by Tina Folsom
Hamish found white wine, cream, some tomatoes and onions in the fridge, as well as pasta and olive oil in one of the hanging cabinets, and went to work. He was no stranger to cooking. After all, at the compound, where he lived with several other Stealth Guardians assigned to Baltimore, everybody fended for themselves when it came to food. Though he had to admit, ever since Aiden had bonded with a human, the lovely Dr. Leila Cruikshank, the quality of the food at the compound had improved vastly.
He’d spent many evenings gathered around the dining table with the other guardians, devouring Leila’s delicious dinners. He’d learned a thing or two from her, and hoped that what he was throwing together for Tessa was edible. And would soothe her nerves a little.
While the pasta and the sauce boiled, he walked to the bathroom door and listened. The water was still running. He held his breath, listening more intently. There was another sound, too. He couldn’t be one hundred percent certain, but his sensitive hearing picked up sobbing. He cursed under his breath, wishing he could walk in there and comfort her, but doing so would only frighten her more. Clearly she’d kept it together in his presence, not wanting to appear weak, but the moment she was alone, she broke like a twig in the wind.
Frustrated that he couldn’t do anything for his charge, he walked back into the kitchen and set two places on the kitchen island. Then he checked his cell phone and sent a message to Enya.
Anything yet?
A few seconds later, she texted back. Manus and I just got to the location. Keep you posted.
He put the cell phone back in his pocket and tasted the pasta, then drained it and poured it into the pot with the sauce. He covered it with a lid, then leaned against the island and waited.
The minutes ticked by, but finally the bathroom door opened. Slowly he turned around and watched Tessa walk into the living room. She wore a long, fluffy white bathrobe. At her neckline he saw something lavender-colored peek through—a negligee. Her feet were bare. She’d combed her hair, but it was still damp. Her face looked flushed from the hot shower, and if she’d indeed cried, she’d hidden the fact well, maybe by splashing cold water around her eyes.
“I made us dinner. You must be hungry,” he said, pointing to the place settings, before he turned back to the stove, grabbed the pot and serving spoons, and placed the dish on a pot holder on the island.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I didn’t just do it for you. I’m hungry, too,” he deflected, although he could have easily gone without dinner.
“Thank you.” She approached and sat down on one of the barstools.
“I hope you like pasta with tomato sauce. There wasn’t really much else in your fridge.”
She pasted a smile on her lips and lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. “Pasta sounds great.”
He served them both, then took the seat next to her. Tessa started eating quietly, and he did the same.
“Do you do this often?” she suddenly asked.
“Do what?”
“Cook dinner for your clients?”
“Not really.” In general, his clients, or rather his charges, didn’t even know he was there.
“Hmm.” She fell silent again.
He wanted to bridge the silence with something, but was afraid that any mention of the incident at the center would upset her again. Searching for a safe topic of conversation, he went through the obvious subjects in his mind. The weather—nothing to talk about there. It was neither too warm, nor too cold. Current events—not a safe topic considering Tessa was running for mayor and the current events included riots and demonstrations, events fraught with danger. Her appearance—women liked compliments, but he was staying far away from that minefield, particularly since it was nighttime, they were alone, and Tessa was dressed rather enticingly. She might interpret his words as a come-on, which was not his intention.
This left precisely nothing to talk about. Nothing but the food.
“I hope the pasta isn’t too hard. I like it al dente.”
“Me, too.” Her voice was barely audible. She continued eating until her plate was empty. When she pushed it aside and turned to hop off the barstool, Hamish glanced at her. His eyes caught a splash of red on her white robe.
“Oh, some sauce splattered onto your bathrobe.” He took his napkin and stood up. “Let me get some water.” He was at the sink, wetting his napkin, when he heard a sob behind him.
He whirled around and saw tears streaming down her face. “Tessa, what’s wrong?”
She pointed to the red spot on her bathrobe and sobbed. “Everything. Everything is wrong. I almost died tonight.”
