“I hate you,” I grumble.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” he shoots back.
“There’s a species of fungus that can turn ants into zombies,” I say, flexing my light-feeling, trembling arms.
He blinks. “Interesting, now atta—”
I don’t let him finish, kicking out the weight. A smile steals across my face as I watch the flash of surprise in his eyes before he moves out of the way. I throw my left fist to his face and he blocks it; a miniature approving smile flickering on his lips.
* * *
“It’s enough for today,” Nox says.
I groan, my hands falling to my knees. I’m properly trembling now from head to toe, my hair clinging to my forehead and my T-shirt sticking to my chest and back, the pale blue shirt tied around my waist. Nox is a surprisingly good teacher. I’ve learned more in the past couple of hours than I did during the full self-defense course; despite being distracted by his gorgeous royal grumpiness’ proximity. My heart leaped every time he touched me and the few times he locked me in a move that I had no escape from. Still, he kept his touches light and more distance than I am sure is normal. I tried not to think about why he’d shown such kindness.
“Why are you looking so, um, not sweaty and disgusting?” I demand, straightening, feeling achy all over.
Nox runs a hand through the heavy and shiny strands of his hair, giving me a better view of his biceps.
Hello, libido, please stop going into overdrive.
I shake my head, focusing.
“We may look like humans, but we are not,” he cautions. “Never forget that.”
I snort. “You guys don’t look like humans, you look like extremely hot photoshopped athletes or supermodels.”
Nox gives me a tired look. “We have a humanoid form, a digestive system that is similar enough to the standard, a heart. But ichor runs through our veins, we lack certain organs like the appendix and spleen and possess an extra organ or two. Similar, but different.”
“So no sweat glands,” I venture. He gives a short nod. “Ugh, not fair.”
“Yours will change the way they work, with time,” he says, approaching.
“What’s your real name?” I ask.
He blinks, and I’m pleased to see the surprise over the change of conversation topic.
“You know what my name is.”
“Again, I was drunk, and grieving, I do not remember,” I say, fighting down the tide of sadness that comes from remembering that night. “Nox is the name of your species, of demons.”
He keeps that maddeningly undisturbed facade.
“Calling you Nox is just as weird as if you called me Nephilim,” I insist.
I try not to squirm as he examines my eyes. “Nox is also a name.”
I clench my teeth, irked that he’s denying me something as basic as a name. He knows more about me than I’d want anyone to know. Hell, he knew my grandma.
“How about your Royal Grumpiness?” I grumble.
He steps closer, placing a hand on my waist. I try to maintain some distance; I need a shower.
“Incredibly unimaginative,” he says, and then we’re surrounded by the purple vortex.
I refuse to feel dizzy and step away from him as soon as we arrive at the penthouse balcony.
“Magnanimous pain in the ass?”
He arches a brow. “It takes one to know one.”
A flash of purple later, he’s gone.
“Idiot,” I grumble, feeling childish.
“But a sexy idiot, don’t you think?”
I jump and face Isir, my hands rising in front of me as a reflex. She smiles approvingly at my defensive stance.
“Uh, what?” I ask.
Isir arches a brow. “He might be an idiot, but he’s absolutely yummy. And I know you think so, too.”
Riiiiiight.
I frown ready to deny it but then notice her flushed cheeks, bright eyes, and the smell of what I can only describe as a mix of perfumes, female and male scents coming off her.
“Are you, erm, drunk?” I ask.
Isir shrugs. “Not anymore, not on liquor.”
I lick my dry lips. “On what then?” I ask warily.
She makes a small noise with the back of her throat. “Lust. One thousand times better.”
“Erm, nice,” I mumble, feeling my cheeks heat.
Isir chuckles, a small tingle runs down my spine at the flash of azure in her eyes. “You are a prude, we have to do something about that.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I retort, barely keeping the anger from my voice as I push past her inside, heading for my room.
I can hear her chuckle behind me.
