Carpe Demon (Carus #3)

by J. C. McKenzie

  “So,” I said, breaking the silence. “Do you know where my birth family is?”

  A sly smile spread on the goddess’s lips. “Yes, but that is your journey.”

  Huh? Well, it was worth a shot. Feradea stood in a relaxed stance as she studied my place. May as well pick her brain for as much information as possible. Starting with Sid. I owed him, and that meant I needed dirt. “Any chance you’ll tell me what’s between you and Sid?”

  Feradea pursed her lips and glanced up at the ceiling, as if checking some deity clock. She must’ve decided she had some time to spare because she didn’t smite me where I stood for my impertinence.

  “Sidragasum has always wanted what he can’t have.”

  “Huh,” I said. Not exactly a witty response, but she didn’t look open to elaboration. “Will you answer another question?”

  She checked her Divine Time again. “You may ask. I will decide whether I answer.”

  “Why did you choose me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Shifters call me ‘The Chosen.’ I assumed that meant you chose me to be the Carus.”

  Feradea laughed, a deep resonating chuckled that somehow delighted and pissed me off at the same time. “You are not chosen.”

  “Come again?”

  Her mouth twitched as if she held back a laughing attack. “The Carus is nothing more than the resurgence of characteristics from your Shifter genes spontaneously reconfiguring themselves in a chance combination where previously dormant genes in your parents became expressed.” She paused and fiddled with her bow string. “I believe biologists call it atavism.”

  Good thing my hobby involved reading scientific magazines. “I’m a genetic throwback?”

  She snapped her fingers. “Precisely.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. Not sure how to react to that. Was Feradea messing with me? Avoiding the truth without lying or being fully truthful? A foot away, the goddess stood in my living room with arms folded and eyes twinkling.

  In the past, my alleged “special” status helped carry me through some dark moments. Now? Now I was a freak of nature. “So there’s no prophecy, or divine path I must follow? No grand task to complete on behalf of all Shifters?”

  Feradea started laughing again; a deep husky sound somewhere between a growl and a purr.

  I was going to kill O’Donnell. Okay, not really, but I might throttle him a little. I’m an idiot! It didn’t help that my patron goddess giggle-snorted at my question.

  Feradea wiped a tear from her eye, and straightened a little. “Depends on your point of view, young one. Some Shifter extremists believe if the Carus lives long enough to reproduce with another Shifter, his or her offspring will be like my…like you, with full capabilities. So your ‘grand task’ is technically procreation with a Shifter extremist.” She shrugged. “Although their theory has some genetic validity, the Carus has never lived long enough to test it. You all end up going crazy and being put down.”

  I ignored her final remark. “So these extremists think I’m a broodmare.”

  She waited before nodding. “That is an accurate analogy.”

  “Why did you just hesitate?”

  Feradea scoffed. “You try speaking every language on the planet, old and new, and see if you jump on every reference.”

  “Point taken.” I paused, and she blinked at me. Well, now or never. I might never have an opportunity to grill her for answers ever again. “What about the animal magnetism?”

  Feradea’s eyebrows punched together.

  “I’ve always attracted men, especially norms, but it seems like it’s been on hyper-drive lately.”

  Feradea chuckled. “That’s not animal magnetism. It has nothing to do with your animals, and everything to do with your beast. The mundane have always been attracted to the divine, and that’s what the Ualida represents. Where the norms are mildly drawn and manipulated by you, they’d swarm to me like flies to a slaughter.”

  “But what about the supes? It’s not just the norms that’ve been attracted to me lately.”

  Feradea shrugged. “Supes feel a slight pull, too, but not anymore than they’d notice a pretty girl.”

  My lips scrunched up as I digested her words. I knew why Tristan and Wick wanted me. I’d already established Clint had no real interest aside from pissing me off, but Feradea’s explanation didn’t fit Sid and Bola’s fascination with me.

  “You look pensive, young one. Did I not answer your questions adequately?” A trench burrowed between her perfectly-shaped brows, and her model-worthy shoulders stiffened.

  Ah fuck. Is she going to smite me?

