by Sunny
All the lies Hari had believed—that she was not of the High Lord’s blood but a bastard child foisted on him; that she was not truly drakon . . . the only other thing in this existence that meant anything to him, other than himself—all these lies were proven false.
Hari had treated Lucinda as he did any others not of dragon blood, with sneering disrespect. He flushed, remembering the way he had crudely propositioned her, and how furiously angry he had been when she had spurned him, and how, only by Ruric’s intervention, he had not damned himself further. Only now did he feel the bite of shame. Before, she had been just another female piece of meat to him, and one too hoity-toity for her bastard blood. Now she was not only the proven High Lord’s true daughter, she was the last precious female dragon of their kind.
Why had she allowed him to be one of her guards?
Hari pondered that frequently. He knew she didn’t fully trust him; rightfully so. Even Ruric, with his hulkish, brutal ugliness, fit in better than he. Ruric was fiercely loyal to the High Lord, whereas Hari had served the High Lord because he had been the most powerful, most deadly demon; and because he had been the last full-blooded drakon.
Hari’s musing came to an abrupt halt as Stefan’s eyes intercepted his from across the cabin, with Lucinda’s sleeping form softly draped against him. As their gazes locked, Hari wondered what the Monère saw on his face. Threat? Challenge? Or safety and protection?
A polite acknowledging nod from the former rogue, and their eyes broke apart. Despite himself, Hari felt grudging respect rise up in him for the other warrior. An ingratiating smile, any gesture of eager friendliness on the Monère’s part, would have lowered the other man in the demon’s esteem. The slight nod had been a gesture of respect from one equal to another. And he had broken eye contact before it could turn into a dominance challenge. Lucinda had entrusted her heart to a smart man.
Had Hari been a better man—a better demon—he would have been happy for her. But he wasn’t. Because being with Lucinda, being with them, somehow made him want to be more. To be better.
It was something either to laugh at . . . or weep over.
FOUR
THE HOME COMING WASN’T as bad as I thought it would be. It was worse. As the two taxis that had brought us here drove away, I tried to see the place like someone seeing it for the first time might view it. Unfortunately, I had a very easy time doing so. It looked dismal and depressing. Abandoned, uncared for.
The house was a nondescript brown composed of tan vinyl siding, some shutters hanging crookedly, and a brown tile roof. A simple rectangular box like most of the properties in the area, ranch-style, single level. Not as butt-ugly as some in the area, but no real beauty either.
Only the scattered green of a few juniper and piñon trees broke up the drab landscape. During the day, the vivid blue sky would add dramatic color, but now at night there was not much to brighten the sparseness of the land.
Making my way to the nearest tree, I sprang onto the highest branch and retrieved the key I had hidden in a notch. Opening the front door, I flipped the light switch—that was something at least. MacPherson had gotten the electricity turned on. Not that it made it any better. Maybe worse.
A quarter-inch of dust covered everything. And the smell of stale air was mixed with the dank, musty scent of fur. I released a pulse of energy, unseen but clearly felt by all the insect and animal inhabitants that suddenly skittered noisily away, abandoning the building. A trick that made Jonnie gasp as they scuttled past him outside. Old droppings and new remained behind, evidence of their long residence here. Gee, I should have dropped by more often just to keep the place vermin free, if nothing else.
Sound and movement swung my gaze back around to see Jonnie and Stefan step inside, with Nico and Talon peering in curiously behind them. Ruric and Hari were nowhere in sight, but I felt their demon presence; one outside on the porch, the other making a wide sweep around the property.
I remembered the warm and comfortable feel of the apartment Jonnie and Stefan had left behind, and how sharply it contrasted with this derelict place. I didn’t have to ask them how they felt about it. I knew.
“It’s awful,” I said, with a flat press of lips. “Nothing like the comfortable home you had to leave. I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize,” said Stefan, slipping his hand into mine. It still surprised me how easily and comfortably he did that—held my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You are opening up your house to us, giving us a place to stay.” He squeezed my hand. “We can help you make it more cozy and comfortable.”
“I’d like that,” I said, wriggling my long, sharp nails. “I have lousy domestic skills.”
“No problem,” he responded easily, “I’m pretty handy in that area.”
“And in quite a few other areas, too,” I murmured, igniting a dark blaze in his eyes. Naughty me.
We spent the next four hours cleaning up the place and settling in, despite my telling them that a cleaning crew would be in the next day.
“Cancel it,” Stefan said. “We’ll be sleeping by then.”
With a sigh, I did, waking MacPherson up at six A.M. to have him cancel the cleaning arrangements he had made. Dawn was breaking softly across the horizon by then. Windows that had been thrown wide open to air out the staleness were closed and locked back up, and heavy curtains drawn to block out the encroaching daylight. If nothing else, the house was well equipped in that regard. Every bedroom, not just the one I used, had the same heavy, lined curtains that threw the rooms into complete darkness.
