After a good cleaning she bandaged them, cleaned her face, pulled her hair into a ponytail, donned fresh clothes and then made her way to the front desk. The clerk quickly booked her a room and offered snacks, which she politely declined. Eating was not something she could do right now.
Once inside her room, she dropped the bag by the bed and landed on it, letting out the sobs she’d been fighting back.
Chapter 10
Dex trudged to his office chair and let the weight of his body drop him into it. Al and Greg stared at him in silence, recognizing the brooding glare.
“What happened after you left?” Al asked, pity in his eyes.
Dex monitored the screens, never taking his tired eyes off them. “She admitted everything. Said Serena crossed the line. That she wouldn’t have killed her if she hadn’t crossed it. Fed me lies about trying to live a normal life and not wanting to be an Arcane Hunter.”
“You like the girl?” Al asked carefully.
Dex turned his head, narrowing his eyes to slits. “She’s a liar and a hunter. Doesn’t matter what I thought of her, does it?”
Al turned his head back to the screens.
Greg swiveled his black leather chair to face Dex and leaned back, resting his head against it. “You know the best way to get a woman out of your head, don’t you?”
Dex could hear the suggestive undertone.
“You need to get a new one under you,” he finished.
Dex exhaled and squeezed the bridge of his nose.
“Look man, I’m sorry about Serena, but she was dancing with danger. If it hadn’t been Red that killed her it would’ve been another hunter.”
Dex stood from his chair, too irritated to listen anymore. “I’m gonna make my rounds.”
Greg and Al acknowledged him as he walked out the door.
Dex opened the metal door to the thumping of music and a small crowd of dancers on the floor. He edged along the outside, making his way to the bar. “Tara. How’s it going?”
The pretty, blonde with tight curls fluttered her lashes. “It’s good, Dex, really good. Wanna drink while you’re out here?”
Dex nodded. Usually he didn’t drink on duty, but he needed something to alleviate the aching in his skull. Tara handed him a shot glass full of whiskey. He washed it down and slid the empty glass over to her.
“Thanks, I needed that.”
She refilled the glass and slid it back to him. “I heard about Serena. Have another. It’s on me.”
Dex swallowed, savoring the bite at the end. “Looks like the main crowd hasn’t arrived yet,” he spoke over the music as he scanned the club.
“Yeah, it’s a slow start tonight. I don’t mind. It’s been crazy this week and I think everyone is a little jittery about a hunter having been in here. Did you get the hunter on video? Know what they look like?”
Tara’s words faded into the background as Dex stalked onto the dance floor. The woman’s long, auburn hair swung freely as she walked through the crowd. His heart beat quickened as did his steps. He reached out, grabbing her arm and turning her toward him.
A round-faced, brown-eyed woman stared back at him with curiosity.
“Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
Her eyes roamed over him, seemingly pleased with what she saw. “It’s okay. I don’t mind that you found me instead.”
Dex grinned. Greg’s words tickled his thoughts as did the warming sensation of the alcohol and this woman’s desire. “What’s your name?
“Jamie.”
He leaned in a little closer for a private share. “Ever been to the VIP area?”
She shook her head. “I’ve heard about it though.” She looked him up and down. “Are you giving the tour?”
“If that’s what you want?” Maybe Greg was right and all he needed to have was the feeling of another woman under him, her desire feeding him, refreshing his body with new vitality. Maybe then he’d forget Anya, forget he’d ever met her.
Jamie gave a wicked, seductive grin. This woman wasn’t naïve to flirting nor was she shy about her desires. Perhaps she was just what he needed. Dex put his hand on her lower back and escorted her to the metal door that led to the VIP side. He brought her to the waiting room and then left her to go into the champagne and candy room. He thought the name was tacky, but it was what the owner called it. The room where they prepped the alcohol and sweet treats, aphrodisiacs were what they really were.
He grabbed a small tray and read the board to see which room was free. He walked out to a bright-eyed and eager Jamie eyeing him. Yes, he definitely still had it. Her expression said it all. He set the tray down in front of her.