  “No, Feradea,” I said quickly, glancing at the healing men. “You answered them perfectly, thank you. I guess I’m still trying to figure out why Sid and Bola want me.”

  “Ah…” She tapped her chin, and the tension flowed from her body. “You’re essentially a divine mortal tied to this plane of existence. With that anchor, comes great power and intriguing possibilities.”

  That didn’t sound good. “What kind of possibilities?”

  “The kind that tempts even the divine. Be careful, my child. I have a feeling Sid will make his intentions known soon enough.”

  Without a farewell or grand gesture, Feradea disappeared. One moment she stood there, looking down at me with condescension; and the next, the space where she cocked a hip was empty. Just like that. Just like Booth.

  Huh.

  I didn’t even have a chance to mentally freak out about shooting the shit with a deity. As soon as her presence left my apartment, the need to go to Tristan and Wick wiped out any thoughts of the goddess. An invisible weight settled on my shoulders. Tristan and Wick lay bloody and broken on my floor. Alive, but damaged.

  I sat down in front of my Weres and cradled my head in my hands. I caused this.

  My fault.

  Tristan groaned and rolled over on the floor, his arm draped over his face. Dried blood caked his skin while bones cracked and crunched to snap into place. I winced with every sound, every reminder I couldn’t help or make it easier. Wick grunted as his broken and bloody body continued to heal as well. The gaping wounds from Bola’s sharp talons, the ones exposing the tissue, fat and bones, had long since sealed, but the internal injuries, the ones not visible to the naked eye, would take longer. Their bodies made enough sound it could be the nature channel playing in the background, or the holiday channel with the eternally burning log in the fireplace. Snap! Pop!

  Tristan recuperated first, confirming my guess his age probably doubled Wick’s. He flopped over, and crawled to where I sat cross legged.

  Without words, he reached out and ran his fingers down my cheek over and over again. His sapphire gaze bore into my soul. His intensity mesmerized me.

  “Don’t you ever do that again,” he finally said. His voice cracked.

  “Save you?” I asked. Attitude might’ve ejected from my mouth, but guilt racked my insides, twisting it into a knot. Tristan and Wick had been hurt because of me. Tristan almost died because of me.

  “Risk yourself,” he said. “You can’t do that again. Promise me.”

  I shook my head. “Only if you make the same promise.”

  He grunted and pulled me into the warmth of his body. Cradled and stroked, a calming peacefulness flowed through my veins. Why did he comfort me? He had his neck broken and almost died, not me.

  I twisted my head around to take in his expression. His eyes closed, he rested his head on my shoulder, inhaling deeply to take in my scent. He looked at peace, too. Maybe this was his comfort. I held him close, and melted into his warmth.

  We stayed like that for what seemed like a blissful eternity, our hearts beating in unison, our feline energies entwining.

  The moment with Tristan shattered when Wick grunted and stood to his feet.

  I tensed. How would this play out? Another fight when they’d just recovered wouldn’t be good for either of them.

  Tristan released m
e, and pulled back to stand up. He reached down and offered me his hand. When I took it, he hoisted me to my feet.

  Then, Tristan took a step back.

  Wick lunged in to envelope me in a bear hug. My breath wheezed out. Yes, Wick’s hold threatened to crack a rib or two, but…

  Tristan had stepped back to allow Wick this moment.

  Almost as if… Almost as if they’d silently agreed to a momentary truce. Emotionally heal first, fight for the girl later.

  The control over their animals amazed me, but then, they’d had a long time to practice.

  “I thought I’d lost you,” Wick mumbled into the sensitive skin of my neck. He ran his nose against the pulsing beat of my carotid artery. “Don’t you dare do something like that again. Ever.”

  I rolled my eyes. A complete waste of sass since Wick couldn’t see it.

  Tristan cleared his throat and chucked Wick his clothes. “Better get dressed,” Tristan said. “Your phone’s been ringing non-stop.”

  Wick pulled away to catch his clothes.

  Only then did my ears register the sound of Wick’s cell—the theme song to a shark movie blasted out of the little device, the ringtone reserved for Lucien.

