Demons Undone: The Sons of Gulielmus Series

by Holley Trent

  She blinked. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Then, she shook her head.

  “Good. The chicken, then, I think. The steak will keep for another day. Go eat the orange.”

  His authoritative tone must have startled her because her bloodshot eyes went very round for a second. Recovering, she backed away and said, “Okay,” in a tiny voice.

  Tiny. The Sweetie he knew lived life in a big way. She wasn’t a meek woman who kept her voice low and head down. No, Sweetie was the kind of woman who laughed at inappropriate times and took the lead even when there was already a leader. Somewhere in that broken shell, that woman lived. He was determined to usher her back and his joy along with her.

  Her turned her by the shoulders and have her a little push toward the bed. “Keep warm. You don’t have an ounce of fat anywhere on you. Of course you’re cold.”

  She walked slowly to the bed. There was none of her old sway and swagger in her gait. She moved as if walking upright pained her. Maybe it did, but she needed to get back in the habit of it.

  “Best diet ever,” she said. “I’d been trying to lose five pounds.”

  “And now you’ll have to gain it all back.” And then some, if he had a say in the matter. Most wolves tended to be rather lean in their human forms, but Sweetie wore curves like a silver screen movie star.

  “The wolf part of my brain likes me to be a bit lighter,” she said. She sank onto the bed’s edge and worked her thumb beneath the orange peel.

  “As light as you are now?”

  She shook her head.

  “Problem solved. Just spend less time in your wolf form.”

  “Easier said than done, Mark.”

  Mark. Had she ever called him anything besides “Angel”? If she had, he couldn’t remember it, but she’d have to get used to it.

  He wasn’t an angel anymore.

  There was no word for what he was, besides … fallen.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Sweetie clamped her hands around the overloaded submarine sandwich and watched Mark move about the small kitchen with a familiarity she didn’t expect. He hummed some tune she didn’t recognize as he arranged a whole chicken in a baking tray. Then he rubbed some blend of spices onto the skin and inside the cavity.

  She’d never seen him cook anything. He didn’t have to eat, so cooking would have been wasted energy. He liked eating, though. He’d said before that it was one of his few indulgences, and he liked all kinds of food. That generally made his hosts happy because he would eat whatever he was offered and be gracious about it. Maybe it’d become sort of a hobby for him.

  Hell. Come to think of it, she didn’t really know much about him at all. Sure, he was her friend, but what did she really know? She knew he worked in an advertising agency and that he kept an apartment in Wilmington. She knew he’d be assigned as her friend Ariel’s guardian. She knew he didn’t really need those thick-framed glasses, but they’d become part of his uniform of sorts. He wasn’t what she’d call well-dressed or fashionable, but his clothes were always neat and clean. Already, he was doing far better than most of the unattached wolves did. Those men acted like wearing a clean undershirt was a blow to their self-esteem.

  She sighed, and took a small bite of the sandwich. Eating the orange hadn’t been much of an ordeal, but chewing the bread required true labor. Already, her jaw hinges ached. It was as if she hadn’t been eating. Had she been? Before the mania set in, she saw everything through her wolf’s eyes. The last six months were a blur and most of the memories were shut off to her. Surely the wolf would have hunted, just on instinct.

  Instincts were what got her ass in trouble in the first place. She’d felt the instinct to take a mate, starting around the age of eighteen, and she’d ignored it. She’d known the deal. Wolves needed to form a mate bond not too long after finishing puberty or else the wolf hormones took over. Most wolves paired off pretty young, but Sweetie had approached quarter-life with no interest whatsoever in the men in her pack. Everyone called her picky. A snob. Her! Of all people, a snob?

  Well, shit, maybe she was one.

  She didn’t want to latch herself onto someone she didn’t feel anything for. She knew every wolf in the area and none of them hit the right notes. The same had been true for her brother—he hadn’t found a mate until he was nearly thirty—but he didn’t get the kind of flak she did. Of course, he was a famous baseball star so he could do whatever the hell he wanted and nobody gave him crap. Except Mama, but Mama gave everyone crap.