“Take whatever you’d like.” He winked.
The woman nearly bounced with excitement. “I’d like a little of you, actually a lot of you.”
Dex reached his hand out for her to take. Why keep the eager woman waiting? He put the key in the door and opened it. He hadn’t ever entered one of these rooms from this side. It was an odd feeling seeing the bed to the left, the chair, the pole that reached from floor to ceiling. The woman giggled.
“The bed,” she announced.
Dex swung her arm as if to dance with her and then tossed her onto it. “Whatever you want.”
The woman eyed him, waiting for the show. Dex lifted his shirt over his head and tossed it. The woman ran her hands along his abs, letting out little whimpers of pleasure. She unbuttoned his jeans, staring up at him. He gave her a grin letting her know it was okay to touch. She pulled at his jeans, peeling them off his hips. Her eyes widened when his erection popped up. She pawed at him, rubbing him. Giggles escaping her.
With the sensation of the alcohol coursing through him and her warm hand caressing him, his incubus need pulsed, ready to absorb this woman’s arousal. The scent of Jamie’s desire was strong, it rose to his nostrils, filled the entire space they occupied. His body reacted. His stomach coiled. It wasn’t right. She wasn’t right. Her desire was not a perfume to him like Anya’s was. It was the opposite, nearly repulsing him. He held his breath. He only needed a few minutes. He could suffer through it.
He took a breath and with that breath nausea pummeled his stomach. Thoughts of Anya paraded through his mind. Thoughts of wanting her body, not Jamie’s, of wanting Anya’s arousal pouring over him, wet and warm. Her beautiful, odd-colored eyes staring up at him as he took her. Dex squeezed his eyes and shook his head, shaking the thoughts of Anya from his mind. Another nauseating breath and he pulled himself from Jamie’s warm and eager stroking. He lifted his jeans over his hips.
“Sorry, Jamie, I just got paged. I’ll send another VIP staff member in to assure you’re satisfied and taken care of. I’ll throw in a free massage for the inconvenience.”
Jamie scowled at him, her eyes trying to burn holes in him.
He grabbed his shirt off the floor and rushed out. He adjusted himself and looked for Ryan. He found him in the champagne and candy room, restocking.
Dex put his hand on the wall, gulping each fresh breath. “There’s a woman in 2B. She gets a free massage on me. She’s a little pissed I just walked out on her so, yeah, good luck with that.”
Dex turned on his heels. He could feel Ryan’s eyes on his back.
“Not so fast.”
Dex turned to face him. His cheeks warm.
“Explain.”
“I took a client in there. It didn’t work out. She’s a…” He lowered his head and then looked back at Ryan. “Not my type. I’m not going into details. I got you a gig. If she’s too pissed to pay then I’ll…” Dex cringed. “I’ll pay for her.”
Ryan licked his lips, evidently getting enjoyment out of watching Dex squirm. “I’ll take care of her.”
“Thanks man.”
Ryan nodded, gathering a freshly stocked tray and making his way toward the door of 2B.
Dex walked down the hall out of sight and then stopped, leaning his head against the wall, taking a few breaths to ease the tension in his shou
lders and back. His jaw clenched as he thought of her. Thought of how good she felt beneath him, how delicious and sweet the scent of her desire was. What was wrong with him? Why could he not get this wretched hunter out of his mind?
The setting sun’s rays warmed the room, filling it with uncomfortable heat. She stretched her eyes open. Her swollen lids fought to stay closed. She moved her leg. The tight and painful wounds constricted her movement. She rolled over slowly, placing one leg on the floor, then the other. She stumbled to the shower and turned on the cool water. She dragged her aching body into it, placing her hands against the wall for support as the water soothed her muscles and washed away the dry blood.
After fresh bandages, a cool cloth to her eyes, and clean clothes, she made her way down to the lobby. She checked out and then headed for the nearest restaurant she could find. Starving for nutrition she piled her plate high with protein-rich foods from the buffet. As she shoveled the mountainous forkful into her mouth she searched the news for anything about the fire.
