The Demon Within (A PeaceKeeper Novel)

by Stacey Brutger

  He could lie and say he needed to make up with his girlfriend, but that would mean crossing the metal framing between first class and coach. It would weaken him and leave Caly vulnerable. It was hard enough to sit in the tin can. Getting on and off drained him more than he wanted to admit. Even now, the metal seeped into him like slow poison. Moving around would be torture.

  The little twit knew she was beyond his reach. He was tempted to do it anyway to see how she reacted, but teaching her a lesson wasn’t worth the cost of her life.

  Neck craned, he caught a glimpse of Caly’s cinnamon brown hair only infrequently. Not often enough to suit him. Through the parted curtain, he saw a man reach across the aisle and touch her arm. Fury ripped through him at the man’s audacity. As Caly turned, he waited for her to blast the man.

  Instead, she smiled. When she leaned closer, the curtain between the compartments closed. The blonde continued to babble to him every time she passed, but Ruman didn’t hear anything above the pounding fury of his blood.

  Pain radiated from his hands, and he glanced down to see the heavy plastic of the armrest ooze between his fingers. All to prevent himself from ripping the guy’s head off. Breathing the tin-tasting recycled air did nothing to soothe his nerves.

  By conscious effort, he loosened his hold, idly contemplating crossing the barrier between the two classes, almost wishing for the pain just to be able to smash the man to smithereens. Physical agony would distract him from the violent emotions that roared inside him.

  No one touched Caly except for him. Especially not some unwashed, skinny human. The only thing preventing him was the thought of her wandering around alone while he recuperated. Somehow, he didn’t think she would remain where he put her.

  * * *

  “Enjoy your stay.”

  The stewardess who’d remained at Ruman’s side the whole trip waved and winked at him. Really, you’d think she’d have more to do then cater to one passenger. Every time Caly stood to return to her seat, the woman would be there offering Ruman a pillow or blanket. It sickened her to watch some other woman touch him. On the fourth round, Caly knew she couldn’t stomach being seated next to him, watching him romance another woman. Every time a roguish smile came to Ruman’s lips, she wanted to rip out his throat.

  The man had enough blankets and pillows to start his own harem. The ass professed to accompany her on the trip to keep her safe. Instead, he sat in first class, flirting the whole way across the Atlantic.

  She’d thought when the dirt bag with bad breath reached for her, he’d come to her rescue. The college kids with him were determined to have a good time, and she was the entertainment. She nearly crushed his hand when he tried to touch her. That shut them up for a while until they grew a pair of balls between the three of them and tried flirting again.

  And he’d been too busy with her to even spot the potential for trouble. Caly admitted she could’ve excused herself and returned to her seat, but she needed a little breathing room past the attraction that had her twisted up in knots.

  But apparently the attraction wasn’t as mutual as she’d thought. No doubt if she searched his pockets, she’d find the blonde’s number.

  It was better this way she told herself, but the reassurance felt hollow.

  At the terminal, she claimed her weapons, more than ready to leave this place. Arms laden, she walked to the exit, eager to feel the early pre-dawn air on her flesh, purposely ignoring Ruman as he sulked a pace behind her.

  Only to come to a stop at the exit. She tightened her lips then shifted her bundles to reach for the door. She’d bet he’d open the door for the blonde.

  “Need help?” His query held no inflection of any kind.

  Her muscles quivered under the strain of the bags. She cast a narrow look at him and bit back a snarl. “No, thanks. I think I have it now.” At his answering shrug, she barely resisted the urge to slap him upside the head.

  While they waited for a taxi, she let go of her burdens. Sitting on her large weapon case, she studied the man next to her. Since the plane, his attitude had changed from overprotective to the complete opposite. She resisted the urge to check her pulse to make sure she hadn’t dropped dead. She hated to admit it, but she preferred the fire to this indifference.

  The ride to the hotel was uneventful. A twinge went through her as she looked out the window, regretting not being able to see Cairo come alive during the day. Thankfully, they arrived at the hotel quickly. She didn’t know how much more of the stifling silence she could take. In the lobby, Caly signed the register.

  Ruman maintained his distance. Even now, his back toward her, he studied the paintings on the walls instead of standing next to her. She discretely sniffed herself but detected no odor.

  “Here you go, Miss.” The young man handed over her keycards, and she smiled wanly in return.

  “Thank you.” Not willing to let her weapons out of her sight, Caly refused the bellhop service and struggled on her own. The elevators doors were a glossy brass, the high shine reflecting the background. Too distract herself from the tight space to come, she watched the people move about the city, refusing to acknowledge the way her pulse pounded by just standing near the blasted lift.

  Ruman joined her. When the doors opened, he lifted her case as easy as that, and waited for her to enter. Caly paused then nodded slightly, too exhausted to argue and too leery of the cramped quarters to fight. “Thank you.”

  It was one thing to carry extra equipment on your person, it was quite another to lug around a seventy-pound pack. The ride up seemed to take hours but was probably only seconds.

  On the third floor, as soon as the door opened, she all but spilled out into the hallway, greedily sucking in air as unobtrusively as possible as she escaped the metal coffin.

