by Amy Braun
I swung my legs out of the bed and quickly walked toward him. His dark eyes lifted from the computer screen to me. I opened my mouth to speak, but he raised his hand to stop me.
“Dro is fine,” he said. “She’s out training with Sephiel. Warrick is watching them and getting his ear talked off by the other slayers.”
I relaxed and dropped into the chair across from him. He pushed the bag of food across the table to me. I reached inside and grabbed a huge chicken wrap and some crispy steak fries. One of the best things about the Southwestern states was the food. To them, there was no such thing as too much food. I unfolded the paper around the chicken wrap while nodding to the laptop. “Where’d you get the computer?”
“Sephiel,” he answered. “I swear, there’s nothing that angel isn’t willing to steal.”
“Don’t suppose anyone had a breakthrough regarding the Gates?” I asked as I ate.
“Not yet. Every time I try to look forward, it’s like a wall goes up in my head. The angels must have warded it against psychics.” Max smirked a little. “I hope it’s near a beach.”
I rolled my eyes as he concentrated on the screen again. Once I was finished chewing, my next question was, “What are you looking at?”
Max shrugged. “Just the news.” He frowned. “If I say the world’s going to Hell in a hand basket, is that too foreboding?”
I stifled a laugh. “Nah. For once that phrase is fitting. What’s going on?”
“Mass demon attacks, reporters broadcasting it all, churches asking people to pray, half the country demanding answers while the other half demands protection.” He looked at me with worried eyes. “It’s getting bad out there. Constance. Really bad.”
I slowed my eating, barely tasting the chicken wrap anymore. He didn’t need to tell me things were getting worse. I was all too aware.
“I’ve been looking for Drake, too.”
I went still, losing my appetite. Max’s eyes were heavy and sad. “I haven’t been able to find him.”
I dropped my food onto its paper and placed my hands on my arms, thinking about the same thing Max was. His father, Manny, had been a demonologist who’d taken Dro and me in for a time. He let us stay in their house and taught me everything he knew about demons. He tried to help us uncover what my sister was when we didn’t know. He’d been my mentor and my friend, able to stand against my temper and willing to overlook my past to help us.
Then a ruthless bounty hunter named Drake Talbot barged into his home, looking for me. He killed Manny before shooting Max and capturing my sister and me. I could still see the bullet entering Manny’s chest, his body crumpling onto the floor, the color of his blood soaking into the carpet. I remembered Max’s heartbreaking scream when he saw his father’s corpse.
Max didn’t blame me for what happened, but I blamed myself. Drake was hired by the Blood Thorns to capture me. If I hadn’t been there, Manny would still be alive. It was hard to believe his death had only been a few months ago. Sephiel had taken Max back to bury his father’s body, but I never got to say goodbye to him. I still missed his sharp brown eyes, intelligent smile, understanding kindness, and his stubborn will.
Across from me, Max’s pain was worse. I knew what it was like to lose both parents, but there was nothing I could do or say to comfort him. Not unless it involved me stabbing Drake in the eye.
“I want to kill him,” Max whispered. “I want to kill him before he hurts anyone else. Before he gets to Dro.”
We all had our reasons to want Drake’s head on a platter. He killed Manny. He kidnapped Dro. He raped and murdered Warrick’s sister. He stabbed me twice and left me for dead. All of us wanted to take him apart, piece by bloody piece. But only two of us had the rage and the stomach for it.
I reached across the table and touched Max’s hand. I let him feel all the anger, sorrow, regret, and understanding I had in me. Max could see deeper into a person through his psychic gift, sensing emotions as much as the future. He looked at me with grief-stricken eyes.
“We’ll get him, Max,” I said. “I promise you that. But you won’t be the one to kill him. Leave him to me and Warrick.” He was ready to protest, but I wasn’t done. “When you kill someone, you kill yourself too, Max. A part of you dies. You become a monster. Manny wouldn’t want you to be that way. Neither does Dro.”
Max exhaled, as if in pain.
I gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Dro will never hold anything against me, but she loves you because you don’t have a bad bone in your body. You would never hurt anyone. You make her feel human.” I pulled my hand back. “Don’t take that away from her.”
Max had loved my sister from the first moment he’d seen her, and she loved him back. He was everything she wanted, and she was everything he needed. But like the rest of us, the desire for revenge was tearing him in half. He ran his hand through his curly black hair, keeping his eyes low. He fought back tears.
“I miss him, Constance,” he said with a tremor in his voice. “I miss him so much.”
Heartache dug into my chest. “So do I.”
We sat there in mournful silence until the door opened. I lifted my eyes, hand slipping to my hip and brushing against my hatchet. It hadn’t been closed all the way, making it easy for Warrick to hear our conversation before he walked in. One look in his remorseful green eyes told me he’d done just that.
