“They're a good distraction for the—” . . . ghost. This was insane. The Discovery Laws forbade him from telling her anything about their world she didn't already know. And he couldn't quite tell how much she knew. He straightened and closed the fridge. “How long are we going to dance?”
“Dance?” She leaned back, one hand propped on the edge of the sink and gave him a sassy grin. “You know, I missed both my proms, and I've always loved to dance.” Just as one of her sooty lashes lowered in a wink, her hand slipped into the sink. Arms and legs splayed for a heartbeat as she fought to regain her balance, showing him way too much.
And not nearly enough.
She straightened and set down the yogurt cup. Clearing her throat, she swiped at her cheeks as if trying to brush away the fiery stains of her blush.
James coughed to cover his grin. She was fucking adorable.
Focus. “Come on, what are you?”
“A female.” She shrugged. “What are you?”
He let out a frustrated laugh, propping his hand on his hip before meeting her gaze. “A male.”
“Well, I suppose that's all we really need to know, isn't it?”
“Lil.” He walked to her, bracing his arms on the counter at either side of her legs and met her gaze.
She had eyes like fire agate. Though dark, chocolaty brown, they seemed to have bits of green and amber in this light.
What the hell had he wanted to say? He needed to stop letting her distract him. “No more games. Why'd you come back?”
She inhaled a shaky breath. “I, uh, I guess I'm just trying to find myself.”
Jesus. He shouldn't have gotten so close. Her heat seemed to sink into his flesh. The scent of peaches chased each throaty word she spoke.
Focus.
“Most people go to the big city for that. Or travel. Why'd you come here?”
“Well, when you lose something, they always tell you to go back to where you last remember having it.”
“It's been that bad, huh?” Before thinking better of it, he stroked his finger down her cheek. “Talk to me, Lil. Tell me what's going on. How much trouble are you in?”
For the barest moment he thought she'd give in. Her eyes misted and she swayed toward him. She seemed to want someone to confide in. But then she blinked and cleared her throat, pasting on a smile. “No more than usual.”
His whole body tensed. Usual, as far as he knew, involved being chained up and beaten nearly to death. His gazed dropped to her mouth.
Come on, focus.
Oh, he was focused. Focused on trying to remember what peaches tasted like. On trying to imagine the sweet fruit infused with Lilith’s unique flavor. “What can I do?”
Her breath, shallow and quick, fluttered against his skin. “Kiss me.”
If he didn't know better, he'd assume she was a succubus, sent here to test his will. He refused to budge an inch.
She lowered her gaze. “You still haven't said why this can’t happen.”
“We're too different. It'd never work out.” She put her warm palms flat on his chest. He mentally shook himself, forced himself to say what needed to be said. “I'm too old for you. Christ, you and I, we're not even in the same orbit. You—”
She shoved him. “No more.”
***
Gods, she was a stupid woman. Why had she thought he might be interested? Just because fate dictated them to be mates didn't mean he'd want her in this lifetime. Or the next. It meant eventually, in one of their lifetimes, they'd find happiness together. That’s all.
He was gorgeous.
And she was clumsy. Too tall. Too skinny. Useless. Nothing.
Nan's voice rose from the grave to taunt her within the confines of her mind.
You'll never be anything.
You're mother thought you were special, but you're not. You're nothing.
You have no mate. Who would want you?
James backed up a step. “No more what?”
“Words.” She glared. “I don't like what I'm hearing.”
“What, you don't like the truth?”
The truth lies in the past.
Was that the truth she'd traveled all this way to discover? More proof that she was nothing. Nobody. Not even good enough for her predestined mate.
He folded his arms over his chest. “We don't even know each other.”
And she didn't even fly in the same orbit. She gave him her back, stiffening her spine when she sensed him approach.
James cursed. “I'm going to bed.”
Bed? Now? It couldn’t be later than three AM. It was still dark outside. She shook her head. He wasn’t going to bed, he was avoiding her and right now, that suited her. “Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
He growled as he stalked passed. A moment later the front door opened and she heard him calling for the cat. Kissing noises floated into the kitchen and she glared in the general direction of the door.
“Damn cat.” The door shut and his booted feet thumped up the stairs.
She'd found her mate and he didn't even want her. Gods, she'd been so worried about him wanting to stick around and getting caught by the coven.
And all he wanted was a place to sleep.
Lilith slouched against the counter and pressed her hands to her eyes.
She would not cry.
Would. Not.
There was no reason to. He was a fricking daemon. She couldn't be his mate. She knew that. So why the hell did his rejection hurt so damn bad?
She knew she didn't inspire romance. Or lust. She didn't even inspire mild liking in balding, overweight tax adjusters.
Male or female.
Ugh. She didn't want to think about it. She went to the entryway and grabbed her book out of her purse. She'd read tonight, like she did every night and fall asleep to someone else's romance, someone else's passion.
She returned to the kitchen and sat at the table.
Over the years, fictional characters had filled the void in her life where intimate relationships should have been. It kept the loneliness from becoming overwhelming. She didn't have to risk heart, mind, or body for her fictional boyfriends. And, well, books were like drugs to her. Eventually, even that wasn't quite enough. She needed more. So she'd started reading romantic erotica.
