Donny shook his head.
“Lumpalumpas?”
“The lumentum. The Burden of the Beast. In the old stories, the more feras drawn into the Carus, the more at risk the Carus is to losing the struggle against the beast. When they draw too many in, they go crazy, lose control, and submit to the beast inside them.”
“And how do they die?”
“In the past, it’s been villages of farmers using their pitchforks.” He peered at me over the book. “If you lose your struggle, at least you’ll have a quicker, tidier death.”
“Unless the SRD retrieves me.”
“There is that. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
“Why on earth would they do it then? The others. Why draw in more feras? It’s hard enough with three. I couldn’t imagine having more voices in my head.”
“Because it’s the key to learning control.”
“You’ve completely lost me now.”
“Just as you can absorb additional feras, you can expel them from your body as well.”
“I can kick them out?” When I was younger, I had three horrific roommates that took advantage of my desire to be the ultimate people pleaser. They ate my food, ignored my requests for their share of the utilities, didn’t clean up, stole my shoes and had massive raging parties where undoubtedly I’d walk in on someone doing the nasty in my bed. I never managed to kick them out. I avoided the entire confrontation by finding my own place.
“Yes. And it is said, once you have mastered this control, the beast is yours to command.”
I squinted at the old man. “And how many of my Carus brethren have succeeded in this in the past?”
“None that I’ve heard of.”
“Wonderful. So it’s all conjecture?”
Donny shook his head. “No. It is known. Feradea spoke, so it is so.”
“Spoke to you personally?”
Donny smiled more to himself than me and went back to reading the archaic book in front of him. I wanted to shake him for answers.
“Ouch!” I leapt out of my seat. Clutching my ankle, I glared down at Ma.
Leave the old man alone, he growled.
I did as he asked and limped out of the room, wondering how the heck I would juggle new and old feras with everything else already on my plate. Was I fated for the crazy house? Now it seemed more like a question of “when” instead of “if.” Inevitable.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Common sense is not so common.”
~Voltaire
“Andrea,” Clint crooned into the phone. “Have you finished your dirty dancing so soon? And here I thought you’d put it off as long as possible.”
I shuddered. Not yet, and there had to be a way around it. “You have a mole in your horde.” I trusted Clint wouldn’t betray Lucien. As human servant number one, his life was tied tighter to the Master Vampire than mine.
A long heavy silence. “Who?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve been ‘outed.’ The SRD knows about the blood bond and they have tape recordings of Lucien. Has to be someone in his inner circle.”
“How do you figure?”
“Lucien doesn’t strike me as the suck and tell type.”
“We’ll deal with it.”
“You’d better.”
Another long pause. If I were a skilled surgeon and opened Clint’s mind, it would probably look something like the game Mouse Trap.
“What were the recordings?” he asked.
“They only played one, but claimed to have more. In the recording I heard, Lucien says something like, ‘if that little tart thinks she can run from her blood bond, Agent McNeilly will have a hard lesson to learn.’ For the record, I resent the tart comment.”
Clint released a long breath with a chuckle. He paused before saying, “Were you fired?”
What the hell? He sounded concerned. Was something wrong with my phone? Interference, maybe? I examined my screen and discovered five bars—perfect reception. Huh.
“Nope,” I said. “I’ve been promoted. You may refer to me as Ambassador McNeilly now.” My mountain lion preened.
Clint grunted. “Ambassador of what?”
“SRD and Vampire relations. I’m the liaison between Lucien and the government. Agent Booth will contact Lucien to mete out the details and come to a finalized agreement. I want a raise.”
A pause. Pretty sure I heard the mouse traps snapping on the other end of the phone. “This is good.”
“Well, I’m a bit bummed I don’t get to kick ass anymore.”
Clint’s voice dropped. “I’m sure something can be arranged to meet your needs.”
I shook my head. He was a walking innuendo. “What I need is a shower. Talking to you makes me feel dirty.” Realizing how he could take it, I quickly yelled into the phone. “And not in a good way!”
