How to Capture a Demon's Heart

by Graceley Knox

  Then, there was the bottle in my apron. It was the bottle that would set him free, and part of me wanted to hide it somewhere so he would never leave. I felt so dirty just thinking it, that I pulled the bottle out and walked back to him, just as Orson was standing to go back into the kitchen.

  He shook Ranger’s hand, and flashed me a quick grin, and just as he was turning to walk through the dining room, Ranger shouted something, and Orson flew into the bar, smashing his face against the wooden edge and collapsing out of view.

  Ranger was on his feet in an instant, and planted himself, fists raised, as Shawn stood and shook off the tackle he’d just made. “Marshal. You don’t want to do this.”

  Shawn laughed at him, a harsh, braying sound I’d never heard from him before. “Does she know you only want what she has, not her, Demon?”

  I glanced around at our patrons, who were backing away from the two men. “Bar’s closed, go home, I’m paying all tabs. Just go, and be safe, everybody.” I glanced at Sara, crouched behind the bar, and mouthed to her, “Call the police.”

  “He doesn’t want you, Darcy, he just wants that bottle from your bookshelf. Did you give it to him?”

  “Why do you care? If giving it to him makes him leave doesn’t that make you happy?”

  Shawn swung wildly and missed as Ranger danced out of his reach again, luring him toward the front door. “I’ll be happy when he’s dead, and you learn a woman’s place.”

  “Yeah, sure, under you, I’d bet,” I muttered to Sara, giving her a wink. Some of the fear faded from her face, and I wished I was as able to make myself less afraid. But I was afraid for Orson, who hadn’t moved, and Shawn was still too close for me to risk going to him.

  Ranger seemed to know what I was thinking. He kept dancing back, always letting Shawn get close enough to swing before he backed away again. Finally, I felt safe leaving the cover of the counter and scooted across it, dropping next to Orson as he shook his head and retched a couple of times.

  “God that hurt.”

  I patted his arm and checked the knot on his head, which was already pronounced and ended at a cut that was oozing blood. “Hey, good news. You’re bleeding, but not gushing. Now get behind the counter, Sara called the police.

  The guys from the kitchen were gathered in the hall, Jose holding the others back as Ranger and Shawn circled each other.

  “C’mon, Marshal. You don’t need to keep fighting. We both know what’s making your gut burn and your mind scream. I don’t have a soul. I don’t have what you need.”

  Shawn cackled at him. “But you do have a soul, Demon. It’s twisted and broken, but it’s in there. That’s why you’ve stuck around, right? Because Darcy’s nice tits and perfect ass made you feel something.” I growled and he glanced my way. “Or maybe those big hazel eyes do it for you. Are you a sensitive demon?”

  “God damn it, Shawn. Shut up and get out or throw a punch, you damned weenie.” I grabbed the paring knife I used to cut limes and stalked toward them. “What the hell happened to you?”

  His eyes were wild as he glanced between Ranger and me, trying to keep us both in his line of sight. “That’s exactly right, Baby. Hell happened to me. The Hel with one ‘l’ that is, the place where souls go to suffer. I don’t think anyone can expect me to be quite the same after visiting that place.”

  “What a load of crap.” A man I’d never seen before stepped into the light. That is, he detached himself from the shadows and allowed us to see him. This was a demon. Not like Ranger, but like the demons of Shawn’s most terrifying stories.

  At first glance, he looked like a man, but that image shifted and changed like a hologram, until it made me dizzy to look at him. I backed away, putting distance between us, but it moved me closer to Shawn and Ranger, which seemed just as bad.

  “Leave her alone, Boras. This is the one you want. The marshal’s soul is already ripe for the plucking.” Ranger placed himself between us. “You know I can’t take her soul, so leave her out of it.”

  But the shifting demon’s red eyes fixed on me, and I couldn’t look away. “But she has something I want. Something we all want. He lunged for me and Ranger threw himself at him, pushing me back so hard I slammed against the last booth.

