Dark Desire After Dark iad-6

by Kresley Cole

  The demon mercenary had looked up…cluster analysis and extremal combinatorics.

  Holly believed he'd had sex with Imatra, and Cade didn't know if he should try to convince his female otherwise. Holly had been bang-on with that "you're lying about something" crack.

  They passed another car accident, crawling at a snail's pace. The drive from Memphis to northern Michigan was eight hundred miles—they'd gone ten miles in the last hour.

  The palpable tension continued to build between them. She wasn't icy toward him, merely indifferent as she worked on her warrior code.

  She was just letting him know how inconsequential he was to her. Kind of like the first time they'd met. He could play that game. He would ignore her right back.

  He called Rök and checked in. "What's doing?" he asked in Demonish.

  "We've followed the lead on the vampires," Rök said. "Tonight, we strike."

  "Good news." Holly would be that much safer. "Hey, how long does it take to teach someone how to block mind reading? Could Holly learn in a couple of weeks?"

  Demons had the ability naturally. Other Lorekind could be taught.

  Rök gave a scoffing laugh. "Try a couple of years."

  Once they hung up, Cade was left to his thoughts. I'm ignoring her. That stance lasted until she pinched her forehead, looking miserable. "You all right?"

  She shrugged.

  "Let me guess? Carsick—with a headache?"

  She cast him a surprised look.

  "You're carsick because you're reading when we're stopping and starting. And your head hurts because you're still trying to use your glasses when your vision has changed."

  "I can't concentrate without my glasses."

  "Look, let's knock off early tonight. I saw a sign for a mom-and-pop motel in a small town not far ahead."

  "But we'll get behind schedule."

  "None doing. At this rate, we'll get to the bridge just after midnight and be forced to wait around anyway. Besides, we're near Chicago, and I have some gear I need to pick up tomorrow."

  "What kind of gear?"

  "You'll see…"

  23

  "You're a masochist, aren't you?" Holly asked when he suggested more training.

  "We can work with the sword tonight," he said. Though Cadeon had gotten two adjoining rooms at the motel, he insisted on lying on her bed. With his back against the headboard and his legs stretched out, he surfed channels, while she reconfigured anything not bolted down.

  "You think I'll need to know how to use a sword before I get changed back?" She could swear he was watching her rather than the pay-per-view he'd been so delighted to find here.

  "A lot of factions in the Lore carry them."

  "Okay. Fine, let's sword fight."

  "Good. Be right back." He rose and exited the room, returning a couple of minutes later with his sword and a broom. After snapping the end off the broom, he tossed the handle atop the bed, presumably for later sparring.

  Then, with grave formality, he unsheathed his sword.

  "How old is that thing? Have you had it carbon dated?"

  He looked aghast, as if she'd insulted his grandmother. "Hey, no disrespecting The Sword. Besides, it's only three or four centuries old."

  "Only? I would think that technology has improved since then. Why wouldn't you get a new one?"

  "I'm on my way to, remember? Try to keep up, halfling."

  She glared. "I meant in the last few hundred years."

  "If it ain't broke…This weapon's saved my life many a time."

  "How many have you killed with it?"

  A shadow crossed over his face. "Too many." Seeming to give himself a shake, he held it up. "Now this is a double-edged greatsword. It's made to cut through armor and cleave a man in two."

  "You really still use one of those?"

  "Guns are pretty useless on us, as you saw when I was saving your life like a champ two nights ago." He handed it to her. "It's quite a bit bigger than most swords. So it might be difficult for you to maneuver—"

  She easily lifted it with one hand, held it out at eye level to check its lines, then made an effortless circular slash.

  "Ah, not too heavy, then. But pay attention to the handle—it's made for you to hold it with both hands, like in a batter's grip." He moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her sides to place her hands. "Like this."

  "Are you going to smell my hair again?" she said sharply, irritated that she still reacted to his closeness.