He dropped the napkin in the sink and rushed to her, pulling her off the barstool and into his arms without thinking. She clung to him then, shaking, so he lifted her up and carried her to the couch, sitting down with her in his lap.
“I’m sorry, lass,” he cooed and stroked his hand over her hair. “I’m sorry you had to experience that.”
“If you hadn’t been there—”
“But I was there,” he interrupted her, refusing to let her finish that thought. “And I’m here now. Nothing is gonna happen from now on. I promise.”
“How can you be so sure?” she asked through her tears.
“Because I won’t let it happen.” He drew her closer to underscore his promise.
Maybe he shouldn’t have, because now he felt her body more intensely. He smelled the sweet scent of her freshly washed skin, felt the warmth of her breath brush against his neck and her hands clawing into his shirt as if her life depended on it.
“Lass,” he murmured and couldn’t stop himself from pressing a kiss into her hair.
Instead, he should lift her off his lap and stick his head in the freezer to stop himself from doing something stupid. Anything to distract himself from the delectable woman in his arms. But no distraction was forthcoming. And with every second, his willpower to stop this madness waned. When she lifted her head and looked at him with her tearstained eyes, he couldn’t resist wiping the moisture away with his thumb. But what was meant as a gentle, soothing gesture, one he’d often used on his friends’ children when they’d gotten into scrapes, was anything but innocent now.
“Hamish?”
Had she just whispered his name, or was he hallucinating?
He blamed his long abstinence from women for what he was about to do. Blamed rasen and all it entailed. He even blamed Cinead for having chosen him to protect Tessa. But he couldn’t blame her, because all she was looking for was a place to feel safe. She would be safe in his arms. But would he be safe in hers?
Despite the fact that the answer to this question eluded him, he dipped his face to hers and brushed his lips against hers. Gently, softly at first. But when she inhaled sharply, everything primal in him took over, and he captured her lips like a wolf captured the helpless deer caught in a trap. He knew what he was doing was wrong. But it didn’t stop him from pressing his mouth to hers and dipping his tongue between her parted lips, exploring her. And God, she tasted good. Sweet, innocent, yet not inexperienced. She responded to his kiss, not only by swiping her tongue against his and angling her head to invite him in, but also by putting her arms around his neck and holding him close.
He sensed her need—the need to forget. And he couldn’t deny her this little pleasure. And just like Tessa, he wanted to forget and experience a few moments of abandon. A few moments of pure lust. Because that was all this could be: lust between two adults who needed to feel instead of think.
The way she kissed him back, the way she held him, made him want more. Hunger grew inside him, and while his hands had been idle until now, they couldn’t remain so. Without thinking where this might lead, he felt for the belt of her robe and tore it open. He slid his hand inside, gliding against the silken fabric of her negligee. From beneath it, her body’s heat radiated as if he’d dipped his hand into a vat of boiling liquid. He knew he’d get burned, but he didn’t care, because the reward was wort
h it.
The longer he kissed her and the more intense the kiss became, the more his need to feel her naked skin under his palm grew. He slid his hand higher up, to just under her breast, and felt her gasp into his mouth. But she didn’t push him away, didn’t pull back her head to stop the kiss, so he moved higher, until he held her breast in the palm of his hand. He loved the weight of it, the roundness and firmness. He squeezed it and felt her shift on his lap, making him aware of that part of his anatomy which he’d been so ardently ignoring, but couldn’t ignore any longer—for the damn thing was growing at an alarming speed.
He ripped his mouth from hers. He should stop now while he still could, but just then she shifted again, and so did the strap of her negligee. As he lifted his hand from her breast, the fabric slid away, revealing one hard nipple surrounded by creamy skin. Too tempting to ignore. He stroked over the hard bud and felt her shudder in his arms. She moaned, her eyes closed, her head falling back.
Goddamn it! To hell with caution!