  Jose reached out for me, but Shawn got to me first, tearing at my clothes like an animal. Searching for the bottle I’d slipped out of my apron and tucked under the bench seat behind me. Jose shouted and the guys swarmed forward, grabbing Shawn, but hiding the real fight from view.

  I cupped the bottle in my hand as Shawn was dragged back and I scuttled like a crab toward the door so I could see Ranger. He and the demon were locked together, the demon screeching at Ranger, his face every changing, human, animal, something that was neither floated on the surface of his skin. But Ranger didn’t change. He didn’t turn red like Shawn was, or vibrate with some nauseating evil energy like the new creature.

  He began to glow, a soft golden light melting the chocolate from his eyes and turning it to sunlight. The botte in my hand warmed as if in answer to that glow, and I crept closer, looking for a chance to slip it to him, to give him that energy advantage he’d told me about.

  Behind me, Jose screamed a warning, and Shawn burst free of his captors, his eyes on me. “Time to die, bitch. Now you get to see Hel.”

  I screamed and slid back on the floor, and Shawn caught hold of my arms, clawing down my forearms as he scrabbled for the bottled clenched in my fist. He grinned at me, his eyes narrow slits that widened in surprise as he flew backward and into the same section of counter that he’d rammed Orson into.

  The shifting, changing demon Ranger had called Boras turned his attention to me, and on a split second of an idea, I threw the bottle at Ranger. “It wants you, Ranger, take it!” The demon threw himself back with t a shriek, but Ranger kicked out, catching it in the midsection as the bottle dropped into his palm. It dropped to the floor and rolled to one side as Ranger stared in wonder at the bottle, its contents growing more luminous by the second.

  Shawn attacked, and Ranger dodged to one side as Boras lunged with a knife, catching Shawn instead. He spun Shawn around and sliced his arm, catching the blood on a stone. Ranger grabbed the marshal blade from Shawn’s hand and stabbed Boras, who froze in place, even its shifting halted by the blade.

  “Shit, he always said that was how they did it, but holy shit, the knives really do stop demons.”

  Ranger nodded, panting. The poison is deadly to humans but can’t quite kill an immortal.” He sighed and motioned me to him. “I’m sorry he killed Shawn. I tried.”

  I stepped around the blood and bodies to get my kiss. “I know you did. You aren’t to…” Ranger let out a groan and I glanced down at Shawn, hanging from the blade embedded in Ranger’s side.

  “I won’t be dying any time soon, Demon. I’m like you now.”

  Ranger was frozen, his face contorted in pain. Shawn stood and glanced down at himself. “Put it off for too long, if you ask me.” He snarled at me and held out his hand. “Give me the soul.”

  “Fuck you.” I popped the cork off the brightly glowing bottle and forced it out of Ranger’s paralyzed hand. I poured the contents into his gaping mouth, praying that it would help him, heal him, at least free him from the paralysis that gripped him.

  Whatever I expected to happen, it was nothing compared to the blinding light that enveloped the room, forcing me to my knees, my hands pressed to my face.

  After moments of silence that stretched into an eternity, I heard Ranger’s voice. “Hey, Ms. O’Shay, it’s all right. You can open your eyes now.”

  The room was no longer lit like the sun, and Ranger, still softly glowing, helped me to my feet. Shawn was lying on the floor next to the body of the other demon. Otherwise, we were alone, surrounded by broken chairs and a few overturned tables.

  “What happened?”

  “The police are en route, to pick up the bodies of two men who killed one another, your ex-boyfriend, and the man he swor
e was a demon.”

  “Do the guys know what to say?”

  “They will. After what happened at your apartment, I don’t think anyone’s going to be checking the story too closely. Shawn snapped. That much is true, and the evidence supports it.”

  “What about you?”

  He looked down at his arms, ran his hands down his torso. “I don’t know yet. But I feel good. Better than I’ve felt since the last war between Hel and the Host.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d have said you were on the same side as the Host, not the demons.”

  A light seemed to ignite behind his eyes, like a long-lost memory dawning. I wanted to hold him, make him kiss me until I forgot what a man’s blood looked like outside his body, but the sirens were getting louder, and I had people to check on before the police arrived.

