Emotions, deep and so sharply sweet they cut her like a knife, rose to the surface of Casey’s heart. This impossible man, so strong and powerful when awake, was defenseless against this heinous, spiteful monster, and she knew it left him helplessly infuriated.
Seething anger for Clay, for Naomi, whooshed through her.
And then things got freaky. Her horns shot from her head, but they felt much heavier than they ever had before, making her head wobble momentarily. When she caught a glimpse of the hand that held Hildegard in place—well, that was pretty freaky- deaky, too. Covered in shades of variegated green, her hands were no longer hands, but claws, razor sharp and long.
Her feet, which had raced toward Hildegard like she owed her money, were no longer an average size eight, but webbed and, in her opinion, butt- ass ugly. Long-toed and wrinkled, they’d stomped their way toward Hildegard, leaving gaping holes in the floor as she went.
When she screamed Hildegard’s name, she sounded a whole lot like Darth Vader.
Jazzy.
Bolts of a powerful wrath she’d not known she was capable of, not even since she’d been turned, exploded in her. Determination pushed her. Incited, she slogged toward the bitch who wanted to take her mate from her.
And all this but for one goal: to keep Hildegard from getting to the opening of the refrigerator before she did.
But more than anything, to see Hildegard pay—painfully.
Archibald appeared from the debris of the littered chairs, dragging, grunting, pulling himself toward the hole in the wall—toward Clay. His eyes caught hers, sweat glistening his forehead, he held something up in a flash of coppery metal. Each square inch he covered, his ankle dragged behind him, scraping the hard floor.
The others were too busy fending off flying demons to help him, and that meant she had to get this right. Two for the price of one. Whatever Archibald was up to, his eyes had sent a desperate message she had no time to decipher.
Approaching Hildegard, Casey howled, high, screeching, throwing her shoulders back and looking to the Heavens before her gaze settled on the woman who’d wrought so much terror and pain for centuries. “Didn’t you hear me when I said he’s mine, you bitch?” The words that flew from Casey’s mouth left behind a hot stench, blowing Hildegard’s hair like the out-of-control wind of a tornado.
With wild defiance, Hildegard stared back at her. “I heard you, and I warned you. And now, because you just can’t let things alone—I’ll kill you,” she raged. Cocking her hand, she flattened Casey to the floor in one fluid motion.
As Casey struggled with her new form, bulky and awkward, Hildegard made her move, leaping across the hole and straight for Clay.
Her teeth flashed in the gloom of the refrigerator, her hair flew behind her in a platinum sheet of tangled strands, her limbs like those of some demented crab.
Landing on Clay without even stirring him, she bent her head low toward his neck.
Casey rushed her, but not before Archibald rose up on one arm and flung something in Hildegard’s direction with a weak but hard-won grunt.
Unleashed, it smelled of death and decay, slicing through the air in an arc of stench and a watery, unidentifiable substance.
Casey gagged from the stink, throwing a hand to her mouth. A hand that wasn’t scaly anymore. Lifting her head, sluggish and heavy, she heard Archibald holler, “Be done with, you vile creature!”
Hildegard shrieked her anguish, collapsing to the floor of the refrigerator in a smoking, vaporous heap but inches from Clay.
Casey fell back on her elbows in weary disbelief, her eyes clouded by the sweat that poured from her forehead. “Archibald! Talk to me, are you okay?”
“Oh, indeed, Miss,” was his drained reply, weak and trembling. “In fact, at this very moment, I’m thanking Gilad and his Bodies in Motion workout. For surely, he instilled in me a determination I wasn’t aware I possessed.”
Casey pushed off the floor, dragging her battered body to where Archibald lay next to Clay. He held his hand out to her and she took it, gasping for breath, pressing it to her cheek. “Arch? How? I mean, what? I mean—”
“Do you remember all the snide remarks behind my back about the stench in the kitchen and my cooking, Miss?”
Her response was a guilty wince.
