by JL Madore
“Daemons means demons, right?”
He nodded. “Daemon is the proper genus term for any creature born of the Darkworld whether they are part of Darkworld armies sinking their talons into human innocents or those who live peaceably with them. Demon is a more colloquial term used for specific epithets or races: Incubus Demon, Serpentine Demon, Fire Demon, or not in other cases like Shedim, Djinn, Shades, Spirits, Nightmares—”
“Darkworld armies,” she repeated looking appalled. “Your academic tone is crazy. You discuss this like we’re in a grade ten science class.”
Good. This highlighted that he and Austin were two worlds colliding. No permanence, no relationship. No problem.
Sliding her higher onto his lap, he pulled her against his chest. Images of their brief communion flooded his mind. The smell of sex and sweat filled his head. The heat coming off him when they fit together was incredible. He had been enthralled. It had nothing to do with manipulation. It was lust for Austin.
Plain. And. Simple.
In another world, another life, they could’ve been great together. But in this life, he was a warrior—and she didn’t belong in his world. She wasn’t for him and no matter what they were experiencing. He was determined to do his duty, wipe her memories, and send her home.
“What does she look like? The girl y’all tried to help?”
Zander swallowed. “The female I failed to help?”
Austin nodded. “She’s beautiful I’m sure, coming from the Heavens.”
He revisited the Cherub’s image, not as a warrior searching for her, but as his bouncer, Meck, had seen her as she entered the club. “She would catch a man’s eye, yes. Though sadly, it may have been better for her to be plain. Why do you ask?”
She straightened, her scent rich with regret. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
She shook her head, heat warming her cheeks. “Nothing worth being said aloud.”
“Don’t hold back for my sake.” Zander ran his palm up the side of her thigh. He smelled her interest in him but sensed something else, something below the surface of consciousness. Where he tethered his inner beast for everyone’s safety, she tethered herself out of what? Self-preservation? Propriety?
Fuck propriety, they had maybe a day left. In a quick shift, he swung her around and laid her out on the couch. Her squeal and flailing arms indicated he could have handled that with a bit more finesse. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t think.”
After the surprise faded from her face, her expression softened. “Clearly. I’m not a rag-doll to be tossed around—but now that you’ve got me, what will you do with me?”
His gaze passed over her in a lazy sweep. “Strip you and taste every inch of your flesh.”
“We can’t. I won’t put you in danger.”
“We aren’t allowed to have sex, but I’m a creative guy. There’s still plenty we can do to quench this hunger.”
“Zander, we don’t have to—”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure we do.” His palm traced curves of her tight knit top. The heat from her body seeped through the fabric and sparked a fire in his blood. He lifted her breasts to his mouth and buried his face in her cleavage. She squealed as he blew hot breath through the sweater’s fine weave. Another shift and his teeth closed around her nipple.
She wriggled, but he held her in place.
After she settled, he shoved her shirt over her shoulders and tossed it to the end table behind her. Their new position left her lace-covered breast right where he wanted it.
Every square inch of Austin’s flesh heated at once. The air, cool on her skin, tingled with raw sexual energy. The hair on her entire body rose. She rolled her hips, aching, undulating against Zander’s touch. There was no mistaking the power in him. He was dangerous. A silent menace.
Trouble was, she didn’t want to push him away. His lips touched her neck, his leather vest creaking as he shifted lower.
All thought stopped being logical when he slid his fingers into her pants and between her thighs. The moment he touched her core, his aura lit so she could see him again. “You are so warm and inviting, you know that?”
Austin hadn’t had many lovers, but even if there were hundreds, she knew none would rival Zander. Broad in the shoulders and tight through his abs, he possessed the muscled body of a fighting machine. All male. Virile. Demanding and passionate. She undid his belt and jeans and pulled him onto the couch beside her. She smiled, draped her leg across his, and pressed him against the couch cushions. “Now I’ve got you where I want you.”
