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Dating for Demons

Page 7

by Serena Robar


  He picked up my hand and laced his fingers through mine. “Look, about earlier …”

  “Forget it. I’m sorry,” I interrupted him, enjoying the feel of his hand in mine.

  “Things have been hectic lately and I haven’t really been able to spend enough quality time with you. I’d never want you to think that I only wanted you for one thing.”

  He was referring to my blood of course, which made me laugh because prior to Thomas, guys used to be interested in a different thing.

  I nuzzled his neck and kissed his ear. “Yeah, but my blood is pretty high-quality stuff.”

  He turned to look at me, moving his hand to hold my chin and keep me still.

  “I love you, Colby.”

  It wasn’t the first time he’d said it but it was the first time he was so focused about it. I wondered at his intensity. Dropping a quick kiss on the hand beneath my chin I replied, “Damn straight.”

  He smiled and that dimple that drove me crazy appeared and before I knew it, we were in a pretty passionate embrace. When he was done showing me exactly how much he loved me, we curled up together and Thomas fell asleep. Big shocker, right?

  Admittedly, I was feeling pretty drowsy as well, but my mind refused to slow down. It kept racing with thoughts of the Prophesy, what I’d learned about demons and my concerns for Thomas.

  “I’m always amazed how much he feels for you,” I heard a voice say next to me.

  I looked at Thomas and was surprised to find him awake. Except, it wasn’t my Thomas. His eyes were aglow with red and rimmed with black. As if lined with eyeliner, as per Johnny Depp in Pirates. His voice was different as well. It sounded synthesized. This could only be Barnaby.

  I pulled away, but he held me quick. I had, after all, fallen asleep wrapped in Thomas’s arms.

  “Oh no, don’t go. I want to smell you.” He took a deep sniff and I had to say, “Eww.”

  I still struggled but it was pointless. Thomas was strong but possessed by Barnaby, it was like being held by steel bands.

  “You’re not real. You’ll never take over Thomas completely. You might manage it in his sleep, but he’ll fight you.”

  I felt pretty stupid making that prediction because I was struggling and fighting him as well and I was hardly winning.

  He laughed harshly and squeezed tighter. “I’m giving you the world and still you fight me. We’ll rule together. You’re so ungrateful.”

  He squeezed tighter until I cried out. My ribs cracked.

  “Please,” I begged and he immediately slackened his hold.

  “You see, I’m not unreasonable, my pet. It’s almost time to fulfill the Prophesy and you can take your rightful place as my queen. Imagine how the full-bloods will fear you.” Then he nuzzled my cheek, sniffing again. Then he surprised me by licking my neck.

  “I will have you,” he promised, then savagely bit me. I gasped in pain and struggled, but he held me tighter and tighter. I couldn’t move. My body was being smothered by his.

  Suddenly the weight lifted. I sprang up in bed and a strangled cry escaped me in the dark room. I grabbed at my neck. It felt fine. No marks, no wetness from blood. I looked at Thomas next to me. He was quiet, sleeping peacefully. His face was relaxed and his hair brushed across his forehead in disarray. He looked so peaceful.

  I tentatively reached out and touched him, relieved it was only a bad dream. He mumbled something and rolled over. My eyes went to the spot on the pillow his face occupied moments before. I stared at it for a long time, slowly inching away from Thomas to reach for my clothes. I couldn’t stop looking there.

  I touched my neck again and blinked away tears. His pillow was stained with blood and when I slipped out of bed, my ribs ached.

  Eight

  PIPER

  Tea at ten P.M. masquerading as afternoon tea was something only the British and the crazy do. Ileana Romanav was both.

  We settled down with our Earl Grey and lemon (Ileana ordered for both of us) in front of the fireplace to chat.

  “I want you to know I still don’t take much stock in the Prophesy.” She sipped her tea delicately. “However, I know many Undead do and for that matter, it should not be taken lightly.”

  This was in direct conflict with her original position.

  “You play it down to make Sophie feel better. That’s a pretty decent thing to do.”

