Demon Unbound

by Jenn Stark

  What was wrong with him?

  Maria flipped a long coil of wet hair over one shoulder, glancing back his way.

  “We should probably discuss next steps,” she said, and he breathed out a tight sigh of relief. Yes, next steps. Next steps he could handle, next steps were good. Next steps involved something other than tackling Maria to the floor, taking her again and again, until neither of them could speak, could talk.

  Next…steps.

  Gritting his teeth, Warrick picked up his own bottle of water and stared blindly at the back wall as he tried once, twice, to unscrew the cap. He finally succeeded and took a long swig, the cold rush of fluid instantly warming to match his internal body temperature. If there was an open flame around, he’d probably set the whole room on fire, he thought grimly. Granted, it had been thousands of years since he’d lain with a woman…but it had never been like this. Ever. He wasn’t even sure what this was.

  “Warrick?”

  “Right,” he said, wheeling away from the counter and moving toward the small flight of stairs that led down to the hotel suite’s sunken living space. It was beautiful in the setting sun, the warm spill of sunlight making the most of the western-oriented windows, and he glanced up to that fiery splendor for one more second before stealing himself to confront Maria.

  Then he finally turned—

  And froze.

  “Maria.”

  She wasn’t wearing the robe anymore. Instead, it was spread out beneath her, a makeshift blanket against the cushions of the couch, her long, lean, muscled body stretched out and on display, the creamy expanse of her skin now flushed pink from the crown of her head to her toes. Her breasts swelled, the nipples pebbled tight in the cool air, and her eyes were hot as they tracked him across the room.

  “What are you doing?” he gasped.

  She shrugged one shoulder in a sensual roll, lifting her breasts again and presenting them for Warrick’s ravenous gaze.

  “It appears I’m not quite finished wanting you,” she said, her cheeks flushing deep red even as she spoke the words. “I can’t—I know we should focus, I know there’s so much for us to do to prepare, to plan, but all I can think of is how much I want your arms wrapped around me, how much I want you inside me again.”

  Warrick remained impossibly still for another second more, drinking in the sight of her—her long, gorgeous hair, her clear eyes, her lush lips and strong jaw. The strength that radiated from her bones and the pain mapped out on her skin in a thousand little scars—the deep core of heat that billowed out from her, surrounding him in its sensual embrace.

  “Maria.” He breathed out her name like it was a benediction. Which, for him, it was.

  She lifted her arms, and he slid into them.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hours later, the sun long since set deep over the western skyline, Maria turned in Warrick’s arms. They were back on the couch, wrapped in a comforter from the bedroom. Warrick’s frame stretched over the length of the couch, sinking into the deep-set cushions, and she lay tangled on top of him.

  “So how is this going to go tonight?” she asked. “According to Stan, it’s been elevated way beyond LAPD, and in a hurry. He assumes he has you to thank for that.”

  “Who will be on-site?” The question was only mildly curious. Apparently, Warrick was used to working around others.

  “DEA, from what he’s saying, a few LAPD plainclothes to keep up the illusion it’s a joint operation. And me, of course.”

  He rumbled unhappily. “You shouldn’t be a part of it at all.”

  Maria’s brows shot up, and she sat up on the couch, staring at him. “Excuse me?”

  Warrick opened one heavy-lidded eye, but the gaze that confronted her was anything but. He had been sleeping deeply not a minute before. Now he was hyperfocused.

  “Your presence had purpose in getting us into the Citadel, catching Takio off guard. It doesn’t now. He believes you will be there, yes, but I suspect that now that he’s sure I’m in play, he’d come to Morpheus anyway. The world has changed, but it won’t change for him until I’m no longer a threat.”

  “He thinks he can take you out.”

  Warrick nodded. “I could very easily walk into Morpheus this night alone and take care of him myself, without putting you in harm’s way.”

  Maria opened her mouth, closed it. As much as she wanted to deny that truth, she’d seen what Warrick had done in the basement at the Citadel apartment building. He’d taken out an entire crew of screaming monsters, while she’d been trapped on the floor, mesmerized by merely one of them. She had a healthy opinion of her skills and abilities, but she wasn’t an idiot. Warrick didn’t need her.

