Defying Instinct (Demon Instinct Series)

by Jaye A. Jones

  We couldn’t stay like this forever.

  Octavia, beady, black eyes totally focused on Hadrian again, slinked up to Iliana’s throne, and awaited instruction. She nodded once.

  “My Devil is preparing to replace your glamour, Daughter.”

  I had to bite my tongue so I wouldn’t snort. Was that the best she could do?

  “I suppose you expect me to quake in my boots?”

  Iliana hissed, showing white teeth and short, sharp canines. She was still glamoured, but her eyes were dilating uncontrollably, and the pattern along her arms that I’d thought was some kind of henna tattoo spun and slithered all over the place.

  “Do you honestly think your precious Warrior would want you if you looked as you did before?”

  I smiled.

  I used to think looks were everything, because I let my ugly features define me. I knew it hadn’t been my looks that held me back, but my muted humanity. That had been the worst of what my mother did to me. She took away my feelings, my heart and soul. Now that I knew how to feel, she couldn’t take it. Maybe she could glamour me again, but she couldn’t take the important things away.

  Plus, Hadrian was on my side now. I didn’t for one second believe Octavia had the kind of power he did. She couldn’t cast a glamour on me like he had.

  “Do your worst, Mother. But it may be more difficult this time around.”

  She stared down at me. I’d called her bluff, and she wasn’t the only one who realized it. Demons along the walls murmured, and though I couldn’t hear what they were saying, Iliana could. And she didn’t like where their conversations were headed.

  Sitting back in her throne, she took in the sight of the seven of us. Whatever Iliana saw, it made the swirling pattern on her arms relax and her bronze eyes stop dilating crazily.

  Recognizing a momentary ceasefire, I telepathed to Hadrian to let down the field.

  How have you persuaded their loyalty?

  She didn’t ask for a telepathic link, and I think she expected it to make me mad, or uncomfortable. Iliana didn’t know that no one had asked for permission from me for several days. It was stranger when someone did, but it didn’t bother me either way.

  Failed again, Mother.

  It wasn’t persuasion. I earned it.

  By what means? She actually seemed interested.

  I looked up at Connell, over at Ivy’s white eyes, then to Holly, who I couldn’t look at for any amount of time before returning my stare to my mother with a slow grin.

  Choice.

  Not for the first time, her reaction made me wonder and fear what she must do to encourage loyalty. My answer horrified her.

  Why have you come here? To attempt to destroy me?

  “No, Mother,” I said aloud, because it was too hard to telepath with her and not let my council of demons hear me too. I wanted them to know. “I’m here to make a deal with you.”

  All six of the demons behind me—plus Grayson and Cyrus, who I hadn’t known were somewhere in the crowd along the walls—tried to telepath with me at the same time, warning me, urging me to stop. I kept them out, blocking not only their telepaths, but the waves of their emotions that were practically lighting the air.

  They didn’t think I understood how dangerous this was. Never make a deal with a demon. I knew that. I had to get her attention, make her agree. There would be consequences. I might pay dearly for this.

  But they wouldn’t. They’d be okay. I knew what I was doing. I was saving their lives.

  I knew they wouldn’t like the plan.

  My mother’s beautiful, cruel mouth curled, and I believed this was her real smile. “What deal do you propose?”

  “Something you want,” within reason, “for something I want.”

  She said nothing, and I waited, protected behind my council, behind a Sorcerer other Sorcerers feared who was ready to cast his field of energy at any second. I imagined what she must be thinking, seeing us before her like this. My demon half knew she had to be worried.

  “What do you want, Mother?” I impatiently interrupted her silence. “What will it take for a truce between us, for the safety of the ones that are mine?”

  “Return my waiting maid.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Sacrifice one of—”

  “Never going to happen.” I didn’t care who she wanted me to sacrifice. It was not an option, and she knew it. She was testing me.

  “Vow to me, and let this hall be witness. You will never set your sights on taking my place. You will not aim to become Royal.”

  Without hesitation, “Agreed.”

