Beneath the Night

by Jen Colly

  The young man shook his head hard, so certain he was right. “She wouldn’t. Not ever.”

  “Rollin, this is Lord Navarre Casteel.” Captain Savard stepped aside, his arm held open toward Navarre. “It was our lord she brought back from the healing sleep. Back to us.”

  Navarre was half certain he wore the same dumbfounded expression as Rollin. She’d wanted to stay in the city bad enough to put aside an apparently devastating fear of feeding. Did she stay for Rollin?

  Rollin gaped at Navarre, then the captain. His breath left him in a rush, and he shook himself. He looked horrified, and the anguish stretched over his face was painful to witness. “Oh, God. She did it for me. For us.”

  “She did.” Savard nodded. “So go home, Rollin. See to her.”

  “Right,” Rollin said, followed by a pained laugh. His eyes narrowed hatefully on the captain, then landed on Navarre. “You go on, rule your city. Play with people’s lives. Have fun. I’ll just go home, sit at her bedside, and wake her each time she screams from the nightmares you gave her, my lord.”

  Rollin turned on his heel and walked out, the door slamming so hard behind him that the cupboard doors rattled.

  “I feel as if I’ve missed something,” Navarre said, waiting expectantly for Savard to fill him in.

  “As have I,” Vidor chimed in, his gaze fixed on Navarre. “You took nourishment from Cat?”

  “Cat wanted to stay. Navarre needed to feed,” Captain Savard said, unapologetic. “I was aware she avoided men, my lord, but never knew why.”

  “And her nightmares?” Navarre asked.

  “I knew nothing of her fear of being bitten.”

  Navarre stood abruptly. “Where is she?”

  Savard checked his watch. “She’s working now, on level nine.”

  “Nine? Why?”

  “She’s a Guardian,” Vidor supplied.

  Navarre looked to Savard for confirmation.

  Savard nodded. “She’ll be on patrol.”

  Navarre heard his captain, but wasn’t processing the information as efficiently as he’d like. All he could focus on was the emotional turmoil he must have caused her. In his hallucinogenic state, he couldn’t even remember if he’d been gentle with her.

  “I need to make this right.”

  Chapter 8

  Cat rolled her right shoulder to ease the tension and lengthened her strides. Dyre was at her side. They weren’t headed to a call, just making their presence known. Their heavy, purposeful strides drew attention, reminded people they were protected.

  Dyre was talking to her, saying something about the shops on the level above. She nodded when he paused because she felt she should, but she’d tuned him out a while ago. Cat was numb.

  Deliciously warm, thrilling memories had taken over her mind, and she basked in the vivid recollection of Navarre’s touch. She’d never thought to experience a man’s touch without fear. Lucid and in control of her actions, what she’d felt had nothing to do with being blood drunk.

  She not only fed Navarre, but had been completely fascinated by him. Him and those damn silver nipple rings. She’d never seen such a thing, and never would have guessed the steadfast lord of the city would have such a kinky secret.

  A rush of heat washed over her just thinking about him. This wasn’t like her. Cat worked alongside passably handsome men every day, some confident or wealthy, others possessed a kind temperament, but none had ever appealed to her. No man had stirred her desires, until Navarre.

  She’d met Navarre exactly once, and that man made her treasured sense of self-preservation vanish. How was that possible? The comfort she felt in his presence, the peace in her soul, shouldn’t exist.

  A day ago she’d patrolled on high alert, adrenaline pulsing through her veins. Now something different buzzed inside her, all the way down deep into her bones. She couldn’t name it, had never experienced it before. Whatever this was, it didn’t dull her senses, but left her restless.

  “Do you plan on keeping this pace all day?” Dyre asked.

  She glanced at him, only now noticing how quickly they rushed by the bricked walls. Slowing, she shrugged.

  “You’re here with me, right?” Dyre dropped his voice, a whisper meant only for her. “I can see you’re in your head, and that’s fine. But if I need you, are you with me?”