  Calvin had been ready to go feral, too, but then the right lady fell onto his lap. She wasn’t even a wolf. Apparently, that didn’t matter as much as they’d always thought. They’d been closed off to outsiders until half-demon Julia came along. They’d lost their collective memory that there were others whose energies played nice with wolf auras.

  It was because of Julia, in a roundabout way, that Sweetie knew Mark. Julia was John’s sister. John was married to Ariel, the woman Mark had been charged with protecting. Sweetie and Mark started as mutual friends, and then became friend-friends—I-tease-ya-’cause-I-love-ya friends. Fall-asleep-atop-him-on-the-sofa-while-watching-movies friends.

  She’d cursed the fates the moment she met him, because that was all they could be.

  He was too good for her, angel that he was. Of course, no man compared to him, but she couldn’t have him.

  No one could have him.

  “You look like you’re thinking really hard,” Mark said, and sent her thoughts scattering. She hadn’t even noticed he’d knelt in front of her holding out a bottle of water.

  She took it, nestling it next to her hip as she tried to formulate sentences that made good sense.

  “What are you thinking about?” He draped his forearm over her knees.

  “I, uh … ” His skin on hers and the intoxicating nearness of him sent a tingle of awareness from her heart down to where her thighs clenched. She dragged her tongue across her dry lips and tried to meet his gaze.

  There was too much wisdom in those dark eyes and looking into them always seemed to freeze up her brain. It was as if no mortal woman was equipped to be in his orbit, but she’d never been able to help herself. His energy was right and kept her wolf at bay. He hadn’t minded all the touchy-feely shit she’d needed from him in the past couple of years, but eventually, she did.

  She wanted to do more to him than hug his back or have him hold her hand, and that was wrong. Of course she’d run off. She didn’t have a choice.

  He squeezed her knee. “You in there?”

  She set the sandwich down on its plate and lifted his arm from her legs. God, he felt so good. She never wanted to let go of him. She wanted to pull him on top of her and wrap her legs around his thighs and hold him there until he kissed her.

  So she dropped his arm and scooted closer to the foot of the bed. “I was just wondering how it is you don’t have other plans on Christmas day. Isn’t that a big day for angels?”

  She pulled her knees up to her chest, closed her borrowed coat around her legs, and rocked. She wanted to pull her head into the down-filled jacket like a turtle, and just inhale his scent. That was all she could have of him.

  Some emotion flitted across his face, but it was gone so quickly she couldn’t be sure she’d even seen it. She certainly couldn’t peg it.

  “This is the only place I need to be right now,” he said.

  “Can’t be very much fun for you. I bet the gang in Mortonville is doing it up. Calvin and Julia are probably having a big shindig with the wolves, too.”

  He nodded. “They are.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather be there?” She rocked, and the gentle sway soothed her frayed mind, but sent frissons of pain into her hips and spine. Whether her wolf liked it or not, having fat on one’s ass obviously had some advantages.

  “No. I’m here because I want to be.”

  “Angel complex.” She rolled her eyes. Same old thing, and typical Angel. She couldn’t help calling him that aloud
. Mark just seemed too intimate. “You want to save the world one wolf at a time, right? You know you can’t fix me, right?”

  “I’m not interested in the world right now. I’m only concerned with you.”

  “You know that when you leave I’m going right back to where I was, don’t you? I can’t control it anymore. When you pull your energy away, within a couple of hours I’m gonna shift, and maybe I’ll have a day or so where it’s still me in there. After that, it’ll all be instinct and the part of me that’s Sweetie is gonna hide. And I … ” She gripped the bottom of the coat and fiddled with the buttons. “I … don’t know what my wolf does. I’m not in control of her anymore.”

  Before the mania, she’d always been in control of her wolf. Now, she felt like a big old hunk of her brain was missing. She had werewolf Swiss cheese in her head. Animals did what they had to, to survive, and she was under no pretenses that she wasn’t a predator in both her forms. Did that disgust him?

