Demon Warden: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy (The Cursed and the Fallen 1)

by Selene Kallan

  Carson snorts. “But men don’t have the right to change, do they? Or the right to have their private views on delicate matters. This could become a weapon, this thing could be used to destroy carers!”

  I try to remain calm. “All technology can be used for evil, but I have made sure the code is iron clad and can’t be corrupted to do more than it’s meant to do. And I simply want people, male, female, or alien to know what they’re getting themselves into. How many have died because they didn’t know their partners had killed someone? Or raped someone? Or are narcissistic psychopaths?”

  Carson takes a step closer to me, I resist the urge to back down. “You don’t get to judge who people are based on pseudo-psychological analysis and some ranting posts.”

  “I am not doing that,” I argue, shy of snarling. “I am providing people with options, with an inkling of knowledge of the person they might take to their apartments after dinner.”

  Carson clenches his teeth. “You will not go public with this.”

  I take a step towards him, forcing him to crane his neck to keep eye contact. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

  He smiles with malice. “But I do, if you launch that app I will make sure the University expels you before we can get sued by the innocent people you’re going to harm with your misguided prejudice.”

  My nostrils flare, I can feel the itch in my eyes and refuse to let the tears form.

  Carson addresses the class. “Who of you agrees with me?”

  Aside from Amy and a lanky kid with glasses whose name I’m not sure of, they all raise their hands.

  My stomach churns. I feel humiliated.

  “Now, Novak, you have two options,” Carson says, satisfied with the support. “You can create a new project, one that’s useful instead of pathetic and harmful, or you can be a college dropout, which will it be?”

  I unplug my laptop and rush to get my things. Not daring to say a word, knowing I’ll most likely curse him into the next week.

  “Not surprising,” Carson mocks as I storm out of the classroom.

  * * *

  It takes me a few minutes to calm down enough to go out and look for Bryce. He’s reading a book, leaning against the hood of the limo. As soon as he sees me, his eyes go wide. “Dinah, darling, what happened?”

  I shake my head, feeling small. “I don’t want to talk about it, please.”

  Bryce purses his lips and examines me. “Okay, what do you want to do?”

  “Get incredibly shit-faced,” I say, knowing it’s true as soon as I say it.

  Bryce nods. “I think we can manage that.”

  He opens the door for me and I climb inside, pushing away my bag, not wanting to look at it, and cave into the desire to pulverize my laptop.

  “If you need me to kick someone’s arse…” Bryce says as he drives us out.

  I shake my head.

  “I can watch you kick whoever’s arse then, I’ll cheer,” Bryce suggests.

  I sniff-laugh. “Tempting, you have no idea of how much, but maybe I’m in the wrong, I don’t know anymore.”

  “Hmm, well, I’m right here if you want a second opinion,” Bryce says seriously.

  I give him a wobbly smile. “Thank you. Maybe when I’m at least a bit drunk.”

  Bryce winks. “Your wish is my command.”

  * * *

  I lean my head back and close my eyes. I feel like I’m spinnigspinningspinning, and it’s wonderful and confusing. The music is just the perfect amount of loud, not enough to give me a headache but enough to drown my thoughts. Qetesh is alive with all sorts of people, vibrating in a careless, sensual, thrilling frequency that lulls me.

  “I will not puke, nope,” I say, feeling my head lolling and landing on a warm shoulder. The owner of the shoulder laughs and I burrow closer to the delicious musky-flowery scent and body heat.

  “I sure hope you don’t, I like this sofa,” Isir says.

  My nose lands in the crook of her neck. “You must have things to do, important things.”

  She caresses my arm; I discarded my shirt a while ago and stayed in just my tank top.

  “I have nowhere to be but right here, sitting next to my very drunk friend who will not puke on me.”

  I giggle. Fae wine does funny things to my system. For once, I’m pleasantly drunk, and I feel light, free, happy.

  “I like you, Isir,” I say.

  Isir continues her soft caress. “I like you, too, Dinah.”

