by Michele Hauf
“Did she bite you?”
“I wouldn’t let her. It was tempting. I understand the bite is orgasmic. Oh, uh, sorry. I shouldn’t talk like that around you.”
“Why not? We’re both adults. I am a grown woman.” And she was feeling more of herself with every moment she sat near Savin. He’d toyed with getting bitten by a vampire? Jett traced the bottom tip of her canine tooth. It was sharp, but not as pointed as usual without her sheen. “I know things,” she said. “Trust me, I’m not an innocent.”
“All right, then.” He considered his glass, and Jett sensed his sudden discomfort.
“Vampires! So many creatures walking this realm,” she tossed out to break the tension. “All the things we once thought were only make-believe. All of them predators and prey.”
“I’ve never been prey and don’t intend to start. Trust me on that one.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Hand me the bottle. Let’s finish it off.”
She grabbed the bottle and went up on her knees to slide closer to Savin, setting the bottle on his thigh. When he gripped it, she placed her hand over his. He turned his head, and the scent of him invaded her pores on a tease. As a woman, she had needs. And those needs screamed for satisfaction right now. A new turn at satisfaction, actually. One that she might not regret, or that would leave her shivering in revulsion.
“My turn to ask the questions,” she said. “Or rather, I’ve a request.”
He studied her hand still resting over his, and she released him so he could pour the last inch into his glass. He tucked the bottle on the other side of his thigh, then said, “Shoot.”
Boldness had been bred into her over the long and unending years of her exile. And she was feeling her mettle now that she’d begun to acclimate to this realm. Jett touched the ends of Savin’s dark hair and swept them over his shoulder. With the back of her forefinger, she traced along his neck up to the bristly beard hairs. He was warm, much more so than she’d expected. Fiery, even. But never dangerous, at least, not to her darkness.
“Do you think I’m pretty, Savin?”
Now his gaze locked on to hers, and she felt the heat of him scurry over her skin. It danced about her arms and torso and tightened her nipples. Mmm...he was not a man to be ignored.
“I do.”
“Do you remember when we were kids and I asked you to kiss me and you said you couldn’t until we were older because we’d have to be married and you’d probably have to like girls to do so?”
He nodded and, with a tilt of his head, chuckled softly. “You remember that? I’ve always respected women. My mother taught me that.”
“Yes, you are a kind man. But. Are we old enough to kiss now?”
Her finger wandered over his chin and followed the line of hairs below the center of his bottom lip. She traced lightly over his mouth. All the while his gaze was intent on hers. Desire smoldered in his deep dark eyes. And she could smell it on him, even though it was a scent that had usually offended her. Not so from Savin. He was a real man. Not a demon.
“Kiss me,” she whispered. She moved nearer until their noses were close enough to brush. He smelled like the brisk Paris air and fiery whiskey, with a rich earthy tang of man.
“Jett, I—”
“Yes?”
A hush of his breath played over her lips. “Are you sure?”
“I never ask for things I don’t want. That’s a waste of words.”
She ran her fingers along his cheek and back through his hair.
She would not kiss him. He must come to her. Otherwise, she would not know if he was merely doing as she asked or if he genuinely wanted to. But the heat of his body so close to hers was incredible. Tempting. And she felt dizzied, yet also emboldened by the alcohol. If he refused her request, it would crush her.
When his mouth met hers, the connection felt tentative for but a moment. Savin’s hand slipped along her neck, gentle but guiding, as he tilted her head to better receive the taste of his desire. He invaded her with his presence in a way she had never known. And she wanted to keep it. To know him as only adults could know each other.
His mustache brushed her upper lip, and their noses nudged. Eyes closed, she gripped at his wavy hair. Their intense connection rocketed up the delicious tingle that began at her mouth and coiled rapidly throughout her body. Jett slid a leg over his lap, her knee hitting the whiskey bottle, and straddled him. He slipped a hand along her back, not breaking the kiss, instead keeping her firmly in place upon him.
She wanted to taste him, to drink the whiskey from his tongue. That wish was granted as he dashed his tongue along the seam of her mouth. Such a spectacular sensation giddied up her spine. The man’s throaty groan clued her he enjoyed kissing her as much as she did him.
His tongue was hot and slick as he tasted her teeth, tongue and her lips. She copied his movements, daring him into a deep dance that ignited the coil of want in her belly, and lower. It was not a sensation she had known—too easy, too comfortable—and it alerted her for a few moments, but she would not let him know her caution rose. The width of his hand spanned her back as he gentled that sudden anxiety with the realization that he might only protect her and—if she was lucky—give her pleasure.
He must. She deserved it.
Bracketing his face with both palms, Jett tilted her head, seeking to devour his whiskey sweetness. When she brushed her hard nipples against his chest, again the man moaned. Yes, she liked his reaction. He was under her command now. And that empowered her.
Yet when he slipped out his tongue and kissed her mouth, then bowed his forehead to hers to end the kiss, she wanted to greedily pull him back for another. So she did. This time the clutch of his hand against her hip was more urgent. And his other hand slid over her derriere and squeezed.
