Fury Unleashed

by N. J. Walters

  Morrigan straightened her shoulders and walked away from the sirens and light, letting the darkness swallow her whole.

  She’d barely made it around the back of the building when the hairs on her arms stirred. The weight of the gun in her hand offered reassurance and steadied her.

  “Who the hell is there?” She wasn’t in the mood for this. Not tonight. She’d meet her target and lost him.

  Lucifer won’t be pleased.

  “Is your bounty taken care of?” Maccus slipped from the darkness like he was a part of it. She’d swear it reached out to caress his skin as he stepped forward.

  And maybe she needed a nap, some food, and a few days away from hunting.

  “Yeah, he’s taken care of.”

  Before she could blink, he was in front of her, moving faster than the eye could see. “Good,” he said.

  Then he kissed her.

  Chapter Three

  She tasted sweet, like a sugary candy he’d had once from a small shop outside of Paris. Addictive.

  He’d told her his real name.

  Why the hell had he done that? Maccus was the name he used on his human identification, which was so necessary these days. For some reason, when he’d created this particular identity, he’d used his real name. And he never told anyone his real name. Sure, Gabriel and the other angels knew it. So did Lucifer.

  Last name Fury—chosen because it suited him. For so long, his fury had been all that had kept him alive.

  Among demons, paranormals, and a select group of humans, he was known as the Hunter. A name that was feared.

  Hunter was an assassin for hire. There was a slight risk she would recognize his name, realize who he was, and run. Then he’d have to chase her. That would only waste time.

  She yanked her head back. “What the hell are you doing?” The muzzle of her gun pressed against his stomach. Would she shoot him? It was worth the risk.

  He dipped his head back down for another taste of her. Lust surged through his veins. Excitement warred with caution. He was tasting life. That’s what he was doing.

  Her weapon slid away from his midsection, and she gripped his jacket with her free hand. A groan escaped her throat.

  Touch was something he avoided at all costs. But he’d do damn near anything to stroke every inch of Morrigan, to have her hands on his body.

  She’d bewitched him with her strength and courage, her calm nature, and her long, lean body.

  Cupping the back of her head with one of his hands, he held her steady as he mapped out the shape and texture of her lips. They were soft and warm, everything it seemed the woman herself wasn’t. She was a warrior, a fighter, a survivor. She had to be in order to be one of Hell’s bounty hunters.

  That gave him pause. This wasn’t smart. And he’d stayed alive all these millennia by being intelligent.

  He started to withdraw when she flicked her tongue over his bottom lip. His balls clenched hard, and his fingers tightened around her skull, forcing him to gentle his grip. If he wasn’t careful, he’d crush her.

  When she parted her lips on a gasp, he slipped his tongue inside, tasting the sweet warmth of her mouth. She thrust her tongue against his, stroking and challenging.

  He tore his mouth from hers and stared down at her. Her eyes were closed, her face flushed, and she was panting hard. The sirens from the police and rescue vehicles were getting closer.

  “We need to leave.”

  Her eyes snapped open, and the flushed, passionate woman disappeared in a blink, replaced by the hardened bounty hunter. Which was the real woman? Neither? Both?

  She took a step back and holstered her weapon. Her lips were slightly swollen and glossy. “What was that all about? Never mind. There’s no time to get into it.” Her gaze mapped their surroundings, missing nothing. “Shit. I didn’t mean to get distracted. I can’t be here.”

  She was right about that. Even the human cops would notice the blood on her clothing, not to mention her weapons. Unlike most paranormal creatures, bounty hunters didn’t have any extra skills beyond their enhanced strength and senses and ability to heal quickly. She couldn’t fly herself away from the scene like an angel or scale a building like a vampire.

  “Come with me.” He faded into the shadows, expecting her to follow.

  When she didn’t, he turned and studied her outlined in the dim ambient lighting from a nearby streetlight.

  Even in the shadows, her red hair shone like a beacon. What was it about her that drew him? Why her? Why now?

  And why was Gabriel so keen to have her dead?

  She gave a quick glance over her shoulder. The cops were searching the area.

  “What’s it going to be?” he challenged. He could subdue her, but having her come willingly would be easier.

  Her green eyes glittered with irritation. With a sigh, she straightened her shoulders and followed. Something dark and deadly settled in him.

  There was no place in his life for a woman. Any perceived connection or weakness would be used against him by his enemies, who were legion.

  But a night or two. Maybe three. That wouldn’t attract undue attention. He could satisfy his curiosity.

  No harm. No foul.

  Maybe she won’t try to kill me.

  The dark beast that dwelled inside him rumbled in displeasure. Maccus struggled to control it. If it were ever released, there would be no stopping him until he’d laid waste to the world.

  …

  What the hell am I doing?

  Her job, for one.

  Yeah, right. She hadn’t followed Maccus because Lucifer wanted the man dead.

  I have no idea why I’m here.

