“Hunter,” she purred, her fingers on his chest. “You said you could give me a child if you chose.”
“Maybe.” Hunter wondered how the hell this demon woman knew what he’d said intimately to Leda, and his rage grew with his worry. If she’d touched Leda, she would know pain so intense she’d beg Hunter to kill her.
“I know losing your children was hard,” she said with Leda’s voice. “You’ve held back all these years so you won’t be hurt again. But let me be your vessel. I want this. I’ll be so good to the baby.”
Hunter heard Mukasa roar, and the lion’s huge paw scraping the door. The demon smiled down at him, seductive, beautiful, her eyes so dark they were nearly black.
Hunter realized the demon on him had reached into his mind and pulled out what Hunter craved most. In a thousand years he’d not again met a woman he wanted to love, to marry as the humans did, to raise a family, until he’d found Leda. He wanted the real Leda saying these things, the true Leda smiling at him and promising to be good to his children. He wanted that brief piece of happiness, even if it meant losing her in the end.
“Stop pretending to be Leda,” Hunter growled. “What did you do with her?”
She pouted. “Hunter. I belong to you. I’m yours.”
The lion battered at the door, his claws scraping gouges in the wood. Hunter reached out with his magic and let him in.
Leda’s form vanished to be replaced by a seductively beautiful woman with long black hair. Her hands on his chest turned to razor-sharp talons, and she plunged them into his skin.
Mukasa sprang. The demon ripped her fingers from Hunter, her nails leaving ten long gouges in Hunter’s chest that ran with blood. She threw a stream of death magic at Mukasa, sending the big cat soaring backward.
Hunter hit the demon with a blast of his own magic. She flew straight up to slam against the ceiling, and she hung there, her naked body lush, her swath of midnight hair hanging down.
“Immortals,” she growled. “So full of yourselves.”
“Get over it, sweetheart,” Hunter said.
“I will kill her. I will suck out Leda’s life and enjoy every screaming moment of it.”
In fury, Hunter rolled from the bed, scraped up his sword from the carpet, and lunged at the demon. Just as the sword touched her, a portal opened in the ceiling, sucked the demon into it, and then closed, leaving behind nothing but her trailing laughter.
Hunter blinked once . . . and found himself standing outside in the quiet courtyard, his clothes unshredded, his sword still fixed on the wide-eyed vampire. The front door was shut, the wood un-gouged by lion’s claws, the night still. Mukasa rumbled softly.
“What was that?” the vampire asked nervously. “You kind of zoned out for a second or two.”
Hunter pulled himself together, wondering what the hell had just happened. A vision? A dream? Or some way-too-powerful magic?
“Tell me where to find Septimus,” Hunter growled at the vampire. “Now.”
The club was in the heart of downtown Los Angeles, near Little Tokyo, in an area that had once been full of chic shops and restaurants. Now, most of the stores and eateries were closed, with metal awnings shut tight over the windows, and walls covered in graffiti. No one walked abroad on this street except vampires and those under the vamps’ protection.
Mukasa leapt out of the back of the taxi when Hunter opened the door for him, his growl echoing on the quiet street. The driver gunned the engine, and shot away from the curb, not waiting for Hunter to pay the fare. He roared down the street as fast as he could, happy to be quit of Hunter.
Hunter had warded the car heavily while they rode, so the driver should be the safest man in town for long as he drove that cab, which would more than cover the cost of the ride. Hunter gave the vanishing taxi a wave and turned to enter the club.
A well-dressed vampire behind a counter in the vestibule greeted Hunter with a flat stare. “Check your sword here. No weapons allowed.”
Hunter met him stare for stare, and then Mukasa shouldered his way through the door. The vamp’s already pale face whitened still more.
“Where is the vamp called Septimus?” Hunter asked, making no move to give up the sword.
The vampire swallowed. “In the back, in his office. He’s expecting you.”
