by Nadine Mutas
He was pretty proud of himself, especially since he also managed to avoid getting caught by Seth and his guys, who were undoubtedly combing the town for him. By now, Seth would have figured out it was Drake who stole the vial, and he was coming after him with a vengeance, of that Drake was sure. Seth would want the vial back, or—once he realized Drake had used it—he’d want to claim the result.
And that, Drake could never allow.
He peeked around the corner of the railroad car he was hiding behind, checked on his female and the scum she was with. Luck was on his side tonight—she still wasn’t mated. He sneered at the other male’s weakness. That demon had to be a fucking sissy for not having claimed her yet. Well, his stupidity played into Drake’s hands.
“We can check out one more spot before sunup,” the weak-ass male said to Lily.
“All right.” She followed the SOB toward an old sewer pipe, the nearest entrance to the tunnel system, which was, as usual, protected by demon wards that would drive both witch and human away with powerful compulsion.
Drake’s heart raced, his hands shook. Though he’d hoped to find out where they holed up for the day, and to ambush them there when they were resting, he couldn’t chance following them underground. Last night he’d lost them when they entered the tunnel system. He couldn’t risk losing them again.
The chances of the male claiming Lily rose exponentially the more time she spent in his company. Drake couldn’t waste another day. He had to act now, even if it meant going up against the other duhokrad, who—for all his failings to take charge and make Lily his—still possessed enough power to pose a real threat. Drake wasn’t stupid enough to discount that danger.
He just had to be quick, strike fast and hard enough to incapacitate the other male so he could snatch Lily. Calculating the best angle from which to hit and still retain the element of surprise, he scanned the ground, picked up an old piece of rusted metal pipe the length of his forearm.
That should do the trick.
Alek could see the demon wards hiding the entrance to the sewer pipe shimmer as they drew closer.
Scanning their surrounding for signs of movement, Alek heard the clink of a pebble on metal a split second before a shadow registered in the upper periphery of his vision. He whipped up his head at the same instant he barked for Lily to get down, and jumped to the side.
Not fast enough.
Pain exploded in his skull, reverberated down his spine, and the world blackened. Somewhere behind him, Lily screamed his name. His mind locked on to the sensation of the attacker’s aura—demon, male, hot with rage—and he struck out in that direction. His fist connected with flesh and bone, and the other demon grunted. Light seeped back into his vision just as the attacker brought down his weapon again—and whacked Alek straight in the face.
The blow slammed him to the side, his head crashed against the edge of the railroad car, and everything went dark.
In the midst of the black fog around him, he fought for consciousness. Sounds of struggle registered, grew louder, clearer. Lily. With teeth-gritting stubbornness, he yanked himself out of the abyss of darkness, willed his body to function. He sucked in air, the metallic scent of blood heavy and consuming, and forced his eyes to open, his limbs to move.
A few feet away, the female who held his heart fought against the grip of another duhokrad. Alarm fired up his nerves, propelled him to stumble to his feet. The world swayed in and out of focus. Fucking head wound. He clenched his jaw, ignored the pounding pain in his head and staggered forward.
He was about to lunge at the other demon when Lily executed a series of martial arts moves that were beautiful in their efficiency—and sent the other duhokrad face-first onto the ground in a few seconds, with Lily on his back holding his left arm in a vicious hammerlock.
Alek grinned, deep satisfaction and grim pride at his female’s fighting skills filling his chest. Yeah, their demon attacker made the fatal mistake of underestimating Lily’s ability to defend herself, even without her witch magic. Served him right that he should eat dust for that alone.
“Is that the fucker who shot you?” Alek rasped as he staggered over to them, his mind still playing funny balance tricks on him. It required a Herculean effort to just walk straight.
“Sure is.” Lily increased the pressure of the armlock, and the demon shrieked. She glanced at Alek while grinding her knee into the spot between the bastard’s shoulder blades, sparks of fiery red dancing in her eyes. “Are you okay?”