  However, when he didn’t say anything more, she narrowed her eyes. “And yet you’re not telling me to stand down.”

  “I can’t order you to do anything,” he said gruffly. “But in truth, you are more than simply a human who has summoned me. You’re…an enigma. An enigma Takio can’t resist. An enigma under my protection, which makes the temptation all the sweeter.”

  She sat up farther, pulling the comforter around her as Warrick sat up too.

  “In other words, I’m no longer your ticket in to see the guy,” she said wryly. “I’ve been promoted to actual bait.”

  Warrick nodded. “Takio is aware of you, aware that you hurt one of his own. But only a demon can kill another demon—and, in truth, only a demon can do real harm to one.”

  “Which is why you needed to take that shot at the strip club. The one that killed Bonnie.”

  His eyes glowed a deep golden amber as he watched her, and she frowned. “But…but wait a minute,” she said. “You said only a demon could harm a demon. What do you mean by harm?”

  “I mean most humans can’t do more than scratch the surface of a demon’s skin. The smarter members of my kind know enough to feign significant injury in an altercation with humans, so their unique characteristics are not noticed. But not all my brethren are smart.” He smiled grimly. “In fact, a far greater number of them are exactly the opposite. They enjoy their vaunted status among the children of God. They revel in it. As such, they draw attention to themselves.”

  “They don’t fake their injuries.”

  “They do not.”

  “Which means those…those guys in Sycamore Park.” She swallowed. “Those were demons?”

  “Technically, they were spawn.” At her confused glance, he regarded her more intently. “I told you I could make you pregnant. All my kind can. When a demon or one of the Fallen mates with a human, the resulting offspring is considered a half-breed.”

  “Well, that term’s super PC of you.” Maria made a face, but Warrick kept going.

  “When a demon mates with another demon, however, their offspring is spawn. They, thank God, are sterile. They’re considered the lowest caste of demon.”

  “Yet another round of sensitivity training is necessary, I can see.”

  “Trust me, spawn don’t deserve your pity. When you hear the stories of demonic possession, the harrying of the true believers, the visitation of plagues—those are spawn. Demons can at least remember what it was like to be a child of God. Spawn cannot. They’re used most often as the foot soldiers and mercenaries of their demon overlords, because they not only don’t have an issue with harming humans, they take unique pleasure in it.”

  “So you’re saying those guys who attacked me were spawn.”

  “Without question. And most of the creatures at the Citadel that were loosed on us were spawn as well.”

  “So if they’re just spawn, me breaking that dude’s arm was not all that big a deal.”

  “On the contrary,” Warrick said, his eyes glittering. “Spawn are still demons. They still carry the strength, the resilience of their forebears. You should not have been able to move them an inch, as hard as they were trying. Yet you not only moved them, you injured them.”

  “Okayyy…” Maria said. “And you want to tell me why that’s possible
?”

  “Honestly, I have no idea,” Warrick said. He gestured to her neck. “I suspect it has something to do with your ward.”

  “My wha—oh,” Maria said, lifting her hand to pull her cross away from her neck. “But it’s nothing special, I don’t think. I don’t even know where Cara got it.”

  Warrick shrugged. “Perhaps, but that doesn’t change the fact that it carries with it a greater weight. Because of your belief, because of Cara’s—I don’t know. But I’ll tell you this. If I’m mildly curious about a human with the strength to even slightly harm a demon, you better believe that Takio will be fascinated…especially once he realizes you’re still alive. And that’s also part of why you’re being put into the line of fire tonight, though if God were truly merciful, you wouldn’t be.”

  “Wait, what do you mean? Of course God is merciful.”

  Warrick gave a soft, rueful laugh. “God is merciful to His children, ever and always. The love He bears for you knows no bounds.”

  “Yeah, but…” She frowned. “He doesn’t have any mercy left over for you?”

