“They give you grief about that?” I asked.
He loomed over me, grinning. “Nah, I just reminded them that this human form hides a thousand pound, ravenous beast that scares werewolves. They were more than happy to get me food, before I started looking at them.” He paused, crossing his arms across his chest, settling into the chair to wait. “Like I’d eat people. Really, I ought to be insulted. I’ll forgive the slight if they come back with the shrimp fu young and general chicken.”
“You know,” I said, “we’re going to be hungry an hour later.”
He shrugged. “I’m always hungry an hour later.”
He picked up a magazine, skimmed it, and dropped it within minutes.
“Listen,” I said. “Did you get a good look at that thing the assassin called up? A demon maybe?”
He shook his head no. “Too much smoke and weird green light. Bigger than me is all I know, which is remarkable all by itself. Still, I’ve got its scent locked in my head, for whatever good that will do. After I’ve eaten…”
The door opened and Mason walked in.
“…I’ll go back to the waterfront and see if I can pick up its trail.”
“That won’t be useful,” Mason said. “Whatever the burning creature was, it slammed through another building, crossed to the River Park, and took a dive into the Sacramento River. A water fey shed his human glamour and went into the water after the beast.” He paused.
“And?” I asked.
“Lot of blood in the water. The fey got eaten. You want to tell me what we’re dealing with and why it wants you dead?” Mason asked.
I grinned. “I stand high among the demon clans. There’s a very long list of people who want me dead so they can piss on my grave. While we’re talking about enemies, you got any idea who’s tracking that car of yours? We found a radio transmitter underneath.”
He looked at me with genuine shock on his face. “That can’t be possible. We have our vehicles checked out every day. A sensible precaution.”
“Sure,” Josh said. “Which means it’s someone in your own outfit keeping tabs on you.”
“Division in the ranks.” I shook my head sadly. “You got any enemies you want to tell us about?”
“Not now.” His eyes scanned the room quickly. “Not here.”
I nodded. “Then Josh will fill you in on the details of our night’s adventures. I’m going to see how Vivian is doing.”
SEVENTEEN
“I’m faithful to every woman I’m
bedding, until I get up and go.”
—Caine Deathwalker
The room Vivian occupied was easy enough to find, once I got off on the right floor. Her scent drew me like a stalking werewolf: sweat and blood, smoke, and a hint of cucumber-and-melon perfume. No one was in the hall. She was a guest, not a prisoner. I opened an office door and ambled in. Vivian lay on a leather couch. Another dhampyr woman sat in a recliner near her.
I scanned the rest of the room. One wall was all windows, the vertical blinds cranked open so the city lights could be seen. Indirect lighting circled the edges of the ceiling, highlighting bookcases, and objects of art. Someone overly fond of Wild West paintings also owned a three-foot bronze of an Indian—on a pony—in a posture of deep dejection as if white invaders had just burned down his village.
Motion drew my stare from the general inspection. An unknown woman—in black blazer, knee-length skirt, and three-inch heels—rose smoothly, turning a frown of disapproval my way. “She’s resting. You don’t need to be here.”
I pulled my gun, let it hang at my side, and stared at her right knee, imagining a bullet hole in it.
She spoke over her shoulder to Vivian. “I’ll be outside the door. If you need anything, just scream.” She passed, deliberately not looking at me.
“Very funny,” I told her. I put my PPK away and went to the chair the dhampyr had vacated, settling on the edge.
Vivian acknowledged me by tilting her head back a little more, looking in my general direction. Her face still had that odd green tinge at the edges. “I thought you’d be out hunting beauty and her beast.”
“I never go on safari without the hired help.”
Heat crept into her voice, giving it a weak lash, “That’s all I am to you? Hired help?”
“If that were true, I wouldn’t be here.” You’re also a potential sex slave.
Her eyes half shut. Her tone cooled, “Oh.”
I looked along her body, a vague shape under a midnight blue throw with a silver moon and wolf pattern on it. “How are the ribs doing?”
