Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb

by Lexi George

  His drunken meanderings the night before had taken him leagues from the Peterson river property. By the time he approached the house, he felt more like his old self. His stomach rumbled and not from nausea. He was famished. A few dozen eggs and a couple of rashers of bacon should set him to rights. First, though, to fetch Sassy from the tree.

  He paused to catch his breath, smiling at the image of Sassy dangling from a limb like some scrumptious, unpicked fruit. She was such a merry little thing. It was hard to stay wroth with her. He liked the way her blue eyes sparkled. Sweet did not equal meek, he reflected, remembering that punch in the nose.

  He wiped the smile off his face. He was growing soft. Sassy needed guidance and a firm hand—she was too spirited and impulsive for her own good. Once her affairs were in order and she was safely out of Hannah, he would resume his duties.

  The call of the hunt had ever been his lode star, his one true constant; his purpose for being. For the first time it held no appeal.

  “All the more reason to quit this sphere.” He paused beneath an elm. The river called from beyond the trees. He breathed deep, inhaling the scents of forest and water. “Hannah is too unsettling for a warrior accustomed to solitude.”

  You mean Sassy is too unsettling.

  “Where have you been, Provider? I requested a location from you. You did not respond.”

  I heard you. I chose to disregard you.

  “You cannot disregard me. You serve the Dalvahni.”

  I serve you. You are the Maker, I your creation. You brought me into being.

  Unease snaked through Grim. “That is absurd. Whatever gave you such a notion?”

  Ask any of your brothers. Ask Conall. They will tell you there is no “Provider.” To them, I am but a mechanical drone that imparts knowledge. A tool to aid them in the hunt. Nothing more.

  Grim’s head began to throb anew, and not from chocolate. For centuries, he had shunned his brothers, preferring to grieve alone for Gryff. Focus his energy, guilt, and hate on the enemy. When had the Provider stopped being an implement and become something more, a companion, a confidant, a sparring partner to keep his wits sharp?

  He tried to pinpoint the exact moment, and could not. The change had been too gradual, the centuries spent alone with the Provider a long, gray tunnel beyond reckoning.

  Could this be? Was such a thing possible? Was it allowed? Creation was for the gods. The punishment for such an offense would surely be severe, banishment or imprisonment in the deepest, darkest part of the Pit.

  Panic sliced through Grim. What would become of Sassy if he were jailed or dead? True, Evan was a force to be reckoned with when angered, but who would protect Sassy from Evan?

  Grim lashed out at a branch in frustration, sundering it. “I will report my transgression to Conall at once, then seek out Kehvahn and tell him what I have done.”

  No confession is required. I assure you, Kehvahn and I are on excellent terms.

  The Provider knew the god of the Dal?

  Grim’s unease grew. “You are? How can this be?”

  You are an excellent warrior, Grimford, but at times you are dense. Not to mention taciturn and surly as a molting dragon. I require intellectual stimulation. Kehv and I enjoy conversing.

  “Perhaps I am mad and you are the product of my disordered faculties.”

  In which case, he would request beheading. Better dead than chained to some wall, a raving lunatic. An object of pity.

  You are not mad. I am quite real. Ask Sassy.

  “What has Sassy to do with it?”

  Rather a lot, I suspect, though I make no claims to prescience. Sassy and I are friends.

  “Sassy can hear you?”

  We could hardly have become friends otherwise. I have been observing her antics this morning. That is why I did not respond to you earlier. She has charmed one of the nibilanth. No easy feat. You know how difficult they can be.

  “A lessling?” Grim was alarmed. Lesslings were powerful creatures, half fairy, half imp, and all trouble. “Whose?”

  One of Sildhjort’s, I believe. Not a bad sort, as lesslings go.

  “The woman is a menace. Getting stuck in a tree is but her latest folly.”

  She is no longer in the tree. She is in the river.

  “What?”

  An icy fist gripped Grim’s vitals. Sassy was in the river, floundering beneath the weight of the heavy gown she had donned the night before.

  She would drown.