  “And stay out of the Underrealm unless I call upon you.”

  This time I hesitated, but only for effect, to not seem too eager, all the while considering how glad I was I could control my projections now. “Agreed.”

  “And—”

  “I will not grant you a third.” That voice, that chilling, other-worldly voice coming from my mouth wasn’t mine. Like when I’d answered her after the Blooding, when I hadn’t been conscious. I could sense Rowan’s unease, and wished I could look at him, and shrug. ‘Cause I sure as hell didn’t know where it came from.

  “Who do you aim to protect with this bargain, Daughter?”

  Within the span of a moment, I telepathed to every single demon in the white and gold hall an image of each of them. Benn. Dad. Rowan. Tanis. Connell. Ivy. Dmitri. Hadrian. Holly. Cyrus and Grayson. Then Mina, Sam, Jake, Director Pakala, every human and demon I’d seen at breakfast that morning. Every demon I even glimpsed at Faction. Our Demon History and Defense class. The regular patrons at The Bookstore which no longer existed including that lady who called me missy and pissed me off so much a week ago. The realtors and the hairdressers who worked next door. The staff at my favorite coffee shop.

  Everyone I could justifiably argue a claim to.

  Mine. My telepath shook the gold plates and rattled jeweled goblets.

  “Any demon harms any of them in any way, directly or indirectly, this deal is broken.” That ethereal voice again, but I welcomed the precision of it right now. The power behind it. This was too important.

  “Agreed,” Iliana said, and the hall erupted with demon voices, but I couldn’t tell if the majority were on my side, or against it.

  Slowly, I eased down the opaque cages so I could feel what Rowan and the rest of my council were feeling. Such love glowed inside Rowan. Love for me. Dmitri’s pride nearly choked me.

  Holly, whose emotions I could apparently feel like anyone else’s now that she was unglamoured, was fighting not to cry.

  At that, I had to force the cages up again, because I couldn’t let myself feel it. Not yet.

  “Is there anything else you want, Daughter?”

  My mind was on the hooded half-castes Iliana commanded. The request I’d already made was pretty steep. The fact that I’d included one of her own advisors, I knew, didn’t set well with her. If she knew how much I wanted to add Stratton to the list because she had hurt him, even though I hadn’t even met the demon, she might not be acting so calm.

  If I made one false move, one unreasonable request, my credibility would be shot. I’d have to find another way to save those females, and hope this decision was the right one.

  Telepathing to my council, Holly and Dmitri reglamoured while Connell landed. Ivy’s eyes became sad and brown again.

  “We’re done here,” I said, almost sounding snide. But Iliana didn’t seem to notice. Or care. “Goodbye, Royal.”

  The wave I got from her as Rowan put his arm around my waist, and the rest of our council grabbed hold, preparing for the jump, was scary. Not because she was angry. Not because she was conniving some sinister plot.

  But because there was approval and—I recoiled, a sick sense of dread twisting my stomach—motherly pride as she said, “Goodbye for now, Daughter mine.”

  ******

  EPILOGUE

  That night, Rowan and I made love in a modest hotel room in down
town St. Louis. We held each other for hours after, both so worn out, yet so relieved, we couldn’t manage much else but keeping our bodies wrapped up together. We fell asleep entangled.

  I don’t think I’ve ever slept so soundly.

  The next morning, I cried on the phone with Benn while Rowan held my hand. At first, I didn’t understand why talking to my best friend made me so sad. All I had planned to do was tell him the gist of what happened, and that we were all okay.

  And that Camille was now under my Scion protection. I thought he’d get a good laugh out of that one.

  I hadn’t realized until awhile later what some part of me must have known then. Nothing was ever going to be the same. Going to our demon defense class. Drinking coffee and eating Indian food while watching movies on lazy Sundays. Those days were gone.

  And I hadn’t even had the sense of self to fully enjoy them when they were here.

  How I wished I could have spent my life feeling like I did now, knowing what the ones I loved meant to me. Appreciating every second I could.

