go home with strange men on the first date.”

  “Third. And I’m not that strange, am I?”

  “No, you’re not. But I’m feeling like it’s a one-way attraction after my confession last night.”

  “No, I’m cool with that.”

  “Honestly?”

  “Cross my heart,” he said. And did he mean it? It was much easier to warm to a familiar having kissed her already, than perhaps not having touched her at all. She was…human, so far as appearances went. Jack could accept that. “I’m sorry if I implied that you might be a monster. I don’t feel that way.”

  “Thanks. I feel like you’re being truthful with me.”

  “I am,” he breathed as he bowed over her head and nestled his nose against her hair.

  It had been a while since he’d held softness and lace and all the other fussy stuff Mersey wore. Smooth, shiny hair. Soft, perfect skin barely blushed. Teasing ribbons brushed across his thighs. All of it felt great. So distant from his reality. Her fingers tripped down the front of his shirt and began to work at the buttons.

  “You jump from sweet to saucy in a matter of blinks, Mersey.”

  “Got a problem with that?” She spread back his shirt.

  “Nope.” He shrugged the tight black shirt from his arms. Jack stopped short of flexing a muscle; instead he pushed back his shoulders, which lifted his pecs. The woman switched gears so fast he wasn’t convinced she was actually in control of the ride. Did he want to slow her down? No. Should he?

  She glided her fingers down his chest, the touch so tender it was almost painful. A wake of goose bumps emerged behind her warmth. Her fingernail bumped down the ridges forming his abs. Jack let out a moan. Sweet mercy.

  Sweet Mersey.

  No, he’d let her take the wheel for now. Business had no part in this pleasure.

  “You must work out.”

  “Hunting the big bads keeps me on my toes, and physically fit.” He drew a hand along her forearm. Though thin, her arms were taut with muscle.

  “You must be aware of the physical challenge, Miss Demon Chaser.”

  “I prefer retrievals specialist. After the chase there’s no blast.”

  “So you specialize in retrieving.”

  “Demons specifically.” She traced below his belly button. “They’re my raison d’être.”

  “Really?” Jack sucked in a breath as the delicate touch ignited all the go buttons inside him. Intent on g
iving her freedom to do as she desired, he spoke through a tight jaw, attempting to keep back an outand-out groan, “How’d you get into this kind of work? Gotta be a hell of a choice between fashion design or demon chasing. I can’t imagine that conversation with the parents.”

  “I was born into it. My mother and father were both familiars.”

  “I see.” Made sense. But he didn’t want to go there right now.

  “It’s not important, Jack. What is, is that I can feel your heart beating faster.” Her fingers spread across his chest. Green eyes glittered up at him, and she whispered wondrously, “It’s such a strong heartbeat. Like you. I like standing in your shadow. Makes me feel…”

  Protected?

  “Safe.”

  He’d take that.

  Conscious that she would soon touch the scar above his nipple, Jack pressed a hand over her fingers. For some reason the scar pulsed now, like if she touched it, she may pull back with a burn.

  “You know,” she whispered, “we’re attracted to those things and people we most need.”

  “Is that what you believe?”

  “It’s what I know. My mother taught me. We call all that we need into our lives. Sometimes we know what to do with it, sometimes it must be learned. It’s like a demon being called to a mortal. That mortal sends out the need for such a demon, without knowing, and be it lust, sadness or vengeance the demon brings with it, it is a lesson the mortal needs.”

  “I can go with that. When a man feels he has dark demons haunting his soul, it could really be true.”

  “Exactly. But let’s talk about work another time.” Her breath hushed against his scar. She couldn’t realize what that crazy warmth did to Jack’s self-control. Or maybe she did. “Kiss me, Jack.”

  Mersey slid her arms around behind his neck and her knee nudged against his hand, so he gripped her under the thighs and lifted her fey weight. She fit herself to him and he had to step backward to avoid taking a tumble. The wall caught his shoulders.

  The silk ribbons and steel grommets of her corset abraded his chest, a delicious torment to his challenged morals. Kissing Mersey was no chore, and yet part of him hung back, slightly disturbed by her almost staged eagerness.

  She kissed with purpose, not about to tease or take the leisurely route, but there was something…just not right.

  “Wait!” He set her down, and she stepped back. And his anger instantly fired. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to seduce me, so I’ll give up the goods.”

  “But, I—”

  “I’ll save you the trouble.”

  He picked her up by the hips and set her on the brown suede easy chair like a bad child who needed a time-out. The overstuffed chair consumed her and made her look like a small child.

  “I am not,” Jack enunciated clearly, “a familiar. I’m human. Got it? I hunt demons. If you choose to call me a bloody death merchant that’s your prerogative. Nothing, and I mean nothing, about me is paranormal.”

  “But there is a way—”

  “Are you listening to me?”

  Jack paced before her. His brain had finally caught up to his cock, and he wasn’t overly happy with that development. A man shouldn’t ought to be thinking when he was better off snogging.

  He passed before Mersey. She drew up her knees to her chest and looked like a frail doll on the overstuffed chair. A wicked doll who had been working her charms on him.

  And why not fall to said charms? Just shag and pat her on the head then send her on her way. That was Jack Harris’s MO. Why change it now?

  Turning from Mersey, Jack stared right at the ball stuck in the plaster wall.

  Two nights after the incident with the demon and the naked lady in the field—and that weird encounter that had followed with the black cat at his windowsill—Jack had decided the glass ball had indeed harbored magic—and that maybe his aunt Sophie really was a witch. So to test his theory, he’d wished for a fortune. Money to pay his father’s hospital bills. A curious fortune, eight-year-old Jack had dramatically chanted as he’d rubbed the glass ball. The next morning Donnell Harris had never opened his eyes. He’d died in his sleep.

