Jordyn (A Daemon Hunter Novel Book One)

by Tiffany King

  "Pretty amazing, huh?" Emrys breathed in my ear, making me shiver with awareness.

  "It's pretty cool," I teased. "Especially after the freak show out there."

  "Watch it, missy, or I might just tattoo a demon on your snarky ass," Anthony warned as he started pulling out supplies from the long airbrushed camouflaged cabinet that ran the length of one of the walls.

  Why would he say that? What does he know about me?

  "Relax. He only means since you're acting like a tough ass," Emrys mumbled for my ears only. He must have noticed the way I suddenly tensed up.

  It was just the surprise of hearing someone outside of my circle refer to Daemons. Even so, the idea of actually having one tattooed on my ass was downright puke-worthy.

  "Only if I'm kicking the demon's ass," I replied.

  "Sweetheart, ain't no one doing that. They're vapor, nothing of substance," Anthony answered, pointing to the only chair in the room. I looked at the chair appraisingly, not even aware it was there until he pointed it out. Like the cabinet, it was just another extension of the same airbrushing that covered the walls.

  "This really is amazing," I admitted, studying the chair. "Why hide it?"

  "I have my reasons," Anthony answered, his genial tone gone.

  Emrys shot me a warning glance. Biting back a sarcastic comment, I settled in the chair. It probably wasn't wise to piss off an artist before he permanently put his ink stamp on my skin.

  "So, pick your poison," Anthony said a little more jovially as he indicated the walls that surrounded me.

  "I can pick something from this?" I asked excited as I stood up and studied the walls more critically. There were literally thousands of things to choose from. I wouldn't have minded a kickass dragon like Emrys's, but pretty much felt that would be ultra cliché and borderline psycho to get the same tat as the guy I liked. Looking past the bigger designs, I studied the smaller pictures that would have been lost next to their larger counterparts if not for the minute details that made them appear lifelike. I circled the room twice before stopping beneath the one picture that seemed to have a trancelike effect on me.

  "I want that one," I said with finality, pointing above my head to a unique butterfly that morphed from flaming shades of red to a vibrant shade of purple.

  "Good choice," Emrys murmured with approval.

  I didn't need his approval, but it did give me a little bit of pleasure, knowing that he liked what I picked.

  "Why?" Anthony asked.

  "Why what?" I asked, confused at his odd question.

  "What is it about that particular picture that speaks to you? Marking your body should not be entered into lightly. Your body is your temple and should be treated with the utmost sacredness. What one word describes how you feel when you look at it?" he asked, studying me with intensity.

  His words struck a chord within me, and I completely understood without a shadow of a doubt what the picture meant to me. "Free," I said without hesitation. "It doesn't give a shit about anything else but being free, shedding its old self in the process. Becoming something so much better, so much more important, something unforgettable," I added with passion, fighting back sudden tears.

  Both of them seemed taken aback by my words as they studied me intently.

  "It seems free," I said lamely, trying to keep my voice natural.

  "Yes, it's free, but at what cost?" Anthony asked, pointing to the destruction that was left behind the trail of the butterfly as it morphed from one shade to the next. Flames licked their way up the path the butterfly had flown destroying everything it left behind.

  Perhaps that's why it appealed to me so much. If I was ever set free, would I leave nothing but destruction in my wake?

  "Freedom is a battle," I answered, agreeing with him.

  "Where do you want it?" he asked, obviously satisfied with my answer.

  "Here," I said, pointing to my left shoulder blade.

  He nodded his approval. "You'll have to remove your shirt," he said in a businesslike manor as he snapped on a pair of surgical gloves.

  Emrys looked at me appraisingly as I tugged my shirt over my head. I was used to training in my sports bra, so being without a shirt was nothing new, but Emrys's eyes read like an open book as he took in my tanned taut stomach and full chest. Everything inside me seemed to tighten in reaction to his stare. I gripped my shirt in my hand and moved it up to cover the front of my sports bra. My eyes clashed with his, challenging his blatant hound dog stare. He winked at me, making my insides turn to putty. I must not have been that hard to read either because he allowed his eyes to travel up my torso past my collarbone until they finally rested on my lips. Figuring two could play this game, I licked my lips with the tip of my tongue and bit back a laugh as his eyes darkened and his hand reached out for the counter to steady himself. He took a half step toward me and my knees trembled as the electricity we had been ignoring for the last few days rose to a sizzling fever pitch.

