To Win a Demon's Love

by Nadine Mutas

  She had to get home. It wasn’t that far. She only needed to incapacitate him enough to give her a head start—and hope to the gods that she could still run.

  With a grunt, the demon jumped to his feet. Eyes blazing with red and black leered at her. Another life leech? This was not the one she’d run into before. Where were they coming from all of a sudden? Was there a convention going on?

  Cold sweat broke out all over her. The mad thump of her heart pounded in her head, the sound off somehow. Like a huge machine working against pressure, stuttering. A milky film glided over her eyes. She shook her head and blinked to clear her vision.

  The demon charged, his movements a blur. She slid to the side, evading him. Or that was what she wanted to do. Her muscles had a different idea, turning to rubber on her. Those traitors.

  She crumpled to the ground, the life leech on top of her. His hands pressed down on her shoulders, grinding her back against the concrete. Maybe if she tried her powers again—reaching deep, she searched for the familiar spark of magic, for the glow that had lit up her soul since she’d turned six and came into her powers.

  Empty. Throbbing. Nothingness.

  Duck a fuck. This couldn’t be happening.

  The demon grinned, looming over her. “We’re gonna have a lot of fun together, you and me. Can’t wait until I get you home.” He reached for the club again.

  Ugh. He wanted to abduct her? Images of her stuck in a pit while the creep lowered down lotion in a basket flashed through her mind, made her shudder. Focus, Lily.

  She spat in his face and used the second he reared back and loosened his hold to knock her forehead against his nose. The bolt of pain from the impact was so worth it.

  “You bitch!” The demon’s voice came out garbled through the blood spouting from his broken nose.

  “You’re not putting me into a pit,” Lily muttered while kneeing him in the ribs right where she’d cut him before.

  Her muscles were cooperative enough to let her elbow and kick her way out from under the life leech. He was so busy trying to breathe past the pain from her knee jab that he couldn’t even hold her back. The fountain of blood gushing from his broken nose and the reflexive flood of tears impairing his vision didn’t make things easier for him, not that she gave a fuck.

  Somewhere in the scuffle, she’d lost her dagger and the dart. Well, a good old kick to the head would have to do to buy her time to escape. Lying on her side on the ground, she drew back her leg and slammed the heel of her stiletto straight against the demon’s temple. He grunted and fell over.

  There. That ought to give her a fighting chance to get home.

  Muscles spasming, her vision flickering in and out, she scrambled to her feet and swayed for a second. Shit, that drug got her bad. She gulped in a lungful of pine-scented night air and ran.

  Throwing a glance over her shoulder while she raced toward the Murray mansion, she checked on the demon. He was on his feet, but wasn’t following. Stumbling, holding his sliced side, he fled in the other direction. Good riddance. She’d still sic her mom and Baz on the bastard once she made it home, even though chances were slim they’d catch him or find out where he ran.

  She maintained her pace as well as possible with rebellious muscles and bones that seemed to be disintegrating. No reason to risk that demon coming back, or some other creature deciding she was snack material.

  Through her wobbly vision, she finally spotted the high, wrought-iron fence of her family’s grand house. Just a few more feet and she’d be past the magical wards cast around the property. Once she was inside the guarded perimeter, she could crawl the rest of the way. Yeah, crawling sounded good.

  Air sawed in and out of her lungs, leaving painful tingles in its wake. Every nerve in her body ached. She felt crappier than the half-digested squirrel the neighbors’ dog had upchucked on the sidewalk last week.

  She halted in front of the gate and fumbled for her keys in the tiny black purse that had miraculously survived the hellrat fight plus the demon attack. Her hand shook as she unlocked the gate. The air felt heavy, thick, charged with a buzz, as if she was close to a power line.

  Just inside the perimeter, the wards shimmered translucent, invisible to human eyes. To a witch or otherworld creature, they appeared as a colorless, fluid shift in the air, like a desert mirage. And they’d strike down any unwelcome visitor—demon or anyone meaning harm to the Murrays—with enough force to fling the intruder across the street. While possibly frying every hair on their body.

