Domiel

by McClure, Dawn

  “Why don’t you lie down?”

  She shook her head. “I’m good.” Her voice was husky with forgone sleep. “Wow, this actually looks edible.”

  “I’m not going to flash you back to the plane, Kelsey. You can rest. We have all day to sleep.”

  She rolled her shoulders and picked up a slice. “I can’t trust anyone right now, least of all you, rookie.”

  It should piss him off that she used that demeaning term again, and yet he couldn’t summon the energy to get mad at her. She’d been through a lot, and he didn’t envy the position she found herself in.

  Unfortunately for her, he was merely biding his time until her forty-five hours were up. No matter what he thought, or what emotions she stirred in him, she was rogue. He had no other option than to bring her back to the Alliance. He’d just have to wait until her time was up and then haul her ass in.

  He really hoped she was innocent and could prove it, or they were both screwed.

  Friendship didn’t matter when it came to the actions of immortals. If she was found guilty, the Alliance would have to eliminate the threat, no matter the individual.

  * * * *

  Silence sat in the room with them, a physical thing, making the barely audible ticking clock on the wall a marching band stomping through the living area.

  Her eyelids drooped every few minutes, forcing her to sit straighter in the chair to remain awake. A little nagging voice in her head warned if she fell asleep, Domiel would materialize her to the plane, and she’d be airborne within minutes. She couldn’t afford to go back yet. Then again, if she didn’t get any sleep, she doubted she’d even make it as far as the club. Catch-22s sucked.

  Domiel was sprawled out on the couch, looking comfortable and wide awake. She’d caught him staring at the family pictures over and over again as time stretched on. He seemed fascinated with them. She, on the other hand, didn’t want to gaze at pictures that depicted a pseudo-perfect family. There was no such thing.

  Dinner had settled in her stomach, making her full and content and all too vulnerable to the demon lounging in front of her.

  “What can I say to get you to go to sleep? We can’t do anything until tomorrow anyway.”

  She had the insane yet undeniable urge to go cuddle up with him on the couch. The bastard had taken off his shirt, and try as she might, her gaze kept wandering to those abs of his. She was a sucker for a six-pack of abs—especially on a demon. And considering demonic blood was like manna from Heaven, thick and delicious, wrapping it up in a muscled, demonic package was almost too much to resist. Her fangs started to push through her dry gums.

  Not happening. Get your mind off his abs. “I guess I could warn you that if you flash me to the plane I could take out the pilot with my powers. I’m not a fan of dying in a fiery crash, but you probably aren’t either, so that could work.”

  He shifted on the couch and crossed his ankles. “That creates a disturbing visual.”

  Her eyelids drooped again. What she wouldn’t give to be back at headquarters tucked in her bed before any of this had happened. “Yeah, I guess it would. That was the effect I was going for.”

  The turtleneck she’d slipped on earlier made her neck itch. She wasn’t used to wearing sweaters. Without thought she ripped it off and flung it to the ground. Stay awake. “So why were you dreaming about me? And what was with the tat?”

  He had the audacity to look confused. “The tat?”

  Jesus, he didn’t even remember the tramp stamp he’d slapped on her back. Or was he just too busy trying to keep his eyes off her cleavage that he’d forgotten that detail? Wishful thinking on her part? “Never mind.” She wiggled down into the comfy chair. He must go through dream lovers as quickly as he went through the real thing.

  Domiel didn’t seem fazed by the fact that she’d tossed her sweater to the floor and now lounged in a black lace bra. Damn him. Why did she care, anyway?

  “Sleep, Kels. You won’t prove anything by being stubborn. You need your strength.”

  Her eyelids shut of their own accord, not because she trusted him, but because she just couldn’t stay awake any longer. She really didn’t think he’d take her back. Not really. If she was truly worried about it, she’d have killed him and been done with it. Yeah, that thought would help her sleep peacefully.

  When something brushed her arm, she sat straight up in the recliner, her heart jackknifing in her chest uncomfortably. Her senses ignited, her fangs lengthened.