  They walked down the hallway decorated with muted brown carpeting and beige walls. The decor described her feelings perfectly. As soon as she expected something from someone else, she always received the shaft. She should’ve known better than to expect more by now.

  She handed him a card key to the connecting suite. “You’re next door.”

  He hesitated like he would say something, but instead, set down her case and left without a word. The door latched behind him with a finality that made her heart ache.

  What else did she expect? That he would pursue her? They both knew that’d be impossible. But a part of her mind whispered it would’ve been worth it. She rested her forehead against the cool oak door and took a deep breath, then straightened. “This is a job.”

  The mumbled words didn’t help. She unlocked her door and stepped forward. Ruman had the connecting doors open, searching her room as if expecting her pillows to attack her.

  To avoid an argument, Caly set down her cases and went to the balcony. The walls closed around her, his cold silence stealing the air. She needed space. Her hand barely touched the knob when Ruman grabbed her arm.

  It was too much. “Get your hands off me.” A snarl curled her lips and the darkness balled in her gut stirred, eager for a fight and the opportunity to teach this demon his place.

  He paused then deliberately loosened his hold, taking his own pretty little time. The bastard.

  “These stay shut.”

  Caly opened her mouth but before she could say a word, he walked off. Indignant at his callous attitude, she followed him. “Wait a minute, Caesar, who made you the ruler?”

  He spun so fast, Caly just missed plowing into him. He gripped her upper arms and shook her with enough force that her head snapped back. “Listen here, you little brat.”

  “Of all the nerve. I don’t know what your problem is bucko, but—”

  Instead of hollering, he picked her up off the floor.

  “Hey!” Feet dangling, she met his gaze. “Put. Me. Down.” She spit out the words between gritted teeth. Only a man would try to use his strength to win an argument.

  “It’s my job to keep you alive. If you don’t like it, or if it’s too much of
an imposition, tough. Get used to it.”

  He barked the words at her like he’d earned the right to say them. She’d spent every day of her life battling to stay alive. She didn’t need him to step in and try to take over.

  His lips tightened in anger. “Don’t ever, purposely, leave my sight again.” He pulled her closer, anger burning in his eyes. “You won’t like the consequences.”

  Caly looked down at him, furious at being treated as a means to an end and not as a person, a desirable woman. “Release me.”

  His eyes narrowed, his smile became more predatory. “Not until I have your word that you’ll listen.”

  “I’ll listen, but I don’t have to obey, demon.”

  The taunt shoved him to the edge of his control, and she bit her lip, wondering if she pushed him too far. His fingers tightened, his eyes darkened. “Your word or we’ll stay like this all day.” He casually shifted her closer, unaffected by anything but his own anger. “I’m part demon. A guardian statue. One touch of sunlight and I turn back into a statue until nightfall.”

  The thought of him being imprisoned after so many years tore at her heart, and her anger evaporated. Before she could comment, he dipped his head a fraction.

  “How would you like to spend the day dangling from my hands? I might not like the prison but for you, I’ll make an exception.”

  The repugnant expression on his face let her know just what he thought about being near her. Caly swallowed past the lump in her throat, feeling unwanted and undesirable, but it was the near incapacitating fear of being imprisoned that reignited her anger. She wouldn’t let anyone do that to her again. “Is that a threat?”

  His smile was all teeth. “You bet, babe. I’m not one of your pretty boys on the plane.”

  What the hell was he talking about? “Then maybe you better think again. I’m not a blond bimbo with nothing in my head. I’ll say it only one more time. Put me down.” Caly was proud the way her voice remained calm while she seethed at his highhandedness and worse, how he remained so unaffected by her.

  Ruman leaned so close their noses almost touched. Emotions tumbled through her and the flames of anger flickered, the burn heating her body in another way. Trying to catch her breath, she waited in anticipation of his next move.

  “Make. Me.”

  The ballsy statement had her blinking at his audacity. If he wanted to fight, she’d give him one and relish showing him that she wasn’t just one of his assignments. She brought one arm between them and gave him a solid jab in the solar plexus. Air rushed out of his lungs.

  Instead of releasing her, his hold tightened.

  “If that’s all you have, you might as well go home now.” He released her suddenly, dropping her on her backside then walked away.

  Disbelief slammed through her when his broad back filled her vision, dismissing her like a pesky insect. It was too much. On silent feet, she ran and leapt. She slipped her right arm around his throat and locked her left hand around her wrist.

  He stumbled under the chokehold, her weight knocking him off his feet. Just before they hit the floor, Caly released him, afraid she’d snap his neck. She rolled, but instead of landing on her shoulder and coming to her feet, Ruman twisted and grabbed her. Caly’s elbow struck a solid blow to his shoulder with enough force to crack bone.

  A grimace of pain creased his face before a mask descended. Caly sat, panting, her legs straddling his waist, feeling foolish and petty. “Let me see.”

  She tugged down his collar, avoiding his gaze, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut instead of goading him. The area was a deep red, a bruise already forming. She sucked a breath in sympathy. “You need to get ice on that before your muscles stiffen.”