He nodded, and a wave of nausea swamped him. “Just a scratch.” Fuck if he was going to let that damn head wound get to him.
Lily narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll call you on your bullshit later. Right now, I have some questions to ask of you,” she growled at the male in her grip. “How did you make the serum to turn me?”
“Like I’m just gonna tell you,” the demon ground out.
Lily leaned down further, escalating the pressure of her hammerlock. “Do you want me to dislocate your shoulder?”
The duhokrad groaned. “Fuck you.”
“So that’s a yes, then?” She twisted his arm farther up his back.
White-hot pain spiked in the demon’s aura, and he screamed.
Lily kept his arm in the tighter position. “Talk.”
“I don’t know how the serum was made!”
Lily stilled, her eyes a storm of fire and night, her jaw clenched so tight the muscles flexed. “How could you not know?”
Alek sucked in air, realization a dawn of trepidation in his bones. “Because he wasn’t the one to make it.”
Whipping up her head, Lily stared at him. “What?”
Alek growled, went down on his haunches, grabbed the other duhokrad’s hair and yanked his head back so he could look directly into the jerk’s eyes. “Who are you working with?”
The demon spit on Alek’s boots.
“Answer me or I’ll snap your neck.”
Brittle sounds fell from the other male’s mouth, and it took Alek a second to realize he was laughing.
“They’re gonna come after you,” the fucker said, straining to look at Lily on his back. “Even if you kill me, they’re gonna find you. They need more successfully turned females. You’re too valuable for them to let you go.”
Alek gritted his teeth. “Who?”
A tremor flashed through Lily’s energy. Nostrils flaring, she twisted the demon’s arm up again. “There are others like me?”
The duhokrad cried out and then laughed some more. “Did you think you were the only one?”
She gasped, her face losing all color. “The missing witches.”
Rage a fire in his blood, Alek yanked on the demon’s hair again. “One last time, you slimy piece of trash—who else is in on this?”
A whisper in the night…and then the air vibrated with magic. A ball of power slammed into Alek’s back, making him keel over into Lily. He rolled with it, gritting his teeth against the explosion of pain across his shoulder blades, shielding Lily with his body.
“Run,” he whispered in her ear. “To the sewer pipe. Tunnels.”
She sprinted toward the entrance to the underground grid the second she and Alek rolled to a stop, and he ran after her an instant later. Another blow of magic missed her by a foot as she dashed away. He glanced back, darted sideways to evade the next spell thrown at him.
Three witches came running toward them from several yards away, active power a radiant glow around them in the dark of the night. One veered right in pursuit of the other duhokrad, who was hightailing it out of the rail yard at a breakneck pace.
The air crackled with more gathering witch magic. Alek focused ahead again, doubled his speed despite throbbing pain in his head threatening to make him keel over, his back burning where the first spell had hit him.
Lily had reached the sewer pipe, skidded inside through the shield of protective demon magic. He followed her a second later, dashed past her to the hidden trapdoor. As soon as the spell gave
way under his touch, he cranked the handle, yanked the door open, and jumped in first to check for danger.
“All clear,” he shouted up.
Lily hoisted herself down, pulling the door shut above her. The clank echoed in the tunnel, sending the musty, earthy air swirling around them. The thick darkness was broken only by small lamps hung intermittently along the rough-hewn walls, providing enough light for most demon species’ eyes.
He put his hand on Lily’s lower back, nudged her forward. “Keep going.”
Though it was highly unlikely that the witches could break through the wards, it wasn’t impossible. The more distance he and Lily put between them and the witches the better. Plus, the tunnels really weren’t the best place to hang out and take a break.
“We need to find a safe spot where we can stop for a moment,” Lily said as they jogged down the tunnel.
“Are you injured?” He shot her an assessing look, worry twisting his stomach.
“No.” Her eyes flared red in the dark. “You are. And don’t you dare grumble at me now. We’re going to stop somewhere, and I’m going to check you.”
