Tempting the Dark

by Michele Hauf

  Behind him, a white hearse pulled onto the grassy off road and parked. He’d asked Certainly Jones to meet him out here. Meeting at the Archives only raised red flags. And he knew the director of Acquisitions, Ethan Pierce, would question him if he got wind of his frequent visits. He didn’t want to make trouble for anyone. As well, CJ had wanted to check out the rift.

  The witch wandered over, his tall, lithe figure moving the air with a wicked vibe. Always dressed in black, and that long black hair and so many spell tattoos marked him as the dark witch he was. Savin did not fear him. Yet, much as he didn’t trust witches, he respected CJ’s power. Always good to have such an ally.

  On the other hand, the witch was on his list after yesterday’s fiasco in Thrash’s office.

  “Surprised you contacted me,” CJ said as he approached.

  “You’re the only witch I trust. And that’s a tough one to admit after what you did to Jett.”

  “I apologized. I reacted. I do shit like that sometimes.”

  “Yeah.” Savin heaved out a sigh. Didn’t they all?

  CJ handed Savin a corked glass vial sealed with black wax. Savin sniffed the seal and jerked away from the vile smell.

  “You don’t smell it,” CJ said. “You drink it. Preferably fast. Or it’ll come back up on you.” He dug out a folded paper from his coat pocket. “This is the incantation. But, Savin.” He laid a hand over Savin’s, enclosing the paper between the two of them. “Give me a few more days, will you? There’s got to be a better way. I can find the answer in the Archives.”

  “I asked you about this years ago, CJ, and you looked then. What’s changed?”

  “Maybe my determination? There’s a hell of a lot of information to go through in the demon room. My search last time wasn’t focused, or as motivated as it is now. You know what enacting this spell means. I am only giving you this stuff because I also know what it can do on the other side. Sealing this rift is paramount.”

  As if on cue, a sudden flash in the sky spit out a black cloud. Both Savin and CJ ducked to avoid the onslaught. And while the dark witch called out a Latin incantation and cast a hex into the air, the demons escaping into the mortal realm seemed oblivious, quickly spiriting away from where the men stood.

  The sight left Savin with a foul taste in his mouth. “I’ll give you one more day. But I’ve seen the news reports. The demons are growing bolder. We’ll have a disaster on our hands sooner rather than later.”

  “Ed and I are doing our best.”

  “I intend to, as well.” Savin stuffed the vial and paper in his coat pocket. “Thanks, CJ. Can I ask you another favor?”

  “Always.”

  The witch walked closer to the edge of the field and Savin followed, standing side by side with him. They looked out over the twilight, which cast purple and red across the tree-jagged horizon.

  Savin swallowed but then summoned the courage required. “If all goes as it should in a couple days...promise me you’ll keep an eye out for Jett. I’ve already called the bank and had her name placed on my accounts. She now owns everything I own. I wouldn’t have it any other way. But she needs guidance. The demon she still wears is power-hungry and, well—”

  “I got it,” CJ said. “Will do. Promise.” He held out a fist and Savin met it with a bump of his own fist. “But it’s not going to come to that,” CJ added. “I hope.”

  Savin wanted to have as much hope, but he could not stand by and idly wish for the best. He’d made plans and was ensuring Jett’s security. Now to let the chips fall where they may.

  Chapter 28

  Savin sorted out the takeaway meal on the kitchen counter. Jett, looking gorgeous in a soft, floaty red dress that resembled something a woman would wear to a wedding, climbed onto a bar stool, knelt and watched him.

  “You going dancing?” he asked.

  “No. I love this color and I wanted to look nice for you when you got home.”

  “You always look nice. I can’t imagine you looking un-nice.”

  “What about with horns and gray skin?”

  “Still pretty.”

  “Liar.” She picked up a fork and tested the peppered potatoes, sans salt, at his request to the chef.

  “Nope. Not lying. Did you send an email to your mom?”

