Love and War Part 2

by Kim Faulks

  She shook her head. The moon chose that moment to burst from behind the heavy clouds, illuminating her face. The shadows in her eyes weren’t from any cloud. She feared opening up. Feared she’d only find more rejection.

  Well, by his god, she would open up to him. He’d peel every layer of her open. Creed slipped his hand to the back of her neck, tugging her forward. Salt from her tears stung his tongue when he traced the sensuous curves. He pulled away, only to bend forward again, this time to capture a fresh droplet sliding down her cheek. He savored the delicate sting, then swept his tongue past her lips, gently stroking hers. She slipped her hands along his upper arms to grip his shoulders, opening wider for his kiss.

  He’d rip her soul open if it was the last thing he did. But for now, he’d settle for opening her body. Connecting this way had healing powers, too. His god wanted her, wanted to challenge her power, the same way he’d wanted to tangle with Tlaloc earlier. Ares stirred along his arm, calling Creed to dominate, to subdue.

  But this was no night to pit power against power. This night was like the moon above, tender and new. He’d given in to the sharp cusp of his lust earlier. He fought for control now. Tenderness was a risk he rarely took. He broke the kiss. Confusion reigned in her eyes. Smiling, he slipped from underneath her, shifting her weight to the covers.

  “Woof!” the cur griped, a single bass note, but pressure from Creed’s nudging boot got the animal to his feet. The dog moved no more than five paces, flouncing down in the corner with an injured attitude that reminded him of Heath.

  He dropped to his knees beside the bed, gripping the hem of her shirt. Tugging the garment over her head, he tossed it aside. Dragging a fingertip down her nose, he whispered. “I think you’re perfect, Helaine.”

  Then he couldn’t speak, for the scent of jasmine choked off his voice. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to her shoulder while he worked the fastener on her jeans. Peeling the denim down her thighs, he smiled. He couldn’t see her face now, with her back to the window, but he sensed the hitch in her breath when he swept his thumbs across her mound.

  He hurled the pants aside, then slipped his hands between her thighs. “Open for me, Helaine. I need to taste you.” His words were code for other needs, other things he wanted her to give him.

  “Not… now. Not tonight.” His heart thumped inside his chest. He’d been right.

  “Tonight. Now.” Creed eyed her, trying to see through shadow now that the moon through the window was at her back. He chuckled. “I kill demons, woman. I’m not afraid of a little blood.” She was silent, but her rigid thighs telegraphed her distress. “Fine, you can keep the panties, but you need to know that, to a witch, the moon’s cycle is sacred, a thing to be worshipped.” Maybe his words, his ways, would give her a starting place to heal. “And worship you I will.”

  Her heartbeat thrummed under his lips when he touched the hollow at the base of her throat. The friction of soft skin against toughened skin seemed a balm for the dull ache in his chest. Her nipples were eager beads when he found them. Slipping her breasts from their confining cups, he thumbed the peaks. She arched and moaned.

  The dog snorted. Creed grinned, risking a set of teeth latching onto his ass by biting down gently. She lifted off the coverlet again.

  “Tender,” she gasped. “They’re tender.” Damn right they were. He rolled his tongue across one hard peak until she pushed him away. Undaunted, he took the other prisoner and treated it to the same torture. She responded by wrapping her legs around his waist. The heat from her core played a siren’s song inside his head, kindling his need, but Creed kept that fire tamped down. He kept to the task, roughing the hard point with his teeth, only to soothe the sting with his tongue.

  When she was panting for breath, he dropped his head, sliding his lips down her body. Stopping to drop a kiss above her belly button, he noted the stronger scent of jasmine when his lips touched the spot. He marched toward his destination with soft kisses pressed to the insides of her thighs.

  The rich scent of her core rose to meet him. Creed pressed her thighs open wider, resigned to settling for stroking her most tender point through the silk when he wanted to devour her. The small nub hardened at first brush. Creed circled the spot with his tongue, letting the fabric grow wet. The tautness in her thighs began to melt. Her breaths came faster and she moved—if only slightly—with the rhythm he set. He gripped the point between his lips. She grabbed a double handful of his hair. To his delight, she dragged him closer, apparently past the point of shame.

