by Mina Carter
Opening his eyes he watched as the glow behind the curtain grew brighter. He sighed and gently disengaged Neri's hold. His time had run out. With reluctance he slid from the bed and looked down at her, trying to imprint her image on his memory. She was beautiful. Like an angel from heaven, a beautiful sleeping angel he'd been fortunate enough to touch for a short while.
Trying not to harbor the hope that she would still be here when he woke up, Knuckles turned and walked out of the bedroom.
The day passed slowly. Knuckles, encased in stone by the sunlight, was only aware of it in a passing sense. “Sun slavery” his kind called it, and it affected them all. Well, almost all. There were tales, more myths in Knuckles’ opinion, that some gargoyles were free.
The key? As in the best fairy tales…true love. Knuckles snorted in amusement whenever anyone mentioned it. He believed in reality, the here and now, things he could touch and feel. The idea that love could break the hold of the sun was madness. He might as well try the “sun-block” the backstreet wizards hawked. That didn't work either, except as vermin control for naive vamps.
The sun began to set and on the ledge next to the balcony Knuckles started to stir. Stone cracked and moved. Knuckles’ eyes opened as the sun sank past the horizon. With a patience born of years of practice he waited for his limbs to ease up and lose their leadenness. The heavy claws on his feet dug into the ledge, punching through the concrete to latch onto the steel bars within as he stretched his wings and welcomed the night.
Filling his lungs with the crisp air, Knuckles rolled his shoulders and hopped off the ledge. By the time he'd dropped to the balcony floor his feet, and the rest of him, were human, or as human as he got anyway.
He was already pushing the balcony door open when the first stirring of unease hit him. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. The feeling crept into his bones and washed over him like a malignant whisper. Eyes narrowing, he stepped through the door and into the small apartment.
The place had been ransacked. It was a mess.
Not the usual “bachelor pad” kind of mess. This was the full on “you've been done over by a gang of thieves” look. Every drawer and cupboard in the place had been opened, and the contents strewn all over the place.
Knuckles ignored the mess, treading it underfoot as he walked through the main area. Alarm coiled in his chest and wrapped around his heart, tapping out a warning beat as he got further into the apartment. There was something wrong; the burglary was too obvious. It was like the perpetrators had a copy of the cop's tick sheet; forced entry—check, electronic items missing—check… Knuckles strode through into the bedroom.
As soon as he looked at the bed, the bed he'd shared with Neri, all his instincts went into overdrive. It was rumpled, the covers half off, and the pillows were strewn around the room. Okay, calm down. This could be innocent; she could have left before these yahoos arrived. She's fine.
Then he saw one of her shoes peeking out from under the duvet, and his bellow of rage shook the building's foundations.
"It's that bastard Carrick. I told you he'd screw up sooner or later,” Jaren snarled as he paced the small office like a caged tiger.
Knuckles, squeezed into the chair in front of the desk, felt like joining him, only willpower keeping his ass in the chair. That and an appreciation of just how much building work cost these days. The club was old and solidly built but it still wasn't up to dealing with an out-of-control gargoyle. There wasn't much that was up to dealing with a gargoyle on a rampage, not even a maximum security cell.
Knuckles’ huge frame was taut with rage as he waited. It was a rage so complete the air around him all but crackled with it. The potential for his change coiled just under his skin, warning anyone with the right instincts that he was about to lose it big time. A rage so intense it put Jaren's spitting anger—and Knuckles had never seen the normally cool, calm and collected incubus so mad—on par with a childhood temper tantrum.
"And you're sure she couldn't have left early and made her own way home while you slept?” Daelas, who sat on the other side of the desk, asked. His voice was calm, his tone considering, the opposite of the irritation in his partner’s pacing.
Knuckles bit down a snarl as frustration bubbled up and threatened to choke him. Daelas wasn't questioning his word; it was just, like Knuckles, he was having trouble believing someone had broken in with the gargoyle outside the room and Jaren downstairs.
