In some far corner of his lust-hazed mind, Max knew he should pull away, put distance between them. But the fire coursing through his veins, all-consuming and demanding, wouldn’t allow him to set her free. The primal urges of his beast were flaming hot, pushing him to take more. For a moment he did, but he was not alone in this. Sarah took, as well, kissing him with long strokes of her tongue, her hands all over him, torturing him with erotic touches. But it was her hips that did him in, her hips that arched against his erection, teasing him with possibilities, moving against him with a sensual glide up and down his long, hard length. Suddenly, they were on the bed, sharing crazy hot kisses, Sarah beneath him, on her back. Max didn’t even remember how they got there. Her legs eased open for him without hesitation, inviting him intimately into her world as Max settled his hips into the V of her body, telling himself to stop before it was too late. Only the beast in him didn’t want to stop, it wanted inside her, to feel the warm, wet heat of her surrounding him.
He couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t get close enough. His hands were traveling, exploring. She moved beneath him, pressing closer, hips arching into him, driving him crazy as she teased his groin. The room, the danger, the need for anything but each other seemed to slide away as passion consumed and controlled.
More was all he could think of. More. His fingers slid beneath Sarah’s flimsy T-shirt, the warmth of her skin inviting him upward, even as a soft moan told of pleasure. He filled his hands with her lush breasts as his mouth found her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. Her nipples pebbled beneath the silky material of her bra, and he shoved down the barrier, his fingers tweaking her nipples, his mouth hungry to do the same. But he found himself hungry with a primal burn, pressing her shirt away, exposing more of her neck, her shoulder. It would be so easy to claim her, to sink his teeth into her shoulder and mark her as his mate. She was the one. His woman. His life. Even her body fit his, perfectly. She was his. The words replayed in his mind as he deepened their kiss.
Wouldn’t their mating make him pure? Wouldn’t that save him from his potential fate in hell?
“Max,” Sarah whispered his name, her voice full of sensual heat, full of surrender. She’d give herself to him, their connection as mates overshadowing everything but her need for him, their need for each other. Which meant she trusted him. Trust. The word dropped into his head like a bomb being unloaded and brought with it a heavy dose of reality. To take Sarah, without her knowing who and what he was, would be wrong. To take her at all in his present situation—his destiny possibly eternal hell—would be unfair in every way.
Somehow, Max managed to tear his lips from hers, staring down at her desire-filled expression, his chest heaving with the effort that his restraint claimed from him. He squeezed his eyes shut, guilt sliding into his gut with a knot of pain. What if he’d lost control? What if he’d claimed her and she couldn’t save him? He could have taken her straight to hell with him.
He rolled off of her onto his back, thankful he’d stopped before it was too late. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, Sarah.”
She didn’t move, lying there as if she were as stunned as he was by what had just happened. Seconds passed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she said, her hand covering her face for a moment before dropping to her chest, as if trying to calm her racing heart. “I lost all sense of the here and now. I…God. People are counting on me and I didn’t even care.”
Without warning, she sat up and shot off the bed, her fingers running through her hair as she turned to face him. “What just happened to us?” She shook her head, as she appeared to struggle to swallow. “That wasn’t normal, Max. I know you know that. It’s the demon, isn’t it? Doing something to distract us, so we can’t stop it.”
Max eased to a sitting position on the side of the mattress, shocked by her assessment. “What?” he asked, brows furrowed. “No. It’s not the demon, Sarah.” He quickly weighed his options and ruled out shooting straight with her. Who knew how she’d react in her present state. But he also couldn’t let her dismiss what had happened between them as some sort of evil trick. He repeated his prior declaration for good measure. “It’s not the demon. Things just got out of hand. We’re under stress and we turned to each other. That’s all.”
“It’s more than that,” she insisted. “It was too intense not to be. It’s the demon messing with us. I know it is.”
There was a real franticness about her expression, in her voice. Max pushed to his feet, grabbing her hand before she could resist and pulling her close. Thankful she didn’t back away.