  I hum contentedly and let my forehead rest against her pulse, my nose brushes her collarbone. “But not like that, I mean, I sort of do. I think you’re attractive but I don’t wanna have sex. Though I no longer think I’d mind having sex with a female, quite the opposite. Maybe I should take upon Lisa’s offer, she’s hot and for some weird reason likes me. But that wouldn’t be fair to her. I’m dangerous to be around and I don’t want to just hook up with someone to try to forget the fact that I’m attracted to an idiot who refuses to tell me his name. And I like you as a friend, and friends don’t have sex, right?”

  My eyes snap open. Did I just say all of that out loud? I pull back slowly peering at Isir, she’s biting her lip hard, but it’s futile. She’s grinning like a cat.

  I groan, covering my face in shame.

  Isir’s eyes are bright with amusement. “You have no reason to be embarrassed, Dinah. I am glad you’ve come to terms with your sexuality, and I agree with you, I think our relationship is best without sex.”

  I feel like hiding again, but her steady gaze keeps me from cowering away.

  “Now, who is Lisa?” Isir gushes.

  “Technological disaster zillenial, feminist, goth, hot, I was an idiot,” I say, knowing I’m not making much sense.

  Isir pulls me into a half hug again, and I don’t resist her. “You were right about not getting into a relationship to try to forget a certain idiot. I’ve been there. It doesn’t work and you’ll get more pain than pleasure out of it.”

  I sigh. “Yeah, I figured. Don’t tell him, please.”

  Isir lets out a little growl. “I won’t, I’m not speaking to him right now.”

  I nod and close my eyes, snuggling into Isir again, she resumes the soft caresses, and it feels so right. Before Spence, I used to feel awkward with the idea of being so physical with a friend, but he’d changed my mind.

  “If it makes you uncomfortable, then you don’t have to, babe,” he’d said, “but if it comforts you, then why deny it to yourself? We all need to be platonically cuddled and touched sometimes.”

  He was so, so right, I think, feeling my body relax against Isir’s.

  The sofa dips beside me and I reluctantly stretch a bit, meeting Bryce’s eyes, they’re sparkling a bit and he looks happy and completely debauched. His scent is stronger and mixed with another delicious musky smell.

  “Bryce and Derek sitting on a tree,” I chant, “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

  Both Bryce and Isir laugh.

  “Oh gods, Isir, how much wine has she drank?” he asks.

  “Almost a full bottle,” Isir responds.

  “I still feel too sober,” I complain, reaching for the bit of wine left in the bottle and drinking from it until there’s not a single drop left. Both are looking at me with thinly veiled concern. For a moment I imagine them to be my parents, and I giggle and then laugh. But then I remember I have no parents and I lost my grandma and my chest aches so violently I stop at once. My eyes prickle and a small sob escapes me.

  “Right, time to go sleep it off,” Bryce says.

  “But I’m not drunk enough,” I protest.

  “Yes, you are,” Isir says.

  I let them pull me to a standing position and sway a bit. They keep me steady until we exit; I tilt my head back and breathe in the cool night air.

  “Make sure she drinks a glass of water before going to bed,” says Isir.

  “I have ears, you know?” I protest. “You two are very rude.”

  Both Isir and Bryce laugh.
/>
  “See you later, get some rest,” Isir says, kissing my cheek.

  “Okay,” I mumble, allowing Bryce to guide me inside the limo and help me lie down.

  “Repeat after me,” says Bryce. “No puking on the very expensive leather seat.”

  I hear my voice like I’m behind glass and Bryce laughing before everything goes black.

  NOX

  I take a deep breath, hand on the knob of the front door to the penthouse. My stomach feels leaden with guilt and irritation. Isir is refusing to speak to me more than necessary, and I know she won’t budge until I apologize to Dinah for being a cretin.

  It’s not that I’ve never apologized before. But for some reason, the idea of looking into those silver eyes and seeing hurt and rejection makes my tongue feel heavy. I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a faint headache building.

  This is ridiculous, I scold myself and enter.

