Darkness Awakened

by Stephanie Rowe

  He frowned. It had sort of slipped out, but he could see the alarm on her face. Neither of them could afford anything more than empty sex. Her eternal future depended on it, which meant he had to keep his thoughts to himself…well…actually, he couldn't afford to admit them even to himself. He couldn’t choose Justine over his brother. He had to keep it all business, so that he could do what he had to do, if it came to that. "All I meant is that you shouldn't argue when I offer to fight off naked men for you."

  "I thought it meant you weren't going to kill me if we couldn't solve the Curse." She glanced down and saw an alarming number of Penyas climbing up toward them. "They're so persistent."

  They both paused to unleash a stream of bullets down toward the streets, and then they hurried down through the blue smoke before others could replace them.

  "You know," she said. "It's not very chivalrous to have sex with a woman and then kill her."

  "Agreed. But it's not very polite to sleep with a man and then kill him." They reached the bottom before more Penyas realized they were escaping, dropped to the ground, and sprinted for the nearest Uber.

  "As I said, there's no room for chivalry in my life," she said as she dove into the backseat of the Uber. "And didn't you promise back there that you wouldn't let me die?"

  He busied himself shutting the door. "I was talking about the Penyas."

  "Ah. Too bad for me."

  Too bad for both of us. He fell onto the seat next to her and gave the cabbie directions as scantily clad men began dropping from her fire escape. "Well, on the plus side, we managed to have sex without endangering your eternal soul."

  She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes, breathing heavily. "Maybe the Penyas will follow us and we'll have to do it again."

  "You think?" He slung his arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him, so she was resting against his chest. He needed her to be there, and she didn't seem to mind.

  "I can only hope."

  He kissed the top of her head. "Shall I leave a trail of breadcrumbs so they can find us?"

  "Definitely."

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Justine was still feeling a little dizzy by the time they arrived at the Waldorf Astoria, after a thirty-minute ride around the city to make sure they'd lost the Penyas.

  She'd had sex.

  S.E.X.

  It had been over a half hour since Derek had rocked her world, and her legs were still trembling, her brain was still consumed by some soft fuzzy emotion, and she didn't want to move out of Derek's arms. Ever.

  She didn't even have the energy to tell Derek to quit being a gentleman when he helped her out of the Uber and kept his hand on her back as they walked up to the front desk. She wanted him to keep touching her, to put his head next to hers and whisper sweet nothings.

  And then she wanted him to rip her clothes off and take her right in the lobby of the hotel, in front of all these people and gorgeous pieces of furniture. Orgasm after orgasm. Lots of exposed flesh. Licking, kissing, caressing...

  Oh, she was in such trouble. She had no Penyas to blame right now either. Just Derek, and his irritatingly tempting smiles.

  "You all right?" His brow wrinkled as he peered at her, his eyes warm and soft.

  "Just because we had sex doesn't mean I'm going to shirk my duty or put your life above Mona's eternal safety." Yeah, yeah. What she said.

  One eyebrow arched in amusement. "Methinks the Guardian doth protest too much."

  "Shut up."

  Derek gave her an easy smile, then leaned on the reception desk, his hand still caressing her back. In a moment, she would reclaim her independence, but, for just one minute, she wanted to enjoy the sensation of a man doting on her.

  How was she ever going to go back to her life? She liked taking on bad guys and canoodling with Derek far too much to ever be satisfied with sitting in her condo drawing aliens again.

  "Can you ring the room for Iris Bennett please?" Derek asked the gray-haired distinguished man behind the desk.

  Right. She'd forgotten they were there to deal with Satan. Nothing like thoughts of evil Otherworld beings to help bring a Guardian down from the high of her first orgasm in two centuries.

  The clerk gave him a practiced smile. "One minute." He studied the computer, then dialed the phone. After a moment, he said, "I'm afraid she isn't in. Would you care to leave a message?"

  "No, thanks. We'll try again later."

  Justine leaned around Derek. "Do you have a listing for Satan?"