  Mark’s expression gave no clues. “I’m not leaving.”

  Her joy was short-lived. Common sense filled in where fleeting hope had been. “You can’t stay here and babysit me all the time. I won’t let you. And you’ve got to go back to work at the ad agency after New Year’s, I bet.” That was still seven days away. The idea of spending seven days with him …

  She drew in a breath and squeezed her eyes closed. Don’t look at him.

  “When I go back to Wilmington, I’m taking you with me. I’m not releasing your wolf back into the woods.”

  She pulled her head farther into the coat and pressed her nose against her knees. “You can’t help me,” she muttered against them. “There’s nothing to do for it. You want to get some food into me for the holiday, that’s fine, but I’m not your responsibility. Maybe you’re just bored because Ariel doesn’t need you anymore, but I’m sure you can get a new assignment. Maybe—”

  He pulled the coat plackets apart and put his lips against her ear. “It’s not up to you. Listen and understand me. I’m here because I want to be. This isn’t a Good Samaritan act. I want to take care of you, and I’m going to, so stop.”

  The directness of his tone made her gasp, but the rebel in her was waking up. “I’m not a pet, Angel. Find another project.”

  He grabbed the sides of her face and forced her to look at him. Now it wasn’t wisdom she saw in his eyes as he loomed over her, but anger.

  “I don’t want a fucking pet, Sweetie.”

  Time stood still. Or at least, it seemed to. She felt like her heart stopped beating, lungs stopped inflating, and her brain just fell right on out.

  “What?” was all she could think to say.

  “Shit, just eat the sandwich, okay? Stop looking for ulterior motives. There are none.”

  He traced along the edge of her jaw with his thumbs, and his features softened. The anger leached away and something like relief took its place. He was incapable of dishonesty, but he’d always delivered his messages—no matter how brutal—sweetly. The fact that he’d broken from that habit made him seem more human … and Sweetie wasn’t sure she liked it.

  Mark was good. He was her guidepost for righteous living, and she’d always aspired to be more like him. Maybe he’d finally been corrupted.

  Maybe it was all her fault. She’d tainted him.

  Sweetie picked up the sandwich and took a bite. Vaguely, she registered her jaw working as she chewed, but she tasted nothing. All of her brain’s energy seemed concentrated on his lips. She watched them redden as he freed them from a tight press and let her gaze linger on the curves and swirls of his skin. She watched her index finger land on the indentation at the top of his upper lip and pulled her hand back when she realized her body and mind were no longer working cooperatively.

  Laughing, he backed away from the bed and returned to the kitchen. “When you finish that sandwich, you can have your bath,” he said. He pulled a box of macaroni from the shelf over the counter and ripped off the cardboard top. “I picked up some clothes for you. Had to guess the sizes, so please don’t be offended if I got them wrong. You … well, you lost a lot of weight.”

  “Do I even want to see myself in a mirror?” She took a bigger bite of the sandwich, actually tasting it this time. “Hmm. Nice bacon.”

  “It’s good, right? I picked it up from one of those sketchy roving meat mongers. The guy was selling sides of beef, venison, and all kinds of stuff out of the back of his pickup truck.”

  She smiled. “Way to dodge my question.”

  “I’m not ignoring your question,” he smirked. “I just don’t believe there’s a good answer to it.” He poured the pasta into a pot of boiling water and moved to the fridge.

  She raised an eyebrow. “You usually have an answer for everything.”

  He fetched a clear bag of greens and closed the door. “Yeah, well, I’m learning that having an answer doesn’t mean it should be shared.”

  “Fuck.” She slumped. “I look that bad, huh?”

  He pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat at the table with the bag of greens and a big bowl. He met her gaze with one eyebrow cocked over his glasses. “I’m biased. I know how you’re supposed to look and I prefer you that way. A stranger might find your current … well, leanness, incredibly arousing.”

  “Oh my God.” Grunting, she struggled to her feet and fixed the coat around her with the hand not holding her sandwich. There had to be a mirror in that corner with the bathtub. She padded over, and sure enough, found one hanging over the sink.

