I was dreaming, right?
But the innocent, small bottle on the nightstand tells a different story.
“I’m in so many problems.”
My bladder complains again and I get up and go to the bathroom on auto-pilot. My reflection shows wide eyes, blushed cheeks, and a stupid, hopeful smile.
* * *
I shower and dress, divided between wanting Nox to be in the kitchen or wanting to hide from him. My stomach is knotted with doubt, which is why I forget to use my empathy to confirm who is in the penthouse. Disappointment and relief battle inside me as I see Bryce and Isir making brunch.
“Good afternoon, sleepyhead,” Bryce greets. “Tell me, are you regretting your life choices?”
Isir chuckles.
“Nope,” I lie, sitting by the island and stealing a piece of perfectly crisp bacon.
“Let the girl be, Bryce,” Isir teases while she flips a huge Spanish tortilla and my mouth waters. “Need I remind you of what happened the last time you got that drunk?”
Bryce mock-scowls at her. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
Isir laughs mischievously. “You asked me to brush your hair, and then tackled me when I tried to do it and licked from my neck to my cheek saying: ‘Oh Isir, if only you tasted like a watermelon’. It was disturbing.”
I laugh until it hurts, Isir chuckles. Bryce tries to remain serious but caves in and laughs too.
“Oh gods, I feel better about my life choices now,” I say, almost breathless with laughter.
“Yeah, I figure you would,” Isir winks.
“Time to eat,” Bryce announces, filling three plates with an assortment of bacon, toast, Spanish tortilla, fried tomatoes, and steak.
We eat in companionable silence, all too busy trying to steal all the remaining bacon to talk much.
I fill the dishwasher and clean the kitchen, humming under my breath, my stomach almost uncomfortably full. Once I’m done, I join Isir and Bryce on the couch, smiling as both pat the spot in the middle.
“Food baby,” Isir groans, pressing a hand to the barely-there curve on her otherwise flat tummy; then reaches and pats Bryce’s still miraculously rock hard stomach. “Not fair.”
“So not fair,” I complain.
“Envy is not healthy, ladies,” Bryce smirks and lifts his arms above his head, stretching. His T-shirt rides up and gives us a flash of his eight-pack. Isir lobs a pillow at him and groans again laying back.
“So, ready to tell us about what made you want to get so spectacularly drunk?” Bryce prods.
I wince and cover my face with my hands, remembering the fiasco of my app presentation.
“Bryce,” Isir admonishes.
“No, no, I will tell you,” I lick my lips and take a reassuring breath before explaining to them about the app and how bad the presentation went, and how now I have few options left.
“Hmm,” Isir murmurs.
“Hmm means I’m a horrible person or my teacher’s a dick with something to hide or something else?” I ask.
“You are not a horrible person,” Bryce says, sliding his arm around my shoulders. I feel content sandwiched between Isir and him. “That guy does sound like a dick.”
Isir nods. “I’ve peered into social media, gods, it can be a horrible place. I say that if someone volunteers their thoughts, horrible or not, in a public place, then they can’t complain about others seeing them just because it doesn’t suit them.”
“But?” I ask.
Isir frowns. “But I can see how those with something to hide would make your life hell for showing their true colors. And I can understand why a university wouldn’t want to be associated with lawsuits. That’s why you have to launch it anonymously.”
I blink dumbly at her.
“Dinah,” Bryce says and I turn to look at him, “do you think you can pull together another project in less than two months?”
I bite my lip. “Maybe, but it will be hard to find something harmless but unique or innovative in such a short time.”
“I can imagine,” Isir says. “Do you want to try to do it?”
I groan and rub my forehead. “I have to, even though graduation is no longer something I’m looking forward to. The scholarship will be revoked if I quit or fail, and I don’t have twelve 0k laying under my mattress.”
Isir makes a dismissive gesture with her hand. “That’s nothing. I can pay for your scholarship. What matters is if you want to continue, you have enough on your plate as it is to add extra stress.”
