Brazen Moon

by Ruth D. Kerce

  Brazen Moon

  Ruth D. Kerce

  Book 1 in the Passion & Hellfire series.

  To fulfill an ancient covenant, Asherton Karlitis, a half-demon Hell Hunter, turns against his kind to fight demons bent on destruction. He must save one special female from becoming a victim and breeder—a woman he craves for himself. He will seduce her and mark her with his essence.

  Dalila Na’eem has helped Ashe with paranormal research for some time. He’s super sexy and their attraction is undeniable. He has long been the focus of all her erotic fantasies. Tonight he wants to make them reality.

  When she finds out the truth about Ashe, she is shocked and afraid. But her need for him is enough for her to accept what he is and to trust this half demon who says he knows how to love.

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Brazen Moon

  ISBN 9781419927454

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Brazen Moon Copyright © 2010 Ruth D. Kerce

  Edited by Pamela Campbell

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book publication March 2010

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Brazen Moon

  Ruth D. Kerce

  Chapter One

  Decree of Demonic Desecration

  During the Brazen Moon, from the deepest pits of hell,

  the incubi arise.

  With their black demon seed, they seek Earth’s bitches,

  to desecrate and chastise.

  In blood and darkness, the cambion born

  will destroy all purity and light.

  With the covenant then broken, the Houses of Lucifer

  shall bring evil’s delight.

  Prince Asmodeus, House of Asmodai

  * * * * *

  Asherton Karlitis, born into the House of Haborym but now turned Hell Hunter, stared up at the night sky with trepidation. The Brazen Moon had risen over St. Eden.

  The sexual appetites of the incubi would be at fever pitch this night and each night hereafter until they captured and—with their demon seed—impregnated certain human females who possessed special paranormal abilities.

  Each year the sexual raids took place and typically lasted from one to three nights. The offspring from the joining of mortal and nonmortal ultimately served to strengthen the House of Asmodai and its powers across the land as well as deep within the nether regions of Lucifer’s Kingdom.

  Normally, on nights such as this, he would not plan a hunt nor attempt any human rescues. The collective powers, in force, were too strong. However, he knew one of the targeted women.

  Dalila Na’eem.

  She held a position as a psychology and history professor at the local community college. Her specialty was paranormal beliefs in ancient cultures. She often helped him with historical research of the surrounding New England territories where he hunted down the demons sent into human civilization to cause chaos and pain.

  The ministers of the nether regions denied any knowledge of such demons, admitting nothing and saying all rogues were disloyal followers on unauthorized missions. He knew better. He knew how the royal houses worked and had long turned his back on his own royal roots from the House of Haborym, ruled by the duke himself.

  Ashe had not chosen the path of a Dark Lifer, but had been born into it. Now he rebelled against it, fighting his own kind, and fulfilling the covenant set forth long ago by the opposing sides of darkness and light, as it had been originally intended. The powers must remain balanced or all of creation would implode.

  The incubi were not destined to be victorious this night. He would see to it and help the woman, who had so generously helped him time and again, not to become one of their victims.

  Only mildly telepathic, as far as he knew, she seemed an unlikely target. Asmodai’s followers had more likely chosen her as a way to strike out at him, a way to exact revenge for his betrayal. Though few Hell Hunters existed in the modern world, compared to the number of demons, the ones who did were all experts at causing their own chaos and pain for those who sought to instill terror in humans. Dalila would not become one of their Seed Breeders, and as such an incubus’ whore, as long as he had breath and blood in his body.

  She believed him to be a former police detective turned paranormal investigator. He had built his cover well over the years as he moved from place to place. She would soon learn differently. But he swore that he would not be the cause of her desecration and descent into darkness.

  From across the empty field, Ashe stared up at her apartment building. Behind one of her curtained windows shone a soft light, indicating she was home. She would not understand what he had to do for her own well-being but he had made up his mind. It was the only way to guarantee her safety from any dark attacks now or in the future.

  A buzz caught his attention and he pulled the cell phone from his leather jacket. The modern world provided many conveniences to which he had grown accustomed. He checked the number—an informant from the House of Zepar, whose residents caused temporary or sometimes even permanent insanity in human females. They often worked closely with the House of Asmodai. He would need to take the call.

  * * * * *

  Dalila heard the clunk of heavy boots and looked up from the research report she was studying. A shadow caught her eye and her gaze immediately lowered to the wooden floor and the crack at the bottom of her apartment door. The light coming in from the hallway turned to black. The hair on the back of her arms rose and a shiver skittered down her spine.

  Her nerves were shot from examining controversial academic documents on supposed Toltec Shadows of Terror. Now a shadow stood outside her door. Fate’s timing did not amuse her.

