From Jennifer Ashley, With Love

by Jennifer Ashley

  Amber raised her head and looked at him. He knew she was offering comfort and compassion, but her tawny eyes held depths of promise, a sensual woman who didn’t realize how sensual she was. When he kissed her, she didn’t resist, and she didn’t resist when he pushed her down onto the bed and stretched out on top of her.

  Amber tasted as sweet as she smelled. He nuzzled her throat, and she slid her fingers to the back of his jeans and dipped her hand under the waistband.

  “I knew it,” she whispered. “I knew you weren’t wearing underwear.”

  Her smile did things to him—from warming his icy, lonely heart to warming other parts of his anatomy. His hard-on rose as her fingers explored the bare skin of his backside and the hollow between his buttocks. He found himself wanting her with a basic intensity, and he hoped to Isis that finding her wasn’t a trick of the demon’s.

  But she felt real, not like a demon manifestation. There was nothing in Amber’s eyes and in her mind but herself, and nothing evil in this house but what her sister had been dabbling in. Amber’s room felt only of her clean magic, of the devotions she said every morning to the Goddess and the God, and with layers of magic that had overlapped each other as she grew.

  Amber’s fingers worked magic of their own. His skin heated. He needed her. “If you don’t stop that . . .”

  She looked up at him, eyes bright. “What? I’ll regret it?”

  “I hope so,” he growled.

  She removed her hand from inside his pants and teased fingers over his back, tracing the scars. She understood what his scars meant. Most women closed their eyes tight after they saw his back or were so busy squealing under him that they never noticed. Amber noticed, knew his scars were part of him, and wasn’t afraid of them.

  He nipped her neck, breathing her spice. The sensation caused her to wriggle, her body moving in a good way under the loose nightshirt, soft curve of breasts rubbing his chest.

  “You told me you weren’t a vampire,” she admonished.

  “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to taste you.”

  To his surprise, she licked his neck. “You taste good too.”

  His heart beat faster, the warmth of her chasing away the dire cold. He parted the placket of her nightshirt, feathering small kisses over the hollow of her throat. Her scent and warmth enticed him to slide a hand inside the nightshirt and cup her breast. Her nipple rose, warm and taut, to meet his palm.

  She moved her hand to the front of his waistband, popping the button. He shifted so she could explore, and stifled a groan when her cool hand found the hard shaft pressing against his zipper.

  Her eyes widened behind thick lashes. “Goddess. What are you, size twenty?”

  He gave her a puzzled look. “There are sizes?”

  “I’ve heard it corresponds to shoe size.”

  He wanted to laugh. Adrian still had tears in his eyes, still felt the anguish of Tain begging for help, and she made him want to laugh.

  Amber slid awkward fingers into the tight place between his cock and abdomen. She found niches and stroked them, wicked sensations tingling from her fingers to heat his blood. When he took her it would be satisfying, deeply satisfying, and he wouldn’t stop after just once.

  Adrian unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, widening his legs so she could reach more of him. Her breasts lay open to the light, lovely and apple firm, beckoning his mouth.

  As much as he wanted her to play with him, he wanted to explore her too. Adrian propped himself on his elbow, and while she continued to stroke him, he brushed his tongue around her areola, suckling it to make it dark and tight.

  His temperature rose as her fingers continued dancing. He balled his hand in the bedcovers as she found a bead of moisture in his slit and smoothed it across his tip. He was going to climax from her touching him. Ferrin would laugh. Adrian, the mighty warrior. Always in perfect control.

  Amber smiled up at him, eyes languid. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

  “Hey, I always like sticking a sword through a demon.”

  “I’m sorry he got away.”

  “I’ll find him,” he promised. “And make him answer questions. And then make him pay. Slowly.” He groaned as Amber’s hand clamped down on his cock.

  “I’d like him to answer one question,” she said in a hard voice.

  Adrian eased her fingers open a little. “Remind me not to piss you off. You have a dangerous grip.”