“I’ll find it.” Hunter rested his naked blade over his shoulder, ignored the bouncers at the door, who tried not to be obvious backing away from him, and strolled into the club, followed by Mukasa.
It was a typical vampire place, decorated in black and blood-red, staccato in-your-face music, vampires dancing closely and seductively with their blood slaves or with one-timers who thought they wanted to be blood slaves. The dance floor was crowded, these people full of bravado, believing they were safe in the citadel of a vampire lord.
Humans and vampires alike stopped, stunned, when they saw the warrior with a serpentine sword striding through, followed by a lion. A path opened for them, the curious behind pressing against the fearful in front.
The door to the back rooms was flanked by two large vampires in suits. When Hunter approached, one vampire touched an earpiece, nodded, and stepped aside to open the door.
Hunter found himself in a short corridor with a door at the end, which opened of its own accord. He felt the death magic of an Old vampire, the faint tang of Samantha Taylor’s death magic, and the bright, sharp aura of Leda—pink and orange and honey-scented.
Leda got out of her chair when Hunter came into the room and faced him, defiant. A tall vampire in a black suit rose from behind the desk, but Hunter’s first concern was for Leda.
“Hunter, I’m sorry,” she began, “but . . .”
Hunter went straight to her and dragged her into his arms, his body relaxing into the warm feel of her. This was the real Leda, sweet and vulnerable, but strong at the same time. Never minding the vampire, Samantha, and bodyguards staring at them, Hunter brushed his lips over Leda’s, needing a taste of her.
“Hunter,” she said, her breath warm. Leda tried, without success, to push him away. “You brought Mukasa to Los Angeles?”
Hunter shrugged, still holding on to her. “He wanted to come. I saw no reason to stop him.”
Leda gave him an alarmed look. “What about Taro?”
“He didn’t want to go out on such a tiny boat. The Undine is looking after him.”
More worry in the furrow of her brow. “Are you sure he’ll be all right?”
“Very sure. Or I’d not have left him with her.”
Leda sighed, half relieved, half resigned. “Goddess, what am I going to do with you?”
“I have some ideas,” Hunter rumbled into her ear.
Leda flushed and turned away as Hunter finally released her. The tall vampire came around the desk, removing his sunglasses to give Hunter the full view of his dark blue eyes.
“Hunter, we meet again,” he said. “I’m glad you’ve come, although our last encounter was less than convivial.”
Hunter looked him up and down, smelling the death magic rolling off him. This vampire was an Old One—powerful, magical, dangerous.
“You don’t remember?” Septimus asked. “I remember you and that sword of yours. You did your best to kill me about a hundred years ago.”
“I fight a lot of vampires,” Hunter said. “I kill most of them, especially Old Ones. I must have been drunk if you’re still alive.”
“We went three days without a break and then you walked away. Good thing for me; I wouldn’t have lasted much longer. I tried asking for a truce, but you wouldn’t listen.”
“If I left you alive it was to come back and kill you another day.”
“How very thoughtful of you. I’m Septimus, by the way. A colleague, shall we say, of your brother Adrian. He’s looking for you.”
“I heard.” Hunter seated himself in an empty chair and pulled Leda next to him, his arm firmly around her waist. “Walk me through what’s been happening.”
Hunter li
stened while Septimus confirmed what Kali had told him. Tain wanted to end the pain of his torture by ending the world.
“The Coven of Light is searching for Kalen and Darius as we speak,” Septimus finished. “Leads have turned up in Manhattan and Scotland. And now you. I’m pleased to see you even if you’re not as excited to see me. The world is going to hell fast, and I wouldn’t mind if you put a stop to it.”
“Why?” Hunter’s eyes narrowed. “I would think you’d enjoy the destruction.”
“Not really. I like neatness.” Septimus cast a fastidious gaze over Hunter’s dusty jeans and worn T-shirt. “And I hate demons.”
Hunter gave him a nod. “Something we can agree about.”