  “I did. I told her I was in Paris. Didn’t know how to tell her what I’ve been up to the past twenty years, though. I mentioned you’d taken me in and I’ve been relying on you for strength. I asked her if we could exchange emails to get to know each other again. She hasn’t replied.”

  “It’s only been a few hours.”

  Jett bowed her head and stabbed her food.

  “It could take days for her to find the email,” Savin encouraged. “Some people don’t check their account that often. It’ll be okay.” He kissed her, then sat beside her. “So tonight is for seduction, eh?”

  “Why do you say that? Because I’m in a red dress?”

  “Yes. Red wilds me, Jett. Especially when it’s on you.”

  “It does? Like a bull?”

  “You’ll have to find out for yourself.”

  They exchanged winks, and that made getting through supper all the harder for Savin. Because if his plans went well, then there would be very few teasing winks they would again share.

  After dinner, Jett picked up the acoustic guitar from where he’d set it beside the couch and held it out to Savin. “Will you play for me? I want to dance.”

  “Yeah? I might have some dance music in me.” He took the guitar and sat on the couch. Anything to keep his mind from impending doom, right? Strumming a few chords, using the rasgueado flamenco technique he’d once tried to master, Savin lit into a slow E minor run.

  “I recognize that,” Jett said as she twirled before him. “You and your mother used to listen to it when we were kids.”

  “This is like soul stuff.”

  “It’s what the Spanish ladies dance to. Your mother used to do a dance for us, if I recall. Yes?” She stretched up an arm and performed a delicate wrist curl and then stomped her feet. “So the bull is rising already, eh?” She winked and turned, doing her best impression of a flamenco dancer.

  Indeed the bull inside him, if there was one, pawed at the ground, wanting more. More Jett, always Jett, stop the world and make this moment last forever. Savin strummed a series of chords and slapped the guitar body in punctuation of the call to a free-spirited dance. He’d never been to Spain, but he’d love to visit.

  That dream was now dead. As were all other dreams. The only one he had left danced before him, laughing as she bowed to him in a graceful denouement.

  “Let’s go to Spain,” he said suddenly, setting the guitar aside.

  Jett climbed onto his lap, straddling and kissing him. The floaty red material brushed his skin in a sensual tease. “You mean it?”

  He did. But his heart had been speaking much faster than his brain could race to stop it. And suddenly Savin couldn’t hold it all in any longer. He kissed Jett deeply, longingly, tempering his need to take her swiftly and wildly. He wanted to know her beyond the intimacy they’d shared. He needed to know her soul deep. Could he have that?

  “I wish we could get married.” He spilled out his heart. “I wish I could get you pregnant, over and over, and we’d raise a brood, living in a sweet little place out in the country. I wish for so much, Jett.”

  “Why can’t we make those wishes come true? I’m in.”

  “You are? You know that’s not possible. As long as the Other lives inside me...”

  Jett met his protest with another kiss. This one burned against his mouth in the sweetest way. He wanted her to mark him so he would forever taste her on his lips and on his tongue and in his heart. She already lived there, deep inside him, and had carved out a niche much deeper than any wicked, demonic former queen ever could.


  Jett he wanted to keep inside him. To never lose.

  Was he giving up too easily? Perhaps he should give CJ those few extra days he requested? If it would see him and Jett fulfilling the wild wishes of his—

  A knock at his front door startled Jett to stand upright, alert. Savin wasn’t expecting anyone. It could be CJ or Ed. But neither made it a habit of visiting.

  When he stood, Jett put up her hand to stay him.

  “What is it?” he asked. Inside him, the demoness clenched at his spine and twisted. Savin winced, clutching his gut at the strange need to fold over on himself. “It’s vile,” he gasped. “A demon?”

  “We’ll not open that door,” Jett said firmly. “Are all your wards up?”

