Midnight's Master

by Cynthia Eden

  Demons, such as his brethren, were more than human. Stronger, faster, gifted with powers that normal men and women could only dream of in their wild fantasies. Some whispers said that demons came from the Fallen, those angels who’d had the bad luck to get their lily asses tossed out of heaven. Niol wasn’t real sure about the origin of his race, and, normally, he didn’t give a shit where he’d come from.

  He lived. He breathed. He had enough power to knock down a city block. Those were generally the only facts that mattered to him.

  The streets were slick with a light coating of rain. The tires flew across the pavement, sending water splashing.

  “You know about a demon’s power, don’t you, Holly?” He knew the reporter had been digging into the lives of the demons in the city. She’d learned about demons when she’d made the mistake of taking a killer on as a source a few months back. The woman had fed Holly information about the Other world, and, in the end, the lady had almost led to the reporter’s death.

  A near slaughter should have given Holly pause. She should have kept her cute little nose with its faint sprinkle of freckles out of demon business. But, no, she’d been poking and digging, and, from the look of that bloody scene he’d witnessed earlier that day, she was still getting the wrong folks to be her sources.

  And still walking straight into trouble.

  Just like she’d walked into his bar.

  “I know…some things.”

  Niol glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Streetlights flickered over her, revealing, then concealing, the elegant lines of her face.

  Her voice was hesitant, but not afraid. The woman should have been afraid.

  “I know,” she continued, voice soft but steady, “that the power varies for demons. Some are weak—”

  “Like your friend Carl.” Dammit. He’d known Carl. Had seen the young demon on the streets, in Paradise. Barely a level-three, Carl hadn’t been a threat to anyone.

  So there had been no need to slice and dice the poor bastard. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought a shifter’s razor-sharp claws had gotten ahold of the kid.

  “And some demons…” Speculation coated the words, “are much stronger.” A deliberate pause, then, “Like you.”

  Niol braked at a red light. Turned his head toward her. “Yes, love, like me.”

  In the demon world, there was a basic power scale. The generally accepted levels were from one to ten. Any demon with powers of one to three, well, that demon was barely stronger than a human. Gifted psychically, of course, as were all demons, but no real danger to society.

  Fours, fives, sixes, and sevens—they had enough power to be a damn nuisance. They could start fires. Control the winds. Even push lightly into the minds of humans, delving just deep enough to pick up thoughts and dreams.

  But it was the higher-end demons that humans, if they only knew, would really fear. Level-eights, or L8s, level-nines, and—

  “Just how strong are you, Niol?”

  The light turned green. He spared her a brief smile, one that he knew was cold and a little cruel. He stomped the gas. “Strong enough.”

  A level-ten. Higher, really, but he wasn’t the type to brag.

  Level-tens had gotten a reputation…back in the day. They’d been the ones to first make the mortals use words like “possession.” Because level-tens didn’t just have the ability to pick up a stray thought or two from humans, no, L10s could control humans. Completely.

  “I’m not afraid of you.” Calm. Cool. But he heard her fingernails scraping over the leather of his passenger-side door.

  A demon had slipped into her mind before. No, not slipped—stormed. Forced his way inside and left her helpless.

  The SUV began to shake.

  “N-Niol?”

  He sucked in a sharp breath. The shaking eased. Niol swung the steering wheel to the right and pulled to a stop in front of Holly’s tidy house.

  A flick of his wrist and the car’s engine died. He didn’t face her again, not yet.

  He let her lie hang in the air between them.

  One moment, two and—

  “I can hear your heart, you know,” he said softly, as his fingers tapped out a matching rhythm on the steering wheel. The beat became faster.

  “Shifters have the enhanced senses,” Holly said. “Demons just have the scary eyes.”

  Scary eyes. He turned toward her. They were parked close to a bright streetlight. She’d easily be able to see his eyes.

  The darkness of his stare.