  She waited. Whoever stood out there moved on and the light under the door returned. She let out a sigh. People were always coming and going. Normally she didn’t think much about it but there seemed to be something disturbing in the air tonight. She was about to return to her reading when the shadow suddenly reappeared.

  Another shiver swept through her and she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling of impending danger. She wasn’t expecting any visitors. From the sound of the stride and weightiness of the steps, she knew a rather large man had to be standing out in the hall. He simply stood there and her uneasiness grew. Well, either knock or go away.

  Slowly the doorknob began to turn.

  Oh, God.

  An eerie, chilling cry echoed in the hall.

  At the sound, she jerked and a shock of terror raced through her entire system. Move, move, move! But no matter her desire, her limbs refused to cooperate. Come on. Don’t freeze up now!


  She’d seen shadows underneath her door before but they’d always kept going down the hall. Whoever was out there this time not only wasn’t budging but wanted to get in.

  As if a chain around her body had suddenly been cut, she tossed the report aside and jumped up from the chair. With shaky fingers, she grabbed a bat she kept against a wall near the sofa.

  Long ago, she should have moved out of this old building and into a more modern one with proper security…and a peephole. But the history and old-time feel of this structure had fascinated and drawn her as if she had some personal connection to the ancients that went deeper than her educational background and interests. Right now though, she craved a very modern, semiautomatic pistol.

  In a stance that would make a baseball coach proud, she waited. If whoever was out there broke in the door, she’d knock him well past home plate and scream bloody murder until somebody called the cops.

  After a moment, the shadow moved on once more and the light reappeared under the door. As the seconds passed and the light remained unblocked, she began to relax. She tiptoed over to the window, cringing as the wood floor creaked beneath her feet. She peeked out through the slit in the drapes.

  One of the streetlights had gone out, which created disturbing shapes and shadows across the pavement and grounds. She didn’t see anyone leave the building. All looked deserted. Tonight the entire area, inside and out, felt eerier than a horror movie.

  Maybe the person in the hall had been one of her neighbors, though she found that hard to believe. She hadn’t heard a door open or close. Not even after that chilling cry.

  Just the memory of the shrill sound shook her to the core. It seemed in total opposition to any sound she imagined a male would make. Any sound any human would make. Had she been the only one to hear it?

  A sharp, loud knock made her yelp and set her heart to beating triple time. She spun back toward the door and gripped the bat tighter.

  Another knock.

  She glanced toward her phone. If she called the cops, she’d sound loony. Officer, there’s someone knocking on my door. But if it were the same someone who had tried to get in—

  “Dalila?” a male voice asked through the wood.

  The sound of that deep, sexy tone caught her full attention and she stopped halfway to the phone. She took a tentative step toward the door. “Ashe?”

  “Yeah.”

  She stepped up to the door and clicked off the lock. Her fingers curled around the knob and she opened the door a crack. When she saw it was indeed him and he was alone, she loosened the chain and opened the door fully.

  As always, Ashe’s appearance affected her, sending all sorts of sexual tingles throughout her body. His nearly black eyes, generous black hair, broad shoulders and an overall fit physique made her mouth water and her pussy ache. Highly intelligent, with more than a slightly dangerous aura about him in a sexual-fantasy-bad-ass kind of way, made a compelling combination that was hard to resist.

  His interest lowered to the bat in her hand. “Are you all right?”

  “Did you just turn my doorknob?”

  “The doorknob? No. Why? What happened?” His gaze reconnected with hers.

  Nervous that the intruder might be lurking nearby, she couldn’t hold his look. She glanced up and down the hallway. “Did you see anyone out here?”

  He also glanced around. “No. Are you all right?” he asked again, his tone more insistent.

  “Yes. I guess.” No physical harm had befallen her but psychologically she felt wrecked. She looked back at him and held his concerned gaze this time. “Someone tried to get into my apartment.”

  An emotion she couldn’t identify entered Ashe’s eyes and he visibly stiffened. He muttered something under his breath but she didn’t clearly hear what he said.

  He paced down the hall and peered around the corner. After a moment, and appearing quite tense, he returned to her side. “Good thing I was on my way up. He must have heard me coming and ran off.”

  “Yes. Probably so.” Ashe had walked her home on several occasions so was familiar with where she lived. Supposedly, he was temporarily staying somewhere near the cemetery, but she wasn’t certain exactly where. That was not an area she frequented. Too many people had disappeared down there over the years. The locals had even dubbed it Death’s Doorway. Ashe hadn’t seemed worried by the stories.

  She was certainly grateful for his presence. His timing couldn’t have been better.