  Bryce’s life force is pulsing steadily and laced with lazy desire, he’s been with someone tonight, Derek maybe. He’s fast asleep on the sofa, half of his legs hanging from the armrest. Another life-force pulses with chaotic, unchecked power nearby. I walk to Dinah’s door and knock, swallowing hard and steeling myself.

  There’s no response.

  And her energy is not precisely in the room.

  I open the door and step inside; the sheets are a mess and there’s an open bag full of clothes right by the drawer.

  At least she’s not planning on running away tonight.

  “Hoooooooow can you see into my eyes, like open doooooors!” someone sings loudly and slightly off-key. In less than a blink, I’m out on the balcony, looking towards the rooftop and spotting her. I’m portalling before the thought is formed, and stand beside her in a heartbeat. Her golden hair is a wavy crazy mess, cheeks flushed an attractive shade of pink. I try not to notice her body, barely hidden by an oversize white shirt with several open buttons.

  “Leading you down into my core, where I’ve become so numb!” she sings.

  “Dinah, what on earth are you doing?” I ask, readying my hands to grab her before she falls.

  She whips her head around to face me, silver eyes wide with surprise. “Singing, obviously.” Her orange-lavender-sunlight scent is mingled with the aromas of toothpaste and the faintest trace of Fae wine.

  “Right, would you mind not doing that on the rooftop, twenty storeys up from the ground?” I ask.

  She purses her lips. “I’m mad at you, I remember now.”

  She glares and stomps away to the other end of the rooftop, climbing onto the ledge with a graceful jump and continuing with the song. A shiver runs down my spine when she gets to the part of not having a soul.

  I know I can grab her even if she does fall, physically or with a spell. But the urge to carry her, take her to bed, tuck her in, and keep her safe is strong, bordering on insane.

  Taking a steadying breath, I approach her. Her chaotic life-force, soul-light, and energy flare with the strength of a small sun. Were it not for the wards around the building, any demons in a ten-mile radius would be alerted to her presence.

  “Dinah, would you come down, please?” I ask, trying to keep the exasperation from my voice.

  She turns swiftly and faces me, hands on her hips. “Is it illegal to sing now? Buzz off, you’re mean and you are grumpy and sexy.”

  I blink.

  Her hands fall from her hips. “I didn’t mean to say out loud the last part, forget I said it.”

  “You can sing from somewhere safer,” I insist.

  She snorts. “Like you care about what happens to me, you’d be relieved if I fell and went splat. That way you’d be free from your promise and from having to take care of my Nephilim ass.”

  A sharp pain crosses my chest as I remember her broken and crying out in pain, the day Kazzian almost killed her.

  I could never want that. Even if it would set me free of the feelings that I wish I could rid myself of.

  “You would not go splat, you would have many broken bones and need a long sunbath, but you would not die.”

  Dinah frowns. “That is very, very…”

  “What?” I ask.

  “Weird, and scary. What if I get tired of being alive?” her eyes are so earnest, so frightened.

  A wave of panic rises inside me.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I’m sorry for behaving like a bastard, you were right about me being just as prejudiced.”

  That distracts her. “Am I hallucinating?” she asks.

  “No, now would you come down?” I reach a hand out to her. She looks at it with deep suspicion and turns, opening her arms wide and flapping a bit. Isir has a lot to answer for.

  “I wish I could fly, fly high like a bird and touch the clouds,” Dinah says, sighing and swaying slightly.

  “You can, you will, Nephilim have wings too. I’m sure you’ll get yours when your power grows stronger.”

  She spins around to face me so fast she almost loses balance. My stomach makes an uncomfortable swop.

  “Really?” she asks, eyes round and innocent.

  “Really, now will you come down, please?” I insist, reaching out my hand to her.

  Dinah purses her lips and then slides her palm on mine.

  I pull her towards me with more strength than I thought, and she collapses against my chest.

  She giggles and holds onto my shoulders, her chest flushed against mine. “Had you done that a while ago, I’d have puked all over your fancy suit.”

  “I’ll have a word with Isir about not letting you around Fae wine,” I grumble.

  Dinah scowls and tries to push me, but I’m holding her full weight, her feet aren’t touching the floor. We sway a bit. Her strength has grown exponentially, to my great relief.