She found one article. The headline read: Fatal House Fire Takes Owner’s Life. The article described the death of a single man due to an electrical malfunction. She exited the article, her stomach knotting to the point she couldn’t finish eating. She dropped her fork and fought back the tears forming in her eyes.
It was no accident. The furor demons or half-blood demons had started the fire. Likely killed Dillon and then created the explosion. They’d been waiting for her when she ran out. Had the shadow walker informed them of where she’d gone? Was she being tailed?
Her phone buzzed in her back pocket. She pulled it out and was relieved to see Jackson’s name.
Where are you? I was hoping you’d be at the gym this morning so I could give you the apology you deserve. When you didn’t respond to my messages I came by your house. Obviously you’re not here.
I’m glad the enchantment has worn off. I drove to Dillon’s last night. Demons killed him, set his house on fire with me in it. I’m heading home shortly. I have one stop to make before I do.
Are you all right? I’m sorry about Dillon. Hurry back. I’m worried about you.
No, I’m not okay. I’ll explain when I see you.
She pocketed the phone and left a tip on the table. She popped a couple aspirins for the aching pain between her temples and headed to Dillon’s, or at least what was left of it.
She pulled into his driveway. The simple and beautiful log cabin was now black, burned and charred walls, a broken roof and remnants of furniture covered in ash. There was nothing salvageable left. Whatever Dillon had wanted to show her was undoubtedly gone. Whatever gifts she had that her brother didn’t would continue to be a secret only he knew.
She put her Jeep into reverse, wiping the tear escaping down her cheek. She slammed the brakes as a black car with black tinted windows pulled into the driveway behind her. She quickly shifted the Jeep, pulling it forward into the yard and then turning it around to face the approaching car. She moved along the driveway on the grass, giving the car the driveway. As she drove past it she couldn’t see who was inside. Nor did she want to wait and find out. She pressed harder on the gas pedal and fled.
On the open road again, her thoughts plagued her. She wished she could escape into a dream. A dream where there was warmth, comfort, love. She hadn’t known much of any of those things. She’d been surrounded by men and demons for years who carried none of those traits. Jackson was the closest thing to affection and love that she had, but that only filled the void so much. Her thoughts drifted to Dex. His kiss and his body was warmth. Incredible warmth. She wished she could slip into his arms and disappear from the world she lived in.
Everything Dillon had told her should sound preposterous, but sadly it didn’t. It almost didn’t surprise her at all. Had she spent so many years being a killer that she’d grown numb? Numb to shock, to fear, to love, to life?
The towering interstate lights grew brighter as the sun dipped below the horizon. Shadows crept out from the trees just outside of the interstate. The spaces between each interstate light grew darker, colder. She wished she’d stopped and zipped her top up over the Jeep. She turned the interior light on and a little heat. As the shadows grew darker, wider and more ominous, her chest tightened. Maybe she should have stayed the night at the hotel, but whoever was arriving at Dillon’s might’ve come looking for her next.
She turned on the music to fill the frightening silence. As her eyes glanced back at the road she saw it—movement in the shadows between the interstate lights. She passed another lamp and the shadows filled the road. She turned her high beams on, illuminating the road in front of her. Another lamp went by, then shadows, movement. Her heart pounded like a drum against her chest. Another swell of shadows and this time it was clearer, it swarmed the hood of her car, blocking her windshield. She couldn’t see the road.
Blinding darkness left her unable to keep her Jeep in the lanes. She heard a car honk, she jerked her steering wheel. Her Jeep lurched sideways, she corrected, slammed the breaks and then she felt herself tilting. The Jeep and her body were rolling sideways. It happened in seconds. Unable to capture the details, her brain watched absently as the sound of metal scraping metal exploded in her ears.
