Dark Huntress (Guardians of Humanity Book 2)

by Harley James

  Damn him.

  That could not go uncontested. Did he think so little of her Guardian abilities or her mental capacity to handle the situation?

  She never would have done the same thing to him if she were in his position, would she?

  Would she?

  It was hard to know. Ari seemed so…invincible.

  She wiped her eyes on the pillow and gathered the soft blankets to her nose, allowing herself a moment to indulge in his scent—a self-injurious tradition she indulged in once a year on the anniversary of their first night together. He’d acquired the furs for her in Quebec.

  Now he knew she’d never gotten rid of the blankets. Wonderful. She blinked up at the ceiling for several more moments, resisting the answers to her questions. But when it came down to it, yes, she’d do anything in her power to protect Ari, too.

  And, no, he didn’t discount her capabilities. To believe that of him was unfair and unkind. She knew on a strictly rational level that he respected her. He was too damn honest to lie anyway.

  Why, then, was it so hard to let herself accept it? To believe she was worthy of his esteem?

  “Baggage, baggage, and more buggery baggage,” she whispered to the empty room.

  She was tired of carrying it. Unpacking it was going to prove messy and time-consuming, so for now she’d have to settle for off-loading it.

  Glancing out the windows at the ocean side of the club, everything sounded and appeared normal. No city sirens or scary fallen angels and archdemons trolling for their next soul. Instead, tourists strolled along the sunny beach snapping pictures while surfers paddled out to catch the next wave.

  It was a relief to finally know why she’d been so sick for the last few weeks. If Ari hadn’t been here, she probably wouldn’t have figured it out. Or it would have taken her a long time.

  Time she might not have had.

  She yawned and stretched, then grabbed her phone, which Ari had had enough sense to bring when he streamed them back to the club. Three p.m. Lordy. She’d slept a deep, uninterrupted sleep for hours. Incredible.

  Feeling this good, she could almost excuse his heavy-handedness.

  Almost.

  You’ll always be my true north.

  For better or worse, love and fear were the greatest motivators of all.

  One side of her lips tipped up. Wasn’t she so mature now?

  The next trick would be actually learning to like herself.

  She grimaced and strode into her closet where she stripped out of her day-old yoga pants and T-shirt and slipped into a pair of dark jeans, white blouse, and tailored, navy blazer. If she was going to die facing off with demons today, at least she’d do it looking put together.

  She rolled her shoulders as she emerged from her closet, but stopped mid-stride to the bathroom when she suddenly heard water running. Why hadn’t she heard or been aware of it before?

  She sent her senses through the woodwork. When she connected with Ari’s unique essence, a slow wave of desire rolled through her. Visions of his powerful body, warm water sluicing down his shoulders, sliding over the ridged planes of his abs, dripping off his—

  “You’re welcome to come in and touch the real thing,” his bass voice rumbled from behind the door.

  She wrinkled her nose, her face heating. You ninny. If she could feel him, of course he’d be able to sense her as well. She shivered. Do not open that door. “I have work to do, but first I need to use the facilities, so you need to scram, Grimm.”

  “Come in here. I’m not talking to you through a closed door—your head is thick enough.”

  How annoying could one man be? She barged in and stopped, heart skidding to a halt, her breath hitching in her throat.

  Her gorgeous Viking was buckass naked…

  Shaving his chest hair.

  And smiling that sexy grin that imploded her brain cells.

  He’d always been immodest. The man could walk around naked all day long and not care who saw him. And he absolutely loved to bathe. Whoever started the myth that Vikings had been unkempt had it wrong, wrong, wrong.

  Yowza. Five, ten, fifteen seconds ticked by… The longer she stood there taking in that hard, golden body, the more she could almost hear her brain cells whimper.

  He smirked like he knew—just knew—what she was thinking.

  “Permission for verbal admiration granted, North. And hey, I’m feeling generous today, so monosyllabic vowels count. Ooo and aaah are perfectly reasonable, considering your present awestruck condition.”