* * *
Showers are heavily underrated. It takes me about an hour to scrub myself clean and use all the delicious smelling products I could find in the bathroom. Most come from glass or metal containers and are made from natural ingredients.
I’m getting dressed as my cell phone buzzes.
“Spencer,” I say with relief as I answer.
“Dinah,” he echoes. “Are you alright?”
I bite back a groan, there’s no way I can answer that question honestly.
“Perfectly fine,” I lie. “And you?”
He sighs. “Worried about you.”
“There’s no need.”
“The hell there isn’t, I need to see you,” Spence says, worry in his voice.
“Fine, when?” I ask. Even if I have to sneak away, I will see Spence.
“How about tonight? There’s this club Xander loves called Qetesh, ever heard of it?”
I bite my lip, suppressing a gasp. “Erm, I can be there. 8 PM?”
“Sounds good to me. Until then, babe,” Spence says.
I smile, relieved to hear his voice sounding casual again. “See ya.”
Suddenly the day feels brighter. I’ll see Spence, get a bit of normalcy into the madness that has become my life. My stomach rumbles loudly.
Sighing, I make my way to the kitchen, vigilantly looking for Isir, hating the part of me that’s unnerved by her behavior and what she said.
To my great relief, there’s cereal and milk. I devour a portion in record time and serve myself another, standing by the sink.
“I’m sorry.”
I turn, not startled this time by Isir’s voice. Her hair is wet and loose, she’s wearing a white tank top and jeans, no shoes.
“What for?” I ask in what I hope it’s a casual tone, playing with the soggy cereal.
She sighs. “For getting a bit pushy, it’s an unfortunate side effect of a night of, er, quenching my hunger.”
I look up at her; she looks uncomfortable.
“It’s okay, you’re not to blame for my prickliness with certain words,” I say, stuffing my face with cereal.
Isir gives a tight lip smile, passing beside me to the fridge. “That is not enough food, want some bacon and French toast?”
“Yes, please,” I say eagerly, discarding the cereal in the sink and sitting on a stool.
Isir gets the ingredients and utensils. Her shoulders are a bit tense. “I can tell you have many questions, ask all you want.”
“What if it makes you uncomfortable?”
Isir hums. “Uncomfortable questions are usually the most important, shoot.”
I take a deep breath. “What makes what you—erm, the way you feed different from what demons do?”
Isir flicks her chocolate eyes to meet mine. “I had imagined you’d wonder,” she bites her lip. “It’s as similar as it is different, both the way I feed and the way demons feed have the potential to be lethal.”
The smell of bacon starts to fill the room as Isir whisks eggs. I wait for her to continue.
“You see, all living beings have two different types of energy,” she explains. “Life-force, the one that’s physical, tangible, that grows with sexual desire and adrenaline, that’s even measurable by human methods. That is the one succubi and incubi
siphon, but it’s a renewable source. Humans usually need a good long nap and a few days of sluggishness to recover from a feeding. It’s like an intense hangover. Supernaturals like lycans and vampires are barely affected by it.”
She puts the French toast in a pan. The scent of eggs and butter makes my mouth water as it crackles.
“The second kind of energy is far more complex,” Isir says, meeting my eyes as she turns the bacon. “Soul-energy is even stronger, and it does not depend on the physical vessel to endure. It is also responsible for a being’s essence and personality. Once the mortal or immortal vessel dies or is destroyed it should return to the cycle of the universe, unless it is taken by stronger forces. As in being claimed by a god or consumed by demons.”
I frown, a spike of horror cutting through me. “Demons consume soul-energy, destroying a being’s soul, erasing them from existence?”
“Yes,” Isir confirms.
I swallow, feeling dizzy as I shake my head and look to the ceiling to regain my composure.
“Now, that isn’t always such a bad thing,” Isir says and my eyes snap back to hers.
“What? How can being deprived of a soul not be bad?” I almost scream.
Isir narrows her eyes, examining me. “Tell me, do you think all souls are pure? Do you think all beings are good deep down? Or do you think it’s possible for evil souls to exist?”
