by Laura Kaye
Since he’d started training, she’d slept without the recurring the dream. His decision to become a Guardian to the archangels must have changed their future.
But what was the harm? Her previous relationships hadn’t worked out, despite all their sweet promises. Once, she’d been flat-out used and left, after all the empty words he’d sung to get her naked. She would have picked up on his game sooner, but she’d been blinded by the fear of her then-recently-begun nightmares and the need to cling to a demon male. Any demon male. At least she knew where she stood with Jett. No promises, just the present. And the heat in his gaze was no lie.
She hadn’t been able to put their first kisses out of her mind.
Her hesitation must have shown on her face. His voice quiet, but no less intense, he said, “You set the pace, Lex. But not seeing you for two weeks might have driven me mad.”
She flushed at his first use of her shortened name.
“May I call you Lex?”
“Absolutely.”
He stalked forward and took her hand. His intensely sexual tone persisted as he murmured, “May I be blunt?”
“Sure.”
“You’ve lost weight these past two weeks. Have you been well?”
“I haven’t had much of an appetite. But I’m fine. It’s getting better as time passes.”
“That’s good.” He cocked his head. “I was on my way to find something to eat. Will you join me?”
Perfect. A way to keep this under control but still share his company. “Absolutely.”
They made their way down the path to the village. Around the cluster of wood-and-stone buildings in the center of the colony, nothing moved except for the two of them, most of the residents inside for the daylight hours. The scent of baking bread and seasonings drifted through the air from the tavern—which the owner, her cousin, Gregory, had named The Ninth Circle. Smartass. Lexine smiled whenever she saw the sign, which hung above the door, complete with a little red devil and pitchfork.
Jett led her inside, a hand on her lower back.
Gory lounged behind the bar, watching a human news program on the wall-mounted television. The bald demon grinned and lifted his fingers in greeting. “Help yourselves. Got your favorite out today, Lexi.”
“Thanks. What’s going on in the world?” Steam rose from a mug in front of a Guardian, the only individual at the bar. Though most of the colonists stayed in their homes during the day, the Guardians on day shifts frequented The Ninth Circle. Since she also worked during the day, Lexine stopped by often, as did many single demons, and the archangels. Today was quieter than usual, the colony still adjusting after the recent attacks.
Gory shook his head. “War, bad politics, and celebrity scandals. What else?”On the serving counter, the small daytime spread included soups and warm breads. A cooler offered sandwiches and pasta salads. Lexine took a bowl of corn chowder and a wheat roll to a table that had a chair in a beam of sunlight. Jett settled opposite her with the potato bisque, a turkey sandwich, and two rolls. They ate for a moment in comfortable silence.
She chewed her lower lip. “Hmm.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No. This is just so…normal. Seeing you makes me feel like we should be rushing off on some emergency.”
He grinned, though his eyes seemed sad. “I’m sorry we met under extreme circumstances. How’s Bryce?”
“He’s had a few nightmares, but otherwise, he’s doing well.”
“Good.” He leaned back in the chair and leveled his dark crimson gaze on her. “How have your dreams been, Lexine?”
“Um…” She shoveled some chowder into her mouth to buy a moment to choose her words. She settled on the simple truth: “I’ve had no dreams these last two weeks, at least, none that I remembered when I woke.”
“No poacher?”
“No poacher.” She kept her gaze on the soup, hoping she didn’t look too guilty.
“Excellent.” He reached across the table and rested his fingers on hers. “I’m sorry I disappeared for two weeks. This training—”
“Don’t worry. I understand, and I respect what you’re doing. Mostly, I’m glad you’re not going back to the woods.”
He scoffed. “I wouldn’t have gone back to the woods after meeting you.”
Her heart hammered.
“I still want to get to know you, whether the time is easily won or not.” He drew circles on the back of her hand. “I agreed to train on the condition that my life was still my own and my personal decisions still mine to make. It’s not fair of me to ask, considering how little time I’ll have to offer, but I want to spend my free moments with you. Are you willing to give it a try?”
She smiled and grasped his hand, but cautioned herself. Just a try. In all reality, seeing him only once in a while wasn’t something she wanted. She craved companionship, and despite the way she responded to Jett’s every touch and glance, she wouldn’t be happy with this arrangement long term. Also, as a Guardian standing directly between poachers and the archangels, she’d worry. And worry and worry. Perhaps telling him no would be smart, but the word refused to form on her lips.
Try.
“I’d love to.”
He kissed her fingers, stood, and made quick work of clearing the table. “The day’s wasting.”
“Yes. Can I make a request?”
“Sure.”
“You lived all these months in the woods. Show me where?”
He glanced away. “Why?”
“Because it was your home.”
“I suppose it was.”
“More of a home than you’ve had in a long time.”
“True enough.” He didn’t sound convinced. “It’s nothing worth seeing, though.”
“I want to see what you did with the freedom you’re always griping about,” she said, smiling. “I want to know more about you, not what others forced you to be.”
“It’s not far from the scene of the murders.”
