Blackstorm (Nightwraith Book 2)

by Gaja J. Kos

  Affection for a demon lord.

  But not even that was enough to keep the words from leaving my lips. “What’s that?”

  The very air in the room seemed to go still yet electric at the same time, his breaths and my own heartbeat the only thing that existed in the dark.

  I didn’t move. I didn’t as much as shift, only bathed in the heat coming from his body before I was stunned into silence by the words that unraveled that final thread still keeping my shields together.

  “Family,” he whispered, and something inside me shattered at the gentleness of the word. “I want to have a family.”

  Chapter 19

  Somehow, I managed to sleep.

  I couldn’t tell if my body simply gave up, tired of the thunderstorm that were my thoughts, or if it was the calmness of Alin’s breaths echoing through the room that gracefully lulled me into slumber. Either way, awareness slipped from my fingers, and when I woke up, I found myself wrapped in his embrace.

  For a moment I stilled, unsure how I ended up with my head in the nook between his shoulder and neck. The heat of his body pressed against my front and thigh where I had draped it over his legs, just above the knee. But as his fingers trailed down my arm, gentle and loving, the tension fled from my muscles. My hand still resting on his chest, I peered up at the green-eyed demon, his russet hair gleaming in the soft light coming from the bedside lamp he’d turned on.

  “Morning, beautiful,” he whispered, and the words rumbled in his chest, sending small vibrations up the palm of my hand.

  I smiled. “Good morning.”

  Warmth touched the corners of his eyes the moment before he leaned over and brushed his lips against mine. Once. Twice. Then the fleeting caress turned into a kiss, a demand that swept away all sense and reason, enveloping me in his strength, power, and a hunger that was barely leashed. A hunger I didn’t want him to leash.

  His hand traveled down my arm, my waist, briefly halting at the hem of my panties, then continued down the leg I still had draped over his. I lifted it higher, molding my body against the honed expanse of his, marveling at how good it felt to be this close. We fitted together perfectly, and with the way we were entwined, there was nothing keeping me from feeling the sensual weight of his arousal, the velvet skin dancing against mine. My cheeks burned, a pleasurable tightness growing in the vee of my thighs, especially as Alin’s fingers went up again, edging ever closer to my sensitive, lust-swollen folds.

  Involuntarily, I arched my back, rubbing my center and the peaks of my breasts gently against all that corded muscle that was his body. The cotton of my T-shirt played with the aching buds, the friction along with the warmth I felt from him filling me with insatiable desire. With a surge of energy that saturated the room, he shifted us both, his powerful form now lying on top of me, only the barest sliver of space left between the press of our flesh. A single finger—a single finger brushed against the fabric of my panties and teased me more than I’d ever been teased in my life. I moaned into his kiss, the sound drowned out by the groan spilling from his lips as he felt my need through the thin slip of fabric.

  He pulled back then, eyes alight with emerald fire and a masculine, satisfied smile dancing on his lips.

  Gods, he was stunning.

  Those handsome features realigned into a display that was still power, still strength and ruthlessness, and yet not, struck me as that much clearer. Purer. I was gazing at him without the veils of shadows he had wrapped around himself, seeing him as the being of light and dark that he was. Breathtaking.

  I wanted to drown in that male, smug satisfaction. Wanted to see it grow, make it even more vivid and intense.

  But Alin, it seemed, had other ideas.

  His gaze raked down my body once more, taking in the flimsy slip of my panties and the T-shirt that rode up my stomach, exposing my abdomen. He growled—a sound that just might have been a curse, although a light one—then pushed off me, tension riding the hard muscles of his shoulders as he abruptly turned away.

  What he did next, however, knocked the wind from my lungs.

  Because it wasn’t anger or frustration that filled the chamber as I half expected it would, but a laugh. A sincere, roaring laugh that ricocheted off the walls and covered me in thousands of phantom caresses.

  “What?” I asked, my own lips quirking up.