  Her face burned as she swiped her watch off the counter, watching his powerful forearms out of the corner of her eyes. “I couldn’t sense you in here. How did you do that?” Maybe it was a Guardian trick she hadn’t learned.

  “You needed sleep so I dropped the air density in the bathroom to prevent the sound waves from transmitting.”

  That was sweet. Truly. And the physics of his air element were fascinating. Still… “If you ever put me to sleep like that again, I will hurt you.”

  Solitary confinement would probably be the best way to torture him. Solitary confinement with no windows and no light. “Would you get some clothes on? You look ridiculous.” Ridiculously sexy. Gah! God would surely dispatch his warrior archangel to smite her for her ludicrous insult to such magnificent manflesh. Particularly if God was a woman. Or at least bisexual.

  Actually, was God pansexual? That made the most sense.

  “I’d rather be completely ridiculous than completely boring,” he drawled. “The ethereal Marilyn Monroe said that. I’m sure you’ve heard of her. Lovely individual. Raj asked me to fill in as her bodyguard for a few days when you announced to the worldwide Guardian contingent that you’d had enough of me back in the nineteen fifties, remember that? You returned my red roses. Spray-painting them black was a nice touch, by the way.”

  Katherine’s whole body tensed. Bodyguard to one of the world’s most enduring sex symbols? What was that expression her English partners, Nate and Spencer, used with such aplomb? Ah, yes…

  Bloody hell.

  She snatched a towel and threw it at him. If it was possible, he looked even sexier covered by the towel. And that bulge…

  She slapped a hand over her eyes to keep them shut, but the image of the tented towel was seared in her brain.

  Why did she even care who he thought was ethereal? She was the one who kept pushing him away. If she rejected him long enough, of course he’d seek out more hospitable women.

  And who wouldn’t be hospitable to—she parted her fingers to peer at him—that.

  Dumb, dumb, dumb. Just DUMB. She was jealous over a movie star who’d been dead for decades. Marilyn Monroe had been a sad, lonely woman, ever scorned by jealous bitches like herself. It was more a depressing commentary on herself than anything the breathy-voiced actress had ever done. “Ethereal is not a descriptor for exorcists like me, so, just…whatever. Go on and get out of here.”

  She moved toward the vanity, but he held her in place with a warm, firm grip on her upper arm. His other hand caressed her face, his eyes twinkling. “I am humbled and greatly pleased by your possessiveness.”

  “Pfft. Why would I be jealous? Remember the black roses? I swear, Ari, you don’t have a humble bone in your body.”

  “You’d never want a man whose machismo wasn’t bulletproof.” He backed her into the sink and hoisted her up onto the cool Carrera marble, his eyes suddenly somber. “I am much aggrieved for taking away your self-determination.”

  “Good. Then don’t ever do it again. I mean it, Ari. Now scram. I need to get ready so I can get back to work.”

  “Everyone is accounted for downstairs, supplies are stockpiled, repairs are underway, and the demons are obviously licking their wounds. My main concern right now is your physical and emotional well-being.” His lips traced her ear and a delicious warmth spread through her belly. “How are we doing with that self-love thing?”

  “I am doing fine. Now really,” she tried to push
him back, but he wouldn’t budge, “I must see to my staff, Ari.”

  “Are you pleased that I am now hair-free?”

  She pulled her lips to the side to forestall a smile. “I never objected to hair on your chest.” But it was quite endearing that he’d worried over her earlier comment.

  “But you said…”

  “It was an off-the-cuff example to illustrate a point. Anyway, you’re getting me off topic. Please, Ari. Seriously, I want to check on everything.”

  “Alexios brought Father Angus, as well as another Guardian-friendly priest a couple of hours ago. They’ve been knocking off possessions like special ops forces. And we now know how to clear the Nephilim taint in the Possessed, so there’s no reason why you can’t take another hour to rest. I’ll help you fix your hair.”

  He removed her blazer instead. Then his hands found the buttons on her blouse. She sat there, letting his fingers work their magic until every last button lay undone, her blouse gaping open in silent welcome. He unhooked the center clasp of her bra and slid his rough palms along her waist, his thumbs coming up to caress the undersides of her breasts. “You feel so good, North,” he breathed in her ear.

