Deliver Me from Temptation

by Tes Hilaire

  She nervously licked her lips, falling back on a self-depreciating laugh. “Look, things are a bit crazy right now, but I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

  “All right.” His voice said he didn’t believe her. Smart man. She expected him to leave in a huff, or possibly argue his case, but all he did was gently set the rose down on the console table. She ducked her head, going with avoidance techniques 101. She’d have coffee with him soon. When she was rested and had some wits about her and could break things off in a more mature fashion. But then his hands were on her shoulders and he was pressing a kiss that burned for all its chasteness against her forehead. Her breath hitched as a singe of heat rippled across her skin and she jerked her head up, staring into his eyes. What was that? A good-bye?

  She couldn’t tell. His eyes had always been unreadable to her. She might’ve asked but he laid his finger over her lips, effectively hushing her.

  “Take care, Jess.” And then he took himself out of the apartment.

  Jessica closed the door behind him, flicking the deadbolt and door guard. Afterward she stood, head pressed against the solid wood, berating herself.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. Nice guy, understood what it meant to be a cop. And all she seemed determined to do was fuck it up.

  ***

  Logan unfolded his legs and slid out of the cramped cab. Tossing some bills at the twitchy driver, he didn’t even complete his sentence to “keep the change” before the guy’s foot slammed down on the accelerator and he sped off. Understandable. This wasn’t the best part of town, and in his surly mood Logan hadn’t been the most pleasant passenger.

  Logan struck out down the street, his anger propelling him forward. Last night had been filled with fuck-ups and a good portion lay on the shoulders of his “buddy” who was probably already back at Haven, warming his feet before one of the many fires. To think Logan had been genuinely worried about Valin for a while there, but as Logan had walked down the streets, searching for the car that matched the keys in the woman’s jeans pocket, the Black Knight had finally put in an appearance. Coalescing out of the shadows, and clothed in nothing but his birthday suit, Valin had curled his lip at the unconscious human in Logan’s arms and then turned his attention to the injured Alex and whistled. As if the warrior’s condition hadn’t been more than half Valin’s fault.

  Alex, besides some injured pride, had a cracked rib. A friggin’ cracked rib! No pint-sized succubus should’ve been able to do that. They might possess some enhanced speed and increased stamina on top of their ability to seduce even a cranky, seventy-year-old priest, but mountain-man strength was not one of their powers.

  Logan found himself before the security gate to Haven, not having really registered the passage of time or distance. With a quick look over his shoulder, he typed the code into the panel by the gate. It swung open. He braced himself for the power of the invasive magic as he passed through; accepting the almost painful sting to his senses as the magical cross housed in Haven’s sacred hall tested and registered him as being of Paladin blood before pulling him to its plane of existence. It was an effective system, one that allowed the Paladin to hide in plain sight. While anyone with a code could make it through the chain-link gate, they would not end up in the same place as Logan or his brothers. To anyone but one of His chosen, the place would merely appear to be a three-acre lot filled with graffiti-ridden storage containers and one abandoned warehouse. No one would ever realize that a slight shift in reality away stood the sanctuary for God’s warriors.

  Ignoring the shiver of awe that he felt each time he crossed, Logan marched through the meticulously kept grounds to the front doors of the cathedral-like structure. A simple press of his hand and the massive doors opened. He stepped inside, his boots ringing on the marbled floor of the anteroom. Ignoring the entrance to the grand hall before him, he turned to the left and the east wing. Here he hesitated, sending out a silent inquiry. The answer made him forgo the ornate stairs that led to the general study rooms, libraries, and living quarters above. He took the narrow hall around to the narrower stairs leading down. Valin was below in one of the archive rooms. Fine by him. He’d rather confront Valin without an audience.

  Perhaps it was wrong to feel such ambivalence toward a fellow Paladin, but Logan couldn’t help it. He’d never liked working with Valin. It wasn’t that Valin was unorthodox—Logan’s exiled brother and best friend, the vampire Roland, took the ribbon for that category—it was Valin’s unpredictability that pissed Logan off. Unfortunately, he and Alex were saddled with the man. All three warriors were on his father’s shit list after their insubordination last summer when they’d helped Roland save his bond mate, and Calhoun Senior’s idea of punishment was to force the three warriors, who’d never had much more than boo to say to each other, to work together.

  Surprisingly, Alex was turning out to be a great partner, but Valin? Well, Logan figured the only reason Valin had agreed to the grouping was it had momentarily amused him to be amiable. Just like it had probably been something else amusing that had kept the Black Knight ghosting in the shade and not in position to come and back Logan and Alex when needed.

  Some definite facial rearrangement was in order.

  Logan reached the bottom of the stairs. Much of the sanctuary lay underground. The subterranean halls and rooms were even more extensive, stretching beyond the foundations of the sanctuary above and far under the rest of the grounds. It was just another measure of defense. Even if Haven’s location was discovered, even if somehow Lucifer’s forces found a way to circumvent the powers of the holy cross and discovered a pathway into Haven, the Paladin could always retreat to the maze of tunnels underneath—and attack their enemies from within.