  Wick’s expression hardened, and his grasp on my arm tightened. “I don’t need to answer it.” He turned to me. “We’re being summoned.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Life is hard. After all, it kills you.”

  ~Katharine Hepburn

  I knelt in front of Lucien, and wished this night over. I’d already reached my daily quota for dealing with douche nozzles. With ragged breath and straining heart, I couldn’t take much more “excitement.” Running over to Lucien’s mansion to answer his summons didn’t rank high on my list of priorities. Hell, if I had a choice, I’d have a date with my pajamas, a hot drink, and my pillow-top mattress instead.

  Lucien sprawled like an Italian model on an haute couture shoot. All snooty faced and indifferent. He appeared completely nonplussed by my making it to his place in record time with Wick. Allan stood beside us with a cold mask and blank eyes. Did we pull him away from his private BDSM chamber? If I listened closely, would I hear the dying screams of his latest victim? The silence in the room droned on, filled only with the buzzing of the lights and the night-time sounds of summer insects.

  My skin rankled as I continued to kneel on the floor beside Wick, waiting for His Majesty to grant us the privilege of hearing his voice.

  After we had carried Ben and Christopher next door to be doted on by their denmates, Tristan left to check on his pride. It cost Tristan to leave me with Wick, his discomfort shown by his grimace and pinched eyebrows, but he kissed me gently on my cheek, and asked me to call when it was over. I’d simply nodded and tried to ignore the pain caused in my chest as the physical distance between us grew. I wanted to stay cocooned in his warmth and bask in his scent.

  “I’m not impressed,” Lucien said.

  What the heck is he talking about? I asked Wick.

  No idea, he replied.

  “Why, you might ask?” Lucien leaned forward. “I’ll tell you why. Because of your incompetence in dealing with Bola in a timely fashion, you’ve made me look inept in front of the entire Vampire community. There’s buzz within NAVA that Vancouver is ripe for the picking, that I’m weak.” The wood of his throne-like chair creaked as he clutched the armrest and squeezed. “You might dislike me as a ruler, but I’m Mary fucking Poppins compared to the alternative.”

  Whoa. Lucien swore. Not a good sign. My palms began to sweat. Lucien spouting cuss words didn’t happen often. Normally, I held the “Potty Mouth” crown in this company.

  Lucien slammed his hand down. “Now I’ll have to deal with even more attempts on my seat, thanks to you two.”

  We kept our heads bent in supplication.

  “Well?”

  Well what?

  “Do you have anything to say for yourselves? Any defense you would like to offer before I decide your punishment?”

  Punishment? I glanced up. When my gaze met the dead, cold stare of Lucien’s, I looked away. Intense. This supe not only pulled my strings, but Wick’s as well. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

  “What was that, Andrea? If you’re going to say something, you should speak up.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, louder. “I tried my best. I’d like to point out the threat was neutralized tonight.”

  “Eventually,” Lucian spat.

  “Bola is an Earl of Hell,” I continued. “Not exactly a lowly minion. He wasn’t an easy target to take down. Please take that into consideration.”

  Should I expel this jerk now and get it over with?

  Wick tensed beside me as if he’d heard my thoughts.

  No. Lucien hadn’t passed judgement on Wick yet. I might free myself from the Vampire Master, but Wick couldn’t. If I dispelled Lucien as the blood-sucking fera he truly was, his punishment for Wick would be extreme. Besides, with Allan and Wick under his control, I had no guarantee I’d make it out of this room alive, bond-free or otherwise. Unless I went beast. But then I’d have to hurt Wick.

  The throne creaked as Lucien scooted to the edge of the seat and peered down at us. “How about you, my pet? Any defense?”

  “No, master,” Wick said. “I failed you.”

  Lucien jerked his thumb in Wick’s direction. “At least this one knows how to be obedient. Sometimes.”

  Was he talking to me or Allan?

  “Well, I have decided how you will both make recompense.” Lucien snapped his fingers, and the door at the other end of the room swung open to emit Clint and someone else. The human servant moved to the side to allow the guest to walk forward, and I gasped. I recognized his tall frame and familiar face all too well.