  I was reminded we weren't alone when Anthony pushed a button on the arm of the chair, lowering the back of the chair down so that it was flush with the bottom of the seat. The humming of the chair cut through the electricity until it was a dull buzz.

  "If you two are done eye-banging each other, I need Jordyn to lay flat on her belly," Anthony said dryly, pointing toward the chair.

  "Right, it's E who's doing the banging," I said, acting indifferent. I tossed my shirt at the counter where Emrys's hand still rested, grinning wickedly at him as I lay down.

  "Riiiiiiight, and I'm Batman," Anthony countered.

  "I figured as much," I answered, my words coming out muffled.

  "That demon tattoo is sounding like the way to go, or maybe a succubus," Emrys said under his breath.

  Anthony barked out a laugh as he swabbed at my shoulder with alcohol.

  "Don't you dare," I said, glaring at them over my shoulder.

  "No moving," Anthony commanded as he switched on the tattoo gun and approached me. "Unless you want a tattoo you didn't sign up for."

  I flinched slightly as the cold tip of the gun touched my skin. Surprisingly, although I felt pressure, it really didn't hurt all that much. Definitely not as painful as my recent tumble that had left my knees looking like raw meat.

  I found the noise of the tattoo gun almost soothing as it hummed near my ear. Anthony and Emrys kept up a steady stream of chatter as I let my thoughts drift. Krista's hurt expression from earlier flashed through my mind as I finally allowed myself to focus on the mess I had left behind. The anger I had felt was long gone, only to be replaced with guilt. It wasn't Krista's and Mark's fault Haniel was keeping all of us in the dark. They had been kind enough to take me in on the heels of their honeymoon, and I repaid them by throwing a fit like a spoiled two-year-old. I needed to fix the mess I had left behind.

  Feeling chagrined at my behavior, I made a move to sit up, forgetting I was in the process of forever marring my skin.

  "What the hell?" Anthony griped, pulling the gun away from my skin.

  "Sorry, my arm fell asleep," I lied, settling back down on the seat. Fixing things would have to wait.

  "Some tough girl," Anthony joked, applying the gun to my skin once again.

  "I could still take you with my arm tied behind my back," I answered as Emrys laughed in the background.

  I shut my remorseful thoughts away and focused on the conversation Emrys and Anthony had resumed. By the way they talked, it was obvious they'd know each other for a long time, which made me wonder what Anthony thought of his ageless friend.

  "How long have you guys known each other?" I decided to pry.

  "Since I was a snot-nosed kid. E here stopped my old man from cracking my head in with a bat when I was nine. I took plenty of beatings before he showed up, but something about him showing up that day changed everything. My dad never raised a fist to me ever again. Never talked to me much ever again either, but that was a welcome respite. You don't miss being called a snot-nosed asshole, I'll
tell you that. His silence was definitely welcome. It was like he was under some kind of mumbo-jumbo spell or something," Anthony answered.

  I knew exactly what that spell was. It started and ended with a certain Soul Trader. The mental image of Emrys going to the effort to save a human's life chased away some of the guilt that had sprung up inside me. Haniel and the others were wrong about him. Emrys wasn't working for The Dark One. He couldn't be.

  "Finished," Anthony said several minutes later, shutting off the tattoo gun.

  "Wow, you're quick," I said, sitting up.

  "I've heard that before," Anthony said, laughing.

  "I bet you have, old man," Emrys said, clapping him on the back.

  "At least I'm not forgettable," Anthony retorted, making me laugh.

  Emrys mockingly glared at us as he threw a slow punch Anthony's way.

  "You want to see your new beauty mark?" he asked, swatting Emrys's fist aside before it could reach his bicep.