  Most demons cloaked their true eye color with glamour, even the lower-level ones. They hid the black irises. The scleras. They tried to fit in and not scare the good humans.

  Fuck that. Niol didn’t really care if the sight of his true eyes made folks nervous. The way he figured it, if folks didn’t like his eyes, they didn’t have to look at him.

  And, well, hell, he liked scaring people. Was that such a bad thing?

  “I can hear your heart,” he repeated softly and let his eyes drift over her face, down her neck, to the spot where her pulse beat so frantically against her skin. “My senses aren’t as good as those animals’.” He’d never had much use for the shifters. “But my senses are one hell of a lot stronger than a human’s.” And that was how he’d known that someone else was in the alley with her. He’d smelled the stale scent of sweat. Heard the brush of a shoe against the side of a garbage can.

  And known that Holly Storm was being hunted.

  His back teeth locked. If anyone, anyone, was going to hunt the curvy redhead, it would be him.

  He lifted his eyes to meet hers, licked his lips, and realized he wanted another taste.

  The sample he’d had at Paradise had not been nearly enough to satisfy him. Not by a long shot.

  His fingers rose to trace the line of her cheek. Such soft skin. Silky. Delicate.

  He leaned toward her and damn if the woman didn’t inch toward him, too.

  Not what he’d expected.

  But then, the lady had been keeping him guessing from the beginning.

  His fingers slid down her cheek. Feathered over her lips. Her mouth parted and her breath rasped over his fingertips.

  Their eyes were still locked. “Holly Storm,” he whispered, “you want me.”

  She flinched, but made no move to back away.

  His cock pushed hard against the back of his zipper. Her fragrance, perfume, woman, that lavender scent he was coming to crave, had his nostrils flaring.

  “You want me,” he continued, voice lowering, “but you’re scared as hell of me.”

  He waited for another lie. Waited to hear it fall from her lips.

  Instead, she smiled at him. Flashed a dimple in her right cheek, and had his heart thumping into his chest. “Course I’m scared, Niol.” With a snap, her slender fingers unhooked her seatbelt. But she didn’t try to leave the car. Instead, she closed the distance between them, until only an inch separated their mouths. “Knowing what you are, I’d be a fool if I wasn’t ‘scared as hell.’”

  Her lips trembled as she spoke the words, but her voice was steady.

  Of course, she feared him. She’d seen him kill. Destroy. She’d seen—

  Her hand rose. Touched his cheek.

  His cock jerked.

  “And I do want you.” Her lips brushed over his, just the faintest of touches.

  Dammit. Not nearly enough. Not—

  She pulled away from him, fumbled with the door handle. “But wanting isn’t enough for me.” The door opened with a squeak, sending the chilled night air flooding the interior of the vehicle. Holly pushed to her feet, flashing thigh, fucking gorgeous thigh, right at him.

  Oh, he wanted a bite. A very, very big bite of her.

  Growling, he nearly ripped open his door as he fought to get out of the SUV. By the time he rounded the front of the vehicle, Holly was hurrying up her sidewalk.

  “Holly.”

  She froze. The wind lifted her hair.

 
“You came to me.” A reminder she shouldn’t need.

  Her head turned. Her gaze met his. “Not for sex.”

  A damn disappointment.

  Holly’s chin lifted. Stubborn. “You know why I came to Paradise.”

  Niol’s hands fisted. “You need to stay out of Other business.” Before she got herself hurt.

  Killed.

  The rest of the demons out there wouldn’t play as nicely with her as he had.

  And the vamps wouldn’t hesitate to bite.

  Then he’d have to stake the bastards.

  “I’m not the only killer in the darkness, love. You need to watch your step.” A fair warning.

  She swallowed. “Tell me, did you…know him?”

  The kid. The fool demon who’d been too soft. Niol didn’t answer. “You did,” he said instead and wondered just how close Holly had come to her source.

  Her shoulders squared. “Carl was a good man—”

  “Demon.”

  “—he didn’t deserve to die that way.”

