The Slayer

by Brenda Huber

  Because Kyanna was different. That’s why.

  “When was the last time you fed?”

  “A couple days.”

  Tilting his head, Niklas frowned. “How long were you”—he caught the Xander-stare and amended mid-sentence—“ah, a guest of Kyanna’s?”

  “A couple days,” he reluctantly admitted.

  “No wonder your eyes keep flashing red.” Sebastian’s grin quickly faded.

  “I’ll stay with your female if you need to hunt.”

  “I don’t need to feed,” Xander said, trying desperately to ignore the way his gut lurched at hearing Niklas refer to Kyanna as his female. “And she’s not mine.”

  Creepy-crawlies slithered down his spine.

  “She let you feed while you were a captive?”

  “She is a Guardian,” Mikhail countered, frowning at Gideon.

  “Right,” Sebastian addressed Gideon. “It’s not like she’d break out a menu for him, order him up a nice tasty soul. Last I checked, you couldn’t exactly phone the nearest Godfather’s and order carry out or delivery for what we exist on, dude.”

  Ever the logical one, Niklas stepped in. “How did you feed, Slayer?”

  Running his palm over his mouth, Xander reflected on the strange energy that continued to hum though his veins even now. An energy that had never really abated after he’d taken part of Kyanna’s essence into himself. Nor had the urge to feed overcome him as it should have by now.

  He checked the doorway. No sign of Kyanna. “I fed from Kyanna.”

  Dead silence met his claim.

  Gideon dropped his foot to the floor. “But she’s—”

  “Still alive,” Sebastian finished.

  “It was only a partial feeding.” He crossed his arms, setting his teeth.

  Sebastian glanced to Niklas. “I’ve never heard of anyone only taking a partial feeding.”

  “No human could withstand that.” Gideon shook his head. “It’s not possible.”

  He turned to glare at Gideon. “Obviously it is.”

  “I’ve never heard of a human surviving a partial feeding before. Have you?” Sebastian asked Mikhail.

  Mikhail shook his head. “Full blooded angels do not survive either.”

  Four pairs of eyes turned to the Demon of War, though he did not qualify his statement. A full measure of silence filled the room as each of them considered that last bit of information—and the possibilities of how he’d come by it—with raised eyebrows.

  Shaking himself free of that alarming train of thought, Xander cleared his throat. They knew Xander had fed from Kyanna, he might as well spill the rest and have it over with. Maybe one of them could shed some light on the weird buzz still bouncing through his veins. “From the moment I fed from her, I’ve had a strange energy humming through me. It’s like…” He struggled to come up with an explanation as the four of them stared at him like a science experiment that had gone wrong—badly wrong. “It’s like the zing you get from an electrical shock. Only it hasn’t gone away. And I do not feel the need to feed, though it’s been well past time that I should.”

  “What does this mean?” Gideon looked around the room, his gaze landing on Niklas. “Did he somehow link himself to her?”

  “How the hell should I know?” Niklas glowered. “I’ve never sucked half a soul from an innocent before.” Seeming to remember his audience, he glanced toward Xander. “No offense.”

  Xander stared at him. Deadpan.

  “Call Asher,” Mikhail advised.

  “What the hell do I need to call him for?”

  “There is no end to what that dude knows, or what he can find,” Sebastian said.

  “Call Asher,” Niklas agreed.

  “Asher,” Gideon repeated, throwing his two cents in as well.

  What the hell was this? A Demonocracy? Were they all casting votes?

  “Fine.”

  “Why in the name of Gabriel would you take part of her soul?” Sebastian shook his head, as if sorely disappointed.

  “Didn’t really have a choice at the time.”

  “Still, it wasn’t very smart.” Gideon glanced over. “No offense.”

  Oh, he was taking offense all right.

  “I mean,” Gideon went on, “what if you’ve bound yourself to her somehow. You better not let her too far from your sight, Slayer. For all you know, she could be your new Achilles heel.”