Gently, he eased his hands into her hair, tilting her face to his, making sure she read the truth in his words. “No demon, Sarah. Just two people who want each other. I promise.”
“What if it’s more?” Her hands went to his wrists, her grip tight. “I’ve seen demons do things. I’ve seen—”
He kissed her. A fast, sensual kiss that he forced himself to end quickly, proving the fire between them could be ignited by another kiss at any time, but it could also be ended with the right restraint.
“Max,” she whispered breathlessly, as he pulled back to look at her.
“We want each other, Sarah,” he said, his voice low, husky, his groin tightening again despite his best efforts to contain himself. “There’s nothing evil or unnatural about what we share.” His lips smiled teasingly. “And if you keep insisting some demon made us feel this way, I am going to get insulted.”
“I’m sorry.” Her lashes lowered and then lifted. “It’s just that…well…someone close to me was possessed by a demon and it didn’t end well.”
Holy crap. Max didn’t see that one coming. Thank God, he hadn’t told her about the mating ritual. And no telling what she’d do if she knew his soul had once been touched by a demon. He’d scare the hell out of her.
“Talk to me,” he urged. “What happened?”
Max searched her face, noting the retreat in her eyes as he waited for answers. She’d withdrawn, shut him out. The door inside her circle of trust had been firmly slammed shut, with him on the wrong side. Silently, he vowed to win his way to the right side.
Sarah drew a long, deep breath and stepped out of Max’s arms, shocked she’d let that admission slip out. Shocked at how cold she felt without his touch. It would have been easy to blame the demon for what had happened with Max, but the truth was, she’d needed the escape—the moments of having big strong arms wrapped around her, without the world on her shoulders.
But those moments in his arms were gone now, and there was a demon to deal with. “People died. I won’t relive that again.”
He stared at her for several intense seconds, appearing frozen in place, without a breath, a blink, a movement. Then, he went into action. “Nothing is going to happen to you, your people or this town.” He grabbed a duffel bag and tossed it on the bed, yanking out a holster of some sort and tightening it around his hips. “I’m not going to mince words here. You want to know what I do and why you need me, and I’m going to tell you. I hunt demons, Sarah. We call them Darkland Beasts because they first appeared in the Mexico deserts. Nasty monsters that have fangs and bad attitudes. Their entire goal in life is to steal human souls. If I’m here, there’s a good chance my people knew they would be, too.”
Her blood ran cold. Spirits she understood. Fanged monsters, she did not. “When you say steal the souls, what exactly does that mean?”
“If they choose to turn a human to Beast rather than kill them, they strip the soul. There’s nothing left then but pure evil. That human becomes a Darkland Beast.”
He picked up the suitcase and put it on the bed, opening the lid. Sarah’s eyes went wide at the sight of several long swords. The lethal-looking blades made anything she had seen him wearing before look like butter knives.
“They’re saber swords,” he explained, before she could ask. “They kill the bastards better than any other blade I’ve found. Guns won’t kill them.” He grabbed anothe
r holster. “Can you fire a gun?”
“Yes. My parents…” She stopped. Damn it, no more of the “personal.” “Yes. Why? You said guns don’t kill them.”
He tossed her a shoulder holster and she caught it. “Put that on,” he said, reinstating the bossy attitude he couldn’t seem to shed. Still, she did as he bid. She wasn’t a fool. She’d take all the protection she could get under present circumstances. He continued, as she tightened the shoulder strap. “Unload the ammo into the demon’s head—and I’m talking all of it. You get enough bullets in a Darkland’s head, and it will knock him down for a minute or two. Long enough for me to get to you.” He retrieved a gun from his bag and walked over to her, offering her the butt of the weapon.
A sizzle of excitement mingled with fear touched Sarah as she accepted the gun. The same feelings she’d shared with her parents when exploring new forms of the supernatural. Fresh guilt twisted in her gut. How could she derive excitement from a world that had taken their lives? Emotion welled in her chest, and she refocused on survival, sliding the gun into the holster.