  The conversation with my dad didn’t go much better. I called him in the afternoon, when I knew he would be out of class. Of course, I should have known he had heard about The Bookstore exploding. He yelled at me for ten minutes, saying I should have called him the moment it happened, told him I was still alive.

  When he was through, I hung up the phone, feeling irritated, but also glad. With everything that had changed, and with my position in the demon world, Victor Cole could still make me feel like a child.

  There was something strangely comforting about that.

  It wasn’t until the next evening that Rowan and I were able to abandon the nest we’d made in the hotel room. I had to find a place to live. We had to figure out the next step. What the next task we had to tackle was.

  And spending our time in a room with a bed was entirely counterproductive.

  As we stepped off the elevator, hand in hand, I took in the lobby and realized what kind of hotel this was.

  Even naked, I’d slept on the bed sheets without any discomfort. I wondered if all the beds had Underrealm sheets, or if they were provided only for us.

  I smiled up at Rowan, feeling like I should have known this was a demon hotel. My Razer half understood without question. Even exhausted as we’d been when arriving here two nights ago, Rowan knew this place was safe. All the demons around were a good first line of defense.

  My demon half, not for the first time, wholly approved of Rowan.

  Demons worked the front desk, brought the towels, and laundered the sheets. Most of them were Reapers, Hammers, and fully-glamoured Mischief demons. The lower-castes.

  Somehow, some word had gotten out to them.

  More than a few telepathed an image of their unglamoured selves to me, that image bowing as Rowan and I passed by. But on the outside, they went about their business, acknowledging us like they would any other couple.

  Collectively, demonkind came up with a way to show me their allegiance, but not make me uncomfortable.

  For each and every one of them, I unlatched the control on my projections so they could feel the sincerity of my gratitude and respect as strongly as if it were their own emotions.

  The waves of feeling they gave off were so strong after my projections, filled with so much reverence and astonishment, I didn’t really understand what it all meant.

  Rowan chuckled, reading my confusion as a little demon’s eyes grew misty as we passed, and I let her feel my admiration at her covert allegiance.

  What are they doing? I telepathed to Rowan. Why do they seem so shocked?

  He smiled that smile that stunned me every time. Another wouldn’t notice them, wouldn’t acknowledge them. And certainly wouldn’t let them know their feelings so openly. They’re in awe of you, Savannah.

  He squeezed my hand when he saw I was still confused. You’ve been accepted.

  Demonkind could accept or deny a new Royal. Grayson told me that. I should have been worried. If Iliana found out…

  “But that would just be for the Royal, right?”

  Rowan pulled the front door aside for me. “Does their acceptance mean less because they don’t have to give it?”

  I walked through the doorway, and waited for him to join me. The frigid night air hit my face, whipping my hair around. The familiar sensations made me smile.

  “No,” I said when he was by my side again. It means more.

  As we stepped into the winter evening air, Rowan put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. With fully-healed arms wrapped tightly around his waist, my skin sang against the heat of him. When he smiled again, my pulse sped up as if my heart knew it belonged to him.

  The cold couldn’t touch us.

  Author’s Notes

  I’ve heard people say some stories write themselves. The characters in Defying Instinct actually wrote the story for me. The book you just finished was not what I outlined. One example? Savannah’s male lead was supposed to be Grayson. But she wouldn’t have it. As I wrote, she chose the demon who let her make mistakes, let her stand on her own even if it wasn’t always easy for him. He let her choose him. After her lifetime of being forced to live one way, she refused to do what was expected of her. Even on the page. Stone-headed woman! She wants what she wants the way she wants it. My kinda girl.

  Thank you for your interest in the worlds that exist in my mind. I promise to keep ‘em comin’. Please check out the excerpt from Craved, book one of my Magic Sways series, on the next page!

  And Survival Instinct is on the way!

  Excerpt from

  CRAVED

  (Magic Sways Book 1)

  Then I felt the surge of energy, the density of the air shift, the heavy sense of something that shouldn’t be there igniting a familiar twinge of panic in my stomach.