Clint laughed and hung up without saying goodbye.
****
In the past, before Dylan, when something positive happened in my life, I’d go out, get drunk, find the hottest single man in the bar, and make out. Having animal magnetism had its advantages. I could literally have my pick. Replaying my actions, I realized I would’ve been a certified slut if not for the pathetic reality good things didn’t occur often in my life.
It didn’t stop me from wanting certain things. My cat prowled in my head and my wolf paced. The falcon didn’t do much. She screeched at really inappropriate times. All of them told me the same thing—it had been a long time since I’d been with a man, too long. All animals required physical release. I substituted my needs with SRD assignments, but now my role had changed.
So when I walked up to my building and saw Tristan leaning against the banister, he may as well have been chocolate with a bow wrapped around him.
Want, my cat purred. My own thoughts echoed hers. Want.
Tristan tilted his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. He strolled over to me. His hand flashed up, and he ran his fingertips down the side of my face. I wanted to turn my head and capture them with my mouth, but before I could, his head dipped into the crook of my neck and inhaled deeply. “I want you, too.”
Oh god! I’d said that out loud.
The scent of arousal sprung up from both of us and mingled thick in the air like marble cake mix. Tristan slipped his hands into my hair and gently tugged my face to meet his. Soft lips pressed against mine. Too soft, too gentle. I answered his kiss with an aggressive one of my own, pushing him back against the railing.
As if my rough response gave the permission he wanted, Tristan gripped my hair, pulled my head to the side, and deepened the kiss. His tongue plunged in and stroked against mine, sending lightning bolts down my body, pooling heat in every crevice.
He snatched the keys from my hand. I gave him enough time to unlock and open the building’s front door before I attacked him again. We stumbled and fumbled our way down the hall, bouncing off the walls, before we staggered into my apartment.
Tristan gripped my ass and pulled me to him. His erection rubbed against me and tingling waves flooded to my body. Sweeping my feet from under me, in a move more martial arts than boudoir savvy, he had me pinned on the floor beneath his exquisite weight. I pulsated with need.
Off. These clothes need to be off. I ripped his shirt and encircled his torso with my legs, holding him tight. My hands glided over every inch of his exposed skin.
I licked his neck and bit his ear. He tasted of salt and soap. A rising need overwhelmed me. Nerve endings sang with desire. I hadn’t felt this good with a man since…since Wick.
The name, once remembered, acted like a cold wet cloth to the face. No, more like a bucket of ice water over the head. I pushed against Tristan’s chest. “Stop.”
He pulled back with wide eyes. “I thought you were with me.”
“I was. I am. I just…”
Tristan tilted his head. His nose flared, and he sat back with a hiss, pulling me up with him. “Feel guilty?”
“I don’t think
it’s right for me to let this go further when I haven’t made a decision.” What the fuck is wrong with me? Lucien could order Wick to do very bad things to me anytime he wanted. Was there really a decision left to be made?
My mind said no, but my heart said yes.
Gah!
Tristan nodded and then looked away. His jaw clenched and burnt cinnamon wafted off his skin. He said, “I thought from your…aggressiveness, you’d made your decision.”
He stood up before I could read his expression and retrieved his shirt. But I didn’t need to see his face. Bitter disappointment bogged down his usual citrus and sunshine scent. He fastened what buttons remained, but it fell open at his navel.
Lick, my cat demanded. God, how I wanted to.
I ran a hand through my hair and stood up. Where was my shirt? I glanced down at my exposed bra, breasts swelling and almost spilling out of the cups. Tristan followed my gaze and licked his lips.
“Better put this on before I rethink the whole gentleman angle.” He tossed my shirt at me. No idea where he found it. I swiped it out of the air and slipped into it. It hung off my shoulders in rags. I glared at Tristan.
“Don’t look at me.” He smirked. “You were the one eager to get out of it.”
