Claimed by the Demon Hunter

by Harley James

  After scouting the club’s other VIP rooms, he was headed toward the upper balconies when Katherine’s man, Stark, approached him from across the room. Alexios had once commented that the Archangel Michael had drawn his flaming sword upon first seeing Stark, unnerved by how much the tall, light-haired, well-formed human resembled Lucifer before the powerful angel was cast from Heaven and escorted to Hell by Michael himself.

  “What is it, Stark?”

  “When you get a moment, Jessie asked that you stop by her station.”

  “She okay?” Nate began walking before he even heard Stark’s reply, his pulse jumping in his neck. Ten feet from Jessie’s station, he saw José attempting to dirty dance with her, the wiry Latino grinding against her left hip.

  “Get back to work, you bloody sod,” Nate bellowed, endeavoring to stave off the possessiveness that ramped up his earth element. The floor under the bartenders’ feet rippled up half a foot. He lunged across the bar and grabbed hold of Jessie’s flimsy sleeve, trying to right her, but the damned material ripped and came away in his hand. When Jessie tumbled face down toward José’s groin, the bartender had the balls to laugh. Jessie blushed, trying to fix her damaged shirt, but buggeritall, more of her breasts were showing now than before.

  This time Nate’s boiling blood made the walls shake, sending liquor bottles crashing down from the shelves. When one almost landed on her head, he vaulted over the counter, ignoring José’s incredulous look. Nate wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her out of harm’s way. He shucked his suit coat and shoved her arms into the sleeves like she was a recalcitrant toddler. “You’re done here, Jessica.” His voice was rough and deep. The bottles rattled on the shelves again.

  Jessie looked at the floor warily. “What was that?”

  Nate’s conscience pricked at the waver in her voice. “Special effects. Like them?”

  “Not sure yet.” She kept her gaze glued to the floor like it was going to eat her.

  José turned the task lighting at his station on high. “Special effects, you say?”

  “Hell, yes, and I’ve got plenty more where that comes from.” If looks could kill, José would be dust right now.

  Jessie put a hand on his chest. “Nate, have you checked in with everyone on the security team?”

  José tossed a bottle of Patrón in the air with a flourish. “Why you so pissed, boss man? Surely you know our booty poppin’ is part of the show?” He smiled, but any man looking at him would see his challenge.

  “Discourtesy to your employer is ill-advised, Mr. de la Fuente. Discourtesy to your employer in front of others is self-immolation. This is your first and only warning.” He stared him down until José looked away. Nate turned to Jessie. “Keep my coat on and come with me,” he barked. Goddamn. He was starting to sound like a stiff, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. So much for live and let live.

  At least when it came to his woman.

  “How does that thing with the floor work?” she asked, pulling a broom from the narrow utility closet next to José’s station. Her entire vibe communicated unease.

  “I’ll tell you later. Let’s go.” He needed to put his hands on her, wrap her in his arms to reassure both of them all was well.

  “I can’t. I’m working. We have one chance to get this grand opening right.” She stopped sweeping to pin him with a somber gaze. “Has everyone on your team checked in? I feel really unsettled about something.”

  That gave him pause. Especially because she’d asked him twice now. He took the broom from her hands and dumped the glass-filled dustpan in the garbage. “Yes, they have. What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head, frowning. “I don’t even know.”

  A weaving Freddy Krueger staggered and shoved his way to the bar. “JBlaze! I’m a Virgo, what’s your sign, baby?”

  “Do not enter,” Jessie yelled, looking more frazzled than he’d ever seen her. All his protective instincts rose to the fore.

  Freddy pressed his razored fingers to his chest. “Damn, girl, you know how to break a monster’s heart. If you won’t date me, how about you show me some more of those lickable tits!”

  Nate snarled and grabbed a fistful of Freddy’s red and black stripped shirt so forcefully the man’s brown hat tumbled backwards. “Show the lady some respect!”

  Nightmare on Elm Street guy tried to shrug out of Nate’s grasp. “I didn’t mean no harm, dude, but look at her! She makes me wanna suck—”

  Nate shoved the man backward so hard Freddy knocked a wave of people down like bowling pins. Nate would have followed to remove the piss artist from the building, but Dorian already had the guy halfway to the door.