And gods help her, she couldn't get enough.
That's what inspired this madness tonight. But, life didn't work at all like a book. At least hers didn't.
“Lilith!”
Good gods, he’d better not be this moody all the time.
“You owe him.” She took a deep breath. “He saved your ass.” She snatched her book off the table. “It would be rude to kill him.”
She switched off the lights and meandered out to the foyer, hoping the wait annoyed him as much as he irritated her.
He glared down at her from the top of the split staircase. “I told you to stay out of my stuff.”
As if instructing a small child, she said, “Why can't you say, 'Thanks for cleaning my mess.'“
“I liked it that way.” He strode back into his room and slammed the door.
She went upstairs. As she passed his door, she heard the click of his lock.
That was the last straw.
“Oh, get over yourself. I'm not going to sneak in there and attack you while you sleep.”
She heard him snort in response, just before she slammed her own door.
Chapter 9
Rowena rearranged her gifts on the altar one last time, putting bowls filled with apples and pomegranates in the center so they’d be surrounded by the tiny censors of incense. She’d already called the corners and cast the protective circle around her ritual space.
The girls had built the circle of standing stones complete with an altar all within the privacy of her backyard years ago. And it was private, even without a fence. The Snoqualmie River backed her property, drawing a line between her and the steep incline of the Cascade foothills. On her right
was state protected wetlands and forest and on her left, a campground she’d charmed so that no one ever thought to use it. And while the wind and rain whipped the vegetation around her, and the river swelled from the excess water, everything within her ritual space remained dry, protected from harm by her spell.
Rowena lifted the blood-red Legacy stone and let it hang from its long, silver chain. She’d been trying for years to unlock its secrets. “Great Hekate, goddess of shadows, shine your torches on this stone and reveal to me what is hidden within.” She placed the chain around her throat and let the stone drop to rest between her breasts.
And nothing happened. Again.
She almost cursed out loud. There were visions locked within the stone. Knowledge that would tell her how to wage her war against daemon-kind. The stone held the proof she needed to convince the rest of the coven to help her gain revenge on behalf of the Grigori coven’s ancestors.
She also suspected the stone would reveal the true identity of the Original. She glanced down at her Grimore and read the poem again.
When the Original is no longer cursed, she’ll come to thee as three.
All as human first, then as daemons are set free.
The beacon burning bright,
The shadow hidden from sight,
The blighted, damned knight.
She had one aspect of the Original, the beacon. She just needed to find the other two. With their combined power, the coven could decimate daemon-kind.
Someone clucked their tongue three times and Rowena whirled around. A male stood in the shadows, his outline barely visible amid the wind-whipped trees, his eyes glowing silver, reflecting the light from her candles.
“Seems you’re having some trouble communing with the gods, Madam High Priestess.”
Him.
She hadn’t seen this male for almost twenty years. Well, he never came close enough for her to see him, but he was the only daemon stupid enough to approach her. “I’m doing fine.”
“Are you?” He waved a hand toward her offerings. Offerings which still filled the bowls to bursting. “And yet Hekate can’t be bothered to accept any of your gifts. Perhaps you’ve fallen out of favor.”
Her brows drew together. Valid point. Why hadn’t the goddess at least acknowledged her? Why hadn’t she accepted the offerings? Don’t let him see you rattled. She propped her hand on her hip. “What do you want, Daemon?”
“I want to know what you did to Lilith.”
This wasn’t the first time they’d had this discussion, but it was the first time in two decades. Why now? Part of her wanted to know, but the bigger, more sensible part of herself wanted him gone. “Go to hell.”
“Been there, done that.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Show yourself.”
“Tell me what I wish to know.”
She shook her head. “Seems we are at an impasse.”
He inhaled deeply, releasing a long-suffering sigh. “I felt her today. Just for a few moments. Where. Is. She?”
Rowena froze. The demented daemon couldn’t have felt Lilith. She’d cursed the child when it had become apparent she was a danger to not only herself, but to others. Her only regret was that she hadn’t bound the dybbuk to her sooner.
Then again, Nan wouldn’t have allowed it. The old woman feared Lilith and was always ranting about her committing some abomination and starting Armageddon. Rowena scoffed. Was Lilith dangerous? Yes. Was she now? No. It was simple arithmetic. Lilith plus one dybbuk equals no Magic. No Magic equals no daemons. Problem. Solved. “You, Daemon, are wrong. She’s gone. And she has no Magic.”
“And you, Madam, are a fucking liar.” His voice notched up with each word.
“Temper, temper.” Rowena threw her head back and laughed. “What are you going to do about it, eh? Nothing, that’s what.”
“Perhaps I’ll stand out here all night. What do you think?”
Her smile faded. The bastard thought he could trap her in her ritual space? She grabbed her Grimore, spun with a swirl of her cape and transported herself into the safety of her home. Outside, those silver eyes glared at the swirl of smoke she’d left behind. He walked into her ritual space and picked up an apple, the protective shield having disappeared when she crossed its boundaries.
