“You should’ve let me fall.”
Twenty-Eight
“I didn’t know what else to do.” Davyn’s words were nothing compared to her cries. His entire body locked as he fought his need to comfort her, make sure she was whole. He’d caused this. He’d seen her falling and had reacted, phasing into midair just below her, not thinking about what would actually happen when he touched her, only knowing what would happen if he didn’t.
He’d let go of her as soon as he could, phasing them through a wall into an empty apartment two floors down from hers. But demons couldn’t phase with another being. It was too much for their glamour to handle at once—needing to be corporeal to hold onto someone didn’t jibe with the way they traveled, even over short distances. And the effect was enough heat to scorch, if not to kill.
She rocked back and forth, her screams diminishing into sobs. The pain her tears caused him was excruciating, but he was more concerned with her. He was immortal. She wasn’t. His heat could’ve done more than just hurt her. It could be killing her already, slowly, painfully.
“I couldn’t let you die.” He slid down the wall, his eyes never leaving her, feeling a pain of his own, comforted by knowing that at least hers would heal. “Couldn’t watch you...” But maybe he already was. A longer, drawn-out death that he was responsible for. No, she was tough. She’d heal. It would just take time. Time she would spend in pain, crying because of his touch.
Even though fate was bullshit, the chances of him being in the alley at the exact moment she jumped…
What the fuck? Why’d she do that?
As long as she was suffering, he couldn’t calm himself enough to cool down. He searched for a mind nearby and found one. But it wouldn’t work, not with the amount of shit he was dealing with now. The one time he couldn’t find dozens of people who wanted to destroy each other was when he needed them most. Motherfuckers. Although, even if he’d found enough of them, he wasn’t sure he’d use them. The hunter would’ve been pissed at him for it, and she already had enough reason to hate him.
He could practically hear her voice saying some bullshitty bullshit like, “My life isn’t worth more than anyone else’s.”
Wrong.
He spoke to her instead, trying to distract them both until he could touch her.
“Keira,” he called softly, scooting towards her. She whimpered and pulled away. He stopped, her fear hitting him deeper than any blade could. “I’m not going to touch you. Not until—Not ever if you don’t want me to. I could get you help, send someone back here, and then stay away. Just tell me what you want.” He’d never felt more powerless, more helpless. By the time he could get a healer here, the physical damage would be done. The hunter would either be able to handle it or she wouldn’t. “Tell me what I should do!”
“Stay,” she whispered.
So he stayed. Until she stopped crying, and then until she started shivering—an unconscious reaction to the burns and the shock. He hadn’t calmed down much, but he’d cooled some. Not enough to touch her, though. Her skin still needed time to heal, her nerves to adjust to the ambient temperature.
He turned away, feeling a jolt of heat, from anger this time. If she hadn’t jumped out of the fucking window, he wouldn’t have had to pretend he was a good guy. He wouldn’t have hurt her. Maybe he should’ve just let her fall. If she wanted to die, she should’ve—
“Why?” Why after what had happened between them? “Why right after we…?”
“Because he thought we were getting too close.” She looked at him, her eyes shiny and red from all the tears. “So he—”
“Lamere?” He shifted to his feet. “Lamere did this?”
She nodded slowly, obviously a lot smarter than him. He’d just proven how clueless he was. She was a fighter, and fighters don’t give up. “He was waiting for me.”
“That fucker.” Davyn was a half-second from phasing up to her apartment to unleash all his heat on the vamp if the prick hadn’t run off already, when he heard her shout. Quietly but as intense as he’d ever heard her.
“Stay with me!” Then her volume dropped. “Please. What if…I can’t…I need you with me, Davyn. Please?”
He let out a big what-the-fuck-should-I-do sigh and tried not to think about what her request meant. Surefire way to make a demon overthink something: Tell him not to think about it and then stop him from doing what he was best at—hurting things.
He should be out there trying to find the other bastard whose fault this was, the guy she’d been chasing forever. Why did she want him here? To protect her if Lamere came back? Or was there another reason? One both of them refused to contemplate too long. He’d already hurt her enough.
It was a long time before her tears dried and she spoke again. “Did you think I decided to jump out the window for the hell of it? Or because you wouldn’t sleep with me?”
“Well, look who’s feeling well enough to give me shit about my ego.” That was good. He’d take every insult she had if it meant she was okay.
“No amount of pain would stop me from doing that.” Her smile quickly turned into a grimace.
“How bad is it?”
She paused, but her body kept shaking. “Pretty bad.”
“Liar.” He could tell it was a lot worse than that by the way she struggled with the words. “How bad is it, hunter?”
“Really, really, really bad.” Her jaw and eyes clenched shut, tears squeezing through, along with a whimper. “I’m not sure I can handle—”
“You can handle anything. Don’t fucking wuss out on me, hunter.” Was this experience over yet? Whatever had to happen to make it be, he’d do.
“I’m scared, Davyn. I don’t want to die.” Human ears would’ve missed it. Even his demon ears struggled to hear it, or maybe just didn’t want to hear it. That she’d admitted it made it ten times more important. And that she trusted him enough to tell him the truth…?
