Booke of the Hidden

by Jeri Westerson

  “Not until you subdue her. Writing into the book seals her capture.”

  His arm was stretched out and my body was elongated in my need to get to the Booke. All of a sudden I sagged. The loss of energy, the futility struck me all at once.

  He slowly drew me in until I fit against him, warm and firm. It was comfort at first, but his enveloping presence became more. I knew this was a bad idea, and as I looked into his eyes, the flicker of uncertainty was there, too. But he didn’t loosen his hold.

  “I wanted you once before, but held myself back,” he said huskily. “If you don’t want my attention now, say so.” Very slowly, the hand that was holding my wrist slid up my arm, sending tingles over my skin.

  I shook my hair back out of my face and looked him square in the eye. “It wasn’t me who pulled away before.”

  He made a sound of triumph, and his hands reached for my face and held it. He just looked at me, eyes scanning over my face, my hair, my lips, until they stayed on my mouth and pulled me in. With quickening breath, he bent closer and his tongue tip flicked up over my top lip, tasting me like an animal might, before he covered my whole mouth in a deepening kiss.

  I didn’t think I’d ever been kissed quite like that before. With power and tenderness and absolute need. My arms went around him, feeling the muscles move under his jacket.

  Quickly he drew back, shoved the straps of my cami down my shoulders, and attacked my neck, leaving hot damp kisses on my skin. I arched into him and pushed at his ever-present coat, trying to shove it off his shoulders.

  Releasing me, he stepped back while I swayed dazedly, a little bereft. He had been warm against me. Very warm. But he’d only stepped back to whip off his coat and cast it to the floor. He tore open his shirt, spraying buttons across the room.

  I could do nothing but stare and pant. I remembered that hard chest from when I fixed his wound. I noticed vaguely that his shoulder was now free of its bandage and even a scar. When he came at me again, it was to tear open my shirt. “Favorite sleep shirt,” I muttered but couldn’t seem to muster the urge to care.

  His warm hands were on me, touching, kneading, eyes intense as he stared down at my naked chest and at what his hands were doing. Had he ever done this before? With a human woman? Again, didn’t care. He bent his head to mouth me with his lips, stroking with his tongue.

  “You are so…so…” He never finished, so I didn’t know what I was. He murmured something against my flesh. I grabbed a handful of his hair and lifted his face.

  “So are you.”

  “I must warn you,” he purred, hand dragging over my ribs, my hip. “This may be dangerous.”

  The old horror movie Rosemary’s Baby flitted through my head. “You can’t… um…impregnate me, can you?”

  He looked affronted. “Of course not. We are a different species.”

  That didn’t exactly make me feel better.

  His expression softened. His hand cupped my cheek, thumb moving over my lips. “That shouldn’t deter you. I won’t…hurt you.” He pressed a soft kiss to my mouth as if to prove it. “But I never said it won’t be rough.” And then his thumb returned, dipping into my parted lips to touch my teeth. I nipped him and his eyes widened in delight.

  He moved in and took the skin of my neck between his teeth and gently bit. Hot breath blasted over my throat as he nuzzled, sucked.

  My head lolled back, eyes closed. Suddenly I was being lifted and carried. I felt the comforter beneath my back and the bed dip as he crawled up after me.

  Are we really doing this? the practical side of me wondered. I told it to shut up.

  Erasmus had lied. He wasn’t rough. He took his time. His hands and mouth moved carefully, tenderly. It had been too long, feeling the touch of another, and longer since feeling the gentle touch of someone who seemed to care. Lying back on the bed, I heard more rustling of clothing and I raised my head, not willing to miss it. He’d divested himself of his trousers and underwear, if he wore any.

  “Damn!” I rasped.

  His brow rose in question, even as his dark eyes grew darker with blown pupils.

  I’d never slept with someone who looked like…like… “Wow,” I breathed. Demon or not, he certainly looked like a man, and a fine specimen if ever there was one. Firm defined muscles, strong thighs, and, uh, impressive attributes.