  "Can I help that your hair attracts males? Yet you act like it's my fault. Now choke up a bit on your grip. That's it. Get a feel for it. We're going to swing it slowly right, then left," he said, guiding her movements.

  With each second she grew more comfortable holding the intimidating weapon.

  "A little history while you accustom yourself," he said, his mouth right at her ear. "The word sword comes from the Old English sweord, which comes from the root swer, meaning to stab or prick." His voice was as low and rumbling as ever. "Gladius, the Latin word for sword, also means penis."

  "It does not." She sounded unaccountably breathy.

  "Do you want to bet me?" His chin rubbed over the point of her ear, the stubble tickling the sensitive tip, and she had to stifle a shiver.

  Against her will, she found herself growing aroused by the heat of his massive body along her back. She could feel the rigid muscles of his torso flexing and relaxing as he moved with her.

  "Since the first sword was forged, it's been a symbol of manliness and virility. You can see why when it's upright. Tell me, Holly, as you grip the hilt, does it call to mind anything you've seen recently?"

  "Cadeon," she said warningly.

  He continued undaunted, "And if the Latin word sword means penis, then you can imagine that the term for scabbard is its counterpart. That's right, halfling, a scabbard is called a va—"

  "Stop! You're making this up."

  "I'm not. If you read Julius Caesar's De Bello Gallico in the original Latin, you're in for a laugh, because soldiers are always dropping their scabbards or even using their scabbards to clod their foes over the head."

  Another rasp of his chin over her ear. Did he know it was driving her crazy? Oh, of course he did!

  "They say every sword has its perfect scabbard."

  She refused to allow him to make even sword fighting sexual. "I'm going to double check everything you're saying."

  "Be my guest."

  "So you read Julius Caesar?"

  "In the original Latin, Holls. Do you like me better now that you know I can read ancient languages?"

  "I would have been impressed with proof that you can read at all."

  "Sharp-tongued Valkyrie. Now here's your fighting stance. Feet shoulder-width apart." He tapped her ankle with his own to get her to step her foot out more.

  "Should I stay on my toes?"

  "Good question. Normally, no. To withstand hits, you have to keep your balance—which is more easily done on flat feet. You'd be amazed at how hard another sword can come down—it'll throw you. And to give hard strikes, again, you need both feet firmly on the ground. That said, the Valkyrie fighting style is different than most."

  "How?"

  "They rely on speed. They can get behind you before you even have time to turn your head. Their swords are usually smaller, rapier-like, made more for thrusting jabs than for striking. If one were to fight me, she'd try to prevent my sword from hitting hers at all. They most often kill with a blow to the back."

  "That doesn't seem very sporting." It went against everything she'd been taught—or, at least, that she'd learned from westerns and movies with galactic honor systems.

  "Sword fighting in the Lore isn't sporting. It's about keeping your head on your shoulders. Okay, now chest up." He placed his palm on her shoulder and pulled back. "Raise the sword in front of your nose and let the tip drop to about forty-five degrees from your face. This is called the middle position. From here you can block blows from the right or
the left. Now let's modify this a little." He maneuvered her body so that she was standing with her shoulder in front.

  He kept touching her, but she couldn't pinpoint an instance where it was unwarranted.

  "If you turn to the side like this, it reduces the visible area of your body, making you a smaller target."

  "Are you going to use your stolen broom handle, or not?"

  He raised his brows. "You think you're ready to cross swords? Very well."

  When he released her to collect the stick, she nearly swayed and was glad he didn't see.

  Facing her again, he said, "I'm going to strike, and I want you to block." Raising the stick, he knocked it against the sword, and they began to spar.

  As they circled each other, he continued his instruction. "Never hesitate. Never appear nervous. Elbows at your side. Keep compact."

  His hits were slow enough that she could block them each time. "Avoid multiple combatants. Like in hand-to-hand, don't be ashamed to run if you're outnumbered."

  As they increased in speed, adrenaline began to pump through her.

  "Throughout history most sword fights have been decided with the first blow. Not like on TV. Every movement counts."