“I’m…” He swallowed. “I’ve never tried to—wanted to—help anyone before. So I didn’t know how bad I would be at it.” What the hell was he saying? “I wish you hadn’t had to find out the hard way.” As soon as each word came out of his idiot mouth, he forgot what it had been—probably better that way. Probably the only way for him to be completely honest, because he was way past the thinking-rationally stage. Or feeling rationally.
“Are you still hot?” she asked.
“A little. Probably more than you can handle at this point. You want me to—?”
“Come here.”
Okay. Not the direction he thought she’d pick. “You sure?”
“Get the fuck over here, demon.”
He crawled towards her, knowing there was nothing he wouldn’t do to take her pain away, and that he was connected to her in an unearthly way. Danger didn’t matter, that it was forbidden didn’t matter. She would mean his destruction, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
She reached out. When he’d caught her, he hadn’t touched her hands, so the skin on them was unblemished, perfect. “Closer.”
He did as she asked until he was a foot away. There was nothing but silence around them, the still air a heavy presence between them.
“I thought you said demons couldn’t cry.”
“What?” The fuck. He wiped wet from his cheek and studied it. “I didn’t think we could.” How well could he know anything when none of his kind had ever experienced something like this before? They were controlled by their Master, told who they were, why they existed, the only things they were capable of or allowed.
Davyn wanted to be more, different, better. Only fifty years topside. Was this why? Because that’s how long it took the brainless idiot who thought he was not only immortal, but was also invincible, to realize he wasn’t? Because all it took was a tiny mortal to defeat him, to make him understand how powerful that defeat could make him feel.
“Tell me how to take away your pain,” he whispered. “Teach me what to do.”
“You can’t take
away my pain. And that’s okay. I just want you to be with me, stay with me. ’Kay? Close but don’t—don’t touch me.”
He nodded, coming as close as he could without making contact with her skin, just until she receded unconsciously. “I’m sorry.”
She ran her fingertips along his jaw to his lips, tracing them slowly. Then she leaned towards him, her body still wrapped around herself, and kissed him gently. “I’m alive because of you. There’s nothing to forgive you for.” She kissed him again, this time more deeply. He felt her hands on his face, his neck, pulling him in. He kept his arms at his sides, still afraid of burning her. But when she opened her mouth, her tongue brushing his, telling him he was allowed, that he could, he showed her how much he...
Loved her.
Did he? Demons didn’t love, so he had nothing to compare it to. But it was so much more than he’d ever felt before—a millennium, an eternity more. And he would spend that eternity in Nine if it would keep her safe.
Davyn had done unimaginable things to reach the surface of the earth, to have the freedom he did. He’d never looked back, never done anything that might threaten his place in this world. Until he met her.
When he pulled away, just to look at her face while he did the whole emotional breakup, or breakdown, or whatever it was called, she looked afraid.
“Don’t leave me,” she said.
“I—” He knew she meant right now, but he kissed her anyway. So he didn’t have to tell her that, in just a little while, it wouldn’t be his choice anymore.
Twenty-Nine
Over the next few days, Davyn took care of her, doing what he could while her body healed. He’d taken Keira back to his place so she could recover somewhere Lamere didn’t know about, putting up new wards just in case. Plus, since he lived here, it didn’t seem quite as completely idiotic that he rarely left her side. If he admitted the real reason, she’d laugh. Fuck, he’d be laughing for days if it wasn’t himself he’d be laughing at. A demon and a human. Not a good combo. Impossible combo if either of them wanted to live much longer.
When the big man’s second warning came, Davyn collapsed. Luckily, he was alone in the kitchen and could curl up on the tile floor and wait for the pain to pass. That took long enough to make him realize something. He couldn’t go back—not yet, not ever. If he stayed topside past his expiration date, the boss would pull him down, and he wouldn’t be a danger to Keira. Or anyone else. Ever again.
Once he could move, he spent a long time sitting with his head in his hands.
“Are you okay?” she asked, crouching down next to him, wearing only her ‘human’ shirt and some socks. So fucking beautiful.
“You shouldn’t be up. You need to rest.”
“I’m fine.”
“I said you shouldn’t be up.” She laughed as he pulled her into his lap as if they were regular people. No amount of pain the Devil could inflict would make him forget or regret this. “Remember the first deal we made?”
“The questions?”
“I still have two.”
“Okay.”
He massaged her neck with one hand and her thigh with his other. “Promise me you’ll do whatever you have to do to stay safe. No matter what it is.”
“That’s not a question.”
He knew the rules, but he didn’t want to scare her. Because hopefully what he was worried about would never happen. “Fine. Will you please promise me you’ll do whatever it takes to stay alive?”
“Don’t I always?’
“This isn’t a joke, hunter. Just promise me.”
“Okay. I promise. What’s the last question?’
“I don’t have one.”
“Then can I have it?”
“My question?” he asked, amused. “Sure.”
She squirmed in his lap as if she thought there should be some space between them but didn’t actually want it bad enough to get up. “If it were possible…you know, for a human and a demon, would you—?”