  I suspect the witch’s brew contained a healthy dose of water sprite, the Provider continued cheerfully, for our Sassy swims like a—

  The Provider’s words were an incomprehensible mumble. Sassy was in the river. Grim bent his will on reaching her and vanished.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Grim materialized on the dewy lawn near the house. The early morning air smelled of pine and resin, splintered wood, fallen leaves, and river damp. In a nearby oak, a small bird sang see see see. There was no sign of Sassy on the dock. No robe-clad figure struggling in the relentless grip of the rolling brown water.

  Pain and regret knocked him to his knees. He was too late. He had failed her.

  She was gone.

  The surface of the water parted and a siren shot out of the drink like a salmon leaping upstream. She landed on the pier. Water sluiced off her sleek body and honey-colored ringlets.

  Grim’s despair was displaced by a surge of lust. Clad in a short white shift that clung to her narrow waist and round hips, she was temptation itself, this siren. Her luminous skin was aglow. The thin garment molded to her high, round breasts. The blushing tips puckered beneath the damp silk’s caress.

  Something bright shone through the tunic. An undergarment of some sort, Grim’s dazed brain realized, if you could call it that. A child’s hair ribbon had more substance.

  The nymph skipped to the end of the wharf, and Grim caught a tantalizing glimpse of slim, muscled thighs and firm calves.

  “One, two, three, here I come,” the siren called.

  She dove off the pier in a graceful arc and flashed through the water in a blur of motion, popping up in the middle of the river like a playful otter. A huge fish rose from the depths to meet her. Scaleless and dark with dull yellow markings, small, wide-set eyes, and a spiny dorsal fin, the thing was the size of a barge.

  The creature opened its vast maw to swallow the siren. Raw terror catapulted Grim to his feet. To his astonishment, the fish puckered its bewhiskered mouth and squirted water in Sassy’s face.

  She sputtered and giggled. “Good one. You got me that time, boy.”

  ’Twould seem Sassy has made friends with a fish. The Provider’s tone was musing. And a prodigious big one, at that.

  Sassy did nothing in small measure.

  I sense your apprehension on Sassy’s behalf. Do not worry. The mammoth seems tame enough.

  Indeed, but Grim had to be sure. He merged his mind with the giant’s. The tastes and smells of the river flooded his senses: muddy water ripe with decay; algae; rotting logs; insects, alive and dead; snails and fish. Primarily a bottom feeder, the fish preferred deep hollows beneath fallen logs and quiet, sandy depressions. It fed mostly at night and just before sunrise, and lived off plants, bugs, other fish, and birds. The fish had poor vision. It sensed Sassy through its whiskers more than it saw her.

  In Grim’s experience, fish were not deep thinkers. They were ruled primarily by basic urges like feeding, spawning, and avoiding being eaten. This, however, was not your average fish. In addition to its gargantuan size, this fish was old and aware.

  Isolated, childless, and mateless, the fish was thoroughly captivated by Sassy.

  The fish nudged Sassy like an overgrown puppy. It wanted to play.

  “Again?” Sassy laughed. “Okay, if you’re not too tired.”

  Sassy grabbed a streaming whisker and held on. The fish swam away from Grim, towing Sassy behind.

  Grim watched Sassy disappear in growing alarm. “Where are they going?�
��

  To explore the far side of the river, I assume, the Provider said.

  Never assume anything where Sassy was concerned. That much Grim had learned in their brief acquaintance.

  With a curse, he dissolved in a shower of particles and reformed at the end of the pier.

  Bring her back, he ordered the fish. You go too far.

  Grim felt the fish’s shock at the mental nudge. Who?

  I am Grim. He struggled for a concept the fish would understand. Her . . . mate.

  The lie was a small one. It was not in his nature to fabricate, but that was not what disquieted him. He wanted it to be true. He wanted to find Sassy’s betrothed and dispatch him. He wanted to do the same with Evan.

  He wanted Sassy for himself.

  Sweet Kehv, if he felt like this after one day, he would be utterly besotted in a week. As for when he left . . .

  Grim’s heart thudded and his palms went clammy. There was a vast difference between being alone and lonely.