  "Absolutely," I said, hopping up off the chair.

  "It's the prettiest succubus I've ever seen," Emrys teased, grinning at me.

  My fist shot out and hit him in his own bicep before he could even get the words fully out. The force of the blow made him stagger as he tried to keep his footing.

  "Damn girl, you are a freaking beast," Anthony said, studying me with open admiration.

  "Either that or your buddy E here is a lightweight pansy," I quipped, following Anthony out of the room.

  Laughing, Anthony handed me a hand mirror. "Here, you can check it out," he said, pointing me toward an entire mirrored wall I had missed earlier in the never-ending whiteness of the space. Turning my back to the mirrored wall, I held the hand mirror in front of me so I could see the reflection of my back. At first it was shocking to see my once pristine skin covered in ink, but that feeling evaporated almost before it could fully manifest as I took in the piece of art on my back. It was breathtaking.

  "Holy shit, Anthony, it's amazing," I said, not taking my eyes from my reflection.

  "The redness will go down in a couple days, possibly sooner since your skin really didn't pucker with irritation," he said, stepping in front of me.

  "Irritation?" I asked, dragging my eyes from the vibrant colors to study the slightly red skin surrounding the tattoo that I hadn't noticed before. He was right, it really wasn't that bad.

  "Sometimes the skin shows its disapproval by pinking up, but yours obviously took it quite well."

  "Everything comes to her naturally," Emrys said, joining Anthony in front of me. All joking was gone as he studied my face with admiration.

  "After the potshot she gave you in there, I'm guessing she's as unique as you, my friend," Anthony said, heading back to the tattoo room.

  "What do you think?" Emrys asked, stepping directly in front of me.

  "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," I said, glancing at in the mirror one last time.

  "Not me," Emrys said, taking the mirror from me. Without looking, he tossed it across the room with a flick of his wrist. It landed with a dull thud on the couch. The intensity of his stare made my pulse race like a runaway racehorse as he placed his hands on my sides. His fingers splayed across my bare skin igniting a fire inside me.

  "Why don't you do that tongue trick again now that I have you where I want you," he said as he leaned in to nip at my chin.

  "You mean this?" I asked, darting my tongue out to moisten my lips.

  He groaned slightly, running his hands up my sides, never taking his eyes from mine. His knuckles grazed the sides of my breasts as they continued their journey up my torso. They finally rested around my neck anchoring me into place. His eyes moved to my lips and I fought the urge to close the distance between us.

  Noise from the other room broke the spell as Anthony lumbered back into the main room and sealed the tattoo room back up with the heavy-duty door.

  "Get a room," Anthony muttered, settling back on the couch.

  "Ready to get out of here?" Emrys asked quietly, keeping me locked into place.

  "Yes, please," I said as he finally dropped his hands and stepped back.

  Tossing my shirt to me, he turned to Anthony. "Dude, I seriously owe you for this one," he said, reaching out to shake one of Anthony's bear-sized hands.

  "Not likely. I still owe you for keeping the old man away from me," Anthony said, making it clear that he was well aware that Emrys had played a crucial part in his father's mumbo-jumbo spell.

  "Hey, I did nothing," Emrys said, holding his hands up. "I've told you before, your dad must have seen the err of his ways," he added, laughing good-naturedly as he pumped Anthony's hand up and down.

  "Riiiiiiiiiight," Anthony replied. "Jordyn, it was a pleasure to give you your first beauty mark. Your skin is truly a gift from God," he said, holding out his massive hand for me to shake.

  "Thanks for doing a ridiculously awesome job," I said, pulling my shirt on carefully in case the irritated skin was sensitive.

  "The pleasure was all mine. Normally I'd slap a bandage over one of my new tat jobs, but like I said, your skin took to the ink like a duck to water. Just wash it thoroughly with a non-perfumed soap when you get home and make sure the skin doesn't dry out," he said, pulling himself up off the couch to follow us out.

  "Thanks again," I said, giving Anthony a quick hug that made him blush all the way from his buzzed head down his neck.