  The clerk barely managed to retain his bland expression. "I beg your pardon?"

  "Not the real Satan," she quickly ad-libbed. "It's a celebrity who doesn't use his own name. He's thinks it's funny to register as Satan." Well, he was a celebrity, right? And she was pretty sure he'd think it was funny to scare people in fancy hotels. "Please check."

  He did as instructed, and shook his head. "No Satan."

  She glanced at Derek, then leaned closer to the desk clerk. "I don't suppose Iris has two rooms reserved?"

  "No. She has a suite with a king bed. Our most luxurious."

  "Oh. Great. That sounds special." One room for her mom and Satan. "I think I'm going to be sick," she muttered to Derek as she turned away from the desk.

  "Parents shouldn't be allowed to have sex," he concurred as he slipped his hand around her elbow. "It's not even eleven yet. They're probably still out on the town. Let's get a drink at the bar and wait for a bit. Decompress."

  Right. She could use some decompression.

  She allowed Derek to take her hand as they walked into the bar, and she couldn't suppress her happy sigh at the feel of her hand in his. And when he shot her a smile, it totally made her go a little melty.

  Damn him for being so sweet.

  With a sigh, she sank down into a plushy couch next to a low table, while he went off to get drinks. She couldn't help but watch him as he walked away from her, his stride easy and long, his jeans fitting perfectly over his gorgeous behind. The one she'd been wrapped around only a short time ago.

  He glanced over his shoulder, caught her looking and grinned.

  She smiled back. Why pretend? After that sex, he had to know she had the hots for him. The fluttery sensations in her belly that were far more than sexual attraction? He didn't need to know about that. He'd think she wasn't going to be able to kill him…

  Damn.

  She groaned and let her head flop back against the cushions. She didn't want to kill him. How could she end the life of the only man who'd given her an orgasm since she'd become a Guardian? Not just any orgasm. One that was so incredible she was still feeling sparks pricking her fingers and toes.

  "Guardian?"

  Her eyes snapped open. Three men stood in front of her. One was a pirate, right down to the gold earring and scabbard. Another was wearing a white robe and had a long white beard. A third man was wearing a navy suit and an understated tie.

  The Council.

  Uh oh.

  Her heart started pounding, and panic gripped her as she bolted upright. Sweat dripped down her back as she gave them a calm smile (as if!). "So good to see you again."

  "We need to meet with you," the businessman said.

  Oh, shit. "Have a seat." She gestured at the chairs around them, trying to take up as much of the couch as possible. No way did she want them sitting that close to her. Were they there to take her to the Chamber? Did they know she and Derek had had sex? How would they know? But if they did…she was in so much trouble.

  Derek walked up behind them, carrying two drinks. She coughed, waving her hand casually toward the three men. He frowned and glanced at them.

  The Council members sat in unison, one in each of the arm chairs surrounding the coffee table in front of her. "Where is the Goblet?" the pirate asked.

  Derek raised his brows when he heard the question, and he took a closer look at the men.

  "She is with my designated successor," Justine said.

  "Again?" The o
ld man pulled out a notepad and jotted something down.

  Somehow, she doubted it was a compliment about her excellent fashion sense. She cleared her throat. "According to article seven, section three, subparagraph a of the Treatise, entrusting physical custody of the Goblet to the designated successor is permitted in emergency situations." All the Treatise reading of late had come in handy. "We were attacked by Penyas and had to separate. Deadly force was involved, which triggers the emergency response clause, which permits me to break all rules which, in my sole discretion, I deem necessary to ensure the Goblet's safety." Hah. Take that, ye conservative old men in dated attire. "As is my right, I have deemed that the emergency state will continue to be in existence until we end the Curse on this man." She pointed at Derek. "And until we find out who sent the Penyas after us."

  Still standing behind the Council, Derek gave her a big grin and a thumbs up, which made her feel great. That had been pretty good, hadn't it?

  The three members of the Council stared at her in surprised silence. Guess they'd never before dealt with a Guardian who'd actually read the Treatise.