  Her gyrations caused her to slip down the wall. Moonlight spilled over her shoulders, lighting the gleam left by his tongue on her nipples. And past that, he spied eyes, no longer shadowed, blazing now with heat and need.

  She needed. He’d come to give—and give he would. His needs could wait.

  He slid his teeth over the hard nub, easing his thumbs under the elastic around her thighs when she gasped. Shifting her body so her bottom rested in his palms, he used his thumbs to press her labia together, massaging her slit while he turned from biting to suckling her clitoris.

  “Creed!” Her fingers tightened in his hair. “Creed.” Her body stiffened. He didn’t relent. Creed!”

  This cry stirred the hound to his feet, judging from the scrabble of claws on hard tile. Hot breath skimmed the bare skin at the small of his back where his shirt parted from his jeans. A cold nose shoved down his pants. “Holy shit!” She wrapped her legs around his neck.

  Creed lowered her to the mattress, grateful when the hound ceased his inspection of his ass. Blood he could handle. Drool down his crack, not so much. Rising, he slipped into bed beside her, pulling her onto the aching spot in his chest. He had the oddest feeling that he’d taken more than he’d given when he spied the shine in her eyes.

  Her soft caresses soothed his rage, but he wouldn’t abandon his plan. The Corrupt would have his full attention, but the policeman was a marked man.

  Booming barks roused him. Helaine lifted her head and when he spied the look in Nile’s eyes, he mourned the loss of her softness before he pushed to a sitting position.

  “Sorry to interrupt, brother. We gotta go. Something’s—” Nile cut his eyes to Helaine, then back to Creed. “Meet you in the car.”

  “What’s wrong?” Helaine whispered.

  “Dunno till I get there.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Go back to sleep. Rest. Promise me you’ll rest.”

  She grabbed his sleeve. “Creed?”

  He needed his blades, needed to hurry, judging from the look Niles shot him before he turned for the hall, but he stilled. Brushing a strand of hair from her cheek, he smiled.

  “Thank you. For tonight.” Something shimmered in her eyes, something that wasn’t tears.

  He spun, too choked to respond, and strode to the cabinet. The steel blades felt cold to his hand. As he slid each one into place, he thought about why that seemed odd. Funny, he hadn’t realized how many nights of his long lifetime he’d curled up with steel rather than with silk. Slamming the cupboard door, he strode from the room.

  Nile pushed off the wall, falling in behind him. Creed hurried for the stairs, grateful Niles waited till they hit the lower floor to speak.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The old church sang with the screams of the innocent. High-pitched wails followed the crack of a whip. Bowed heads and shackled wrists stretched as far as she could see. The blonde woman was here somewhere, if she wasn’t dead already. She moved down the aisle, sifting through the detritus of naked humans. One by one, she yanked their matted hair back and searched for the lone woman who could help her. They pleaded silently, eyes stretched wide, flickers of fear dancing like a wind-teased flame. Their hope was wasted. She was happy to extinguish their blaze—each and every one of them, to get what she wanted. But none were the woman she was after.

  “Pray.” She shoved the last woman back to the wooden pew. Movement to her right caught her attention. One of the elders watched with a gua
rded stare. She nodded and kept moving toward the back of the chapel. There was much to do.

  In the middle of the glass cell, a swirling black orb hovered mid-air, shooting sparks from white light that pulsed from its core. She placed her hand against the cool glass. In the center of this nucleus she could feel her father rising, and with him the birth of a new world. “I’m going after Sarah today. It won’t be long until they’re all gone and then there will only be us.”

  The globe spun, casting the light around the room, as though somehow her father could hear her and he approved. She left the compartment, feeling vacant eyes of the Corrupt follow her as she entered the smaller room. The small group of demon warriors was all she needed. They were finally going after the lone witch. After today, there’d be one less witch to fight, one less problem that stood in their way.