Her head smacked into the bar, then steering wheel, a bag exploded in her face. Her face hurt, her chest hurt, her head hurt. Warm liquid soaked her cheek. Her limbs thrashed around as the seatbelt held her chest and hips tight in a death grip, squeezing her insides together, smashing them into a blender. The Jeep finally came to a stop. Which direction it faced she couldn’t comprehend. The air around her seemed thick as though she was breathing through a damp cloth. Everything was hazy. Her body numb and in pain all at once—how was it possible?
An uncontrollable burning sensation scraped over her skin along her back, shoulder and arms. The tattoos became visible, dark brown almost black designs forming featherlike shapes. She screamed from the excruciating pain, but no words came out of her mouth. She was screaming on the inside. Or was she already dead, her spirit being torn from her body?
The burning pain increased, as if her skin was tearing away from her bones. The tattoos grew darker, raising from her skin, seeming lifelike. She lurched forward as something behind her spread, forcing its way out, giving itself the space it required. The seatbelt tore, snapping as it ricocheted off the Jeep bars.
Her body was lifting. Surely she’d died and her spirit was being carried on. To heaven? To hell? She did not know what awaited her next. Would she be able to see her body below? Be able to look down at it, bruised, bloody and lifeless?
Her body floated, drifting against the breeze and then her feet touched ground. Yes, ground. She could feel it, it was firm and smelled of earth. Something large, solid and dense smacked through the air behind her. It sent a flutter of air past her ears. Through the pain she forced her head sideways, glancing over her shoulder to see brown almost black wings closing in around her. They enclosed her body, folding over her skin, fading into her arms, becoming part of them. Then the lifelike feathers dissipated, becoming skin, becoming dark tattoos that didn’t disappear like they always had. Instead they remained, dark and beautiful in the shapes of feathers, in the shapes of wings.
Chapter 11
She blinked, bright lights filling her vision. The odor of plastic and chemicals filled her nostrils. Colors and shapes took form in front of her. The sound of an elevator dinged in the distance. She twitched her finger, then her hand. The tight restriction of tape and an IV stopped her hand movement.
“Anya.”
Her name sounded muffled.
“Anya, can you hear me?”
A familiar voice reached her ears.
“Yes,” she rasped.
Jackson took her free hand in his.
“You had me scared shitless, Awn. What happened?”
She wiggled her toes beneath the blanket, making sure she could still feel, still move. Relief swept over her. She glanced around the roo
m, ensuring it was just them.
“Shadow walker. It swarmed me while driving. I couldn’t see. I don’t remember everything. The details are still fuzzy.”
“It’s all right. Don’t try right now. The doctor said you have a concussion, a bruised rib, a few torn muscles, interior bruises, but nothing serious.”
Anya tried to let out a laugh, but it hurt too much. “Nothing serious?”
Jackson rubbed her hand, worry creeping into his eyes. “Yeah, nothing serious, thankfully.”
“How did you know I was here and in an accident?”
“I’m your emergency contact, remember?”
Anya smiled. “Yeah, that’s right, ICE, on my phone. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Now that you’re awake I can probably get you out of this place.”
“Please do. I’d like to go home.”
Jackson walked out and Anya eased herself into a sitting position. She glanced at the IV and followed the tube to the bag of clear liquid. She looked back down at the IV and gripped it, giving it a tug from her hand. She tossed it away, giving freedom to her sore, stiff hand. She wiggled her fingers and fisted her palm, working out the stiffness the IV had created.
She looked up toward the bathroom when she saw movement in the shadow. Her heart wrenched in her chest. Her skin burned fiercely and she grimaced as she looked down at her new dark tattoos that seemed to be raising off her skin. The memories flooded her. Wings. Her tattoos had turned to wings. Apparently they were instinctively reacting to the sight of a threat. She looked back toward the shadows, glowering at the shadow walker.
“That’s right, you and I have unfinished business. Don’t get to eager. I’m going to shred your demon body to pieces.”
Jackson walked back in, glancing in the direction her eyes were locked on.
“You good?” Jackson asked, glancing at her and then the shadows, then back to her.
She tore her eyes away as the demon faded.
“Yeah, I’m good. What’d the doctor say?”
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