Passion Unleashed

by Larissa Ione

  “How?” Shade interrupted. “I thought sex was the key.”

  “Serena was a special case,” Reaver said shortly. The truth, that the transfer never should have happened, was something he didn’t care to discuss.

  Or think about.

  Shade took the hint and steered the conversation in a new direction. “So what happened after Serena got the charm?”

  “Her health improved instantly, but if she loses her charm, the disease will progress. She’ll die in a matter of days. Hours, maybe.”

  “Oh, fuck,” Shade muttered. “We can’t tell Wraith.”

  Eidolon’s dark brows shot up. “He needs to know.”

  “If he knows, he might not take her charm.”

  Reaver stared. “Are we talking about the same Wraith who screws and eats everyone he meets?”

  “Wraith won’t kill human females.”

  “That’s a character flaw I didn’t see coming,” Reaver muttered.

  “If it makes you feel any better, he does make exceptions for female Aegi,” Shade said, and turned to E. “She’s just a human, so I don’t know what your deal is.”

  “Your own mate is human.”

  “Was human. She’s cured of that now.”

  Reaver rolled his eyes. It was a stupid argument; werewolves, both born and turned, had human souls, and were therefore technically human. Vampires were, as well, though the fate of their souls was more complicated than that of humans, weres, and shifters.

  “Find another way to cure Wraith,” Reaver said, “because I won’t allow this to happen.” It was a bluff; under no circumstances were angels, especially fallen ones, allowed to interfere in a Marked Sentinel’s life.

  Then again, he’d done it before when he’d facilitated the transfer of the charm from Patrice to Serena.

  And he’d paid dearly.

  Shade got right up in Reaver’s face. “You interfere, and I’ll make you sorry.”

  “You can’t kill me, incubus.”

  “I sure as hell can try. And if I fail, I can still drag your sorry ass down to Sheoul for a little eternal fun.”

  Sweat dampened Reaver’s temples. Right now Reaver was stuck between realms, tossed out of Heaven but not completely ruined. A fallen angel who stayed in the human world still had a chance of getting back into Heaven, but one who entered Sheoul was lost forever.

  “Shade.” Eidolon clamped down on Shade’s thick biceps. “Back off. This isn’t helping anything. Wraith will do the right thing.”

  Wraith? Do the right thing? Reaver couldn’t believe that had come out of Eidolon’s mouth.

  Reaver willed his heart rate to slow down so he could hear through the roar of blood in his ears. He didn’t care about Wraith’s survival, or even Serena’s, no matter how much he liked her. Because this wasn’t truly about her life or death.

  Every Marked Sentinel was charmed for a reason. Every one of them was in possession of an object vital to the well-being of humanity.

  And what Serena held was the most important of all.

  Shade hung his head. “We tell him. Gods help us, we tell him.”

  Darkness closed in on Serena as quickly as the demons surrounding her. Four of them, ugly toadlike creatures that came no higher than her waist, had ambushed her when she’d stopped the car at the mailbox outside Valeriu’s mansion’s main gate

  Yesterday she’d depleted her entire savings to pay a sorceress to repair her cloak, but clearly, the word was out.

  She still hadn’t told Val. There was no reason to at this point, and besides, he was already on edge, because an alarm had been sounded within The Aegis, of which Val was a high-ranking, card-carrying member.

  According to Val, The Aegis was gearing up for what they thought might be a demon incursion. Demon sightings by the general human population were on the rise, skirmishes between demons and The Aegis were taking place much more frequently, and they were taking heavy losses.

  In an effort to combat the growing threat, the demon-fighting organization had lowered their standards for recruitment, put former Guardians on alert for recall, and were deploying current members on research and reconnaissance missions.

  Serena was itching to help, had been hoping Val would send her on her own assignment, and if the text message she’d gotten from him telling her to get home immediately was any indication, her itch might just get scratched.

  After she got away from these demons, anyway. Their creepy, overly wide mouths gaped open, rows of sharp teeth disappearing far down their throats. A tremor of excitement shot through her, because she rarely got to handle things like this. Her specialty was treasure hunting, and normally her only challenges consisted of layers of dust, poisonous insects, and the occasional booby trap of either the physical or magical variety.

  She supposed she should be cautious—after all, if her cloak had failed, maybe her charm could too, but she didn’t think so.

  There’s a way around every charm, spell, and curse. Val’s constantly uttered words, spoken with a Romanian accent, rang in her head. The guy was seriously paranoid.

  One of the demons hissed and leaped for her. She nailed it in the face with her purse, and it tumbled backward, bowling over two others. Whirling, she opened the Land Rover’s driver-side door, whacking a demon as it came at her. She jammed the SUV into gear and drove over the things, squashing them like bugs.

  Though she’d never killed a demon before, Val had assured her that they disintegrated aboveground, and sure enough, as she idled in the driveway and watched through the rear window, they shriveled up and disappeared, leaving greasy stains on the road.

  She was so not telling Val about this.