  He’d forgotten to put them back up after coming in with the food. And he’d been leaving them low since learning they weakened Jett. He shook his head.

  “You’ve got to pull them up and strengthen them,” she said.

  “But they’ll hurt you.”

  “I’ll survive. But you won’t if we don’t keep whatever is out there out.”

  * * *

  Jett stood by as Savin grabbed one of the demonic devices from the bedroom. He set to twisting the dials and brass knobs that would turn up the juice, so to speak, on his house wards. With every twist, she felt the repulsive vibrations tweak at her nervous system. It tightened her jaw. Her fingers curled into fists. But she breathed through it and summoned her queen to rise above it. She stood inside the protective wards, so they could do no more than keep her inside. Yet she wouldn’t be able to help Savin in any way.

  “Done,” Savin finally announced. “Shit, Jett, you’re in pain.”

  He bowed over her where she sat on the floor, back against the couch and hands splayed beside her. He caressed her head and studied her gaze. Such gentility in her protector. She loved him. Truly, she always had. And she wanted what he desired, to marry him and have children and live out on a quiet little country cottage.

  But it seemed the only way to solve the problem was for one or the other of them to sacrifice. Only one would be left standing.

  “I’ll take care of this.” He dashed for the door, and, reciting a demonic litany, he thrust forward the device as he opened the door.

  Insectile skittering clawed the outer walls, and a screech resounded in Jett’s ears. That had hurt whatever demon had vocalized, she knew that much. When she smelled flames and her darkness lifted at the scent, she followed the curiosity to stand and peer around the corner. Savin stood with his arms together, sigils facing outward—and they flamed.

  He was marvelous. Truly, a hero in every sense that appealed to her.

  When he dropped his arms, the flames hissed out and Savin kicked the door shut. He turned, startling when he saw her right behind him. “Jett, you should be more careful.”

  “I don’t fear you.” She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. “You are my protector. You’re not hurt? From the flames?”

  “Never. The fire slips over my skin without burning me. Don’t know why, but that’s how it works.”

  She had always felt so comfortable near flames. And now she had returned to another comforting fire.

  “Kiss me,” she whispered. “Touch me, Savin. Make me yours. Please.”

  He lifted her into his arms, and as he passed by the kitchen, she did not sense the intruders outside the door. The wards had repelled them. For now. Savin carried her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed. When she looked into his eyes, she did not notice the inner pain from the wards. She had but to maintain a connection with him.

  His kiss fell upon her like redeeming sunlight. Hot and lingering, and oh, so welcome. The tickle of his beard over her skin softened her anxiety and teased up a smile against his mouth. She pushed her fingers into his hair and clung to him, keeping him there at her mouth. Wanting to breathe all her pain into him and, in turn, take his away from him.

  “You are my flame,” she said. “My comforting flame.”

  “I don’t want to burn you.”

  “Oh, yes, you must. Burn me with your heat, Savin. I need to feel you deep and hot within me.”

  Savin’s wide hand strayed down her shoulder and to her breast. The less-than-gentle squeeze of her nipple shocked a vibrant pleasure thrill through her. Arching her back, Jett lured her lover down onto her and into her arms. He bowed his head and licked a trail down her chin, shoving down the strappy sleeve of her dress. Nudging aside the fabric, he claimed her nipple with his hot tongue.

  He supped upon her and, in the process, teased her senses to ultra-alert. She felt beautiful, wanted. Not a horned demon queen. She felt as if she’d never revealed that side of herself to Savin. She felt...loved.

  Dragging her dress down as he followed with his tongue, Savin skated over her skin, lower and lower, circled her belly button, then tugged to get the dress below her hips.

  “Yes, kiss me there,” she said. Her senses soared with every delicious trace of his tongue.

  His fingers wrapped about her hip as he lowered his mouth to kiss her mons and nuzzle into her hairs. The anticipation of welcoming him into her most intimate place made her spread her legs. But he lingered there, at the top of her thigh, his breath hushing hotly, and his mouth kissing here, then there, then moving lower and aside until, finally, she felt him enter her with his tongue.