  “I play it down because it should be played down. And we don’t need everyone in the House speculating and gossiping about something they can’t change.”

  I looked around the teahouse and noted a few students, and possibly one professor. “What did your father believe?”

  She sighed wearily. “He believed the Prophesy was true. He believed there was more to it than the obvious. However, he didn’t believe it meant the end of vampire existence, but a unique opportunity for vampire evolution.” She took another sip of her tea then added, “He thought vampires were noble, misunderstood creatures who should be idolized and worshipped.”

  “Was he crazy?” I had to know if she thought he was. I’m not sure I could believe my dad was crazy, even if he talked about nutty things. I guess I would live in denial and call him eccentric.

  “He was a zealot. A strong believer who could never be convinced with logic or examples that his faith was misplaced. I imagine he thought he’d done something to bring on the attack that killed him. That it was his fault his precious Undead were ripping him apart, limb from limb. He’d done nothing but serve them.”

  I shivered at the image she evoked. “So you don’t think any of his journals are worth reviewing?”

  “No, what I’m saying is take anything in those things with a grain of salt, Piper. Zeal is one thing. A passion for your calling is not bad. When your passion clouds your judgment and common sense, it’s time to step back and listen to a more objective opinion. I’m afraid there isn’t much objectivity in those journals.”

  “So you’ve read them?”

  She studied me quietly before answering, “Yes.”

  Just then Hunter arrived at the teahouse. I wasn’t sure how he’d found me but the guy was like a bloodhound on a trail or something.

  I introduced him to Ileana and he took the chair opposite our couch without invitation.

  “I thought I’d find you here,” he said without any hint of what had transpired between us earlier. He wasn’t acting the least bit freaked out about our breaking-and-entering job the night before.

  “My, what a well-built man you are, Hunter. Pray, what do you do to keep in such excellent shape?” Ileana practically purred in his direction as I shot daggers at her.

  Hunter seemed flustered and a blush crept up his neck. My cool, alpha male was letting Ileana castrate him. “Stop it, Ileana,” I said.

  She turned her intense gaze on me and Hunter seemed to slump for a moment. She was using her vampire voodoo.

  “Be careful with this one,” she warned as she stood up and swept away from us.

  My mouth fell open at her abrupt departure but Hunter’s reaction surprised me more.

  “Why are you here all alone?” he asked, after pulling himself together.

  “Alone?” I said, doubtful I’d heard him correctly.

  “Yeah, alone. You were just sitting here on the couch when I sat down.” He looked at me like I was crazy. Ileana had wiped the memory of meeting her from his mind. Nice trick.

  “Can’t a girl have a little tea and solitude?”

  “How about tea and company? I think I found someplace we can find more of your special script.”

  “Really?” I was surprised he was still willing to help me. Heck, I was surprised he was still willing to see me.

  “Did you get in okay?”

  “Yeah, sure. You dropped me off right at the front door,” I reminded him.

  “Yeah, but I didn’t see you go in the house and wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

  That was weird, but sweet of him to ask.

  “I’m good.
Fine. Where do you want to take me?” He stood up and I took his lead.

  “Nope, no questions until we get there.”

  “Great, does that mean I get to drive?”

  He looked horrified at the thought. Nope, I didn’t think so.

  It was a quiet destination.

  “Why are we here again?” I asked Hunter, looking over a rather large and impressive headstone.

  “I thought we might find some pagan symbols.”

  “Why this cemetery, in particular?” I jumped nimbly to the next headstone. I wasn’t about to step directly on anyone’s final resting spot. I knew enough Undead to be more respectful than that.

  “Over there, past that fence, is the oldest part of the cemetery. It has a section of very interesting occupants.”

  He wiggled his dark brows.

  “Define interesting.” I glanced back in the direction he indicated.

  “Suspected witches, zombies, vampires.” He flashed a grin at me.

  “You believe in that kind of stuff? Witches, vampires, zombies?” I mocked him, knowing in my heart that all three were quite real.

  “Don’t you?” he asked.