I shake my head. “I owe you enough, not to mention Nox, I can’t accept such a large amount of money, it would be wrong.”
Bryce squeezes my shoulder. “Honey, you owe us nothing, we want to help. And well, that is far from being a significant amount of money for any of us.”
I wrinkle my nose. “But that’s the thing, what the hell have I done to deserve such generosity? It can’t be my charming personality.”
“Now, now, you’re underestimating yourself,” Isir says with a smirk, but something in her eyes and Bryce’s is guarded.
“I know there’s something you’re not telling me,” I accuse.
Bryce sighs. “It isn’t our secret to tell.”
I narrow my eyes at them. “It’s gotta do with tall, dark and grumpy, doesn’t it?”
Both Bryce and Isir nod.
I groan. Confusing, maddening, sexy demon.
Oh, gods, I called him sexy to his face!
“Not to mention, you have talents that could be vastly useful to us,” Isir comments, thoughtful.
“Talents?” I enquire, feeling uneasy.
Isir examines me, tapping her fingers against her knee. “If I understood you correctly, you can scour the web for images of an individual better than the world’s most popular browser, right?”
“Erm, that might be an exaggeration. I technically modified the open-source base code of one of the strongest browsers to conduct the searches,” I say, trying to simplify what’s a rather complex system.
“Right, so in theory, could you delete all posts that contain an individual across all social media?” Isir asks.
I nod. “In theory, yes I can do it.”
“Amazing,” Bryce says. “I can only imagine what goes on inside that head of yours.”
Isir groans. “I do know, and dear gods, it’s like a maze made of numbers with thunderous rock music and movie trailers playing in the background. It took me a full day and two potions to get rid of the headache.”
Bryce laughs. “I’m glad I’m not a telepath.”
I wince. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Isir says. “I love that complex brain of yours.”
“I’m not that smart, others are better, I’m aware of that,” I say because it’s true. “And why would I want to delete posts?”
“The internet has become yet one more tool human hunters use to track down and hunt supernaturals,” Isir explains. “If one of us loses control of the human façade and ends up online, it’s only a matter of time before the hunters are on their trail.”
“Oh,” I say, blinking.
“There are supernatural hackers that protect us from full exposure, but we are at a disadvantage,” Isir says. “It is a handsomely paid position too.”
I bite my lip, they’ve admitted themselves that some supernaturals are dangerous. What if I was asked to help hide one of those?
“It’s a lot to think about and you don’t have to decide now,” Bryce lays a hand on my knee and props himself up. “Ready to try to stab me?”
I blink up at him. “Erm, sure, yeah.”
Feeling off-balance by the decision I have to make, I stand and give a half-smile to Isir. “See ya.”
“Kick his arse for me,” she says with a wink.
“What have I done to you?” Bryce complains.
I chuckle and leave them to their good-natured bickering.
* * *
Bryce is just as strict as Nox. He made me run
around an abandoned junkyard and use shielding spells as he pelted me with fireballs. Then he brought me to the same gym Nox has brought me too many times before. Only Bryce and I needed to get on the subway and walk for a mile to get to it. I can’t help but wonder where Nox is.
My arms feel light and shaky after one-hundred deadlifts of a ton. As much as I’m happy to know I’m getting significantly stronger, I don’t think I’ll ever stop hating exercise with immortal passion.
“Arm yourself,” Bryce commands.
I give him a mock salute and walk with slightly wobbly legs to the corner where I laid my weapons. Not the amethyst ones. Those pull too hard on my power, and I’m afraid of hurting Bryce.
Bryce holds a long-sword made of steel with a hilt of silver. It’s plain compared to the artistic claymore I’m wielding, but it feels powerful somehow. I admire my claymore for a moment, with its three and a half foot, sleek blueish blade, and the amethyst at the base of the hilt. It’s so beautiful, I feel like giving a present to Dhanika.
“Right, what if you take one of my arms by mistake?” I ask, uneasy.
Bryce stands with his legs slightly apart, one hand behind his back, the other aiming the sword at me. “It’ll grow back, but rest assured, I will not.”