Warmth spread through his chest at her concern, at her determination to take care of him. Although he still snarled a bit. He did have a male reputation to uphold.
Chapter 18
“Wait a second.” Lily gaped at the black velvet walls, which were drenched in atmospheric red lighting, while Alek closed the door to the stairway leading up from the tunnel. “Is this Nine Circles?”
“Yep.”
“And it has its own connection to the underground grid?”
“Yep.”
“That is so cool.”
Alek grinned over his shoulder at her, the jarring flickers in his aura belying his nonchalant facade. That male had a dressing down coming, thinking he could pretend he wasn’t hurt in front of her.
Approaching a demon waitress, Alek said something to her, and she nodded to her right. He steered Lily toward one of the more secluded corner booths, his hand on her lower back sending pleasant shivers to her core. The background music twined around her senses, the beat low, its rhythm seductive.
Pulling aside the heavy, blood-red curtain which shielded the booth from view, he led her inside. When the curtain fell back into place behind them, it was as if they were enclosed in a luscious cocoon of privacy. A low, ornately carved table made of darkest wood stood in front of a couch, its fabric a luxurious shade of gleaming dark red brocade. The throb of the music’s rhythm filtered in through the curtains, hummed over her skin.
As soon as they sat on the couch, the curtain lifted to the side and the demon waitress entered the secluded booth. She placed a towel and a bowl of water on the table and left again.
“For your wounds?” Lily asked, eying the mass of red matting Alek’s hair on one side, the bloody bruise on his cheek.
He nodded, then winced and grimaced.
When he reached out to the bowl, she slapped his hand away and dunked the towel in the hot water. “Let me.” Scooting closer, her thigh pressing against his, she carefully dabbed at the wound on his face. “Aren’t you worried about appearing injured in a bar full of demons?”
Dark blond lashes lowered down to his cheeks, and when he opened his eyes again, the silver in his irises was radiant. “Ava would never tolerate an attack on one of Arawn’s people in here.”
“Ava? The waitress?”
He shook his head, then apparently remembered that wasn’t such a good idea, his jaw clenched in a hard line. “Ava’s the succubus who owns Nine Circles.”
“Succubus, huh?” Chest twisting with a hot, dark feeling that aggravated her in its irrationality, she wrung the washcloth hard over the bowl.
When she turned back to Alek, it was to see him with a decidedly pleased smile tugging at his mouth, his eyes glittering in the low light. “My dealings with Ava have always been business in nature.” He curved his hand over her thigh, making her feel her heartbeat in low, low places. “Never pleasure.”
The possessive satisfaction that filled her at that was even more irrational than her jealousy. Like she had a right to him.
But maybe I want to. The thought whispered through her mind, took root inside the cracks spreading through the wall around her heart, widening them.
Maybe…just maybe this wouldn’t have to end. What if…she kept him after she turned back into a witch? He’d made it clear he wanted more—perhaps he was open to continuing their relationship, see where it took them. It didn’t have to be the real deal right away, didn’t mean they had to get married. If she didn’t have the pressure of a deeper commitment looming over her, she could try to give this a chance.
“You shouldn’t have lied to me about being injured,” she said to him, using the washcloth to remove as much blood as possible from his hair. The wound now visible on his scalp turned out to be small, which didn’t mean much. Head injuries bled like hell.
“Look who’s talking, Ms. Shredded Soles.”
She paused, slanted a glance at his face. “Touché.”
He still had his hand on her thigh, was now drawing small, delicious circles with his fingers.
Turning to the table, she wrung out the washcloth, placed it next to the bowl. “How’s your back?”
“Not hurting anymore.” When she raised a skeptical eyebrow, he added, “Truth. Whatever spell it was, it didn’t leave any lasting damage.”
“Hm.” Deciding to believe him, she straddled his lap and leaned in, her hands on his chest.
He grasped her hips, squeezed. “Is this your way of nursing my wounds?” His breath was hot on her lips. “I like it.”
