by Brenda Huber
He closed the distance between them. Prowling. Stalking. Each purpose-laden step sent long, melting strokes deep in the most feminine part of her. She could barely catch her breath.
The rock began to slip from her fingers, and his eyes flickered again, snapping her attention back to the here and now. Here and now, she had a demon in her office. A sultry, testosterone-drenched demon that dominated the very air in the room.
“The restroom is just out the door and to the right,” she squawked, lifting her weapon once more, anxious to break the spell.
As if coming to his senses, he stopped and drew a deep breath. Without another word, he spun on his heel and strode for the door. Not a wobble in his gait. No signs of vertigo or weakness.
It was that exact moment that she got her first good look at his back. Her stomach dropped to her toes. Horrendous scars marred both of his shoulder blades. Pearly scar tissue, puckered and ridged and gruesome, attested to terrible wounds. The kind of wounds that left scars not only on the body, but on the soul as well.
How could anyone survive that kind of savage torture?
Staggered by the excruciating pain he must have suffered, she blindly dropped the stone into the top drawer of her desk and scurried after him.
“No! The restroom is the next door over.”
As he swung the appropriate door open, she called out, “Hold on a minute.” Kyanna rushed to the small utility closet across the hall and gathered an armful of towels and a tray of delicately scented, rose-shaped soaps.
“Here.” She thrust the pile into his hands, doing her level best not to touch him. “Sorry about the soap, but it’s the only thing I have down here.”
He picked up one of the tiny, pink rosebud shaped soap offerings and sniffed, scowling. That expression seemed to be his default mode. He accepted her offering with little more than a grunt before disappearing inside the bathroom.
Kyanna stood in the hallway, staring at the closed door, willing her equilibrium to return to normal. She’d let a demon inside the enchantments. A real, live demon. A gorgeous, seductive, hunk of a demon. A demon that was no longer on death’s door. Not anymore, thanks to whatever it was he’d done to her.
Wringing her hands, she paced away, paced back. Stared at the door, paced away.
What was she supposed to do with him now?
A few, not-so-G-rated ideas popped into her mind, filling her cheeks with bewildered heat. Just as quickly, she wanted to kick herself. She had no business even thinking those thoughts about someone like him. The only thing she should be doing was figuring out a way to get rid of him.
Unfortunately, she didn’t think he’d meekly nod assent and go on his merry way with a handshake and an “It was so nice to meet you, so sorry you can’t stay, don’t let the door hit your gorgeous behind on the way out”. Besides, she couldn’t exactly unleash him back onto the world. He was a demon, for Jupiter’s sake.
And he must sense the ward stones, to say nothing of the enchantments. Surely, he had to be wondering where she’d gotten them.
Or, more importantly, why she felt the need for them in the first place.
He knew that she knew what he was. Not many humans would. But he hadn’t called her on that. Not yet, anyway. Why?
Question after question circled her brain like hungry vultures, waiting to pick the meat from any logical conclusion she managed to assemble, leaving her with nothing but the bare bones of insecurity. Biting her lip, she scurried upstairs to her apartment. As quickly as she could, she scrambled to gather ward stones, then hurried back down. With a quick glance at the closed restroom door, she stashed the stones in a nearby storage closet. By the time he emerged from the restroom, she was a ball of frazzled nerves.
Those nerves weren’t helped any by his expression. Nor by the detailed tattoos adorning his clean body. She’d thought his ink was horrific before, splattered by blood and gore. Now that she could see the finer markings, they sent a fresh wave of chills through her. They were like a roadmap of his fall from grace, with every side street to destruction and pit stop to murder and mayhem clearly plotted out.
She had no idea why, but he was clearly furious about something now. His eyes blazed, his brow pinched tight. His jaw was clenched so tightly it was little wonder he hadn’t shattered all his teeth. His body was rigid. Temper fairly crackled in the air.
What had happened in there to change his mood so drastically?
“We need to talk,” he spat out.
“Really?” Kyanna snipped.
His slowly elevated eyebrow sent a wave of panic through her, and she cursed herself for letting her mouth run away with her.
That’s right, Kyanna. Piss the demon off. She could have smacked herself upside the head for her stupidity.
Sooth the demon’s ruffled feathers. That was what she needed to do. Reassure him that there is nothing—absolutely nothing—of interest here. Without being too obvious, of course. Then she needed to figure out what to do with him.
That was what her goal should be.
The pointed stare he sent her way pretty much told her that her goal was going to be easier said than done.
Heaving a sigh, she waved her hand, motioning him forward. “Fine. After you.”
His bearing was positively regal as he passed her, despite the faint scent of roses that now mingled with the earthy, spicy, masculine scent of him. And all that golden, tattooed skin was now clean. Lickably clean. Mentally giving herself a good swift kick in the butt, she followed him to the office and stood uncertainly in the doorway as he took a seat on the sofa.
“Sit,” he barked.
“I’m fine right where I am,” she denied, crossing her arms. But something about him pulled at her. Tempted her to take a little more time before she pushed him out the door.
Curiosity began to war with common sense. She should be trying to sooth him into compliance. Shouldn’t she? Probably, yes. Capturing him inside a ward stone cage. Absolutely.
