by Nadine Mutas
Her head spun, and the earth threatened to tilt and toss her off her chair. She breathed in deeply, exhaled slowly, and grabbed the seat for purchase. Her heart stumbled on its too-fast rhythm. Cold sweat licked her skin. Damn, this was getting serious.
“You okay?” The shifter’s dark eyes studied her with disturbing focus.
Don’t show weakness. She locked her spine, but retained her hold on the seat cushion to conceal the trembling of her limbs. “Sure. Fine and dandy.”
She might be sitting here without being accosted, seemingly accepted by the bar’s patrons, but the fact was, they were all predators here, each and every one. And predators pounced on weakness like bargain hunters stormed stores on Black Friday. Vulnerability was an invitation, strength and power a requisite for getting respect.
The door to the bar opened, and even though Lily had her back turned, she knew with instinctual awareness who walked in. That dizzying charge of electricity, the one she felt when she first saw him, and again when she ran into him behind her house, it sizzled over her skin, raised the soft hairs on her arms and neck.
She twisted in the chair, her eyes locking onto Alek as he made his way through the throng of patrons. The crowd parted to let him through, demons and shifters alike skittering out of his way after one glance. She couldn’t blame them. He was a contained explosion of violence tempered with authority, everything about him—his expression, his stance, his movements—projecting the kind of don’t fuck with me attitude of someone used to being in charge—and used to enforcing that status. There was something primal, fierce, and yet inherently noble about the way he carried himself, bringing to mind images of ancient warriors bloodied in battle, yet living by honor.
And he moved with purpose—toward her.
The same thrall that held her spellbound and unmoving when he grabbed her wrist in the street after he killed the morbus now stalled the breath in her lungs as she watched him approach. Gods damn, he was a fine male specimen. His navy long sleeve shirt stretched over an impressive chest and broad shoulders, ridges and valleys of muscles visible underneath the fabric. Dark gray jeans hugged his narrow hips and strong thighs in a way that made heat curl in her lower belly.
He came to a stop in front of her and she realized with a start how rude it was to keep staring at his groin area. Swallowing, she focused on his face. The ambient lighting tinged his blond hair in a reddish glow, threw gentle shadows on his hard features. Stubbled jaw, long, straight nose, and expressive brows set over eyes which were currently black striated with flickering fire.
“Lily.” His voice, low and with just the right amount of scratchy to make her insides tingle, slid over her like rough silk. “Are you all right?”
She started to speak, croaked, and cleared her throat. “Um, sure.”
Alek glanced at the shifter and nodded in greeting. “Quentin. Thanks for calling. I owe you one.”
“And I plan to collect,” Quentin replied, a mild smile on his face.
Alek turned to her again. “Let’s find a place to talk.”
“Nice meeting you,” she said to Quentin as she stood.
Pain stung her soles, and she bit the inside of her lip to keep from wincing. She walked slowly so as not to telegraph the fact she was injured, following Alek to a cocktail table in another corner, secluded enough that their conversation would remain private. She looked at the table and groaned inwardly. No barstools, nowhere to sit. This would hurt. Suck it up, buttercup.
“You need to feed,” Alek began without preamble, studying the lines of her markings. “Like, right now.”
Her knees wobbled. Just a little, just enough to make her grab the table top. “How?”
“There are two main ways to take duh. Either you draw in someone’s breath, or you drink their blood. Breath is more convenient.” He waved a hand. “Gets less messy.”
She grimaced. “Breath it is.”
“To take it,” he said, leaning in over the table and holding her gaze, “you have to get up real close to your prey and inhale their breath with the intent of absorbing their life force.” When she wanted to ask again how to do just that, he tapped his head and added, “You have to visualize it. It’s a mind thing, a switch you have to flip right in here.”
“This brings back uncomfortable memories of that one time when a friend dragged me to that New Age guru’s workshop.”
The corners of his mouth twitched up, and the lines around his eyes crinkled. “You may have to try several times, but I’ll help you through it.”
Sobering, she grasped the edge of the table tighter to stave off another wave of dizziness. “Why?”
“Well, it’s hard to visualize it at first. Most duhokrads need practice to get it right when they transition.”
“No, I mean, why are you helping me?”
He was quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her legs rubbery. Or maybe that was another bout of near-fainting due to whatever was changing her. Drumming his fingers absent-mindedly on the table, his gaze still holding hers, he said, “I can’t just let you suffer on you own. Wouldn’t be right. You need help, so I’m giving it to you.”
“That’s mighty noble for a demon. Especially considering I’m your enemy.”
“Used to be.” His hand stilled on the table. “You’re one of us now.”
Her heart cracked a tiny bit. She pushed that hurt down, locked her knees to keep standing, but still, the haze in her brain grew, the dizziness taking over. She swayed, and her hands slipped off the table top.
“Whoa.” Alek caught her, his strong arms winding around her waist, pulling her to him.
Reflexively, she grabbed his shirt. Male heat and power enveloped her, and his scent stroked along her senses. Autumn winds and wood fires. Her lips parted as she drew in his essence.