  She eyed the muted warriors as they waited for the instruction. Could they be trusted? She was about to find out. “This witch is powerful and dangerous. Watch your backs, and whatever you do, don’t get caught. You may be demons, but for now, you’re nothing but flesh and blood. Remember that.”

  They made no sound as they checked and stowed their handguns. These fledgling beasts were no better than the sacks of meat they wore. This was her great army, these mindless robots. One beast stood apart from the rest. She caught the stillness in the corner of her eye, he watched her with a deadpan gaze that reflected blood-red for a moment—his demon gaze. “Gather your things. We don’t have all day.”

  He never moved. Something inside her clenched in warning. She’d need to watch him. She left the monster standing there. This attack was more than a tick on the board—this was a slap in the face for Creed and the others. After today, they’d finally realize who they were dealing with.

  “We are ready, Chosen.” The monotone voice muttered behind her.

  She turned, surveying the squad. “Well then, let’s go.”

  They followed her through the back room, slipping past the dark curtain and into the rows of pews. Her focus was on Sarah. The severing of the humans from their god was an experience unlike any other she’d felt before. What was once so powerful was rendered useless and pathetic. She exited the church, punching through the whirlpool of energy that hid the Ancient from the rest of the world. The beasts followed, although for them, moving through the portal was easier. They exited on the other side of the boarded-up church. A tan station wagon sat in the parking lot. The windows were down. Filth and grime coated the windscreen and the body. It didn’t surprise her that the vehicle was still here—this piece of crap wasn’t worth stealing.

  One of the beasts overtook her, the keys in his hand. What once belonged to the human body the demon occupied was now his. He fumbled with the lock. “Let me get the door for you, Chosen.”

  She slid into the passenger’s seat while the rest piled into the back, like some weird family vacation. “Just hurry up and drive.”

  The car spluttered to life. The engine screamed like a wounded animal, growing louder as they backed out of the parking space. The hideous squeal only grew louder as they traveled toward the main road. She winced. How the fuck are we supposed to attack unnoticed in this? The naïve passed them by without so much as a second glance. This was history in the making. This was the moment mankind would remember for eternity.

  Sarah had been quiet for what felt like forever. She had no information on the witch until her scouts stumbled upon a missing executive. His last known whereabouts was some ritzy place named The Caller’s Bar. This information led them to Castlelea Way, a derelict neighborhood where, after a year of searching, their quarry waited.

  They pulled up against the curb, midway down the street from the address they’d been given. She surveyed the area. The place was crawling with the human filth. They peered from the safety of their homes. They wouldn’t be safe for long. The car doors groaned and springs bounced as the demons behind her climbed out of the car. She followed, always guarded, waiting for her tide to turn and her rival to appear.

  “We’re ready when you are, Chosen.”

  She nodded, stepping up from the gutter. She was already savoring what was about to come. The gate hinges groaned as she pushed through. She rapped on the wooden door and waited impatiently. The slow shuffle of footsteps echoed from inside the house, gaining momentum as they came closer.

  The door cracked open. Beady eyes stared up at her. “Yes?”

  “I’m here to see, Sarah. Is she in?”

  The old woman squinted up at her. “No, she isn’t.”

  She reached for her pocket. “I have some money I’d like to leave her.”

  The old woman reached for the latch and slid the bolt free. The Chosen seized the door handle, yanking it open. It was over before the old woman realized what was happening. She felt the demons lunge. The surge of their blood lust stole her breath for a second as one after another they forced their way inside.

  “G-get o-out of m-my house.” The old woman stammered.

  She followed the beasts through the small dwelling, making sure the elderly woman was alone. There was no room for surprises. “So, this is how this is going to happen. You’re going to call Sarah and tell her she needs to get here right away.”

  “No.”

  She nodded and three of them moved against her. “Or, I’m going to peel the skin from your body, starting there.” She pointed to the old woman’s soft belly. “Make the call. I only want to talk to her. Five minutes and we’ll be gone. I promise.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Why would I lie? Make the call.”