  She had no way to explain her preoccupied thoughts to him. Besides, she wasn’t entirely sure anyone was supposed to know the lord had come back from near death. Cat kept her eyes forward, but nodded sharply. “I’m here.”

  “Then on to the next level,” Dyre said, and together they rounded the corner into another silent street, headed for the staircase at the end.

  In the distance, a man stood at the bottom of the stairs. Waiting. Cat automatically dropped her hands to the short swords on her thighs, but didn’t grip the hilts. Her fingers twitched, ready to fight. She needed a fight.

  With each step, her tension eased, like a thread connected her to this man. Something inside her recognized him before she’d come close enough for his identity to register.

  Navarre stood at the base of the stairs, his long hair falling straight and loose around his shoulders. Cat sucked in a breath. When last she’d seen him, that very same shirt had been split open, baring his chest to her. Her gaze rose to his lips, lips that had touched her neck, parted to take her vein. She shivered.

  Dyre jerked to a stop, made the sign of the cross over his chest, and whispered, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. You’re alive.”

  “Dyre.” Navarre gave the Guardian a regal nod. “There has been no official announcement. Please, keep this knowledge to yourself.”

  “Of course, my lord, but why are you down here? Alone?”

  Navarre’s eyes shifted to her. “I need a word with Cat.”

  “Ah, I see,” Dyre said, then abruptly shook his head. “No, actually I don’t. What’s going on here, Cat?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly, holding Dyre’s questioning gaze. “But I’m sure it won’t take long.”

  “Two nights in a row. Abandoning me is becoming a habit.” Dyre shook his head again and turned back down the hall, giving them what privacy he could.

  When she no longer heard Dyre’s footsteps behind her, she asked, “What do you want?”

  “It seems I’ve wronged you. A rather protective young man informed me of your aversion to feeding.” Navarre tried to look her in the eye, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I was unaware, and certainly not in the best state of mind when I… Cat, I apologize. I hadn’t meant to hurt you, or cause you any distress.”

  “No need to apologize. I’m not hurt.”

  “And the bad dreams?”

  “Horrors of the past, not the present,” she admitted, and he seemed visibly relieved.

  “Are you healing?” Navarre reached out to touch her neck, and she jerked out of his reach, sucked in a readying breath as her hand dropped back to her blade. “What can I do to make this right between us?”

  She could see the disappointment in his eyes, understood that she’d put it there, but she flat-out couldn’t handle this conversation. Could she grow to like Navarre? Absolutely. However, physical contact and his genuine concern were things she didn’t understand, or want.

  “There is nothing between us, therefore nothing to make right. I did what I had to do. The consequences are my own.”

  Cat’s radio popped on, snapping with static. “Alarm. C-Three.”

  “Dyre!” she yelled, spinning around in desperate search of her partner. Dyre raced around the corner, headed straight for her, never slowing. Cat yelled, “Stay with him!”

  “I heard it. Go!” Dyre shouted as he ran toward Navarre.

  Cat glanced back at Navarre, bent her knees, leaped into the air, and vanished into her Spirit form. The two men were on their own. C-3. Casteel wing. Third room. Her home. Midday. Five kids asleep in bed. Unprotected. She couldn’t move fast
enough. Her Spirit sailed straight up through eight levels of flooring. People jumped, glanced around nervously at the empty hallway as she passed, the cold air of her Spirit frightening them. Not her concern. If the call went out to the radios, then the alarm had been pulled inside her home. Guardians on the upper levels would already be outside her door.

  She was close, speeding down the main corridor toward her home. The massive pond at the entrance to the Casteel wing came into view, and Cat dropped out of Spirit, running even before her body fully regained corporeal form.

  Six Guardians lined the narrow corridor outside her home, three on each side, backs against the wall. They hadn’t entered, which meant they couldn’t. Quietly, she came up between them. Some flinched, turned their swords toward her before recognition allowed them to settle back into formation.

  Soren was plastered tight against the wall at the edge of her open door, gun drawn, listening intently. He would know what happened. Cat slipped in line behind Soren and demanded in a whisper, “Tell me.”