  She pushed the gate open with one hand and was about to step on the property when an electric tingle shot up her arm—the one touching the wards. Frowning, she paused. She glanced around, scanned the deserted street behind her.

  No time to dwell on peculiarities. She had to get inside. Who knew what the demon had shot her with and how long she had until it made her pass out. Her mom could run some magical tests and check what kind of date rape drug coursed through her system, and then she could administer an antidote…or Lily could simply sleep it off.

  She stepped over the ward line. Power zinged over her skin, through her body. Her heart stuttered, then hopped like a cat on hot asphalt. She stumbled, catching her breath. Another step—which felt like walking against a strong air current—and she was inside the perimeter. She laid a hand on her chest, her pulse a flutter in her throat.

  What in the gods’ name was going on? This had never happened before. It was almost as if…the wards were reacting to her. Which was a load of bullshit. As a Murray witch, she was of course cleared to pass the magical protection, and until this time, it had never felt like more than a pleasant breeze.

  There had to be a glitch in the wards. Maybe it was time to recast them and her mom had just forgotten to do it in time, and now the spells acted all wonky.

  Shaking her head, she trudged toward the flight of steps to the front entrance. When she passed the rose bushes, which were still in full bloom thanks to the lingering Oregon summer, she did a double take at the intensity of their fragrance. It was like walking through one of those clouds of perfume the sales reps liked to spray-chase you with at Macy’s. Whoa. Definite olfactory overload.

  “I think it’s time to call it a night,” she muttered to herself while she unlocked the front door. “Too much weird stuff happening.”

  The trembling and aching of her muscles had subsided, only to be replaced with such intense hunger it felt like she was digesting herself. That figurative hole in her stomach had to be the size of the Grand Canyon. Was this what coming down from drugs felt like? She’d never taken any, so she had no clue whether it was a side effect of whatever was in that dart.

  All right, she had to wolf down something before she woke her mom and had her poke and prod her magically to counter the drug. She passed through the foyer, sticking to the walls to avoid walking underneath the massive chandelier, as she’d done ever since she was a kid—who knew when that suspicious thing would decide to crash down?—and barged into the kitchen.

  “Damn, Lil, you look like something not even the cat would drag in.”

  She shot a dark glance at Basil, who was sitting at the kitchen island, clad in pajama pants and a loose T-shirt. Just peeled himself out of bed apparently.

  “Charming as ever, bro,” she muttered as she walked past him, opened the fridge, perused it for a minute, and growled. “What happened to the leftover tacos?”

  “Ate ’em.”

  “And the tamales?”

  “Made their final journey into my stomach.”

  “The salad?” Was there a hitch of despair in her voice?

  “Had to be finished before it went all squashy.”

  With a groan of frustration, she turned and glared at him. “I swear you eat like a horse. On steroids!”

  An easy shrug of his shoulder. “That’s rich coming from the woman who gobbles up whole Thanksgiving turkeys by herself.”

  “That was once. And I’d been starved for a week.”

 
; She’d gotten all four of her wisdom teeth pulled at once, and since her aunt Isabel had allowed no one to magically heal her afterwards—saying it would spoil the Murray children if they never experienced the fragility of health—Lily had lived off soup for days on end until she could finally eat something solid again. Which unfortunately happened to be on the day of Thanksgiving, and…well, she hadn’t been able stop herself with the turkey.

  “And you barfed for about a week afterwards,” Baz pointed out kindly.

  It had been a bad judgment call.

  He grinned, and as always, it was so damn infectious that she snorted into laughter after trying to fight her amusement for a minute. She could never really stay serious around him for long, his calm but serene nature dispelling even her foulest moods. Being twins, they’d always been close, even if their tempers differed as much as their appearances—put next to each other, people never guessed they were related at all. Her eyes were blue, his brown, her hair was inky black, his was dark blond, and the only gene they seemed to share was for height. They used to make jokes about not having the same father—until their mom got so upset about it that they stopped.

  “All right, sis,” Baz said, his brown eyes sparking. “If I make you a sandwich, will you stop your whining?”

