KnockingonDemon'sDoor

by Unknown

  Knocking on Demon’s Door

  Cathryn Fox

  Demon hunter Detective Michelle never thought she’d be working with a demon during her undercover assignment at a Canadian ski resort. Blake Ashen might only be half-demon, but he exudes full-demon charisma and lust.

  Michelle needs to discover why so many women are dying and going missing at the resort. She has no choice but to form an alliance with Blake, who is having a seriously strong effect on her libido. Forced to pretend they’re lovers, the two get up close and personal and Michelle begins yearning for a taste of him. In no time at all, the woman in her overrules the cop and she finds herself knocking on a demon’s bedroom door, where she discovers the man is far more potent than the demon.

  When Michelle gets drugged and dragged to an underground cavern where unsuspecting women become victims, will her trust in Blake prove her damnation or salvation?

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Knocking on Demon’s Door

  ISBN 9781419925061

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Knocking on Demon’s Door Copyright © 2010 Cathryn Fox

  Edited by Briana St. James

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book publication February 2010

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Knocking on Demon’s Door

  Cathryn Fox

  Dedication

  To Briana, for loving my concept and helping me make this story shine.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  American Idol: FremantleMedia North America Inc.

  Barbie: Mattel Inc.

  Jack Daniel’s: Jack Daniel’s Properties, Inc.

  Labatt Blue: Labatt Breweries of Canada

  Chapter One

  Blake Ashen dried a shot glass as he glanced around the ski resort lounge which was strategically situated in the valley between two towering Canadian mountains. He placed the glass on the rack and reached for another while he catalogued the room and took in the perfect little patrons with their perfect little smiles and their perfect outfits and matching accessories. Even though outwardly the resort looked like a dream vacation destination specifically designed for the rich and bored, Blake instinctively knew there was a hell of a lot more going on in the resort than met the eye. Damn if he didn’t plan to get to the bottom of matters.

  He swallowed as he turned his focus to his own clothes and the crisp tailored work shirt and pleated dress pants that made him feel about as comfortable as a Saint Bernard on a Maui beach. Despite playing the part, and fitting the image associated with the resort’s refined, upper-crust bartender, Blake would be the first to admit that he was far from perfect, but still, he had his pride.

  And since swallowing that pride wasn’t normally his thing, he’d found himself in trouble a time or two. Captured in the crosshairs, despite his rather…let’s just call them…unusual abilities. Then again, perhaps it was because of them.

  Yeah, trouble and Blake were old friends. He had the scars to prove it. Some lacerations inflicted by the cops themselves, and others given by the convicts he’d been locked up with.

  And they called Blake the monster.

  But today was different. Today he was swallowing and he was swallowing hard. He had no choice in the matter. Especially if he wanted to find his twin sister alive. If that meant dressing the part and doing exactly what his boss told him to do—when he told him to do it—in order to prove his unequivocal loyalties, he’d shut up and do it without question. He hadn’t spent months getting close to Trevor Black, owner of the exclusive ski resort, in an attempt to discover what went on in his underground caverns only to let his explosive temper ruin everything. Cass and he only had each other and he wasn’t about to let anything stand in the way of finding her.

  Not even his pride.

  Bile rose in his throat and turned his stomach, a familiar reminder that this was all his fault. He hadn’t kept as close to Cass as he should have. After all, in this crazy fucked- up world they needed each other’s support for survival. She’d taken off a few years ago after their mother had died. Needed to find her place, she’d said. Heck, who was he to stop her? They all had their own demons to fight, so to speak. At first she’d called and checked in with him every few months, but he’d begun to worry when her calls suddenly stopped. Being her twin—not to mention their “abilities”—gave him a strong psychic connection to her. He could feel her emotions and catch fleeting images of her life in fast forward. It was those images that had warned of danger. That was when his hunt for her began.

  The cops had never done a damn thing to help him in the past, so seeking their assistance was out. His own research and mental glimpses into her life had enabled him to track Cass to this ski resort hidden amidst the Canadian mountains, far away from civilization. With the retreat smack-dab in the middle of nowhere, it was the perfect spot for human monsters to hang out and go undetected as they engaged in every degenerate activity known to mankind.

  Blake finished drying a glass and nodded to the twenty-something man who’d just stumbled up to the bar, his eyes a tad too glossy from the last double shot of whiskey that he’d downed in record time. Blake didn’t bother to sniff him. He already knew the guy was just a regular old red-blooded Canadian. No demon blood there. Not a drop.

  Lucky bastard.

  Not that any demons sidled up to his bar for a drink, however, especially in the light of day. They didn’t. Full-blooded demons could only come out at night. Few humans had the ability to see them, and those who did surely wished they hadn’t. Nothing good ever came from a human interacting with a demon. And he should know. Human and demon alike considered him no good. Besides his sister the only other one who’d every believed in him or showed him any kindness was his mother, and she hadn’t exactly been unbiased.