  He turned to look at me, the amusement, or perhaps well-meaning disbelief making his features even more handsome. If that were even possible.

  “You truly are a witch, Lana, making a man forget about everything except his desire to spend time with you.”

  I bit my lip and ruffled my hand through the unruly mass that was my electric blue hair. “Sorry?”

  “I’m the one that’s sorry, trust me. Sorry that I can’t give in to the spell.” His shoulders shook with silent laugher.

  Slowly, he crawled back across the bed to where I was sitting, black sheets pooling around my waist and contrasting with the paleness of my skin. He kissed me lightly then pulled away, but his body spoke of how much it cost him.

  “There’s nothing more I’d rather spend the morning doing than making love to you. Tasting you, hearing my name on your lips as I take you like I wanted to from the moment you appeared in my lair.” He sighed. “But I promised you my protection, and I can’t do that without hunting down the murderous bastard first.”

  Although the fire in his eyes didn’t die down, there was a hint of danger lining the emerald color. As well as determination. He wouldn’t stop until Alexander lay dead before his feet.

  “I need to speak with my men, try to pin the bastard down now that he knows he isn’t quite so invincible.”

  In a flash of memory, I remembered the way my dagger sliced through the shimmering layer of magical protection. Remembered that brief, yet unmistakable flicker of surprise that crossed Alexander’s face. He believed he was safe, believed no one could get close to him. Until I shattered that illusion.

  Judging by the hard set of Alin’s jaw, the sharp, chiseled line I traced with my fingers, my demon lord was more than ready to continue—and finish—what I’d started.

  Regret filled my chest, but I nodded nonetheless. I didn’t like the thought of Alin going out there alone, but I didn’t want to push it either. So instead, I simply asked, “What do you want me to do?”

  He hooked a wayward strand of blue hair behind my ear, then traced his finger across my cheek, coming all the way down my lips.

  “I want you to go to the bar.” The warmth of his touch continued down my neck, then skimmed the line of my collarbone. “I have men on watch twenty-four seven. Improve the wards, if you can, and wait it out. If Ilya managed to track down the lead he mentioned yesterday, all of this should be over by tomorrow.”

  “And then?”

  Alin didn’t reply. He simply leaned over, slanting his mouth over mine.

  And it was answer enough.

  Dressed in jeans and a simple tank top one of Alin’s men must have picked up from my apartment at some point, I walked out the front door of the lair—actually led out this time, not sneaking off on my own. I said goodbye to the slender demon—much to my surprise, I received a warm farewell in return—then took particle form to soar over Maribor. Given how early it was, I took some time for myself and cruised the streets, doing nothing but simply drinking in the pulse of ordinary life.

  Blue skies were always a guarantee for having people out and about, and it was nice to just observe them for a while—their tanned faces and easygoing attitude as they sat in coffee shops or strolled down by the river, the smiles on their faces as they met on the benches scattered across town. The sight of them made me remember that not all was dark in the world, and it was a sensation that grew ever stronger with the light fluttering that sprang to life inside me each time Alin drifted into my thoughts.

  I leaned on a breeze that swept in from the south, savoring its warm touch as it enveloped my particles. And, perhaps for the first time since a
ll of this started, I actually felt hope.

  I circled around Martin’s place, noting the men Alin had stationed around his building. They were carefully concealed, but when you were in particle form and able to squeeze into every nook and cranny, spotting things wasn’t that hard of a task. I floated up then, making my way past Martin’s window just to double-check that he was all right. A smile touched my nonexistent lips.

  True to himself, Mart was lounging in his living room, a book in his hands and a cup of coffee steaming on the table.

  Satisfied, I made a mental reminder—one I promised myself I wouldn’t forget—to drop him a note about how things were going, then pedaled down the street and towards my next stop.

  The Night Hag was quiet, its now dormant exterior much like any nighttime bar during the daylight hours. Ordinary.

  And yet to me, she was anything but.