I grunted and pulled the material across my chest. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Does it come with an explanation?”
“And an apology.”
Tristan paused and scrutinized my face, as if he considered my apology and whether to accept it. I held my breath. Then his muscles relaxed, and a small smile creased his face. I released the pent-up air. He didn’t run for the door; instead, he found his way to the couch.
“An apology isn’t necessary,” he said. “I’m disappointed, but I’m glad you stopped us. When I have you, there will be no regrets. No scent of guilt.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, making me super-duper-happy with a cherry on top. I made small talk until the coffee finished. As if sensing my need for space, or maybe in need of some himself, Tristan stayed in the living room, sprawled on my couch.
“I came to ask you about the Demon summoning. If you haven’t done it yet, I wanted to offer to be there with you.” Tristan accepted the coffee mug from me. “Thought you could use the support.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping it would dampen the need to jump him. Geez, my hormones had a mind of their own.
“You all right?”
“Yup.” I sat down, unsure of my control. “Thanks for the offer, but I need to face this alone.” I didn’t tell him it would be the second time summoning Sid, or what I’d pay for the information. It probably wouldn’t go over so well. Tristan might understand my predicament with him and Wick, but he was an Alpha, and my indecisiveness would be ripping him up inside. Add a horny Demon to the mix? Alphas could only rein back their dominant animals so much. I didn’t want a rabid Wereleopard hauling me to his den for my “safety.” I needed information from Sid.
“You sure? I could watch from the sidelines.”
“Thank you, but no.” The less people who witnessed my humiliation, the better.
Tristan’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t press the issue. We talked about the attack at Lucien’s and the master’s pissy mood. After Tristan finished his coffee, checked his watch, and left with a chaste kiss on my cheek. He promised to call.
It took every ounce of control not to pounce on him and drag his fine feline ass to my bedroom. But I could only hide my feelings about the Demon summoning for so long, and if Wick or Tristan ever found out about my plans to strip and jiggle for one of the damned, my decision might be made for me—instead of two men, I’d have none.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Dance for me.”
~Sidragasum
Whenever I envisioned a life or death situation where the heroine fought against all odds to save her loved ones, my thoughts filled with guns, hordes of enemies, blood, guts, and some badass combat moves. Never a bedazzled thong.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ben asked while sprinkling the salt line. I’d been right. He was strong enough to summon a Demon on his own and didn’t need his den of Witch Novices to help. Score one for me. I didn’t want an audience for this.
No longer able to vocalize assent for what I was about to do, I nodded and clutched my robe closer to my body. “You know the drill?” I managed to croak.
Ben glanced up through his plain blond hair. “Summon and get lost? Yeah. You only repeated yourself a dozen times or so.”
I waited.
Ben rolled his eyes. “And tell no one.”
“If I ever hear about this…” My voice trailed off in a threat.
“Yeah, yeah. Bodily harm and dismemberment. I remember.”
Nodding more to myself, I looked around my living room.
“Andy, look.” Ben straightened his lean frame. “It’s about an hour until dawn. The sun will automatically banish him to the demonic realm when it rises. Make sure you specify the length of time. You will dance for him until he’s fully fed from your energy or fifteen minutes before dawn, whichever comes…I mean, occurs…first. The remaining time is for him to answer your question.”
Ben walked over and clasped my hands in his. Though I was often naked around other supes, if I extended my arms, my robe would open. Ben was uncomfortable enough. He’d asked if I’d wear something for the summoning, three times. He also thought Demon feeding involved masturbation, despite telling him it didn’t, three times. So I kept my arms stiff and bent, like a deformed T-rex, as Ben grasped my hands.
“Remember to make him take a blood oath to make good on your agreement.”
My body trembled against my will.
The air stirred as the portal drew power from the energies around us and started to form. A current circulated the room and whipped my hair around and brushed over my exposed skin.
“I knew you were good enough to say all that crap in your head,” I said.