Cathy and Edward needed protection, she realized. “Do you have enough to go around?”
“I’ve got Cathy and Edward covered, too,” he promised, reading her mind.
“I’ve never dealt with a demon that would only die from a sword,” she said, swallowing hard as he slid a long saber into a holster at his hip.
“I’ve never dealt with one who wouldn’t,” he commented, his fingers brushing her cheek, drawing her gaze to his. “I guess that’s why we need each other.”
Sarah felt the touch of his eyes, the intimacy of his words, with all the implications, hopes, fears. She hadn’t let herself need anyone in years, nor did she want to now. But, deep down, Sarah knew it was already too late. Max had done what she swore nobody would ever do again. He’d made her need him.
Chapter 8
They’re coming.
With Vars’s words a whisper in his mind, Allen rushed to his truck, keys jiggling nervously in one hand, a small suitcase of supplies in the other. He didn’t know who “they” were, only that they intended to stop him from getting his Kate back. No one was going to stop him. No one. His hand shook as he opened the driver’s door of his candy-apple-red F-150 pickup. Kate loved red. He thought of her excitement the day they’d brought it home, and his chest tightened with the memory. Now, he had to bring her home. His temples were throbbing, his pulse pounding at double-speed—a product of his jacked-up adrenaline—yet despite the urgency to flee, Allen was careful with the case he held, taking care to slide it securely to the floorboard of the passenger’s side and under the seat.
It held valuable supplies that Vars said would be needed for the task before him. Allen had to collect three power sources and bring them back to the cabin. With these sources, he would have everything he needed to free Vars. And with Vars’s freedom would come Kate’s.
Allen didn’t know what these power sources were any more than he knew who “they” were. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he act quickly. He started the engine, hitting the accelerator with a heavy foot. As he pulled out from beneath his patio, he noted the eerily dark clouds, and satisfaction filled him. If Vars had the ability to conjure weather from his prison cell, then once he had his freedom, Vars surely had the power to bring back Kate. Soon the demon prince would be free and Kate would live. And finally, Allen would have ended the hell he’d suffered without his wife. The world would be right again.
Still reeling from Sarah’s touch, from the implications of the hell that might have become her destiny had he claimed her, Max followed her down the inn stairs to join the others. It had taken some effort, but he’d convinced Sarah to agree to keep his revelations about the demon hunting to herself. Anyone who knew about the Darklands would become a target. He’d only told Sarah to ensure she understood the dangers they faced. That and, ultimately, her destiny lay inside his world and that of the Knights.
Still, there was no doubt that Sarah’s crew would have to be prepped for this lethal form of danger, and Max needed a reason for carrying his sabers. The final outcome of these concerns led Max and Sarah to fabricate a story of sword-wielding demon worshippers, which wasn’t so far from the truth.
Feeling anxious to get to Allen’s cabin, to take action toward resolution, Max hoped to avoid any further delays. Relief washed over him as he noted the lobby was vacant except for Cathy, Edward and Sheriff Jenson. The fewer people present, the less chance of another detour before hitting the road.
The instant they approached the group, Cathy’s eyes settled on Max, her expression turning sour. Before Max could comment, Sarah took charge. “He’s coming with us,” she stated, making her position on Max crystal clear.
Max smiled to himself at the victory, pleased with Sarah’s support. He was, after all, only intending to protect them all, Cathy included.
It was a victory that had lasted only a few moments. Suddenly Max found himself being confronted by the sheriff. “You’re not going anywhere packing those weapons,” Sheriff Jenson said, scowling at Max. “You trying to scare the hell out of my town, or what?”
“I’m trying to save them, Sheriff,” Max countered. “Exactly why I’m keeping the weapons.”