  I loved the place with all my heart, and, for once, not even the presence of Alin’s gang seemed that much of a taint. Like with Martin’s apartment, I scouted the vicinity first, marking where each man stood, before I materialized within the perimeter. I waved to a powerfully built werewolf—the only one of Alin’s men standing in plain sight—and walked up to the back door, then stopped.

  The ward was down.

  For a moment, I just stared at the void where my magic should have been, but the unease subsided quickly. With all that had happened, I’d forgotten that I hadn’t even set foot inside since that day when we’d been ambushed by the group of rival thugs.

  Briefly, I considered putting the ward back in place, but as much as it bothered me to leave the bar magically unprotected, I didn’t want to hinder the gang’s ability to move in and out without having to drag me here. I needed to ask Alin the first chance I got if he could line up all the men he intended to frequent The Night Hag so I could weave them as exceptions into the ward. However, until that was done, the barrier would have to stay dispelled.

  Darkness greeted me once I opened the door, and I flicked on the lights, sending out tendrils of power at the same time to search for any threats.

  Nothing.

  My shoulders dropped, free of the tension I hadn’t even known had clutched them. I walked down the hallway, wanting to stop by my office first. While I didn’t doubt that Alin’s men had cleaned up every last trace of the fight in the main section of the bar, my memories of that night were still far too vivid to back them with a visual.

  I shuddered and instinctively extended a metaphysical hand towards the chamber containing the zombies only to find it empty. Right. They had all been destroyed in the fight.

  Guilt raked my insides with a vicious agenda, but I pushed it down. I was past that. Or at least I wanted to be.

  I’d done what I did to survive. And needed to be willing to do what it took in the future, as well.

  So instead of moping over the loss, I lifted my chin up, determined to go through the files of my zombie applicants. It wasn’t a staggering collection by far, but those—unsurprisingly absent—protestors would still be shocked by just how many individuals were willing to have their reanimated flesh walk the earth.

  I flicked on the lights in the office, my gaze scanning the small, yet comfortable room, noting that all was precisely as I left it.

  All but one thing.

  My heart beating somewhat faster, I skirted around the desk to the small closet set by the far wall. An elegant black dress was suspended from the hanger, a note pierced on the steel hook. I swallowed and tore off the piece of paper with sweaty hands.

  Alexander.

  Alexander had been here.

  And if I didn’t do as the bastard asked, Alin would pay for my insubordination.

  Chapter 20

  My hands were still trembling as I kicked off my sneakers, then stripped from my jeans and tank top and slipped into the little black dress. Nausea rolled through me at the thought that I was wearing something of Alexander’s choosing—at the thought of just how well he’d managed to pick out something that clung to my form as if it were made for me.

  Fuck.

  The bastard was even considerate enough to provide matching black pumps.

  Sick. It was sick. But as much as I hated it, I couldn’t back away.

  Because what lay glued to the other side of the note was far more terrifying than feeling like Alexander’s possession.

  A lock of Alin’s hair.

  Alexander wasn’t holding him captive, but he didn’t need to. Not when this was far, far worse.

  The herbs I felt as my power brushed against the lock, that touch of darkness and blood—it didn’t matter where or how well guarded Alin was. That single lock of hair combined with the traces of black magic I’d believed lost to the world meant the bastard could rip out Alin’s soul.

  He could take it, store it—prevent it from crossing over, eternally bound to this realm where spirits had no place to exist.

  I exhaled. I only had half an hour to get across town and meet Alexander before he started acting on his threats.

  I had the feeling he wouldn’t look kindly on me being late because I had an emotional breakdown, so I wiped away the few rogue tears that managed to slip my control and checked to see if the dagger tucked in my inner thigh sheath was showing. It didn’t, though if I weren’t careful, I could just as easily give myself away if I didn’t mind the way I walked. The damned thing chafed.

  Still, it was better than going there unarmed.