  Her lips still tingled where he’d kissed her. It had been more than ten years since she’d had a sexual reaction to a man. Being dragged into Hell to train as a bounty hunter had killed her libido. And since then, the only contact she’d had with the opposite sex was either demons—no thank you—or human scum like the group she’d encountered tonight. Not exactly designed to make a girl want to rip off her panties and jump into bed.

  But Maccus knew what she was and wasn’t the least bit intimidated or bothered by it. That was a turn-on.

  But she was no closer to understanding exactly who or what he was beyond his name and the fact that he was badass.

  Her boss ordered her to sleep with him if necessary. And if sex with a stranger helped keep her alive, she’d been prepared to do it.

  Then she’d met him in person and decided it might not be such a hardship after all.

  It was smart to go with him, maybe find out where he lived and discover his weaknesses, if he had any. It would make it easier to kill him when the time came. If she tried now, she was as good as dead. There was no time limit on the contract. It made sense to discover all she could about her target before setting the trap.

  And she was lying to herself.

  Maccus was almost seven feet of muscle and menace. The only thing soft about him was his silky black hair. In person, his features were even more rugged. And his eyes seemed to hold all the secrets of the universe, all the pain.

  Black pants clung to his powerful thighs. A black tank top stretched across his massive chest beneath a light leather jacket. They were dressed in an almost identical manner, blending seamlessly with the night.

  He woke long forgotten yearnings from back when she’d been nothing more than an unsuspecting human living her ordinary life.

  He made her remember who she’d been, not what she’d become.

  Primal instincts urged her to run.

  He’s dangerous.

  Softness was not something she could afford. Not with her life and that of her sister hanging in the balance. Until she’d fulfilled her contract and paid the debt in full, Lucifer was within his rights to grab her sister. And there was nothing she wouldn
’t do to keep Kayley safe.

  That was her objective. She couldn’t forget it for one second. “Where are we going?” Now that they were no longer in hearing range of the cops, she was done blindly following him.

  When he didn’t answer, she reached out and grabbed his arm, intending to stop him. Her fingers barely had a chance to graze him when iron-hard fingers caught her wrist in an unbreakable hold. He wasn’t hurting her, but she couldn’t get away from him, either. His grip was as binding as the cuffs she’d slapped on Clem earlier.

  “You shouldn’t touch me.”

  Morrigan snorted. “We were sure as hell touching a few minutes ago.” Her heart beat fast, her skin tingled. His lips had been warm and firm. He tasted like coffee with a hint of some exotic spice. Mixed with the natural taste of hot, sexy male, it was downright addictive. No matter what else the man might have done, he sure knew how to kiss.

  One corner of his stern mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile, didn’t even come close. His features hardened.

  The sound of vehicles, sirens, and people’s voices filtered down the secluded alleyway. They were alone. No rats scurried about; no vagrants searched for a place to sleep or dug through the dumpster for food.

  The heat from his hand seeped into her skin. His breathing deepened along with hers. Sexual awareness and fear grew side by side. Her gun and sword were unreachable with him holding her. The knife tucked at the small of her back was closer, but she didn’t reach for it.

  She slowly raised her arm and looked pointedly at where he held her. He released her one finger at a time. Her skin cooled, but she refrained from rubbing it. Best not to let him know his touch affected her.

  “Where are we going?” she asked again. She wasn’t some docile lamb to be led to the slaughter.

  “My place.” His deep voice stroked her senses. “Unless you’d rather go to yours?”

  Her entire body hummed with sexual need unlike anything she’d ever encountered. Static electricity seemed to snap in the air. Her skin tingled.

  Being with Maccus was like riding a rollercoaster—frightening and exhilarating. She was scared to death but ready and willing to ride to the very end.

  And since she needed to know where he lived or at least where he was staying… “Your place is fine.”

  Dangerous undercurrents swirled under their every word and action. It was too bad she wasn’t an ordinary woman hooking up with a hot guy for a night of fantastic, mind-blowing sex.

  Maccus is a deadly killer on Lucifer’s hit list.

  The reminder shouldn’t be necessary, given what was on the line, but being around him muddled her senses.

  Morrigan ignored the pang in the region of her heart. It was nothing more than indigestion from the spicy chili she’d eaten earlier and had nothing at all to do with emotions. She didn’t have those. Not anymore. Couldn’t afford them. They’d only get her killed.

  But a mutual sexual itch—she was professional enough that she could scratch that and still take him down.

  Keep on telling yourself that.

  She ignored the inner taunt as she followed him across the city.

  He stepped out onto a busy city street. People were everywhere, but he didn’t once change course or step to the side. She followed in his wake, much like the tiny boat having the path cut by the much larger icebreaker, those powerful ships used to open channels in the Arctic ice.

  After the quiet back alleys they’d trekked, the din of the traffic, the bright lights from the buildings, and the claustrophobic crush of the people was almost too much to bear. She ignored the panhandlers inhabiting the shadowed doorways, the street vendors hawking their goods, and the smells from the food trucks and focused entirely on Maccus.

  Don’t lose him.

  She lengthened her stride and kept her eyes glued to his broad back. For once, she didn’t worry about running into a demon or other paranormals. Maccus gave off vibes that would keep even the nastiest of them away.