The sheriff took a step toward Max and appeared to want a confrontation they didn’t have time for. Again, Sarah grabbed the reins, placing herself between them. She faced the sheriff, directly in front of Max. “Why don’t we take this outside before we draw attention? There are new developments you need to hear about before you demand that Max throw away those weapons.” Sheriff Jenson hesitated, but agreed. Sarah cast Cathy and Edward a look. “You’ll both want to hear this, as well.”
A few minutes later, the trip to Allen’s cabin was underway; the story Max and Sarah had fabricated had been accepted with grim regard, and satisfied the sheriff enough to allow Max to remain armed.
With the sheriff riding shotgun, Edward maneuvered the van along a bumpy dirt path. Cathy sat in the back of the vehicle directly across from Max and Sarah, absorbed in a chant she called a “protection spell.”
Max doubted that any magic Cathy might manage to muster would touch the category of evil they were obviously up against, but he held his tongue. Who knew? He’d been surprised more than once in his long life, and Cathy certainly seemed to keep herself educated on the magical elements.
Leaning his head against the wall, allowing his eyes to shut, he feigned boredom. In reality, every nerve in his body was charged with Sarah’s presence beside him. At the same time, he was on edge, worried for her safety.
Several minutes, and a huge pothole later, Max looked up to find Cathy holding a crossword puzzle book. This hardly seemed the time for games. Sarah apparently noted his expression, and responded. “Crosswords are her way of dealing with stress.”
Max glanced at Sarah, and was overcome by their intense connection. The bond between them was growing, carving itself inside him. Did she feel it, too?
“It’s crosswords or nonstop talking,” Edward commented from the front, jerking Max back to reality. “Trust me. Crosswords are the lesser of two evils.”
Max laughed at that, expecting Cathy to jab back at Edward as his fellow Knights would, the sense of friendship evident in the jests shared between the two. Instead, Cathy tuned Edward out. “I need a five-letter word for a place between heaven and hell.” She frowned. “Five letters?”
“Texas,” Edward said. “That’s five letters, and we’re here now and definitely in hell. We need gas. Damn it, I should have filled up.”
“It’s not much farther up the road,” Sheriff Jenson said.
“Limbo,” Max said.
“Limbo,” Cathy stated. “I think that’s it.” She frowned and wrote it down. “What is limbo?”
Max shrugged. He’d always kind of figured he was in limbo, but didn’t say that. “Depends on who you ask, but the general gist is neither heaven nor hell—it’s a place where the unb
aptized must stay.”
“I’ve always wondered where the spirits are who talk to me,” Sarah said. “I never seem to get that from them.”
“Any word from Allen’s wife?” Cathy asked.
“Nothing,” Sarah said.
Max still wasn’t quite used to all the spirit stuff. “Is that good or bad?” he asked.
“Silence is approval,” Sarah said, and rolled her eyes. “Believe me. If the spirits don’t think I’m getting the message, they find a way to scream louder.”
“We’re here,” Sheriff Jenson called back to them.
Max turned to look through the windshield. A small cabin was now visible on the horizon, and a sizzle of alarm was ringing in his body, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. The same feeling he got when he was about to face an enemy, about to face war.
They pulled to a stop in front of the cabin. “Well, damn,” Sheriff Jenson mumbled. “I don’t see his truck.”
Sarah reached out and grabbed Max’s arm, intent on stopping his departure; a chill raced down her spine. The ghost of Kate touched her mind, issuing a warning. “Something is wrong,” she whispered, frowning as she realized Kate seemed to be fighting against some other energy source. One minute Kate was there in Sarah’s head, communicating, and the next, she was gone, almost as if she’d been ripped right out of Sarah’s head. Her grip on Max tightened. “Very wrong.”
Max narrowed his eyes on her but didn’t ask questions. Apparently, her word was enough. Then he took things into his own hands.
“No one leaves this van until I say it’s clear,” Max ordered, slipping his jacket off, ready to go to war.
“Oh, no, son,” Sheriff Jenson said. “I’m not going to put Allen on the defensive. I’ll go talk to him, and then see if he’ll allow you all in. I can’t go accusing him without evidence.”
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