  “Uh, no.” I lied, following him to our destination. Once I stumbled. He grabbed my hand to steady me and just didn’t let it go. His grip was strong, powerful and very warm. For a moment I thought of Carl’s cool grip but the heat from Hunter’s hand banished the memory. I needed someone alive and breathing. Carl needed someone like him.

  “Why not?”

  “Ever met one?” I asked.

  “Every Halloween,” he assured me.

  “You know, I can dress up like a doctor but that doesn’t mean I can perform open-heart surgery.”

  Hunter dropped my hand and pulled open his duster to reveal a muscular chest hugged by a tight black T-shirt. “I’d let you.”

  My heart skipped a beat but I kept my voice steady. “Then you are just another pretty face.”

  I’d turned the tables on him and he laughed at my joke. “Funny girl.” He took my hand again.

  “Any reason we had to visit this place at night?”

  “Because you aren’t available during the day?” he ventured. He’d never seen me during the day, so obviously he assumed I was too busy then. The truth was I kept unusual hours since my friends were Undead. It meant I stayed up at night and slept during the day, much like they did, but it didn’t mean I thought traipsing around a cemetery at night was a good time.

  “True, it’s just kind of creepy here at night. What with the mist hanging over the graves like in a very bad horror movie.”

  “I’ll protect you,” he assured me.

  But I had to remind him, “That is what every big, strong man says right before they get hacked up, sawed in half or eaten alive. They always leave the damsel to fend for herself and she ends up getting raped by a tree or something.” Okay, maybe I’d seen Evil Dead one to many times. I can’t help it. I love Bruce Campbell.

  “But you don’t believe in things that go bump in the night.”

  I stopped, effectively pulling my hand from his grip. He was throwing me off balance with all the flirting. It was time to do the same.

  “I go bump in the night. Are you afraid of me?”

  He stepped toward me.

  “Should I be?”

  We stood toe to toe in the mist, the world utterly silent around us. Was I really going to kiss Hunter for the first time in a graveyard? I could almost hear Colby’s voice mocking me, “That is so you, Piper.”

  “Maybe you should be afraid of me?” He said it softly. I put my hand on his chest, where he offered to let me perform surgery earlier.

  “Warm skin, strong heartbeat.” Boldly taking a step forward so we were practically one shadow, I leaned in and gave his chest a soft kiss. Then I slid my hand up to his neck and gently touched the vein pulsing at its base with my index finger. His jaw clenched but he didn’t move away.

  “Steady pulse. Lifeblood.” I stood on my tiptoes to kiss the pulse under my finger was. He sucked in a gulp of air. I paused a moment, wondering what I was doing. I’d never been this bold in my life but with Hunter, I wanted to be the aggressor. I wanted to kiss him. He was so confident and in control all the time that I wanted to be the one calling the shots for once.

  I could barely reach the base of his throat with my lips. He wouldn’t lean down to help me so I stretched a little more, my hands on his shoulders for balance. His neck radiated heat and I gave him the sweetest, smallest kiss on the throat.

  I dropped down from my toes with a shy smile and looked up into his eyes.

  Never had I seen a more frightened-looking guy than Hunter at that moment.

  “What’s wrong? What happened? Is there someone behind me?” I whipped around to see what terrible thing had crept up on us while Hunter was mesmerizing me, but we were totally alone.

  Hunter gulped once, then again. He didn’t move an inch, just kept staring down at me with the same fear and awe on his face.

  “I can’t fight you, Piper. I know you’ve hypnotized me and I know I can’t stop you but I want you to know I—I want this. I want to give you what you need. It’s against everything I believe but for you, I would do it.”

  It was a lovely speech, it really was. Very ardent and sincere. I just didn’t have any idea what he was talking about.

  “Huh?”

  He pulled the neckline of his tee, actually ripping it away from his shoulder, exposing lots of tanned flesh. Wow, that was so hot.

  “Don’t hold back. I’m not afraid. Not of you. I know why I was called here now.”