  She started to salivate. Baz’s sandwiches were famous, not just in their family, but throughout the entire witch community. Friends dropped by at random times, casually mentioning how they hadn’t had the time for lunch, and Baz—being the caring fool he was—whipped up something taste-buds-seducing delicious in no time. He might be without powers as a rare male descendant of a witch line, but, oh boy, it sure seemed like he was magically gifted when it came to preparing food.

  Baz opened the fridge, got out the toppings, and laid them out on the table. An unholy growl rose up from her stomach, which was well on its way to transforming into the Hulk. She watched Basil move, her attention caught by the soft glow around him. She squinted. What was that? His normally faint human aura became brighter, sharper, and…yummy.

  Her hands shook. The trembling spread, took over her body, until every muscle vibrated with the urgent need to…what?

  “So,” Baz said as he was slathering cream cheese on the bread, “I take it your night out with Len ended in some kind of fun fight?”

  She inched closer, drawn by an invisible force, her eyes locked on his broad back, his heartbeat an enchanting rhythm to her ears—wait, his heartbeat? How on earth was she able to hear that? She blinked, sucked in a breath, and tried to shake the sense of driving need pounding through her veins.

  “And is that blood on your forehead, or did you have an especially shaky hand when you applied your lipstick?”

  Hunger clawed at her insides. Her vision narrowed, focused on the vibrant, strong human life in front of her, and her breathing went hunting quiet. Kill.

  “Lily?” The male turned. His pulse stuttered, his face paling. “Your eyes…”

  She crouched, flexed her muscles—and lunged. A blur of movements, and then she had the human on the floor, her hands around his throat, claws digging into his skin. His life force pulsed, so bright, so delicious, so strong.

  “Lil, stop…” A pained rasp, his hands pawing at her wrists, trying to break her hold.

  To no avail. His human strength was no match for her power. His feeble attempts to fight her only incited the predator within.

  Darkness curled in the deep, permeated her mind. Her every fiber ached, craving new energy. The kind of energy that flowed through the human’s veins, shimmered warm around him, curled into golden puffs with every breath leaving his mouth.

  Take. She just needed to take it.

  She frowned, ground her teeth, her claws pricking his skin. Thin streaks of blood trickled down his throat. Her insides knotted together. Sweat broke out on her forehead, her back. His life force glowed, mocking her with its enticing potency. She was so close. So close. She leaned in. All she had to do—

  A crash outside the French doors to the backyard startled her. Gasping, she loosened her hold on the man—Basil, her brother—and scrambled off him. She stumbled to her feet, her hand pressed against her chest. The floor fell out from under her. What had she done?

  Baz coughed, massaged his throat, and scooted away from her. His bloodshot eyes found hers, and there was terror in them. His neck was red from the wounds her claws had ripped—claws. Fucking claws.

  What kind of monster have I become?

  Footsteps sounded outside the kitchen door. Magic stirred the air, seeping in from the foyer, announcing the powerful witch about to enter the room. Lily’s pulse kicked up. Mom. Ice-cold fear gripped her chest. No, no, no. I can’t let her see me like this.

  She glanced toward Baz, who was still clutching his blood-streaked throat, his face red from her lethal choke-hold, then raced toward the huge French windows leading onto the back deck. The door to the kitchen opened.

  Lily was out the French doors before her mom set foot in the room. The chill of the night hugged her, cooling her sweat-slick skin. Heart pumping in overdrive, panic freezing her mind, she ran. Across the deck, down to the lawn, to the other side of the yard. Her bare feet hit the wet grass, then the mulch at the edge of the property.

  Without thinking, she scaled the fence, barely registering that she managed to jump over the six-foot enclosure with the ease of a pole vaulter when she’d always sucked at anything jumping-related in PE. She landed on the other side with the grace of a feline predator—just before she stumbled over her own feet and crashed face-first into a brick wall.

  The wall moved.

  Strong hands grabbed her arms, and she jerked at the telltale trace of demon aura touching her senses. It was him. That life leech bastard who’d shot her was back. Adrenaline powered through her. Panic made a comeback, and she kicked and punched to get away.