  “One man. In the kitchen,” Soren whispered back. Then he shook his head. “I can’t hear what he’s saying over the girls’ crying. I don’t think they’re hurt, just scared.”

  High-pitched wails rose from inside her home just as Rollin shouted, “Stay back.” Barro snarled, a wild menacing sound that usually came with a swipe of his paw. Her panther generally reserved that kind of malice for demons. If Barro thought the situation was bad, then it was.

  “I’m going in,” she whispered.

  “No,” Soren said firmly. He threw an arm out, trying to block her without touching her. “We wait for Caradoc.”

  “I’m not waiting for the damn negotiator to show up. My kids. My rules.” Cat unbuckled the knife holsters from her thighs and passed them to Titus. He gaped at her, stunned to find himself suddenly struggling to hold the handful of weaponry. She removed her knife belt next, hanging it over Titus’s shoulder, then pulled three small knives from the belt and tucked them inside her waistband at the small of her back.

  “Give me your gun.” She held out her hand, and when Soren didn’t provide the weapon, she snapped her fingers.

  “Cat,” Soren warned. “You won’t have a good shot in there and could hit one of the kids.”

  This wasn’t just strategic reasoning for Soren. He cared for those kids. He and his mate, Faith, had helped her raise them. The kids even called him Uncle Soren.

  The tearful cries of the two youngest girls rose again. Cat didn’t have time to consider his wishes, and she was out of options. “Don’t make me take it from you.”

  He handed over the gun, and Cat skillfully checked the weapon. She turned to the men gathered and waiting. “Until I give the signal, you do not move in. We clear?”

  “You are not in command here, Cat,” Soren reminded her.

  “Like hell I’m not. You step foot inside that room before I give the all clear, and I’ll save a bullet for you,” she whispered harshly, cocked the gun, then ducked inside her home.

  She had a straight visual line through the small entry and into the kitchen. Two steps in and she saw the man who had cornered all five children in the kitchen. He had no weapon, but something else was off. His hair was straight and unmoving, like he’d used product to sweep it up, but it had all fallen down and now just lay oddly. Why did this bother her?

  She glanced at the kids, then settled back on the man. Now she saw the problem. His hair was black. Too black. Dyed? Probably demon.

  The man stepped toward the kids and Maeryn wailed loudly. Oriana joined her panic, and they clung to each other where their sibling had stuffed them, deep into the corner of the room. Jovan stood firmly in front of the two young girls, staring down the intruder with Cat’s old hunting knife gripped tight in his small fist. Rollin and Dulcina provided cover for the three, their swords drawn and ready to defend. Barro had been cornered, too. Crouched low, his tail twitching against Dulcina’s leg, the panther snarled and swiped his massive paw at the intruder.

  Gun aimed at the man, Cat took a steady step closer, trying to get into a better position. When the man caught sight of her, his eyes flared red before settling back into hazel. The demon grinned broadly.

  She smiled back. Something in her presence had triggered the red in its eyes. Good. If she had the power to trigger the demon’s emotions, she could manipulate it, keep its focus on her and away from the kids. “Something I can do for you, demon?”

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” the demon said, still smiling, his voice friendly.

  Unarmed, the creature was likely planning to use its teeth on the kids. Careful to strip her voice of disdain, she asked, “Really? Had I known, I wouldn’t have been late.”

  “This seems so unfair. You have an advantage,” the demon said, its sulking voice causing the hairs on the back of her neck to rise. It held out its hands to prove it was unarmed. “Put your gun down.”

  “I’ll pass. Thanks.” Cat hated demons. They looked so much like men, like vampires, and the fact that absolutely any man could be a demon in hiding kept her on edge most nights.

  The demon’s smile faded, and its top lip drew back in a sneer. “No more playing. Drop the gun, or one of the children will be shot. Maybe two.”

  Its statement didn’t track. The demon had no gun. Someone else was here. Barro snarled again, but not at the demon. Something else had drawn the panther’s attention. Cat caught a movement from the corner of her eye that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

  Another demon stepped from her bedroom, and this one pointed a gun at the children. This one was different, serious. It even kept the red at bay, its steady brown stare just as creepy. She had a problem. Two demons. And one had a gun.