  As a receiver of energy, a “seer”—more in tune with the spiritual world and their frequency than others—she was one of the few who had the talent to “see” monsters.

  But look where that got her, a single mom in hiding, raising two monster babies. Not that anyone could blame her for being lured in by one. Blake knew the power a demon had over a human woman. Hell, he had it himself when he wanted to use it. Charming, charismatic, fiery passion; no one had the strength to resist such temptation. But despite giving in to the lure of a demon and knowing what her offspring were, his mother had reared them with love. She’d taught them to look for the best of both their worlds in themsel
ves, not the worst, and had given them affection while trying to find ways to help them control their excessive emotions and strength. It was her strength that had helped Blake resist the unrelenting temptation of the Demon world and all its fixes.

  Cass and he had always been close, counting on each other for support in a cold, unfriendly world where humans were quick to hunt and kill anything perceived as different. She’d always been the stronger of the two of them and was the one who’d managed to stay out of trouble—as an adolescent, Blake had a little too much of the pleasure seeker in him. Their mother’s death had taken its toll on Cass. When she’d died she’d taken a piece of Cass with her and it had left his sister trying to find her place in society that wanted nothing to do with her. Blake understood her pain and her inherent need to acquire a sense of belonging, but her quick departure left him feeling especially alone in this hostile world. She felt the emptiness too, he’d sensed it. He also sensed something else, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Which made him really, really afraid that trouble had finally caught up with Cass. And the worst part of it was, he couldn’t be sure which world it had found her in.

  “What can I do for you, Mac?” Blake wondered why the guy thought alcohol, being a depressant and all, would help numb the pain. But who was Blake to pass judgment? What the guy did and how he handled his problems were between him and his god.

  From what Blake had come to learn, Mac had lost his girlfriend the year before. She’d died on the slopes, been airlifted to the hospital and cremated before he’d even had a chance to say goodbye.

  Weird, eh?

  Blake thought so too. He also thought sometimes life sucked like that.

  Other times it just sucked.

  The guy slammed his glass on the table. “I’ll’ve another,” he said, his words slurred over a thick tongue. He glanced at the small white nametag pinned to Blake’s chest. “Put it on my tab, Ashen.”

  “Sure thing, Mac,” Blake said with a smile. Like the good doobie he was, following his boss’s instructions to the T, Blake turned his back and went to work on fixing the drink, ignoring the fact that the poor bastard could barely stand. But since the boss’s motto was, never send them away sober, without a drunken slur, or with money in their pocket, he poured. Blake was pretty sure this guy was batting three for three.

  “Ashen…what kinda names is…is…that?” the man slurred.

  It was a nickname he’d given to himself when he was an angry, confused kid. A shen was a demon. Ashen. He’d kept the nickname as a constant reminder of what he was, who he was and where he’d come from. Never for one minute could he be allowed to believe that he fit in, not in the human world or in the demon world. He’d pretty much ruled out the small bungalow, white picket fence and two point four kids.

  Nope, a wife and family weren’t in the cards for him. Physical relationships he could do. But getting emotionally close to a woman and risking hurting her was a chance he wasn’t about to take. If he grew soft, allowed his heart to rule his head, he might as well lay out a red welcoming carpet for his demon side at the same time. Like his mother had always cautioned, any weakness in his human half increased the power of his demon part, allowing it to grow stronger and overtake the man. Blake, wouldn’t—couldn’t—let that happen. Yeah, he was a monster, but despite what most thought of him, he wasn’t a soulless monster who cared little about humanity. Which was what had led him into demon hunting in the first place. He’d made it his personal mission to rid the earth of every vile beast who though the night streets were their personal playground, because pure demons really were heartless bastards who’d use any means to get what they wanted, including rape, torture and trickery. And the truth was, like any other human he’d been born with deep-seated feelings, but for humanity’s sake, he just kept them in check at all times.

  Ignoring Mac’s question, Blake buried those dark thoughts in the recesses of his mind, plastered on a smile, turned back around and slid the glass across the mahogany bar.

  “One whiskey, neat.” So what if the glass contained only soda pop and Mac was too drunk to notice? Blake’s deceptions were between him and his own god. Hell, even monsters were entitled to gods.

  A quick glance at the clock told him he had less than a half hour to go before his evening meeting with Trevor. He fisted his hands and worked hard to calm himself. Hopefully what Trevor had to show him would answer his questions, and with any luck, those answers would lead him to his sister. Right now she needed him as much as he needed her. Of that he was certain.

  A movement at the door caught his attention. He angled his head and watched a group of ski instructors pour in from the lobby. Laughing and jostling one another, they signaled the waitress to bring them drinks and then sat at the corner booth.