  Her phone beeped. Val again. Stepping on it, she sped up the drive. She parked at the guest quarters, where she’d lived for the last six years, and jogged to the main house. She found Val and his son, David, in the lavish library, which was lined with shelves of books about archaeology, anthropology, world history, and demonology. Val might be an Elder, a high-ranking member of The Aegis, but he’d also been an archaeology professor for years, one of the few who specialized in paranormal archaeology and demon artifacts.

  Neither man bothered with a hello. Val didn’t even look away from his computer. “Where have you been?” He waved his hand. “Never mind. You’re here now. I’m sending you to Egypt. You leave tonight.”

  “But I thought you wanted to finish research on the Philae project before we went.”

  “Actually,” Val said with a sly smile, “I believe I may have found something.”

  A thousand questions formed on her lips, tangling together until only one slipped out in a tentative whisper. “The Temple of Hathor?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the other artifact? The coin?”

  “Alexandria. The catacombs of Kom El-Shuqafa—the Hall of Caracalla, specifically.”

  “Oh, my God.” Her fingers trembled as she tugged her amulet back and forth on its gold chain. “Of course.”

  This was amazing news. The two artifacts he’d been seeking were of historical importance, but more than that, Val was certain they would be critical in a battle between good and evil. A battle The Aegis believed was brewing at this very moment.

  The artifacts, an ancient Gnostic tablet and a bronze coin, were, by themselves, capable of powerful protection against evil. But together they could strike a critical blow to demonkind.

  “Can you be ready to go in two hours?”

  “No problem.” She moved to the wet bar in the corner and scooped ice into a highball glass. “I can’t wait. I love Alexandria.”

  “Yes,” Val said, reaching out to run his finger over the intricate designs etched into the bracelet she’d stolen from the vampire the night before. “I know. But there’s no time for sightseeing. You’ll get in and get out as fast as you can.”

  She froze as she tipped the bottle of bourbon toward her glass. “Alone? You aren’t coming with me?”

  “Unfortunately, no. The Sigil h
as called all Elders together. David and I will leave for Berlin tomorrow night.”

  David, a handsome, thirty-four-year-old version of Val, with his dark hair and eyes, finally looked up from the map he was studying. “No one to hold your hand on this one.”

  He was teasing—he often gave her a hard time about Val’s constant hovering, but he was right; this was highly unusual. Val rarely let her go on trips longer than a night without him. Her safety wasn’t an issue; he was more concerned about the possibility that some man would sweep her off her feet, and she’d finally give in to her desire for a relationship that included all the normal things, like sex. Lots of sex, if she had anything to say about it. God, her body was a powder keg ready to blow, and Val knew it.

  He was like an overprotective father with a shotgun.

  In many ways, she was glad for that. She’d grown up without a father, without a male influence at all.

  After her mother died, she’d been raised in a convent, educated by nuns who had hoped she’d become a nun as well. But Serena had been too adventurous, had desired travel and excitement, and she’d left the good sisters to follow in her mother’s footsteps and become a female Indiana Jones.

  She smiled at that, because she’d done the Indiana Jones thing, all right, but not in the way she’d expected.

  Eighteen years old and hungry for life, she’d gone to college, her days filled with archaeology and anthropology courses. Which were bo-ring with a capital B. It had taken only a year of working part-time in the archaeology department and falling asleep in class to realize that becoming an archaeologist might not be the right career for her. Too much research, too few ancient curses and speeding bullets.

  And that was when Val had stepped in.

  He’d been an assistant professor of anthropology at Yale University, and had, in fact, been the reason she’d chosen the college. She’d remembered him as the Guardian who had watched over her mother until she died, and who had visited Serena occasionally as she was growing up.

  He’d encouraged her love of archaeology, from the moment she demonstrated an uncanny ability to find pretty much anything anyone lost, and then later during college, when he took a few select students on a field trip to a historical Revolutionary War battlefield.

  A gut feeling had led her away from the group, to a forested area just beyond the battleground. There near the remnants of a stone fence and three feet under the soil, she’d discovered a shoebox-sized chest containing a few coins, a pipe, and a letter detailing a heinous betrayal by the leader of the Americans. A leader who had gone down in history as a hero, but if the letter could be authenticated, history would be turned on its ear.

  That very day, Val had offered her a position with his private archaeological contracting company, a place to live in one of the two guest houses adjoining his mansion-slash-museum, and pretty much squat for pay. Not that the pay truly mattered—she wanted for nothing, in part because Val paid for the essentials, and in part because he kept her so busy traveling that she didn’t have a lot of spare time.

  He’d left the university right after that—solely so he could keep an eye on her, which he still did with annoying frequency.

  So yes, she had everything—a great life and the career of her dreams. She had almost everything she wanted and no fears save two: years of illness and time spent in hospitals had given her an irrational fear of death—irrational because as long as she was charmed, she couldn’t die. Well, she couldn’t die unless she fell victim to her other fear—that she would someday give in to her desire for a relationship.

  Right now she was strong, but she was terrified of the day she met the man of her dreams, because as strong as she was, she was also curious and hungry, and temptation was an evil mistress.

  “I’m assuming all my travel, hotels, and entrance into the catacombs have been arranged?”

  Val pushed a file on his desk at her. “It’s all here. An ex-Guardian named Josh Nichols will meet you in Alexandria to give you an item you may need to gain access to the chamber I believe holds the coin.”