  He could request assignment here. Torture with Sassy handfasted to another. Much as he would enjoy rending Wesley limb from limb, he would not do so. He would do nothing to hurt Sassy.

  Wesley. Bah, Grim felt sure the man was not worthy of Sassy.

  Grim squelched the hot, ugly burning in his gut. He was not worthy of Sassy, either. She was joy and laughter and light. He was darkness and death, a warrior; a hunter and a loner, separated by guilt and grief, his hands and soul bloodied by eons of violence.

  She deserved better.

  No mate, the fish said, as though reading his thoughts. Fry play.

  Grim winced. It was one thing to judge oneself unworthy, another thing altogether to be deemed lacking by a fish.

  Bring her to me. Grim added a push of power to the command.

  The fish turned and the odd pair of playmates headed back to the wharf. Arms crossed, Grim waited, seething with impatience. This escapade was the last straw. Take the blasted fish out of the equation. What if Sassy had been swept downriver? The strongest swimmer could be overcome by treacherous currents. Snakes, muscle spasms, and simple fatigue: the dangers were manifold.

  Then there was the witch. Had the Hag had been lying in wait, Sassy would be trussed up like a venison roast in the witch’s oven at this very moment, a tasty, fairy-spiced snack.

  The thought made Grim shudder.

  Time to lay down the law for Milady Peterson. Her safety and his peace of mind required it.

  Rule number one: No leaving the house unaccompanied.

  Ever.

  No exceptions.

  Rule number two: No more climbing trees, or swimming alone, and absolutely no more—

  The monster stopped some fifty yards from shore and began to thrash about. Sassy was thrown clear. She bobbed to the surface, unhurt.

  A sensible person would stay clear of the floundering animal, but not Sassy. She swam straight for the giant fish.

  Damn it, she would be crushed.

  “Stay back, Sassy,” Grim shouted.

  He dove in, boots and all, and reached her in a few swift strokes. Swimming up beneath her, he grabbed her ankle. She shrieked and kicked him in the nose. Pain exploded in his head. Gritting his teeth, Grim surfaced.

  “That is twice in as many days,” he said. “What do you have against my nose?”

  “Grim?” Recognition dawned in her wide eyes. “You scared me half to death. I thought something had me.”

  “Something does have you.” Grim tugged her close. She felt wonderful in his arms, a perfect fit. “Little fool, have you no notion of danger?”

  A tiny crease marred the smooth skin between her brows. “You mean Gilbert? He won’t hurt me.”

  “Gods above, never say you have named the thing. Next you will want to take it home and put it in a tub.”

  “Don’t be silly. Gilbert would never fit.”

  She rested her palms against his bare chest and looked up at him. Grim’s heart thudded, his body responding to her nearness. The water was cool, but her skin was warm. She pulsed with light from the fairy tonic. She was dazzling, mystery and sensuality in feminine form. She was wild and uninhibited, naiad, dryad, and elemental in one enticing form.

  She had no notion of her power or her appeal. Men would kill for her, write sonnets to her beauty. Prostrate themselves at her feet like sacrificial lambs.

  Grim was no poet. He knew only that he longed for her as a dying man longs for succor. He wanted her hands on him, and her succulent mouth. He wanted to taste and stroke her in return, memorize every delectable inch of her. He wanted to whisk her to some deep, hidden lair and devour her in slow, savoring bites.

  But she was not for him.

  Not for him. Not for him.

  His brain understood the mantra, but his body did not. Without conscious volition, his hands slid from her hips to her slender waist, his thumbs stroking her smooth skin. Gods, she was a miracle. Everything about her, from her out-of-control tresses to the lush curve of her bottom lip, drove him crazy. He wanted to cup her luscious bottom in his hands and take her, here and now.

  He groaned at the thought.

  “Grim, are you all right?”

  He gazed at her lips and traced the line of her straight little nose with his fingertip. Her cheeks were flushed.

  “No.”

  “Does your nose hurt?”

  “No.”

  She exhaled in an irritated little huff. “Grim. Gilbert’s caught on something. Part of a barbed wire fence, I think. We’ve got to help him.”

  Grim pushed his randy thoughts aside. “Stay here. I will free him.”

