My mind goes blank except for one screaming word: DEMON! I hear it like a siren telling me to run. But my body won’t listen. It won’t move right.
I stumble back.
Samantha turns away from Tray to tell me something, but her breath catches, her eyes growing in terror. Tray sits up in a flash, grabbing her by the shoulders to pull her away as he gapes at the thing.
They see it. They see.
Demon. A demon. This is a—
It lunges at me, gnashing its teeth. But I scream, “Back!” And it’s as if something hits it on the side of the head, like a punch to the jaw.
The thing lumbers to the side, falling on all fours, huffing yellow breath from its lungs. Its head snaps around, grotesque features full of surprise as it growls at me, confused and angry. Did I do that? My eyes sting and my hands tingle, all the emotions and sensations mixed up with terror. I can’t tell, I can’t tell what’s happening.
The creature releases a garbled noise and then tightens its leg muscles, readying to pounce again.
I scramble back just as there’s a sizzle in the air in front of me. I sense something, a presence, like a shield between me and the demon. The creature’s features shift in an instant from rage and determination to utter terror.
It seems to be staring at something. Something in the space right next to me.
I look around but whatever it is, whatever is making the air change, whatever the demon is gaping at, I can’t see it.
TEN
Hunger
It watches. The demon Hunger watches the girl, Rebecca, emerge from the door where the witch lives. Something slinks in the shadows, a beast breaks through them and comes into focus, into the earthly realms, as the boy named Tray begins talking.
The lowborn is readying to strike. It eyes the humans from its hiding place. It doesn’t see Hunger, fool that it is, it doesn’t realize the master’s servant watches. And when its focus lands on the fire-haired Rebecca, it has blood on the mind, a longing for butchery seeps from its thin skin.
The girl doesn’t feel it, the shivering air, the corporeal beast made of the shadows, keying in on her. It shifts back and forth while it waits. It gurgles out impatience, wanting to tear flesh from bone with its teeth.
Normally there would be nothing to do but watch and revel in the carnage. Normally the course of action is clear. But this lowborn thing wants Hunger’s claim. It thinks itself free to break the pattern and kill flesh without permission from the master.
It must be seeking to please the Ava witch.
The demon Hunger keeps watch as the Rebecca girl hangs up the phone. As the simple-minded Samantha senses something putrid in their midst. And then the lowborn reveals itself, making contact. It shoves at the Tray boy, sending him tumbling to the ground.
Confusion and terror fill the air with a burnt tang the instant Rebecca spots the beast. Paralyzing revulsion hardens her bones, her muscles, keeping her from flight. Realization flickers in the eyes. Green energy stirs unused on her shoulders. And the lowborn readies to lunge.
But before it catches flesh, the Rebecca girl screams a command, “Back!”
Her green energy bursts from her shoulders down her arms, hitting the lowborn in the jaw with a shot of air.
The beast cowers as it scrambles back to its feet. It growls and shakes its head, dazed. But then it gathers itself, even more enraged than before. And it is clear, the Rebecca girl has no awareness of what she’s done.
So Hunger moves. The demon Hunger moves into view of the lowborn beast and stakes the claim. Warning and fury at the lowborn’s impertinence seeps from bones as a message.
And the lowborn is cowed. It mews and won’t look directly in the eyes, knowing its station.
The demon Hunger looms over the weak, shriveled beast of a thing. Rebecca looks on, scrambling for safety. The friends merely gasp and whimper, clinging to each other as they watch the low-beast cower near Rebecca’s feet.
Return to your pattern, Hunger growls at the lowborn. Or I shall give you to the fields of Ash and Shadow.
You do not know of the one that sent me? She is Queen. All must bow to her now.
No. Return or face the master.
The lowborn garbles out a complaint before it obeys, and Hunger watches it go, the beast slinking back into the shadow pattern, back into the earth where it won’t disrupt the order.
“We need to get out of here,” the girl’s shaky voice says. “I can’t believe it, I just—” her words catch in her throat as she helps her friend rise, and the boy takes them both in hand, leading them to a car.