  Jessie came around the bar amid the partygoers, a fretful look on her face that made his heart stutter. “What about Mason? He told me he’d be here tonight. Has anyone seen him yet?”

  “No, but everything’s going to be okay, Jess. Why don’t you retire to my office for the rest of the night? You can watch me as I pinch-hit behind the bar.” He smiled and ran his fingers down her cheek. He needed to keep an eye on José anyway. The bartender likely knew his days at Mirage were limited, so it wouldn’t surprise Nate if he walked out at the height of the party.

  “I want to work. If I sit upstairs, I’ll just worry.” Jessie shrugged out of his suit coat and held it out to him. “Would you mind asking Dante to stop by the bar when the band wraps up their set?”

  Make her go upstairs. There he could guarantee her safety. Forcing, manipulating, coercing—that was what he knew best.

  He also knew it wouldn’t get him what he really wanted this time around.

  Jessie’s….acceptance?

  A bead of sweat rolled down the center of his spine, making him want to fidget. “Only if you put the jacket back on.” More manipulation but…

  Fucking Look. At. Her.

  She re-cinched the ties of her costume with slightly shaking hands. “Nothing is hanging out.”

  Yet. From his taller vantage point her sweet left nipple was perilously close to the top edge of all that ruffled business. A menagerie of witches, zombies, and clowns was closing a semi-circle behind her, seemingly hungry to be in the same air-space as his beautiful, celebrated mixologist.

  To lay eyes on her was to be captivated by her.

  Only he could see the tiny stress lines that bracketed her forced smile. He broke through her groupies, gently grabbing her by the arm, and started pulling her toward the hallway that led to his office.

  “Nate, stop.” She pulled against his hold, but he only tightened it and pressed onward through the crowd.

  How did he ever think this would work? After one taste of her honey lips, he should have known he’d never be able to share her—any part of her—with anyone else. She was his soul mate, and she belonged to him.

  “Stop!”

  It wasn’t so bloody loud in the hallway, subduing some of the buzzing in his head. He growled at an amorous pair to take their heavy petting elsewhere, then turned to her. “I can’t stand it when others see you like this.” His right hand swept through the air in front of her body.

  His honesty shocked them both.

  Her mouth dropped open. “What? You’re being ridiculous. I’ve got more clothes on than most of the other women in this place.”

  “I don’t give a bleeding shit about any other females.”

  She took a step away from him, her eyes wide, bright, and…disappointed.

  Bollocks. He was being a fool when all he’d wanted to do was take care of her. Protect her. He reached for her hand, almost short of breath. “Jessie…”

  She shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. “This controlling behavior of yours is not okay. I don’t know what you did with the respectful and trusting man I’ve enjoyed this week, but if this is the real you, I guess it’s for the best that I find out now.”

  Nate ran a shaky hand through his hair. He’d learned as a child that you can’t grasp a butterfly with all your force without dest
roying it. If this is what happened when he knew his soul mate existed, what kind of brute would he turn into when he’d gone the Full Monty and actually bonded with her?

  His tongue felt thick in his mouth. “Jessie, I’m…” Why is it so hard to say? “I don’t…What I mean is, that’s not... I don’t want to…” Lose you. The words stuck in his throat.

  “You have no reason to be jealous. Look, I need to help the guys—the bar’s swamped. We’ll talk later, okay?” A sudden bull horn sounded, raising the hairs on the back of Nate’s neck. “The Dead Enders must’ve wrapped up. Don’t forget to have Dante stop by. I gotta run!”

  “Jessie, wait.” His fingers clutched air. Letting her go was like severing his own limb.

  “Just relax and enjoy the show!”

  “I’d rather you wear my jacket. You’ll give them blue balls, Jessica,” he said, but she’d already melted into the crowd. Nate followed her path, knowing he’d be better off retreating to his office for the rest of the night.

  But he’d never been a man to do something just because he should.

