Demon Kissed

by Patti O’Shea

  Cautiously, she poked at the bottom one and watched the direction it took. Bree measured the height of the wooden boxes and then mentally marked the target zone on the floor of the warehouse. If she waited until the demons were within that area, she could take out both of them.

  It was a gamble. There were so many ways this could go wrong that she couldn’t count them all. She tucked her knife back into the sheath and prepared herself.

  Frowning, she waited for the demons to close ground. Let them get a little nearer. Don’t hurry. Don’t lose this chance.

  Then they hit the mark.

  Bree surged upright. With her full strength, she pushed the crates, using her hands for the top one and her foot on the bottom.

  For an eternal moment, she didn’t think they were going to fall. She pushed harder, adding a roar as if her voice could supply power. It seemed to happen in slow motion, but the boxes toppled over, taking down both males, and exploding into pieces.

  Pulling her dagger, she clambered over the debris until she found one of the demons. He was already stirring. She drove her blade into his heart and looked for the next.

  Demon number two sat up, pushing the boards off his body and Bree launched herself at him. As she brought down the arm holding the knife, he tried to block her, but he was clumsy, uncoordinated. Her steel found his heart and he slumped to the floor.

  She staggered to her feet, her knees shaking so badly that she wasn’t sure she could stand. Then she heard the groan from the front of the warehouse and adrenaline flowed. Andras!

  Bree rounded the piles of crates in time to see him connect with a punch that dropped the blond demon.

  Andras turned his head, his gaze meeting hers, and she gasped. His face was bruised and bloodied. She hurried forward, wanting to do something to fix him, but he grabbed her outstretched hand and pulled. “Come on, we have to get out of here.”

  She hesitated for a second—the blond demon wasn’t dead—but Andras didn’t give her the chance to voice a protest. He moved and he moved fast. Half running to keep up with him, she sheathed her dagger as they reached the door.

  He jerked it open and they were on the street. Bree spotted his motorcycle to the left. Pulling free of his grasp, she took the lead, heading toward the bike.

  The blond demon appeared on the sidewalk behind them and shot a rope of flame so intense that it lit up the street as if it were daylight. Andras put himself in front of her, saving her from the blast. She held her breath, scared that his shield would be shattered, but he withstood it.

  “Get to the bike,” he ordered.

  Bree didn’t argue. She reached the motorcycle and climbed on as the demon’s fire eased. Making room for Andras, Bree looked over her shoulder, needing to ensure he was all right.

  The blond demon was closing ground fast and she swallowed the urge to warn Andras. He knew. His eyes were glued on the enemy. And as she watched, he brought his arm back. For a split second, she thought he was going to throw a dagger before she realized there was nothing in his hand.

  It turned out he didn’t need a blade.

  Andras released his own stream of fire and his was every bit as bright as the blond male’s. He got on the bike in front of her while the demon was regaining his feet.

  As they sped off, what she’d seen finally penetrated her daze. Andras had been the one who’d saved her when she’d been pinned on the floor of the warehouse, not the blond. It took a second longer for the bigger truth to hit.

  Andras wasn’t a slayer, he was a demon. A damn powerful demon.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Andras locked the door of the hotel room behind them and turned to Bree. She sat on a chair near the window, as far away from him as she could get. Her glare spoke volumes.

  Ignoring that, he checked out the rest of the place. There was a small table next to Bree, another table with two chairs that could be used either for dining or working, a dresser faced the two queen-size beds, and between them was a wide nightstand. There was an artificial flower on top of it, held in position with white stones.

  He crossed to the clear vase and fished out four of the pebbles. Closing his hand around them, Andras shut his eyes and whispered an incantation. Once he was finished, he moved around the room, placing a stone in each corner.

  “What are you doing?” Bree demanded.

  The suspicion in her tone made his lips twitch, but he stopped his smile in time. No point in angering her more than she was already. He put the last one in place and straightened before he said, “I cast a spell on the stones to screen our presence. We’re not invisible, but we can’t be picked up from a distance. A demon would have to be near the hotel to detect us.”

  Bree scowled, but Andras ignored that, too. She’d had a hell of a night and it wasn’t over yet. Unzipping his jacket, he shrugged out of it and hung it in the closet.

  His bruising had healed during the bike ride from the warehouse to the hotel and a touch of magic had freshened their clothes and cleaned them up as good as a shower. They’d still gotten an odd look from the desk clerk, but that probably had more to do with the lack of luggage than their appearance.

  He walked toward Bree, but she tensed when he neared the halfway point. Changing course, he jammed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and leaned his hips against the dresser. “You ready to talk?” he asked.

  “What do we have to talk about? You’re a demon.” She spit out the word like a curse.

  “I am,” he said, keeping his tone relaxed and easy.

  “That’s why you and that blond male didn’t use weapons or talons. It’s why you didn’t kill him when you had the chance.” Bree’s dark eyes were shooting daggers at him. “He’s a friend of yours, isn’t he?”

  “I wouldn’t call Raum a friend.”

  “Oh? And what would you call him then?”

  Andras considered that for a moment. “I suppose I’d refer to him as a colleague.”