  The smile he offered me was utterly feral. Fingers gripped my sleep pants and drew them off in one swift move, leaving me naked. And before I could squeak about it he was lying atop me, sliding his muscled frame over mine with unabashed hunger.

  His lips found my neck again, and trailed up to my earlobe, gnawing and flicking his tongue at it.

  My hands roamed over his back, his flanks. He was all hard muscle without an ounce of fat. I reached over and grabbed handfuls of his firm buttocks and squeezed. I was rewarded with a grunt in my ear. I was really glad he didn’t have bat wings or a tail.

  His hardness slid against me and I opened my legs, wrapping them around his waist just in case he had any doubts about my willingness.

  He didn’t, and with a rumbling growl, he suddenly plunged into me. I guess he wasn’t one for foreplay, but at the moment, it didn’t really matter to me either. He writhed above me, moving his deliciously hot skin over mine and filling me. I could almost forget who and what he was.

  I moved with him, clutching his hips tightly with my thighs. He ran his hands up and down my calves in appreciation, and I grabbed his face to bring it down to kiss me again. His mouth devoured mine. His tongue swept wildly until I stopped it with my lips and sucked on it. He groaned, his hips snapping forward. I couldn’t stop touching him. I ran my nails up his chest, leaving red marks over his pecs, scoring near his tattoo. But when I touched the strangely marked flesh he grabbed my hands and pulled them up over my head, holding both wrists with one hand against the bed. He looked down at me as he breathed in great heaving gusts. His skin began to literally smolder.

  “Erasmus,” I gasped. “Don’t…set the bed…on fire.”

  He quirked a smile and the smoke wisped away, but his eyes seemed to darken, and he lowered his face to my breasts, taking them each in turn roughly into his mouth.

  “You…you’re really…good at this.”

  He smiled, baring his teeth in something more predatory than genial. He thrust harder. “And you…are more…than a surprise to me. You’re…so animated. I thought…the only emotion you possessed…was anger.”

  “I’m not angry…oh…right now.”

  “No,” he said, moving with assurance. “Let’s keep it that way.”

  “Keep doing that and it’s a sure thing.”

  “What?” he said, lowering his hand between us and moving it. “You mean…this?”

  I threw my head back, seeing an explosion of white bliss. He continued making little circles and hard strokes. With a trembling tension in his thighs he suddenly leaned into me and gasped his release.

  And that’s when the pillow above my head burst into flame.

  “Whoa!” I screamed, and shot prematurely out from under him and off the bed, slapping at my smoking hair.

  The fire snuffed out immediately all by itself, or from his own brand of magic, but I’d definitely fallen off of my cloud.

  He was lying on his front, leaning on an elbow. “Sorry,” he drawled. “I can’t always control that.”

  I had a good view of his gorgeous rounded backside. I’d almost forgive him anything for that. But my pillow was toast. Literally. The pillowcase was blackened and the toxic fumes from the pillow’s stuffing lingered.

  It took that long for his words to sink in.

  “Do you…do this a lot?”

  Erasmus turned over and stretched. Over his head, he grasped the burnt pillow and tossed it across the room. Droopy-eyed, he looked at me. “No. I only come here every hundred years or so.”

  “Oh. So…with human, um, women?”

  “Well, certainly not cattle.”

  “That make
s me feel so much better.”

  He gazed at me for a long moment before his lazy expression turned to a frown and he sat up suddenly. Staring at me, then at the pillow, his face grew darker. “Beelze’s tail,” he murmured. He scrubbed at his hair and launched himself from the bed. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “I can replace the pillow.”

  “Not that! This! Us. It was incredibly stupid and shortsighted of me. I tried to resist.” He looked up sharply and narrowed his eyes. “Did you use a charm?”

  “No! Why would I need to do that?”

  “All the same. It was a mistake. You should have stopped me.” He said nothing more and began gathering his clothes.

  I should have… My jaw hung open in shock. What the hell? “Isn’t it a little late for regrets?” I folded my arms over my chest, feeling suddenly a bit vulnerable standing there naked with the window wide open. I hurried to the casement and pulled it closed. I couldn’t help but run my eyes over the yard. No mysterious lumps out there. Just night and wind and silence.