Sunlight burned Monère skin, not instantaneously—it took time, several hours. It was also harmful to demons, only there was no pain for us. We could walk outside without feeling the burning discomfort Monères felt, but after several hours under the sun’s rays, we cooked, too. Not the red-blisters-and-boils way they did, but in a more dangerous softening of our flesh, to the point where the barest press of a fingernail could split open our skin. There was also a dangerous leeching of our power, which was finite here in this realm. We had a limited amount, like batteries that carried only so much charge in them. Demons had to return to Hell to juice back up before their power got too low to make the return trip home. Sunlight was a definite drain on our power that we didn’t need. Hence we slept during the day.
Four bedrooms had seemed too big for one demon. Now it seemed too small for the seven of us. Crap. How had we grown from one into seven in less than a week’s time?
I had the master bedroom, which seemed a large waste of space for my small self when everyone else had to double up. But they refused to let me take one of the smaller bedrooms. The way it was set up, the master bedroom sat at one end of the house, and the other three bedrooms at the other end. The six of them would have to share one bathroom between them, while I had the master bathroom entirely, wastefully, to myself.
“Okay, decide how you guys want to double up,” I said, leading them to where they would be sleeping.
Jonnie and Stefan chose the bedroom nearest the front entrance, while Ruric and Hari claimed the private corner bedroom. By default, Talon and Nico ended up in the bedroom next to Jonnie and Stefan. The bathroom separated their two rooms. Unfortunately, there was only one twin bed in each of the three bedrooms.
“One person is going to have to sleep on the floor in each room until I can get some more beds in,” I said in apology.
“Don’t worry,” Nico said. “We have a roof over our head, a clean floor, now that it has been swept, and protection from sunlight. We’ll be fine.”
“Easy for you to say,” I snorted. “You’ll probably take the bed and make Talon sleep on the floor.”
Nico winked and grinned. “You know me so well.” At five nine, he was the shortest among my men and more stocky. Blond hair fell in a tousled wave over heather-gray eyes, his most stunning feature. The rest of his face was square-jawed and masculine. With a bold beak of a nose and cocky confidence, he was roguishly attr
active in a rough and charming sort of way.
“I do not mind sleeping on the floor, Mistress,” Talon said softly.
“Call me Lucinda,” I said, reminding him gently yet again. Patience was not normally one of my virtues, but it was hard to snap at Talon. He had a delicateness to him not just of face and body but also of emotions.
“I’m sorry,” he said with soft chagrin. “I forgot.”
“That’s okay, Talon. It’ll take a while for all of us to adjust to things.” Including me, I thought. Especially me.
“Yes, Lucinda.” He said my name shyly.
I rewarded him with a smile, and left to hunt up bedding for everyone, my two bodyguards trailing like bronze shadows behind me.
There were enough sheets and blankets to go around but we were short two pillows, I discovered after a quick inventory.
“We’ll have to go shopping for things later,” I said, handing out what I had.
Talon took the sheets and blanket but declined a pillow, as did Hari.
“I understand Talon passing up a pillow, but why you?” I asked Hari.
The dark demon had been unusually quiet since we had arrived. I expected a smart, glib remark tossed back at me, something like him being too macho to need one. Instead he said, “It will be easier for me to go without than you.”
Implying what? That he’d passed on a pillow because I would have ended up without one had he taken one? True, but not something I thought he would have been sharp enough to observe, much less care about.
“Okay,” I said, only halfway teasing, “where did you bury the real Hari?”
The look he gave me was hard to decipher. No sneering arrogance in his manner, no crude joke. Just a somber and serious look that was almost unsure—which was something I was totally not used to from this quick-mouthed, foul-tempered demon. His voice, when he finally spoke, was bland without any inflection. “As you said, it will take a while for us all to adjust to things.”
His careful words only confused me more.
He disappeared into his bedroom and I was left pondering the odd puzzle that Hari had suddenly become.
Stefan stepped out of his bedroom, his pillow tucked beneath one arm. “Are you going to your room?” he asked.
With all the others, I could be my usual insouciant self, but not with Stefan. His presence pulled out something soft and strangely womanly in me so that I almost melted in his presence. “I was going to turn in for the day,” I said.
“May I join you?”
His request filled me with vivid yearning, but only for a moment. “The others . . . I can’t erect a cone of silence,” I blurted out, blushing yet again. Erecting the sound barrier for privacy would sever the bond between Nico and I, and he did not do well being cut off from me like that.
“I just wish to be with you,” Stefan said. “Hold you and reassure myself that you are truly returned and safely here, and not something I just desperately dreamed up.”
I held out my hand to him, and he came to me without hesitation. He seemed to have perfected the art of holding hands with a demon.
He sighed, and within my soul so did I, with happy, nervous contentment.
FIVE
LUCINDA WAS LIKE a dream come true to him. A dream Stefan had not even known existed. He had not lied when he said he wanted to touch her to convince himself that she was real.
She was dazzling to the eyes with her startling and striking face, voluptuous form, honey skin, and metallic gold shining hair—gossamer strands of unearthly beauty that spilled down her back in soft waves.
She was exquisite. Not in a soft way but a rather hard one, her eyes cool and glittering with dark sardonic knowledge, her smile thrillingly seductive and a little cruel, except when she was with them . . . with him. Then her hunter’s cool, stealthy grace, and calm assurance faltered, disappeared, and in its place was a glimpse of woman’s softness and vulnerability that few saw.