  “You like him.”

  The accusation in her voice had him taking a deep breath. This attitude wasn’t unexpected. Andras had known how she’d react when she discovered what he was from the first time they’d met. “I don’t dislike him and I respect his skills.”

  Bree folded her arms over her chest, but didn’t say a word.

  He let the silence stand until some of the rigidity eased from her muscles. “I’m sorry you found out about me this way. I intended to break it to you in my own time and more gently.”

  “You expect me to buy that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why should I believe a word you say?”

  Pulling his hands from his pockets, he curled them around the edge of the dresser and held on tightly to stop himself from going to her. She wasn’t ready for that yet. “Because you trust me. You do,” Andras cut off her protest. “If you didn’t, we both know you wouldn’t be in this hotel room with me now.”

  Bree looked as if she was ready to argue that point, but instead she settled back and released a long breath. Her anger seemed to evaporate with the sigh. Andras relaxed his grip, his own tension ebbing as the worst of her temper passed.

  “I can’t disagree with you there, can I? Not when I paid for the room.”

  His lips curved. “It’s hard to apply for a credit card when you list your residence as the other world.”

  Her grin was reluctant, but it was real and she lowered her hands to the arms of the chair. “Not to mention the thing about having a human job and a social security number.”

  “That, too.” His voice came out raspier than he’d intended, but her smile affected him.

  She was beautiful—her long, dark hair was pulled back, away from her face, but he knew what it looked like loose; he had fantasies about her trailing it over his naked body. Her face was oval with high cheekbones and lips that were full enough that she always looked as if she was pouting. He knew Bree well enough to guess she hated that, but it made him want to kiss her.

  Hell, he thought, shaki
ng his head, he almost always wanted to kiss and hold her. And it was her, not her lips, that tempted him. He loved the way her chin went up and her brown eyes flashed when he challenged her. He loved how she laughed, unafraid to enjoy a moment to its fullest. But most of all he loved her tenacity, her determination, her fire, and her desire to protect and defend others. Bree Molina was special.

  “Do you know what the deal was tonight?” she asked, sounding slightly subdued. “Why are so many demons after me?”

  Reluctantly, he turned his focus back to the conversation. She needed to understand exactly what was going on in case something happened to him. “I know. Charges were brought against you in my world. You were tried in absentia by a tribunal formed for this hearing and found guilty of murder.”

  “Murder!” She appeared indignant. “I never killed anyone!”

  “You’re wrong. You’ve killed demons, and a lot of them, over the years.”

  Bree pushed herself to her feet and came toward him, not stopping until she was about five feet away. “Why now? I took down my first demon when I was sixteen, why wait ten years?”

  Andras glanced over at small ink spot on the neutral beige carpeting and drew a deep breath before he met Bree’s gaze again. “Because you confined yourself to killing stronger demons. As long as the fight was considered fair, it wasn’t an issue.”

  “Every man for himself?”

  One side of his mouth quirked up. “Something like that. But about a month ago, you hunted down a weak demon.”

  Bree’s puzzled look lasted for a couple of seconds before memory cleared it away. “There was a male a few weeks ago who felt, I don’t know, less…dangerous than most, but I caught him trying to rape some college girl. He deserved what he got.”

  Her tone was unrelenting, but Andras expected nothing less from her. “I don’t disagree, but his family raised an outcry and the trial was convened.”

  “Talk about a kangaroo court.” Bree reached back and released her hair. “It can’t be legal if I’m not there.”

  She began trying to smooth the renegade strands and Andras clenched his hands to keep from reaching out and doing it for her. Damn, he wanted to touch her, to gather her to him, but they had a long way to go before she’d allow him to do that.

  Clearing his throat to lose the lump lodged there, he said, “Our justice system is different than yours. It wasn’t necessary for you to be present, merely represented. You were. Your advocate lost the case.”

  “Let me guess, my advocate was inept.” She stuck whatever had been restraining her hair into the front pocket of her jeans.

  Andras straightened, but when Bree took a step back, he resettled against the dresser. “I don’t know that, but I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “So the demons tonight were what? A posse?”

  “More like bounty hunters. A price—a significant price,” he corrected, “was put on your head. Avarice runs deep in my people and pretty much any demon who thinks he has a chance of taking you is out for your blood.”

  Her brows drew down. She was thinking through what he’d told her, and Andras wondered whether she’d notice there were omissions in what he’d shared. Maybe she was too overwhelmed. Somehow, though, he doubted he was going to get that lucky, not with Bree.

  “Those five demons who were in the warehouse were afraid of the blond one,” she said slowly. “Is that because they’re amateurs and he’s a professional bounty hunter?”

  “No.”

  She waited, but when he stayed silent, she prodded, “Then why were they scared?”

  A strong urge to fabricate welled up, but Andras pushed it aside. Omissions were one thing, but he wouldn’t outright lie to Bree. He couldn’t if he wanted to keep her trust. Still, he wasn’t ready to watch her connect the dots once he gave her the unvarnished truth. “It would be speculation—“

  “Then speculate.”

  So be it. “We break ourselves into branches—different types of demons belong to different groups, some stronger than others. Raum is from the most powerful group.”

