Chase the Dark (Steel & Stone Book 1)

by Annette Marie

  Lyre gazed at her, saying nothing, a wrinkle between his brows as though he was considering something he was afraid to suggest.

  Piper stared back for a minute before she figured it out. “No way! No freaking way! Me? You want me to donate? Forget it!”

  Lyre gave Piper an up-and-down look with one eyebrow raised. “Don’t overreact or anything, Piper.”

  She swallowed a nasty retort. “Sorry, but—really? You can’t be serious.”

  He shrugged, leaning back against his seat, way too nonchalant. “Why can’t I be serious? Daemons and haemons with magic don’t throw off energy the way humans do—our energy feeds back into our own magic—but since you don’t, you know, have magic . . .”

  She gritted her teeth. “I wasn’t arguing about the mechanics of it.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I am not having sex with you!”

  He threw his head back and laughed. God help her, he was sexy. “Really, Piper, are you that naïve? I don’t have to have sex with you to charge these lodestones.” He swung the wristband back and forth like a pendulum, then rolled his eyes. “Besides, you’re the Head Consul’s daughter. And besides that, I don’t sleep with virgins anyway.”

  Her expression blanked and she hitched an unconvincing scowl on her face to hide anything else that might show up on it. “If you’re not suggesting sex, then what?” Lyre was an incubus; there was only one kind of energy he collected.

  Shadows were starting to gather in his eyes. The air seemed warmer, heavier. “Sex is the entrée, Piper,” he said, his voice going softer, deeper. “There’re still all kinds of appetizers.”

  She swallowed hard, not quite able to look away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Something that had nothing to do with lust or passion flickered across his face—something angry and resentful. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but . . . you owe Ash, Piper.”

  “I—what?”

  “He almost died protecting you. He’s been unconscious all night, used all his magic, and made himself completely helpless to save you from that minotaur. You heard what he said: Cottus got him when he killed the minotaur to keep it away from you.”

  “But—”

  “Do you know how many enemies he has? Half the Underworld would kill him given a good chance.”

  “But—but why?”

  “Because of who he is. Daemons he’s never met want to kill him. He’s done nothing but keep us safe and this is a chance for both of us to help him.” His intense expression softened. “I can’t charge these by myself, Piper.”

  She bit her lower lip. “No sex.”

  “No sex,” he promised solemnly.

  Her nerves twanged like guitar strings. This was a bad idea. Bad idea. Incubi were unbelievably good at twisting any and every situation around until it seemed like intimacy made perfect sense. But even if Lyre’s real motive was to fool around with her, she wanted to help charge Ash’s lodestones. What else could she do for him? Giving him back an immediate source of power, the ability to protect himself, was the only gift she could give him to make up for his sacrifices. Come to think of it, she didn’t even understand why he kept taking these risks for her.

  Lyre propped an elbow against the steering wheel as tension melted from his body. Piper swallowed against the blush rising in her cheeks. The incubus smiled slowly, that half-grin that always made him look playful and seductive. The gold faded from his eyes as shadows gathered in his irises. He was shading fast and if he decided to ignore her no-sex stipulation, she probably wouldn’t be able to stop him. She probably wouldn’t want to.

  Her breathing picked up as his stare slid slowly down her body and back up again, leisurely and caressing. A slow-building heat washed through her, but her anxiety was climbing almost as quickly. Lyre licked his lips as his gaze settled on her mouth. Damn, he was good. He hadn’t done anything yet except look at her.

  “Um,” she choked. “I changed my mind.”

  “Piper,” he complained. In another minute, he would be too far-gone to take no for an answer. Lyre was about as respectful and morally sound as incubi came, but he was still a daemon with powerful instincts. One did not play hard-to-get with an incubus.

  “Look,” he said, taking deep breaths as if he was trying to stay calm and clearheaded. There was a soft, purring undertone to his voice that made her blood heat. She felt feverish. “Let’s just start small. A kiss? If you’re too uncomfortable, then I’ll go take a walk.”