  “Most folks don’t deserve the way they die.” Simple fact. He’d seen rapists die gently in their sleep. Seen kindly grandmothers get shot down in the streets. Life wasn’t fair and neither was death.

  “I’m not going to forget about him.” Shadows were all around her. Darkness waiting.

  “Then don’t.” Blunt. Hard. “Report his death. Talk about what a good man he was, remember him when you’re curled up at night and trying not to think about just what is out there on the streets.” He exhaled on sigh. “But don’t, don’t go digging into his murder.”

  Her head tilted to the left. The streetlight shot over her cheekbone, leaving a hollow of shadow. “Sounds like an order.”

  Because it had been.

  “But I’m not one of your little bar minions. I don’t take orders from you.”

  That was going to be a problem.

  “I could make you, you know.” The words slipped out, but they were true. It would take only a minute’s concentration. He could slip into her mind, force her compliance, and—

  “Been there, done that.” Rage shook her words, trembled her body. “If you want to try that method on me, then go ahead. But I think you’ll find I’m not such easy prey—this time.”

  The memory of her, the memory of the night an incubus had trapped her mind and tried to steal her life, flashed between them.

  Niol knew he was a bastard. He’d never denied it. But for an instant, he almost felt…

  Shame.

  Fuck.

  The woman was messing with his head.

  “Don’t make me force the issue.” Because he wouldn’t have her blood on his hands. Damn. Why did he even care? He should be shoving his way into her mind, blocking out the memory of the dead demon. But she made him hesitate.

  She’d caught his attention months ago. Hell, he’d been drawn to her the first time he flipped on the television and seen her face staring back at him. Holly had been broadcasting about some pileup on Peachtree, and all he’d been able to think about was the fire of her hair.

  Stupid.

  Horny.

  That was him.

  He’d taken a redhead that night. Picked up one of the humans who wanted to play at his bar. He’d taken her, closed his eyes, and imagined the reporter from News Flash Five.

  Insanity. Yes, it ran in his family.

  He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her, fantasizing about her. He’d even taken to watching the news—

  And he hated the local news. Yet he liked to watch her.

  “Don’t make you?” She repeated and he saw her breasts—nice, firm breasts—heave as she sucked in a breath. “Why don’t you just try to force me to—”

  In an instant, he’d closed the distance between them. His fingers locked around her arms, tight. Too strong. He jerked her up against him and glared down at her. “This is no game.” Even after all that had happened, she still didn’t understand how vulnerable she was.

  She could die so easily.

  Just as Gillian had died. His half sister had been a demon, with a demon’s power, but even she hadn’t been strong enough to fight the killers that hunted in the night.

  “I’m not going to back off this story.” Holly’s lips tightened. No hint of the dimple showed now. Pity. “I am going to find out who killed Carl. I came to Paradise, to you, because I thought you’d want to help me.”

  “You thought wrong.” Then, because it might just be his last chance and because, well, he wanted to taste her again, with the lights of the stars shining above them, he kissed her.

  Holly’s lips were parted, her mouth open as she prepared to berate him, and, oh, but the sweet human tasted good.

  His tongue stroked into her mouth. Taking, demanding a response from her.

  And the lady sure gave him one.

  Her mouth widened. Her tongue snaked out to meet his. The explosion of hunger hit him then, like a fighter’s punch in his gut, and his already erect cock stiffened even more.

  Her breasts pressed against him. He could feel her tight nipples nudging against his shirt. Her hands were on his arms, wrapping around his biceps, squeezing.

  Not fighting. No, Holly wasn’t pushing against him, not trying to break loose—

  She was trying to get closer.

  Just as he was.

  Her mouth fit him. Her lips, soft, full, felt right against his. Her tongue…ah, the lady knew how to use her tongue. Knew how to stroke. How to torment.

  How to drive him even wilder.

  Maybe the human did want to play. Absolutely-damn-perfect—

  Holly tore away from him, wrenching out of his arms and stumbling back. “No.” Her wide eyes watched him.