Hunger follows close and finds his fire-haired human’s side easily. Finds the space just at the edge where she might hear. The demon waits. The demon Hunger waits for just the right moment of spirit silence. And then . . . there, a chance to whisper.
You are mine now.
ELEVEN
Aidan
Rebecca’s voice is frantic on the other end of the line. “It tried to eat me or something, I don’t know—it snapped at me and then it just—”
“Are you okay?” A demon tried to attack her. I wasn’t anywhere near her, and she was a target. Ava always liked Rebecca. But she’s still sending her minions after her? Is it part of the game? Or something else?
“Yeah, I think so,” she says. “I didn’t have my amulet on—I shouldn’t have stopped wearing it. I’m such an idiot. I—”
“Where is the demon now, Rebecca? How did you get away?”
“I don’t know where it went. It seemed to get scared. Of something. Something invisible—I didn’t see it, whatever it was.”
That idea sends prickles of warning over my skin. Scared of something Rebecca couldn’t see. Sounds like an angel. Or another demon. “Go get your amulet and put it back on right away. Then just come here to the club. Right away.”
“I’m definitely not taking that thing off again,” she says. “But I don’t think I can come to the club tonight. I just need to get home now, or my dad’s going to freak.”
“You shouldn’t be alone, Rebecca,” I say, feeling the distance between us grow even wider and not liking it. “It isn’t safe. There’s a lot happening and I—”
“Samantha is with me,” she interrupts. “And Tray’s taking us home, because I’m too out of it to drive. But I’ll be okay.”
Tray? I’ve heard about the guy in passing, Jax’s estranged half brother, but I don’t know why he’d be with Rebecca. I certainly don’t know enough about him to trust him with her safety. And Samantha seems fairly clueless from what I recall.
“Connor will want to come check on you,” I say, not sure how to ask about Tray, or how to explain everything that’s going on. Maybe I should just tell her to turn on the news.
“He can come over tonight?” She sighs like she’s relieved. “Oh, that would be—but no, he doesn’t have to do that.”
“Well, he will.” I pause, then just ask, “Why are you with Tray?”
Several seconds of silence pass before she says, “I’m not going to talk about that with you right now. I don’t need you getting mad at me along with everything else.”
“That’s not making me feel better.”
“I’m not worried about how you feel for once, other than how it affects me.”
The force behind her words jars me, making me pause before saying, “Okay . . . well, just let me know if you need anything. I’m worried about—”
“Yeah, I know,” she says, sounding tired. “I’ll put my amulet on and see you tomorrow, Aidan.” The line goes dead before I can say anything else.
TWELVE
Rebecca
I’ve been sitting in the living room, staring at the patterns on the Surya rug and chewing on my nails since Tray called an Uber to take him and Samantha home. My treat, since it was all pretty much my fault. I should’ve never let Samantha tag along with me to see a witch. I can’t let her get caught up in all my crazy magical mess. That girl is not prepared for reality. In the c
ar on the way home, we didn’t even talk about the demon, as if we were all trying to pretend it hadn’t happened. And even though we got away, I can’t stop wondering: Why didn’t it hurt me?
The sound of the doorbell nearly makes me jump out of my skin when it hums through the living room. I hesitate and then realize it’s probably Connor come to check on me. The guy needs to learn how to text me warnings in moments like this, after a demon attacks.
When I let him into the house, he steps over the threshold, looking around the wide-open entryway suspiciously before grabbing me and smothering me to his chest. “You need to be more careful. Where was the demon? My God, Rebecca, you could’ve been—” his voice catches and he squeezes me tighter.
“Connor, I can’t breathe,” I say into his shirt.