“They’ve mended—mostly.” Her hand came out from under the throw. She touched her smooth face, where the burns had been. “I don’t know why I feel so drained—like something’s eating my life.”
The door to the hall opened. I glanced over and saw an old Indian with blunt features and no facial hair. His skin was weathered and wrinkled. He wore a yellow-and-brown checkered shirt with pearl snaps, faded jeans, boots, and a bolo tie. His long gray hair was tied in back. The silver and turquoise ring on his right hand had a stylized thunderbird pattern. He was followed in by a hot redhead with ice-pale skin. Her dress was a tight sheath of royal blue and her heels were silver. Piercing and bright, her eyes were rusty-gold with deep blue horizontal-slit pupils. Her body and face had been cast in perfect symmetry. Red lips were an invitation to sin. Her breasts had a delightful bounce as she sauntered closer. A necklace of gold wire and raw amber caught my eye, stirring the larceny in my soul.
I tried to look away, but my eyes leapt back to her.
My protective shield flickered into half-life, dimming the pull of her glamour. She smiled, and dropped the effort to roll my mind. My shield returned to dormancy.
I held her curious stare. “You’re the fey healer.”
“Yes. And you’re the Red Moon Demon.”
“I’m Charlie Darkcloud,” the Indian said.
I nodded. “Glad we got that settled.”
Leaning on a gnarled, hand-carved cane, Charlie limped over, circling the coffee table. He sat on its edge, facing Vivian. Leaning in, he touched the side of her face and stared in her eyes. He said, “You were right to call me in.”
The redhead stopped beside me. Swiveling her delightful bottom, she sat on the arm of my chair. Her forearm went to my shoulder, bracing her in place.
She and Charlie meshed stares.
Her voice was honey smooth, nearly a purr, “The wounds resisted healing. I felt some force fighting me. The flavor wasn’t fey or Wiccan. I thought of you.”
Charlie raised his cane. Just below the knobby top, a couple of eagle feathers fluttered as he waved the stick over Vivian. He chanted a soft, rhythmic invocation that brought a stir of wind to the closed room. I heard the faded screams of eagles in the distance, a sound from another world. Wisps of green light curled off of Vivian’s face, also seeping through the throw that covered her. The specter-green mist gathered in a spot several feet in the air. A bestial face formed, fangs bared, jaws wide, silently thundering.
The Indian waved his feathers through the fuzzy green face. Color leached to white as the monster dissolved. The chanting ended. Charlie lowered his stick, grounding it to the carpet. He smiled at Vivian. “You’ll be fine now.”
The green tint was gone from her skin. Her eyes showed more life as she sat up on the couch. The drooping blanket revealed she was still naked, her clothing having been burned off during the earlier fight. She hastily grabbed the throw and pulled it back into place, her face flushing with heat.
The fey absently drew circles on my chest with a bright red nail, making sure the valley of her breasts was ever in view. “So, what was that image anyway?”
“Part of a spirit beast,” the old man said, “a poisonous residue.”
“Even in my experience,” I said, “that’s not normal.”
The Indian stood up, leaning on his cane. “No, the spirit’s been tainted, turned dark and angry. Gonna be hell to deal wit
h.” Charlie grinned at me. “I’m glad I’m not you.” He looked at the fey pinning me back in my chair. “You ready to head out?”
“Back to the casino?” The fey brightened with a child’s enthusiasm. “You bet.”
“No betting,” he said. “My grandson runs security there. He won’t let us have any fun.”
I understood. Casinos take a dim view of magic-users beating house odds. They employ their own magic-users to see that it doesn’t happen. Not that I’d ever gotten caught.
Charlie and the fey left together. As she went through the door, she switched off the lights, calling back, “You know, the best way to get rid of temptation is just to give in?” She closed the door. A bit of fey magic caused it to lock itself behind her, giving us privacy.
“She might have a point there,” I said.
Vivian didn’t answer. I left the chair for the coffee table, sitting where Charlie had. The outside lights through the window were enough to let me see, that and the odd enhancement that had recently improved my sight. I could tell that Vivian hadn’t fallen asleep. Though still and silent, her eyes studied my face.