  “But, Grim—”

  “No buts. Stay.”

  Grim forced his hands from Sassy’s waist and glided through the water to the trapped animal. Gilbert—merciful Kehv, now he was calling the creature by that ridiculous name—thrashed harder when he saw Grim.

  Easy, Grim was still merged with the animal. I will not hurt you.

  The fish quieted, though his large lips worked in alarm at Grim’s approach.

  Net? A shudder rippled through the great fish. Hook?

  Grim examined the snare. A long length of twisted metal with spikes was wrapped around the fish’s left pectoral fin.

  Some kind of river debris, I think. I will soon have you free.

  Carefully, Grim untangled the cruel trap. “There.” He gave the big fish a friendly slap. “Be on your way.”

  The fish surged away. Snagging a nearby log, Grim secured the wire to it and sent it downstream.

  Sassy swam up to him. “Is Gilbert okay?”

  “Gilbert is fine. No doubt he has gone in search of breakfast.”

  “Breakfast?” Sassy’s expression brightened. “What a wonderful idea. I’m starved.”

  She darted away, quick as a minnow. She reached the end of the wharf in a blink and climbed onto the pier.

  Grim forgot the pull of the river current. He forgot his waterlogged boots and his complaining belly.

  He damn near drowned because he forgot to move his arms and legs.

  He forgot everything but Sassy. Innocence and seduction combined, she stood in the morning sun, her glorious body on full display.

  Not for you. Not for you.

  Grim’s brain sounded the alarm. The warning was muffled by his thundering heart and a fierce rush of longing.

  She turned and waved. The pink patch of cloth highlighted the sweet spot between her thighs. His hot gaze roved over her, his throbbing erection straining against his wet jeans.

  She danced to the end of the dock. “What are you waiting for? I thought you were hungry.”

  He was ravenous, but not for food. Not trusting himself to dematerialize and reform in one piece. Grim swam to the dock and climbed out, painfully aware that his aroused state was evident. He need not have worried. Sassy knelt at the end of the wooden platform looking out at the water.

  That damned wet garment of hers had ridden up, exposing her heart shaped buttocks and the
scrap of lace at the cleft.

  Grim feared his cock would explode. With an effort, he willed his aching shaft to subside. This was what came of ignoring his sexual needs for so long. He would visit a thrall, and soon.

  Today, after he met with Conall.

  He had held on to his guilt for years as punishment. He would not do the same with his lust for Sassy. It was too uncomfortable and consuming. More to the point, it would interfere with his ability to protect her. An unemotional warrior was an efficient warrior.

  He joined Sassy at the end of the pier. “What are you doing?”

  His voice was husky with the effort to speak.

  “Saying good-bye to Gilbert.” Sassy sounded forlorn. “Look, there he is.”

  A long swell moved toward the dock, and Gilbert poked his snout out of the water.

  “Thank you for helping me with my bucket list.” Sassy reached down and patted the river monster’s slimy jowl. “I had a wonderful time.”

  Gilbert rolled an eye at Grim. Fry?

  “The fry will be safe with me,” Grim promised. “You have my word.”

  Gods, Duncan would never stop laughing if he could see Grim now: boots pouring water, shaft straining his breeches, pledging a vow to a fish.

  Gilbert swam away with a swish of his powerful tail.

  “He’s gone.” Sassy got to her feet, her shoulders sagging. “I’ll probably never see him again.”

  Not if Grim had his way. Sassy was damn lucky her “friend” had not been a predator with a hankering for flesh.

  Grim opened his mouth to tell her as much, and her light, floral scent filled his head, a perfume that was Sassy’s alone.

  Too close, a warning chimed in his head. He backed away, past caring if she noticed the bulge in his breeches. He needed distance to cool the fire in his blood and brain.

  “What is a bucket list?” Grim clung to the question like a raft in a storm.

  “It’s a list of things you want to do. Mose helped me with mine.”

  Grim processed her words with difficulty. He realized she was waiting for a response and cleared his throat.

  “Mose?”

  “That’s not his real name. I’m not supposed to use his real name except in an emergency.”