  Derek walked past the men and sat down next to her, giving her a private wink. She grinned at his appreciation of her brilliance.

  The pirate eyed him. "So, you're the Cursed one."

  "I'm Derek LaValle, of the LaValle clan." Derek stood up and shook everyone's hands. "I'm working with the Guardian to break the Curse so later generations of LaValle men don't continue to come after the Goblet until they eventually succeed. Justine is a stellar Guardian and has tried to kill me on more than one occasion. I am fully aware she lets me live only for now, and when the time comes, she will kill me as she is supposed to."

  "Sit," commanded the old man.

  "At your service." Derek did as directed, and Justine could see the tension in his neck.

  It made her feel better to know he had her back. Yes, she was accustomed to working independently, but he was a good addition. The Penyas would have been a wee bit difficult to manage by herself. She shifted her leg so her left thigh rested against his. It was a slight touch, but the contact made her feel settled. Grounded. Especially when he leaned back and pressed his shoulder against hers.

  For now, they were a team, and it was okay with her.

  The businessman sat across from them, his gold watch flashing in the candlelight. "We are here to set a date for your Judgment."

  A Judgment? That sounded like a really unpleasant thing. She'd skipped the section in the Treatise on Judgments, an oversight that might have been a bad idea. "Thanks for the offer, but I decline."

  He raised his eyebrows. "You can't decline."

  "Oh." Terribly unfortunate. It had been worth a try.

  "Two days hence. We will come for you."

  "Two days?" She dug her fingers into the couch, but tried to keep her voice calm. "That's not enough time for me to prepare."

  "The head of the Council has vacation planned next week. She needs to get this done before she leaves."

  "Vacation? You're depriving me of time to gather enough evidence to save my eternal soul because she has vacation plans? Isn't that a due process violation? I'll—" She pressed her lips shut when Derek increased the pressure of his shoulder against hers. Don't make things worse, Justine.

  "It's plenty of time." The businessman stood up. "You'll still be allowed to present your side."

  "Not that it will help you save your soul. You've broken too many rules." The old man tucked his notepad into the folds of his robe and teetered his way to his feet. "The decision is basically made."

  Well. If that was the case, she might as well have wild sex with Derek until her brains melted. The memory could sustain her through an eternity of unspeakable horrors.

  Then the pirate winked at her. "They're blowing smoke, my love. I like how you're handling this situation. It shows innovation, creative thinking, and fantastic problem-solving skills. You're dealing with uncharted territory here, and the Guardian position needs to evolve to keep current with modern society. As long as you save the Goblet, you'll be fine."

  "Nonsense. She's doomed either way." The old man latched onto the pirate's arm and gave him a quelling glare that had the pirate glowering at him. "Don't give her false hope."

  "It's not false." The pirate whipped out his sword and pointed it at the old man's neck. "How many times do I have to tell you not to grab me?"

  The old man flicked the tip away from him with one finger. "You're too volatile for this position. No wonder you died by mutiny of your own crew."

  "It wasn't a mutiny, you old bas—"

  "Enough." The businessman stepped between them and confiscated the sword. "The decision hasn't been made," he announced. "Until all information is in, it's still undecided." He looked at Justine. "Unless you lose the Goblet. No trial if that happens. It's straight to hell for you."

  Well, that was certainly cheerful and supportive. "I'll save Mona."

  Derek leaned forward. "We will save Mona. Justine needs my help, and that's the only reason I'm still alive." She gave him a gentle bump of appreciation with her shoulder and he squeezed her thigh.

  His support gave her the courage to smile at the Council as they encircled the table.

  "We'll be back for you in two days," the businessman said. "Judgment will be rendered at that time. You have two days to construct your case."

  "You're doomed," the old man said before the businessman grabbed his sleeve and prodded him to the door. "You might as well surrender now."

  The pirate's golden earrings sparkled in the candlelight. "You'll be fine. No worries."

  She touched his arm. "Do you mean that? Because if I really am doomed to an eternity of unspeakable horrors, I want to know now."