“Clearly we understand each other, and I won’t express the deep sadness I felt that you were so unwilling to try even one of my dishes as a result. Though, in my defense, that odor was not without reason. Suffice it to say, I know a little something about various legends. I was, after all, a manservant for many years. We listen, but rarely speak. We observe, but rarely offer commentary. For all the times I quieted a response, I have schooled myself in the ways of the paranormal. What I learned, though not always as useful as this endeavor has proven, was that there are ways to end the mating bond that have absolutely no retribution when committed by someone who is not the mated. That someone is me. I am neither vampire, nor werewolf, and certainly nothing as vile as demon. No offense to your charmingly disarming scales, of course. I’m a human, and never was I so thankful.
“All that was left was to investigate the properties that would eradicate our problem without brute force on my part, because as skilled a teacher as Gilad, no abdominal crunch in the land could prepare one for the likes of that vile creature. Thus, I brewed a potion, if you will—mixed with powerful herbs, sacred and blessed by many before you or I. Henceforth, you suffered the product of the stench in my kitchen. I do hope you won’t judge my cooking so harshly and without a care for my tender feelings in the future,” he finished with a rare grin.
Casey began to laugh, pulling herself up and hugging Archibald hard. “Oh, Arch, you’re a genius! So what does this mean?”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “It means we no longer must suffer the foul temper of Master Clayton due to his distress over that hateful beast. It means the tender Naomi, in all her teenage angst, can go on being sullen and pouty for many years to come. It also means that you are now well and truly mated to Clayton. I shall assume that doesn’t displease you, judging from the chorus of pleasurable squeals ringing throughout Miss Marty’s apartment?”
Her face flushed red. It didn’t displease her. Not even a little. “You heard that, too?”
“Again, Miss, I hear everything, much to my chagrin.”
“And mine,” she said with a laugh.
“Jesus,” someone commented from the door. “I swear to Christ, Clay could sleep through an atom bomb.”
Their heads popped up to find everyone had gathered at the hole she’d torn in the wall. “You know what, kiddo,” Nina remarked with a tired grin. “Today, more than ever, I’m fucking glad I’m a vampire. You might be able to eat, but you are one butt-ugly bitch all scaled and horned out. I’ll stick to blood and fangs.”
Both Wanda and Marty were covered with Heath and Keegan’s jackets, pale and lines of weary exhaustion on their faces. Wanda’s smile was warm, her eyes shimmering from the battle. “You were really something there, Case. Pretty vigilante when you’re feeling protective, aren’t you?”
Casey wiped the sweat from her brow with her forearm. “Me?” She shook her head, accepting the offer of Nina’s hand to help her rise. “Uh, no. You two are pretty fierce all werewolfed. If I had any doubts left about this paranormal thing, they’re gone. That was insane. But thank you. Thank you, all. I never would have been able to do what needed doing if not for you—most especially Arch here. And what was that in the hose? It burned.” She held up her hand so they could see the red slashes.
“Holy water,” Darnell said from behind everyone with his signature cackle. “Damn lucky I didn’t get none of that on me, too. Shit hurts, but it sho works on those fuckers, huh?”
“So now what? What do we do with her?” Casey asked, pointing to Hildegard’s crumpled body at Clay’s feet.
“You give her to me, mon,” a voice from thin air said.
Come, Mr. Tallyman . . .
CHAPTE
R 20
Casey’s fists balled up. “You! You better stay the fuck away from us, or I’ll blow your ass from here to Hoboken!”
Everyone smushed protectively up against Casey, but she was in no mood to be coddled. “I swear I’ll do it if you don’t go the hell away and take her with you!” she ordered.
Instead of heeding her demand, he knelt beside Archibald, his long braids, colorfully beaded, swinging over his shoulders. “Old mon, you okay?” His voice held concern and sympathy; his smile was warm and toothy.
Archibald slapped him on the back with affection. “I’m well, Master Marcus. You’re to be commended for your potion making. Those herbs packed just the right amount of punch, lad. Now, please, do as you promised and dispose of this . . . your intended.”
“His intended?” Casey asked with disbelief.
Archibald nodded. “Why, yes, Miss. Marcus was the shaman Master Clay was to meet in the bar the night he ran into you and this all began. Naturally, he appeared in a different form to Clayton so as to keep his deception a secret. Marcus here has a sweet spot for—for her.” He pointed a gnarled finger in Hildegard’s direction, distaste clear on his face. “Truly, there’s nothing like unrequited love to motivate one, wouldn’t you agree, Marcus?