  Chapter 16

  Ranger

  By the time my memories of a life among the Host of Heaven began to return, the police had removed the bodies from O’Shay’s, sent Orson to the hospital, and warned Darcy that she’d have to stay closed for another day while their crime team gathered evidence.

  But I’d been right about the police too. They were all too happy to be done with covering for Shawn and handed him and his so-called ‘demon’ over to the marshal who arrived shortly after they had.

  Darcy told everyone to go home and collapsed in the nearest chair as the squad cars began to pull out of the parking lot, no sirens this time. Without a word I lifted her, carrying her in my arms like a child as I strode out of the building, turning out lights and locking the doors with a wave of my hand.

  “Not hiding it now, huh?”

  I grinned in the darkness and called a light to shine on our way. “it’s different when you can say your lover is an angel instead of a demon.”

  “Is that what you are?” she sighed, “are you an angel?” She snuggled into me. “I should’ve known. You were too genteel to be like that creature from the bar.” She lifted her head. “Or was it the poor bottled soul?”

  “You can’t bottle a soul, Darcy, don’t you worry.” I set her down in her car and moved to the other side, starting it without a key, which made her giggle again.

  But it was a quiet drive back to her home. I felt her guilt, grief, sadness, relief, and joy warring in her for priority. Luckily, I had just the cure to quiet her mind and take all thoughts from her.

  I refused to let her walk, carrying her up the stairs and stepping over her books and dishes so she could pretend her home was whole and unblemished. In the bedroom, I swept the clothes off the bed and laid her down, undressing her slowly as she stared into my eyes.

  “You are so beautiful,” she said softly, as she trailed her fingers down my arms. “You glow like a star.” It was the closest she’d come to what I once was, what I was becoming again. I stripped quickly, my need overwhelming everything else that I felt and everything that she felt. All that was left was her soft curves and silken skin under my hands, her tight, wetness wrapped around my glowing cock.

  She gasped, clutching my arms as I filled her with light and heat, drawing out of her slowly, then driving into her again. “You are the angel, Darcy O’Shay,” I panted as I drove her to climax around me. I am light, but you are the wings of the dove, a messenger from Heaven.”

  Darcy pulled me down to her, pressed my glowing skin against her warm flesh and I felt her soul in me with each thrust. “You are my soul,” she whispered, and for a moment it was true. Our bodies melted away as she clenched me tightly inside her, our souls melting into one as I roared my climax over her screaming my name.

  The light under my skin faded and I collapsed beside her, drawing one leg over me. “Ms. O’Shay, you have ruined me.”

  “Damn DeVries,” she let out a throaty chuckle, “if that’s all it takes, wait until I catch my breath and show you what I can really do.”

  I scooped her into my stomach and held her close. One night or forever I’d found my Heaven, and it had hair of fire, eyes of green gold flame, and a heart that could heal Hel itself.

  Continue on for an exclusive sneak preview of Curse of Iron!

  The Legend

  "Tiocfaidh an leathling chun críche do réimeas, ag caitheamh draíocht Gaia ó lámh seanóirí wicca, agus coróin na Fae a athnuachan"

  “The halfling will come to end your reign, tearing Gaia’s magic from the hands of the elders of wicca, and restoring the crown of the Fae…”

  The child was born on the tenth day of the tenth month, one hundred years after Morgana cursed her own kind to dwindle in power until the great coven was no more. Her mother was a high priestess of Gaia, her father the heir apparent to the throne of the Seelie Fae, the light court of Fairy.

  But the priestess could not survive the hate and fear, and somehow, the strong, vibrant witch died during childbirth. The Fae king was fading, his son poised to take the throne. His grief knew no release, but he had too many hidden enemies to allow them to know his daughter. He left her with the witches—to keep her safe from harm—and left fairies among the humans to keep watch over her until the time came when she would be strong enough to join him, or his throne was secure.