His brow drew tight as he dipped his head and his mouth claimed hers. She arched her hips into his touch as his thumb rubbed a gentle circuit over her clit. The contact was electrifying. She gripped his erection and stroked him tight to her body. The vibration of his growl almost made her come.
“Sweet mercy,” she whispered as he stroked the length of her channel. Her blood turned to quicksilver. Too much. She shook, shuddering as the pleasure built and pulsed through her.
Zander shifted his shoulders, his fingers pressing inside her as his thumb kept up a relentless teasing. The cool air of the office met her heated flesh, adding another wave of sensation, leaving her trembling for release. “Zander, your turn first.”
“Oh, not yet cowgirl, you feel too good.” He nipped at her neck as he sunk two fingers inside her. She focused on her grip, stroking him harder, faster. Listening to the catch in his breathing she knew he was close. She doubled her efforts. Arching against him, she clenched him in a tight fist. He liked a rough touch, his body reacting, stiffening as she tugged and stroked with all her strength.
He growled again, his hand shifting, increasing his pressure, rubbing, stretching her with long, strong fingers.
“Zander—” she gasped, biting his shoulder.
His orgasm hit like a light show. The energy he carried within him surged through her, filling her vision, detonating throughout her. Her core grabbed and clenched at his fingers, her greedy pulsing, clamping down as they exploded in a shared release.
Zander threw his head back as warm streams jetted onto his belly and over her hand. His stomach tightened, his muscles quaking as she milked every ounce of his release. When he fell still, she laid against him, spent.
“What was that?” Zander asked, his voice not yet his own. “What did you do to me?”
Austin chuckled, understanding exactly how he felt. “That was different. Electric.”
“Electric is right.” Zander kissed her lips and dragged in a steadying breath. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Rolling off the couch, he walked across the room. She heard him open a cabinet and then return, towel in hand. Lounging on the couch next to her, he wiped her hands and stomach clean. “Thank you for that. That was—”
“Zander,” Jules said, stepping into the room, “you know how you owe me one.” Jules voice cut off as her steps froze mid-stride. “Oh, Christ. Shit. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Sorry.”
“Jules, stop.” Zander handed Austin her the sweater. Once it was back in place, he shifted to the couch edge. “Jules. Turn around. What do you need?”
“Never mind. I’ll find someone else.”
“Jules.” Zander’s voice resonated with authority.
Jules shifted her weight and exhaled. “My middle boy broke his arm at lacrosse tonight. Rayvn’s stuck at the fracture clinic. Andrew’s home with Jared, but I need to leave. Thing is, with Ray at the hospital I’ve got nobody to walk me. I’d walk it myself, but with everything that’s happened, he wants me escorted. He made me swear I’d ask you to see me home.”
“And I will,” Zander said. “Give us two minutes.”
“But you two are—I’m interrupting.”
“No argument,” Zander said. “Austin and I will see you home. Stetson could use the walk as well. Call Kyrian and fill him in. He’ll have to come back and mind the store.”
“But it’s not—”
“Jules. It’s done. Go ca
ll Kyrian.”
The door clicked shut. Zander stood and started pacing.
“What’s wrong, angelman? Are you all right?”
“Fine,” he said, “other than a hard-on the size of Texas. I have no idea what you do to me, but I could go again right now. I certainly can’t go out in public like this.”
She bit her lip to stop from laughing. “So, what are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking about dead demons and diving into Lake Ontario in February.” He strode around the room, his knuckles cracking as he moved. After a moment, he returned and placed her hand against his fly. “Any better?”
Austin burst out laughing, rubbing the bulge in his jeans. “The CN Tower will be jealous.”
He growled. “This is so not funny. I’m a feared entity—a legend of punishment. It’s your fault I’m about to throw wood in front of my staff. The least you could do is fake some remorse.” His scowl faltered, and he too started to laugh.
She straightened. “Okay. How about a jacket?”
“It’s a million degrees outside.”