“You should bottle that,” she whispered—and hey, what happened to her verbal filter?
“I don’t think we have time to search for prey in the city.” His mouth was level with her eyes, and, for the life of her, she couldn’t tear them away from his lips. “There’s another way.”
Those lips, though. Hmmm…
“It’s not as good as a full feed from a human source, but it’ll tide you over until tomorrow night.”
The one on the bottom had just the right amount of fullness. To nibble on. To lick…
“It’s called duhodar, one duhokrad giving a boost of energy to another.”
…to suck.
“Lilichka. Are you listening to me?”
“Huh?”
He put one finger under her chin and tipped her head up until her eyes met his. “I can give you breath.”
Chapter 5
Lily’s eyes—glazed over, little flecks of red sparking within the usual indigo depths—finally focused on his.
“I can give you duh,” he repeated. His thumb stroked over her cheek for a moment, for a heartbeat. “It’s an intimate connection. Do you understand?”
She nodded, then shook her head. Her gorgeous dark blue eyes widened when it hit her. “You’re gonna kiss me.”
“Basically, yeah.” He didn’t point out that a lip-lock was not usually necessary in order to exchange duh by breath. There was only so much gentlemanliness he was capable of all at once.
She focused on his mouth again, and her pink tongue slipped out to lick her lips. He held back a groan. Not making this about sex was already hard enough. That visual prompt did all sorts of wicked things to his mind—and body—inappropriate as it was, considering the situation.
“Well, okay,” she said slowly, the sweet scent of her arousal twining around him, proving she was just as affected by him as he was by her. “But don’t get any ideas.”
You mean beyond the ones I already have? “You’ll feel my duh as an energetic push, a kind of warm tingle that goes beyond just breath. When you feel that, make sure you breathe it in. You need to picture pulling that energy inside. The rest will work itself out.”
> “A’ight,” she slurred with all the proper enunciation of a drunk.
Time was running out. Her razvitiye was so faded, it was barely a tinge darker than her skin tone.
He turned them around so her back was against the wall and his body shielded her from the other patrons. Sliding one hand to the nape of her neck, he angled her head up as he lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips were warm, inviting, and a flash of heat and desire lit up his nerve endings while he finally, finally kissed the female he’d been fantasizing about for months now. The one he never thought he’d be able to touch, let alone make out with.
Yet here she was, melting against him, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, curling into his pecs. She opened her mouth to him further. He valiantly fought to keep his need in check, to start gathering his duh and transfer it to her, but when she tentatively pushed her tongue into his mouth, licked over his lips, he was done for.
Groaning in the back of his throat, he met her tongue, played with it, the intimate touch sending a thrill through his system, down to his groin. His cock hardened and pushed against the fabric of his jeans. Her arousal flavored the air, intoxicating, delectable.
Somewhere in the back of his mind warning bells sounded off. Stop this, now. As much as he wanted to keep kissing her, it wasn’t right, not like this.
He focused and gathered part of his duh—a radiant, burning flow of energy suffusing his whole system, its incandescent center in his chest—and pulled it up. Infusing his breath with its power, he exhaled into Lily, bestowing his life force upon her. She jerked when she felt it. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she pushed closer to him, pressing the length of her body against him while she sucked his energy inside her.
Holy fuck.
He’d heard about what it was like to exchange duh with an unrelated adult female, but no description came close to the overwhelming reality of it. Her pull on his energy triggered an electric shock of pleasure, zapping through his veins, his muscles, down to his toes. She felt it too, if the explosion of lust in her scent and the stifled moan humming in her throat were any indication. His groin tightened to the point of pain. Part of him flowed into her, fused with her essence, bound her to him. And fuck if he didn’t want more of him inside her, to feel her clenching around him while he claimed her as his in the most primal of ways.
Her body undulated in his arms as she breathed him in. Feverishly, with growing urgency, she rubbed herself against him, her belly stroking over his hard cock in moves that made thinking all but impossible. And yet he had to check out of this, for both their sakes.
With more effort than it would take to rein in a horde of four-year-olds on a sugar high, he broke the kiss and drew back. His breath, now only carrying the normal amount of duh again, came in short, brutal pants. Lily followed his retreat, her mouth seeking his, but he held her gently at bay. She whimpered her protest. Her eyes snapped open, meeting his with fire-streaked obsidian.
“Shh. It’s enough.” Just to make sure it really was, he checked her razvitiye again. The symbols were now a light brown henna. It would do. He pushed aside the neckline of his shirt to examine his own razvitiye on his shoulder. As he’d thought. He’d given her about half his life force—good thing he’d just fed, or he’d be dead by now.
He looked back at Lily. “How do you feel?”
Her eyes were still a storm of red on black, her cheeks flushed with color. “Wired. Like I had a huge cup of coffee. And—” She broke off, the blush taking over her whole face and neck.
She didn’t have to finish that next sentence. The violent streaks of sexual arousal in her aura, as well as the alluring scent of her feminine desire, spoke loudly enough.
“Yeah, that.” He couldn’t hold back the grin itching to take over his face. “Happens sometimes after a feed.”