He dipped his head and sank his lips onto her nipple, sucking it and caressing it with his tongue, while he moved his hand farther south. Over her stomach, down her toned thigh and even farther to the hem of her negligee. He pulled on it, but it was entangled with her bathrobe, so he tugged harder.
“Ouch!” she cried out.
He instantly stopped, his head whipping back, his eyes searching for the cause of her pain. He found it instantly. Blood was seeping from her knee—the very knee that had gotten injured during her fall earlier.
“Shit!” he cursed and stared at her.
Tessa avoided his gaze and nervously pulled her robe over her torso.
“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled and lifted her off his lap as quickly and as gently as he could without further injuring her. “I didn’t mean to…” Well, he didn’t mean to do a lot of things. First and foremost, he hadn’t meant to maul her like a hungry beast.
He jumped up. “I shouldn’t have done this. It’s my fault entirely. It won’t happen again.” He walked toward the kitchen. “If you tell me where your first aid kit is, I’ll bandage you up.”
But she was already getting up from the couch. “I can do that myself.”
Of course. Why would she risk him touching her again? She was smart.
“I’m tired. I should go to bed. I’ve got a long day tomorrow,” she said.
He didn’t turn around when she walked toward her bedroom. “I’ll be quiet when I clean up here, so you can sleep.” Not that she seemed to be listening to him now.
Shit! Way to screw up on the first day of an assignment!
11
Anger and frustration rolling off him in dark waves, Zoltan marched along one of the corridors of his underworld empire, a labyrinth of underground caves. The interconnected chambers covered several square miles. The only way to enter or exit this stronghold was via the vortexes, the swirling portals only a demon’s power could open. While in the human world portals could be projected onto practically any surface on ground level, the demon’s lair had specific access points that allowed for vortexes. All were guarded by loyal demons.
As he entered the Great Hall, red flames flickered through the cracks of the uneven stone walls, underscoring the fact that this lair was located in the belly of hell. And he was its ruler, the Great One. The king of all demons. Though today he wasn’t happy with his subjects. No, in fact, he was furious with them.
The news he’d received from up top—from his network of spies in the human world—was disturbing. And it required an immediate response, one that would teach his subjects that he wasn’t to be trifled with. After all, many of them had witnessed not too long ago how he’d killed their previous leader in this very hall and taken the reins of the underworld.
“Who’s responsible for this?”
Zoltan tossed the newspaper on the stone floor where two dozen of his demons stood in stoic silence, their shoulders hunched like the cowards they were. Nobody uttered a word. Just like he’d expected. None of them was brave enough to take credit for the incident that was plastered all over the front page.
“When I told you to show initiative, I didn’t mean this!” he growled through clenched teeth and pointed to the paper on the floor. “An attack on the life of that councilwoman? What in hell were you thinking, you stupid fucks!”
Clearly they hadn’t been thinking at all or they would have known what effect their action would have.
“Do you have any idea the damage you’ve caused?” He scoffed. “Of course you don’t, because you’re imbeciles. It’s a wonder you can guide your own dicks to piss. Your mothers should have drowned you at birth!”
One of the demons bowed, before taking a step forward and lifting his head. “Oh, Great One, I assure you we had nothing to do with it.”
“Liar!”
He charged toward the demon. Instantly the weasel shrank back, trying to hide in the ranks of his brethren, but Zoltan had had enough of the cowardly behavior his underlings exhibited and snatched the demon by the throat. Holding him up in the air and squeezing his windpipe shut, Zoltan glared at the other demons, daring them to help the coward.
“By attacking that councilwoman, all you’ve done is aid her campaign in becoming mayor. Don’t you fucking see that?” No, they were too stupid to make the connection that he could see so clearly. He had to spell it out for them. “Now she’s getting the sympathy vote from all those who were still undecided. You fucking idiots!”