Max turned in his chair, picking himself up and pretending he wasn’t grieving for his murdered father.
“Man, how did you sneak in like that?”
Warrick grinned at him. “I’m a demon slayer. We have practical skills.”
I pushed away from the table and stalked to the other end of the room to where my lucky jacket was. I reached inside for some of my throwing knives. Now that I was feeling bitter, I could train, and stop thinking about Manny.
“How’s Dro?” Max asked.
“She’s fine. Still working with Sephiel. But she might do better with you out there supporting her.”
Max laughed. “That might be a bad idea. My devilish good looks are only going to distract her. But I could use some air.”
I spun one of my knives in my hand and heard Max get up from his table. I turned and watched him leave the room. Max was gone, but Warrick was still there, like he was waiting me.
“Are you coming?”
“Where?” I asked.
“Outside. You look like you’re getting cabin fever, too.”
I kept spinning the knives in my hands. “I can break it by training.”
Warrick smirked. “Well, it’s better if you do it outside. Sephiel might want his security deposit back.”
I suppressed a laugh, looking at Warrick and weighing the options. My mind had been traveling down dark roads, and I needed to fight it out of my system. Spending time with a fiercely attractive demon slayer wasn’t a bad idea, either. I grabbed my lucky jacket and threw it on.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
***
Warrick led me behind the motel, not very far from where Dro was training with Sephiel and Max. The psychic was sitting at a picnic table with my sister, the Seraphim warrior standing beside them. Dro didn’t notice me, too focused on using her powers on Max with Sephiel’s advice. Max’s hands were gripping hers, Dro’s eyes bright and focused. She looked calmer than I’d seen her in a while.
I watched her until Warrick walked me into a patch of forest and she was gone from my sight. I shrugged out of my jacket, and tossed it onto the dirt. I put all my weapons beside it. I looked up and saw Warrick standing in front of me. His brown leather jacket was on the ground and his hands were loose at his sides. It was hard not to admire the well sculpted biceps under the short sleeves of his grey T-shirt, or the way his shirt hugged the broad muscles of his shoulders and chest.
“What are you doing?” I asked, trying not to let my eyes drift too far down.
Wickedness gleamed in his bright green eyes. “Helping you train.”
He darted for me befo
re I was ready. I twisted at the last second, feeling his arm brush past my waist. My body snapped into action. I swung a roundhouse punch at him, but he ducked and got in close again. He brought up his elbow to catch me in the ribs, but I bent away, kicking for his knee. He stepped back and punched at my chest. I twisted, knocking his arm away. I snapped out my fist to jab him in the nose. Warrick grabbed my wrist and pulled me into him. I skidded to a stop and drove my knee into his stomach.
He buckled and moved back. I wondered if I’d hurt him, but he raised his head and showed me the sly grin playing across his lips.
“Spar rough, do you?” he said.
This time I smiled. “Nah. Just to win.”
Warrick laughed, then rushed me again. This time he fought me at a distance. Fighting up close and dirty was my forte, but distance and mid-range was more of a challenge for me. Warrick caught onto this quick, sweeping wide kicks and roundhouse punches that I had to block.
One of his kicks nearly slammed into my head, but I blocked it with my arm. He grasped my wrist and took the chance to dart closer and drive me back into a tree trunk. I knocked against it, about to push him off, but he carefully pressed his forearm to my throat. His face was inches from mine, my chest bumping his when I exhaled. His eyes were piercing, matching the color of the leaves above my head.
“What was that about winning?”
I growled and pushed him back. Warrick chuckled and leaned away from my foot when I kicked at his head. I pressed harder, staying on the offense and making him eat his words. He wasn’t looking so damn smug anymore. He swung a punch at my jaw, but I leaned back from him, catching his wrist when it was away from my neck.
I swept up an uppercut, but he caught my hand and stopped the strike. I shoved forward, hooking the back of his foot and toppling him off balance. He pulled me down with him. I landed on his chest and quickly pushed up before he could roll me.
Before he could move again, I lowered myself onto his chest and grabbed his wrist, pinning it next to his head. I felt his other hand move, but knocked it aside with my knee and trapped it against the forest floor. I pressed my free hand to his throat, letting him know I had won. I smiled proudly.
“Nice try, John,” I said.
His face softened when I used his first name. His reaction sent a flush of warmth into me, relaxing my body and my mind. I felt his hard muscles underneath me. His heart was pounding just as quickly as mine. His pulse raced under my hand. I moved my knee off his wrist and told myself to stand up, but I didn’t. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, or get rid of the desire to kiss him again.