  Pressed for time, I called to my particle form and eased out of the cracked office window. I still hadn’t figured out whether—or more likely which of—Alin’s men could sense my presence when I was in my alternate form. The were out back hadn’t as much as flinched when I materialized earlier, so he either didn’t spook easily, or was susceptible enough to sense my atoms. It wasn’t a risk I was willing to take, so I kept as far away from him as I could, taking to the skies the instant I squeezed out the window.

  I rushed across Maribor, pushing myself to reach the restaurant in time to do a sweep around the premises before I had to reveal myself to the bastard. I didn’t think Alexander would try anything serious in a place as upscale and popular as Zen, but I wasn’t about to bet my life on some half-assed moral code the scum likely didn’t even share.

  Fighting off the urge to hurry, I checked the outer perimeter first, then, when nothing popped out, swooped in to do the same with the building harboring the restaurant. Again, there was nothing that spoke of any ill intent.

  Nothing save for the necromancer himself, sitting at a candle-lit table. This time, the bastard was dressed in a slick designer suit rather than the cloak I’d first seen him in. While a part of me was relieved there was no ulterior motive in sight, the other, more intuitive one, kept whispering that this was even worse.

  With good reason.

  The note said Alexander wanted to have dinner. And something about that terrified me far more than his homicidal desire to have my head on a pike.

  I doubled back, then floated into the bathroom where I regained my human shape. After a few very unsteady breaths and a brief moment when I thought I would have to dart into the stall and throw up, I walked onto the main restaurant floor.

  Everything here was in cold, dark shades, the abundance of wood and leather combined with dim lights giving Zen that elegant edge it prided itself on. My heels clicked against the hardwood floor, and far too soon, I found myself staring at a pair of pale blue eyes.

  Alexander rose up to greet me, moving around the table in two graceful strides to pull out my chair. Reluctantly, I obliged, my whole body going tense for that second my back was left unprotected. But he simply returned to his seat once I was tucked behind the table, no foul done. The sense of wrongness within me only grew.

  “Thank you for joining me,” he said after a moment, hands clasped on the edge of the table and gaze firmly on mine.

  I wanted to hiss that it wasn’t like I had much of a choice, but settled for silence instead. While I di
dn’t want to antagonize him, I certainly didn’t have to play the role of an obedient pup, either.

  A knowing smile danced in the corner of his lips, and he lifted his hand to call the waiter. He ordered wine for us both, the patriarchic pig, but at least gave me the courtesy of ordering my own meal.

  He didn’t speak as we waited for our wine, but as soon as the bottle of Riesling arrived—so not my favorite—the show continued in all its bizarre, bone-chilling glory.

  “I apologize,” he said, “for the force I used against you yesterday.”

  Gods, was it only yesterday?

  “I had known you only by name, Lana, not for the remarkable individual you are. It is a mistake I regret, but hopefully one that can yet be amended.”

  Like it or not, I took a sip of the Riesling to clear the confusion from my head. What the fuck was he rambling on about?

  “Amended?” I asked, hoping to the gods my disbelief wasn’t too obvious.

  “Yes, amended. You are far too unique to be killed, Lana Ambrose.” He shook his head, a sigh uncurling from his nose. “I admire your power”—his gaze travelled across my face, my body, then back to my eyes once more—“and I admire your beauty.”

  Oh, gods, I was going to throw up. I could smell the appetizers the waiter was bringing our way, and my stomach wasn’t thrilled at all. The single good thing was that Alexander fell silent while the young man deposited the plates on our table.

  Sadly, he also walked away far too fast for my liking.

  I swallowed bile and forced myself to eat a small slice of basil-sprinkled mozzarella, wondering why the sudden change of heart. Naturally, Alexander answered before I even had the chance to ask.

  “I want you to join me, Lana.”

  It took every ounce of my will not to choke on the damned mozzarella. “What?”

  “Think of what we could achieve together. There is no necromancer more powerful than us.”

  Though it was useful to know he saw me as his equal in strength, I was too stunned to even process that fully. “So?”