  Kyanna chose that moment to join them. A weight felt as if it had been lifted from his chest. Her eyes were swollen and red-rimmed. Her golden hair was caught up in some kind of messy knot on the top of her head now, revealing a long, slim neck. Her face was bright pink and scrubbed clean, reminding him of how delicate her skin had tasted against his tongue. How soft against his fingertips. He easily brought to mind the staggering curves hidden beneath the dowdy blue cotton sweat suit.

  And those lips…

  Lush lips that had yielded her passion to him and claimed a portion of his own soul in return.

  “More than you know.” Xander silently answered Gideon. “God help me, more than you know.”

  Trying to divert his focus from the woman lingering in the door, he turned to Niklas. “Have you discovered anything yet?”

  For nearly a year, Niklas had been tracking Ronové. There’d been rumors he’d been sighted nearby.

  The question was, why?

  “Ronové’s assembled eleven known minions. But he’s playing it close to the vest, keeping them spread out, not letting them form a nest. I’ve seen a surge in demon numbers near a small town in Iowa, and the waxing moon is fast approaching. I think he’s going to try to perform a summoning.” Niklas shifted in his seat, crossed his arms.

  “You think he’s going to attempt to bring the mastermind behind this uprising to Earth?” Gideon leaned forward, dropping his elbows to his knees.

  A nearly imperceptible nod.

  “Well then, sitting around here flappin’ jaws ain’t gonna get the job done.” Gideon vanished his coffee cup.

  “You’re still going to follow the lead Asher gave you on the Chosen One?”

  Gideon gave a terse nod, then disappeared before anyone else could ask another question. It wasn’t the lead—or more precisely the source of the lead—that had Xander worried. Asher, a rogue mercenary with loyalties to none but himself, had proven reliable time and again. He’d built himself a reputation nearly as fierce as that of the Fallen. Asher always got the job done, no matter what that job might be. And, though they’d never been able to figure out where he got his information from, it was always trustworthy. Always. You could stake your life on it. Heaven knew Xander had, more than once.

  No, what had Xander worried was Gideon. The once charming and amiable Demon of Temptation had grown increasingly hostile and, at times, despondent. Volatile. No one else had voiced concern as of yet, but he knew they’d all noticed. Maybe it was time someone spoke up. Gideon was one of them. No one knew better than they the precarious line between good and evil he walked. If Gideon needed to be pulled back from the edge, so be it. Likewise, if he crossed that line…well, then action would need to be taken.

  “It’s getting harder for him to control the darkness,” Xander observed.

  A heavy silence filled the room.

  “You think he’s slipping?” Sebastian leaned forward.

  “You don’t?” Niklas countered.

  Mikhail grunted. Agreement or argument, who could tell?

  “Are we supposed to start keeping tabs on him?” Niklas stroked his chin. He didn’t need to voice aloud the rest of his thoughts. They all shared the same burden. Each was already battling his own inner darkness, each working toward his own redemption. Now they were fighting a common, faceless enemy. Add to that the weight of the possibility of having to put down one of their own? When would it all become to
o much for any of them to handle?

  Sebastian shook his head. “He won’t stand for it.” He glanced around the room adding, “Would any of us?”

  “He hasn’t crossed the line yet,” Niklas added.

  “Space,” Mikhail advised. “For now.”

  For now. Meaning that they’d deal with their comrade if, and when, the time came.

  “All right.” Sebastian stretched his arms. “On that happy note, I’m off to South America.”

  “We’ll lay low at the cabin.” Xander looked to Niklas and the others. “Go there if you find anything.”

  Sebastian glanced around the room, nodded when everyone seemed in accord, and then shimmered away. Mikhail waited for no one’s permission, nor did he offer his own itinerary. He was simply there one moment, and gone the next.

  Niklas nodded to him, and then glanced once again at Kyanna. His frown deepened as he studied her aura once more. Xander had never asked about anyone’s colors before. He’d never cared.

  Now, it was all he could think about, what she was thinking. What she was feeling.