  Following the general direction of Valin’s earlier response, Logan made his way halfway down the hall, turned left down another, then right until eventually he caught the low hum of murmured conversation.

  Not alone after all. No matter.

  Following the sounds, he slammed through the next door he came to. His sights flickered briefly over Alexander resting stiffly on a pallet and settled on the black-clad Valin who somehow managed to lounge negligently in a hard-backed chair. Three steps later and Logan slammed his hands down on the arms of the chair.

  “Where the hell where you, Valin?”

  Nothing but a blink. Logan pounded the arms of the chair, taking his frustration out on the hard oak rather than the Paladin’s hard head.

  “I called for you,” he said softly, gritting his teeth to hold on to his control. “Where were you?” God, if the succubus hadn’t decided to run…Neither Ganelon nor Lucifer’s minions gave a damn about collateral damage. In fact, they fed off it. It still amazed him the succubus hadn’t seen the possibilities of the woman being there. It’s why the Paladin tried to hunt away from humans: the potential for hostages and innocent deaths was too great.

  “I didn’t abandon you,” Valin finally replied, sounding bored.

  “No? What then?”

  “I found your ambush. Only it wasn’t for us.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Two vamps. They were sneaking up on your half-witted cop with no sense to stay out of dark streets at night.”

  “My cop?” Logan asked uneasily, not sure how Valin had managed to discern the woman was a cop from her looks alone.

  “The woman you were carrying. Brown hair, about five foot ten, Kevlar and gun? Yeah, definitely cop.”

  Logan nodded, though his gut clenched. “You sure it was her they were after?”

  He shrugged. “Or she was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Whatever, it was fate you guys ran by when you did, drawing her away. I was afraid I would have to reveal my naked self to scare her off.” Valin scoffed, shaking his head. “The cop was completely oblivious to those vamps.”

  And vulnerable. What might’ve
happened to her if they hadn’t happened along? What was a woman like her doing there in the first place? Yeah, okay, the badge stuffed in her back pocket had been like a neon sign screaming “cop,” and more than explained what she could have been doing in that part of town, but that wasn’t what he meant. She was a puzzle. Her ID said her name was Jessica Waters. She was five-ten, wore size nine boots, and had the body of a swimsuit model, which she hid behind Kevlar and a bunch of dingy sweats and jeans that lay in piles on the floor of her walk-in closet. And that was another thing. Judging by the sheer size of her upper east side apartment—a good deal bigger than said closet—she obviously had money on top of her cop salary, yet didn’t use it for things like a decent car or fancy furniture. There was only one thing in her apartment that did scream taste and money; an impressive display of artwork on her walls, the sale of which could’ve kept her in luxury until her lustrous hair went completely silver and her teeth fell out, yet she chose to be a cop instead. A warrior of her own people. And completely, utterly, human.

  Damn.

  He became aware of Valin eyeing him oddly. No wonder. He’d been off in la-la land. Forcing his grip from the chair arms, he straightened, turning his attention to the other Paladin in the room. Alexander sat up but remained hunched over, his hand splayed protectively over the white bandage binding his ribs. That bandage was just another reminder of what a fuck-up the night had been. They really needed to convince the council to allow them to carry their weapons out on the street. He understood their concerns over detection—knives and swords were not exactly commonplace anymore—but it was getting too damn dangerous to go without them. Between the war and their own diluted gene pool, the Paladins’ numbers were dwindling, along with them the power of their various gifts. And no gift was without cost. Even Logan’s ability to call His purging light was not a cure-all, the time and personal energy needed to pull from His realm not always possible during the heat of the battle—not to mention it was a one-shot deal until his personal reserves could be restored. But one scratch from a Paladin’s empowered knife, and subduing the succubus wouldn’t have been nearly so challenging. The weapons had been forged to consume all things evil. As it stood, the bitch not only got away, but she’d managed to injure two out of the three Paladins who hunted her.

  “Are you okay?” Logan asked.

  Alexander straightened, grimacing, but nodded. “Fine, just…” He fingered his sore ribs, grunting. “I can’t believe she got the best of me. Twice.”

  “She kicked my ass too.” And he still had the headache to prove it.

  Alexander perked up a bit at this, then grunted, scowling. “I had her, dammit. But that redhead could sure pack a punch.”

  “Red? You sure?” Valin sat up straighter, his bourbon eyes narrowing. “I could’ve sworn she was a brunette.”

  “She wore a wig. It slipped a bit in our last scuffle.”

  Valin sat back in his chair, a pensive frown marring his finely sculpted features. Logan opened his mouth to ask what he was thinking when Alex spoke again. “You get the human taken care of?”

  He turned back to the big man, trying to determine if there was anything more to the question than the obvious, but the Paladin didn’t seem to be anything but mildly curious. “Yeah. Her address was on her registration, her key on her ring.”

  “Anyone see you?”

  “No one that will remember.”

  “Good. That’s one complication we don’t need.”

  Logan turned back to find Valin staring at the far wall. Logan nudged the chair to get his attention. “While you were ghosting, did you notice anything strange about the succubus?”