I blink. “I know evil people exist.”
Isir nods. “I will never deny that there are demons who seek mayhem and destruction, who take precious souls. However, most times they feed on the emotions of those with ill intent, it’s what normally draws them in.”
She organizes the plates and sits beside me. I’m still hungry, so I devour the tasty food as I mull over what she said.
“But, if demons are normally drawn toward wicked beings and feed on them,” I postulate, “doesn’t that make them, well, not exactly evil?”
Isir smiles. “Exactly. There is balance in everything. If evil souls weren’t consumed, or their existence cut off from the plane where most normal beings reside, mayhem would ensue.”
I eat, brow furrowed as my mind spins, incongruent images and words from holy books besieging me.
“So, what about all the myths and legends and holy texts that depict demons as foul, monstrous beings?” I press, my mouth stuffed with food.
Isir regards me levelly. “Most myths portraying demons as grotesque beings are tainted by human fear or Nephilim hate. However, as I’ve said, there are evil demons, the Nephilim or the Asteri usually take care of them if they cause enough damage to become a major concern.”
I notice her face twists into a grimace when she says the words Nephilim and Asteri.
“Why do you hate the Asteri and Nephilim?” I ask her”
Isir’s lips press into a thin line. “I do not hate all of them. But a large portion of them see demons and all other non-human beings as aberrations of nature and seek their destruction. Only Light Fae and a select few are excused from being included in their ‘deplorable’ grouping.” She shakes her head, her voice growing more emphatic, eyes shining. “The Nephilim have killed many innocent demons and half-demons, vampires, succubi, and lycans with the pretext of keeping humans safe from us—happily ignoring that humans are far from innocent, that they succeeded at destroying many supernatural species, that many more are at risk of extinction.”
My heart rate spikes, the confusing images, and ideas upending my mind.
“Sorry, I get a bit, well, emotional when discussing this topic,” Isir apologizes, running a hand through her raven hair.
“I don’t blame you,” I admit. “You’re talking about racial cleansing, it’s incredibly disturbing.”
She sighs. “Indeed, it is.”
We stay quiet for a while.
I stand to take the plates to the dishwasher, to keep my hands busy as my mind reels.
“Thanks for breakfast, you’ve given me loads to think about.”
Isir chuckles. “I’m certain you can manage it, you are incredibly smart.”
My cheeks heat. “I don’t know about that, but I’ll try not to go insane from all these revelations.”
Isir gives me a wry smile. “That sounds like a start.”
“I’ll, ah, be in my room, I have a lot of work to do.”
“Have fun,” Isir says.
CHAPTER 10
DINAH
My fingers are cramping up a bit, and the lines of code are getting fuzzy. I’m sitting on the floor facing the massive glass doors that lead to the balcony, one of them open to let the chilling breeze enter. Diving deep into coding and working on the many assignments and the big project has proven unable to fully distract me from the horrible truth Isir has unveiled.
The world is far more fucked up than I thought.
The alarm I’d set on my PC begins to beep, announcing 7:15 PM.
I close the laptop and get up, barely wincing from the pain in my thighs. Instead of getting worse, as I feared, the pain in my muscles has lessened considerably. And I feel strangely stronger.
So much so, I’ve broken two glasses and my toothbrush.
I have to take deep breaths and focus on staying calm to lock in the super-strength. As annoying as it was cleaning glass from the marble floor, I am excited to know I’ll have the strength to lift a car. Gods know I need it.
Quickly, I put on black, tight jeans, low-heeled boots, and a simple, yet expensive as hell looking white shirt. I open the door to my room and almost crash against Bryce.
“Going somewhere?” He asks with an amused look, taking a step back.
“Er, yes,” I square my shoulders. “I’m going to see a friend, he’ll be at Qetesh, and I won’t be persuaded not to go and meet him.”
Bryce flashes that dazzling smile of his. “And why would you be persuaded not to see him, Dinah? I am hardly your jailer, and neither is Nox. If you wish, I’ll even accompany you shopping.”
