Sucking in a calming breath, she studied the bones. A skeleton. Someone full grown. Had this demon lived here too? At the same time as Quution? A toilet hole was in the corner, but its contents had long been scoured out by scavenger beetles. She feathered her hands along the wall. Symbols. Were they letters? Words? The ceiling and floor were covered with them.
Books were piled in the corner. Haphazard piles succumbing to gravity. This had to be Quution’s doing.
Except he wasn’t a willy-nilly guy. Those stacks would be neat and orderly. She padded toward the pile. She couldn’t picture him having access to this pile and not reading each and every one.
She didn’t know how old he was, but he had to be much younger than her. His appearance in the underworld was fairly recent. Like he’d just popped up out of nowhere, wielding his energy like a boss and disrupting their assumptions of how the underworld worked. When Melody had killed a particularly vicious Circle member and taken her seat, Quution’s defense of her had been a potent demonstration that full-breeds didn’t always hold all the power, a demonstration he’d pounded home by aiding even more half-breeds onto the Circle. A weird stance for a full-blood to take, but all the more effective because of his status.
She was nearly certain she’d solved the question of where he’d been until his first appearance. And since no one else knew, it had to be a helluva secret.
The skeleton—his keeper or another prisoner? A parent?
She might not have all the answers. But she had enough to bribe Quution to keep her nice and close. Or—her gaze flicked to the hole in the ceiling she’d been dumped from—she would once she clawed her way back out of here.
Quution nestled into the feather mattress on his stone slab of a bed. Other demons might see it as a weakness, but they’d never slept on a pillowtop Sealy. He was tempted to shuttle one down, but for now, his current mattress would have to suffice.
He hadn’t seen Xan since he’d returned. That was good.
At leaste he kept telling himself it was. It didn’t stop him from looking around each corner for the vexing female.
Teach me how to read.
He closed his eyes, dreaming of the day he could sleep without the fangs. After all these years, he should be accustomed to them, but they chapped his lips and he always woke up in a puddle of drool. His horns tucked in nice and tight against his hair, but the shoes were a pain. He couldn’t risk taking them off and letting the underworld view the healthy, humanoid feet attached to equal-length legs.
He’d committed to the elaborate ruse. Just a while longer.
His eyes drifted shut, a to-do list streaming through his mind. He needed samples from two more Circle members. Xan would be tricky enough, but Spaeth—could Quution trap some of the male’s radiation in an object? Would that be enough, or did the item have to be organic?
He couldn’t risk it. Only a physical part of the demon would do.
Then he had to…
Sleep claimed him, deeper than it ever had before.
When morning came around, the most delicious scent tickled his nose. Had he just been dreaming about running through a field? The scent hadn’t been wildflowers, it’d been…lavender, but that wasn’t completely correct.
He popped an eye open and jolted. Xan was stretched out on her side next to him with her head propped in one hand.
He flipped backward, rolling off the slab. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Xan peered over the edge. “Good morning.” She rested her chin on her hands. Lying on her belly, she was touching every part of his bedding. There was no laundromat in the underworld. He’d either have to possess a human to get some sleep or slumber while wrapped in her scent.
No. Just no.
Already, his body was awakening to the fact that a lovely female was naked in his bed.
“Get out,” he said through clenched teeth, refraining from scooting backward across his floor like a damn coward.
“Mmm, no. We have a reading lesson to start.”
“I said no.”
“Oh, but see now I have something you want. Or should I say, I know something you want to stay secret.”
Had she seen under his shirt to the unblemished skin underneath? Was the seam where his fake fangs were glued to his teeth visible? Had he talked in his sleep?
“How long have you been here?”
“I would’ve gotten here sooner, but…” Her face filled with annoyance, and swirls of lavender raced up and down her neck. A slow smile spread across the lips he tried hard not to fantasize about. “But you know how treacherous the path is from your childhood home.”
Cold washed over him from horns to toes. His world stilled. She was bluffing. No one knew where he’d grown up, or how. Only Stryke. His brother had been through the same conditions.