“I am.” Ben turned and gave me an I’m-the-big-dawg look. “The chanting is for show.”
The portal snapped in place. The tiny hairs on my forearms sprung up as the Demon’s portal snapped open and the large imposing figure of Sidragasum appeared in the centre of the circle.
“I’ll be outside if you need me. The circle is strong enough to hold him.” Ben cast a wary look my way. “Don’t get caught up in the moment and step over it. At least not until he swears a blood oath to do you no harm.” Even if he did, another supe’s idea of harm could vary greatly from my own. Something I learned from Lucien.
I growled over my shoulder at Ben’s retreating back. It looked a little shaky, as if he chuckled on his way out. I might have to beat him up anyway.
Sid coughed lightly to get my attention.
I turned slowly to the Demon waiting patiently in the summoning circle.
“Little Carus.” The Demon’s sly grin greeted me. “I had a feeling we’d meet again.”
Biting my bottom lip, I examined Sid’s naked form, all seven feet of tanned olive skin, unsure of how to continue. At least he was hot; it would be harder to strip for a Frankenstein doppelgänger.
“I take it from the lack of blood in the circle, you’ve chosen option A?” he said.
Taking a deep breath, I spoke the agreement parameters Ben made me memorize. It sounded more like a business agreement, words strategically placed to allow no wiggle room, misinterpretation, or deliberate evasion. Sid looked amused, but when I finished, he nodded and without any comment, slit his palm open by drawing one long yellowed claw along it.
“By my blood, I agree to these terms and swear to uphold my end of the bargain.” His blood pooled on his upturned hand until it slid off and fell to the floor in large thick drops. If tonight didn’t go well, the forensics team would have a hard time with the blood spatter analysis.
I shifted one fingernail into a long mountain lion claw and repeated the process. Sid’s nose flared as the scent of my blood reached him.
He licked his lips.
“And I thought it would be my dancing to give you a hard-on.” I evaded Sid’s gaze and decided the safest place to look was the ceiling.
“Little Carus,” Sid crooned. “You have no idea what a treat a dance from one of the gods’ chosen is to me, to all Demons. The very idea makes me hard.” He reached down to emphasize his point.
Refusing to look to where Sid’s hand drifted, I clicked the docking station remote and turned on the music I’d selected. Heavy bass filled the room as I dropped the robe and started to move.
“Oh yes, little Carus.” Sid’s smile spread slowly. His eyes twinkled. The scent of almond swirled around as the music consumed me. The animal magnetism I usually kept tightly reined in released, flooding the air with potent pheromones. I planned to use all my talents to my advantage so this would end sooner than later. My feras took control, swaying and gyrating to the rhythm in a dance as old as time. I tried to forget I had an audience, and tried not to notice how Sid’s body tensed and his head fell back as he fed off my sexual energy. His voice laced through the notes of the song. “Dance for me.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“It’s hard to be humble when you’re as great as I am.”
~Muhammad Ali
As it turned out, the appetite of a Demon was not a thing of legends—it was very, very genuine. Or my dancing really, really sucked. Being the dancer in question, I preferred to think the former more fitting. I couldn’t be that bad. It took Sid the Demon a long time to finish feeding.
“Does none of this embarrass you?” I asked after he’d moaned and proclaimed himself full.
“Why would it? We’re sexual beings. This is as natural as ice caps on the mountain melting to cold spring water or birds migrating south for the winter. Why soil the experience with such negative emotions?”
Huh. A poetic Demon?
“You have a question, little Carus, and your time runs short. Ask.”
I pulled my gaze away from the naked Demon. “There have been a number of attacks by humans on supes these last couple of weeks. The attackers don’t have red eyes like those typically possessed. Their irises are their regular colour, but they glow. I want to know what Demon is responsible, how they are controlling the humans, and why they’re doing it.”
Beast Coast (A Carus Novel Book 2) Page 17