  Warrick’s eyes were impossible to read as he stared back at her. “Before, I would have said no. He let us live even as He condemned us, which some would count as mercy—but not all. I have always counted it as justice, the justice we deserved. But now…”

  Warrick sighed again, leaning down to brush his lips over her brow. “Now I have met you, Maria Santos. And that is more mercy than any creation could ask for, no matter his place in the heavens.”

  “Oh…” Maria’s breath seemed to stall in her throat, and she could only stare, eyes widening as Warrick stood. She was momentarily distracted by his naked beauty as she watched him pace across the sitting room. He jogged the short flight up the stairs, then disappeared into the bathroom. A second later, she heard the shower go on, and she smiled, shaking her head. After herself, she’d never seen anyone appreciate a shower as much as Warrick.

  “How much harm can I do to demons, then, exactly?” she shouted, but there was no response from the bathroom. Warrick wasn’t technically ignoring her direct question, but he was acting like he didn’t hear it. Since they’d already taken three showers together in the intervening few hours, however, Maria didn’t feel like going under the blast again. Instead, she retrieved her clothes and pulled them on, glad her hair was already dry—even if it was a knotted tangle. She moved back into the main part of the room, working through the worst knots, when the door buzzed.

  “Finn,” Warrick supplied from the bathroom. “He won’t come in. Get what he has and tell him to leave.”

  Frowning, Maria obligingly moved toward the door, peering through the spyhole to see the young, handsome Finn standing outside. He held up a bag, grinning, his eyes sparking with an electric-blue glow.

  “Room service,” he announced, and she opened the door.

  He didn’t make a move to enter. “Your weapons, Miss Santos,” he offered, executing a short bow and handing the brightly colored bag to her.

  She frowned as she took it. It had a picture of the Eiffel Tower and a hot air balloon on it. “Warrick said you can’t come in?”

  “Not my circus, not my monkeys.” Finn shook his head. “Warrick has to fight this battle alone. Well, alone with you,” he said with a wink.

  “But you brought us here.”

  “Transpo is allowed.” He grinned. “The rules are a little complicated, but that’s to be expected for a six-thousand-year-old process. Trust me, you’ll get used to it.”

  “So, you’re a demon too.”

  “Of course.” He saluted smartly. “Now, tell Warrick to get this through his head. He’s gonna be facing an eerily familiar situation upstairs in Morpheus, and all the players are almost set. We got humans, we got demons, we got spawn, we don’t have a Fallen yet, but that’s about the only group not at the party, and since that setup’s a particular fav of Holkeri’s, Warrick needs to be smart.”

  Maria nodded. “Anything I need to know?”

  “Definitely, but now is so not the time for me to tell you. But after this gig goes down tonight, look me up and I’ll give you an earful.” He leaned forward almost conspiratorially. “And since you’re wondering, my vote is with that ward you’re wearing, you can totally mess up a demon, as in—”

  “Finn!” Warrick’s bellow was loud enough to shake the walls, and Maria jerked her gaze toward the bathroom. By the time she glanced back to the doorway, Finn was gone.

  She let the door shut as Warrick stamped out of the bathroom, the towel once more slung around his hips. It was honestly the best look she’d ever seen him in, but she didn’t have time for sightseeing now.

  “Seriously? I can mess up a demon?” Maria asked. “That’s allowed?”

  “Bag,” Warrick growled, but he kept coming. She opened the bag and pulled out six throwing knives and a gun. She handed the knives and the gun to Warrick, watching as he scrutinized them, momentarily distracted by the beauty of the weapons.

  “How did he get these past security?” Maria asked, her brows going up as she glanced back into the bag.

  “Came in from the roof,” Warrick said, as if that was explanation enough. She removed her gun next, and a box of ammo, then rolled up the bag.

  She looked up to see Warrick frowning at her. “What?”

  “Do you want to try to harm me, Maria?” he asked. “To test the strength of your ward?”

  “What? No,” she said emphatically. “There has to be another way than that.”

  He quirked his lips. “You’d rather try your luck with a demon in the field of battle? One who doesn’t care so much about killing a human?”