  Dorian stepped down from a raised security platform halfway between the bar and the stage when Nate indicated with a jerk of his head that he was relieving him of his post. It was the perfect location where he could keep an eye on Jessie, yet far enough away that he couldn’t jump every other guy who tried to make a pass at her. The two minutes it would take to get to the bar would give him time to settle down and think before he acted.

  That was the plan anyway.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Immortalis take up the mic on the DJ’s platform.

  “What up, Mirage crew?! Can you give me a Happy Halloweeeeen?” He held the mic out to the crowd as they erupted in ecstatic screams. “Welcome to all you intrepid newcomers! We have no tricks—only treats—for you tonight! Those of you who partied here under the old management, listen up and tell me…what time is it?”

  Without skipping a beat the crowd hollered, “Midnight!”

  Immortalis bawled, “Oh come on, now! I said…What. Tiiime. IS IT?”

  “MIDNIGHT!”

  “Hell yeah, bitches! And you know what that meeeeeeans?”

  Nate’s heart hit the deck. Oh, damn. He wasn’t going to like this, was he?

  The music flared on a crazy drop beat. When José and Drake hoisted Jessie up on top of the bar, it dawned on Nate with a rush of heat why she’d requested that pole and over-head railing at her station. She started shaking her hips, making that red floofy skirt bounce all over the place.

  “JaaaaayBlaaaaze, y’all!!!!!” the DJ wailed. The crowd proceeded to go bat-shit crazy as Nate lunged toward the bar feeling every bit as wild and out of control as the gobby drunks he pushed out of his way. As he neared Jessie’s station, he dodged and swatted flying costume pieces of dubious origins that sailed toward the bar.

  Jessie swiveled her hips in time with the thick beat as she sling-shot a sequined bra back into the crowd. José tossed her a hot pink microphone. As soon as her ruby red lips opened Nate could only think of one thing.

  And he bet every other male with a pulse was having the same fantasy.

  That was it.

  She was coming down off that bar counter in five, four, three—

  “Happy Halloween, you sexy, scary crew! It’s only midnight so the party’s far from over. But right about now, I’m thinking there’s something you want. Am I right?” Jessie asked her adoring fans.

  Nate’s eyes were glued to his woman as chants of “Shots!” pealed out, over and over. Many of the men begged for tittie shots.

  Nate’s fist struck the nearest offender and dropped him like a ghetto anchor without a rope. When he turned around, Spencer was smirking at him in that arrogant way of his.

  “You cruising for a proper punch-up, mate?”

  Nate curled his lip at his buddy. “Not interested in a widespread fistfight, thanks. I’ll tell you this much, though, if I make it through the rest of the night without murdering one of these dozies, it’ll be a blooming miracle.”

  “Are you suuure?” Jessie held the mic out over the crowd to amplify their feverish screaming.

  Spencer grinned appreciatively up at Jessie as she paced—no, sauntered—across the top of the bar. Nate shoved Spencer sideways. Spencer apologized with aplomb to the group he’d rammed into before turning back to Nate with an even wider smile.

  “Hmm, your soul mate is rather fit, Nathaniel. Tis a wonder you haven’t burned the place to bloody ashes already.” Spencer paused and looked back up at Jessie. “I would have.”

  Talk of burning things to ashes took on a whole new meaning with Spencer since his element was fire.

  “I hope I’m around when you meet your soul’s match. We’ll see how stroppy you get.”

  Spencer laughed and slapped Nate on the back. “I fear you’ll be waiting a long time, chum.”

  José handed Jessie a bottle of tequila which she held up for all to see. “Are you party people tellin’ me you’re ready for some shots?!”

  The frat boys directly in front of her lost their minds, trying to touch her, making rude gestures with their mouths and fingers. Nate picked two of them up by the front of their shirts and threw them ten feet into the crowd. Spencer took his lead and dispatched the other two in a similar fashion. Nate nodded his thanks to the Guardian, then parked himself in front of Jessie’s position on the bar, reminding himself he wouldn’t—he just couldn’t—pull her down off that counter because it would humiliate her.

  And she was…having fun?

  Huh.