  Obviously, Lucien hadn’t received the memo regarding my daily limit for asshats.

  “Sid!” My mouth involuntarily curled up into a scowl. How’d he recuperate so quickly from Feradea’s banishment?

  Wick froze beside me, gaze calculating.

  I wanted to rid myself of this guy for the foreseeable future. Hell, I planned to avoid him at all costs. I owed him a debt, and I didn’t want to pay up.

  Could Ben wave a magic wand and block the Demon for me? I’d have to ask him later.

  Sid made a little bow with his chin. He walked to stand beside Lucien’s chair with Allan. Clint joined them. My skin itched to run. My chances of escaping alive if I rebelled went from difficult to improbable.

  Lucien laced his hands together and rested his elbows on his chair. “I do so love to…what’s the saying? Kill two birds with one stone? As punishment to the two of you and as my payment to Sid, Andrea, you will give your blood to Sid willingly. Wick, you will ensure she does. You’re my insurance. I have a feeling she won’t fight you.”

  “But I owe Sid, not you,” I stammered.

  “Actually, we both owe Sid.” Lucien’s dark tone explained just how much he liked this concept. “You were taking too long to resolve the issue, and I sought alternative solutions. I found this Demon’s price very reasonable. Stand.”

  Lucien’s compulsion wove around me. I staggered to my feet. I folded my arms tightly around my stomach. This couldn’t be happening.

  “My payment is to provide access to you. Sid had concerns about tracking you down to collect your debt. For some reason, he thought you’d avoid him or find some Witch to block him. I provided a solution. Your payment to him, Andrea dearest, will be your voluntary blood donation.”

  “I don’t understand.” I turned to Sid. “You could’ve asked for blood as payment when we were in my forest. You did ask for it, but not as payment.”

  Sid’s mouth twisted up.

  I connected the dots like tic-tac-toe, and my head heated as if I’d physically blow my top like a choo-choo train.

  “You bastard! You tried to get my blood for free and an additional payment.”

  Sid shrugged.

  “You’re such an asshole.”

>   “Demon,” he reminded me, again.

  He was right. What the hell would he have asked for if I’d fallen for his gambit? A shudder ran through my body like a wave. It didn’t really matter, did it? Sid had requested my blood as payment now. I owed him. Breaking Lucien’s bond or going feral wouldn’t save me from this fate, only delay it. To refuse payment of a Demon debt meant forfeiting my soul to Sid for eternity…if he caught me.

  The odds weren’t in my favour.

  Lucien smirked when my attention slid back to him. I wrung my hands together. Sure, Lucien was a complete jerk, and he looked out for himself above all others, but he wouldn’t give up one of his minions. He’d certainly never allow someone else to mark them. Would he?

  “Lucien,” I started.

  “What do you people say nowadays? It’s a done deal,” he said.

  My insides flipped like a pancake. I glanced at the Master Vampire. The corner of his lips quirked up, and he had that smarmy expression he often got when he knew he’d get his way. He planned to go through with this.

  I gaped at him. My heart pumped against my ribcage so hard the echo of it rang in my ears. This is totally happening.

  “But that makes no sense,” I stammered. “When Sid requested my blood as payment for Kappa information, you told me not to because of our connection. Why now?”

  “Sid has already made an oath not to reach me through the blood bond or use your connection with me in any way,” Lucien explained. “I’m very grateful you didn’t give him your blood earlier.” He eyed the Demon with pressed lips. “He would’ve had us both by a blood link, and we’d still owe him favours. At least you did something right, Andrea.”

  “The sunrise is near.” Sid smiled and rubbed his hands together. “It’s time.”

  “Wick,” Lucien snapped his fingers. “Hold Andy, and don’t let her escape.”

  Wick grunted and lurched to the side, his hand enclosed around my arm, and I tried to snatch it back.

  When Wick pushed me forward, I locked my knees and slammed my weight back. To hell with this.

  “Andy, either you let Wick hold you down, or I will eviscerate him. Really, I shouldn’t have to repeat this threat. You should’ve learned by now I will not think twice about using my pet dog against you. Would you be the cause of his pain?”