“Haha, hilarious,” I grumble.
Bryce lifts a blonde brow. “I am not joking.”
I blink. “Okay, that is way too cool and creepy.”
Bryce chuckles. “To be honest, watching and feeling how an entire limb grows back is a tad creepy. Now show me what you’ve got.”
I take a deep breath and attack, losing my sword in less than two seconds.
“Again,” Bryce orders.
I groan and pick up the sword, lunging again.
What I’ve got is not as bad as I thought, but still not a match for Bryce. Minutes pass and it gets a bit harder to keep my energy, I’m perspiring in a short time. The strands of hair that escape my knot stick to my neck.
“Again,” Bryce says as he disarms me for the twelfth time.
I growl, teeth clenched. How am I supposed to protect myself from a demon if I can’t keep the damn thing in my hand?
Heat flares behind my sternum, igniting a path down my spine and tainting my sight with golden and orange. It’s as if I’m seeing through flames, but my sight is strangely sharper than ever.
I lunge again, trying to remember everything Nox taught me in eskrima lessons, wishing I had a second weapon. Bryce uses his second hand for balance. His blows reverberate up my arms and prickle in the point of pain, but I can do this. I have to do this. I throw myself to the side and roll, blocking a strike. The back of my neck tingles and a strange calmness washes over me.
Bryce is breathing hard now, no longer holding back, a small mark appears on his forehead as he focuses. He’s blocking as many strikes as I am, using creative moves and switching hands depending on how close I get. For a moment, I think the lights have turned themselves on, but the yellow light is pouring out of me. Bathing me from head to toe with revitalizing energy, evaporating the sweat, and leaving behind a smell of ozone and fire.
Part of me starts to wonder where the hell did I learn to do half the things I’m doing. I can tell we’re both moving faster than the human eye can register, that the strength in each blow could slice through concrete. But if I start fretting, if I panic, I know I’ll lose hold of the strange trance of skill and power.
Bryce slows down, and I follow his lead. Both of our breaths are a bit accelerated, but mine is due to euphoria.
“How…?” I ask. My voice sounds a bit strange to my ears.
Bryce grins. “Asteri and Nephilim have genetic memory, you are hard-wired to be a warrior. If you allow your power to flow through you, if you trust yourself enough, instinct will take over.”
I look down at his sword, it’s dented in several places making it look almost like a saw’s blade.
I smile, closing my eyes, willing my power to return to the spot behind my heart, feeling every cell in my body electrified. No exhaustion whatsoever. I hum and open my eyes, seeing the right colors again. Bryce stretches as I sheathe my weapons in their leather again.
“You should carry a dagger with you at all times. While you learn to create dimensional pockets for the rest, it’ll make me feel better,” Bryce comments.
I chuckle. “Ah well, if it’ll make you feel better, then why not?”
* * *
I shower out of habit, just for the calming sensation of water hitting my skin. Isir has managed to persuade me to accompany her to Qetesh despite my insistence that I don’t want to be near Fae wine. Bryce is off to check on his club, Derek has gone with him.
I put on black jeans, the boots I wore the last time, and a navy-blue silk shirt with lots of buttons and no sleeves. No makeup and my hair as wild as it pleases to be. Isir asks me rapid-fire questions about nothing of much importance - my favorite bands, movies, etc. as we make our way to the parking lot. When we stop next to a black Ducatti, I realize why.
I chuckle. “You thought I’d be distracted enough to not notice you wanted to get me on a bike?”
Isir smirks. “You can’t blame me for hoping. It’s perfectly safe, and if we did crash you’d be better off than me.”
“So I’ve heard,” I say, shaking my head. “You don’t need to persuade me, I’ve always wanted to get on one of these. Would you teach me how to drive it sometime?”
Isir beams, her chocolate eyes bright. “I will do that, now put this on.”
I take the offered black helmet and strap it on obediently. Isir straddles the bike and I hold on to her shoulders as I settle behind her.