  “Sorry.” She gentled her touch. “Tell me something. If you were born in the time of the first Egyptian dynasties, why do you speak modern English slang?”

  “Because you wouldn’t understand me if I spoke ancient Egyptian,” he said. “Phrases haven’t changed much in six thousand years. We fall back on the very basics when it’s most important.”

  “Are things important now?”

  “Meeting you is one of the most important things that’s happened in a long, long time. I don’t know exactly why it will be important, but it is.”

  Her brown-gold gaze studied him as though she wanted to penetrate his defenses and see all the way inside him. He couldn’t let her, not yet. What he was could hurt her, which was the last thing he wanted to do.

  Amber’s eyes drifted closed. She continued to skim her fingers over his cock, and Adrian lay back and let himself enjoy her touch.

  The urge to climax eased, but the excitement didn’t cease. He moved his hips, letting himself slide satisfyingly through her grip. She made a little noise of satisfaction, as though what they did made her feel good too.

  He wanted to take her. He saw no reason not to—they were alone on her bed, no one to answer to, nowhere to go. He could satisfy himself deep within her, and bring her to climax again and again, letting his sorrow fade away in the sultry night.

  She looked straight at him, and he knew she wanted it, too. The tingling excitement of strangers choosing to have sex went through him—except he felt somehow he’d known her always.

  Ferrin, on his arm, morphed to his snake form and slithered across the bed. He touched Amber on his way, and she jerked, losing her hold on Adrian. “I wish he wouldn’t do that.”

  Ferrin swayed, his black eyes fixed on the window. By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.

  “You don’t have thumbs,” Adrian said, but he rolled away from Amber and zipped up his jeans. Amber pulled her nightshirt closed, as watchful as Adrian.

  “It might be Sabina,” she suggested. “She said she’d be prowling.”

  “No.” Adrian felt the surge of death magic, the sudden draining of light, hope, and anything worth living for. “It’s not a werewolf.”

  Ferrin hissed again, his body as rigid as it could get. Demon, he announced, and then all hell broke loose.

  Wind exploded through the bedroom, strong as a tornado, picking up books, trinkets, papers, candles, and ornaments and hurling them through the air. The bed shook and started to rise, the furniture coming loose from the floor. A blackness rose with the wind, twining through the debris as though it wove a net to tangle them.

  Adrian grabbed Amber and rolled with her to the floor behind the bed, protecting her with his body and hoping the bed didn’t leap up and land on top of them. Ferrin slithered past him, the snake’s body cool and rigid.

  A chair smashed into the wall, raining splinters onto Adrian’s bare back, stinging flesh. Amber huddled under him, but she wasn’t crying or fearful—her golden-brown eyes snapped in rage. “This house is warded. How can death magic get in?”

  “He rode the vision back with us. I brought him in.” Adrian ducked to shield her as a shelf-load of books sailed over and fell on top of him.

  “But even going between, the wards should hold against death magic,” Amber shouted over the noise.

  “Not after your sister let some in.”

  The whirlwind picked up crystals and smashed them against the mirror above her dresser. Shards of glass slashed around the room, as deadly as bullets, cutting his skin. One splint
er got past him, and blood blossomed on Amber’s cheek.

  Adrian’s rage flared. He flung himself to his feet, dodging the lamp that came flying at him at a hundred miles an hour. Ferrin zipped under the bed. Coward.

  Adrian spread his arms and bellowed an ancient word of command, his voice ringing over the commotion and the howling of the unnatural wind. The sound roared out of his mouth, a word of power he rarely used, one from the dawn of time, one that hadn’t been heard in the world in thousands of years. It was dangerous, telling the unseen things of the world exactly what Adrian was and where he was, but he was too angry to care.

  The wind abruptly ceased. Amber’s books, papers, and crystals hung in midair for a moment, then dashed to the floor. Glass shattered, paper fluttered, and then everything went silent.

  Amber put pale hands on the side of the bed and pulled herself up to look over the mattress. “Is it over?”

  “For now. You can come out, Ferrin.”