But she had a real, live demon sitting in her office. One that wanted to talk.
Up until now, demons were something she’d only thought of in two-dimensional terms. They were creatures of legend. Monsters depicted in cautionary stories learned at her mother’s knee. Caricatures drawn on the pages of the book with brief descriptions and directions for incantations to temporarily paralyze them, crystals used to repel them.
She herself—present circumstances excluded—had only had one firsthand experience with a demon. At least, that she knew of. While she’d been in college, she’d gone with friends for a night out on the town. They’d visited a seedy little nightclub for drinks and dancing. She’d begun to get a headache from the smoke and noise, and so she’d stepped outside for some fresh air.
That was when she’d spotted him—the demon—slinking into a side alley. Curiosity had always been her Achilles heel. Against her better judgment, she’d followed at a distance. Hiding behind a dumpster, she’d caught sight of the demon in all his scaly, horned glory as he’d attacked a homeless bum. She’d been so frightened that she hadn’t been able to do anything more than back silently from the alley, filled with horror.
Up until that point, she’d always—somewhere in the back of her mind—believed the book and the things her mother had so diligently taught her were nothing more than useless, obsolete legends. But after seeing that demon, Kyanna had devoted herself to learning all she could, practicing every bit of knowledge that was possible, so if she ever found herself in that position again, she would not only be able to defend herself, but also rescue the innocent victim as well.
But what had she done instead? She’d taken the demon inside her safe haven. Tried to heal him, for pity sake. And now they were going to sit down and have a civilized conversation?
She might have been stupid about letting him inside the enchantments. But that didn’t mean she was out of th
e game yet. She could still protect others out there from him and others of his kind if need be. Still protect the innocent. Would he reveal information that might help in her endeavors?
The questions she could ask him. The information she could gather.
The things I could add to the book!
He didn’t seem in any great rush to kill her. And he didn’t seem inclined to leave either. What would he do when he realized she wasn’t about to let him go on his blissful way?
“Where is my dagger?”
Okay, so they wouldn’t be starting off on a positive note. Just as well get all the uncomfortable stuff out of the way. “It’s safe.”
“I want it back. Now.”
She shook her head. “That’s not gonna happen.”
His scowl deepened.
“What’s wrong with your voice?” Oh, yeah. That was pertinent. Great place to start. Especially considering the way his dark scowl turned positively black with menace. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“You know what I am,” he countered, blatantly turning the conversation down a different path.
She nodded, nibbling on her lower lip while she waited for him to go on.
“How do you know what I am?”
He hadn’t even tried to deny it. And suddenly, she was the one treading on dangerous ground. Lifting her chin, she feigned confidence. “I think I should be the one asking questions here.”
“No.”
“No? What do you mean, no?”
“I ask. You answer, little human.”
She might be seriously in over her head here, but that didn’t mean he had to be condescending. She succinctly countered, “No.”
The muscle in his jaw began to tick. His head tilted ever so slightly. Thoughtfully. Kyanna pressed a fist to her trembling stomach. Had she pushed him too far?
No, it didn’t matter. She refused to cower. Clenching her teeth, she stepped inside the room and pulled the chair from the desk, a safe distance from him. Easing onto the chair, Kyanna clasped her hands in her lap, ignoring the way they trembled as she leaned slightly forward. She had an opportunity here. The chance to gather valuable information, make a real contribution to her ancestors’ work. She wouldn’t lose out on that opportunity just because a demon had glared at her and turned her into a sniveling coward.
“You want information.” She tightened her grip. “Well, so do I. The way I see it, we have two options. We can sit here glowering at each other and get nowhere. Or, we could share information.”
Xander was silent for a long moment. Just as the urge to shift uncomfortably in her seat became nearly unbearable, one side of his mouth curled up in a frightening, and yet oddly seductive, grin. His stormy attention dropped to linger on her breasts with an intense consideration that was every bit as erotic as a physical caress.
His scorching gaze slowly lifted to pin her to the spot. “You forgot the third option.”
“Third option?” Kyanna croaked, scooting back in her chair. Oh crap. Oh crap. She had pushed him too far. Now he was going to kill her.
“I could force you to tell me everything you know.” He paused meaningfully. “And I won’t have to tell you a damned thing.”
She stuttered, “Y-you can’t do that. Torturing me won’t get you what you want.”
His expression subtly changed. “There are other ways.”
“You can’t kill me.”
Without any warning whatsoever, he was kneeling before her. His hips wedged between her knees as he leaned over her. His warm, naked chest brushed hers, teasing her with his incredible body heat. His face inches from hers, his breath skimming her lips. His hands, large and impossibly warm, bracketed her forearms, anchoring them to the office chair, effectively caging her in place.
“Why can’t I?” His words whispered across the corner of her mouth.
“The enchantments,” she murmured, breathless. “If you kill me, you’ll be trapped inside the enchantments. You’ll never get out.”
His smoldering gray stare dipped, tracing the curve of her lips. The trembling in the pit of her stomach intensified. But this trembling burned with a new kind of fire. Something she refused to acknowledge. He was a demon. An evil being from Hell. She had no business having that kind of reaction to him.
