Hot Demon Nights

by Elle James

  “Could we?” I asked.

  The woman glared at me. “I wasn’t talkin’ to you.” Her gaze softened as she batted her eyes at Blaise. “I was talking to the cute one.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I would like to come in.” Blaise waved a hand behind his back, motioning for me to stay put.

  For at least ten minutes, I cooled my heels on the steps of the apartment building. While it was, for once, refreshing to have someone else treated as the sex object, I couldn’t say I liked being left out of the loop.

  When Blaise finally emerged, he leaned down and kissed the old woman’s hand. “Thank you, Miss Emma. You’ve been a huge help.”

  “Anytime, Blaise.” She giggled, her cheeks blushing a soft rose.

  I continued to stare after her as she disappeared back into her apartment.

  Blaise tapped a finger beneath my chin, closing my gaping mouth. “There wasn’t anything in Marcus’s apartment that would indicate why he’d steal bodies.”

  “Nice to know. What did you do to that woman? Use some demon mojo on her?”

  He grinned. “Nothing deliberate, but a certain degree of charisma comes naturally. She did all the rest, going so far as to let me into Marcus’s apartment for a good look around, which, by the way, told me nothing.”

  I stared up at the building, away from Blaise’s sexy face. “Now what?”

  “Now we wait.”

  “You really think he’ll walk right in if he sees us waiting for him?”

  “Of course not.” He held up a key. “That’s why we’ll be waiting in his apartment.”

  I swiped at the key, but he dodged my grab. “How did you get that?” I asked.

  “I have ways.”

  “Does Miss Emma know you took it from her?”

  “No.”

  “Do you realize how illegal that is?”

  “It’s not like we have to worry about evidence getting thrown out of court. Cases involving the paranormal don’t go to court. And Thomas doesn’t much care about methods as long as we get results.” He tossed the key into the air and caught it. “Are you in?”

  I closed my eyes and heaved a sigh. This went against every bit of training I’d ever gotten as a cop.

  But then again, I’d never been a fan of playing by the rules.

  My eyelids fluttered open and my gaze captured Blaise’s intense black look. “I’m in.”

  Chapter Three

  We waited until late afternoon when other residents returned home and fell in step behind them as they entered the building, carefully avoiding detection by the landlady. Once inside, we hurried to Marcus’s apartment and slipped in while no one was looking.

  As Blaise had said, there wasn’t even a scrap of paper lying around referencing the transfer of money or bodies. I checked the garbage, finding only empty food wrappers from hamburger stands and pizzerias.

  “Might as well get comfortable. He probably won’t show up until close to eight o’clock. Miss Emma said he didn’t come home until minutes before eight last night.”

  “Are you sure she didn’t see us come in? If she can give you specific times when Dunham arrived, she doesn’t miss a lot.”

  Blaise chuckled. “You worry too much.”

  I stood beside the window, peering down through a gap in the old curtain at the street below. “I’m new to this detective work, but I’m almost certain sitting inside a suspect’s apartment waiting to ambush him is not how it’s done.” As it was, daylight had darkened into dusk and the interior of the room had grown more gloomy with each passing moment.

  Blaise positioned himself behind me. I didn’t hear his footsteps on the wood flooring so much as I sensed his presence. My nerve endings tingled with awareness, sending warning signals to my brain. My body and my mind gave me mixed signals. While my logic told me to get the hell away from the demon, my body swayed backward.

  His hands descended on my shoulders, sliding down my arms to rest on the curve of my hips. Blaise bent over my shoulder, his warm breath sending chills down the back of my neck.

  I shivered. Not a cold kind of shiver, but a shiver of anticipation. “Don’t do it…” I warned, wondering if the warning was for him or myself.

  You want it.

  No, I don’t. Oh, but my traitorous body did.

  Liar. His lips caressed the curve where my neck joined my shoulder, sending a carnal response directly south to that place low, low, low in my belly. We both want this. It’s…distracting, isn’t it? Don’t you want me to clear your mind?