Her unbound hair fell around their faces like a veil of midnight, locking them into sultry intimacy. He opened his mouth to her at the first brush of her lips on his, his tongue stroking hers, pleasure rippling through her at the wet, hot touch.
Her focus turned inside, and she found the glowing center of her life force inside her chest. Cradling the radiant energy, she pulled part of it up, pushed it out through her mouth and into his.
His grip on her hips tightened as he broke the kiss, jerked back. “Whoa. What’s this?”
“Funny I should have to explain duh to you.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why are you trying to give me breath?”
“To speed up your healing. Doesn’t a boost in your energy kick up your ability to self-repair?”
“Yes,” he said slowly. “But—”
“I don’t like seeing you with these.” She gingerly touched the bruise on his cheek, grazed her fingers around the small wound on his head. Catching his eye, she made sure he saw she meant it when she said, “I want to take care of you.”
She felt a flicker of some deep, entwining emotion in his aura as he apparently understood her reference to what he told her while he cleaned her injured feet. “I’ll just need a little,” he said a moment later, his voice having dropped to a timbre that brought up memories of her body tangled with his, skin-on-skin, hot and sweaty.
Breasts growing heavy and primed for touch, she leaned in again, took his mouth in a meeting of lips far beyond what was necessary for duh exchange. By now she’d realized that when he gave her breath, he’d done so with sneaky sensuality, and what should be considered an inappropriate overstepping of boundaries.
But somehow she couldn’t scrounge up an ounce of indignation about it.
Flicking her tongue against his, using her teeth to nip at his lower lip, she deepened the kiss—and pushed her duh up and into him. The radiant force of life, its energy palpable heat in her throat and mouth, flowed into him as he accepted her gift.
He drew on her duh, and she felt the pull all the way down to her toes, leaving a crystalline path of prickling excitement in its wake. Her nerve endings fired up with pleasure, white-hot and consuming. Acting on the surging impulse that short-circuited her higher functions, she rolled her hips, pressed her aching core against the growing hardness in his jeans.
His arms locked around her. His aura pulsed and whirled while his energy twined with hers. She moaned into his mouth, rubbing herself harder against him. One of his hands cupped her breast, and she pushed against him, eager for more touch. He pulled up her shirt and the shelf bra of her camisole until the heat of his palm was on her breast, soothing some of the ache. His index finger and thumb tweaked her nipple.
She cried out against his lips, the pressure that was half-pleasure growing, growing, growing.
Breaking the kiss and the flow of duh, he drew back until he met her gaze with eyes of red and black. “I’ve had enough.”
“I haven’t,” she shot back, her breathing ragged. “Not of you.”
An approving growl rose from his throat, and he flicked his thumb over her nipple, kneaded her breast. “Good. Because I’m not done with you, either.”
Desire and need for him coiled under her skin. But— “How are your wounds?”
“What wounds?” He leaned forward, closed his mouth over her nipple, and sucked.
Her thoughts scattered like dandelion fluff, a flash of pleasure arcing through her. She gripped his shoulders, her claws slicing out of her fingertips. When she regained a semblance of coherent thought, she pushed until he let go of her breast and kissed a trail up to her neck instead.
“I don’t,” she said on a panting breath, “want to—” Her sentence ended on a moan when he reached the spot behind her ear, his lips tickling skin that was surprisingly erogenous. “…when you’re still injured,” she finished after he’d lightly bitten her jaw.
“I’m healed enough for this.” A kiss driven by passion and demand. “Believe me, stopping right now would hurt me far more.”
She smiled at his sneaky verbal manipulation. But she’d take him at his word. Skimming her hands up under his T-shirt, she roamed the expanse of his chest with her palms, gave the flexing muscles of his abdomen that thorough exploration she’d been planning. She tugged at his belt buckle, her fingers making short work of it while she met his kisses with equal fervor. His belt undone, the button and zipper went next.