  That was actually a turn on when it really shouldn’t be.

  Right?

  He was seriously becoming a wally over her.

  Didn’t mean he couldn’t try to make himself as large and intimidating as possible, though. It wasn’t his fault if he couldn’t completely control the throat-choking vibes he pushed at any man who got within five feet of her.

  He’d have to recharge all his spent energy for days. Jessie would have to help him with that now, wouldn’t she? He smiled as he looked up at the woman who had stormed into his world on a burst of color that first day he’d caught a glimpse of her from the produce section of the grocery store.

  In less than two months, she’d come to mean so much to him.

  Jessie glanced down at him, winking as though she’d read his mind, and turned her attention back to the crowd. “Well, then, let’s do this! DJ Immortalis, give our Mirage crew what they want!”

  Shots by LMFAO burst from the speakers at an ear-splitting decibel as two dozen shot girls fanned out from the far left side of the bar. They held their loaded shot trays high above their heads as they snaked their way through the crowd to their designated serving locations.

  Nate spun toward Spencer as dread gripped his gut like when he’d woken up on the floor next to his seven-year-old brother. Death had come for his younger sibling early in the night because his skin had already firmed and faded to a terrible bluish-white when Nate had reached to shake him awake.

  “Do you feel that?” His voice scratched the back of his throat.

  “Aye.” Spencer’s eyes roamed over the crowd restlessly. All mirth fled from his face, replaced by cold resolve. The thick, oily energy that had slithered into the place meant demons. Dozens of them by the way Nate’s skin prickled and his hearing amplified. “My comm unit failed earlier. Put the team on high alert. Dorian should have felt the presence, too, but tell him to stay where he is until we know what’s here. Find Jaws and Stark to clue them in.” When Spencer left to alert the human security team members, Nate pulled a man off a bar stool and climbed up to have a better vantage point. A head stood out not only because it was somewhat gray amid a sea of in-their-prime college students, but also because it was racing against the current.

  Mason Jacobs.

  Jessie’s uncle clasped something under his left arm as he scrambled onto the DJ stage. After he placed the object on top of the disc jockey console, his finger
s pushed something across the wood, his lips moving quickly like he was on death row praying for salvation.

  Nate’s heart stopped. He’d seen hundreds of rectangular pieces of wood like that over the last century. Ouija board and planchette.

  DJ Immortalis approached to see what the other man was up to. Mason whipped a knife out of his pocket and slashed so viciously at the DJ’s neck his head listed backwards as his body slumped to the floor.

  A couple people who’d witnessed the butchering started screaming and running away from the DJ’s stage.

  Shit, shit, shit! Nate pushed a mental picture of what he’d witnessed to Spencer, Katherine, and Dorian. He glanced back to see the other bartenders helping Jessie off the bar. He had to trust they’d protect her while he focused on the bigger threat to everyone. He jumped down from the stool and bulldozed his way through the as-yet oblivious dancers toward Mason. So far, most people were only laughing at those who were shoving their way to the door, thinking the panicked people were being rude or it was part of Mirage’s Halloween experience.

  Which worked in his favor as far as the number of mind wipes they’d have to do, but then a bad thought crossed his mind.

  Ouija boards were used to call upon dark spirits.

  If the crossroads demon had instructed Mason to summon him while drawing on the power of a Guardian insignia—and there was one etched on the DJ’s platform, goddammit—he would probably generate enough power to create a portal.

  The Seam.

  “Out of my way!” Nate snarled. He was ten feet from Mason when fire erupted from the upside-down, heart-shaped planchette in Mason’s hands. It set off an enormous explosion of solid, blinding light that sent Nate and everyone nearby careening back twenty feet. The blaring electronic music transmuted into radio static. Screams all around him merged with a high pitched squeal spliced with grainy static. Like someone was turning an old-fashioned radio dial, frantically searching for a station.

  Draped layers of taffeta shook and floated down over the u-benches set back into the cove seating areas. Lights on the tables, in the booths, and over the dance floor flickered, faster and faster, like strobes out of control, while the life-sized zombies undulated like they were in their death throes.