  So what did that say about her intelligence that she was following him?

  No choice.

  They walked several blocks before taking the stairs down to the subway. He stopped and purchased them both MetroCards. It seemed incongruous for someone as dangerous and deadly as him to pay the fare just like everyone else.

  What did you expect him to do? Jump the turnstile?

  Not paying would only draw unwanted attention, not that they weren’t garnering their fair share of it.

  People stared. Some people had resting bitch face—he had resting badass face.

  She snickered as she swiped her card and followed him onto the platform.

  As they stood waiting for the train, he glared at her, his brows low, his forehead lined. “What?” she demanded.

  He reached out and tugged the lapels of her jacket together. Glancing down, she swore under her breath. She’d been so intrigued by Maccus that she’d forgotten her own state. She quickly zipped the jacket to her neck to cover the blood splattered on her skin and rubbed her stained fingers on her pants. At least the dark clothing hid the worst of it. The last thing they needed was to attract the notice of the authorities.

  A subway cop strolled toward them, and Morrigan took a half step back, putting the bulk of Maccus in front of her. But the cop didn’t even glance in their direction.

  With a whoosh of air brakes, the train arrived. Everyone took one look at Maccus and sidled past or ran for another exit, all except one elderly African American lady, who slowly made her way toward the door. Maccus held out his hand and offered it to the woman. She glanced up at him, her eyes widening. But she took his hand and allowed him to help her onto the platform.

  “Thank you, young man.” She gave a brisk nod and headed toward the stairs. The corners of Maccus’s mouth twitched as though he was amused. Morrigan held her breath, willing him to smile, but the moment passed almost before it happened, and he was back to his usual stern self.

  He motioned to an empty bench but remained standing. No one sat next to her, but there were still people around. It took a lot to unsettle New Yorkers.

  The automated voice over the speaker told passengers to step back from the doors. Then the train was moving along the track, creaking and squealing as it gained speed.

  Since she had no idea where they were heading, she sat back and enjoyed the ride. Maccus was proving to be quite the enigma. He’d stopped a demon without blinking an eye. Then this big, dangerous man had calmly paid the subway fee and helped an elderly woman exit the train.

  Call her crazy, but she liked that he was complicated. Demons were such simple creatures, driven by very basic needs—sex, power, and violence.

  The rocking of the train lulled her. Her head dipped, and her eyes got heavy. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept well.

  Still, she forced herself to check out the other people on the train. It didn’t pay to get sloppy. She’d depended on Maccus’s badass vibe when they were on the street. Not smart. He could turn on her in a heartbeat. He might want her for sex, but if a threat came, he’d leave her on her own. That’s how it worked in her world.

  There were always demons and “others” around. The world was populated with paranormal creatures, but most humans lived their entire lives blissfully ignorant of that fact.

  She wished she was still one of them.

  Or maybe not. She would never have met Maccus. Of course, she was supposed to kill him. The more likely scenario was that he’d kill her.

  Yeah, she wished she could go back, but that was impossible.

  Honing her senses, she looked beyond the surface of those around her. A whiff of werewolf caught her attention. Sure enough, at the far end of the car, a man watched them. No, not them—Maccus. As if sensing her gaze, the werewolf glanced at her and then turned back to Maccus.

  It was an odd sensation to be dismi
ssed as inconsequential, as non-threatening. She was used to demons fearing her. But this werewolf was more wary of the man standing beside her. Of course, he was fierce in appearance, but maybe the wolf sensed something she didn’t.

  The train rumbled into a station, and Maccus faced the door. Morrigan followed him. The werewolf was still watching them as they headed toward the stairs. Then, the doors of the train closed and it pulled away, taking the wolf with it.

  Sweat trickled down her back, a combination of the warm night and her leather jacket. But she didn’t have much choice but wear it until she could get cleaned up. The collar of her coat constricted, making it harder to breathe.

  Morrigan stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. What was she doing? All her common sense had deserted her. Why was she following him? It was a great opportunity for her to learn more about her prey. Yes, he’d kissed her and made her body come alive.

  But the question she hadn’t asked, the one she would have asked if her brain hadn’t been muddled by the kiss and everything that had come before it, was why Maccus had been there? Coincidence? She didn’t believe in it.

  It’s probably a trap.

  Sucking up all her misgivings, she followed him to a sparkling high-rise in the heart of Manhattan. He bypassed the main entrance and went around the side of the building. There, almost hidden in the dark, was another door. When he placed his hand on the security panel, a light came on, and the door opened.

  Morrigan took a deep breath and stepped inside.

  Chapter Four

  The back of his neck itched as he walked across the parking garage toward the private elevator that connected to his suite. Owning the building came with perks.

  It went against all his instincts to allow someone at his back. In this case, it served a purpose. If Morrigan relaxed, she’d be more likely to talk.

  And to have sex.

  Right now, both were a priority.

  And it was a calculated risk. If she attacked, he trusted he was faster. Maybe that was nothing more than hubris, but it was a chance he was willing to take.