  She gasped at the unrecognizable woman in the glass. Her bruised skin was pulled tight across her cheekbones creating shadows of gauntness. Her lips were cracked and dry, and dark circles hung beneath her eyes. She closed her eyes before her gaze could settle on the dark mass of hair that she could already tell from just her peripheral vision was standing on end.

  Although she hadn’t heard him move across the old floorboards, he was there behind her. She felt his proximity the same way she always did. His energy had always licked at hers like a mothering wild animal, looking for a way to smooth all her rough spots away. His energy was protective and healing, but this time there was something else there she couldn’t identify. Whatever it was pulled at her gut and made her heart gallop.

  She liked it, whatever it was.

  Swallowing, she opened her eyes and turned to him. “I guess I’ve only been left alone this long because my brother’s the alpha now. Calvin would have told them to back off for a while.”

  Mark wasn’t particularly prone to having visceral reactions. That was a human thing and he’d told her that even smiling took a concerted effort for beings like him. Just because he was happy on the inside didn’t mean the body he was wearing showed it. But Sweetie saw the twitch of his jaw hinges and slight narrowing of his eyes.

  “Uh. Usually when wolves get to this stage … someone gets elected to put them out of their misery. It’s almost always a family member. I’m surprised Mama didn’t do it herself since I’m so fuckin’ defective.”

  “The only thing defective about you is that you hate yourself so much that you’d give up.”

  He stormed away, the anger hanging in his wake leaving her a bit colder, and at a loss for words.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “What in the hell is wrong with you?” she asked his back as he walked away.

  He settled into the kitchen chair once more and got to work pulling stems off collard greens. He hoped they weren’t as bitter as the last batch he’d procured, but as he couldn’t determine the vegetable’s provenance he had no way of knowing how they were grown. That was the problem with big box grocery stores. They shipped in food from halfway around the world when small local farms had an excess of the stuff.

  Pitiful.

  He kept plucking stems, flinging the discards into the bowl with far more exertion than was necessary. For every one he tossed in, one flew out. He didn’t know how to process this agitation. The mix of fear and anxiety was unfamiliar to ange
ls, but Sweetie had set off some chain reaction in him. Body and mind were telling him to just do what needed to be done—be a man and tell her the deal. Tell her that he would be her mate, and that they were going to start right now.

  It’d been a lot fucking easier to be a man back when he’d been an angel. He didn’t know how to navigate his warring compulsions to both dominate her and let her walk all over him.

  Something soft boinged off the side of his head. He turned and scanned the floor around him, easily finding a balled-up napkin with mustard stains.

  He looked up at Sweetie who pointed her sandwich at him. “Don’t you dare ignore me.”

  “Glad to see you’re getting your energy back. You’ll be back to talking shit in no time at all. Can’t wait.”

  “I don’t like your mouth.”

  “Well, I’m sure there are a lot more things you’re not going to like about me.”

  He resumed his work with the collards.

  She sighed. “I don’t mean to sound judgey. I’m just sayin’. I’m a werewolf. Cussin’ doesn’t come close to being the worst of my bad habits. I know I’m not proper, but you’ve always been and don’t go changing that now.” Her eyes narrowed, but even in his anger, taking her seriously was difficult when she had mustard from the sandwich over her lip.

  God. No wonder angels were barred from fraternizing with humankind. Who could think through all the emotions they ignited? He couldn’t even label all his yet.

  He flicked his thumb over the same approximate area on his face. She rolled her eyes, but licked the spot clean all the same.

  “Have you considered that perhaps this is the part of my personality you’re simply not accustomed to?” Just like him.

  She moved toward the table, seeming to have forgotten her nearly undressed state. The coat splayed open revealing a vee of deeply tanned skin from her neck on downward. This time, he couldn’t look away. His gaze trailed down her sleekly tapered torso to the patch of hair at the apex of her thighs.

  She sat and pulled her chair up close to the table, and he closed his eyes on a groan.