  Setting aside her drink, she picked up the folder and thumbed through it. “Does he know about me? What I am?”

  “No.”

  Very few humans did. As far as she knew, only a handful of the twelve Aegis Elders, including Val and David, knew. “What am I supposed to tell him?”

  “You don’t need to tell him anything. He’s used to people borrowing the artifact, which we think is a key of sorts.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Why would people borrow it?”

  “It’s been in his family for centuries, but no one knows precisely what it does. Only that it has been associated with the catacombs, and whenever a new section is excavated, his artifact becomes an object of interest.”

  “And now that you know the location of the coin, you think his artifact is significant?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll get going.” Giddy, because this might be the find of a lifetime, Serena headed for the door.

  “Serena.” Val’s voice stopped her in her tracks, and when she turned, his dark gaze sent a chill of foreboding up her spine. “Be very careful.”

  “Always,” she lied.

  “You can’t be too careful,” he said. “Don’t ever forget that, Sere. Never.”

  Four

  The worst thing about dying slowly wasn’t the dying part. It was the fact that the poison the assassin used had all but killed Wraith’s libido.

  He used to require sex a dozen times a day. Since last week when he’d awakened from the drugged stupor his brothers had put him in, he’d been lucky to feel a stir every couple of days.

  Yep, dying sucked. Dying slowly sucked, anyway. He’d made a few valiant attempts to accelerate things a bit since he’d escaped the hospital without his brothers’ knowledge, had put himself in some seriously shit situations in demon pubs, had antagonized entire nests of vampires just for fun, and had interrupted a Nightlash demon hunt—never a good idea to get between a dozen Nightlashes and their meal. The battles had been exhilarating, brief, and bloody. Wraith had been outnumbered but never outclassed, and he’d limped away from every one of the fights.

  Whether or not he’d truly won was the question.

  E had been calling several times a day, calls that Wraith had ignored, though he had gone into UG last night and what he had seen there shocked him.

  The hospital had been severely understaffed. As he’d stood in the emergency department, a section of the ceiling had collapsed. Every demon he’d come across seemed agitated; rumor had it that an army was starting to gather in the outer reaches of Sheoul, but no one could confirm it. Besides, a demon army was always gathering somewhere, each time some territorial warlord started something up with another.

  Wraith didn’t bother knocking on E’s door. He opened up and immediately Tayla’s ferret Mickey scampered down the hall, his tiny nails clicking on the hardwood floor. The critter climbed Wraith’s jeans-clad leg and waist until he was happily tucked in the crook of Wraith’s right arm.

  “Hey, buddy,” Wraith murmured. “Where’s my brother?”

  He headed for E’s office, nodded at Tayla and Gem, who were baking something chocolate in the kitchen, but who looked pretty damned grim as they stood there with tall glasses of orange juice in their hands. Their Soulshredder species was tropical, and they required large amounts of vitamin C, especially if they were stressed out.

  Wraith wondered how many gallons they’d already gone through this morning. Hell, Gem had been downing the stuff like vodka ever since Kynan had quit the hospital and gone back to the military. Whatever. The guy was decent—he’d volunteered his rein to Wraith a time or two—but when it came down to it, Wraith could kill Kynan as easily as he could look at him.

  “Eidolon’s in the den with Shade,” Tay said, and oh, great… this was a family get-together. Must be really bad.

  Cursing to himself, because he really didn’t need this shit, he ste
pped into E’s study, where Shade was lounging on the leather sofa with E’s dog Mange at his feet. Eidolon sat at his desk, nose buried in a medical text. He looked up as Wraith closed the door, and for the first time since telling Wraith he was going to die, E didn’t look at him with sorrow in his dark eyes.

  “What’s up?” Wraith said, taking a seat. Mickey chattered indignantly and scrambled onto his T-shirted shoulder, then draped himself around Wraith’s neck like a fur stole.

  “I think we’ve found a way to save your life.”

  Wraith’s pulse went double-time, but he forced himself to stay level. What E had just said sounded great, but there was still a serious set to his mouth, so something wasn’t all blood and fun here. “Lay it on me.”

  “You’re going to have to steal a charm from someone.”

  “A charm? Like a dangly little bracelet thing?”

  “Not exactly,” Shade said. “This charm is a divine blessing that makes the recipient immune to harm. You’ll have to take it from the owner.”

  Wraith narrowed his eyes at Shade. “Something tells me that stealing this charm won’t be as easy as getting up an Orgesu’s skirt.”

  “Depends on how you look at it.” Shade shifted on the couch, his leather pants squeaking on the cushions. “I mean, it involves sex.”

  “Well, then, things are looking up. So what’s the challenge?”

  Shade exchanged glances with Eidolon before saying, “Ah, well… you’ll have to seduce the owner. The charm can only be transferred through sex. Willing sex. Obviously, if she’s charmed, she can’t be forced.”

  “Seduction isn’t a problem.” Hell, no. Females came to him willingly. At least, they had until he’d gone through s’genesis and gained the facial markings that flashed warnings to all demon things female. Now he had to resort to trickery to get laid.