“A cook’s apron?”
“Not helping.”
“A man purse.”
He glared. “Like I’d have one of those.”
She got off the couch and walked along the wall to where Zander hung his leather jacket behind the door. She felt two coats and his leather vest. She picked a three-quarter length, lambskin blazer. “I’m back to jacket.”
“That’s Kyrian’s. I’m a biker jacket and chains kind of guy.”
She ran her finger down his bursting fly and kissed his scowl. “A motorcycle jacket won’t cover this.”
Sliding his palms over the rounds of her ass, he ground against her. His lips moved over hers, slowly at first but gaining enthusiasm. He was addictive. After a minute, she pulled back and shook her head. “That was your fault, not mine.”
He shrugged his vest on first and then the jacket. After snapping the bottom two buttons, he grabbed her hand and headed for the door. “Let’s get Stetson. And stop laughing.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Austin replayed the scene in the office while Zander and Jules made quiet conversation. It felt good to be out walking with Stetson. The most normal she’d felt in days. They worked their way past the club’s security and headed along Queen Street. The throbbing beat of music dissolved the further they strode.
She needed to put the brakes on. Inexplicable as it was, and despite all her rules of self-control, she was falling for Zander. Raising her hand to her chest, she drew in a deep, unsteady breath. The horse might already be out of the barn on that one.
The running monologue in her head screamed that the archangels would wipe him from her memory and return her to her post-apoca-Rick-less life. The thought of forgetting Zander physically hurt. Her instincts recognized the minefield ahead, but her body and soul were working against her.
They walked on, Zander rubbing his thumb in little circles against her hand as he spoke to Jules. She slid a sideways glance, watching him as they maneuvered the streets. Focused on their conversation, his sharp eyes still seemed to scan the area. Without a doubt, if something threatened from the periphery, he would launch into the shadows.
And it wouldn’t be to investigate.
Zander’s life was volatile. He was volatile. That scared her down to her boots. He was surly, authoritative, and bossy. Yet, when everything in life felt wrong, there he was—and he felt right. She wasn’t foolish enough to trust that feeling.
He was a passing moment. Still . . . a nice moment.
She leaned into his shoulder and a weighty arm came across her shoulders. Why he seemed drawn to her remained the bigger mystery. She wasn’t a catch by any definition: a blind, massage therapist, cowgirl from Texas with no family and if she didn’t go back to work, enough money to make it through the next few months if she ate two light meals a day.
Her finances were tied to Rick. Even though he was a better business partner than a romantic partner, she wouldn’t stay where she wasn’t wanted. She’d have to move her practice. What would her daddy have thought if he’d been alive to watch her pack her bags? Was she quitting or moving on?
The gentle squeeze of her hand drew her attention. “Everything all right?”
Austin nodded, smiling when he kissed the top of her head. Yeah, when this ended, it would rip her apart.
Jules owned a restored brownstone situated on a quiet cul-de-sac. Zander painted the picture for her, the tall, mature trees, the homey street with hockey nets and sticks pushed to the curb, the flower boxes and trimmed lawns. The whole deal.
Nothing screamed ‘demons live here’.
They started up the walk and a screen door burst open and slammed closed. Fast footsteps advanced. “Mommy!”
Austin caught sight of him just as he launched into the air and Jules grunted beside her. “Robbie’s arm got broked and he’s at the hopidal.”
“His arm is broken and they’re at the hospital,” Jules corrected. “Yes, Daddy told me.”
“S’what I said. Hey lady, can I pet your dog?”
“Sure, one sec.” Austin leaned over Stetson and removed his harness. “There. Go ahead.”
Stetson’s tail thumped the ground in a steady rhythm until the door creaked open a second time. Jules touched her arm. “Andrew, Jared, this is Austin. Austin, these are my boys. And of course, you both remember Zander.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss,” the older boy said, walking toward them. His voice triggered the same jagged claw and fang swipes other demons had, but without triggering the cold, menace in her gut. Maybe it intensified with age, intent, or maybe their race.