“Who’d the bones belong to?”
Brimstone and fiery hell, she might not be bluffing. “What bones?” he hedged.
“See, I’ve been thinking. You and Stryke are buddies. You have the same colored eyes. Similar shades of hair. You’re both energy demons.”
His lungs froze as he waited for her to work out that, like Stryke’s father, he might be hiding that he was a half-breed.
“And if I squint really hard and tilt my head, you two kind of resemble each other—in the face.”
He ignored her dig about his body. He should be proud that his appearance had fooled her. But it wasn’t the real him. The real him might repulse her. She went for fearsome demons. Even those former lovers who were humanoid like him had characteristics that struck fear into the beholder. His real fangs weren’t much longer than hers, and except for his horns, he’d pass for a tall human man. He was basically a vampire with horns that could manipulate energy. That was all he was.
A rat with bones sticking out of his head, his mother had often said. The demon whose bones Xan had asked about.
“Stryke works for me,” Quution said.
“Does he now? You know, I heard this tale once. His mother was a pure-blood demon, an energy one. However, plot twist: his sire was not. His father only pretended to be a full-blooded demon to secure a position on the Circle.” Her feet kicked in the air as she talked, hanging out on his bed.
Like a fucking slumber party.
“Word in the corridors is that Stryke was kept secret. Because how in the world could a full-blood and another full-blood have a half-breed? Stryke’s existence only confirmed his sire’s half-breed status. But you know what I think? You two share a mother.”
Quution’s mind cranked. Xan hadn’t guessed that he and Stryke shared both parents. He could deny it until his fake fangs fell out, but sometimes partial truths worked better.
“Those bones you asked about?” he said. “Our mother.”
“Scandalous. Your sire?”
“An asshole.” He wasn’t lying.
“Mm. So why the prison?”
“Mother had bad taste in males.”
“There’s a good choice down here?”
Too true. “So that’s why you snuck into my room? You’ll tell everyone Stryke and I are half-brothers if I don’t teach you how to read?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
Did she know more? Dare he push and find out? The time it took to teach her how to read would be enough for him to determine the extent of her knowledge while keeping others from learning the real nature of his relationship with Stryke. It wasn’t hard to make the jump that they were full brothers and Quution was a half-breed. And if that happened, he’d lose all credibility and be more hunted than he already was.
But if he played along, would Xan figure it out?
He’d have to keep her close to know. “Fine. Our lessons start this afternoon.”
“Got plans this morning?”
“I can’t teach you with these tomes. They’re too complicated, and carving into stone is too time-consuming. I’ll go topside and gather supplies.”
“Let me go with you.” Xan pushed herself u
p on her arms, her breasts swaying.
He tore his gaze away. “I can’t wait for you to find a host.”
“I have one.” She rattled off an address. “Pick me up there in an hour.”
He could argue, but seeing the host she chose and the way she acted in the human realm would tell him a lot about her. And they’d both be possessing a human. He’d choose a woman; that way they would be on equal footing.
If there even was such a thing with Xan.
Chapter 6
The search for a female host went faster than Quution had anticipated. He closed his eyes and zoned in on a college campus. Easy targets. The uncertainty of gainful employment after sinking massive amounts of money into an education made some students a mess of anxiety, their personal energy churning in one area of their brain. It left their psyche vulnerable. He could latch on to the energy pattern and squeeze his way inside.
He drove to the address Xan had given him. She had sprinted from his place as if worried that one more second in his bed would be long enough for him to change his mind.
She didn’t realize the secret she was sitting on was enough to destroy everything he’d worked for his whole life. He’d jump on one foot and yip like a Chihuahua if she asked.
Shifting in his seat, he marveled over the comfort of the host’s clothes. Black leggings and a college sweatshirt. Her bra pinched the sides of her ribs, but there was no waistband digging into her belly, no gaudy belt chafing her skin. The shoes were…what were they called? Ah yes. Ballet flats.