  I watched him dress for a moment before barking out a little snarkily, “Not exactly what the Powers That Be prefer, eh? Humans and demons don’t mix? Gonna write you up, give you a demerit?”

  He snapped his gaze at me. Far too much alarm was visible in his eyes. Crap! What might a demon demerit be like?

  “D-do they have to find out?” I said more quietly. “I mean, they aren’t watching us, are they?” A chill rippled down my neck. That was just what I needed: voyeur gods.

  He rubbed his palms into his eyes. “I’m…sorry.”

  “But…” I wasn’t going to plead with him. I had more pride than that. I found a quilt draped over my desk chair and wrapped myself in it. “So that’s it?”

  “Yes.” There was an uncertain tone to his voice. He was dressed in his trousers again, at a loss for what to do. I couldn’t help him. I was a little lost myself. “I’m…”

  “If you say you’re sorry one more time…” I said, teeth clenched.

  “I’m…hmm.”

  “That’s great. That’s just great. Good discipline there. At least it’s only every hundred years or so. Not like every day with a different human in every county.”

  He wore an unreasonably hurt expression. “I wasn’t exactly on my own here. I recall a certain willingness on your part.”

  “Because I thought it meant something to you!”

  “Meant something to me?” He looked away. “Don’t be absurd!”

  I wiped harshly at the sting in my eyes. “Fine. It’s over, then. You’ve chalked up another for this epoch. Now you can wait another hundred years for your next willing victim.”

  He made an impatient sigh. “Kylie…”

  “No, you’re right. This was a really stupid thing to do. Too bad we couldn’t come to our senses about ten minutes earlier.”

  He brooded, arms folded taut over his chest. I felt like throwing something at him, but the lamp was already broken. What had I expected? He was a demon. At least I had known that upfront. I was the stupid one.

  “I’ll…return tomorrow,” he said.

  “I have a date tomorrow night.”

  I could hear his teeth grinding. “You still plan to go through with that?”

  I glared. “You’re the one leaving.”

  I’d been a world-class idiot for not thinking it through, and I was usually better at that. But here I was, rushing in. A demon of all people! Especially when there was a decent man waiting for me tomorrow. A real flesh-and-blood man. What the hell was I doing messing with another species? I sure knew how to pick them.

  As the silence drew on I grew angrier. Fight for me, you jerk! He wanted me but now he was running scared. And of course, he wouldn’t even tell me why.

  He muttered under his breath and yanked on his jacket. His shirt hung wide open. After all, the buttons were scattered all over the floor. “I’ll be back in the morning, then,” he grumbled.

  “Not too early. I’m sleeping in.”

  He nodded. “Fine.”

  “Erasmus.” I waited for his eyes to settle on mine. They were their usual darkness, unreadable, glistening. “Um…thanks. For saving me. Again.”

  “It seems to be my lot in life.”

  I nodded. “I’ll get her next time. I didn’t know she’d attack me. Now I know better.”

  “Yes,” he grunted. “I suppose you do.” He swept away, stomping heavily down the stairs, until I couldn’t hear his footfalls anymore.

  I flopped on the bed. My head hit the remaining pillow and I stared at the ceiling, cringing at the claw marks and boot scuffs among the rafters, thinking about my demon lover and the man I was going to date tomorrow. Like I was going to get any sleep now.

  • • •

  In the morning, I cleaned up the broken remains of the lamp, making a mental note to pick up another at Moody Bog Hardware, and looked at my scratched shoulder in the bathroom mirror. Four angry red lines raked across my fading tan. I pressed tentative fingers to it and hissed at the raw pain. I dabbed it with a cotton ball and antiseptic. What kind of infections could I get from the Netherworld? Erasmus had said I’d be all right…and then I thought of him and his damned kisses…and everything else.

  He was too good at that, which made me wonder where he got his experience. A little incubus work on the side, maybe?

  Was I really in the mood to go through with this date? What would I say to Ed? “Sorry, I’m having a good time with another species at the moment, but I’ll give you a call when something opens up.”