  When he didn’t speak, she reluctantly glanced at him. Only to find his face inches away. Caly couldn’t tell if his chest even moved. The wonder and uncertainty etched on his expression made her throat ache. She became very aware of her position, the solid feel of him beneath her.

  She would’ve pulled back if his gaze hadn’t dropped to her lips. If his eyes hadn’t darkened in hunger. When he didn’t move, her heart slammed against her ribs.

  What harm could they get into with one taste? Get it out of the way so they could focus on the mission.

  She dipped her head, knowing it was wrong, but a whisper said it would also be so good. Her lips hovered over his before she took the plunge and brushed her mouth against his.

  His body quivered with the strain to remain still, neither pushing her away or welcoming her. Taking a chance, she traced his lips with her tongue, slowly, carefully, determined to get a reaction from him, enjoying the giddy sensation of danger too much to release him yet.

  He tasted like the mints on the plane, hot licorice and raw sex. Fire and temptation spread with each second of contact.

  Her chest tightened, her body ached, and she knew she had to put distance between them before she lost all sense of her surroundings.

  She’d been foolish to touch him.

  To think one touch would be enough.

  She broke the kiss, but didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. Not until she convinced her body to behave, convinced it she’d survive without his touch. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the contact, the connection of just being with another person.

  Silence fell on her ears. When she gathered enough courage to open her eyes, she found his gaze locked on her, his eyes begging her not to leave.

  She loved that he left her in charge to decide how much or how little she wanted to give. The way he waited as if knowing they should stop, but couldn’t bring himself to be the first to pull away. It made her want more when she would’ve let reason talk some sense into her.

  One more taste.

  The whispered compulsion washed some of the heat out of her. It sounded too much like a craving the demon inside her often demanded when it woke.

  The warm flesh beneath hers did nothing to cool her desire. Part of her wanted him to react to her at least once before she did the sensible thing and could regret her folly.

  Watching him, she lowered her head and nipped at his throat. The shudder that went through him tossed all thoughts out of her mind but to see him completely at her mercy. She brought her hand up to his face, memorizing the angles, determined to find a way to drive him mad.

  She traced the line of his lips with her fingernail.

  So utterly masculine and deliciously kissable.

  Even hotter was the way he watched her with such yearning. Caly threaded her fingers in the hair at his temple, enjoying the texture of those luscious strands. She forced his head back and ruthlessly took his lips, slipping her tongue inside his mouth.

  Everything sharpened. She promised herself just one more taste, one reaction, one indication he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  And nothing.

  Not one reaction.

  At least not the one she wanted. There was no all consuming passion to just take what they wanted. At least not on his side.

  Mortified that she’d forced a kiss on him, she released him, ducked her head, too much of a coward to face him yet. Scrambling to erect her walls again, she did her best to gather enough of her wits together to get out of this situation with a little of her pride intact, not to mention her battered emotions.

  She drew back. Before an inch separated their bodies, he followed, sending her abused heart hiccupping in her chest. In a move to copy hers, he slipped his hand into her hair and held her as his mouth greedily crushed hers. Passion speared through her, racing through her limbs, and all her resolve crumbled under the assault without a second of regret.

  Desire pooled low in her belly, and the only relief lay in the man touching her. He traced a hand down her neck, leaving fire in his wake as her body tingled to life. Unable to help herself, she groaned and arched into him, rocking her hips against his in a silent plea for more.

  Chest tight, half-afraid he’d retreat, she wrapped her arms around him, drawing him closer. They
both drew in a deep breath when their bodies touched. Sensations rocketed through her. Her breasts begged for his mouth, her body all but screaming to take him now. Fast. Don’t think.

  It’d been too long since she allowed someone close, allowed anyone to touch her.

  He made her feel normal.

  Human.

  His eyes remained closed, his face a mask of intense pleasure that stole her breath just looking at him. Part of her wondered if he feared opening his eyes to discover that this was all a lie. The same fear ran through her. The solid feel of him beneath her touch her only reassurance.

  Unable to stop herself, she leaned forward for just one last kiss.

  Her tongue flicked out and she licked him.

  Once.

  Then again.

  When he tipped his head back, Caly tangled her fingers in his hair, glorying in the feel of him at her mercy. Teeth bared, she dragged them lightly down the strong column of his throat, relishing the privilege to touch him any way she wanted.

  His deep groan of pleasure from her touch heated her body more.

  The combination threatened to pull her under the sexual haze, demanded that she take more. The near loss of control made her hesitated.

  She needed to release him, didn’t dare go further, not with so many secrets between them. Not when he would be leaving her when he completed his job.

  After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Caly reluctantly raised her head. “Well…” The huskiness of her voice heated her cheeks and ears.

  Ruman stared at her like he’d never seen her before. “Well.” His deep voice made her heart trip in her chest. When Ruman lowered his gaze to her mouth, her poor heart all but stopped altogether.

  Something about his intense stare unnerved her. Naked during sex was one thing, mentally being stripped and observed was another thing altogether. She didn’t need him any closer, poking into her life. She’d only end up with her heart broken.