  The snake poked his head out from under the bed. His tongue flicked as he tested the air, then he slid quickly up the bedpost and hid under a pillow.

  “Pack up some clothes,” Adrian said. “And as much of Susan’s notes as you can.”

  Amber’s gaze turned to dismay as she surveyed the complete mess of her bedroom. “What for?”

  “We can’t stay here. The demon coasted in on our vision, and he’ll find a way to coast in again. We need to get whatever Susan found away from here.”

  “But you stopped the attack.”

  “I slowed him down a little.” He took Amber’s hands and pulled her up. “This is no ordinary demon. He’s something ancient, an Old One, which means a demon from before my time. I and my brothers were created to stand against such demons, and we did, but it took our combined power to do so. I hadn’t thought demons of that caliber still existed.”

  “A demon worse than your garden-variety demon?” Amber asked, eyes widening. “Terrific.”

  “He killed your sister, and he’s after something—her knowledge of Tain, maybe. So we need to find Tain before he does.”

  Her brows drew together. “Why would an ancient demon be interested in your brother?”

  “I have no idea. If I can decipher the writing, maybe I can find out.”

  Amber took his hand. Her fingers were warm against his—she was always warm. “What I mean is, why is he looking for your brother when you are right here in front of him? Whatever he wants an Immortal for, why not take you?”

  Adrian shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m pretty powerful, and not easy to take. Tain has been missing for seven hundred years. If a demon is suddenly interested in him, I want to know why.”

  “I can’t just leave, Adrian. I have clients. I have students to teach how not to blow themselves up doing candle spells.”

  “They’ll be safer without you near them, believe me.”

  His warrior’s body hummed with the need to act, not argue. He’d been pent up, ready to climax under her erotic touch then forced a huge amount of magic through himself to close the gap against the demon. He wanted to rush Amber to safety, then turn and fight, which was what he was made to do. Well-reasoned debates weren’t his style.

  “Where can we possible stay?” Amber asked. “This house has been warded for a century and a half. And if the demon can get in here, where are we safe?”

  “My house.”

  “Your house? Don’t you live in Los Angeles?”

  “Yes. You don’t need to pack much. We can buy you what you need when you get there.”

  Amber looked at the mess again, breathing hard. The perspiration on her skin reminded Adrian how delectable she’d tasted. His adrenaline and his need for her crashed together into a maelstrom inside him.

  “What about my house?” Amber asked. “What will keep the demon from totally trashing the place?”

  “He’ll be following us, so he’ll leave it alone.”

  Amber let out a short laugh. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

  “The safest place you can be is with me.” Adrian crossed the room, pulled a suitcase out of the closet, and tossed it onto the bed. “Start packing, or I’ll do it, and you know I’ll pick the wrong things. After forty-five hundred years observing humans, I still don’t know what clothes females consider important.”

  Amber looked as though she wanted to argue some more, but she finally turned to the dresser, which the wind had shoved sideways, and opened a drawer. “Last minute plane tickets will cost a fortune. Unless you have a private jet standing by?”

  “We won’t fly.” He pushed aside the enticing thought of snuggling with her in the back seat of a plane, kissing her as he pressed her against a bulkhead. “Being on a plane with a powerful demon chasing me isn’t a scenario I want, plus we’d bring danger to the other passengers and the pilots. He could use their lives as blackmail.”

  “I notice you feel free to put me in danger,” Amber said as she stuffed handfuls off lingerie into her bag.

  “You are already in danger, and I’m not letting you out of my protection. We’ll take your car.”

  “How will that be safe?”

  “It’s as safe as anything. You ward your car, don’t you?”

  “Of course, but it’s what, a twenty-hour drive to Los Angeles?”

  He lifted the notebooks he’d dragged to the floor with them and tossed them into her suitcase on top of her underwear—her lacy bikini underwear. “I think so. But that’s all right, I can drive and you can sleep. Bring some music if you want. I like Stevie Ray Vaughan.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later, they were speeding south through Seattle and Tacoma toward Oregon and California beyond. Amber glanced at Adrian who sat calmly behind the wheel of her car, dark eyes flickering as he watched passing traffic, strong fingers steering with a bare touch.