Andrew’s footsteps descended the porch steps. “It’s nice to see you again, sir. Thank you for bringing Mom home.”
Zander inclined his head. “Staying out of trouble, son?”
“Mostly,” the young man said. His frame showed he’d started to fill out, but still had some gawky boy to him. “Staying out of it altogether wouldn’t be much fun.”
“True enough.” Zander shrugged his broad shoulders out of Kyrian’s jacket and stood before him in his signature black-T. Andrew took in the ridges and valleys of Zander’s arms, his shoulders, and his neck. “Smart decisions keep you and your family safe. I don’t want to be here in any official capacity. Steer clear of any serious shit.”
Jared giggled. “Mr. Zander said shit, Mommy. And why aren’t we safe?”
“Zander,” Jules growled.
“It can’t hurt to be reminded of the dangers of their world.” He shared a serious look with Andrew and they seemed to come to some unspoken understanding.
“Thanks for the escort,” Jules said, before moving up the porch steps. “Go. Enjoy your evening. Nice seeing you again, Austin.”
***
Zander had never taken an evening stroll. He’d run through the streets, fought in them, killed in them, but he didn’t remember a time when he’d ever walked with no true destination in mind. He checked the horizon. The late-summer sun was sinking. In another hour, he’d need to leave Austin and hit the streets. Part of him hated waiting for nightfall, wanting to track down Tanek’s killers. Part of him loved the hours when his hands were tied. He could focus on Austin.
“What does Jules look like?” Austin asked, glancing over her shoulder.
“She’s petite, has flaming red hair and the temper to match.”
“She seems tough.”
Zander chuckled, thinking how many of the men at the club were afraid to cross her. “She’s fearless, a wonderful mother, and loves her husband more than one man deserves.”
“Why is she allowed to know about and be married to a daemon? She’s human.”
He stopped them at the lights and waited for the pedestrians crossing. “At first, Rayvn hid their relationship—he’s a Dragon, a rare and dying race. When Jules got pregnant, Rayvn told the Darkworld counsel. That was a huge deal. Female Dragons have long ceased being fertile and everyone p
retty much excepted their extinction as inevitable. No one is sure what enabled Jules to carry a Dragon offspring but that’s what tipped the scales. They made an exception.”
“Can’t we discuss an exception for us?”
“No. Nephilim live lives of servitude. We don’t warrant an exception or any chance of a life outside our duty. The Choir won’t allow it.”
They walked in silence for some time, Zander weaving them on a meandering route back to the club. He was in no rush to leave her and hit the streets. He smelled her sad frustration but there was nothing to be done about it.
She wrapped her arm around his back and leaned into his side as they walked.
“Ice cream?” Zander pointed to the Cold-Stone Creamery sign. “Since we’re tackling the hard questions, we might as well arm ourselves to take the edge off the heat. Hard or soft?”
Austin’s worry softened to a grin. “Hard, no question.”
He pulled her closer and gave her a gentle grind. “I like the way you think.”
“Careful, Mister Ambrose. I might start thinking you’re a one trick pony.”
“You haven’t scratched the surface on my tricks, darlin’.” Her frustration dissipated, replaced by arousal. He moaned and slid back into Kyrian’s jacket. “Later. Right now we’re a regular couple out getting ice-cream on a hot summer night.”
After a heated debate about the magic of sherbet and the evils of gelato, they stepped back into the streets. He watched her absorption as she chased the rocky-road, dripping down her waffle cone with her tongue.
“So what upset you earlier?” he asked.
Her long ponytail swayed as she shook her head. “Nothin’ you need to worry about. Best we enjoy the time we have left.”
“Or we could have a meaningful conversation and get to know each other better.”
Austin licked her ice cream, indecision warring on her beautiful face. “All right, give me your word that no matter what I say, I won’t become one of your fix-it projects. I take care of myself.”