“Adrian has a house in Malibu. With his Immortal magic woven over it, it’s more protected than anything I have. I can send the ladies there while I make arrangements to fly you to Seattle in one of my planes to join Adrian. I won’t go to Seattle myself. If word got out I’d left Los Angeles, things would fall apart.”
“Good ideas,” Hunter said. “Except I go out to the Malibu house with Leda. I’m not letting her travel alone again.”
“As you like. My limousine will take you wherever you wish.” Septimus flicked a glance to Mukasa, who was nudging Leda with his head in the happy way of cats. “Does that thing have a cage?” he asked in a pained voice. “I fear for my upholstery.”
Chapter Eleven
There was plenty of room in the limousine for all of them, even a lion, it turned out. Mukasa peered through the smoked glass in front at the driver, curious.
“Easy, big fella,” the vampire driver said.
Mukasa narrowed his eyes at being called big fella but settled heavily onto the seat. Hunter slid his arm around Leda, pulling her against him as one of the bodyguards closed the door, and the driver pulled out into the night.
“Look at this place,” Samantha said as she watched Los Angeles flowing by the darkened windows.
Leda craned to see from the circle of Hunter’s arms, the heat of his body surrounding her like a cocoon. He hadn’t let go of her hand since he’d led her out of Septimus’s club, his broad fingers twined firmly through her slender ones.
Leda had expected Hunter to behave like an arrogant male, shouting at her for daring to put a spell on him and leave him behind. But he sat in silence, locking her in place with his strong arms. Instead of scolding her for leaving him, he was making sure she couldn’t do it again.
The solid bulk of Hunter’s chest and the length of his body against hers made her realize how much she’d missed him, how relieved she’d been when he’d come charging into Septimus’s office. She wanted him to herself for a while, where she could show him how difficult it had been to leave him behind.
She blushed in the darkness. She’d never blatantly wanted carnality—even when she’d been married, sex had been a wonderful thing, but she hadn’t needed it. Now she craved Hunter like a starving woman.
As though he sensed her desire, Hunter brushed a kiss to her exposed neck. His breath slid across her skin, tickling and warm. Leda turned her head and their mouths met.
Hunter kissed her for a while, sliding his hand under her hair. He was in no way embarrassed to kiss her like this in front of Samantha, but he was an ancient being, having lived in times and places in which sex was not always taboo.
Samantha wasn’t watching them in any case. She kept her gaze out the window, her mouth turned down in worry. “It’s already gone to hell,” she said. “I shouldn’t have taken that leave of absence from my job.”
“Did they give you a choice?” Leda asked. Hunter continued to press small kisses to her neck, very distracting.
Samantha shook her head. “They’ve let the city become a war zone. Demons and vampires have always had territories, but they’re conquering the entire metropolitan area now, and the police are letting them.”
Hunter rumbled, “As the life magic drains, the death magic creatures get stronger. When the balance is broken, there will be chaos and then—nothing. Even the death magic will cease to exist.”
“Why would a demon want that?” Leda asked. “Why would he help obliterate everything, which I assume means himself as well?”
“I don’t know.” Hunter turned his head and looked out the window, his eyes narrowing. “Something isn’t right . . .”
He unwound himself from Leda and left the seat, reaching for the door handle. “Stop the car.”
“This is a bad place,” the driver said through the intercom. “Edge of demon territory.”
Hunter opened the door anyway. The driver let out a swear word and swerved the limo to the curb. Hunter’s feet touched the pavement the instant the car halted, his sword unsheathed in his big hands.
Leda climbed out behind him, looking around, but she saw nothing unusual. The street was lined with shut-up buildings and flickering street lights, the occasional car rushing past as though the driver was nervous to be out here.
Hunter moved away from the car and stood in the middle of the street, his feet planted on the painted yellow line. He held his sword ready as his gaze took in the closed shops and boarded-up apartments above them, the dark mouths of alleys.