  She inhaled deeply to clear the lust haze clouding her brain. “Wait, how will you clear the Nephilim toxin from the Possessed?” A single thought flashed in her mind, and when his eyes widened, she realized she’d linked up with him. “Using my relic? No way. It would probably kill them, the same as it might kill me. We are not taking the Chains out of the reliquary. Besides, Alexios would never agree to that.”

  “Under normal circumstances, no, he wouldn’t. But these aren’t normal times, North. The two priests are doing great so far, but they can’t do all the exorcisms. There’s just too many. And relics have been used on possessed humans innumerable times with great success.”

  So she’d heard. Still, she couldn’t imagine their Guardian leader agreeing to let the Chains of St. Peter out of the special inner chamber she’d built for the holy object. “You’re sure Alexios gave his okay for this?”

  “Since when are you so concerned about following orders?”

  “I’m—” He hoisted her off the counter and peeled her jeans down her thighs. When he set her back on the marble counter top she realized her thong had somehow managed to hitch a ride with her jeans, so she was…quite exposed. “Grimm.”

  “I liked seeing you wrapped in the furs I bought you...” His hands drew up to cup her breasts.

  She cleared her throat, unable to stop her fingertips from exploring his back and obliques. “I forgot those were still in my closet.”

  “Liar.” His whisper raised gooseflesh all over her body though it was still warm and humid in the room. He ran the backs of his fingers down from her clavicle over the swell of her breasts peeking between the opening of her blouse. “But I like you better in—” She watched his eyes darken as his hands slipped her blouse and bra straps from her shoulders. “—skin.”

  Damn you, smooth seduction.

  She was an intelligent woman. She could rationalize what was happening. See it for what it was.

  She should stop it.

  Check on her people.

  See to her responsibilities.

  But…

  That one word.

  Skin.

  His called to hers. An elemental longing that reason couldn’t appease.

  She held eye contact with him as she unpinned her hair, the fall of the tresses like a cleansing rain on her soul.

  She ran unsteady fingertips from her neck to her areolas, down her belly to slip between her legs.

  Then she reached for him.

  She was going to kill him with that look in her eyes.

  He would tear apart any other man who happened to see it.

  A hundred lifetimes. A hundred lifetimes walking alone across a barren desert would be worth that look. He couldn’t suppress the low growl that rumbled up his throat as her nails scored his back. He looked down at her, the V of her parted thighs open to him, her narrow landing strip of tawny hair slightly darker than the silky strands floating around her shoulders. He hardened to the point of pain beneath the towel.

  His hands advanced from her knees up to the fleshy, delicious part of her thighs, then skated his thumbs over the plump, pink skin he ached to bury himself in. Kat moaned and leaned back against the wall-to-wall mirror, one hand over her head, her fingers clearing paths through the misty fog on the glass.

  He brought her to the brink, then eased the pressure, not ready for her erotic sighs to stop. Her eyes were pools of stormy aqua. Perfect.

  “Ari.”

  He reached behind her ass to yank her flush with his body, lifting her up and down slowly to grind against the soft, textured towel covering his erection until they were both breathless. When he pulled back to drop to his knees, she grabbed his face in her hands, keeping him on his feet. She kissed him like she’d never let go. His stomach jumped when her nimble fingers went to the towel at his waist. When the towel dropped, he sprang free and one thought…

  Mine.

  Nothing else.

  She hooked her feet against the backs of his thighs and shifted her legs wider on the counter. He watched their bodies come together. Something dark and dangerous moved through him to see his body fill hers, her lithe limbs so accepting, her darkness so hungry for his. He pulled out, pressed back in—fuck, yes, home—setting a steady rhythm that tested the limits of his control. His air element fired up, banging the Roman shades at the window in his ache to bond with her.

  “Meld with me.”

  She closed her eyes, nuzzled his neck where his pulse hammered, then not-too-gently bit the fleshy part of his ear. “Ari, I want...”

