Defying Instinct (Demon Instinct Series)

by Jaye A. Jones

  Cyrus, taken aback at the direct question, and the direct compliments, placed my packages and coat on the untouched by my wrath couch and bowed his head, tilted slightly to the side, which I was learning meant he would answer my question in a moment.

  I joined Rowan on the opposite side of the store, who had been hammering a nail into the wall when we came inside.

  A hammering Hammer. It made me grin.

  He’d fixed one of the broken bookshelves while we were gone, and improved on what we had before by bolting the shelves into heavy-duty beams screwed into the wall. Guess he expected me to lose it again, and was preparing for the inevitable.

  I admired his handy work as Cyrus took his time considering how to answer my question.

  Rowan did instead. “There are things about the ‘realm you have yet to learn.”

  “Tell me, then,” I said, but to them both, willing Cyrus to speak to me.

  Cyrus narrowed his eyes, glanced around The Bookstore, and met Rowan’s champagne stare.

  “She’s Scion,” Rowan said with a matter-of-fact tone as if that was the only excuse necessary.

  At Cyrus, I gritted my teeth. “If that’s your basis for telling me something, then don’t.”

  Then I felt guilty, because Cyrus flinched. He was so sensitive. I had to remember that.

  “We don’t have unlimited glamour,” he finally admitted begrudgingly. “We can’t be any form we want to be.”

  The growl that came from Rowan made me snicker, even though I didn’t know why he was upset. The males were probably telepathing about something. Obviously Cyrus didn’t think I should know about their secrets. That Rowan thought I should know them made me feel something I didn’t recognize.

  I chuckled again because Cyrus’s reaction to one of Rowan’s aggressive sounds was to roll his adorable brown eyes.

  It was the realest, most human thing the brunette Hammer had done all day.

  “Two, maybe three forms is typically the limit,” Rowan offered, and I smiled at Cyrus.

  I considered it for a moment. “How do you pick the forms?”

  Cyrus answered, and I felt triumphant. “When we’re young and struggle to use glamour, we fight to maintain a form. When we do, it’s such a relief that we don’t have to constantly work at it that we keep it for a long time. The longer we keep a form, the more a part of us it becomes.”

  The words were out of my mouth before I could censor them, thinking about myself more than them. “Why use glamour at all?”

  I knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say. There was a wave of something in the air coming from Rowan that I didn’t know how to process, so I read it as disapproval. What did I know? I didn’t know what demons really looked like. Maybe they preferred to stay hidden.

  I back-pedaled before either male could say anything, and asked Cyrus, “So those cute dimples of yours? And Rowan’s champagne eyes?”

  I had the good sense to feel embarrassed about drawing attention to the way I classified Rowan’s eye color, but pushed it away and focused on Cyrus’s answer.

  “Eyes are a different story,” Cyrus said, finally seeming to come to terms with me knowing this. “We can’t get them to change much from what they naturally are, just dull them a little. Rowe’s eyes look like that no matter what form he’s in. Rowe doesn’t like glam—”

  Cyrus caught the nail Rowan threw at his face as if it were no more dangerous than a wad of paper.

  “What about your eyes?” I asked, diffusing the growing hostility in the room, and my lingering concern for Cyrus’s face.

  “Brown,” he said in a tone that, coming from a human, would have been accompanied with a shrug, then added, “but metallic brown.”

  “Do you have another form, Cy?” I asked, trying out the nickname, wondering if it would bother him. Or encourage him to see me as any other female.

  Right before my eyes, the tell-tale tinsel-shimmer of changing glamour poured over Cyrus’s body. The demon who looked like the most adorable, young human turned into a much heftier, much more menacing version of the same person. His floppy, brown hair turned darker, stringier, longer. Brown eyes turned radiant. He was starker, in a way, more harsh looking. Those dimples were gone. And he seemed to gain ten years, a foot, and a hundred pounds of muscle.

  Involuntarily, I shuddered.