Yeah, that’s right; dhampyr see in darkness as well as any vamp or werewolf.
Her voice almost startled me when she did speak. “I want to thank you … for earlier.”
“Earlier?”
“The blood. It really helped. And wow, what a fucking rush!”
The last part had been said really softly. I don’t think she knew I’d heard it clearly. The sensation of sharp fangs piercing my throat ghosted through my brain, a memory of the same euphoria she’d been talking about. “Don’t mention it.”
“I’m just sorry I needed you to rein me in. Losing control that badly is just pathetic.”
She lay there, falling silent again, a bruised look around her eyes, an illusion of frailty. On most days—if I let her—she was strong enough to snap me in half. This wallowing in weakness really pissed me off.
No, she is frail, if only for this moment. Even steel can break. We all have our limits. Question is; how am I going to break her out of this mood?
I hardened my voice so it matched my heart. “You need to stop whining like a bitch, or I’m not going to let you fuck me.”
She shot up on the couch, clutching the throw in modesty. Like heating elements in an oven, her irises blazed an unnatural pink. Her wide eyes shifted from numbing shock to inchoate outrage, with a quick shimmer in there of what might have been fast-smothered lust. Awkward, she threw a punch.
I caught her fist, having to use both hands to do so. “Vivian, listen to me.”
She relaxed, slightly, not trying to pull free. Luckily, she was still pretty wasted by what she’d been through. “We’re all inadequate at some time. We fall down. We get back up. We keep trying. That’s what a soldier does, what a soldier is. And that’s what I’ve always liked about you.” I leaned forward, holding her fist, and licked the top of her hand with just the tip of my tongue.
“I don’t do one-night stands,” she said. “I’m no one’s plaything or conquest.”
I smiled. That’s the spirit. “I’m not telling you to be any of those things.”
“What are you asking?”
I shrugged, letting her hand go. “Nothing, and making no promises.”
The glow of her eyes softened to a cherry-blossom pink. “What’s left then?”
“Rutting in all our animal glory.”
“You’re a bastard, you know that?” There was no bite to her tone.
“What else? I’m demon raised.”
Her hand rested on my knee, bracing her as she leaned closer. Her face hovered inches away. “You’re part human, no matter how deep that part is buried. You brandish your darkness. I hide my inner monster. I don’t think this will work out.”
I reached out and took her face in my right hand. I brushed soft hair back from her delicate, slightly-pointed ears, tangling her hair in my fingers, letting her feel a gentle, suggestive tug. My face brushed hers, my lips traced a line to the corner of her jaw, then to her throat. I scraped her skin with my teeth, hearing her rapid-fire heartbeat, as a shudder went through her.
I pulled back, intoxicated by the scent of her need, my pants tight around my bulge. “Hey,” I said, “at least you know up front not to trust me.” I pushed her back, my knees going to the carpet as I leaned over. I stripped the throw off her body and cast it aside. “You are too beautiful to wear anything but the night.”
Sappy, I know, but girls like that kinda crap.
The shadows on her body were pools of mystery. The highlights from the windows teased, suggesting hard muscles mated with delicious curves. My hand trembled with eagerness, using the lightest touch to skim along her hip, rounding her knee, returning along a new line. I lightly kissed her stomach as my hand slipped behind the small of her back.
She moaned. A dove cry. A sound of begging hunger. “I don’t—don’t think this is a good idea.”
I glided my left hand up her spine and back down again. “I know it isn’t.”
Vivian lay mostly on her side, tilted just a little toward me by the back of the couch. I raised her farthest leg and licked inside her left knee, along her inner thigh, lingering on a pressure point where leg and pelvis joined. Her raised foot kicked as I played upon her sensitivities. I knew she expected me to zero in on her vagina, but I disliked being predictable. I changed to her other leg, working the opposite thigh, pausing for a sudden bite on the way to her core. I lingered just short of the prize.
She snarled, “What the hell are you waiting for?”
I smiled, feeling the warmth of her core radiating on my face. “Nothing at all.”