“Oh.” She should have realized that—how else had Jett found the humans faster than the Guardians? She’d been hoping to never venture into that area—Jett read her well. But she refused to back down. “I’ll be fine.”
“You’re stubborn.”
“I prefer ‘determined,’ and don’t be a hypocrite. It doesn’t suit you.”
He smiled, the effect so bright it reminded her of sunshine glinting on the lake after the ice finally breaks in the spring. “Okay, Lexine, let’s go for a walk. Just remember it was your idea.”
Chapter Thirteen
Abandoning Sanctuary’s groomed trails just beyond the cemetery, Jett led Lexine through the forest, the elevation steadily climbing. Neither of them said much—their first priority was listening for unwelcome company as they ventured farther out. As he’d observed the colony that year, he noted that Guardians and civilians alike treated the woods with respectful caution, the way a human would walk into a large, silent cathedral that might be empty or might not, and any sound would fill the space. Even children fell silent without being told.
Never before had he observed his own kind. Lawrence had described aggressive, hot-tempered beasts. In reality, most were like Jett: they preferred quiet and peace to disruption of any kind.
“Did my father have trouble getting demons to form a colony?”
“No, why?”
He stepped over a fallen, broken branch, making no sound. “It seems to me being out here, alone, is more natural for us.”
“Devin and Lark haven’t taught you any history?”
“Not yet.”
She ran her fingers over the bark of a thick pine. “Demons have been on earth for thousands of years, mostly in North America because there were far fewer humans here at the time, plenty of uninterrupted forest. We had no trouble with the Native Americans and rarely interacted with the archangels. You’re right, we weren’t as sociable a society then, but we weren’t loners, either. Young adult demons left their parents and searched the woods un
til they found mates. Couples were then as they are now—bonded for life and inseparable. Adult demons who didn’t find mates eventually died, the loneliness the root of a physical disease that hasn’t been seen since the colonies formed.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.”
“How did they find one another? The forest was a lot bigger then than it is now.”
“An ability that has all but disappeared in generations like mine, but it’s said to remain strong in those with a Guardian bloodline. I bet you had little trouble finding us even though you were on foot in the woods, right?”
He paused, recalling the turmoil of his thoughts during that trip. Free for the first time, but with no place to go. Hatred for Lawrence, concern and loyalty toward Raphael. Despite everything, he’d crossed the state and gone directly to the colony, never once losing his way. “I sensed it, somehow.”
“Exactly, and I’m sure Lark or Devin will explain it better. Anyway, the growing number of human European settlers drove us to work together as a community. The violence aside, it’s been a good thing and everyone agrees.”
“Why not form communities long before that?”
“Change needed the catalyst. Like you said, it’s in our nature to be out here, alone—well, almost alone.” She brushed her fingers over his arm, the fleeting contact a tease that made him reach out. She hooked her arm around his and they kept walking.
Jett breathed easier than he ever had before.
He avoided the easiest route—the rough path which Jac had taken the kids along—and followed a small brook. When the terrain leveled off he turned south, along the mountain instead of up it. After an hour, they passed above the murder scene, hidden beyond the trees, though the faint scent of blood lingered when the breeze blew just right. Lexine’s shoulders stiffened and she gripped his arm tighter.
“Just a little farther,” Jett said. “Have you been up here before?”
“Not since I was little, like Bryce, when they first start teaching us tracking and other forest skills.”
Tension filled her voice. Why had she insisted on coming to this place? What was she expecting to find at his camp? At least there was one thing worth the trip. “Wait till you see the view.”
The murder scene disappeared behind them, and they climbed one last rise to a small, natural clearing—most of the trees forced back by the granite ledge and crisscrossing springs.
“Here we are. There, look.” The gap in the forest framed a view of the colony and the lake below them, and of the sky, where an archangel surfed the vast stretch of blue. “It’s Raphael.”
“How can you tell?”
“They have different flying styles.”
“I’ve never noticed that.”
“It’s subtle. He favors the wing that was broken.”
“I thought it was perfectly healed,” she said, concern in her voice.
“I don’t know if something like that can ever be perfectly healed, mentally if not physically.”
She leaned against him and they watched in silence for a few minutes. “I like watching them fly, even though it makes me a little jealous. Can you imagine it?”
“No, I can’t, but I’m not sure the ability to fly would be worth the consequences.”
“The poachers?” She shook her head. “Horrible, but worth it. Definitely. When I watch them long enough, I can almost feel the force of it on my body. Even though it’s my imagination, it’s exhilarating.”
“Freedom, in any form, is exhilarating.”
Lexine turned away from the gliding archangel and faced him. “True. So you do know what it’s like to fly. You and Raphael both have been airborne since you escaped Thornton.”
“I suppose…”
She laughed. “Yeah, I didn’t figure you for the poetic type.” She walked past him, toward the shelter he’d built for himself at the edge of the clearing.
His home, as Lexine had pointed out. Why hadn’t he thought of it that way?
“You did this without tools or equipment?”