  Eighteen hours, give or take, down the I-5 to Adrian’s house, with a demon chasing them all the way, and he drove like nothing was wrong. She felt herself inexorably pulled into something bigger than she was, bigger even than Susan’s murder. And now Adrian, the being dragging her firmly into the mire, was the only one who could protect her.

  City lights glared on the windshield as they rolled through town, barely any traffic this late to slow them down. The wind was cool, and Amber was glad of the windbreaker she’d snatched up. Fog floated in patches from Puget Sound, wisps across the headlights like broken ghosts.

  Adrian leaned back in the seat, one arm resting on the wheel, as though he enjoyed driving. His square face and sinful eyes made him look like a hero out of a romance novel, but experience had imprinted him, sharpening his edges. He’d seen much, he’d fought much, and he was no pretty-boy.

  He wore his black leather coat over his still-stained T-shirt, and the coat’s fabric gaped where the demon had pummeled him with the iron bar. Amber traced the gash across his shoulders as he steered the car around a curve.

  “Sorry about your coat,” she said. They’d not spoken since Adrian had pulled onto the freeway that took them through the city.

  Adrian’s body rippled with a shrug. “I have others.”

  He fell silent again, eyes moving as he assessed the few cars around him.

  “How did you get rid of the demon?” she asked. “I’ve never felt power like that before. You stopped the storm cold.”

  He shrugged again. “An ancient spell. Call it the magical equivalent of tear gas.” He rubbed the sinewy hand that rested on the steering wheel as though finding it stiff from spell casting. “Hard to call up, though.”

  “Seems easy for you.”

  “Not really. My brother Hunter is better at words of power than I am. Probably because using them gives him more time to sit on his ass.”

  “He’s an Immortal too?” When Adrian nodded, she asked, “So why haven’t I ever heard of Immortals if you’ve been around so long?”

  He gave another shrug, leather creaking. “Could be a lot of reasons. Much knowledge about Immo
rtals has been lost.”

  “Enlighten me,” she said. “It’s going to be a long trip.”

  Adrian gave her a sideways look. For a few moments, she thought he wouldn’t answer her, then he settled back and let out his breath.

  “There are five of us: Kalen, Darius, Hunter, Tain, and me. We were created millennia ago to keep death-magic creatures from overrunning frail human civilization, which at the time was just getting started. You’re a witch—you know that life magic and death magic need to remain in balance or the universe whirls into chaos. Consider us Immortals the balancing act. In the beginning, demons were incredibly powerful and always ready to pull the rug out from under the world. They love chaos. And death. Vampires came along about that time. They’re no friends of demons, but they also feed on death.” Adrian grinned. “You should have seen the vampires’ faces when they encountered their first Immortal. I enjoyed myself.”

  “Like you did by the lake when you killed all those Unseelies?”

  “More. The vampires and demons I faced in the beginning thought they were invulnerable. I taught them otherwise.” He wasn’t boasting, just stating a fact.

  “Vampires and demons are still with us, if you hadn’t noticed,” Amber said. “By the score. But I’ve never heard of an Immortal.”

  Adrian moved around an eighteen-wheeler as the city began to recede. “The vampires and demons we have now are pale shadows of what they were. My brothers and I killed the worst of them thousands of years ago. The ones that exist now are strong enough to keep life and death magic in balance but not strong enough to tip the balance to their side. The Immortals haven’t been needed in a long time.”

  “Where are the rest of them? Hunter and Darius and . . . ?”

  He shook his head, the vast sadness she read in him returning. “I don’t know. Kalen has always done his own thing—he had his special people to protect. Hunter walked away about the same Tain disappeared. Darius went back to Ravenscroft. If he’s returned to the world, I haven’t heard about it. He hasn’t bothered to look me up.”