The snarl deep in his chest escaped, rumbling around the room like the heavy bass did in the club. Carrick was an arrogant bastard. First he'd set his bully boy on an innocent woman, and now he'd staged a kidnapping on Knuckles’ territory. Not things the big gargoyle took lightly. They were the sort of things he was happy to rip arms and legs off over…
A small hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed in reassurance. Knuckles started. He hadn't heard anyone move behind him, which was unusual with his hearing. He looked up into the kind eyes of Sage—Daelas and Jaren's mate. She held his gaze for a moment and a sense of peace settled over him, before she turned to the two incubi.
"She left her shoes.” She nodded to the strappy sandals—exhibit A—which sat on the desk in front of Daelas. “Believe me, no woman forgets her shoes. Not with how much those babies would've cost anyway."
"It's that fuckup Carrick, I tell you,” Jaren snapped from the doorway, obviously pissed off with the debate now. “When I find him I'm gonna rip his arms and legs off."
"Get in line.” Knuckles’ deep voice filled the room. “You can have what's left."
Daelas sighed. “ Children! We have to find him first!"
Knuckles picked up one of the sandals; it was tiny in his hand. “Won't be a problem,” he said as he touched the soft satin. He just wanted to touch something of hers and feel a sense of connection.
Despite the seriousness of the situation nothing kept Jaren in a bad mood for long. “Shoulda told me you had a fetish, man. I'd have put you in lost property with the Cinderella box."
Knuckles just growled in response and extended his middle finger, a silent but effective method of communication. The tall incubus didn't take offense, just grinned and retreated to the French doors leading onto the balcony, leaning against the doorjamb with his customary, effortless grace.
Knuckles turned his attention to the shoe. Closing his eyes he concentrated, taking himself back to last night, back to having Neri in his arms…her scent as he nuzzled her neck. Instantly it all came back to him, as though she were there right in front of him.
It was a scent imprinted on his memory. He'd know it anywhere, unique and perfect like the woman herself. He breathed deeply, savoring the memories: the smell and texture of her skin, the soft sounds of pleasure she made and the silken heat of her body as it wrapped around his cock like a tight fist.
"Down, boy,” Jaren teased, his chuckle dirty and knowing. Knuckles’ eyes flicked open and he treated Jaren to a nasty glare. Bloody incubi and their senses. What with these two and the siren down on the floor, a guy couldn't even think about getting a hard-on without someone teasing him about it.
"I can track her… Neri. I can track Neri."
Knuckles flicked a glance around the small group, then looked back at Daelas and Jaren. He was going after her regardless. However, he did feel a sense of obligation to his employers…although the staff at Moonlight & Magic were more of a family than anything he'd had before. They'd taken him in and given him a job. They'd given him a place to belong, a place to guard. To a gargoyle that was as good a commitment as getting married and raising two point four kids in a house with a white picket fence.
Daelas read the unspoken question and nodded. “Jaren, go with him. Take Tiny as well. We'll hold the fort here… I shouldn't think you'd have any trouble with Carrick's goons, ugly bastards the lot of them, but human. All the same, you have a problem, call for backup. Understand?"
Knuckles levered himself out of his chair, a smile pulling across his features. “We won't need
backup."
Shrouded in darkness on a downtown rooftop, the three men from Moonlight & Magic watched the closed and shuttered warehouse they'd tracked Neri to. “Men” was a loose description; all three were undeniably male, but only Tiny could hold any true claim to humanity.
"Yeah, she's in there, all right. Trail goes cold here.” Knuckles’ voice was lower and rougher when in his true form.
Jaren lounged against the maintenance hatch, arms folded over his broad chest. Dressed head to toe in black and with a grim look on his usually smiling face he cut a dangerous-looking figure.