  Maeryn and Oriana sobbed louder, hugging each other tightly, their dark heads pressed close together.

  “Put your gun down. Come now, do as you’re told, Ellette,” the unarmed demon crooned.

  Hearing her given name again was like a punch to the gut. No one had said her name out loud since she’d been a child, not ever her. This demon knew her.

  “You remember me? No? Probably not.” The demon shrugged slightly, then turned and pointed to Oriana, his hand mimicking a gun. “You were her age when I last saw you.”

  Cat’s mind tumbled, processing the admission. If this demon truly did know her, then it was just as deadly as the demon holding the gun. She needed to end this fast.

  Cat uncocked the gun and flipped her wrist up, pointing the weapon toward the ceiling. Slowly and carefully she went down on one knee, placed the gun on the floor, and slid it into the kitchen, behind her and away from the demon.

  Its red eyes flared again, a smile curling its lips. Nodding to the other demon, it opened its mouth to speak, and that’s when Cat fell to her side.

  She whipped a throwing knife hard across the room at the demon holding the gun. It hit home. The gun dropped and the demon went to its knees with a strangled howl, holding its bleeding wrist, its hand hanging limp and useless.

  Cat popped up onto her knees, and sent a second knife flying toward the same demon. It let out a grunt as its head whipped to the right. The knife sank deep into the demon’s temple. Its body followed the sideways momentum and the demon crumpled to the floor, unmoving.

  The more immediate threat eliminated, Cat pivoted to face the last demon. It had already closed the distance between them. The creature struck out, its heavy fist connecting with her jaw. The force sent her to the floor, facedown.

  She flipped to her back as it reached down for her, and she waited, more than prepared for a vicious round with this one, but suddenly a man’s arm curled around the demon’s neck from behind.

  Cat’s mind raced. No Guardians would have entered, and that was not Rollin’s arm. Rollin was much taller than that average demon, his arms thick from lifting weights and hefting swords. Who was in her home now? What the hell was happening?

  She planted her feet firmly into t
he floor and pushed, sliding on her back across the smooth floor toward the gun she’d dropped. As she twisted and reached for the gun, she heard, and felt, the sharp thud against the floor. She knew the sound of bodies breaking better than most. Someone’s head had collided with her kitchen floor. Cool metal at last in her hand, she rolled onto her back, cocked the gun, and aimed.

  Navarre stood over the motionless demon, fists clenched at his side, his eyes wild and angry. He’d taken down the creature barehanded. The demon lay prone, a small pool of black blood beneath its hair where its head had been slammed into the floor. Slowly Navarre’s eyes shifted from the demon to meet hers.

  He towered over her. The way Navarre looked at her, like he saw only her, was purely male. Primal and possessive. She kept the hammer pulled back on the gun.

  Chapter 9

  The urge to hold Cat, to promise he would keep her safe, was overwhelming. Navarre reached out to her. If she would just take his hand, allow him to comfort her.

  She didn’t move. Lying on her back, she kept the loaded gun pointed at him. Then it hit him. This fear in her was different. Cat was more terrified of him than she had been of two demons.

  Navarre dropped his hand, forced his breathing to slow. “Are you hurt?”

  Cat snapped out of whatever trance she’d been stuck in, but didn’t answer. Instead she uncocked the gun, bolted to her feet unaided, and glared at him. “I almost put a bullet in your brain.”

  “You didn’t.”

  Her eyes narrowed on him briefly, then she turned and yelled toward the open door. “Soren, all clear!”

  Six Guardians flooded the room. Three ran to the far demon, Soren and two others to the one Navarre had taken to the floor. Though still bleeding, the demon lived. The Guardians quickly bound the demon’s hands together.

  “What the hell, Soren?” Cat snapped as she handed the gun to him.

  “Do you know who he is?” Soren asked, holstering his weapon. “Capable as I am, I cannot naysay the lord of my city.”