The vampire driver hauled himself out of the car. “What the hell are you doing? This is a bad neighborhood. I can’t let something happen to the boss’s car, because you wanted to sightsee.”
Hunter ignored him. His massive shoulders worked as he brought the sword around slowly, much as he’d done when he’d performed his precision exercises on the beach. He lowered the blade and stood poised, listening.
“We’re missing something,” he said softly.
“Hunter,” Leda called. “He’s right. We need to go.”
Hunter stood still, preoccupied. He looked up one side of the street and down the other, then he turned and walked back to the car, his gait unhurried. Without a word he held the door open for Leda and climbed in behind her.
Before Hunter had the door shut, the driver swerved the limo out into the street. The door slammed from the momentum, and Hunter fell into the seat.
“What was that about?” Leda asked him.
Hunter gazed out of the window again, his sword at their feet. “The world is . . . wrong.”
“You said that before, when you first woke up in my house.”
“I feel it more strongly now. Something not right.”
“The draining of life magic,” Samantha suggested. “It’s changing everything.”
“Not only that.” The limo squealed around a corner and started to climb a hill. Hunter’s brows drew down over his green eyes. “I’ve never felt anything like this before. As though a veil of magic is hiding what’s real.”
“I think I’m glad I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leda said.
Hunter slanted her a glance. “You can’t feel it?”
“I can, but not like you’re implying. Sorry.”
He turned to Samantha, but she shook her head as well. “Hmm.” Hunter sat back without another word, but still looked uneasy.
They completed their journey in silence, unmolested by demons or other death magic creatures. The limousine wound up dark hills where only the richest could afford to live, and Leda gazed with interest at gated driveways leading to hidden houses.
After a long time, Septimus’s chauffeur swung into a circular drive, halting abruptly in front of a long, flat house with large double doors and few windows. The vampire revved the engine as the three in the back plus the lion climbed out. As soon as Hunter slammed the door behind them, the vampire took off, tearing out of the driveway and roaring into the street.
Leda glowered at the limo’s red taillights, which quickly vanished. “What’s his problem?”
Mukasa rumbled low in his throat, and Hunter ruffled his mane. “I know, my friend.”
“You know, our only mode of transportation just left,” Leda pointed out.
“There will be others,” Hunter said in his maddening wa
y.
Samantha rubbed her arms and shivered, though the May night was balmy. “This place reeks of life magic,” she said.
Leda looked with her witch senses and saw runes of wards glowing over the doors. She breathed the air coming off the sea and relaxed. “I like it.”
Samantha shivered again. “Easy for you to say. It’s heavily shielded against death-magic creatures.”
Hunter walked to the front door and opened it. Either it hadn’t been locked or a deadbolt was no match for his Immortal magic. “It will let you in,” he said. “Don’t fear it.”
He walked into the house, Leda close behind him. She heard Samantha drag in a breath then hurry behind Leda.
Leda found and flipped on the lights. The entry opened into a wide and airy living room, the entire back wall nothing but windows that gave onto the sea roaring below. Double doors on either end of the huge hall stood open, showing bedroom suites.
“Nice place,” Leda said. She’d never been in a house so big or luxurious.
“Leave it to Adrian to live like a prince,” Hunter said. “He always has to be decadent.”
He slid his arm around Leda’s waist and walked with her toward the bedroom on the east end of the house. Leda went willingly, exhausted from the day and the night. Hunter closed the doors, shutting out Samantha’s skeptical look from the other end of the hall.
The huge bed billowed with white sheets and pillows, the windows inviting the sea air, the kind of air that best enhanced Leda’s magic. Hunter explored the suite while Leda dropped her bag and fell backward onto the bed. Soft, clean-scented sheets caught her. She could lie here and drift for a long, long time . . .
“How many leather coats can one man own?” Hunter’s voice came, muffled, from the walk-in closet. “Big brother always has to be bad-ass.”
“At least you’ll maybe find a change of clothes,” Leda said around a yawn. “If you wear the same size as he does, that is.”
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