  “A kiss,” she repeated breathlessly. Holy crap, she was burning with the urge to melt into his arms. Incubus magic was powerful stuff. She slowly licked her lips.

  He nodded encouragingly, one hand wrapped around the steering wheel in a death grip. His eyes were totally black now, bottomless magnets that drew her stare with irresistible force.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  Carefully, as though he didn’t want to make any sudden movements, he let go of the steering wheel. She fought not to recoil as he slid cautiously from his seat to hers until their hips were pressed together and she was squashed against the door. The seat wasn’t quite big enough for two.

  They stared at one another, her trying to stay calm, him trying to gauge her mood.

  She could feel his heat and smell his musky, masculine scent—spicy and alluring with that odd but yummy cherry undertone. He slowly lifted one hand. His fingertips brushed her cheek and she jumped. His touch trailed over her cheek and down the side of her neck, leaving shivery tingles in its wake. He curled his fingers gently around the back of her neck, his palm hot against her skin. His stare held her prisoner and she couldn’t find her voice to tell him to stop. She didn’t know if she wanted to. He leaned closer and she closed her eyes.

  His lips brushed hers, soft, almost questioning. She held perfectly still, trying to pretend that one little touch hadn’t sent her heart racing. Then he pressed his mouth to hers. Heat swooped through her belly and spread like fire through her blood. Her hands sank into his hair, pulling him closer. Her mouth opened and he kissed her more deeply. Wild need rushed through her. She was on fire and he was everything she needed, everything she craved so desperately. Without thinking, she hooked her leg over his thigh, pulling him on top of her as she fell back into the car door. She arched her back to press against him and he grabbed her thigh to help pull her other leg around him.

  “Lyre,” she panted, tearing her mouth away from his to gasp for air. “I—I changed my mind.”

  “What?” he growled against the corner of her mouth. “You are not going to tell me—”

  “I want you.”

  He froze, not breathing. Then, with a frustrated snarl, he shook his head. “No, you can’t change your mind now. You’re not thinking clearly anymore, you—”

  She grabbed his face and jerked his mouth down on hers. He crushed their lips together with another growl, then pulled back.

  “Piper, you—”

  “Lyre,” she moaned. She grabbed at the hem of his shirt, trying to pull it up. She was on fire. Only he could quench it. “Please.”

  He hesitated, his face hovering over hers, hands curled tightly over her hips, his eyes black as pitch. His resolve was weakening.

  “I think I overdid the aphrodisia,” he whispered.

  She grabbed the neck of his shirt and pulled down so hard a seam tore. “Now,” she demanded, tightening her legs around him. His hands slid up her bare sides, pushing her shirt up with their motion. She arched her back invitingly as his touch lit her skin on fire and made her ache for him, desperate for more.

  As she arched back and he pressed against her, the car door behind her made a snapping sound and popped open.

  Piper shrieked as she fell backward. Pain shot through her spine as her torso fell out of the car but her legs stayed tangled around Lyre. She hung for a second before her legs came free and she landed on her head. The rest of her slid out of the car and she crumpled in a heap.

  “Piper? P
iper, are you okay?”

  She panted, blinking like she’d just woken up. Her body ached like she had a terrible fever but the pain wasn’t from falling. She swallowed hard as she carefully sat up.

  Lyre hung out of the car, one hand stretched toward her. His eyes were visibly lightening back to gold and he looked freaked out. He stared at her like he’d never seen her before. “Holy shit,” he breathed.

  “Y-yeah,” she stuttered. She was starting to shiver as the fire in her blood died, taking all her body heat with it. “What—what did you do?”

  She was sure she would be furious with him in a minute for turning her into a puddle of crazed lust, but right then she felt more shell-shocked than anything else.

  “I—I was trying to calm you down. You were nervous and . . .” He trailed off, his brow furrowing. He licked his lips. “You’re not a virgin, are you.”

  It wasn’t a question. Her cheeks flushed and she dropped her gaze.