“Yes. Yes, to everything.”
“I didn’t finish asking.”
“You shouldn’t waste the question on something so obvious. Yes, to everything.” He kissed her because demons didn’t kiss, because he didn’t want to be a demon, because he didn’t want to leave her.
“Wow,” she said, pulling away. “You forgot humans need to breathe occasionally.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you breathing…heavily.”
She laughed without him, stopping when she realized it. “What’s going on with you?”
He hated how weak she made him, but they didn’t have much more time. So he didn’t want to hold back, to hesitate or worry about the longterm effects, because there was no long term. This was it for him. In two weeks—max—all this would be a memory, and even that wasn’t for sure. Maybe once he was down there, he wouldn’t be allowed to remember anything beautiful. But that wasn’t her problem and if he told her, she’d probably want to spend a lot of time talking about it. And he wasn’t that human-ish.
“I’m only being nice because I feel bad for the third-degree burns. Once you’re all better, I’m kicking you out and going full-on glutton with people’s minds.”
“Are you trying to make me jealous?” she asked, smiling as she stood.
He decided to give her a few minutes before he followed her into his room, giving himself a little time to contemplate the meaning of nothing. But when she came back out only a few minutes later, fully clothed with her hair slicked back and her boots on, he regretted every bit of thinking he’d ever done.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“A dive bar on Lincoln Avenue,” she said calmly. “When those vamps thought I was dead, one of them mentioned taking me to Lincoln Avenue where a guy named Jimmy could clean me up. Then Lamere would think I’d been stabbed when he found my body. There just happens to be a bar called Jimmy’s so I thought I’d check it out.”
“Where they were going to dump your dead body. How is that supposed to make me feel better about you going?”
“It’s not.” She pulled two stakes out of her bag, checked their strength, then put them back. “It’s supposed to explain where I’m going and why.”
“No.”
Her jaw dropped open. “Excuse me? Lamere thinks I’m dead. Again. You don’t seriously think I’m going to stay here and wait for him to realize I’m alive and come find me, do you?”
“No, I’m seriously hoping you’ll take your head out of your ass and let me go after him alone.”
“Wow. You’re not my father, or my boyfriend, or even my boss. So fuck off.” She grabbed her bag and tossed it over her shoulder, pushing past him on her way to the door. “This is why demons don’t have relationships. Because they think they’re the only ones who can do anything right.”
“Demons don’t have relationships because relationships suck! And we don’t have a relationship, hunter. We have a…a thing.”
“A relationship.”
“Stop using that word!”
“Go steal a dictionary, demon. Then you’ll finally understand that using the word doesn’t mean I want to settle down and have demon-spawn with a guy who won’t even put out. And not using the word doesn’t mean we forget the other exists. And no word in the English language means you get to tell me what to do.”
He grabbed her when she bounced off his chest. “We have a thing that means I’d rather not watch you die.”
That stopped her. For about five seconds.
“Okay, I guess that’s a pretty big thing. But now you need to put your big thing away, so we can go hunting.” She spun and headed out the door. “If we team up, you won’t have to watch me die.”
Fuck, he hoped that was true. And he prayed that, if it happened, he wouldn’t be the one who killed her.
Thirty
Keira couldn’t go back to her place for weapons. Luckily, even if she wasn’t paranoid enough to spread their locations out, she had too many to keep them all in
the one place.
“Is this how you do all your hunting?” Davyn asked as they walked down the long cement corridor of the self-storage place, smacking the locks against the metal doors just to make noise. At least they’d stopped arguing. “It’s fun. Ineffective, but fun.”
She didn’t bother glaring at him, stopping in front of her unit and spinning the combination lock. “I need some more equipment.” She dropped the volume of her voice when she saw the security guard at the end of the aisle. “Stakes, lights, chain, that kind of stuff.”
“We should go.” His whole body was tight, facing the guard until the man shuffled away.
“Relax. He’s a seer—all the staff here are. That’s why I come here.” But she whispered anyway, because she’d never trust anyone that much.
“I didn’t like the way he was looking at me.”
“I’m sure he felt the same way—you’re a demon, remember? Besides, you’re so unattractive, I would’ve thought you’d be used to being stared at.” The door stuck until she kicked it open. “We can go as soon as I get my stuff.”
He looked around the 10’x10’ space in awe. Bins of stakes, a sanding wheel to make them, all her knives sheathed and carefully lined up side by side. She may not care about how she looked, but she took great pride in her workspace, as small as it was. Davyn was so big, he barely had enough room to turn around, but when he did, he saw the fifty-pound bags of salt leaning up against the wall. “Ouch. That’s not for me, is it?”
“Only if you deserve it.” She showed him the knife handles she’d made, trying not to blush at his compliments.
“A vamp should be honored to get one of these in his chest.” Davyn might not use weapons, but he knew quality when he saw it.
“Shut up,” she said, pulling out a large duffel bag and throwing stuff inside. She’d been caught underprepared the last time she fought. It wouldn’t happen again. When she had about all she could comfortably carry, she tossed another flashlight in and then hoisted it over her shoulder.
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