  “And?” She took a step closer. “There’s more—spit it out.”

  “A price on your head wasn’t the only part of your sentence. You also have someone assigned to execute you for your crimes.”

  “Raum.”

  Andras nodded and held his breath.

  “Your colleague, which would make you an executioner, too.” He nodded again and she spun away, stalking over to the window. “How many humans have you killed?” she demanded.

  “None.” Bree looked skeptical and that angered him. He’d never prey on the weak. “None,” Andras repeated, voice hard. “My job is to hunt the darkest and most dangerous of my kind, the ones that our courts have sentenced to death. My talents would never be wasted on a mere human.”

  “Really? Then why are Raum’s talents being wasted on a mere human?”

  Shit. He’d let his temper take over and said the wrong thing. Would a feint get her off this track? One glance was all it took for Andras to drop that idea, but there had to be a way to avoid this subject. “You’re hardly a mere human.”

  Bree’s lips curved and Andras breathed a sigh of relief. Too soon, he realized, when he heard her next question.

  “Is Raum after me because I’m a slayer and slayers are considered differently from other humans?”

  She wasn’t going to let him off the hook and there was no evasion left that he could make. Andras straightened and moved enough to block the path to the door in case she decided to run. “There are no living slayers that are completely human.”

  “What? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Only because she didn’t want it to make sense. “Do you honestly believe that any human is strong enough to survive a fight with a demon? You should know better.”

  She shook her head with enough force to send her hair flying. “Lots of slayers have survived. I’ve survived.”

  “Because your father came from the strongest branch.” Andras softened his voice. “You’re part demon.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Bree stared at Andras, waiting for him to laugh and say, I’m joking. Only he didn’t. His demeanor remained sober and his gaze steady.

  “I’m not half demon!” There was more force in her voice than she’d intended and Bree cleared her throat. “You’ve made a mistake,” she said in a more reasonable tone. “My mother was a slayer—she killed demons.”

  “No matter how much you’d like to deny it, you have demon blood. More than half, too.”

  His calmness seemed to increase her panic, but she was determined to control it. “No, that’s not true. If slayers were part demon, someone would know about it.”

  “It is true. Maybe you and the others are unaware of it, but you can bet whoever recruited you knows.” He took a step toward her, but came to a halt when she backed up. “I’m sorry. I’d hoped to break this to you later, after you’d had time to adjust to what I am. After you’d had time to mellow your attitude toward demons. Unfortunately, this situation forced the timing.”

  Shaking her head, Bree fought harder to hang on to her self-command. His sympathy was making it difficult for her, though.

  Andras said softly, “Your mother was at least half demon herself, probably from one of the most powerful branches. As for your father, he came from the same group that I do.”

  She shook her head again. “Why do you think that about my mother? Because she was a slayer?”

  “That’s part of it, but not all.” Andras tucked his hands in his pockets and studied her. Maybe deciding how much he was going to share. She was about to push him, when he continued, “Your parents were mated. That could only occur if she was at least half demon.”

  Bree unclenched her fists. “Not true. I’ve heard of demons who’ve—“

  “I didn’t say we don’t get involved with others. It happens. Our prince has given his heart to a vampire female, but he’s not mated to her no matter how much he’d probably
like to be. Mating is only between two demons.”

  “Anyone can get married,” Bree scoffed, but it was bravado. Fear was rising up, choking her.

  “It’s more than marriage. Demons can usually identify their destined mate within minutes of meeting, and once they’ve mated, they’re bound to each other for life. Not only do they desire only each other, but they’d die to protect their mate. Your parents had that tie—that’s why the demon slayers killed them both—your mother wouldn’t run and leave your father.”

  Bree fought to slow her heart. Everything he said seemed to fit together, seemed to be logical, but it couldn’t be. “A demon killed my mother.”

  “No. You were there. Cast your mind backward in time. Look at the visions.”

  It wouldn’t work, she decided, but she closed her eyes anyway. Besides, if she got something, it would show he was wrong. Instead, in her mind’s eye, she saw a dozen slayers encircling her parents. Bree hurriedly looked back at Andras. As much as she wished she could accuse him of planting thoughts, he hadn’t. But she wasn’t ready to examine what she’d seen, not now. That was for some other time when she was safe, when she could afford to be vulnerable. “How can you know anything about my parents?”

  “My father and yours were friends and visited often. You and I met because my father asked me to find you, to check and see how you were faring.”

  “So your people finally remembered I existed, huh? Took you long enough.” Bree could barely force the words out. “Of course, since I’m not a demon, it makes a lot more sense that no one paid me a visit before you did.”

  He shrugged. “I can’t speak for what others did or didn’t do. All I can tell you are my actions. You require proof of your heritage? Take off your jacket.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  For a long moment, she stared at him. Bree trusted Andras, he was right about that, but she was frightened of this so-called proof. She wasn’t a demon. She couldn’t be and whatever he was hoping to demonstrate would fail. Lowering the zipper on her leather jacket, she shrugged out of it and tossed it on the chair behind her. Her black tank top had ridden up, baring her middle, and she tugged it down. “Well?”