  Domiel boldly placed a hand on her arm and pushed her back into the plush chair. “It’s just a blanket. I’m going to recline you.”

  Shit, she’d nearly had a what-day-and-time-was-it wake up. That kind of feeling you got after waking up from a rare afternoon nap. The second she’d realized Domiel was with her, she relaxed in the most inexplicable way.

  She nodded and let the scent of him override her senses until all she could think about, all she could smell, was him. She was so used to fighting demons, his spicy scent triggered her fight or flight response, setting her nerves on edge. But even that couldn’t keep her awake.

  She allowed him to flip the handle on the side of the plush chair that put her in a reclining position. Before she closed her eyes to sink into the oblivion that had been patiently waiting for her, she looked directly into his golden eyes as he leaned down toward her. For a fleeting second she thought he intended to kiss her, but he merely brought the blanket closer to her chin.

  The demon was tucking her in.

  Why did she suddenly feel safe with the one person she should be running from? He was tasked with apprehending her, and instead of fighting, she was practically purring as he tucked her in like a mother hen.

  She couldn’t contemplate the tenderness of his actions anymore, or how good they made her feel. The blanket was her undoing. She snuggled into the recliner, suddenly not caring what that demon did as long as she could sleep.

  As the oblivion welcomed her home, she silently prayed, as she did every night, that the nightmares wouldn’t come, nor the demon that frequently inhabited them.

  But if he did come to her, she’d be ready.

  Chapter Four

  Kelsey woke sometime around three in the afternoon. Light from the sun bounced off a crystal vase in a china cabinet and shot right into her face. Most seasoned assassins woke with their game face on, and she was no exception. Before her eyes opened completely she was on her feet and assessing potential threats.

  Completely out of her element, her hand brushed over foreign slacks that were alarmingly devoid of weapons. This had to be somewhere in the newbie manual—The Basics of the Alliance. Question: What to do when you wake up in a black lace bra, a hot demon is in the vicinity waiting to apprehend you, and your weapons are gone.

  Answer: Jump his bones and let him spank you.

  Holy crap, the uninterrupted sleep had fucked with her brain.

  She stretched as she took in the sight of Domiel, until she finally realized she’d bounded off the couch and not the La-Z-Boy. He was lying in the chair she’d been in when she’d fallen asleep. He’d moved her without waking her in the process. Well, damn. That was impressive. She must have been more exhausted than she’d thought.

  His big body was cramped on the recliner. One long leg trailed off the end of the chair, the other dangled off an armrest. A thin, blue blanket was wrapped up around his chest, his muscular arms tugging it until it was bunched under his neck. A shadow of stubble covered the lower half of his striking face. He looked uncomfortable as hell, and her heart melted just a tiny bit.

  Why hadn’t he just taken the bed in the master bedroom? It wasn’t as though he could watch her in his sleep, anyway. Answer: he just didn’t trust her.

  She left him lying on the chair, snatched her sweater from the floor, and went to find something to eat. She wasn’t built to relax when a job needed to be done. At least she only had a few more hours left, and then she could go to the club and wait for Lexie’s call, because fly
ing blind wasn’t her forte.

  She wiggled into the turtleneck, then rummaged through the fridge, finally settling on making a sandwich from a few scraps of lunch meat and cheese.

  Domiel was still sleeping when she finished eating. She let him sleep, figuring they had nothing better to do anyway. She contemplated running, but he hadn’t shown any sign of going back on his word. Why complicate things now? When the time came for him to bring her back, she’d cross that bridge. He wouldn’t like it if she truly had to fight him. He’d lose.

  Two small bags of chips, one diet coke, five cookies, and three excruciatingly long hours later he finally started stretching. His hand went straight to his crotch.

  She cocked an eyebrow and settled back on the couch as he went through his testosterone-induced morning process, or in this case, his evening process. An adjustment, a stretch, another adjustment, and soon enough he’d tented his jeans with his erection.