  The frightening figure grinned like the adorable figure had, and tinsel-shimmered again, returning to his dimpled form.

  “You can see why I choose this from my repertoire.”

  “Any chance Rowan would take the stick out of his backside for five seconds to show me his other form?” I mock-whispered, and Cy snickered.

  “You’re playin’ with fire, girl,” that smoky voice tingling my ears.

  “Eh,” I smiled, a little shocked by my own words as I said, “A male like you needs some play in his life.”

  Cyrus laughed, then realized that he was having a conversation with me and retreated without moving. I could see it in his expression, feel it somehow in the air. I’d gained a little ground, but he was gone again.

  I wanted to ask more about glamour. I wanted to know if either of his forms was close to his true form. But it felt impolite somehow. Didn’t make me any less curious about it though.

  “How was your shopping trip, Savannah?” Grayson asked, entering the room from the stairs that led to my apartment with a tool belt hanging loosely from his waist and no shirt. On principle, I didn’t look away with wide eyes and a blush, keeping my stare defiantly on his face.

  I’d never read a romance novel. Only now did I even understand their appeal. But I had a good grasp of what they were all about. And if there were any novels with a handyman, Grayson today was the image they would use for the cover.

  As I considered what that book cover would look like, I answered, “Shopping blows. And everything chafes.”

  “Perhaps you require a trip to the Underrealm. I could have my personal tailor craft you some—”

  “What were you doing in my apartment?” I interrupted, quickly getting acquainted with Grayson’s sugary attempts to entice me.

  Grayson blinked once, but answered, “fixing the hole I made yesterday.”

  “Oh,” my disappointment in not getting to yell at him for invading my privacy was aggravating. “Thank you, then.”

  “Cyrus, would you take Savannah’s purchases to her room and hang them up for her?”

  The Hammer looked unsure for a second, but Grayson nodded. Before I could say I could do it myself, Cy put a hand on the pile of my things, and was gone. Just gone.

  “Wh-where did he go?” I gaped. Was he so fast that I hadn’t seen him span the room and ascend the stairs?

  But I heard a yelp from my apartment, then something falling. It sounded like Benn, the way he might sound if a full-caste demon popped in beside him out of thin air.

  “Hammer demons can jump,” Grayson said, as if that was enough of an explanation.

  The question was nearly out of my mouth before Rowan explained, “Teleportation.”

  With eyebrows raised, I turned to him. He looked pretty romance book covery as well, now that I really looked at him. A Hammer in a white t-shirt with a hammer in one hand and a nail hanging from the side of his mouth, a sheen of sweat on his neck… Wow.

  “Awesome. Can I do that?” I asked, covering up my analysis of how a basic undershirt never looked so good.

  “Hammer demon thing.”

  “But Hadrian yesterday…”

  Grayson seemed uncomfortable and disapproving when Rowan explained, “that’s a spell. More of an illusion than what we do.”

  I nodded. Of course. And all I could do was telepath and rip open minds with my own…if half-caste Razers could even breach…and if I could learn how that was accomplished.

  I stilled, disturbing myself. I didn’t want to learn how to breach minds, the Razer’s most well-known skill. The idea made me queasy.

  Benn came stumbling down the stairs, locked eyes
with me, and out of breath, cried, “Hammer demons can teleport!”

  I laughed, and said, in an equally impressed tone, “They just told me. How cool is that?”

  “Can you do it? Can they take someone with them? What’s it feel like?”

  Even though there were two demons who knew the answer and one who would know from personal experience, Benn asked me. I wondered why, now that he was in the presence of the demons he was so fascinated by, he seemed reluctant to talk to them.

  I human-like shrugged, and raised my eyebrows at Rowan. He turned away, and I may have been hallucinating, but I could have sworn I saw him grin.

  Benn resigned himself to not getting an answer to his questions, so I let it go too. Though, I was starting to feel uneasy about how little I knew about the demon world. Wasn’t it dangerous for a Scion at the mercy of demon laws and brutal demon customs to know nothing about them?