She wanted to feel his body against hers, skin to skin, to know what his muscles felt like flexing with movement, melding against her body, and to own him.
But she was getting carried away.
Jett lashed her tongue along Savin’s lower lip, then met his gaze.
“Whew!” he said.
Exactly. And kneeling over him, firmly in his embrace, she could sense...something similar within him. The demoness he claimed had hitched a ride to this realm with his escape? The Other. Her presence was faint, barely a shimmer that traced the man’s veins. And yet she wanted Jett to know of her presence.
Oh, she was aware.
Jett thumbed Savin’s mouth. “I’ve never been kissed like that.”
His eyebrow quirked.
“Actually, I’ve never been kissed until now.”
“You’re—Really?”
She nodded. “Finally, that kiss you promised me when we were kids has been granted. And don’t think you have to stop giving them to me.”
“That was an intense kiss. A guy would never know you’d not done such before.” He looked aside. Were his thoughts going to places she didn’t want them to go?
Jett kissed him again. She would claim this man, body and soul. Because that was what she did to survive.
Chapter 6
There was only one way to be safe, and that would mean relinquishing the power Jett had gained since living in Daemonia. She felt sure she could accomplish the task. She would never return there. Not even if a sexy reckoner decided her time was up.
However, to let go of what she had gained would be a supreme sacrifice. She’d not yet dared to test those powers here in the mortal realm. Perhaps they were already diminished?
But first, she needed an answer to a question that had haunted her all through her absence. And the only way to do that was to locate her parents; one or both. Though she suspected her mother might be the best bet, according to what Savin had told her about her father moving on after her disappearance.
Her father. He could be the missing key. What did she really know about h
er father?
She’d asked Savin if he could ask his mother about her parents. Since they’d lived so close when they were children, and she remembered their mothers being friends, perhaps Madame Thorne could aid in her search. With luck, she would have an answer to her oft-wondered-about question soon.
Teasing her finger along the granite countertop in Savin’s kitchen, Jett marveled over the simple stone. Nothing like this in Daemonia. There the minerals and earth had been volatile and ever changing. One could never take a step without being certain one’s foot would land on a solid or moving surface. It was good to be home. Almost home. Would she ever call a place home again?
Savin wandered in from the bedroom. The man wore loose-fitted jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that struggled to contain his biceps. “I’m heading out for some groceries, and I just got a text from Ed, the corax demon I reckoned for yesterday. He was the one who sensed the gates to Daemonia were opening, and was there the night you came through. He isn’t sure Certainly’s spell to close the rift is holding.”
“And who or what is Certainly?”
“Certainly Jones is a man. A dark witch.”
Yet another person of whom she should remain wary. Witches never survived Daemonia. The dark ones did like to conjure from that source, and such invocations never seemed to go well. At least, not for the demon.
“I thought you were the reckoner,” Jett said. “How are you involved with wrangling demons? Do you hunt, as well?”
“Nope. Don’t like to hunt. Dead giveaway, too, because demons sense me as easily as I sense them. But I’m in on this whole keeping-the-rift-closed adventure, so I’ll help Ed and CJ any way I can. You going to be okay here by yourself for a while?”
“Of course. I’m a big girl.”
“That you are.” His eyes twinkled, and Jett remembered their kiss last night. She would take another from him soon, if she had her way. And she generally did. “Any requests for food?”
“No, but if you could call your mother, I’d be appreciative.”
“Right. I haven’t forgotten. I might stop by her place today. She lives in the sixteenth near the park now. Has a nice little apartment. She’s going to flip to hear you’re back.”
“Is that a good flip or a bad flip?”
“My mother knows about me and the demon stuff. She says she believes me, but I also know she can’t bring herself to label her son crazy, even though she suspects that could be a possibility.” He shrugged. “Such is life. I’m going to pick you up a phone while I’m out, too. Not that you need to start texting and taking selfies, but it’ll be a good way for us to keep in touch when I’m gone.”
“You are too generous, Savin. I feel as if I owe you so much already.”
“Don’t think like that. I’m glad I can offer you a place to stay. It’s nice having someone around to talk to.”
“And kiss,” she offered, following him to the front door.
“And kiss.” He turned and looked down at her. He was too tall and wouldn’t be able to get close enough for a kiss without bending his knees. But Jett waited anyway. For a few seconds they held gazes. He seemed...nervous. “Uh, I should go, then.”
“Kiss me first. I want to make up for lost time.”
He leaned down and his breath hushed against her ear as he spoke. “It’s impossible to get back time.”
“Time grows longer when you kiss me.”
His eyebrow quirked, followed by a slow smile that punctuated his cheeks with subtle dimples. Now, that was impossible to resist.
Jett initiated the kiss that lured her to her tiptoes and into the burly man’s embrace. His arms wrapped about her back, and her body tilted against his. Their connection grew lush and deep. She moaned against his mouth. Pleasurable vibrations sparkled in her chest and shimmered lower. Standing in Savin’s arms stirred her wanton instincts. This was a new feeling. Yet it teased at her darkness. How she wanted to push him against the wall and tear off his shirt—
“You sure do like my kisses,” Savin said as he pulled away. “Or else you’ve had a lot of practice.”