  “I’m sorry, Piper,” he said, sounding so miserable she had to look up. “I just assumed . . . aphrodisia magic has only half the potency on virgins, so I didn’t think it would do much more than . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head and looking almost as embarrassed as Piper felt.

  She stood and brushed the leaves off her jeans. “Let’s pretend that never happened, okay?” she said, glancing at him and hoping her face wasn’t as red as it felt.

  He tilted his head, mischief sparking in his safely gold eyes. “Pretend you never attacked me in a fit of passion, demanding my—”

  “Yes,” she snapped. “It. Did. Not. Happen.”

  “What about that kiss? You went open-mouth first, so—”

  “Did not happen.”

  He grinned at her. She threw her arms in the air. Incubi. There was no reasoning with them. She grabbed the back door. “I’m going to sit back here for a bit,” she muttered grouchily. Lyre would never let her live this down. He should be begging her forgiveness for overdosing her on his seduction magic, but at least he’d painted her embarrassment in a layer of humor that made it easier to deal with. So she’d begged him to sleep with her. She hadn’t been in her right mind. He’d even tried to resist, which was pretty impressive for an incubus.

  Ignoring Lyre’s snickers, she crawled into the back of the car. With Ash sleeping across the seat, there was nowhere for her to sit except the floor. She curled up by his feet, ignoring Zwi’s suspicious stare. She licked her lips, shivering a little when she found they still tasted like Lyre—honey-sweet and a little spicy. The taste of incubus.

  “Lyre?” she murmured, closing her eyes.

  “Mm?”

  “Don’t tell anyone, okay? That I’m . . . I’m not . . .” She trailed off dejectedly.

  He was quiet for a moment. “I promise.”

  She exhaled slowly. “Thanks,” she whispered.

  No one knew her secret. Not that losing her virginity was such a terrible thing, but she knew her father and uncle would think it was way too soon. It wasn’t that she had lost it; it was how she had. She’d made the biggest, stupidest mistake of her life, and if Quinn found out, he would never let her become a Consul. He would see her mistake as proof that she wasn’t right for the job because Consuls always had to approach and deal with daemons with complete neutrality.

  Piper had blown that lesson so badly she would never be able to make up for it.

  . . .

  Piper had never met a daemon quite like Micah. It was obvious at first glance he was an incubus—beautiful golden-brown skin, pale hair, black-dusted gold eyes. The physique of a god, a smile that could charm anything alive. At sixteen with her birthday coming up in a few weeks, she’d met enough incubi to know what they were like. They always flirted with her. Secretly, she liked their attention. Most daemons ignored her like she was a total nobody but the incubi never did. They couldn’t resist her.

  When Micah first talked to her, it was all she could do not to swoon. He was gorgeous even for an incubus and his voice was unbelievable—deep but smooth and a little husky with a subtle, throbbing suggestion of heat—but she knew all incubi wanted only one thing. So while she enjoyed every second of his attention, she still made it clear he wasn’t getting anywhere with her.

  Unlike the other incubi, Micah didn’t tease and flirt for an evening then move on. He hung around the Consulate for three days, charming and polite but always with that hungry, appreciative gleam in his eyes that said he thought Piper was beautiful. He wanted her and she liked that he did. How could she not? Micah was unrivaled. He could have any girl in the world and he wanted her.

  But incubi were always after one thing and she knew better. He went on his way and she missed his attention, but mostly she was relieved.

  Then he came back. He stayed for a week, following Piper around, sweet and helpful. He told her things about daemons no one else had. He told her she was beautiful, and smart, and funny and he was so earnest and sincere, she believed him. When he left, he kissed her cheek goodbye. She blushed so hotly it felt like her face was on fire.

  She secretly counted the days until he came back. Only two weeks passed before he returned to see her. Together they snuck out of the Consulate and he took her on a midnight walk through the countryside. He asked if he could hold her hand. He barely took his gaze off her face the entire night.