I kissed her and stabbed my tongue into her depths, flicking across her sacred vestibule, curling around her clit.
Vivian arched, gasping. “Oh, fuck!”
She dug her fingers into my hair, gripping tight, shoved beyond rational response. I kept her trembling at the edge of her peak, not letting her fall into dissolution.
I drew myself upward, lips brushing through her trimmed pubic hair, and worked her abdomen, switching between lips and teeth. My hands explored her toned body, one palm pressing a moment over her hammering heart. I tasted the pebble-hard tip of her left breast and lolled my tongue around the prominence, bathing it, then eased off, blowing softly across the wetness I’d left behind.
She turned, bringing my mouth back to her breast.
I bit her nipple, tugged with my teeth, released her, and licked where I’d inflicted injury.
Her arm tightened around me. “Inside, now!”
I ignored her demand, moving my mouth to her other tit, using a hand to caress the breast my lips had just abandoned.
Her moan became a gasp. She bared fangs at the ceiling.
I kissed her lips with bruising force, my self-control crumbling as my tented pants ground against her. Our tongues were mingled flames in each other’s mouths.
I starred into her pink-star eyes. Their radiance masked her features with a haze of light, stealing a bit of her humanity. “Finish the job,” she said, “or I’ll find someone who will!”
A harsh bark of a laugh escaped me.
She blinked, surprised by whatever she saw in my eyes, clawing at my clothes, ripping them to tatters in seconds. My belt fell away. I kicked off my boots, a cold gust of air-conditioning coming out of nowhere like a phantom caress. I hung over her, preparing to thrust home.
“No.” She shoved me across the coffee table to the floor beyond. “I told you before, I will not be one of your whores. I do the taking.”
A goddess of the hunt, she towered on the couch, unconcerned about the weak light that slanted across her lean body. Her hair lifted like raven wings as she sprang over the coffee table, falling on me like a curse, biting my neck lightly, playfully, drawing a little blood. She seized my manhood, and guiding it into paradise. Releasing my throat, her lips sought mine. She crushed her breasts against me, rasping her whole body aga
inst me in fierce demand.
As she bounced magnificently, my voice matched her roughness. “Fine, but next time, I have a schoolgirl uniform you’ll be wearing.”
“Bring it, and you’ll be wearing it.”
EIGHTEEN
“Never Superglue diamonds to the bottom
of a pool, too many women will drown”
—Caine Deathwalker
The morning sun was a bright blaze, not at all intimidated by the body parts strewn about. The blood splatter was easy to see, not so the tracks left behind by the assassin’s beast. The sand was not good at keeping imprints. We were a few miles east of downtown Sacramento, along the American River. The water color was off from what I’d imagined, too much gray. And the level was low, revealing a modest strip of beach. The thick sand, mixed with small rocks, was nothing like the tidy beaches in L.A.
Josh had a broken branch. He poked a chunk of dead pookas on the beach. The water pony had definitely seen better days. The human-looking water fey from the restaurant last night stood in a knot. Their natural skin tone was showing now, an icy blue. They had closed slits in their neck, gills not currently in use. They were taking pains not to get blood on their bare feet. Their silken clothing—what little they wore—shimmered aqua blue, purple, and sea foam green. Pale-faced, arms crossed as they murmured to each other, they radiated a fierce anger. I left it up to them to cover the scene with their magical glamour so clueless humans entering the area might stay that way.
Nothing here, move along.
All we needed was someone calling 911, or snapping a phone picture of us for their Facebook page.
Kat was by a sapling, studying one of the smaller pooka. I walked over for a better look. Its long, graceful neck was marred by skin flaps that didn’t quite hide its gills. The foal couldn’t have been more than a few years old. The legs were ripped away. Claws had left deep gashes. Its chest gaped, broken ribs poking out like misaligned fangs. The creature’s heart was gone, probably eaten while fresh. I suspected the same was true for other internal organs. With its mouth open, I saw its second row of teeth were still breaking the gums. The foal had not yet made its first kill.
Green Flame Assassin (Demon Lord series, book 2) Page 13