  He was striking faster and faster, but she was still able to parry.

  "No, no, no, you could have evaded that strike," he said, just when she'd thought she'd given a particularly good block. "Never block when you can evade. And remember, your surroundings are key. Always keep them in mind. Anything can be a weapon." He tossed a pillow at her, and she sliced it cleanly in two! Tufts of filler floated in the air—

  He smacked her bottom hard with his stick. Which infuriated her.

  "Don't like gettin' spanked? Then keep your eyes on your opponent."

  Aggression flared, and she struck out with a yell. He shot out of the way, and the sword cleaved through the bed side table and phone.

  Holly's eyes went wide. "Cadeon! I could have killed you! I'm sorry!" When he shrugged, she said, "You don't think this is noteworthy?"

  "No. Slaying furniture is fun. I'm more concerned about the fact that we're sparring, and you're stopping to apologize. Where's the heart of the killer? Where's your merciless side? You're acting like a skirt."

  "A…skirt?" she said in an incredulous tone.

  "Hey, here's an idea. If you can draw blood before my premium pay-per-view show comes on in ten minutes, then I'll get you your pills."

  She gave him a look that said it's on, then launched an attack. He deflected her next blow, but realized that she'd held back so she could strike a second time even faster. Quick little female. He barely got out of the way, letting a lamp die for him.

  She's going to be one of the greats, he thought, but he said, "Is this all you've got?"

  Lips thinned, she slashed diagonally upward with stunning speed; he had to block with his stick—she sliced the end off.

  "Oh, dear, did I cut off the tip of your gladius?"

  Cade winced. She was literally out for blood and was growing increasingly enraged. Again and again, they circled, with her striking and him dodging. Finally, he could say, "Your ten minutes are up, halfling. You lose—"

  Her sword whistled down, missing his shoulder by millimeters. "Holly, back the hell down. We're done."

  Eyes glowing silver, she said, "I'm just getting started."

  He realized that if he couldn't hurt her, he'd have to fight dirty. When she charged once more, he spun around to get behind her. He lightly kicked the back of her knee, sending her off balance.

  "Ooh!" Even as she staggered she swung a roundhouse slash. A picture on the wall fell victim.

  "Now, are you done—"

  Banging on the door sounded. A deep voice outside said, "Open up, this is the police."

  Her face went white, her jaw slackening. The sword dipped in her limp hand. "Oh, my God!" she whispered. "What are we going to do?"

  Cade himself was about to have a ball with this. "Duuude," he murmured. "You are going-to-jail."

  24

  "W hat do you mean?" she cried.

  "Jail, the big house, the two-legged zoo—"

  "I know that! But why am I going there?"

  Cade answered, "Your eyes are silver. And that demon brew gels in your blood for days. As soon as the cops break down the door, and see you amidst this destruction, you're off to roll call, baby."

  "Oh, God, oh, God! I've never even had a speeding ticket!" Biting her claws, she said, "This is all your fault! You started it!" Her panicked gaze darted around the room. "Quick! Help me clean up—"

  More banging.

  "No time, Holly. But you know, I could probably fix this."

  "How?"

  "You let me worry about that."

  He'd lived nine hundred years—surely he'd learned what to do in situations like this. Yes, Cadeon will take care of this. She gave him a grateful look.

  "But you have to do something for me as well."

  Her face fell. "It figures that you'd put a condition on this. What do you want?"

  "You have to watch TV with me, a movie of my choice."

  Where was the harm in that? She loved…"Oh! You mean one of those movies!" He'd told her he would get her to watch one before the trip was over. "Never, Cadeon. Not in a million years."

  "Even when I can make this all go away?"

  From outside, the policeman said, "Open up! We've been getting noise complaints."

  "Oh, God!" she whispered. "One scene. I'll watch just one scene. If you can take care of this."

  "Deal." He turned for his room, collecting his hat and an envelope from his duffle bag. At the doorway between their rooms, he said, "Try not to break the law again before I get back," then shut the door.