  For three months he courted her, staying at the Consulate for days on end or tapping her bedroom window in the middle of the night for a few stolen hours where they’d walk all across the night-draped property, fingers intertwined while they talked. The first time he kissed her, she almost died. He made her crazy with wanting him but always asked before every little step, his expression questioning and somehow a little vulnerable, never quite sure if she would say yes. But she always did. She couldn’t deny him anything. Not when he looked at her as though she were the only woman on the planet. Not when he whispered, with an embarrassed little smile, that he’d never felt this way about any girl. That he wanted to just be with her, not in bed with her.

  After three months of secret meetings and sweet kisses—and some not-so-innocent kisses—he asked her to stay the night with him. She’d never been with a man before and she knew it wasn’t a good idea to lose your virginity to an incubus. Firstly, under normal circumstances, incubi were users—they used girls for sex, plain and simple. Secondly, incubi could and did set a standard that no normal man could meet. It wasn’t smart to start out with undiluted whiskey when you’d never had a sip of wine before. And thirdly, she knew she was already breaking the rules. Consuls had to always remain impartial and objective toward the daemons visiting their Consulate. It was their job to treat all daemons equally; favoritism would undermine the very foundation of the Consulates.

  But Piper was in love. Micah was in love with her. She wanted him so badly she could hardly sleep at night. So she said yes.

  He was everything she’d ever imagined. He made her feel things she’d had no idea she could feel, more intense than anything she’d ever experienced. He was brilliant, skilled, and attentive to her every desire—a god of passion. He drank her in, enjoying every inch of her as she enjoyed every inch of him. Every night that week, she snuck out of the Consulate to spend it with him. She was deliriously happy, unable to believe this gorgeous, amazing daemon was hers. On the seventh night, as they lay together in sleepy, harmonious silence, she leaned close and whispered that she loved him.

  She’d always remember the way his face turned toward her, his shadowy eyes glinting oddly as he smiled.

  “Do you?” he whispered back.

  Confused by his expression, she nodded mutely.

  Slowly, he rolled out of the bed and stretched, naked and devastating in his perfection. Then he turned back to the bed, towering over her with a smile on his perfect lips that held not the slightest hint of warmth.

  “That’s too bad, babe,” he said, callous and dismissive, “because you were a pretty good fuck for a virgin, but I don’t love you. Never did.”


  Each word stabbed her like a knife. He drank her in, but this time it was her shock, her pain and humiliation, and finally her horrified shame that made him lick his lips and smile like a satisfied cat. Then he turned and walked out of the room. It was the last time she ever saw him.

  Micah had played his game carefully. Even if his every word and touch had been a lie, Piper had been perfectly willing right until he walked out. He’d requested her explicit permission at each step and he’d never used aphrodisia on her. He hadn’t broken the rules of the Consulate. No one, not even Piper, could cry foul.

  She could cry, though, and she did for days. Even worse than falling in love, than being used, was her feeling of shamed stupidity. Micah was an incubus. How could she have fallen for his act? How could she have believed him when he said he’d never felt the same way about another girl?

  That’s when she finally and completely lost her innocent fascination with daemons. It was so easy to be intrigued by them—they were exotic, mysterious, attractive. Not to mention intelligent, witty, and often worldly and wise in ways humans weren’t. Her father and uncle had warned her over and over during her training that daemons weren’t gods. They weren’t any better than humans, even if they thought they were. That aristocratic attitude meant they often treated humans poorly and the biggest mistake a human or haemon could make was to believe daemons truly were superior.

  Thanks to Micah, Piper would never make that mistake again. Micah was impossibly gorgeous, but that didn’t make him better than a human boy. Even his looks were fake; it was a glamour, albeit based on his real appearance. His charm was a lie, his sweet compliments utter falsehood, and his affection nonexistent. She would take a normal, honest boy over a daemon any day.

  She may have learned her lesson, but far too late. If a rumor ever reached her father’s ears—and she was sure there were rumors; Micah would have crowed about his success to his peers—Quinn would decide once and for all that his magic-less, not-really-a-haemon daughter didn’t have what it took. He would send her off to a human boarding school—to a boring, daemon-free life that would never and could never include him or Uncle Calder.