  Blake watched them for a moment, taking extra interest in the new instructor, noting with all his pleasure-seeking demon senses how there was something about her that separated her from the others. Snug jeans showed off the lush curve of her ass as she shimmied into the deepest corner and shed her ski jacket. Bare pink lips turned up to reveal perfect white teeth. It was all he could do not to run his tongue over his own as he thought about tasting her. Momentarily giving in to his wayward thoughts he let his glance race over her. The tight T-shirt she wore showed off firm breasts and hard nipples that he’d like to explore with his hands, his mouth, his tongue and had him conjuring up erotic images of their salacious bodies banging together. He put her somewhere in her mid twenties even though her fresh, girl-next-door looks made her appear years younger.

  As his cock throbbed, common sense overrode his demon ones. He watched her body language. She sat with her back to the wall, cataloging her surroundings, taking careful stock of all its patrons. As she scanned the room her gorgeous green eyes latched on his. When her pupils dilated—an involuntary reaction undetectable by any human from this distance—and she quickly pulled her gaze from his, he stopped sucking air.

  Surely to God she couldn’t…

  He clenched his jaw and forced himself to inflate his lungs—slow, calming, relaxing breaths to help center himself.

  Damn it, this was not what he needed. Not now. Not with him so close to answers. He took a moment to study her, committing her features, her body language and her every nuance to memory in case he had to draw on them later. Young, attractive, flirty, she tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder and laughed too loud, playing the part of a brainless ski bunny. But he knew the ski-bunny persona was all an act. His gut tightened and the demon blood raced through his system, bringing on a shudder. Much to his dismay, he knew that shudder had nothing at all to do with anger. Damn it…

  He cursed himself for feeling aroused, interested and far more intrigued by her physical appearance than he would have liked, because the little bunny was nothing other than a cop. And if there was one thing he hated more than swallowing his pride…

  Detective Michelle Simms, alias Sunny while undercover at the resort, forced herself not to show any outward hint of emotion when her gaze locked on the bartender’s.

  Nevertheless, she knew by the way he looked away too fast, that the jump in her heart rate, the sudden sweat on her palms and the quick flash of heat between her legs hadn’t gone unnoticed by him.

  Michelle was good at her job. Damn good. No mere man could distract her from her work this easily. She knew, because plenty had tried in the past.

  Yet this guy hadn’t even tried and here she suddenly—incomprehensibly—found herself thinking about sex. Hot, sweaty—bang-you-up-against-the-wall—kind of sex. As warmth ambushed her pussy, her nipples tightened. Delicious images played out in her mind like an erotic slideshow—those firm lips of his pulling her hard buds between his mouth, licking and sucking, biting and nibbling, before he buried his face between the juncture of her legs, indulged in her pussy and brought her to orgasmic bliss.

  Damn…

  Michelle wasn’t just a cop, she was a “seer” who secretly hunted things
that went bump in the night—things that most humans had no idea existed—and if she didn’t know better, based on her primal reactions to him, she’d think the bartender was a creature of the night. A vile, soulless demon. At that sobering thought her temperature spiked and caught her off guard. So did the shiver prowling through her—warning her.

  Jesus, was it possible?

  Trying to ignore her body’s inconvenient reaction to him, she writhed uncomfortably and worked to dispel the desire parading through her veins. Plastering on a vapid smile, she returned to ski-bunny mode and joked with the other instructors seated around the table.

  But still, she couldn’t seem to get her mind off that bartender, or the possibility that he was a demon. Hell, she’d never seen a demon in the light of day before, let alone one holding down a job at an exclusive resort. She had to be mistaken. She just had to be. Then again, after some of the inexplicable things she’d witnessed over the years she was open to the possibility. Not to mention her body’s knee-jerk reaction to him. She knew from experience that only a demon could instantly pull such a powerful sexual response from her.

  She noted the way the other women in the room stared at him. He didn’t do anything to encourage them. Simply by breathing, he drew the attention of all those around him. As desire continued to prowl through her, Michelle pulled in a clarifying breath of her own.

  “Pretty hot, isn’t he?” Tabby asked, catching where Michelle’s glance kept straying.

  It wasn’t a good sign when even a self-absorbed airhead like Tabby could pick up on her interest in the bartender.

  “Who?” Michelle asked, faking ignorance as she turned her attention to her brand-new friend and temporary roommate for the duration of this assignment. Her mind raced. If the guy was a demon, how could all these people see him? Demons could only come out at night and could only interact with those few select who had the “gift” to see them. She knew, because she’d studied all manner of things that thrived in the dark. That was why she’d become a cop. Someone had to protect other innocent “seers” who didn’t know how to protect themselves.