  “Well, that doesn’t seem like so much of a good idea either.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” He pointed to her necklace. “I don’t know where Cara got that, and I’m grateful for whatever protection it gives you, but remember—it didn’t save her on its own. So I think we’re far better off assuming it’s not going to save you on its own, either.”

  “Well, it brought you to me, didn’t it? When it mattered?”

  Warrick opened his mouth, shut it. Then he sighed. “Yes,” he admitted. “I guess it did.”

  “Then that’s enough of a superpower for me.”

  Warrick leaned down, brushed Maria’s forehead with his lips. “You must take better care of yourself, Maria Santos,” he murmured. “You must.”

  “I will,” she murmured. “Promise.”

  Warrick grimaced as he took Maria’s declaration, an oath she couldn’t truthfully give. He might not be able to read her mind directly, but even he knew that.

  He also knew there was more, so much more that she craved to know, to understand. The questions clamored so obviously behind her eyes, he was surprised he couldn’t already hear them.

  She didn’t wait long to give them voice.

  “So, Finn mentioned there would be spawn, demons, and maybe even a Fallen on hand tonight.”

  Warrick nodded. “Possibly. Holkeri is a very ancient demon, and we already encountered one Fallen in his thrall. It’s possible that he has captured more.”

  “Right. And…I mean, I know you said you were a demon, but that’s what you really are, right? Fallen?

  “No,” he said quietly. “I was once, but it has been a long, long time since I was an angel of God.”

  “Yeah, but so…” She swallowed, clearly struggling with what she wanted to ask next. But he owed answers to her now. She had brought him more solace in her touch than he thought he’d ever experience again in this lifetime, and she was his to protect. Even—especially—from himself.

  “You want to know my sin,” he said. “To know how I stepped out of the light of God’s grace and into the darkness.”

  Maria winced. She opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head. “It’s your right to know,” he said simply. He turned toward the skyline, the lights of the city burning bright.

  “Mine isn’t a story that’s all that surprising or un
usual. All the more reason I should have seen the test coming, prepared myself against it. The world was cycling ever rapidly toward real war. The humans had finally seen the truth of the gods they’d allowed to walk among them. Creatures of power and ability that put them on a level above all others.”

  “Wait, gods?” Maria frowned. “I thought you believed in the one true God.”

  “I believe in the God of Creation, yes.” He nodded. “I believe in the God of all gods, Master of all Masters, the Unmoved Mover. And I believe there are many stories about that God, many paths to His truth. When you have lived as long as I have, it is easy to gain that perspective. And by the time the war on the lesser gods drew near, those lesser gods had enflamed themselves and their followers to a fever pitch. All these supposed deities were set against the children of God, particularly those children who had developed their own human abilities to nearly godlike strength, sorceresses and magicians alike who drew their abilities not from beings outside themselves, but from their own inner strength.”

  “Okay…” Warrick could tell Maria was trying to hold on to her belief, but her perspective was limited by the very nature of her one short life.

  “As the conflict drew near, it wasn’t only the gods who sought to develop a following, to elevate themselves in the eyes of the humans so that they wouldn’t be banished beyond the veil between the worlds. It was members of the demon horde as well. One of those eager to build such a following was Holkeri.” He turned back. “Takio, now. I hadn’t realized he’d already stepped out of the light and into the darkness, that his descent had transformed him into a demon. At the time, I still believed him an equal. A friend.”

  “A friend,” Maria echoed. She stared at him, eyes huge, but Warrick was too caught up in his own memories to soften his tone.

  “A friend,” he said again. “And as such, he lured me into a false belief. He taught me to trust him, tempted me to believe him when all my senses argued against it. All my beliefs in my own discernment were held hostage to my desire to count him as my comrade, not my enemy. And by the time I realized his duplicity, it was too late. He took something from me that, in my blindness and rage, I didn’t see was simply part of a trap, part of a means for him to show his strength to those who followed him. When I reacted in rage, I sought only to kill—to hurt—to damage beyond compare not only my hated enemy but all with whom he surrounded himself. And Holkeri had prepared well.”