  With hunger.

  With horror.

  Ah, now that look wasn’t anything new. He’d seen it more than his share of times.

  Yet he still found himself stiffening.

  He didn’t like for her to look at him that way.

  She lifted a hand to her lips, as if to wipe away his taste, and Niol’s eyes narrowed.

  “You think…” Holly began slowly, then stopped and swallowed. “You think you can threaten to fuck my mind…then try and fuck me?”

  He didn’t speak. What would he have said?

  “No. I’m not one of your demon-wannabe sluts, Niol. I don’t want to jump you in the dark so that I can have the thrill of saying I screwed a monster.”

  Hit. The reporter obviously understood more than she’d pretended about the human women who came to his bar.

  “I don’t want to play—”

  “Yes, Holly, you do.” Her heart still pounded too fast, her nipples were still pebbled, and her cheeks were flushed—all from hunger.

  Need. For him.

  “I’m not going to play.” Her hand dropped. “I’m going to do my job—and find out what happened to Carl. With or without your help.”

  He stared at her. Such a shame. They would have been good together. The sex, well, it would have been pretty phe-nomenal. All that fire she had—oh, yeah, phe-nomenal.

  Pity.

  Niol shook his head. “Sorry, love, it’s going to be ‘without.’” Then he did the only thing he could do.

  He turned around and walked away from her.

  As he stalked toward the SUV, he felt her eyes on him.

  His hand lifted, reached for the door.

  “Niol.”

  Oh, but the woman’s voice could get to him. It was the soft huskiness when she said his name. Like a stroke right over his cock.

  But he didn’t look at her. Niol opened the door.

  “You have to care.” Her voice sharpened. “You play the bastard, but Carl was little more than a kid, and one of yours. You have to care—”

  The laughter escaped then. He just couldn’t help it. He stepped back and glanced over at her. “Have you forgotten so soon, sweet? The incubus who took you that night, he was one of my kind, too—and I burned him,” the fire had been so
beautiful, “from the inside out.”

  She flinched.

  His lips were twisted in a smile that he knew could chill. “I kill my kind.” The incubus hadn’t been the first, and he wouldn’t be the last. “I don’t go out on a crusade to save them…or any humans who are dumb enough to get involved in a world they can’t understand.”

  “You’re a cold bastard, Niol.”

  So he’d been told.

  “I’m not going to walk away. I’ll find out what happened—”

  He climbed into the SUV. He couldn’t spend any more time with her. Not out in the open.

  You never knew who watched in this city.

  He had spies, but so did the other powerful SBs who fought for control of Atlanta.

  SBs…supernatural beings, or, as Holly would probably have said, supernatural bastards.

  He didn’t look at her as he cranked the engine and drove away. Didn’t look back. Long ago, he’d learned not to look back.

  Poor Holly Storm. He’d tried to warn her. Now, she was going to find death.

  Or death would find her.

  Chapter 3

  So she’d struck out with the demon. Not the biggest surprise in the world.

  The next day, Holly stood on a street corner in what was so not the best part of the city. She’d hoped to score big by forming a partnership with one of the most respected—okay, feared—demons in Atlanta. Sure would have helped out her investigation. But since Niol had made it abundantly clear he only wanted her for sex, he wasn’t an option.

  Although the thought of sex with Niol had been playing through her mind and her dreams for weeks.

  Dammit. Sexy. Scary. She’d really never been attracted to bad boys. Not her type. Her ex-fiancé was a professor at Mellrune University. She liked smart men. The sophisticated guys.

  The guys who made her feel safe.

  Or, they did until, like Zack, they started screwing around on her with students.

  Asshole.

  What a jerk he’d—

  “You shouldn’t be here.”

  The husky words, coming from right behind her, made Holly jump.

  She turned and came face-to-face with a man, the top of his head and most of his body covered by a long cloak. His face, whiter than the snow she saw too rarely, was swollen, his lips blood red.