  It was distracting—and that was the problem. Lust hadn’t distracted me for way too long. Ever since Chicago. And even before then, nothing had ever felt this good. My core tightened, awash with a desire more intense than anything I’d ever experienced. “What are you doing to me?”

  “Nothing you don’t already crave.”

  My head tipped backward, resting against his chest, despite every recrimination I could muster against myself. When his fingers tightened on my hips, my body automatically aligned with his. I was on fire, burning out of control in the apartment of a man suspected of stealing bodies, and there was nothing I could do to stop the demon’s next move.

  The hard ridge in his trousers nudged against the denim of my jeans, pressing against me, inspiring all manner of lewd ideas. I fought for control, knowing he could read my every thought. But the pleasure was so all-consuming that I couldn’t help but melt into it.

  “Tell me yes, Katya,” he said against my ear. “Admit that you want this…as much as I do.” The smoothness in his voice was gone. It was gravelly now, as if he fought for his own control. It made me feel powerful, knowing I could turn him on that much and that he’d still wait for me to say yes. Maybe it was that—the contrast with the last man who made me feel so powerless—that had me finally giving in.

  “Yes,” I whispered. I closed my eyes, surrendering to sensation.

  He groaned in response before his hands left my hips, sliding up beneath my leather jacket to cup my breasts. “I’m drawn to you like a bee to honey. I must drink.” His lips trailed up the length of my neck.

  My clothes were too tight. My skin begged for release from constriction. I wanted to be naked with this demon, to lie with him and let him thrust deep into my body.

  His teeth captured the lobe of my ear, nipping gently, then he sucked it between his lips and tongued the edge while his fingers tweaked the turgid peaks of my nipples through my T-shirt and bra.

  I moaned, my hips undulating, my bottom rubbing against his hard cock.

  Then he spun me in his arms, grasping my cheeks between his palms. “What are you doing to me?” he asked, his voice low. He crushed me against him, his lips slamming down over my mouth, his tongue thrusting past my teeth to claim mine, sliding swiftly along the length.

  My fingers dug into his shirt, searching for skin. I found buttons, yanking them free of their holes. When I had three undone, I slipped a hand inside, skimming across his naked torso, probing for and finding the hard little nipples, drawn tight.

  He backed me against the wall beside the window, lifting my legs to wrap around his waist. “You have bewitched me.”

  My ankles crossed behind him, drawing my core closer to the ridge beneath his trousers. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t voice my lurid thoughts, but they blazed in my mind, vivid and erotic, and I knew he got the message.

  “Yeah,” he murmured. “That. Definitely that.” He ripped the button of my jeans open, sliding the zipper down. His fingers slipped inside my panties, angled straight for the juncture of my thighs. Parting the folds with a thick digit, he strummed the nubbin of tightly coiled nerves until they screamed inside me for release. My back arched against the wall and I called out his name. “Blaise.”

  “Shh.” He covered my mouth with his, muffling my cries as I pitched over the edge and erupted into an orgasm so powerful, it shook me. My hips jerked with each spasm, ramming myself into his palm until I slumped against him, my breathing ragged, my muscles li
mp.

  “What the hell just happened?” I asked, my lips grazing the side of his cheek.

  “If I have to tell you…” He chuckled, the sound less than steady.

  The rattle of the doorknob ripped me out of the afterglow. My feet hit the floor as the deadbolt clicked open.

  Blaise and I dove behind the couch, and I landed on top of him as the door swung open.

  “Thanks for dinner, Letty.” A male voice echoed in the hallway outside the apartment.

  “See ya later?” a woman asked, her voice low and suggestive.

  “Can’t. I’ll call you.” The door to the apartment closed.

  My breasts pressed into Blaise’s chest, my legs straddled his waist, bringing me far too close to his stiff erection. The adrenaline pumping through my veins did nothing to quell the desire still lingering even after my mind-blowing orgasm.

  His hand slid over the back of my thigh.

  My breath caught and held as the sound of footsteps edged toward us.

  I waited for the light to blink on, but it didn’t. Whoever had entered, moved around in the dark, heading into the single bedroom. The sound of a zipper sliding made my head jerk up.