  He cracked an eyelid and leaned up to look at her. “What time is it?”

  His morning voice sent her hormones skyrocketing. Unusually deep and scratchy, it was sexy as hell. Not happening. “About six thirty at night. We need to get ready to go.” Actually, it looked as though he was as ready as he could get.

  “Give me fifteen minutes.”

  He snapped the recliner to the upright position and disappeared into the bathroom. She heard the shower running and couldn’t help but fantasize about him naked. He was so sexual in nature. There were times that she’d envied him his freedom to do whatever he liked with whoever caught his attention. They had names for men like him. Rake. Bad boy. Casanova. Weird though, he’d been none of those things since she’d been alone with him.

  Weirder was the fact that she was still wondering why he wasn’t. Domiel wasn’t her type. Yeah, he was a demon, and she tended to go for the fallen, but he was too arrogant for her tastes. Well, he used to be, at any rate. He’d walk around Headquarters like he owned the place—and all the women in it.

  Since they’d been stuck together he’d been … practically devoid of emotion.

  True to his word, fifteen minutes later he was walking out of the bathroom. “I’m finished.”

  The scent of soap wafted through the living room when he appeared, shattering her thoughts. Usually sexually charged, he now seemed thoughtful and quiet. Again she caught him looking at a family photo on the wall, and wondered what in the hell he found so interesting about it. Was it because he’d never had a mother and father? Angels had been created, and right from their first day contained knowledge of everything. Was he contemplating what innocence felt like?

  Had he wondered what sex was like before or after he’d fallen, and that was why he’d whored it around the Alliance? Who was she to pass judgment, anyway? She hadn’t been faithful to her husband when she was human. If she’d worn Domiel’s ring, instead of Joseph’s, would she have strayed?

  Where the hell had that thought come from? Her sexual encounters were much different from his fantasy about her. Lately sex was all about booze and bloodsucking. Maybe that was why she was becoming obsessed by the image of Domiel holding her so close in his dream. Tenderness was foreign to her.

  She shot to her feet and brushed past him. She normally didn’t fantasize about anyone. But with him … she was beginning to even care what he thought about her. Not good. Too soon they would face off if her time ran out and she wasn’t ready to go back. Hell, she wasn’t even sure she could clear her name in the small amount of time he’d given her. When that time ended, she’d either run or be forced to kill him. Not exactly a good way to start off a relationship.

  She shut the bathroom door and leaned against it, glad to have a moment to herself. She didn’t have time for this kind of thinking, but she couldn’t stop it. The thoughts made her realize that he’d never answered her previous question from the night before, and though she was glad for the reprieve from his presence, she found she wanted to know what he thought.

  “Domiel?” she called out from the bathroom.

  “Yeah?”

  His voice was close, just on the other side of the door. She wanted to see his face when he answered, so she opened the door. “Do you think I’m guilty?”

  He took a deep breath and leaned against the wall. “I think normally you’re quiet. Graceful. Beautiful and breathtaking. You’re loyal to your friends, and you do what’s asked of you. But more than anything, you do whatever it takes to get the job done. I’m thinking you get that from Alexia. Don’t forget that I saw you jump out of a speeding vehicle right after you hijacked a plane and hotwired a car, all to escape the Alliance. That doesn’t scream innocent to me.”

  His words did what everything else she’d been through in the last few hours could not. Lexie told her that she was a target of the Alliance—an organization filled with the oldest and most lethally trained immortals in existence. And Kelsey had been an assassin in the Alliance long enough to comprehend one important fact.

  No one escaped the Alliance.

  Well, fuck that shit. The Alliance was being played. The incubus was setting her up, and apparently he was doing a damn good job of it. Now she had to figure out how he was doing it.

  She took her clothes off and started the shower. Once in, she lay down in the tub as though she were having a bath, the cold porcelain chilling her.