  Chapter 1

  The first thing I noticed when I jerked awake was my mouth tasted like sawdust and beer.

  The second was the weight of another body beside me.

  I must have drank more than I thought.

  I didn’t remember bringing a guy home and considering how long it had been I could’ve used the recollection of a good time. I swallowed trying to work up some moisture into my mouth, and inched closer to the edge of the bed, and reached for the light.

  The form next to me was cool when my toes brushed against him and too still, making my heart pound excitedly. I turned on the bedside lamp and eased out of bed to look down at the naked man I’d woken up next to, his eyes wide and staring, already clouded by death.

  It took a second to register his face, already twisted into his death mask.

  Gideon Masters.

  Gideon Masters, the baddest Alpha on this side of the continent is in my bed—and he’s fucking dead. What in the fresh fuck is happening? Is this a nightmare?

  I slammed my fist into the wall, sucking in air at the bruising pain in my knuckles. I backed away from the bed, revulsion twisting my stomach. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, my brain played the words on repeat like one of the old vinyl records my boss liked to play in the office. Gideon’s lifeless eyes continued to stare at the ceiling, ensuring no matter what else, I wouldn’t sleep there restfully, ever again.

  He was naked from the waist up, revealing dark chest hair and fine cut abs. The blankets were pulled back enough to make my stomach lurch again at the realization he was definitely not wearing anything underneath, either. His skin had already begun to look waxy, even in the half light of the reading lamp, and my hand searched automatically for the wall switch before I stopped myself.

  “You don’t need a better look, stupid,” I glanced at the window-shade, drawn, no sign it had been opened. “How the hell did you get in here?” I glanced around, looking for some clue to jog my memory, or explain how I’d woken up in a nightmare worse than any I’d had while sleeping. I tugged my long tee down over my legs, grateful I hadn’t been nude next to him, cuddled skin to skin with death.

  “Okay, stop freaking out and call someone,” I glanced around for my phone. The charging stand next to the bed was empty, and my bag was nowhere in sight.

  I backed toward the door, pushing the disgust and fear back, examining the bedroom as best I could. There was no blood on the bed and no sign of a struggle of any kind. Maybe he had a bad heart…or was sick…or was poisoned by Aunt Portia and left here as a warning.

  I shuddered at the thought as my fingers found the doorknob behind me and I slipped out of the bedroom. With the horror hidden safely behind my door, I glanced around the living area of my apartment. If the body in my bed hadn’t put itself there, I might not be alone. I dropp
ed into a crouch behind the armchair and moved in a crab-like walk, visually clearing the living room, dining room, and kitchen, before I jumped up and raced to the denim satchel I used as a purse.

  Grabbing my phone out of the bag, I ducked behind the island and started to dial, my eyes constantly glancing between the closed guest bathroom and the hallway which led to the two bedrooms. Orson, pick up, pick up, pick up, I begged silently as I listened to the trilling ring on the other end.

  “What the hell, girl?” Orson growled from the speaker, but I didn’t have a chance to answer him.

  “Police! Open up!” The shout came from the hall. A moment later, my door crashed open, and I screamed, dropping my phone.

  “Show your hands!” In seconds I was on my face against the cool wooden floor, my arms wrenched painfully behind my back as cops swarmed my apartment. I froze as a paralyzing spell landed on me.

  “Watch out, she’s a hexer,” one barked, and they all backed away from me. Lying flat with my cheek pressed into the floor, I stared at the dust bunnies under my couch, the voices around me strangely muffled from my vantage point.

  The witch-detective who had paralyzed me kneeled at my side, checking I was incapacitated before she gave the others permission to yank me to my feet. If they’d bothered to ask, I would’ve told them I was happy to comply, but they probably wouldn’t have believed me anyway.

  As her lips moved, my mind cleared enough to realize my rights were being read to me. I nodded my understanding because the spell wouldn’t let me speak. It wasn’t quite constitutional, but I worked with law enforcement every day. I knew how much harder the job had been for the last century, as magical beings stopped hiding in the shadows and entered mainstream society.