“Marcus was the demon Hildegard signed a contract with. He was young, and alas a fledgling, willing to do whatever necessary to climb the ranks in Hell. When he made the contract with Hildegard, he fully expected she would end up having to mate like everyone else—with another demon, of course, and his hope was that she would mate with him. But she’s a crafty one, as we all are aware. Thus, Marcus has waited all these years with love in his heart until the right opportunity came along. I was the right opportunity. With a little teamwork, Hildegard is now free to mate with Marcus.”
“Ya done good, old mon.” Marcus looked to Casey then. “I tol’ ya, da answer was wit the servant, din’t I? Das why I took you down there.” He pointed to the floor. “To test your skills ’cause I knew a battle was ahead.”
He had. Those were the last words she remembered before she woke up with Clay.
Marcus stooped to lift Hildegard’s limp form. “I’ll take her now. She gonna be pretty mad when she wakes up.”
Upon those words, both Hildegard and Clay stirred. When his luscious eyes popped open, he looked right at Casey, drinking in her bedraggled sweatiness with a warmth that took her breath away. She fought a smile. “Well, look who’s awake—after we’ve taken down Gigantor. This whole vampire- sleep thing is avoiding conflict at its best, don’t you think?” she teased, her pulse doing a yippy-skippy.
Clay launched upward to his feet as though he’d never slept and pulled her close, running his hands over her face. He kissed the tip of her dirty nose, assessing her from head to toe, eyeing her ripped clothing. “You’re okay. What happened? How the fuck did you pull that off?”
She smiled up at him. “Oh, don’t look at me. I can’t take any of the credit. It was all Arch.”
Heath had helped Arch up, bracing him from around the waist.
Clay glanced at Archibald. “Arch?”
Waving a hand, he smiled. “ ’ Twas nothing, sir. I had to stop Miss Casey from taking that awful woman’s place in Hell, and I had to stop you from becoming her man-toy. It was unthinkable. However, some credit must go to your new mate. You should have seen Miss Casey tonight. Sir, she was an animal.”
Casey put her arms around his waist and squeezed, laughing at the ever-changing emotions on his face. “I’ll explain everything later.”
Hildegard moaned in Marcus’s arms, squirming out of them. “Put me down, you moron!” When she took note of Clayton, she threw a dramatic frown on her face. “Clayton! Did you see what they did to me? It was ghastly.” She shuddered, looking down at her torn dress, smudges of black soot littering her flesh. “So tell them all to go away, and I just might find it in me to forgive you and allow you to continue our mating.”
Magnanimous.
Clay lifted his chiseled jaw to respond, his eyes fiery, but Casey was the one to act. Sauntering up to Hildegard, she pointed a finger in her face. “Hey, Hildegard. Guess what?”
She regarded Casey with disdain while Marcus came to stand beside her, his hand on the curve of her hip. A hand she brushed off with angry impatience, eyeing Casey. “I can’t wait.”
Casey smiled. “Your mated days are over, sistah.”
Her face was glacial. “You’re a funny little creature, aren’t you?”
Marcus’s head swung back and forth. “What she say is true, womon.You must come wit me now.” He grinned to punctuate his statement, planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek.
Hildegard’s eyes went wild as she ran a hand over the spot where Marcus had kissed her. “But that’s absurd. Neither of us is dead. Our bond can’t be broken unless one of us is expunged, and if any of you had anything to do with it, you’ll be shunned. So what you claim is impossible. Now, Clayton, make these awful people go away,” she whined.
“The bond can’t be broken by either one of us, but it can be broken by a human,” Clay snapped. “And if I were you, Hildegard, for all the pain you’ve brought me, for all the bullshit I’ve suffered because of your jealous longing, I’d shut up, because now that we’re not mated, I just might do what I’ve wanted to do for centuries. Kill you.”
Hildegard’s eyes went directly to the only human in the room. Archibald. They oozed her rage. “It was you!”
Archibald sighed with a bored yawn. “Why yes, Miss, ’twas I. And if you wish to set me afire, please be sure you do so here.” He pointed to his shoulder. “I’m told heat is good for arthritic bones, and after my superior quarterbacking, it aches.”