  And Gideon’s earlier words came back to haunt him. Kyanna had become his one and only weakness. His Achilles’ heel. That left him with one driving question. What was he going to do about it?

  Xander bit the tip of his tongue as he considered Niklas. Niklas had leaned forward, as if to speak, but he paused for a moment, studying the air surrounding Kyanna once more. His brow puckered and a muscle bunched on his jaw. From the corner of his eye, Xander saw Kyanna turn her head. She was watching him now, and her expression changed infinitesimally. And at that moment, Niklas’s eyes widened. Shaking his head, Niklas rubbed the back of his neck. A sure sign that something he saw troubled him. With one last alarmed glance at Kyanna, Niklas turned his full attention to Xander.

  “Huchtaé ma’k, locti’vars,” Niklas said in Demonic, his voice deep and layered. Choose your battles wisely, my brother.

  And then he shimmered away, leaving Xander alone with Kyanna.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Slowly, Kyanna returned to her seat beside him. “What now?”

  He resisted the urge to wrap his arms around her. But only just. She was pale, and that worried him. She was silent. And that worried him more. What was going in inside that beautiful head of hers? And that, too, worried him.

  And that he worried…worried him. All this worry. Bah!

  “Now they’ll continue the search.” He reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair from her brow, tucked it behind her ear. “The more relics we find, the less chance this mastermind has of succeeding.”

  “Don’t you need to continue searching as well, Xander?” Kyanna asked quietly. Her expression was pinched. Her hands were clenched tight in her lap.

  “My duty is to guard you and the stone.”

  A tiny frown creased her brow, but she glanced away without a word. Kyanna nodded but remained silent.

  He pushed to his feet. Beside him, Kyanna stood as well, subdued.

  What had Niklas meant by his last comment before he’d left? Choose your battles wisely. He’d already chosen his battle. He’d never return to Lucifer’s side.

  Slowly, he turned to face Kyanna. She looked so fragile. So overwhelmed and dazed.

  “Come.” He held out his hand, bracing himself for her arguments.

  Kyanna surprised him. Offering no resistance, she stepped into the circle of his arms. Laying her palms flat upon his abdomen between them, she dropped her forehead to his chest. Her shoulders sagged on a weary sigh.

  It tore him up to see her this way. He couldn’t resist pressing a quick kiss to the side of her head. “Are you ready?” He asked against her hair.

  She gave a tiny nod, her head bumping his lips.

  “Close your eyes,” he whispered.

  “They already are.” Sweet Mary, she sounded exhausted.

  Relieved they’d only have to shimmer once because they were leaving a secure location, he let out a long, tired breath of his own. Turning his focus inward, he brought to mind his cabin in the Rockies. The fresh scent of pine was immediate and soothing. Gentle rays of sunlight spilled in through the east windows above the sink as the sun began to peek over the treetops. Even though they’d already completed shimmering, he couldn’t bring himself to release her.

  She must not have minded, because she continued to stand, docile, in the circle of his arms.

  Slowly, he stroked his hand up and down her back. Pleased when she relaxed and leaned into him, he pressed another kiss to the crown of her head. He slid his free hand up until he cupped the back of her neck. Xander began moving his fingers in tentative circles, experimenting with pressure and motion until he heard her sigh, just as he had earlier. The last of the tension ebbed from her shoulders, and her hands slipped downward and crept around his waist.

  From the moment he’d first met her, she’d been fearless. Challenging him at every turn. Stirring his passions like no other before her. To see her like this, vulnerable and nearly too weary to stand, shook him, igniting a firestorm of protective instincts he never knew he possessed. He wanted nothing more than to hold her and protect her. To comfort her. To reassure her and convince her that he’d never let anything or anyone ever hurt her again.

  But the words wouldn’t come. He had no experience with this kind of thing. These emotions. Asking Kyanna for guidance while she was so upset seemed wrong. But standing here doing nothing while she so obviously needed him wasn’t an option, pride or no pride.