  The question I’d been avoiding all day struck me. Now what? I’d been tackling one thing at a time. First, getting myself under control. Then, clothing myself sufficiently. I had no idea what I was supposed to be going towards. Didn’t I need to be making some sort of plan? Did I go to the Underrealm to meet my mother? Should I consider how to get out of being the Scion? Or…should I be embracing it?

  I didn’t have the tools necessary to figure this stuff out on my own.

  “You need to test your skills,” Grayson said, breaking the silence that had spread while I questioned my situation. It was as if he knew what I’d been thinking. Maybe he did.

  “Being able to telepath is your birthright. You must learn to use it.”

  I can telepath. Clearly.

  “Yes, but everyone can hear you. You have no control. It’s like cannon fodder,” then Grayson made a bursting noise and used his hands to indicate scattershot.

  You can all hear me? I asked, looking around, startled.

  “Yup,” Grayson said.

  Rowan didn’t turn, but mumbled, “Uh hum.”

  “Loud and clear,” was yelled down the stairs from my apartment. Cy could hear me from that far away? That was disturbing.

  I looked at Benn, who gave me the kind of look only people who knew each other for a long time could detect. He was saying there was something he needed to tell me, but not until we were alone. I returned the look with one of my own, then turned to Grayson.

  “So, what? You want to train me or something?”

  The Tempter inhaled deeply, as if what he was going to say upset him. “Not me.”

  “With who then?”

  Rowan snarled, and I sniggered because his constant, broody agitation was starting to feel like a challenge to see how often I could aggravate him…until I realized what the snarl meant this time.

  Rowan hates me. Don’t make him spend time with me.

  All three demons, and Benn—I was willing to bet that was what he was going to tell me—had heard.

  “It has to be Rowan. Tempters and Razers can already telepath with ease. And Cyrus is bonded to me as my aide. Rowan is your best option.” And you seem to be able to telepath to him comfortably. Grayson sounded apologetic, as if, if he had a choice, he’d rather I didn’t spend any time alone with Rowan.

  “Is that not always the case?” I asked aloud, not bothering to telepath since I didn’t know who would pick up the transmission.

  “Some castes are more difficult.” He gestured towards Rowan. “Some individuals are more difficult. There’s no general rule.”

  “But you need to learn not to project, at the very least,” this, not surprisingly, from Rowan, who was positively fixated on my projecting.

  I wondered why it bothered him so much, to know my feelings. Maybe he thought emotions showed weakness. And my emotions had become not only strong, but explosive.

  “I think they have a point, Sav,” Benn said, and I could tell there was something else to his words, to his siding with the Tempter. “Telepathy is your thing. You outta learn to…control it.”

  Considering the logic and knowing I could trust Benn’s judgment, I nodded, “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “I said the same exact thing,” Grayson whined, and I couldn’t tell if he was playing around or being serious.

  I was starting to think Grayson was kind of a brat.

  But the Tempter I’d known for three days and who had done nothing but fail at seducing me had no right thinking his opinion mattered.

  “You spend over a decade by my side, keeping me sane? Then I might consider what you say valuable too.” I looked him up and down with unimpressed eyes, and Rowan chuckled low in his throat even before I added, “Maybe.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Rowan and I stared at each other, arms folded across our chests, as far from each other as possible. I leaned against one wall of my living room. He stood rigid near the opposite one, near the door.

  We’d been at this for close to an hour. And more than once, his eyes were drawn to the door as if he were considering making a break for it.

  Bored, my mind wandered.

  I wondered how long it would be before I could get The Bookstore back in running condition. Helped that I had three, inexhaustible, super-humanly strong demons fixing what I’d damaged at no cost. But there was still stuff to be done, and I hadn’t done what I knew I needed to yet.

  Tomorrow, I decided. Time to get back to work.

  I thought about the lady who kept calling me missy. Did Dad get his messages before Benn came back and told him I’d been abducted by a Royal advisor? I’d have to ask him and track her down if he didn’t.