  Bet he’s packing to leave.

  For once I didn’t argue with Blaise’s ability to speak into my mind.

  I eased off him, giving him the room to turn over and be ready in case we had to run. I wondered if I should stand up and confront the man or wait and follow him. Considering we had entered Marcus’s apartment uninvited, there was no telling how he’d react if we confronted him.

  Wait and follow.

  I low-crawled to the edge of the couch and peered around.

  I could just make out the silhouette of a man in the dim light streaming through the bedroom window. He was flinging clothing and valuables into a backpack with more haste than care. When he was done, he jerked the zipper around and flung a strap over his shoulder. Then he was out the door of the apartment all in the space of two minutes.

  I leaped to my feet, but Blaise beat me to the door. Footsteps pounded down a back staircase.

  “He’s headed out the back,” I whispered, hurrying in that direction.

  I rushed down the steps after Marcus. Blaise circled around me and took the steps two at a time, arriving at the bottom much faster.

  Marcus had exited the building into a back alley moments before.

  We got outside, and I could see Marcus twenty yards away. He spun to face the door when he heard us open it, then whirled and ran. I tore out after him. We couldn’t let him get away. So far he was the only person who could tell us where the bodies had been taken and who was turning them into zombies.

  At the end of the alley, Marcus cut to the left, ducking out of sight.

  My heart raced and I prayed I’d pick up his trail as soon as I rounded the corner.

  Blaise and I arrived at the corner at the same time. Marcus was nowhere in sight.

  Half a block away was a narrow alley between the buildings, to the left and the right of the street. When we got there, Blaise broke off and ran left. I ran right, my breath coming in gasps, my muscles burning. Another turn led to yet another alley. I stopped, held my breath and listened. The sound of someone slamming into a chain-link fence galvanized my efforts and I ran in that direction. Rounding a corner, I entered an alley dead-ending at a ten-foot high fence. A man carrying a backpack teetered at the top, his leg flung over the other side.

  I drew the gun from my shoulder holster and pointed it at the man. “Stop, or I’ll shoot!” As soon as I said the words, I regretted them. The threat would only scare him into trying harder to get away.

  “Marcus, I’m not going to shoot. You don’t have to run.” I tried to reassure him. I had no intention of hurting him. “We just want to talk to you.”

  Too late. Marcus’s momentum carried him over the fence, and he was dropping to the other side when his backpack caught on the jagged top edge of the fence. For a moment he hung suspended by the straps. As he fought to free himself, one strap loosened, tilting his body sharply to the left. The other arm worked free, but by then he was falling at a bad angle.

  His legs bicycled in the air, his arms pinwheeling, but he wasn’t able to straighten before he hit the ground, his skull smashing against the pavement.

  I holstered my weapon and flung myself at the fence, my fingers clinging to the links as I scrambled upward.

  Another force hit the fence and Blaise was climbing up and over, faster than I could have hoped to. At the top, he slung his leg over and dropped lithely to the ground beside Marcus, crouching to feel for a pulse.

  I eased over the sharp, twisted points at the top and worked my way down the other side. When I was within five feet of the pavement, I jumped free, landing hard. “Is he…?”

  “Alive, yes, but I’m not sure for how long. He hit the pavement pretty hard. There might be bleeding on the brain.”

  I pulled my cell phone from my back pocket and dialed 9-1-1, reporting the injury and the location.

  Less than an hour later, the police had processed the scene, and emergency medical technicians had loaded Marcus into an ambulance and taken him to a nearby hospital.

  Blaise and I were no closer to solving the case than when we’d started. Nothing in Marcus’s backpack or on his person gave us any more clues in the case.

  “Come on, let’s get some coffee and we can plan our next move.” Blaise led the way out of the alley.

  My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since early that morning, not that I could eat after seeing Marcus lying in a pool of blood, but coffee…I could do.

  My phone vibrated in my back jeans pocket. I fished it out and punched the talk button, not recognizing the phone number displayed. “Danske speaking.”

  “It’s Detective Thomas. We’ve had another zombie attack.”