He releases me a little but doesn’t let me go entirely, resting his forehead against mine. I kiss his cheek and then tug him to the couch to sit. “I’m okay,” I say as we settle in beside each other. “And I’m going to be wearing my amulet from now on, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
“I can’t lose you to this craziness,” he whispers. The vulnerable look in his eyes makes my chest hurt. Then I realize how sunken they are, the dark circles under them, how pale he is. Even the smattering of sun freckles on the bridge of his nose looks dimmed.
“I’m okay,” I repeat, touching his temple. “But you aren’t. You look so sick. What happened?”
He shakes his head.
I scoot closer to him, leaning my head on his shoulder, my fear turning sour at the thought of how vulnerable he is, how much danger he’s in sticking to Aidan’s side.
“I can’t stand this,” I say, feeling it all fall on me like a lead blanket.
He just breathes and takes my hand in his, curling his fingers over mine. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he says. He shifts to face me, and I find myself studying his features, that lovely sun-kissed face. I want to be the sun and kiss that skin. Always.
I lean in and gently touch my lips to his jaw, tightening my grip in his.
His body stiffens at the soft connection. He leans back a little and looks me in the eye, a question there between us. And I marvel at the way he seems to understand me, the way he cares about me. Because in all this horror, there’s this thing between us. It’s more subtle than it was with Aidan. It’s a secret in my heart that I barely know myself.
I find my body leaning closer again as the thought comes to me. I graze my lips against his and release a sigh, feeling his warmth, his presence, like it could save me.
His hand pulls from mine to touch me, his fingers trailing a path over my leg, gripping my waist. I sink into the kiss, my urgency growing, and find myself getting lost in how much I want more. How much I want him. My hands turn to fists tugging on his shirt. My body moves as close as it can, pressing into his chest, my breath stuttering, mingling with his as his hands anchor me to him.
His fingers find the hem of my shirt, and calloused palms slip underneath, glide up my side, squeezing my ribs, flickering fire over my skin, bringing it to life. I gasp at the sensation, at the feel of his mouth on my neck.
The sound seems to undo him. He finds my lips again and leans into the kiss, forcing me down against the couch cushion, pressing with his fingertips at the curve of my hip as he settles between my legs. The cautious Connor is nowhere to be found now, his gentleness evaporated, replaced by desperation and need, his and mine. Because I ache everywhere, my whole body pulses with focus. On him, on the tastes and smells, the feel of it all as it consumes me.
I help him pull his shirt over his head. He tugs mine up more, starting to—
“Emery!” The shocked, angry voice fills the room. My father.
I yank my shirt back down and wiggle out from under Connor, my knees coming up to my chest, like making myself smaller will save me.
“What the hell is happening here?” he asks from several feet away. His suit jacket is on the floor at his feet as if he dropped it in his shock.
Connor doesn’t react as quickly as I do. His body moves away from mine slowly, his bare chest suddenly very obvious in the dark room. He mutters under his breath, “Shit,” and then releases a sigh as he pulls his shirt back on. Only after he’s put himself back together does he look at my dad. “Sir, I’m very sorry.”
“You bet your ass you are—you’re going to be.” My dad is so not a tough guy. I can see his face change from anger to confusion as Connor stands—all six feet and broad shoulders of him. That side of my dad that wants to kill Connor seems to be warring with the commonsense side of him that knows he’s an investment guy who barely ever works out.
I try to swallow but I can’t because my throat’s become a desert. “Dad, please,” I manage to say, not sure what I’m asking for. Don’t kill my boyfriend.
“I’m a jackass,” Connor says, putting his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders. “I’ll just go.” And he heads for the door.
I jump up and make it to his side, stopping him as he gets to the entryway. “Just wait.” Then I look over at my dad, giving him a pleading look. “Dad, can we take a second here?” I hadn’t really wanted these two to meet because the idea felt so alien, like then I’d have to choose between the two worlds I’ve been trying to juggle lately. I certainly didn’t want them to meet like this. But now, seeing both of them in the same room, my life suddenly seems much more average than it is. It’s actually nice to have a normal teenage problem; my dad caught me making out with a guy on the couch.
It’s almost awesome.