  “Want what, North? This?” He hitched her up against his hips, grasping under her thighs as he rubbed her against his pelvis and seated himself all the way. “Bond with me. Say it.”

  She moaned. He pulled out and drove back in, her breasts bouncing with the force of their lovemaking. He shook his head, sending water droplets flying until he realized she was making them bead all over the room. He felt them gather across his body—like her hands touching him everywhere. “I’m not going to last much longer if you keep that u—”

  Her orgasm rocked the room in a blast of warm water that sluiced down their bodies, ran down the mirror, and dripped from the counter. The exquisite convulsing of her body pulled him over the edge to follow that sharp blade of pleasure.

  She ducked her head to his chest, wrapping her arms around his trunk, making tenderness swell in the wake of their passion. He hoisted her into his arms and carefully made his way over the wet tiles of the floor to the shower.

  He set her on her feet, tilted her chin to look up at him, then kissed her softly. Her eyes were now a gray blue, uncertain.

  And afraid.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but his fingers pressed against her lips. “Shh. Don’t say anything now. I won’t pressure you anymore. Let me care for you a little while longer. Then we’ll go down and face the monsters.”

  Chapter 18

  Ari’s regret and ensuing apology had seemed sincere. Even more heartening, he seemed to be focusing on what she wanted, instead of what he thought she wanted. And of course, the sex was still amazing so…

  The hell with it.

  She was going to enjoy him—and work side by side with him—for whatever time he was hers. His love and support strengthened her. She’d be a fool to deny it.

  A greater fool to deny herself of it.

  And perhaps it was time to return some of that love and support. Honest emotion and a new priority would maybe dampen her father’s awful voice in her head. She didn’t want to feel guilty anymore. Wanted to move on from the blame of her sister Mary’s death. Her mother’s murder. Her father’s suicide.

  If only Ari hadn’t been called away so suddenly. He and Alexios had left Aqua a few minutes ago to assist at Spencer’s San Francisco club, where the Rephaim had somehow managed t
o blow a hole in the wall of his reliquary. Not good.

  Katherine stood before her apartment closet, staring at the designer clothes she’d accumulated from shopping trips all over the world. Her other closet at home was even more extravagant. The carefully hung, color-organized ensembles, shoes, and jewelry weren’t just a hobby she enjoyed.

  It was more pathetic than that.

  It had been a desperate attempt to replace—or at least forget about—the man she loved far more than any liberated, independent woman should. She’d been as lost as Stark in his desire to erase the pain of his past. But instead of heroin, she self-medicated with shopping. Using objects and outward trappings to prove to others how worthy she was.

  The pity was, looking the part never made her feel it inside.

  But if she was worthy of Ari’s love, maybe she was okay.

  If she only knew how long he’d be around this time…

  She frowned, hopping on one foot while she zipped up her ankle boots, and then hurried downstairs. With each step, the tenderness of her groin reminded her of Ari’s loving. Her top-of-the-line vibrator was definitely a poor substitute.

  “Your desire is desperately distracting, North. You’d better be alone and thinking about me, not eying another male.”

  She paused at the foot of the stairs so the others wouldn’t see the goofy smile on her face at her mate’s mental growl. That he could so effortlessly reach through the ether to connect with her was actually more comforting than she cared to admit. “I’m not good at reassurance, Viking. May I interest you in a sarcastic comment?” And hurry back, she added, speaking only to herself. His telepathic chuckle was like a caress. “Just be careful, okay?”

  “You, too,” he said. “I hate to be away from you, especially with Leviathan suspiciously off the radar. Be on guard for anything, and whatever you do, do not touch the relic.”

  “I’ve been fine without you for the last three years. I think I’ll survive.”

  He didn’t reply, but she could feel his unease. She sighed as she came down the newly repaired hallway, remembering the unfortunate altercation with Siolazar. She bypassed the tall potted palms to approach the wide bar where Jade was lining up new chrism oil bottles. The priests had clearly brought extra supplies with them. Thank goodness.