The demon in his hold continued to struggle, frantically trying to pry Zoltan’s hand off his neck. To no avail. He’d always been stronger than the other demons, even before he’d taken the helm as the new Great One. He’d always felt that he was destined for more. Even from an early age, he’d realized that he was smarter than the other demons. Superior to them.
Zoltan looked at the demon as he choked him, the skin turning green from the blood that collected underneath. He felt his own heart beat an excited tattoo against his ribcage in anticipation of his subject’s death. What was one dead demon when he could cement his reign with this display of superiority? After all, they were replaceable—each of them as dumb as the next one.
“Do I have to show you myself how it’s done? How you manipulate humans to get them to do what you want? Do you need another lesson?”
He glowered at his demons. Not a single one of them dared look at him. But he’d teach these cowards yet how to rule the world. “Look at me!”
Their heads shot up and they followed his command, afraid of him, just like they should be. It was the only way to rule. By fear and intimidation. And by example.
He pulled his dagger from the sheath at his hip, a weapon forged in the Dark Days, and the only kind of weapon capable of extinguishing the life of a demon, and plunged it in his captive’s heart. The gurgling sound coming from the dying demon was accompanied by the gasps of the assembled. With satisfaction that his demonstration was yielding the desired result, Zoltan pulled the dagger from the dead body and wiped the blade on his long black coat. Then he tossed the lifeless shell of the demon into the crowd, watching how they shrank back so as not to be splattered with their comrade’s green blood. As if coming in contact with it would seal their fate, too.
“Good, then we understand each other,” Zoltan growled. “And the first man who brings me the name of the imbecile who initiated the attack on the councilwoman will be rewarded.” He narrowed his eyes at his subjects. “The second will die.”
With that threat, he turned on his booted heel and marched out of the Great Hall and toward his private quarters. When he entered, he slammed the door shut so it would echo through the entire labyrinth of tunnels that connected the various caves. Everybody needed to know that the Great One meant business.
Finally alone, he tossed his coat on a bench and exhaled. With it, a wave of pain hit him and he pressed his palms against his temples to ease the pressure in his head. He hated these attacks, always had. But he’d hidden them well for decad
es, knowing that showing weakness would be his downfall. He knew of no demon who’d ever experienced this kind of pain, which seemed similar to a human’s migraine. For all he knew it was common, and he had to assume that just like he hid these episodes, other demons did, too.
For several minutes, he felt paralyzed and utterly helpless, the pain so violent that he couldn’t even keep his eyes open. So far, he’d always felt the attacks’ approach, which gave him enough time to find a private place so nobody would bear witness to his weakness. He could only hope that it would remain that way.
The attacks had become more frequent ever since he’d taken over as the Great One. More painful, too, as if something inside him was revolting and pushing back against the mounting pressure his position came with. But he wouldn’t let this handicap stop him.
When the pain finally eased, Zoltan walked into the bathroom. The floor, walls, and ceiling were of volcanic stone. In one corner, a shower and a tub were molded into the rock, in the other a toilet. The sink was similarly fashioned, but one item from the human world had been added: a mirror. He looked at his reflection now. No outward signs of his debilitating condition showed. He took a deep breath. It was time to mend what his demons had screwed up.
While he had no qualms about killing humans—far from it—he knew that killing Councilwoman Wallace wasn’t a smart idea. It would raise too many suspicions and turn her into a martyr. And martyrs were harder to eradicate than humans, who were merely flesh and blood. Because you couldn’t kill a martyr; they lingered in the minds of people. It was better to discredit the lovely Tessa Wallace and thus eradicate her chance of becoming mayor, because if she turned the city away from the violence, hatred, and anger that was brewing in Baltimore, the demons would lose ground that they’d fought long and hard for. Finally it was time to claim the city and turn it into a demon stronghold so its policies could infect other cities in the state, then spread farther…
Yeah, he liked that. And if his subjects were too dense to figure out how to accomplish this, he’d have to do it himself.