She was his, first.
Stefan shared her now with two others in a bonding he was excluded from. He didn’t mind that—well, in truth, he only minded it a little. Stefan could share her as long as she loved him most. A rueful snort in his mind. Okay, as long as she just cared about him and wanted him. He was hers, anyway she wished to have him.
Color warmed her cheeks as they entered her bedroom. It delighted Stefan, that gentle blush. Chased away his uncertainty.
Yes, he thought with joy and relief, she still wants me! And the warmth of that knowledge filled him with giddy comfort.
“You must be tired,” he said.
“Exhausted.” But she just stood there in awkward silence, eyes dropped shyly to the floor.
The thought came to Stefan that perhaps he should give his lady some privacy to allow her to prepare for sleep. With her permission, he retreated into the bathroom and peered curiously around. But there was little to be learned of her.
Small liquid containers of natural, unscented soap sat on the sink and in the shower-bath, full and unused, like the kind you saw in hotels. A hairbrush, toothbrush, and tiny tube of toothpaste were laid neatly out in a drawer, everything new; the small trash can nearby held the discarded packaging. The storage compartment underneath the sink held a small supply of everything he had just seen, along with several rolls of toilet paper.
It was bland, functional, and impersonal. No strands of hair left on an old brush. Nothing to give away anything of the woman who stayed here on occasion. This was her property but it held nothing of her essence, nothing to indicate that it was a home to her. And that perhaps was the most revealing observation of all.
It was what she had said—a place she came to rarely. And everything she used was disposed of after she left, leaving behind no evidence of her stay. It had not been a home to her; just another anonymous stopping point at which she occasionally landed. This was the most permanent thing she had here in this realm, this small province of hers, and she had touched upon it lightly and infrequently.
But that was before, Stefan thought, taking a deep, calming breath. Before him. Before them, her new family. And as he had told her, he was blessed with handy domestic skills, something he had learned from taking care of Jonnie. They would help make this a true home for her.
Using a new toothbrush and small tube of toothpaste he found under the sink, he quickly brushed his teeth and washed his hands and face.
He returned to find her sitting on the bed, her clothes unchanged.
“I’ll have to add pajamas to the list of things to buy later,” she said, slightly embarrassed.
He opened his mouth to ask what she normally wore to sleep, then closed it as the answer occurred to him. Nothing. Just raw, bare skin.
He swallowed. Cleared his throat. “I have an old, comfortable T-shirt you can wear to bed if you like.”
“That sounds nice,” she said as she slipped past him into the bathroom.
Jonnie was lying in bed, eyes closed but not yet asleep.
“You sleeping here tonight?” he inquired drowsily, pushing himself up on an elbow as Stefan slipped back into the room.
“Nah, just grabbing some clothes.” Not only for her but himself, too. He usually slept in the raw also. It looked like both of their sleeping habits were about to change. “Can I borrow two of your boxers?”
“Sure,” Jonnie said, looking curious but asking no questions.
Stefan changed outside in the living room, and happily found that Jonnie’s loose boxers were not as bad a fit as he feared. He hoped they would be as comfortable for Lucinda.
She was waiting for him when he returned, seated once more on the bed. The picture she made, a mix of fierce demon and shy, vulnerable woman, stole Stefan’s breath away, as did the look in her eyes, as they traveled slowly, appreciatively, over the bare skin that his new T-shirt and boxers revealed. He had thought they covered him rather modestly, but the sudden flare of heat in her eyes made him feel as if he were walking toward her naked. His body reacted and he turned away, clos
ing his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, trying to impose rule over his suddenly unruly body. “Just give me a moment.”
“Are the clothes on top for me?” She was there suddenly, standing in front him, even though he hadn’t heard her move. Hadn’t sensed her come near him.
He caught the twitch of her lips.
“Pleased, are you?” he asked.
She grinned openly then, showing that yes, she was pleased indeed as she took his offering of clothes.
“You’re going to pay for that another night,” he warned. And she laughed, a soft musical sound, her awkwardness gone now as if it had never been as she transformed into the sly and sultry seductress that she could slip so easily in and out of like a second skin. “Promises, promises,” she purred. It was an enchanting sound, her laughter—her sudden relaxation.
“You are a witch,” he said with a smile. “Go and change.”
When she returned, it was his turn to run his eyes over her. My God, what she did to his old T-shirt! He had thought it would be too big on her, and it was in some ways: the shoulder seams fell halfway down her arms, and the hem reached down to her knees, so long that it hid the boxers underneath and made it appear as if that was all she was wearing. But dear blessed Lady, in other ways the fit was just perfect. The round, generous swells of her breasts were faithfully molded by the soft, stretched cotton, and he could see every quiver and bounce as she swayed her way over to him. Could see the mouth-watering outline of her nipples growing pebble hard beneath his avid gaze. His body roared with such a hot, aching blaze of need that he had to flop back onto the bed, gritting his teeth, as he tried to think of something else. Anything but how deliciously appealing she looked wearing his shirt.
The bed dipped down, and the mattress shifted as she crawled underneath the covers.