Knuckles was used to seeing him at the club, in all out charm mode, so it was weird to be reminded that the two were demons. They might not be on the nastier end of the demon scale like the torac or the azeash, but even an incubus could kick ass when the situation called for it.
Tiny, though, was less nonchalant. Where Jaren seemed unaffected by the situation and the fact they were about to charge in to the rescue, Tiny's heavily muscled frame radiated tension. Dark eyes intent, he studied the building opposite.
"One entrance and exit,” he stated, standing fluidly. Like the rest of the staff at Moonlight & Magic, when in the club Tiny made an effort to walk and talk human but out here he didn't bother. His movements held the sort of fluidity and grace which hinted that the usual humanoid skeletal structure was optional for him. Not for the first time Knuckles wondered exactly what the non-human part of Tiny was.
"I don't like this. I smell a trap."
Jaren laughed. “From Carrick? Give me a break. The guy thinks he's a player, but he couldn't organize a drinking contest in a brewery. And even if he did manage to set something up, he's human. His goons are human. They wouldn't know what to do with a paranormal if one bit him on the ass."
"He got into the club and snatched the girl, didn't he?” Tiny's comment wasn't challenging or antagonistic, but it drove the point home.
Jaren winced. “Yeah, sheer fluke. We concentrated so much on wards and crap, defenses against paranormals, that we didn't guard against humans. We didn't think we'd have a problem there. Everyone knows what we are. But Daelas is working on alarms today to stop this happening again."
Knuckles shifted impatiently, frustration mounting in his chest. The heavy claws on his feet rasped across the concrete of the rooftop. “We bustin’ this joint or are we gonna stand around talking all night?” he demanded, the need to find Neri forming a deep knot in the center of his body.
"Yeah, enough talk. Take us up then, big guy. Drop Tiny on the other roof. See if you can find another way in. Doesn't hurt to have a backup plan."
Knuckles unfurled his wings and spread them out with a small sigh. It felt good to stretch and feel the night breezes against the sensitive membranes. He flexed his wings and beat the air, the powerful muscles in his shoulders bunching and releasing.
Tensing his legs under him, he used the powerful muscles in his thighs and calves and sprang into the air. He easily caught the updraft from the street below and let it fill his wings. The next instant his claws were full of cloth as he grabbed his companions and dropped off the edge of the roof.
Chapter 6
"Wakey, wakey, sleeping beauty."
The soft, teasing voice broke through the darkness surrounding her. Despite the amused, almost loving tone, one that would have had most women smiling and snuggling down deeper into the covers, Neri stiffened in wariness. An automatic reaction to a voice she recognized.
Jason's voice, and she didn't trust that fake loving tone as far as she could throw it or him. Come to think of it, she'd like to throw Jason…under a bus for preference. How the hell had she gotten here? The last thing she remembered was Knuckles’ apartment…
Unfortunately, even though common sense told her to fake unconsciousness until she knew what was going on, the small movement of her body had already given her away.
"She's awake. Time to get on with the show, I think."
Neri opened her eyes and groaned as a stabbing pain assaulted her. Her head hurt like hell and nausea rose in her throat as she tried to focus.
"Hmm, I think Carlos may have hit you a little hard there.” Jason stood over her, smiling. As always he was dressed sharply, but there was something about him, something different. Neri frowned as she tried to work out what.
"Would explain the headache then,” she replied in a flat tone, as though being hit by one of his bully boys was an everyday occurrence. She gave up on studying him, instead tried lifting her hands to her head. Then Jason and any difference in his personal style, real or imagined, ceased to be important.
She was tied up tighter than a bloody hog roast.
Fear flooded through her as she yanked on the cords around her wrists. “Jason, what the fuck is going on?"
He looked down at her, enjoying her discomfiture, his blue eyes alight with amusement and the charm that covered the darker aspects of his personality.
"I do apologize for the crude restraints, but I can't have you running off in the middle of what promises to be a highly entertaining party.” He knelt down next to her and grinned, a grin which contained sharper teeth than she remembered, especially around the canine region.