  A man walked in, way too tall and way too muscled to be a normal guy. Regular people didn’t look like him. Defined muscles bulging everywhere. Looks only found in airbrushed magazine photos. He was attractive kind of like predators in the wild were. Beastly. Alpha. Utterly masculine.

  But big men didn’t scare me. Nothing to be panicked about so far.

  Behind the beast was a shorter man, less muscular and dominant than the first, but way more breathtaking. Perfectly put together. Not a hair out of place. I couldn’t breathe as I scanned him up and down, even through my bruises and the nosebleed and the bullseye of pain on my face. His honey-colored eyes met mine for a few moments and my rational brain melted.

  I think I actually felt my eyes dilate.

  But gorgeous men didn’t scare me either. Still no reason for my panic.

  “Are you the witch who killed one of the Sinclair sisters?” the huge man said.

  I looked away from the too gorgeous for his own good one back to the beastly one, and it took me a few heartbeats before I processed any part of what he’d said.

  Did he ask if I was a witch? My stomach churned.

  I thought about Myra, her cold eyes and bony, black tipped fingers. I thought about Lorna, her long, raven hair and cat-like sneer. My nose leaked blood, and it ached.

  “I’m not a witch,” I said, and hated the tremble in my voice. My mouth and chin were all sticky now, covered with blood, dripping freely onto the white sheets of my brand new, state of the art gurney.

  My chest clenched as realization struck me. Why the air felt different. Why my body was brutally shaking, my heart galloping, my injuries shrieking.

  Magic.

  The big guy was casting a spell on the nurse. My panic belonged here. It was a Sway spell. The Sisters used it often. I knew the feel of it on my skin, knew the churning deep inside.

  Screw control. Fuck dignity. I screamed.

  I was trapped on this hospital bed, rigged up to this bizarre metal contraption unable to run, unable to fight back. I wanted to get away from the magic, and I could feel it surrounding me, sliding down my throat, creeping into my pores, suffocating every inch of me.


  “Hush,” the beautiful man said, and my scream was cut off. Another spell I knew well. Only air flowed from my throat. But I didn’t stop.

  Couldn’t stop.

  My panic went supernova.

  I had to get away. I couldn’t be trapped like this. Couldn’t let myself be taken. Again. Imprisoned. Again. Squirming sent jets of agony through me and didn’t do any good whatsoever, but I didn’t have control.

  I wanted to go home, though I had no real home anymore. I wanted to be eight again curled up under my blankets, hiding from the monsters in the shadows that weren’t there. I wanted to be safe in my old life where magic never touched me.

  “I’m going to heal you, Daniella Walker,” the way too handsome man whispered, smooth like custard. Soothing like hot chocolate. Or he meant it to be. It should have been. I couldn’t detect any Sway behind his words, but it didn’t matter. They were all out to get me.

  Then, a little late again, I realized what he said.

  Please don’t, I thought. Even though no words came out, the gorgeous one hesitated.

  Take stock of yourself, little girl, the rational part of my brain said. Deep, infected gashes down the left side of your back. Destroyed left arm, leg, pelvis. Torn rotator cuff, six broken ribs on the left side, and one on the right. Swelling, scrapes, and bruising everywhere. Spontaneously bleeding nose faucet. All magically induced. All magically sustained.

  “You won’t walk out of here without this,” the handsome man’s hot chocolate voice was calm, even, collected and unaffected. How dare he be so relaxed? Anger made my eyes slit at him for a second.

  He was right though. I knew he was. I should be reasonable. A man of otherworldly good looks wanted to put his hands on me, take the pain away, make me feel all better.

  But the crawling, the terror, was everywhere. My rational brain understood the necessity of his hands, of this spell, but the rest of me couldn’t stand the thought of more magic.

  “You have to let me—”

  “No,” I cried, surprised the gorgeous one’s Hush spell hadn’t stopped my words this time. “No more magic. N-n-never. Never any more magic.”