  “Hey! I can get drunk whenever I want, you don’t get to tell me what to do. I had a shitty day, and I needed it. Who are you, my mother?” her brow is furrowed and her hands are balled on my shoulders.

  “Drinking yourself silly is not a good way of dealing with your problems,” I argue.

  Dinah snorts. “Oh, because you know all about that, don’t you? Admit it, dude, we are both fucked up.”

  She’s right, me more than her, but I won’t argue. I can feel her heart beating hard against mine. Her powerful, blinding golden aura bathes us both and warms, melts something that was frozen and hard inside my chest. My energy wants to meet hers, and I have to use all my self-control to prevent it from happening. My arms close more securely around her waist. A selfish part of me never wants to let go.

  Dinah sighs and I inhale her minty-herby-sweet breath.

  “Why must you be so beautiful, intriguing, and occasionally good to me?” she asks, her voice is so sad and her eyes so clear. “It would all be easier if I didn’t like you.”

  I swallow hard and close my eyes, hiding like a coward from the hurt and the desire in that too-earnest silver gaze.

  Soft lips caress my cheek, and my eyes snap open. I lose myself in moonlight pupils that spark with golden and feel the heat that pours out of Dinah wrapping around my heart. Hunger, desire, and something stronger, riskier that I’m not ready to accept mix in such a violent cocktail inside me I feel my legs slightly unsteady.

  Dinah murmurs eight words in Asteri (I think I’m falling in love with you) that freeze me to the spot. I barely have a second to lower my head so her plump lips press against my cheek again and not my mouth. Steeling myself, I allow my lips to graze the warm spot between her jaw and ear, whispering my apology again, feeling sweet relief as she nods in acknowledgment.

  I don’t know what I’m apologizing for anymore. There are too many reasons.

  Wordlessly, I take her in arms, and she doesn’t resist, her head against my shoulder and her small frame—compared to mine—feels so right against me. I portal us back to her room and do what I’d wanted to a few minutes before. She gazes at me with hazed and tired eyes as I tuck her in, a half-smile on her lips.

  “Rest, I�
��ll get you a potion for the hangover,” I promise.

  Dinah turns on her side, reaching for my hand, I don’t resist her. “Okay.”

  Feeling like a thief, I lean down and brush a kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight.”

  “Night,” she mutters and closes her eyes, her breathing deepening at once.

  I stand, even though every cell in my body wants to lay beside her. Carefully, I remove her necklace and reinforce the shielding spells. She makes a content little hum when my fingers brush her neck as I put it back in place.

  She deserves better, much better. But greed runs deep within my species, and I can’t remember craving someone more than I want Dinah Novak in all my five centuries of existence.

  CHAPTER 20

  DINAH

  “Bad Dinah,” I groan as I open my eyes. The morning light is too bright and my mouth is dry. The headache isn’t half as bad as others I’ve had before. I don’t want to move, but my bladder firmly disagrees, the selfish bastard. With another groan, I sit, laying a hand on the nightstand for support, and almost knock over a bottle with a clear liquid. I pop the cork and sniff. It smells like cool water, sunshine, mint, and not wine, so I gulp it down in record time. A wave of sheer relief blossoms from my chest down to my toes and up to my head, quelling the ache. I feel startlingly awake and refreshed.

  I smile for a second and then remember.

  “Oh no, oh no no no,” I mutter, horrified.

  Did I really sing Bring me to Life loudly and off-key from the rooftop? Maybe it was just a dream, a hallucination. I look down and see the white-oxford shirt I stole from Spencer with only four fastened buttons and beg, beg to probably nonexistent gods that they’ve opened with all the tossing and turning I did last evening. Because otherwise, I practically flashed Nox last night.

  “Oh dear gods, no more wine, never again.”

  My head falls on my hands and I close my eyes, feeling the ghost of perfect lips graze my cheek, my ear, my forehead, hearing his deep, velvety voice saying he was sorry. Remembering what it felt like to be wrapped in his embrace, in the dark, the tempting pull of his power.