  Chapter Four

  We arrived at the midtown apartment of Ivana Felding, a beautiful young woman who’d recently been widowed, though not by our latest zombie attack. Her husband had died a month prior of a heart attack brought on by picking his parents unwisely—genetics.

  Mrs. Felding had been attacked on the street as she’d climbed out of her limousine to enter her apartment building.

  “I’d just returned from visiting a friend.” Her hands shook as she pulled thin black gloves from her fingertips. “He came out of nowhere and tackled me.” Ivana drew in a deep, shuddering breath, trails of mascara running the length of her face, blending with the too-red lipstick, giving her a downright scary, horror-movie appearance. Then her shoulders hunched and she sobbed. She threw herself against me, pressing her wet face against my leather jacket. I patted her back awkwardly, then tried to peel her off my chest. I was almost more frightened of her than of the zombie who’d attacked me. Weepy, make-up-stained women gave me a rash.

  I guided her around a throw pillow that had been tossed carelessly to the floor and pushed her none too gently into a lounge chair. Her perfume overpowered me, making my nose itch. I stepped back several feet to put distance between us, but her perfume followed, clinging to me, making my eyes water. I blinked. “Did you recognize the man?”

  “Of course not. He was gray and ghoulish and…and…he smelled!” She pressed a lace handkerchief to her eyes and dabbed at the tears, managing only to smear the remainder of her eye makeup even more, staining the lace. “Damn Gordon for leaving me in this position. Damn him!” Clutching the crumpled lace, she pounded her delicate fist on her slim knee.

  “What do you mean?” I scrubbed the back of my hand across my eyes.

  “If he hadn’t died, none of this would be happening! I wouldn’t be exposed, alone and broke.” She buried her face in her palms and wept.

  “Broke?” I queried. “From what I understand, Felding was worth millions.”

  “The bastard left everything to his kids from his first marriage.” Ivana practically spat the words. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  I j
otted down the information while Blaise skulked around the woman’s apartment. What he was looking for was beyond me. The woman had been attacked outside, not in the apartment. “Mrs. Felding, has this apartment been vandalized?” Blaise asked.

  “Why no. No, it hasn’t.” She tore at the lace handkerchief, plucking at the ends. “Why do you ask?”

  He shrugged in that way I’d begun to suspect was his way of appearing casual. “Is it always such a mess?”

  For the first time I glanced around, from the stark white seating and black lacquer end tables to the bookshelves lining one entire wall. Gleaming silver, gold and red in all its antique glory was an ornamental Samurai sword hanging over the leather couch. Amid the opulent furniture, the books and knickknacks lay in disarray, some of them dropped to the floor carelessly.

  Ivana wiped her eyes. “I’ve been so drowned in grief, I haven’t had the cleaning service by in over a week. I just wanted to be left alone.”

  Blaise seemed to accept that response. I wasn’t sure what he was getting at and didn’t pursue it.

  As we left the building, I stopped at the security desk. “Any video footage available of the front of the building?”

  The guard sitting there had a glazed expression on his face. “The police who got here first confiscated it.”

  I frowned. “We need that footage.”

  “Sorry, lady, you’ll have to ask your buddies on the force.” The guard shook his head, staring at his hands. “Hell, they don’t pay me enough for this job.”

  Outside, I lifted my face to a cool spring breeze, letting the air clear my head and senses of Mrs. Felding’s cloying perfume, and allowing Blaise to guide me to the curb, where he hailed a taxi.

  “Where to?” the taxi driver asked as I slid across the back seat.

  I leaned forward. “The Fifth Precinct building.”

  “Strike that,” Blaise said as he climbed in and faced me. “You have a computer at your apartment?”

  “Yeah. Why?” I was anxious to get to the video and see what it might reveal. And maybe I was a little uneasy about taking Blaise back to my place. I refused to let myself regret what we’d done in Marcus’s apartment, but just because I’d enjoyed it didn’t mean I wanted it to happen again. Even if I was ready for a relationship—which I wasn’t—getting tangled up with my partner could be a disaster.