“You old bastard, I’ll kill you for this,” she growled. “It’s not true—it can’t be true!”
Casey’s grin was on par with the Joker—evil and superior. “Tell me something, Hildegard. Isn’t it true that because of your bond with Clayton, you can feel him, so to speak, and he can feel you?”
She held her mussed head high, her face taking on a haughty expression. “It is.”
“But if the bond is broken, he won’t be able to feel you anymore, right?”
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Make your point.”
“Clay? Tell me if you feel this.” Pulling her arm back, she slapped Hildegard’s face. Hard. Her head snapped back from the force Casey used, her howl ringing in the refrigerator.
Clay rubbed his jaw with lean fingers, then grinned as realization dawned. “Nope. Nuthin’. Not even a little residual.” He held up a hand to her, and she slapped it. “Nice job, honey,” he praised.
Turning her back on Hildegard, she eyed Clay. “Okay, so then tell me if you can feel this.” Lunging at him, she wrapped her limbs around his waist and neck and kissed him. Soundly—thoroughly—tasting every inch of his mouth—reassuring herself that he was unharmed.
When she let him go, he chuckled. “Now that I felt.”
A commotion had flared up as Hildegard fought to get away from Marcus. “Let me go, Marcus! What is wrong with you? We were in this together. How could you have let this happen? Clay was supposed to be mine!” she hollered.
Wrapping the length of her long hair around his wrist, Marcus’s eyes glowed red when he tugged her to him, molding her lithe body against his. “Hush, womon. Nobody should know betta dan you about deception.” He gave her ass a hard slap and chuckled. “Dis is all ovah now, and you’re comin’ wit me. You wasn’t kiddn’ when you said we in dis together.”
She fought him, pushing against Marcus, but he seemed to find the fight in Hildegard amusing rather than aggravating. Dragging her by the hair, he pulled her into the dark of the pizzeria, his laughter, victorious and bubbling, filling the room as he went.
Casey slumped in Clay’s arms, exhausted, when everyone began filing out of the refrigerator. “You need rest,” he whispered against her ear, nuzzling it with his lips.
She giggled. “I need to exfoliate.”
Wanda pinched Casey’s cheek, Heath close to her side. “Jesus, are you okay, Case? You must be exhausted.”
“Well, if she isn’t, I sure as fuck am,” Nina said, interrupting, holding Greg’s hand, and pulling him toward the exit. “I’m out, people. Casey, I gotta give it up. You were badass today. Thumbs-up and all that jazz. Now c’mon, vampire. Take me home to my drafty castle.”
Casey grabbed her and gave her a quick “non-personal space invading” hug, whether she wanted one or not. “Thank you. Thank you for helping me. All of you. I don’t know if I can ever thank you for risking so much to help me—”
“Us,” Clay interrupted. “Us,” he said again, winking down at her.
Marty blew a kiss at her, scooping up her tattered heels. “I need to get back to Hollis, and I need to mourn the loss of my shoes properly,” she teased, looking to Keegan. “Honey? I think tonight it’s the full-body-massage package, and no skimping.”
Keegan growled, nuzzling her hair before holding his hand out to Clay and enveloping it with a hard shake. “You have some little warrior here, friend. You two look out for each other.”
They made their way out over the toppled chairs, leaving Wanda, Archibald, and Heath. Wanda’s hair stuck out at odd angles that Heath pushed from her face with a tender hand, holding Archibald up with the other. “Well, young lady, if you think you’ll be okay, I’m out, too. I just want to go home to my own bed and sleep. A lot.”
Casey gave each of them a hug, cupping Archibald’s cheeks in her hands, she said, “You’re a genius, Arch. Thank you. I’ll never forget this.”
“Then I can safely assume my wild boar with a garlic glaze will be a fit celebratory feast?”
Casey laughed. “I’ll eat every last scrap on my plate. Promise.”
Heath helped Arch out, lifting him with care over the debris. Wanda faced them, eyeing Clay. “So—you’re mated. And that’s all well and good, but there’s a whole lot more to this than just— being naked. Never mind, you know what I mean. You make sure you look out for my little sister, got that? You two need to spend some time getting to know each other under circumstances that don’t include crazy giants and their fireballs.”
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