  Yes, I was confused. Yes, I should have done the right thing, the decent thing, by making Hunter backpedal and explain himself fully. But the most amazing, sexy, gorgeous guy I’d ever met had just ripped his shirt practically off, exposing his hard muscles and begging me not to hold back and telling me how much he wanted me. Well, you would kiss him first and ask questions later too. Trust me on this one. You totally would. So I did.

  I kissed his neck again, using my tongue to taste its saltiness. I kissed up his jawline and slid my hands up to his face, pulling it down so I could reach his lips. He resisted me for a moment, as though confused. Then he kissed me. We went straight to openmouthed kissing and Hunter was the perfect kisser. Not too slobbery, not too dry. He even sucked on my lower lip a little. Zowee.

  I didn’t have the experience with guys that Colby did, but I’d kissed a few of them here and there. It was nothing like kissing Hunter though. Kissing Hunter made time stand still. I couldn’t form coherent thought, and no guy had ever done that to me before.

  “Well, look what we have here. Two kinky lovebirds doing it in a graveyard.”

  We jumped away from each other in an instant. Were we being busted by some cemetery rent-a-cop? I looked around and couldn’t see anyone. Something moved to my right and I was surprised to find a black cat sitting on a large gravestone, grooming itself. A black freakin’ cat in the graveyard. Are you kidding me?

  The cat put its paw down and looked quizzically at us. “Don’t let me interrupt. Continue.”

  I was shocked. Did this cat just talk to us?

  I grabbed Hunter’s arm and pulled. He was staring at the cat too, but not in shock. More like annoyance.

  “Chill, Hunter, it’s not like the dame can hear me. She’s a curvy one. You got good taste, man, but then you always did.”

  Hunter’s expression went from annoyance to anger. Yes, the cat was talking. Except they didn’t seem to think I could hear the talking cat. Because really, that would be crazy, right?

  “Hunter? Why is that cat talking to us and why can I hear it?”

  I’m not sure who was more surprised, Hunter or the cat.

  “You can hear me?”

  “You can hear him?”

  They both spoke at the same time.

  “Uh, yeah. Why is the cat talking?” I was trembling and Hunter immediately pulled off his duster and wrapped it around me
. I couldn’t seem to stop shaking. He pulled me close to him and we sank down on the grass. He rocked me in his arms and I tried to stop shaking.

  “Chick’s in shock, man,” the cat proclaimed, jumping from the headstone to the grass.

  “If you even think about crawling up in her lap and purring I will snap your scruffy neck here and now.”

  Hunter’s face was thunderous. The cat paused in mid-step. He sat his furry bottom down a good five feet away from us and waited.

  My shaking started to subside. The racking turned to tremors and the cat went back to licking himself. This time he was more industrious with his cleaning, deciding all his manly cat parts needed a thorough washing.

  “Ew, do you have to do that here? Now? Have you no respect for the dead?” It had to be said.

  “We-ll, lookie who’s all proper now. I wasn’t the one just exchanging slobber with a Demon Slayer in this oh sacred of sacred places, honey.”

  “Demon Slayer?” I repeated blankly, looking at Hunter. He was a Demon Slayer? What did that mean anyway?

  “Well, you’re the half-blood Protector,” he blurted in his defense.

  “She’s not the Protector.”

  “I’m not the Protector.”

  The cat and I spoke in unison.

  Hunter looked confused, then angry. “You have to be. I was under your spell. You hypnotized me!” he accused. “I was helpless to stop you from biting me and making me your Undead slave.”

  His tirade ended a bit lamely as though once the words were spoken he could hear how ridiculous they sounded. Hunter was still confused, but the cat thought it was hysterical. He howled with kitty laughter.

  “Oh my, oh my.” He wiped tears of laughter from his eyes with his paw. “Oh, I can’t stand it. Wait ’til the cats on the fence hear this one. Hunter falls for a girl he thinks is a vampire—and not just any vampire, but the one prophesied to bring the end of the world. Hahahaha.”

  I frowned at the cat. Hunter knew about the Prophesy? Then it clicked. Of course he did. That’s why he was “helping” me. He thought I was the Protector and he wanted to see how I was going to end the world. I should have been furious, but the idea wasn’t so far-fetched.

 

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