  He patted her hand. "Well, you'll be fine as long as you don't screw it up. It's all up to you." Then he gave Derek a thumbs up and wink. "Excellent job with the Penyas, Cursed One."

  "Jerome!" The businessman shouted. "Now!"

  The pirate's face darkened, and he stalked toward the door, muttering epithets and extolling the virtues of piracy and the high seas.

  She gaped after him, heat rising in her cheeks. "Penyas? How did they know what you did? Do you think they were actually...watching?"

  Derek leaned over and kissed her hard. Deep. His kisses sent emotions cascading through her until her fingers were burning. With a deep sigh, she leaned into him, clutching his shirt as she kissed him back. Without the Penya pheromones cluttering her brain, she was fully aware of Derek. His touch. His scent. His kiss. The way he made her feel like she was treasured, amazing, and accepted exactly as she was.

  When she was oozing around the floor in a puddle of sexual bliss, he finally broke the kiss and grinned. "I don't want you thinking of anything but me when you think about what we did in your loft. I had to kiss you to get the idea of the Council being voyeurs out of your mind."

  She sagged into his chest. "You're such an arrogant male. I hate arrogant males."

  "Yeah, I can tell." He nibbled on her earlobe, his chuckle vibrating deep in his chest. "What do you say we go track down your mom and Satan and get this deal taken care of?"

  She hoisted herself off him. "Let's do it. I have a Council to thwart."

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Satan shut the door, leaned against it and gave Iris a leering grin. "It is time to rock your world, no?"

  Iris put her hands on her hips and tried to give him a stern look. "I told you, just because I let you take me to Hamilton and buy me a lavish, delicious dinner with incredibly expensive wine doesn't mean I'm going to have sex with you."

  He wiggled his eyebrows and levered himself off the door, gliding across the plush carpet. "No, but the fact you didn't object to one room and one bed says much."

  "It says I was looking forward to forcing you to sleep on the floor." She turned on the ornate brass lamp next to the embroidered sofa that framed the seating area.

  He shrugged off his tuxedo jacket and tossed it
on the king-sized bed. "We will sleep on the floor together. And on the bed. And on the coffee table. And in the shower." He came to a stop directly in front of her, his body only inches from hers. "I am the best lover in the Afterlife. We will have sex on every piece of furniture in this room. Twice. And then we start over."

  She scooted around the sofa and flicked on the floor lamp. "No."

  He gave her a wounded look and leapt over the back of the sofa to land in front of her as she tried to skulk around the back of it. "But why? How do you find the cruelness in your soul to reject me? I have been waiting for you for two hundred and twenty-four years. Do you realize how long that is for a man of my virility?"

  "It hasn't been two hundred and twenty-four years since you've had sex. You went on a sex rampage, remember?" She turned to go the other way, then froze when he caught her wrist. God, his touch felt so good. It had been so long. "Let go of me."

  "I already forgot about all the other women. I have no mind for anyone but my love muffin." He traced his fingers lightly over the necklace he'd given her earlier in the evening. With its perfect diamonds and the way Satan had begged her to accept it, she'd been unable to turn it down.

  "But you're a lying, manipulative bastard, remember?" Yes, Iris, remember? You know he'll break your heart, use you and cast you aside. Just say no! It's all lies! But what if it wasn't lies anymore? What if he really wanted her for who she was? What if he had really changed?

  "Of course I lie and manipulate. I am Satan. I can be no other way." He trailed his index finger over her collarbone, and a delighted smile broke over his face. "Goosebumps! I turn you on!"

  "I'm cold." But it was getting more difficult to keep the hostile tone in her voice. How could she help it? He was Satan. Charming. Irreverent. Clever. Persistent. He'd always had a place in her soul. How could she resist those dimples? He wore his tuxedo like he was born for greatness, and it framed his narrow waist and wide shoulders perfectly.

  "I shall heat you up, then." He moved closer and kissed her throat, his lips drifting over her skin like a butterfly. "I am Satan. I am heat. I am fire. I burn in you."