  Jett gripped the sheets. Her head tilted back into the pillow. Her nipples, tight and hard, cooled in the evening air. He dashed tastes and touches and suckles everywhere about her pussy. His wicked touch felt so right. She had not to command or request his submission. She might be queen, but this man was the champion she had always desired would ride in on a white stallion to rescue her from the darkness of Daemonia.

  A stallion would have perished in such a place. And her knight had instead waited for her to rescue herself. But now the real saving had begun. He could lift her soul to the surface, to plunge through the flames and touch the light with his gentle protection and willingness to love her.

  Savin’s hair spilled over her thigh. Jett reached to clutch at it as his ministrations focused on her swelling clit. It pulsed and ached and hummed. Her entire body answered with a tightening, pleading urge to jump. To fall once again over the edge.

  And this time she fell into Savin’s arms.

  Chapter 29

  In the morning, Savin felt the threat as deeply as Jett had. Her spine tingled with a pricking electricity. They both knew demons were in the area, perhaps even the building. They were looking for her. Daemonia had sent scouts to retrieve their missing queen.

  Would they know she had destroyed Drav? Despite his claims to royalty, he’d seemed insignificant. Else why had the legion not insisted he remain at court? She had done away with him out of defense, but Jett suspected Drav would not be missed by any in Daemonia.

  But had the scouts she now sensed come for her or Fuum? It was possible they sensed the demon within Savin. Either way, if they succeeded in breaching Savin’s wards, the results would not be pretty. So when Savin had to run out, this time he increased the efficacy of the wards, locking Jett inside with a powerful shield.

  She rubbed her arms and pulled up her legs on the couch where she sat, feeling as though she were hiding and not standing up to the threat, as any queen should. This was not her. She was stronger.

  If she could fight off those lurking, would that success show others she was a force not to be threatened?

  She glanced to the front door. She could walk outside. As simple as that. To keep Savin safe.

  * * *

  Savin hung up on CJ. The dark witch reported finding something interesting in the Archives. Not the thing necessary to keep both Savin and Jett safe, but he felt he was getting close.

  Uh-huh. Close. Like that was going to help matters.

  Savin strode down the sidewalk, follo
wing the eerie sensation that clued him a demon was near. Not a corporeal one. He couldn’t see it, but it was close enough he could reach out and grab it, he felt sure. Grabbing wasn’t possible with the incorporeal kind. They tended to seek humans to inhabit. And while Savin could reckon them, the reckoning wasn’t something he could whip out like a magical spell and—poof—the demon was sent back to Daemonia.

  He needed a few minutes, at the very least, to summon a connection to the Place of All Demons. Knowing he didn’t want to let the thing run free, yet also knowing he couldn’t call attention to himself on this busy, tourist-filled street, Savin quietly put his forearms together to connect the demonic magic he possessed and began to chant under his breath while keeping the demon’s aura in range.

  He walked swiftly, roughly shouldering someone out of the way. They angrily called after him, but he couldn’t pause for politeness. The incorporeal demon turned a corner. Savin hurried and rounded the corner and...bumped into a pregnant woman holding her stomach. She moaned and winced.

  “I’m sorry, mademoiselle.”

  “No worries,” she said. “It was so sudden.”

  “Are you...in pain?” Was she going to give birth? She wasn’t overly large, but by the manner in which she clutched her stomach, he could tell she was pregnant.

  “I’m fine now. Must have been one of those Braxton Hicks. You barely brushed me, monsieur. No worries.”

  And yet, as Savin took his hand away from her arm, he felt it. The shiver of darkness that seemed to laugh at him. The incorporeal demon had found a host. Hell. Had it entered her baby?

  She required an exorcism. It was the safest way to rid the human body of an incorporeal presence. But how to tell her that?