She lifted the window. “Go back to hell, Daemon, and do not set foot on my property again.” She slammed the window with a resounding thud.
As she walked into the living room, she flicked her wrist and the television turned on. She glanced at the screen and groaned. Revelations Industries. Again. All anyone had talked about over the last week was how RI lost their bioweapon to the enemy who had, in turn, used it on American soldiers.
Cowens. Non-Magical humans always screwed up everything. The picture showed rows of men strapped down to beds in a medical facility. They were covered in tubes for IVs, breathing, food. Rowena shook her head. If she thought for two seconds the cowen would allow their help she’d send Kat down there. Her daughter could heal almost anything. Rowena turned up the volume.
“Dr. Edwin Moss, the new director of RI, is working around the clock to find a cure for the infected soldiers. Until that time, the men will stay quarantined within RI’s facility.”
“What a waste.” Rowena flicked off the television. “Good strong boys, every one of them. And they’ll all die.”
What a shame.
Chapter 10
Lilith couldn't catch her breath.
Wispy remnants of dreams clung to her mind like sticky cotton candy, trying to draw her back to their sweetness. But she couldn't breathe. She was burning up. And something weighed down her arms and chest. Lilith went rigid, lying motionless while she tried to figure out what was happening. Her skin prickled in awareness as something neared her face. Puffs of hot, sour breath brushed over her lips.
Aimee. How the hell had she gotten in?
Lilith squeezed her eyes shut tighter, as if by not seeing the monster, it wouldn't see her. But in the blackness behind her eyelids she had no anchor to reality, just her imagination, which only amplified her fear.
Aimee wheezed, snuffling as if trying to breathe through a crushed nose.
Lilith ran through the few spells she remembered, settling on a simple binding spell. She visualized the blankets separating them, and wrapping around Aimee to protect her.
Blankets tighten with all your might. Blankets protect me from harm this night.
The blankets squeezed around Lilith's body, pinning her arms to her sides.
What the hell? Specific, you dolt. Be specific.
Pretending to still sleep, she tried rolling to her side. Sharp nails bit into her arms and she yelped. Damn. Damn. Damn. She needed to get her arms free. Then she could leap up, throw the cover over Aimee and run.
Run where?
James. He'd help her.
Aimee's claws grazed over her cheek, and then those spongy fingers prodded her mouth, trying to wedge between her lips.
Lilith turned her face first one way and then another.
Industrious in her cause, Aimee continued to try to force Lilith to open her mouth.
She refused, sensing the malevolent intent behind her desire. She tightened her lips against Aimee's prying fingers, clenching her teeth and holding back a reflexive gag. She tried a new spell. Blankets loosen, blankets lite. Let me free, don't be so tight.
The material loosened and Lilith pulled one arm free of the comforter and punched Aimee.
The entity screeched, slashing out, her claws catching Lilith under the chin.
Lilith screamed, lunged up, pushed Aimee away, thrashing against the blankets and anything else that touched her.
The door swung open, revealing two silvery orbs floating near the top of the opening.
She launched her pillow at the open doorway.
“Hey!”
The lights flipped on.
James entered the room, glancing around. “What the hell is going on in here?”
From the corner of her eyes, she caught movement. George slunk out of the room, glancing back at her with a hostile glare.
How had the cat gotten in here?
Gods, had she dreamed the whole thing? Her cheeks heated. Did she just have a major meltdown because the cat tried to curl up and sleep with her?
***
James took in the room all at once, searching for the intruder. He could smell the son of a bitch. That same scent of fresh ozone he'd experienced in the car. He crouched down to look under the bed, but saw nothing. Not even dust bunnies. The closet, too, stood empty aside from the pile of dolls he'd left for the ghost.
The window was wide open, allowing bursts of cool, fall air to whip around the room. A few wet leaves plastered themselves to the sill and across the floor leading to her bed. Someone had crawled in through the window.
Why the hell had she taken down the boards?
So you can't sneak in here during the day, dumb-ass.
And then what, they jumped back out? He’d been sitting in bed reading when she screamed and it had taken seconds for him to get to her room. So where was the intruder?
He strode over to the window and scanned the dark yard. Nothing moved. If someone left via the window and down the trellis, they'd already found cover in the forest. The pouring rain would obscure any evidence her attacker might have left behind. He closed the window and yanked the curtains shut. This wouldn't have happened if she'd left the boards up.
Christ. If he hadn’t been avoiding her, he’d have been with her, able to protect her when the attack happened. He never fell asleep until well after sunrise when the rest of daemon-kind also slept.
He faced her. She sat in the middle of the bed, one knee drawn up to her chest, the other leg folded in front of her. Pale and drawn, her face framed wide eyes. Three thin red lines cut along her jaw, and her chest was a bright, angry red around the edges of her tank top. Her left shoulder bled. These were fresh, not from the scabbed-over wounds from earlier. A thin trickle of blood ran right over a birthmark of a crescent moon. Just like the one Julius Crowley asked about.
Who is she a danger to?
Us.
Hell, maybe she was a daemon-hunter.
“What the hell is going on, Lilith?”
The Beacon (The Original's Trilogy Book 1) Page 7