  She closed her eyes and did something she should have done from the very beginning. Though she believed the demon was the one framing her, there were a few individuals she could check out, enemies she’d made along the journey of life. The demonic terror that haunted her dreams was number one on her list, though she had to look at every angle and every enemy she had. A few vampires hadn’t appreciated her hand in delivering Alliance force when she’d assassinated their friends or family. She needed any clues she could get.

  For Ambrose’s sake, she hoped he was sitting down.

  * * * *

  Kelsey had been silent for so long, Domiel had no idea of what she was doing. She could be connecting with Alexia, or committing the crimes she claimed she was innocent of, all under the guise of taking a shower. He’d given her forty-eight hours to clear her name, so he couldn’t exactly fault her for the way she used the time. But he couldn’t turn a blind eye, either.

  He pounded on the bathroom door, knowing he was a putz for allowing this to happen. Kelsey has a way about her once you get to know her…

  After a few seconds the door flew open and she pushed past him in a towel. “What do you want, rookie?”

  He followed her into the master bedroom. “What were you doing?”

  She tossed the towel to the floor and kept her back to him. “I connected to Ambrose.”

  Jesus, she had a nice ass. Her curves were deadly in themselves, never mind her skill. His dick hardened, and he fought his more carnal urges. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Is that all you did?”

  “Don’t believe me? Like I give a shit.”

  Oh, she gave a shit all right. His eyes popped open when something hit him in the chest. A hanger. Kelsey yanked a pair of black pants on, jamming her legs through. She did a little jump to get the material over her hips and buttoned them. She’d gone commando…

  He shook his head and cleared his throat. “What did he say?” Couldn’t have been anything good. Not after the way Ambrose had acted back at Headquarters before Domiel had left, and especially not if he took into account her mood.

  She turned to him and her breath caught, her mouth opened slightly, but she didn’t say anything. She was doing her damnedest to keep it together, keeping all the emotions he seemed void of bottled inside. “Kelsey…”

  Her hands tightened around the black shirt in her hands. “He said demons in Paris are committing suicide while under a trance of some sort. One of them fought the power that held them, and my name came up.” She took a deep breath and met his stare. “Ambrose believes I’m using my power to kill innocents. He said if I failed to surrender within the hour, he was goin
g to send in the heads of the Alliance.”

  “Listen, get dressed and we’ll talk—”

  “I’m a mark, Domiel. A hit. You’re not tasked with bringing me back any longer. You’re tasked with my assassination.”

  His cell. Ambrose had likely tried to call him and this new twist in his mission sat in his voicemail box. Why else would he send in the heads of the Alliance? Domiel hadn’t come back with her and hadn’t contacted Headquarters.

  Domiel couldn’t fathom assassinating Kelsey. Not after what she’d gone through.

  Her head dropped and she stared at the floor, looking so lost it nearly broke his heart. He wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her, but knew better.

  “There’s a … demon … who enters my dreams.”

  He had a feeling this was the first time she’d been completely honest with him. All barriers had been blown aside by her finally accepting that the Alliance was deadly serious in their pursuit. “What is this demon’s name?”

  “He never told me his name. Right after … I first met him when I was human. Hell, he’s the reason I’m a vampire. After I was turned he disappeared, and I searched for him for years but came up with nothing. Finally, after centuries, he came to me during my possession. I think he’s the one framing me.”

  “Demon? It takes a vampire to create another.”

  “The vampire fed from this demon before he turned me. He … that’s what happened. At least I think that’s what happened. No … I know that’s what happened.” Kelsey tilted her head back, a distant expression on her face. “It was the worst day of my mortal life. Of my immortal life. But I’m pretty sure it’s him.”

  “Why do you think this is the individual framing you?”

  “Because no one else makes sense,” she whispered.

  “Get dressed. I’ll be out in the living room.” He knew she’d take some time to compose herself, and he needed that time. He left her in the bedroom and used his powers to fix the phone lines. His powers were erratic, but this was a simple enough task, and he didn’t have to actually materialize anything. Just a quick fix. It took him a few tries, but desperation tended to lend its hand to success.