“Right.” She pulled her arms from his neck and cleared her throat.
He took her hint and stepped back a little to give her space. “You’ll probably crash soon.” She frowned, so he explained more. “If what you’re going through is anything like the normal transition to maturity for our kind—and from what I’ve seen so far, that’s what it looks like—your body’s working in overdrive to change your metabolism to demon. It burns a helluva lot of duh, and it means you’ll tire quickly and need more rest than usual.”
“I feel fine.”
“Give it a few minutes.”
“No, really, I feel like I could totally stay out all night and—” Her knees buckled and her breathing stuttered.
He grabbed her shoulders and held her up. Her eyelids drooped, and her head lolled to the side. And here we go…
She jerked up again. “I’m awake. I’m awake.” Her hands flailed, then grasped his shirt. She stood still for a few seconds, her breathing flat, staring unfocused past his shoulder. “Okay, maybe I’m not fine.”
He exhaled and nodded. “You need to lie low for a while. I’ll take you to my place.”
“No funny business, Mr. Duho-crush.”
“Duhokrad,” he corrected her with a smile.
She waved a hand. “Tomay-toes, tomah-toes.” Her tone was light, but he felt the tremor in her aura.
She was alone, faced with changes beyond her comprehension, no friends or family to support her right now, and she was about to go home with an unfamiliar male who used to be her enemy. Yeah, he could see how it would frighten her, even if she’d never say so out loud.
“Would it help you trust me,” he asked, acutely aware of how his rough hands felt on her silken skin, “if I swear on my mother’s ashes not to touch you without your consent?”
Lily snapped her head up, her heart missing a beat at his words—at the solemnity of his tone. His eyes—black speckled with red right after he’d given her duh, now gold-rimmed silver again—held hers, unflinching, without blinking, displaying an earnestness that moved her.
“Would you?” she asked softly.
“Yes. If that’s what it takes to make you feel safe with me.”
He really meant it. He’d swear on his mother’s ashes, and every line on his face, the erect way he held himself, the calm yet determined pattern of his energy told her he wouldn’t give an oath like that lightly. Many people these days threw vows around as if they were small change, having lost all sense of the binding magic a verbal pledge like that used to hold. The male in front of her, however, seemed to not only remember the inherent power of an earnest vow, he respected it.
Something deep inside her shifted.
“I believe you,” she said.
“I haven’t made the vow yet.”
“You don’t need to. I can see you mean it.”
He stared at her a moment, then nodded once. “Let’s go.”
When he took her elbow as they walked, she shook her head. “I’m okay, really.”
He studied her closely, saw far too much while he assessed her stance, the way she moved. A frown creased his forehead, and he looked down at her feet. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s a scratch.” She tried to hold in her wince when she stepped on a crumb on the floor. A fucking crumb, and it felt like someone stuck a serrated pincer up her sole.
“Show me your feet.”
“It’s really not my fetish.”
“Lily.”
With a hopefully sufficiently annoyed sigh, she lifted one foot for him to see.
“All right, that’s it.” And before she could so much as squeal her protest, he’d scooped her up, one arm under her knees, one behind her back, and was carrying her out the bar.
Instinctively, she looped her hands around his neck. “That’s so not necessary.”
“Your soles are shredded.”
“A flesh wound.”
“You can’t walk.”
“Can too. The Black Knight always trium—”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure you could still bite my leg off. Got it. Doesn’t change the fact I’ll be carrying you.”
A smile blooming in her che
st, she stared at him. “You totally got that reference.”
He winked at her, his lips curving up. Not a lot of guys she met could pick up on when she quoted Monty Python, let alone run with it and play along. And none of them had a grin that could melt her core.
“You should have told me your feet are injured.” The admonishment in his tone. Pfft.
“Oh, is that the secret duho-cracker code for ‘pick me up and haul me around?’ I gotta remember that.”
He gave a noncommittal grunt and kept carrying her down the empty street, around a corner and into an open parking lot. Stopping in front of a black pickup truck, he murmured, “Hold on.”
She tightened her grip around his neck as he let go of her back and fished his keys out of his pocket.
“You can put me down.”
“Nope.”
“Believe me, my dainty female feet won’t disintegrate on contact with the ground for the few seconds it takes you to unlock the car.”
“Shush.”
He unlocked the truck while still holding her, opened the passenger side door, and set her down on the seat with a gentleness that shook her. She was still perturbed by the level of care he took with her when he got in the driver’s seat and started the engine.
Desperate to fill the tense silence while squashing whatever was stirring inside her, she blurted out the first question that popped into her mind. “How long have you worked for Arawn?”
His hands gripped the steering wheel harder. “Almost ten years.”
“How did you get into his service?” she asked, because, apparently, her social filter, which should have yelled “sore spot—change subject,” had decided to take the rest of the night off.
It took her a moment to realize the crunching sound wasn’t the tires crushing gravel but his teeth grinding. “He enlisted me against my will.”
“I take it he can be very persuasive.”
“Worse than a kid blackmailing you to get a cookie.”