"Shit…” She exploded into movement and tried to wriggle away, wishing she could scurry back as far as possible. Her eyes fixed on him as fear crawled up her spine to hammer on the back of her skull. “You're a vampire!"
He preened. “I have been elevated to that status now, yes. It's been a long time coming, but my potential has been recognized. I just have one small task to carry out, a task which you, my dear, are going to help me with."
That was so not happening. She wouldn't help Jason if he were the last man on Earth.
"Over my dead body,” Neri told him, resignation threading through her fear. Knuckles turning up to rescue her would be the answer to her prayers, but miracles didn't happen to people like her. She'd always had to fight tooth and nail for any break she got, and if things could screw up, they did. She was going to die whatever way she looked at it, but she'd be damned if she was going to help Jason in any way, shape or form.
His smile chilled her. Another difference she'd been trying to put her finger on hit her. His eyes were different. Behind the amused blue there was something else, something hungry.
"That's not going to be a problem—” he started, but the rest of his sentence was cut off by a horrendous crash somewhere out of sight. His head snapped up and he smiled, a slow, terrible smile that had Neri's heart flipping over in her chest. She knew without asking that things were about to get a whole lot worse.
"Seems our guests have arrived, Carlos. Show them in, won't you?"
Her back still to the wall, Neri looked around and took in where she was for the first time. The mattress she sat on was in the corner of some kind of warehouse, one complete with containers across the opposite wall. However, none of this held her attention.
No, that privilege was reserved for Jason and his gang of merry men. She frowned. They'd cleared a space at this end of the building and had set up some sort of stage area. As she watched, two men were setting up spotlights on the edges of the space, all pointing inwards.
"Planning a little song and dance, Jason?” she asked to cover her confusion. What kind of guy kidnapped you for a show? “I didn't know you were into the arts. I hope you can dance better than you can sing. I've heard you in the shower, remember?"
She had a bad feeling about this, one reinforced when her former lover turned and gave her a smile that lifted the hairs on the back of her neck.
"Oh, I'm not going to be performing. You, Neri my dear, are going to be one of the star attractions."
Uh-oh. Neri scrambled to her feet, using her bound hands to grab whatever purchase she could on the wall behind her.
"Not a chance, Jason. I'm done doing anything for you. You handed me over to Neil to fucking die, remember?” she spat, fighting through her fear as a door somewhere in the building crashed open. At the same
time, somewhere in the opposite direction another snarl sounded, one of fury. Jason lifted an eyebrow.
"Interesting, they brought a demon. Never mind. It just makes this far more fun. And don't swear at me, my dear, I don't like it,” he chastised as, in the next breath, his cold hand closed around her throat.
Neri gasped and stiffened as his sharp, claw-like nails scraped against her throat. She hadn't seen him move. That was the thing about vampires—what made them so dangerous—they could move faster than the human eye could register. Stuff like that was all over the new “Keep safe after dark” leaflets they handed out at women's self-defense classes. Hell, at any self-defense classes. Vamps were equal opportunity when it came to opening veins: male, female, adult or child. Some of them didn't care as long as the red stuff flowed. The days of pepper spray and a personal alarm in your purse being all you needed were long gone. Now it was all holy water and personal protection spells from a spell warden. If you could afford them, amulets worked well, but good amulets were hellishly expensive.
"Show time,” Jason announced, his breath fanning over Neri's face. It stank of old blood and death. She gagged, trying to turn her face away.
The door behind them crashed open. It was less the door opening and more the door disintegrating in the frame, as something hard hit it from the other side. The dust settled, revealing that something hard. A massive figure—an unmistakable figure—stood framed by the ruins of the door.
Knuckles.
Neri's breath caught as he walked from the shadows. No, not walked. He stalked. She hadn't seen him fully in the light on the small balcony at his apartment, but she was seeing him now.