I cock my head as I examine him; he means it. “Gods no, I hate shopping,” I adamantly protest.
Bryce chuckles, sweeping his hand blithely toward the exit. “Shall we?”
I nod. “So, uh, do we have to go out on that monstrosity of a limo, I mean, it draws attention.”
“It also has a permit to park anywhere in the city,” he informs me as I follow him to the exit. “However, I suppose we can make an exception seeing as it is Saturday and all.”
“Thanks, something more discreet would be nice, a black Toyota will do.”
Bryce wrinkles his nose as we get in the elevator. He presses the parking lot button. “I shall fall dead before being seen driving a Toyota,” he vows loftily.
I snort. “Snob.”
“And proud.” He winks.
I bite my lip, a question snagging. “What are you?” I ask, the words escaping my lips.
I’ve been wondering since the first day I saw him.
He fixes me with a cryptic little smile. “That is a very rude question.”
My cheeks heat up. “Is it?”
The elevator opens, we walk out; I follow him as he walks, hands in the pockets of the black trousers I’m sure are worth more than a small car. He’s wearing a matching black jacket, white shirt with two open buttons.
“Indeed, it is,” he lightly chastises. “Never ask a supernatural ‘what are you’. We are people, not things.”
I flush violently, barely aware of the expensive cars as we walk. “Sorry.”
He chuckles. “No worries. And answering your question is a bit difficult, you see, my kind is nearly extinct, and we usually never reveal our true nature.”
“Oh.”
He doesn’t trust me; I realize. Just like Nox doesn’t.
“It would be much easier just to show you,” he offers, “and I might do that soon.”
I lift my eyes and give him a small smile. Why would he trust me? I’m a stranger. A stranger that apparently belongs to a species of racist gits.
“Our humb
le ride,” Bryce says, gesturing elegantly towards the car a few feet away from us.
I blink, astonished. “You have got to be kidding me, you call this thing less conspicuous?”
The is car painted jet black with a lightly metallic glow. It looks fierce and elegant, and it reminds me of sexy British spy movies.
Bryce grins. “It’s the limo,” he pats the hood of the car, “or my girl, choose.”
I shoot him an arch look. “What’s with men calling their vehicles girls?”
Bryce laughs as he takes out keys from his pocket and presses a button, then opens the door for me. “Because they are sexy, unique, and we can’t get our hands off them.”
He winks and I flush again. Dammit, I am a prude.
“What car is this, anyway?” I ask as he sits beside me and begins to maneuver us out of the parking lot.
Bryce hums. “It is disguised as an Aston Martin. But it was built by someone else. They create vehicles that run on small cold fusion reactors.”
My eyes widen. “Aren’t cold fusion reactors something humans are barely trying to crack?”
Bryce’s lips flicker. “Yep.”
“And this sexy beast is worth more than my entire scholarship,” I venture.
“About four times your scholarship,” he admits with a chuckle.
I purse my lips. “Okay, level with me, are you guys mobsters?”
Bryce laughs delightedly, eyes bright with mischief as he exits the parking lot, setting off at too much speed for my taste. I focus on his face.
“Nope. All our wealth is legit. Isir has Qetesh, I have a club in a nearby city, and Nox, well, let’s just say he has access to ridiculous amounts of precious stones.”
“But of course he does,” I grumble. “And you do know I know that’s not his real name.”
“Indeed,” Bryce says, slightly serious.
“And I suppose you won’t tell me his real name.”
Bryce winks. “You are correct.”
I sigh and focus on the front instead of my handsome, infuriating chauffeur.
* * *
Qetesh is crowded by the time we arrive. The giant sign bathes the street in crimson light. A long line of customers waiting to enter held back by two giant bouncers, one with short red hair, another with tanned skin, and a shoulder-length mane of glossy raven hair. Both are about six-foot-six and built like gladiators.
Demon Warden: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy (The Cursed and the Fallen 1) Page 10