  So traumatized by losing his dad, Jack had not associated his wish with his father’s death until a week later. His mum had let out a squeal, which had got Jack into the kitchen in two licks. A check had arrived by post. Donnell Harris had left his family a fortune.

  “Such a curious fortune,” Mum had whispered, for she’d not known her husband had invested in stock. He’d never once mentioned the money when they’d worried over how to pay the hospital bills. A curious fortune had arrived in the Harris household. Jack really had wished his father dead.

  And now, because of that damned ball, he attracted demons. Him, a familiar?

  “What’s the way?” Jack murmured now.

  He must confront the truth of himself. To keep his brain from seeking the darkness of his past. Darkness that swelled about him, seeking to infiltrate the last bits of light. Was there any light?

  “To know if you’re a familiar? Well—”

  “No.” He thrust up a firm hand between the two of them. “I don’t want to know.” A few paces placed him before the window. Outside, the lights draped across the Westminster Bridge cast wavery streaks of fallen starlight across the Thames.

  Did he already know the answer to Mersey’s question? Is that why he had trouble even thinking about it? Could he be…?

  Jack placed his palm over his chest. Mine. What had the demon Beryth meant when it had murmured that word to Jack after pressing its tongue into his chest while the scent of Monica had filled the air? He bowed his head and fisted his hands, summoning the courage to allow this to happen. To not only seek the truth, but to allow Mersey to see that part of him he most wished to secret away. The soft part, that little boy who still embodied him, the demon frightener who held the glass ball high and thrust it toward the monster he knew to be real. The boy who believed.

  Exhaling heavily, he released the anxiety from his lungs. “Fine.”

  He leaned over the chair Mersey sat in, fitting his hands to the arms and putting his face right before hers. Why did she have to smell so deliciously sweet?

  Because she is sweet. If a bit off-kilter. You can trust her.

  “Tell me. Go ahead. I won’t stop you. There’s a way to know if I’m a familiar?”

  She nodded. “It’s what I was trying to do just now. Kissing you.”

  He had to smile at her innocent eagerness. “You were trying to give me a tonsillectomy, love. That was some pretty urgent kissing.”

  “I’m nervous. I never act like this. It’s not me.”

  He stroked her cheek, liking the soft, pale skin. Her kohl-lined eyes spoke to him of sultry mysterious women, intent on seduction. To touch this marvelous, eccentric, gorgeous woman felt wondrous. Made him feel like that eight-year-old boy who could defeat any monster.

  “Mersey, I’m very attracted to you. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

  “Jack, you don’t understand. There is one way to determine if a human is tapped by a demon, and that is to have sex with them.”

  Chapter 13

  O h-ho? They needed to have sex to determine whether or not he was a demon’s sodding familiar? Jack hadn’t expected that one.

  “Really.” He stepped back from Mersey’s chair and swung his arms freely.

  Have sex? Now he liked that idea. Hadn’t been able to think of much else since running into this bird. “So how does that work?”

  “According to texts—”

  “Texts? What, have you been reading up in the library?”

  “Yes, the archives—”

  He narrowed a brow at her. “And where are the archives?”

  “In—” She stopped and gave him an oh-no-you-don’t look. Well, he had to try or the night would be a complete bust as far as fulfilling any orders from P-Cell.

  “None of your business, demon hunter. Now, will you pay attention? To d
etermine if you are a familiar, I need to have sex with you. Then, during climax, when I look into your eyes, I’ll see the image of your demon master reflected there.”

  “Huh.” Leaning over her again, Jack dug his fingers into the chair arms.

  “As simple as that, eh? Sex, climax, demon image?”

  Mersey beamed a hopeful smile up at him.

  This was not keen. It sounded too…clinical. Get hot. Bring the girl to climax. But wait—pause—let her peer into your eyes. See a demon. Spoil the mood.

  Not.

  “Can’t you, as a familiar, recognize another?”

  “Nope. Even if you were natural born,” she said, “I’d have to witness you shift shapes to know for sure. Sex is required.”

  Shrugging a palm over the short stubble on his scalp, Jack again paced. She was just so sanguine about it. As if suggesting they take another round on the dance floor at Monkey Chews, and what was wrong with that?

  And yet, what would it hurt to humor the poor thing? At the very least, he’d get the shagging he desired. And once he’d made love to her, and she saw nothing in his eyes, well then, she’d perhaps consider taking him home with her. To base.

  “All right, then.”

  Jack lifted Mersey up from the chair and planted a hard kiss to her mouth. Sliding one hand down to cup under her derriere, he drew her to him. She obliged by wrapping her legs around his waist.

  “Does this mean we’re going to have sex?” she wondered gleefully.

  “I haven’t decided yet.” Because part of him knew this was very wrong. Still, another part, the manly macho part, wasn’t about to resist. Just give a tug to one of those bows at the top of her thighs, yes?

  “Who says you get to decide?”

  She kissed him again. Each time they connected she grew more confident, almost demanding. She felt so good with her silky corset sliding over his bare chest and her moans tickling like cat purrs inside his brain.

  Jack kissed his way up from her wrist, along the sweet, silky inner flesh of her elbow, and to the narrow pinnacle of her shoulder. Lemons led him higher, to trace his tongue along the curve of her neck and skate the jut of her chin.

  Did he want this? He needed this. But did he want it? Or had the hunter fallen too deeply into the trap of vengeance? He wanted to kill that bastard, Beryth. Mersey was his key to again making contact with the demon.