  His nose suddenly crinkled, as did hers.

  A nasty smell assailed them. The old tire plant on the outskirts of town must be spewing caustic chemicals into the air. They often worked late shifts out there.

  “Come on in. I’ll light some scented candles.” She stepped back from the door and set the bat in the corner.

  Ashe stepped inside and secured the door. Damn—sulfur.

  An incubus had been here. Probably trying to lure Dalila outside her apartment so he could drag her down into hell. If Ashe caught any of those demons around her, the perpetrator would burn.

  Time was growing short. He had to mark her with his essence before they got to her. It would be too late to save her once a desecration was done. He had already seen to it, unbeknownst to her, that her apartment was protected. An incubus could not penetrate any entry—door or window. But if she ventured out of these protected confines after dark, she would be vulnerable until the Brazen Moon no longer lit the night sky.

  Her apartment was as he remembered—clean, with an antique charm that made him crave simpler times. Books were plentiful from every genre imaginable and stacked in neat piles. He had been outside the building a couple of times, after walking her home from the library, but only inside once, and without her knowledge, which was when he had set up the protection barriers. He had not taken the time then to look around, not wanting to linger too long and chance being discovered.

  He walked through the living area, getting a more intimate feel of her from her personal surroundings. She busied herself lighting candles, and as she moved, his gaze followed. He could not get enough of the sight of her. Her raw sexuality had drawn him from the first moment they had made eye contact in the college library. No human female had ever affected him so deeply.

  Even dressed in casual sweats as she was now, with her long blonde hair pinned up in a messy bun, he wanted her. He sensed sexual interest from her too, which would make what he needed to do easier. Though from her non-flirtatious nature, he doubted she was one who engaged in sexual adventures on a regular or casual basis. If she refused…

  “I admit I’m a bit shaken,” she suddenly said, looking over at him with a vulnerable smile.

  “Nothing will happen to you with me here.” Not as long as he regarded her as his responsibility. “Do you want to call the police and report what happened?” Psychologically, reporting the incident might make her feel better. In reality, it would not protect her, for no human could guarantee her safety. Only he could do that.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I doubt whoever was lingering outside my door will be back. They’ve probably moved on to other pickings.” She rubbed her arms. “Besides, there’s not really much I could tell the police. If the person was indeed trying to break in, they certainly didn’t try very hard. And I never saw the guy.” She glanced toward the couch a moment. “Oh, sorry. Please sit down.”

  “Thanks.” They had tried to get in. Hard. Ashe would bet on it. They had just been immediately repelled and probably still sported some charred skin to show for it. He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the arm of a nearby chair. Then he sat on the couch. Dalila stood rooted to her spot, wringing her hands. Compassion for her filled him. He could tell how upset she felt. “Maybe you should sit down too.”

  Stilling her hands, she laughed. “Yes. I suppose so. I thought this was going to be a quiet weekend. So much for that.” She moved forward stiffly. “Can I get you anything?” As she perched on the edge of the cushion next to him, she looked toward the
door. “Um, a beer?”

  “I try to stay away from alcohol.” With his powers, alcohol did not mix well. He reached over and touched her hand. Her head immediately snapped to the side to look at him, her blue eyes wide.

  “You are all right, Dalila,” he assured her, speaking slowly and in a steady tone, hoping to relax her. “Calm down and sit back.” The ache in the middle of his chest grew. He hated seeing her so out of sorts. Though he had already acknowledged that she affected him on a different level than he was accustomed to, he had not realized until this moment just how deeply his feelings for her actually ran.

  She pulled in a heavy breath then released it. “I’m acting silly, I know.”

  “No, not silly.” He squeezed her hand. Her fingers felt icy cold and concern weaved its way more tightly through him. “You do not have to worry as long as I am here.” He would tell her that as often as she needed to hear it. Eventually it would sink in and her fears would ease. He hoped. He wanted her to trust him. He needed her to trust him. Completely.

  “Your hand’s very warm. It feels good.” She cocked her head. “Did you know that you never use contractions when you talk?”

  He laughed at the unexpected question. Her way of reestablishing some normalcy after what happened, he supposed. “My schooling was a bit…strict, to say the least.”

  “I like it.” She smiled. “It sounds very old world in nature.” She stared down at their joined hands.

  Little did she know how old world. He pulled his hand back, not wanting to worry her with an uninvited, lingering touch. The thought almost made him chuckle. Instead, he grunted low in his throat and shifted as his cock stirred, for he knew that soon he would be touching a lot more than her fingers.

  She looked up at him. “Normally I don’t get so rattled.” She glanced toward the door. “But something…”