“Excuse me, Emery, but this young man needs to go,” my dad says in a tight voice. “Now.”
“His name’s Connor. This is the guy you were asking me about.”
“Rebecca,” Connor says, touching my arm gently, “he’s right, I should go.”
“This is the boy with the beat-up Jeep?” my dad says, as if Connor isn’t still standing right there.
“Connor, Dad. His name is Connor. And he’s my . . . well, he’s my boyfriend.”
I didn’t think it was possible for my dad’s eyes to widen any more, but they do.
Connor rubs his temple and shakes his head. “Rebecca, I’m leaving.”
“Stop calling her that!” my father suddenly roars.
Connor jerks back at the sound.
“No one calls her that,” my dad adds more quietly. And the thing he’s not saying rings loud in the air, Only Charlie called her that. My heart squeezes tight in my chest. “This is insane,” he says more to himself, running a hand over his forehead.
“Daddy, it’s fine,” I say, stepping closer, wanting to get that lost look out of his eyes. Because it is fine. And very normal. “I’m good, I promise. Better than good.” I want to say, When Connor’s with me I feel like myself again, innocent of pain, like before Charlie died. And I miss that feeling.
He looks at me for several seconds before asking in a calmer voice, “How old is he?”
“Please stop talking about him like he isn’t right here,” I say carefully, motioning to Connor.
Connor holds out a hand, like he’s trying to tell me not to defend him. “I understand. This looks bad.”
“Yes, it does.” My dad seems to deflate even more. “It’s also a very new experience for me.”
“It shouldn’t have happened,” Connor says, and I know he means it one hundred percent. He feels like he lost control, went too far with me. And he’s obviously unhappy with himself about it.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” I say, making them both look over at me in surprise. “You two are being crazy. Of course it should’ve happened. I’m a healthy sixteen-year-old girl, I’m not a nun, even if I’ve been living like one. I should be kissing boys and making out with them, but instead all I’m doing is feeling sad and lost, and I’m sick of it.” I pause and look between the two of them, but neither one seems to know what to say, so I add, “I’m going to be a normal girl now. I’m going to get into trouble and skinny-dip and get caug
ht by my dad making out with my favorite guy—a guy who makes me happy and safe and whole. Three things I haven’t felt in far too long.”
Connor’s lips tip up in a slight grin.
My dad’s mouth has come open a little in shock.
“So, who wants some ice cream?” I ask, straightening my shirt. “After all that, I need chocolate and guilty-pleasure TV. What do you think, Dad? Should we introduce Connor to Rehab Addict? And then we can discuss how grounded I am. Man, I haven’t been grounded in forever. It’ll be fun.”
I walk past them as they blink at each other. Silent questions bounce between them as I head into the kitchen.
When they pause only for a few awkward seconds before following me, Dad first and then Connor walking hesitantly like he’s not sure what else to do, I find myself considering a future, looking forward to it instead of fearing it, and the warmth that fills me nearly lifts me off the ground.
THIRTEEN
Aidan
When I hear the back door of the house open, I pull out of a sleeping Kara’s arms, throw my shirt on, and scramble downstairs to find Connor in the kitchen.
“Is she okay?” I ask. “Why didn’t you text me back? I was worried.”
“She’s fine,” he says, looking miserable, and then he puts a palm to his stomach. “But I think I shouldn’t have eaten that last tube of cookie dough. My gut is starting to rebel.”
“Cookie dough, huh? Did you have a pillow fight in your bras, too?”
He releases a tired sound, unamused. “We were kind of making out and things got—shit, I can’t believe I almost let that happen.” He shakes his head, looking like someone hit him in the jaw and he’s still trying to figure out which way is up. “I’m an ass. I wasn’t thinking. Her dad came home when we were in the middle of . . . stuff.” He shakes his head again. “Anyway, she was trying to smooth things over with him. Apparently she makes the guy pliable with junk food. A lot of junk food and HGTV.”
Darkness Savage (The Dark Cycle Book 3) Page 7