  A hot shower was needed, and after drying off and slipping on a warm sweater and my favorite skinny jeans, I set up the French press, pushing down the plunger until the coffee was dark.

  With hot mug in hand, I ventured to the back garden. In the daylight, it didn’t look as scary. The glider swing needed a little oil and some sanding, but I decided I liked it and would work on it soon, as well as the climbing tea roses that could use a lot of pruning.

  But then I looked at my wall.

  I inhaled a sharp, cold breath. Up the aged-dark clapboards on the side of my house were long deep scratches from very familiar claws. She had lured me to the window with the sound of scratching. She had climbed up my wall to attack me. It gave me a chill to look at them, to give truth to my nightmares.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Dammit!” I spilled coffee on myself as I jumped in surprise. I wiped at my pants and turned an accusatory glare on Erasmus. “Do you have to do that?”

  The corner of his mouth ticked into a smirk. “I don’t have to, no. But I always enjoy the result.”

  “Oh, nice.” The hot coffee dampening my jeans cooled quickly in the cold air. I decided that the best course of action was not to mention last night.

  “Look, about last night,” I said, completely ignoring my own best advice.

  He glowered at the wall, not looking at me. “It was a mistake. There is nothing else to say.” Except that it looked as if he wanted to say more.

  “Yeah, sure,” I muttered. I tried to assuage the lump in my throat with hot coffee. I took a breath and gestured with my mug toward the scratches. “Is this usual succubus behavior?”

  He nudged me aside and strode forward, raising his hand to run a finger down the roughened edge of an abrasion. “Not usual, no. But as I said, she is aware of you, of what you are. She knows you can stop her.”

  “I thought I was protected. I thought the Wiccans had done a spell or something.”

  “So did I. The magic they did should have worked. May I examine their pentagram?”

  “Yes, of course.” I walked across the crunchy lawn with Erasmus following. I led him through the kitchen area and into the shop, pointing to the fireplace. “It’s under the rug. I covered it.”

  “And that would be the problem. You may not hide the pentagram. In effect, you were creating the reverse result.” He stooped and grabbed the rug, flipping it to the side. The chalk line was still clear
ly visible, as was the brownish stain from my blood. I rubbed the scab on my finger in sympathy.

  “I screwed up?”

  He nodded. “The magic was negated when you covered the pentagram.”

  “So we have to do the ritual again? My poor finger.”

  He arched a brow. “It is unlikely to help a second time. Once you call upon the gods for help and then turn away that help, you cannot expect accommodation.”

  “Um…gods, huh? So just because I didn’t want a pentagram in my shop I pissed them off?”

  “If you want to put it that way.” He dusted his hands and rose. Looking around, he wrinkled his nose. “That infernal tea!” He sneezed and wiped at his nose with disgust.

  I handed him a tissue. “It being a tea shop, it’s hard to avoid.”

  He glared at the tissue, holding it with thumb and forefinger. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  “Wipe your nose.” I retreated to the kitchen for more much-needed coffee, and to wet a towel to scrub the coffee stain from my jeans. I realized that I actually had a free day, since all was ready and the grand opening wasn’t until tomorrow. “Erasmus?” He had slunk in after me, picking up various things from the counter and examining them before putting them back down again. “Is it possible to hunt a succubus during the day? Does she have a lair somewhere?”

  He was busy studying my electric juicer and ended up tipping out the juicing part. It tumbled across the counter and clattered into the sink. He raised his brows and gingerly returned the machine to its place. “An interesting suggestion. It is not known where she might have a lair. But I imagine any cave or abandoned building, as long as it was sufficiently dark, would do.”

  “A cave? I’ll have to ask around. I need to make a trip to the hardware store anyway. Maybe the locals would know.”

  “Excellent. I will accompany you.”

  “You will?” I sipped and warmed my hand on the mug. Erasmus looked uncomfortable in the light of day. I supposed he was more of a night person.

  “Of course. It occurs to me that I know little about your world in its current era.”