“Hands tight around my waist,” she instructs, I comply. “Ready?”
“Ready,” I say.
The bike comes to life and we’re moving in no time. I hug Isir’s waist harder on instinct as she speeds out of the parking lot and enters the traffic, zooming between cars and slower bikers. I laugh, my heart pumping fast, adrenaline and euphoria making me whoop. Isir’s body shakes as she laughs and goes even faster.
* * *
“That was so much fun we have to do it again!” I cry happily when we both climb off the bike on the back of Qetesh. Isir laughs and takes off her helmet, long raven hair waving around her shoulders and down her back.
“We definitely will,” she promises, linking our arms as we walk inside.
By now I’m used to the atmosphere of the club to feel just mildly out of place. Isir is immediately spotted by a worried-looking Stefan.
“Boss, we need you now,” he says urgently.
Isir casts a worried look at me.
“Off ya go,” I grin, taking my arm out of her grip.
“I won’t be long,” she promises.
Stefan gives me a nod and leads Isir towards the VIP section.
I steel myself and weave towards the bar. Ignoring cat-calls and flushing furiously with the long, appreciative look a tall, redhead fae female gives me. One of the bartenders, a tall vampire male with more piercings than I can count, gets me my coke and I sip it slowly, swaying a bit to the beat of the music.
I feel the heat on my back and then two hands appear on my sides.
“Hello there, gorgeous,” says a male voice I’ve never heard before, too close for comfort.
I wheel around on the stool and regret it at once. The tall, blonde man is just a couple of inches away. He is handsome and slightly inebriated, my empathy flares, and I can feel his lust.
“Ever heard of personal space?” I ask, attempting to squirm out of his grip.
He laughs, I can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Oh, come on, baby, there’s no need to play difficult.”
Argh. Baby.
I firmly, but carefully push him back. “Not interested, thanks, goodbye.”
He smiles. “One dance, I bet you won’t regret it.”
“I bet I will,” I argue, raising a finger in warning as he gets closer.
A small wave of panic begins t
o grow, but I tamp it down. I can handle a handsy, drunk college boy in an expensive suit. That’s what has me so nervous, I need to keep my head cool to not shove him too hard.
“Why do you have to be so stuck up?” he asks, anger hardening the blue of his eyes, a muscle moving in his jaw.
“That’s me, stuck up to the bone, now please get lost,” I say, barely holding back the growl in my voice.
The blond opens his mouth to say something but freezes. Relief and exhilaration mix inside my chest, speeding up my heart at once at the sight of the six-foot-eight, dangerous-looking demon Prince.
College boy turns around and I can tell when he looks at Nox’s eyes, his body goes rigid with fear.
“Are you unfamiliar with the meaning of the word no?” Nox asks calmly, his hands are in his pockets and he looks completely relaxed but the aura of power he emanates is intimidating enough.
College boy leaves so fast he bumps into a lean blonde girl who shoots him a murderous glare.
I chuckle, looking at Nox, trying to control the urge to cover my face in shame. Or worse, wrap my hands around his shoulders and feel his heart against mine as I did last night. His eyes soften as they lock with mine and I swallow hard.
“May I?” he asks, stretching a hand towards me.
I take it and jump off the stool, shuddering as he places his hand on my waist and guides me to the dance floor.
There’s no awkwardness, I wrap my hands on his wide shoulders and he slides his around my waist. We’ve done it many times before, but after the previous night, it feels different. I bite my lip and lean closer, our chests almost flushed. Surprise flickers in his eyes, but he doesn’t pull away. We’re not moving at the same rhythm as the other dancers, but I don’t care.
“Had a good session with Bryce?” he asks.
I nod. “Yeah, my weird ninja genetic memory made an appearance. I had fun.”
The ghost of a smile flickers on his lips. “Good.”
He leads me with ease. The music has changed into something slower, sexier. And if I were bold enough, I’d turn my back to him and place his hands lower…
Demon Warden: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy (The Cursed and the Fallen 1) Page 23