  I hoped my new, crying-prone self didn’t get in the way of my job. People could be mean, but I had to be able to handle it.

  And Benn was going to return after school, because it was Thursday and Demon History and Defense was tonight. Maybe having Grayson, Rowan and Cy around would satisfy his curiosity until next week and we could skip it this time.

  But I doubted it. We’d never missed Dmitri’s class before, even when Benn had strep throat a few months ago.

  Out of the blue, I was desperate to know how I was capable of destroying so much of The Bookstore in such a short amount of time. Overwhelming curiosity demanded I discover the truth, even though I feared seeing the monster capable of so much devastation.

  “You,” Rowan finally spoke, “are the worst projector I’ve ever witnessed. Even younglings and the newly-made are not as bad as you.”

  Maybe I wasn’t ready to see the monster I’d become, because I was awfully thankful for Rowan’s distraction. Even if it was a snide one.

  I tilted my head. “Newly-made. Isn’t that kind of what I am?”

  “No,” Rowan grunted. “You already were. Newly-made are not Razer younglings. Neither are you a youngling, even if you have just realized what you are.”

  “I’ve always known I was a half-caste,” I said defensively. I may have been a weird case, but I’d always known what I was. Dad made sure of it.

  But that wasn’t what Rowan was talking about. It was the lifting of my glamour that changed everything. Scion or not, it was my glamourless condition showing me what I really was.

  That wasn’t what I wanted to dwell on right now. Rowan was talking. And I knew how to get him to tell me things.

  Why can I telepath with you?

  Without hesitation, “You are Scion. The blood in your veins that is shared with your mother connects you to demonkind. When Royals take over, there is a blood bonding ceremony, called a Blooding that each caste submits to under penalty of war. Because of this, you are no longer limited by caste.”

  “But I can’t telepath with you,” I said, trying to make sense of it.

  The deliberate glare he seared across the room had me shaking my head, and I snapped, “What?”

  “We’re not having a chat here, girl. This is training.”

  He waited, almost preposterously patiently until I got it. Finally, I telepathed, I can’t telepath with you. Only at you. I get impressions, general…I wouldn�
��t say feelings, but something, and—

  “Consider yourself like a radio. You can broadcast to any demon, but not receive. You are only able to receive from Razers and Tempters. Whatever impressions you’re getting from me are likely in your head.”

  He was wrong. I didn’t know how to describe what it was, but I knew I was getting some sort of reception from Rowan. Grayson and Cyrus too, but Rowan more. He could believe anything he wanted. I knew what I felt.

  What good does it do to transmit and not receive?

  “Because you’re Scion. Your subjects need to receive your commands until you are Blooded completely.”

  Mmm, they didn’t get to question anything. Royalty gives the orders, and their subjects obey. I hated that. No part of me felt like the Scion. It was still ridiculous to even consider. But if I were, I sure wasn’t going to be that kind of Scion.

  “Why Tempters too?”

  Rowan raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

  Ugh! Why can I telepath with Grayson when he’s not a Razer?

  “Razers and Tempters share a common ancestor. But Tempters chose the way of the body, while your caste chose the way of the mind.”

  But the endgame was all the same. Whether it came from sex and lust, or domination and cunning, they ultimately wanted the same thing. Knowledge. Power. Sorcerers wanted power too, but they looked so different from other castes, I could believe they were a different species.

  I thought of Hadrian’s beady, black eyes and piranha teeth, and shivered.

  Reapers had a more specialized interest. They harvested souls for their Empress, but had no larger aspirations. Mischief demons didn’t seem to care about much except for enjoying themselves. They had no evil motivations, but they did often use humans as their source of entertainment. Use being the operative word. And Hammers did as they were told. They rarely acted alone, without orders coming from another caste. Though they may have been the best fighters, they were ultimately controllable.

  “Pity projecting has no usefulness. You’d win awards.”

  Without letting his remark bother me, I wondered, so Royalty can telepath with their advisors? Just them, or all demons?