  "You come back and see me again. Next time come without this chump and we could have some real fun," he said, wagging his eyebrows at me suggestively.

  "Count on it," I answered, laughing as he closed the door behind him.

  "I like your friend," I said to Emrys as he reached for my hand.

  "He likes you too," Emrys replied as the dingy smelly alleyway disappeared around us.

  The hard ground beneath my feet was replaced by a substance that gave way when I moved. Squinting in the sudden sunshine, I looked down surprised to see I was standing on a beach. Everything about this beach was different than what I was used to. The sand beneath my feet was unlike any sand you'd find on the West Coast. It was sugar-fine and almost as white. Even the water was different than what I was used to. Instead of the normal breaks that the surfers liked to ride on back home, the water here was crystal clear and the waves that broke gently on the shoreline were minuscule to the waves back home.

  "Where are we?" I asked, turning around in a slow circle. I took in the line of palm trees behind us and the ocean that seemed to surround us.

  "A small island about fifty miles off of the coast of Tahiti," he said, sinking down on the sun-warmed sand. "It's my second favorite place to visit," he said, reaching up and tugging me down on the sand beside him.

  "Really?" I asked, taking in the quiet solitude of the island. It was as different as night and day from his perch on the Empire State Building.

  "It's peaceful," he said, lying back in the sand and closing his eyes, perfectly at ease.

  I wondered if he had forgotten about our near-kiss at Anthony's as I lay down beside him, closing my eyes also. Without opening his eyes, Emrys reached over and laced his fingers through mine. We lay there without speaking, cushioned by the soft sand beneath us, listening to the small waves gently crash on the shore. The warm sun on my face made me drowsy. I yawned heavily, realizing suddenly how exhausted I really was. I'd barely slept during the last forty-eight hours, coupled with the fact that I had traveled to three time zones in one day making my legs feel like they were incased in cement. I tried to fight off my drowsiness, but I couldn't help dozing off. Just before sleep pulled me completely under, I felt his lips on the pulse point of my wrist.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The sound of raised voices woke me from a deep sleep. I sat up disoriented, expecting to see the ocean in front of me, but instead I saw that I was in my own room. Emrys, of course, was nowhere to be found.

  "Damn him," I said, glancing at the clock on my nightstand table. It showed ten o'clock, and judging b
y the darkness outside, it was obviously the evening.

  I stood up and swung my legs off the bed. "Great," I grumbled, noticing the sand that now coated my bed sheets. My skin felt gritty from the layer of sand that still covered my arms. I brushed it off as best I could, and desperately needed a shower, but with the raised voices hitting a higher octave, it was probably best to face the music sooner than later.

  It was no surprise to see everyone in the living room when I entered. It's what they did in a crisis.

  Everyone looked my way at once, taking in my disheveled appearance. I probably should have at least run a brush through my hair before I made my grand entrance.

  "What happened to you?" Krista gasped, dragging me in for a tight hug before pulling back and wrinkling her nose in distaste. "You smell like seaweed. Where have you been?" she asked as her voice turned shrill. She was clearly pissed.

  "Just around," I said, not sure what to tell her. I'm sure getting a tattoo in Shanghai wouldn't go over well at the moment.

  "Jordyn?" Haniel commanded.

  "Haniel," I mocked him. "It sucks to be kept in the dark, doesn't it?" I said, working to ignore Krista's hurt expression.

  "Jordyn, that's enough," Mark said in a loud booming voice as he wrapped his arm around Krista. "We're all kept in the dark about some things, but that doesn't give you the right to disrespect us. We've bent over backward to welcome you into our home, and you repay us by mocking our rules and throwing our words back in our faces."

  His words cut me to the core. He had every right to be angry. My beef was with Haniel, not the Guides and Protectors. They'd all welcomed me in and treated me like I belonged, despite our differences.

  Worst of all was Lynn, who looked so conflicted, like she didn't know what to think about me at the moment. By snapping at Krista, I was hurting their whole group. That's how they worked. Lynn and I may be best friends, but her loyalty would always belong to those in her group. At that moment, I felt every bit the outsider that I was.