Comfortable. He should possess college students more often.
The car was a sturdy little sedan without a speck of dust. Her purse was meticulously organized. His host was obsessive. No wonder her mess of an energy pattern had called to him.
Arriving at a sprawling apartment complex, he slowed and pulled into the parking lot. Xan said she’d be by the south door, but all he saw was a large man perched on the bottom step.
The man’s dark gaze tracked him and Quution’s stomach sank. He should’ve expected that she’d find a host similar to herself. Smooth scalp. His skin wasn’t purple, but it was dark, and his muscles nearly squeezed out of the sleeves of his white tee. A man in his prime, just like Xan was in hers.
A man who would tower over his five-foot-three-inch host.
Equal footing his ass. How’d Xan always manage to keep the upper hand?
He pulled up in front of the man and rolled down the window.
“I’d recognize you anywhere,” he said drily.
“Nice specimen, isn’t he?” The low rumble was so unlike Xan’s husky voice, but the cadence was right. The man’s chin lifted. “She’s cute.”
To another, perhaps. To him, the hair was too distracting, the eyes too bright, and the skin too pale. But maybe she didn’t blackmail her partners, either.
“Get in, Xan.”
“It’s Marcus,” Xan said as she slid in.
“I didn’t get my host’s name.” It was Brooklyn.
Xan flipped open the glove compartment and rustled through papers. She held up the car registration. Damn her and her quick thinking.
He didn’t have to read the name printed on the card. He already knew. “Brooklyn Russo,” he gritted out.
Xan’s self-satisfied smile was irritating as she stuffed everything back in a way that would drive his host nuts. “So, Brookie. Where are we going?”
“To the dollar store.”
“Way to go all out.”
He slid his gaze to her. “I don’t like to needlessly siphon off my host. And the dollar store has an incredible write-and-wipe board selection and cheap markers. Also flash cards and kid books.”
She bristled at the word “kid.” Only when Marcus bristled, he took up half the car.
“Your host works out.” He changed the subject before she could dwell too much on his choice of teaching tools.
“Obsessively. I guess he grew up scrawny and got picked on.”
“Does he own the gym?”
“No, he’s an insurance agent. Between his insecurity and his crazy ex-girlfriend, I was able to get him to recite the incantation. He would’ve done anything for her. The fool believed in true love—you know, that bullshit humans fall for. What’s yours do?” Xan lifted a dark brow and eyed the petite host. “Or is she still in diapers?”
“She graduates college in the spring. Accounting.”
“College girl. I expected a more complex target out of you.”
“I use my energy efficiently.”
Xan bought a soda at the dollar store. When Quution shot her a questioning look, she shrugged. “Marcus has gotta realize treating himself once in a while isn’t going to kill him.”
Shaking his head, he went through his items. Letter flashcards. A set for numbers. Two write-and-wipe boards, one with lines for writing practice. And a pack of assorted markers.
“That’s all we’ll need,” he said. “Apologies that it was no big mystery.”
Xan drained her Coke, belched, and rummaged through the bag. She frowned at the kid book with balloons and a cat across the front. “Score one for Quution. This is insulting.”
“It’s not meant to be.” His voice sounded so prissy coming from this host. “I’ve possessed teachers before and these are the types of books they start with.”
The book got tossed back into the bag. “Teachers? Do you glean the careers from all your hosts?”
“I’m hungry for learning.” What else was he going to do? If he didn’t have plans for the underworld, he’d spend all his time in hosts.
Xan folded her host’s arms. The man’s muscles were intimidating, even to a guy like himself. “What are you getting from the accountant?”
“I can list the types of expenses Marcus can deduct for his insurance business.”
“Mm.”
She did that a lot. A simple acknowledgment of what he said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing but still giving him the sense that she wasn’t buying whatever he was selling.
“I’ll drop you off and go park where I found this host. We’ll meet back in my cavern. I trust you can get in with the wards up.” He didn’t bother to hide his annoyance. His wards worked on every being thus far but her.