  “Stop.” The guttural growl made her heart stutter, set her instincts on edge.

  She bit the next best part of exposed skin she could reach. His curse colored the air, and he loosened his grip enough for her to twist out of his hold. Her heart beat so fast and hard, it hurt her chest, made her dizzy. Every mouthful of inhaled air stung her lungs. Run.

  She made it three panicked steps before a freight train of male strength hit her back, and her face hit the mulch.

  Well, crap.

  Chapter 3

  Alek eased through the opening in the fence that allowed access to the property bordering the Murrays’ backyard. The rain had let up some time earlier, but the ground remained wet and slippery, so he took care maneuvering through the undergrowth, even though he could have found his way blindfolded. After coming down this path several nights a week for months, he’d all but memorized every pebble and root.

  He stopped underneath an old fir whose canopy always provided excellent cover from rain showers. The spot also offered an unobstructed view of the Murrays’ backyard, as well as the mansion, which was why it was popular with the sentinels sent here to watch the witch home.

  Only now the spot was empty. He scanned the shadows, his demon vision sharp enough to see even small details without additional light. Where was he?

  “What took you so long?”

  Alek turned toward the male voice drifting out of the shadows. A few feet away, the air shimmered like a desert mirage, then a dark silhouette peeled itself from the night, solidified into the shape of a burly man. If the other demon hadn’t chosen to reveal his form, Alek wouldn’t have been able to spot him, even with his heightened senses, courtesy of the concealing spell of Arawn’s dark making. The Demon Lord made sure to keep his people hidden from prying witch eyes.

  Alek nodded a greeting at Lachlan, the sentinel on duty. “Got held up.” It had taken much longer than he’d planned to get the morbus alone, and then Lily showed up and his world stopped for a minute. As it always did when he saw her.

  “Mhmhm. I was getting worried there. Not like you to be runnin’ late.” Lachlan’s grin slash
ed white through the night. “Your female keep you?”

  Alek scoffed. I wish. There was only one female he’d want to have keeping him, and she didn’t even know he existed. Or rather, hadn’t known. Tonight that had changed. After Lily saw him taking duh from that morbus, and he’d just barely stopped her from blasting his ass, she sure knew he existed. Not that it would change anything else.

  Besides providing more fodder for his pathetic fantasies about a witch he could never have, that is. The way she looked in that tight dress, the way her wet hair clung to her shoulders, skin glistening from the rain, the electric warmth of her touch when he held her wrist. And she’d seen him, really seen him, their eyes meeting for the first time. For a second there, the briefest moment, her face softened when she looked at him, her lips parting… Yep, that mental image would definitely star in his dreams.

  Alek rubbed his hand over his face, then nodded toward the mansion. “Anything interesting happen tonight?”

  Lachlan shrugged. “Nope. The MacKenna girl came downstairs for a while, but she’s mostly been in her room. The Elder witch is sleeping, the younger one’s gone out, and the male is in the kitchen.” He shook his head, gaze on the sprawling house. “That human can eat.”

  Just another night, then. “Okay, I’ll take it from here.” Alek clapped the other demon on the shoulder.

  “Have fun.” Lachlan handed over the bespelled necklace that held Arawn’s concealing charm and left.

  “Don’t I always?” Alek muttered, donning the necklace and turning toward the Murray mansion.

  The lights were on in the kitchen, allowing him to see right into the room, his enhanced eyesight able to make out Basil Murray sitting at the kitchen island…eating. Alek checked his phone. Shortly after two. If Lily took the last train, she should be home any minute now.

  As always, his stomach coiled and knotted with conflicting feelings at the prospect of seeing her. Part of him hoped she’d show up, allowing him to catch another glimpse of her. The highlight of watch duty. As much as he was looking forward to seeing her, though, he dreaded it at the same time. Being forced to watch someone he’d fallen for against all reason and sense, knowing he could never have her the way he craved, it chafed at him. If only she were a duhokrad demon, like him…