“At first I spent most of my time exploring the land around the colony. When I noticed something that would fit, I brought it back. It wasn’t as much work as it appears.” He’d stacked large rocks to waist-height in the middle of a hemlock grove, connecting four of the old trees that formed a nearly perfect square. To make an A-shaped roof, he’d tied branches together with the sturdy grape vines that grew on the trees near the river, topping it off with hemlock and pine foliage. By winter, he’d added deer skins, tanned with demon fire, to make the shelter water and windproof. “I just needed a place to sleep and wait out storms.”
“May I?” She lifted a hand to the deer-skin door.
“Sure.”
She vanished inside, and he followed her. He’d padded the ground first with pine needles, then with skins: deer near the door, rabbit and fox where he slept.
“Well, I guess I know what you ate.”
“I’ll be happy never to eat wild game again in my life.” Hunting and catching animals had been easy, none of the creatures able to outmaneuver a demon. He considered the food chain perfectly natural, but he’d have gladly traded a few salads to break fewer necks.
She sat on his bed and studied the stone portion of the wall he’d carefully constructed to form a shelf. He’d whittled bowls, forks, and spoons from pine. “You did make yourself at home.”
“During the cold snap that refused to give up, the archangels spent more time inside. Made me crazy, so I had to keep busy.”
“You really worried about them.”
“I, well…” He ground his teeth and sat on the bed next to her. “I had no reason to worry, but I couldn’t stop making it my business. I had to be here, just in case.”
“It’s in your blood.”
“I don’t believe in that kind of thing.”
“Silly.” She pressed her palm to the center of her chest. “Being a Guardian takes a certain kind of heart. Whether you think of yours as entirely your own or as something your father passed on to you, you have it.”
“I make my own decisions.”
“But you can’t change who you are on that level.”
He nodded, conceding, but he half wanted to push the subject to see the flare of pink in her cheeks and the way her chin stuck out ever so slightly when she argued a point.
Her attention shifted back to the shelf where there was also a pen he’d had on him when he’d fled Thornton’s farmhouse and a stack of birch bark he’d cut into squares.
“What are these?” She reached a hand toward the birch.
“I, uh, wanted to write down my thoughts. I’ve never had enough privacy before.”
“Oh.” She withdrew her hand.
“You can read them if you want.”
“That defeats the purpose of privacy.”
“Perhaps, but you came here, despite having to walk near the place where your brother died, to see this side of me. I wrote down things I’ll never say out loud, so if you want to know my thoughts, this is your chance.”
Instead of picking up his makeshift journal, she leaned over and kissed him.
Unable to help himself, he lifted a hand to her nape to discourage her from ending the kiss and pulling away. Her sugary venom coated his tongue, the heat of her a pleasure itself. Nerves as distant as his toes came alive with the need for more of her touch. He indulged, wrapping his other arm around her lower back and pulling her closer. Not that she needed the encouragement. She ran her hands over his head and across his shoulders. Her fingers tickled down his sides to his waist, a gesture he mimicked, drawing a whimper from her throat.
As she reached under his shirt and caressed his skin, he clamped his hands over her wrists and broke the kiss.
“What’s wrong?” A blush rose to her cheeks.
Oh, how he loathed to admit the reason for his hesitation. “I want more.”
“So do I.”
“But…”
“But?”
> He searched for words. Came up dry.
“If you’re worried about your scars—”
“I’m not.” He removed the leather straps holding his knives to his torso, gripped the bottom of his shirt, and pulled the black material over his head.
“Fair is fair.” She lifted her own shirt over her head.
A dark red bra enclosed the swells of her breasts.
“You’re staring,” she said, a smile in her voice, and leaned forward. “Feel free to take it off.”
He ran his hands over the silky material, her body heat soaking into his skin. “Show me how.”
Her eyes widened ever so slightly. “You’ve never…?”
“No,” he said, his mouth dry.
To his surprise, her smile widened. “Good.”
“Not the reaction I expected.”
“I admit, I wondered, considering your life up to this point.” She reached behind her back and the bra loosened. Leaving the garment in place, she lifted a hand and cupped his neck. “Better to have a clean slate than one with more bad memories.”
“Do you have some bad memories, Lex?”
Her smile faded. “Yes.”
Eyes closed, he turned his face toward her hand and kissed her palm. “How am I doing so far?”
“Nothing like the others.”
“I’ll take that as a good thing.”
“Most definitely.”
Easing the silk straps off her shoulders, he pulled the bra free of her body. He paused, bent, and smothered her breasts with kisses. She dug her fingers into her hair.
He scraped her skin with his fangs, remembering the liquid heat of her venom when she bit him at the motel. If biting wasn’t a part of demon sex play, he’d be surprised. The only thing that had ever brought him half as much bliss was her mouth on his.
She stiffened. “Jett.”
He removed his face and hands from her body. Had he screwed up that quickly? No, he doubted that. What, then? Did she harbor some pain from her past experiences? “I love touching you.”
“There’s something I may need to tell you. I’m not sure if you know.”