“Why not study at Marcus’s?”
“You want to learn to read at his place?”
She lifted a giant shoulder. “Why not? It’s quiet and there are fewer spies around his apartment complex. I can’t say the same for the university.”
It was a good idea, but he hated disrupting his host’s life more than necessary. “I should get her back. Wasn’t Marcus going to work or something?”
“He works from home. So he’ll miss a few calls from an old lady wondering if her Medicare Plan A, B, C, or double-D will cover her meds.”
“Sounds important for the lady.”
Xan rolled her eyes. “Quution. He can call her back. Besides, he does most of his work in the morning and works out all afternoon. What was your host going to do?”
He checked his clothing. She’d been planning on going for a run, then cleaning her tiny apartment all day to avoid applying for jobs. He wouldn’t be interfering in any life-changing events. “Fine. Marcus’s place.”
Xan wanted to stab the blunt marker into the hand of Quution’s delicate host. It was like her own host had pheromone receptors just for this petite female and they were crossing over to Xan, making her horny and irritable. On top of her embarrassment at forgetting the order of the letters of the alphabet.
“Patience,” Quution chided. “Learning to read takes time and I don’t know if my methods suit your style.”
“You mean my style isn’t cutesy animals snaking over the letters?”
“Possibly. We’re very similar to humans, not that any demon will admit it, so I think this will work. But you’re thinking you can learn something in a few hours that takes humans a good decade or two to master.”
“I’m not human,” she bit out. She wasn’t a male, either,
but that didn’t stop Marcus from sporting an erection whenever Brooklyn leaned over in her chair and flashed her shapely ass.
Quution sighed and pushed the write-and-wipe board in front of her. On it he’d written a single A. She was supposed to fill the board with As. “As you pointed out, I was imprisoned most of my life, with nothing to do but read the books my mother was allowed to have. It took me many hours, every single day of my life, until I knew freedom.”
And he hadn’t stopped learning. What had happened to him down there had only created a tyrant with a dry eraser. He tapped the board with a shiny fingernail.
She growled at him, the sound so satisfying in Marcus’s deep timber, and traced her first A. Holding the marker didn’t feel as foreign as she’d feared. Marcus’s hand adapted naturally even if his consciousness was suppressed. And she’d used enough knives and blades to do her dirty work over the centuries that she was nimble when it came to tools.
“After the human alphabet, are you going to teach me the demon languages?” She should’ve asked earlier, but she’d been too euphoric over having trapped him into a reason for spending hours upon hours with her.
“Most of our languages revolve around the human alphabet, English in particular. You’ll find many of the tomes written in some form of English, though some are very Shakespearian.”
She forced her voice to sound cultured. “Indeed.”
As she mimicked his A for two more lines, his stare burned into her. She concentrated on her task. If he had something to say, he needed to come out with it.
“You think I’m arrogant,” he finally said.
Why’d he care what she thought of him? “Yes. You’re rather stuck-up. It’s why all the Circle members hate you.” She was exaggerating. Only half hated him. But she might be able to get him to confide in her.
“Not all of them.”
“You mean Melody? She seems fond of you. Did you save her life?”
“She saved her own.” He was quiet for a moment. “What do the others say?”
“Oh…” She had no idea. Fear demons weren’t high on the social ladder. It didn’t help that she embraced the distrust and outright hatred of her kind. A few comments and a couple of knowing looks, and her companion ended up crying or a mess of nerves. Her popularity was understandably low as a result. Especially after she’d so publicly destroyed her competition to get a seat on the Circle. Her stony competitor had been so afraid of heat and melting his rock-hard armor off that she’d convinced him to peel it off lest it trap him. When he’d gone running and screaming from the fight, she had smiled triumphantly, only to see horror on her spectators’ faces. She could’ve beheaded the guy and they would’ve cheered, yet the prospect of losing face so publicly was anathema to them. “That you’re planning to take over the underworld.”
Demon Q: New Vampire Disorder, Book 8 Page 5