  Valin looked at him oddly. “What could I have noticed while I was in the shade that I couldn’t otherwise?”

  “I don’t know. It just seems odd that she always seemed to sense when you neared. And for her to get through my defenses like that?”

  Valin smiled, his eyes dancing as he watched Logan rub the back of his head where the headache was the worst. “What did she take you down with, a frying pan or something?”

  “She got through my mental shields.”

  “She did what?” Alexander stood up quickly. Too quickly. He swore, grabbing at his side as he doubled over. Logan stepped toward him to offer his aid, but Alex waved him off, carefully settling back down again.

  “Logan?” Valin prompted.

  “I said she broke through my shields. Practically knocked me out for the count without even touching me.”

  “A succubus can’t do that.”

  “Not if that was all she was.”

  Silence descended over the room, each keeping his own council as he mulled over possibilities. Logan found each thought more alarming than the last. He couldn’t let go of the idea that the succubus had been leading them into a trap—the presence of those vampires seemed too much of a coincidence.

  But how did Jessica Waters fit in? He sighed, running his hand through his hair. He would probably never know. Suspicious coincidences aside, he thought it probable that she’d merely stumbled into the situation. The vampires could’ve been in that alley already, part of the trap for them, and it was pure chance the cop had been there. Wrong place. Wrong time. Simple.

  Logan frowned.

  “Logan?”

  Logan blinked at Alexander and saw the furrow in the man’s brow. Belatedly he realized it wasn’t the first time the Paladin had called his name, just the first time it penetrated his deep brain fog.

  “Wow, you’re really out of it.”

  He shook his head, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Just tired.”

  “It was a long night.” Alexander cocked his head to the side. “What took you so long to get back, anyway?”

  Logan glanced up to see Valin eyeing him also. Nope. No way was Logan going to admit he’d spent the last couple hours standing vigil over a sleeping Jessica. Simply staring at her as the moonlight drifted in through her blinds to catch the highlights in her hair. In the soft light, she looked so delicate. At the time, he told himself he hung around simply to ensure she was all right after his necessary meddling with her memories. But even after she slipped into true sleep he hadn’t been able to tear himself away.

  Because you want her. You could have her too. Just go back over there and use those dimples of yours and…

  Shit. It was that kind of thinking that was going to get him in trouble. He was the future head of the council and couldn’t afford the head-fuck that would come with getting involved with a human…especially a cop. And using her to scratch his itch would be just plain wrong. Neither Alexander nor Valin would understand that though. None of the Paladin would understand. So he stared into Alexander’s probing gaze and deadpanned, “Traffic.”

  Chapter 4

  Logan’s head barely hit the pillow when his cell phone went skittering across the bedside table and plopped onto the floor. With a groan he leaned over the side of the bed and scooped up the phone, pressing “answer.”

  “’Ello?”

  “It’s Karissa.”

  “Problem?” he asked and rubbed the heel of his hand into his eyes, trying to vanquish the residual sleepiness. There’d been no “Hey, how are you?” Which set all his alarms ringing. Roland might converse in short, to-the-point sentences, but in the couple months he’d known his half-sister, he’d learned that she was, in general, more chatty.

  “You could say that.”

  Logan rolled over, squinting at the digital readout on his bedside alarm/radio. Three—in the afternoon. “Isn’t it a bit early to be getting into trouble?”

  Just because Roland could now go out during the day didn’t mean he did so often. And Karissa, being bonded to Roland, tended to follow his schedule. Their need to be close, the mutual feeding of mood and energy through the mate-bond, was almost frightening in
its intensity. Which was something Logan kept reminding himself when he woke alone in his bed.

  Two hundred and ninety-five years. Not quite eternity but, damn, it sometimes seemed like it.

  He ran his hands over his face, wiping away both sleep and morose thoughts. His sister wasn’t an alarmist. She wouldn’t be calling for something petty. “So what happened?”

  “There was a damn kitten on the ledge. All fluffy and cute and yowling up a storm.” She made a sound kind of like a growl. “Bleeding heart had to rescue it.”

  Thoughts of Roland’s current popularity with the media had Logan swearing. There had been an incident over the summer. A middle-aged banker preying on coeds and Roland, righteous fucker that he was, couldn’t just stand by and watch a woman get raped. And though any Paladin worth his weight—even an exiled one like Roland—wouldn’t have stood for that kind of shit, Roland seemed to attract bad luck. The rapist later turned up dead and the woman Roland saved gave Roland’s description down to a T. So much for gratitude. Now a sketch was showing up on the evening news.

  “In broad daylight?” he asked.

  Karissa’s silence was answer enough. Logan groaned, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I take it he stopped traffic and drew in the fire department.”

  “Nothing like that. But that nosey woman in Twelve D saw him.”

  “Crap.”

  “Yup. And guess what she does when she’s not sticking her nose in other people’s business?”

  “Let me guess…”

  “…she watches the news,” they finished together.

  “Fucking spectacular.” He plopped back down on the bed, trying to hold his brain in with one hand against his temple. It had obviously swollen from trying to process the full extent of his friend’s stupidity and was attempting to explode out of his skull.