“I could make you lower them, make you tell me the spells.”
She shook her head slowly; her stare never leaving his. “No. You can’t. Dark influence has no hold on me. I won’t tell you anything. You can’t make me.” Lord, she sounded like a petulant six-year-old. Damn it, this wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t think straight with him like this. So close. So tempting.
“You wouldn’t be able to resist.”
“I would,” she denied. The crystal pendant on her necklace insured that. Yet even as she argued with him, she was forced to bite back a groan. Why was her body responding like this? The trembling had moved lower. Her thighs all but quivered with the need to wrap around his lean waist. Her breasts aching to rub against him. She pressed her spine firmly against the back of the chair in a desperate bid not to arch against him and purr like a love-starved kitten. “I won’t let you back out on the streets to prey on some poor unsuspecting innocent.”
Surprise, and something darker, something more sinister, flamed in his expression. “You think to keep me trapped here? You would sacrifice yourself to protect people you might not even know?”
She jutted her chin, defiant. Resolved. “If I have to.”
“Why?”
“That’s my business.”
“That’s no answer, little human.”
“My name is Kyanna.”
He assessed her in silence, though he didn’t back off, didn’t allow her even an inch of breathing room.
“You believe I would end your life. You think I would be a threat to other humans, so you think to trap me here inside this building. But ask yourself this, Kyanna—”
His heated stare dropped to her lips. The backs of his fingers skimmed up her arm, his touch feather-light. Gently, soft as the flutter of a butterfly’s wings, Xander caressed her lower lip with the pad of his thumb.
“What if I don’t”—his scorching gaze captured hers, and held—“kill you?”
Chapter Seven
He should never have gotten this close to her, but he hadn’t seemed to be able to stop himself. He should have learned his lesson earlier when he’d almost kissed her. When he’d almost lost control. The scent of her moved through him like lightning even now. Setting his body—dead to emotion, dead to hungers such as these for so long—aflame with need. Her lips were so close. So enticing. Just a few, slim inches from his own. Her sweet breath fanned his skin. Fanned the flames of need higher. Her breasts—so plump, so ripe—rose and fell, faster and faster. Beckoning him.
The darkness inside him swirled closer and closer to the surface. His mouth watered for a taste of her. Forbidden fruit.
The slap of her hand against his bare chest brought reason crashing down.
Sweet lord. He’d been that close to seducing her. That close to taking her whether she wanted to be taken or not. What had gotten into him? He couldn’t afford to be distracted, not like this.
Yet even with that knowledge sending icy waves of unease through him, he hungered for her still. She’d stirred desire in him. Appetites he’d long suppressed. Something no other woman had done since he’d left Lucifer’s rule. Perhaps not even before then. Not like this.
“No,” she insisted, but her hand trembled against him. She wanted him too. He could see it all over her face. It wouldn’t take much to turn that “no” into a “yes, Xander, oh God, yes.”
But he wasn’t here for sex. He was here for the scrolls. He jerked back, shoved to his feet, and returned to the sofa. Xander dropped his elbows to his knees, and he eased forward, regarding her solemnly.
He pressed his clenched fists to his lips for a long, tenuous moment.
“You want to exchange information?”
“I do,” she agreed. “An answer for an answer?”
Weighing his options, he dropped his laced fingers over his stomach. He despised bargaining. But he couldn’t see any other way around it. She was a stubborn little thing. And brave. Often a lethal combination.
But she’d singlehandedly done the one thing no one else ever had.
She’d effectively trapped him.
She’d captured the Slayer.
He’d tried to shimmer from the restroom. But he couldn’t leave. Something about the enchantments she’d cast over the building was blocking him, effectively locking his powers up tighter than a drum. All his powers. All but his gift to discern lies from truth. He couldn’t even conjure clean clothing for himself. And then he’d noticed she’d relieved him of his favorite blade. Insult to injury. Fury still battled with admiration over her daring. No one else could lay claim to that feat. This one little human had disarmed the Slayer.
But she was right on one point. He couldn’t bring himself to harm her. Why? He wasn’t altogether certain. He only knew that the very idea left him cold and hollow.
She intrigued him in a way no other had before. Her mind was quick, her spirit fearless. And her body was made for pleasure. He wouldn’t be averse to seducing the answers he wanted from her. Granted, that was more in keeping with Sebastian’s modus operandi, or Gideon’s, before he’d been cursed. But Xander could, theoretically, give it a try.
Kyanna had already proven susceptible to him. The pace of her heartbeat and her accelerated breathing were strong indicators. The dilated pupils and the way her hungry stare kept roving over him were all the confirmation he needed.
She was definitely attracted to him.
Stifling a groan, he leaned forward again, trying unobtrusively to readjust his painfully hard erection.
Seduction was not an option. The way she affected him might leave him at her mercy instead. But he was already too far into that trap as it was. And she was entirely too desirable. Good intentions and honorable quests might well fall by the wayside if he slipped past her defenses and got inside those delectable shorts. Dragging his ravenous gaze from the smooth flesh of her still parted thighs, he focused on her face.