  The old woman glanced toward a phone sitting on the bureau. “You’re not here to kill her, right?”

  The Chosen smiled. A lie fell from her lips as smoothly as the truth. “Right.”

  She waited for the old woman to make her move. She shuffled, keeping one eye on them and made her way over to the phone. Her gnarled fingers punched the flat number pads. She waited and then spoke. “Sarah, dear. There are people here to see you. I don’t know who they are. They look dangerous. Yes. Yes, dear. One moment.”

  The old woman held out the handset. “She wants to talk to you.”

  The Chosen strode forward, snatching the phone from her hand. “Sarah, it would be lovely if you could join us.”

  “Who is this?” the witch growled.

  The answer was quick and to the point. “An old friend.”

  She slammed the handset down. The cord gave little resistance as she wrenched the phone, tearing the cable free. Her tone was cold as she gave the command. “Kill her.”

  She could feel the floorboards vibrate with the thunder of boots. The old woman muttered. “No, no. Not here!” The plea was followed by the savage sounds of tearing flesh and the screams of the hungry and the dying.

  These demons were vicious creatures. They were ravenous and vile, desperate to inflict pain and torture—perfect for role they filled. She waited for the witch, side-stepping the gore that now covered the wooden floorboards. “Get rid of that mess. The witch will be here any minute.”

  The beasts worked faster, chewing, swallowing. A handy trick, but her stomach turned, watching them cleaning up the mess they made.

  Ten minutes passed until the sound of a car engine stalled somewhere outside. The Chosen walked toward the door, ducking into one of the side rooms to wait. The grind of the key in the lock was followed by a loud bang. Still, she waited, pressed against the wall as Sarah stepped into the house. “Grandmama?”

  There was no answer.

  “Grandmama, can you hear me?” Slow thuds of Sarah’s boots echoed in the tiny house. The Chosen’s heart thundered with excitement. She wanted to lunge for the witch, desperate to see her one more time.

  A scrape came from somewhere toward the back of the house. She made her move, pouncing into the hallway behind the dark-skinned woman. Sarah spun, her eyes narrowed. Her fists clenched as she muttered. “You?”

  The Chosen smiled and answered.
“Me.”

  She held her breath. Sarah’s gaze dropped to the floor. The witch’s eyes widened and a savage sound tore from her chest. The Chosen was spellbound, following her quarry’s gaze to the floor. A smear of blood was all that remained of the old woman. She expected tears. She’d hoped for pain, but there was nothing. Sarah lifted her eyes, there was a hardness in them now—something that’d not been there seconds before. “The old woman is dead, witch.”

  A slow nod followed. There was a glimmer of acknowledgment and then nothing. She never heard them move, only caught the motion as the creatures advanced. “Are you finally ready to die?”

  The witch inhaled, stilled, and then lunged like a goddamn snake, mouth open, poisoned fangs ready to impale. “You fucking bitch!”

  The Chosen smiled as the demons descended like the plague. They held witch back. Her eyes blazed and her mouth opened and closed, trying to find the words. In her cold, empty heart she’d waited for this day for so long. Finally in this perfect moment she didn’t have to hide.

  “Creed is going to kill you. He’ll tear your body apart and send you back to Hell in pieces!” The Chosen could only nod, replaying the scene in her head. Creed would indeed destroy her—given the chance.

  “How could you do this, Lila? How could you do this to us, to Creed? He loved you. He tried to cut his own damn heart out after your death.”

  Lila swallowed hard. Words betrayed her, for a second at least. “He did?”

  “Your death left a hole I’d never seen before and I doubt I ever will. He loved you from the darkest corner of his soul.”

  The old hurt resurrected. “But not more than he loved the coven. Not more than he loved his damn family.”

  “You were his family.” Sarah’s dark eyes shone with the truth. In her heart, Lila knew this, but it was far too late. Too late for anything other than death.