  When she heard him exiting from his front door, she realized he was going to act as if he were merely a neighbor. Clever demon…

  But what if something went wrong? What if they still demanded to see the room? She surveyed the debris in abject fear.

  How can I get rid of the evidence?

  Hitting on an idea, she began dismantling the remains of the table, breaking off legs and stuffing the pieces under the bed. Broken lamps and sliced pillows joined the collection.

  Thirty nerve-shattering minutes passed before Cadeon returned. "What happened? Tell me!"

  "Everything's taken care of."

  She frowned. "You smell like beer."

  He rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah, Holly, like me and the cop were downing a beer together."

  Of course, he and the cop had completely been downing a beer together.

  They'd sat in a booth in the motel's lounge as Cade spun tales that the man didn't hear because he was too busy staring at the stack of cash Cade offered him. The small town cop seemed an honest enough guy, but he had five kids and Christmas was coming. What was he supposed to do?

  "No one's going to want to come in?" Holly asked.

  He shook his head. "Not unless you start back up again. The room looks great, by the way." It was cleaner than when they'd first come—except now it had less furniture. "So, I did my part, Holls. Looks like it's showtime."

  "I can't believe you are going to make me watch something I'm opposed to."

  "You put it down, but you've never viewed it? The bra-burner's a tad hypocritical, no?"

  "Though I've not yet tried drinking acid, I still put it down. And don't call me a bra-burner! There's no need to make fun of my feminism."

  "First of all, I'm not making fun—I'm poking fun. And second of all, I'm doing it to your face."

  "What does that mean?"

  "If we bandy the subject, at least you know where I stand and you get a chance to persuade me to your way of thinking. Can you say the same about the other men in your life? The yes men?"

  She narrowed her eyes. "Meaning Tim."

  "He's not as perfect as you like to think." Naturally, Cade despised him with a deep and virulent hatred. But Cade had also gotten the feeling that Tim wasn't the lapdog he appeared to be.r />
  "No, maybe he's not perfect," she said. "But I bet he doesn't consider women to be tarts, who should be in a man's bed twenty-four hours a day."

  "I was jesting about that. Mainly. Almost totally."

  She glared.

  "For the record, male Lorekind have higher opinions of females than human males do. The playing field's more equal in our world."

  "Ha! I find it hard to believe that men who've lived for centuries—and might even be medieval—believe in equality more than a human male raised in the Madonna era."

  "The Lore is home of the Valkyrie, Furiae, Witches, and Sirenae. You underestimate females, and you find your balls nailed to the wall."

  As she digested that information, he said, "You're not going to distract me from this. We had a deal."

  "Made under duress. Did you ever think that I might be morally opposed to watching pornography?"

  He snorted. "You're not the good girl you used to be. You get drunk and carouse with demons, sitting on their laps and giving them horn jobs in front of an audience. You went rock star on this poor mom-and-pop motel room. And just last night, you got me to show you my goods, though I was vulnerable and weak from a bullet wound." He shook his head sadly. "Face it, Holly, you're a bad girl."

  Her lips parted. Though his version of events was utterly skewed, the fact remained that all that had taken place to some degree.

  He patted the bed so arrogantly. "I believe we had a date. Come on, this is just porn lite. If it costs six-ninety-nine, it's lite. Ah, the things I could teach you, halfling."

  She gritted her teeth and sat on the bed as far away from him as possible. With her hands in her lap, she said, "Fine. I owe you one scene…."

  It started innocently enough. An attractive couple began undressing each other while kissing. I can handle this.

  But her face flamed when they were naked and stroking each other between the legs. Her brows drew together at how hard they touched. Surely that would have to be painful….

  By the time the man entered the woman, Holly's mouth was dry, her claws were curled, and she couldn't seem to get enough air.

  Her scrambled brain was screaming Turn away! Turn away now! Just when she forced herself to close her eyes, the demon said, "Ah-ah, Holly."