  “What can I do?” He whispered the words against her temple as his hands continued to caress her.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice was so soft against his shirt that he had to strain to hear her. “I’m just so tired.”

  “Let me take care of you.” Reaching down, he swept an arm beneath her knees, lifting her high against his chest. “Let’s get you to bed.”

  “No.” But her arms crept around him, and she nuzzled her cheek into the crook of his neck. She felt so right, snuggled in his embrace. As if she’d been born for no other purpose than to belong to him. “I need a shower, or a bath. Something. Can’t”—she stifled a wide yawn—“can’t sleep like this. I feel so grimy.”

  He skirted the rustic, log furniture in the living area. The heavy echo of his boots crossing the polished hardwood was temporarily muted while he tread over the thick fur rug on the floor in front of the huge, rough-cut stone fireplace. He scanned the room as he headed toward the bathroom. At least it was clean. After all, he’d been here a little over two weeks ago, though he hadn’t planned on returning quite so soon.

  The place wasn’t huge by any means. The main floor contained nothing more than the living area on one side with its open kitchen nestled in the back corner on the other side flanked by a small pantry, and a full bath. The second floor was actually a large loft that spanned the width of the cabin above the kitchen area and was separated from the rest of the space by nothing more than a rough-hewn wooden railing.

  His home in the Rockies was his private retreat. His one and only comfort. Much like the farmhouse in Minnesota was Sebastian’s haven. He’d made it clear to the others that this was the one place they were not to bother him, not unless the world was coming to an end. Even then it was a questionable.

  But having Kyanna here didn’t bother him. In fact, he’d never felt more right about anything in his life.

  Once in the bathroom, he was brought up short. She was dead on her feet. He doubted she’d be able to stand through a shower. But could he trust her not to drown in the bath? Glancing down at her, he winced. She looked breakable right now. And the only thing she’d requested of him was to be able to take a shower or bath. He could conjure her clean. It would be a damned sight easier. But she wanted a bath.

  By all that was in his power, if she wanted a bath, then a bath she would have.

 
In short order, he had steaming water running in the large, claw foot tub. Remembering his shower in Kyanna’s bathroom, he conjured thick towels and bottles of floral-scented soaps and shampoos, just like hers. He even conjured a giant bottle of bubble bath. Bubble bath and women seemed to go together, right?

  He sat down on the side of the tub, resting Kyanna on his lap. Sighing, she readjusted her hold on him, snuggling close once more. Something deep in his chest swelled to uncomfortable proportions—some sensation so foreign it caught him so by surprise that he nearly dropped her. He reached over and began pouring the bubble bath into the water. But how much? Shrugging, he dumped some in, then dumped in some more. When nearly half the bottle was gone, he gave a satisfied nod as a towering wall of bubbles began to form.

  While he waited for the tub to finish filling, Xander stared down at her. She was all but asleep in his arms. Her face so innocent. So trusting. His heart seized in his chest.

  How could he, even for one greedy moment, ever think he could deserve one such as her?

  With a mental twist of the knob, he shut the water off, just as he shut down that torturous train of thought. He stood and lowered Kyanna to her feet, then gave her a little nudge.

  “The bathwater is ready.”

  “Okay,” she mumbled.

  He slowly released her, keeping his hand out, ready to grab her should she fall. Blinking woozily up at him, she began to wrestle her sweatshirt over her head.

  “Will you be all right?”

  “Hmm? Oh. Yes. I’ll be fine.”

  Her words, already beginning to slur, were nearly lost in the folds of her thick sweatshirt. “You’re going to drown if I leave you in here alone,” he accused.

  Wriggling her arms down, she peered at him through a tunnel of blue cotton, giving him the look, one of her frustrated, don’t-be-ridiculous glances that he found oddly reassuring. And then she pulled the sweatshirt over her head, leaving him salivating over the sudden display of lace and delectable flesh.

  “Go. Away.”

  Dismissed, he stood there, unsure of what to do. Her attention had already returned to the tub, her hands were reaching behind her for the clasp on her bra.