“I told you last night you are the first man I’ve kissed. I’m glad for that. And you tempt me to want to kiss you all day. Hurry back. I want to start up where we’re leaving off.”
“I like the way you think.” He winked, then opened the door. “See you in a bit.”
The door closed behind him and Jett felt the wards zap at her. Stepping back with a skip, she hissed at the intrusive repulsion. It was more an annoyance than anything. But now as she glanced about the kitchen and living room, she realized she was once again imprisoned. Even if she didn’t mind the prison so much this time around, she could not breach those wards without pain.
She had to find her own place. Her own identity. And yet she wanted to do that and keep Savin in her life. He fit her. It was as if they had never been separated.
This time her smile came easily as she spun into the kitchen.
Jett opened the fridge door and inspected the contents. Lots of sandwich meats, cheese wedges and bottled energy drinks in wild colors. She was a little hungry but had yet to figure out her appetite. She grabbed a bottle that boasted a protein-packed chocolate elixir and tested it.
“Not terrible.”
Drink in hand, she wandered about the place. It was cool and quiet. The skylights beamed in subtle sunlight. Nothing too bright. She suspected it would take a while to fully adjust to the daylight. But the part of her that took comfort from the darkness prodded at her. Stay in the dark, it nudged. Dark is safe. Dark is home.
Rubbing a palm over her upper arm, Jett winced. Yes, the darkness was a safe and tempting place. There was so much light here in the mortal realm. Had her decision to escape here been wise?
Standing in the center of the living area, she suddenly felt lost, abandoned. Like a nine-year-old child who had been thrust into the unknown. Her cries would never be heard or comforted. She needed safety. So she began to allow the sheen to dissolve—
“No!” Jett lifted her head and fisted a hand at her side. The fall of her sheen stopped. “I can do this. I will do this. I am human.”
And her dark half, defeated for the moment, slunk away into the shadows. But she would continue to lurch up closer and closer until Jett could no longer keep her back. How could she? That darkness was her reality.
She smirked. Savin had an incorporeal demon inside him? In a way, they were two alike. Jett had no idea how to ask him for help with her problem. And best she not. No reckoner was going to calmly take her by the hand and treat her kindly should he learn her truth.
Tilting back half the bottle of protein drink, she set it on the wooden chair arm and forced herself to think of anything but her past. Because that was where it now belonged—forgotten in the past.
Her eyes moved about the vast brick wall behind the couch. So many guitars. And the odd one with a single string he’d made himself. Fascinating. Savin practiced musicomancy? She wasn’t sure how that magic was utilized, but it didn’t sound like something she wanted to experience. Especially when wielded by a reckoner.
On the other hand, she needed to be smart and remain aware. Never look away and always glance over her shoulder. It was a motto that had helped her to survive. Best she learn everything she could about the use of music to invoke magic.
Jett strummed her fingers over the six nylon strings on one guitar. It sounded soft and simple. She imagined Savin could make the instrument sing. As he’d made her insides sing when kissing her. She was not a woman who could be satisfied with mere kisses for long. The man was an inferno, and she wanted to plunge into him. Flames were her sanctuary. It was where she felt most powerful.
Wandering into the bedroom, she approached the freestanding cabinet that stretched as high as her head. Half a dozen metal objects sat on top of it. Crawling onto the high bed, she stood on the mattres
s and leaned over to catch her forearms against the cabinet top. There were six different metal cases and objects. Brass housings edged them all and intricate carvings decorated the brushed metal surfaces. Wooden pieces were fit in here and there, and some gears and even a combination dial were attached to one of them. They resembled intricate navigational devices from a time long ago. Some had symbols embossed on the metal or burned into the wooden surfaces.
“Sigils,” she said with knowing.
A few she recognized as demonic. She knew the words for them but would not speak them, for she could not know what such a recitation would conjure in this realm. Obviously, Savin also had that knowledge.
“His means to track demons?” she wondered as she tapped the cover of one case. But no, he’d said he did not hunt them. Which could only mean... “A device to reckon them back to Daemonia.”
It was shaped like a book with an elaborate multitier brass wheel on the front and a dial in the center that did not turn to numbers but rather alchemical symbols. More sigils circled the wheel on four levels. Jett turned the center dial and heard a click. She tested the cover to see if she could open it; it did not. She supposed there was a code or series of turns to open it, much like a combination lock. The vibrations that hummed from the device were weak, yet she sensed it was perhaps honed to work only for a specific user.
Jett did not like being kept out of a secret whether it be delicious or dangerous.
With a sneer, she set that one aside and traced a fingernail over a circular device that featured metal bars jutting out from the center, and at the end of each bar was a small black crystal. Savin had mentioned he made these things. The craftsmanship was stunning. He was talented. As she moved a fingertip over each crystal, the device shook. It felt her.