It happened once before, when he chose to be a distraction so Max and I could rescue Dro from the Gate ritual. Warrick was certain he was going to die, and wanted to go out with a good memory. Kissing me was what he’d wanted more than anything else at the time.
Ever since we’d survived the ritual and began running again, Warrick had been trying to get closer to me. I kept pushing him away because I didn’t want either of us to be hurt. The opposite side of the coin was that I didn’t want to be alone for the rest of my undoubtedly short life. Sephiel was a heartbroken angel who would never love again, and Dro had Max.
Warrick... Well, Warrick was everything I wanted. Strong, smart, quick, confident, a fearless fighter. When I wasn’t constantly worrying over something, my thoughts drifted to him. Remembering how many times he saved my life and my sister’s life. How tenderly he’d held me when Dro was taken. The way he refused to let me go after pulling me out of a cave-in.
The way he was looking at me now didn’t escape me, either. That gentleness was back in his eyes, the steady desire that seemed to be there only when I was near him. Like me, he had seen and endured many horrible things. Like me, he wanted to find someone who would understand it all and help take the nightmares away.
That must have been why I was moving closer to him, letting my hand trace up his neck to his cheek. His heart beat faster against my chest. Or maybe that was mine. I couldn’t tell, because I was too distracted by the tender way his hand combed through my hair to rest on the back of my neck.
All of that longing had to be the reason I kissed him.
This wasn’t the last, desperate kiss we had shared when he used himself as bait and I thought I’d never see him again. This was complete awareness, complete desire. His lips were soft against mine, his musky pine scent making my emotions go haywire. He was passionate, but wasn’t rough or aggressive. He didn’t try to tear my clothes off then and there. Warrick just kept his lips on mine and held me close. He made me feel normal, and suddenly I wanted to tear down all the walls I had put around myself. I deepened the kiss, pushing my tongue into his mouth. Warrick breathed into me, his face so close to mine that I could feel his eyelashes on my cheek.
It had been a long time since I’d felt this alive. I wanted to open my heart up to him, give it to him unconditionally and have him accept all my good, bad, and ugly.
It was the kind of kiss that made me want to be in love again.
But the last man I loved nearly destroyed me, emotionally and physically. I didn’t want to take the same chance with Warrick. If I let myself love him, he could hurt me worse than Mateo had. He was a fierce warrior, but gentle with people he cared about. Gentleness was something I was used to with Dro, but not with anyone else. The walls weren’t ready to come down.
I pushed away from Warrick suddenly. I slid out of his arms, and tried not to think about the hurt I saw in his eyes.
I grabbed my hatchet and hooked it through my belt loop. I walked away from Warrick, going for my jacket.
“What the hell?” he said from behind me.
I heard him getting up, but didn’t look back. I was leaving when he grabbed my arm. He wasn’t rough, but I jerked away from his hand. He stared at me, waiting for an explanation I wasn’t sure I could give.
“Mind telling me what that was all about?” he asked impatiently.
“It was nothing,” I muttered.
“Didn’t feel like nothing,” he said with a touch of bitterness.
I turned and started walking away again. He quickly got in front of me. I made sure to avoid his eyes.
“Move,” I warned.
“No. Not until you talk to me.”
“There isn’t anything to talk about. We kissed. End of story.”
I tried to move around him. He blocked me. I clenched my fists at my side. I wasn’t going to hurt Warrick, but I wanted him out of my way. I wanted him to stop imagining that something would happen between us.
The thought hurt me more than I realized.
“What are you afraid of, Constance?” he asked.
Damn it, Warrick, stop caring. “I’m not afraid of anything,” I shot. I breathed evenly to control my temper. “You aren’t what I’m looking for.”
I was a good liar. I’d made a career of it once. But my practice must have been slipping, because Warrick didn’t believe me.
“Right,” he scoffed. “You kissed me, Constance. Not the other way around. If this is about that Marshal reward bullshit, you might as well drop it. I’m not going to turn you in. Not now, not when this is through. You don’t deserve it.”
He really believed that, and it made me want to kiss him again. But I needed to push him away, not bring him closer.
“Yes I do. You have no idea the things I’ve done.”
“So what? You think my hands are cleaner than yours?” He took a step closer to me, and I couldn’t find the strength to back away from him.
“I’ve been around a lot of bad people, Constance. I know the worst from the worst. And that isn’t you. Everything you did, everything you will do, is because you care.”
“How do you know?” I snapped.
“Because if you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have Max along,” he fired back. “You would have tried to use Sephiel. You never would have let me stay.”
I wanted to tell him he was wrong. That he, Seph, and Max didn’t matter to me. Ex
cept that I would be telling the biggest lie of my life. I needed to be cold, to harden myself so I wouldn’t get distracted by thoughts of a future that would probably never happen. One where we all survived and got the things we wanted. It was better– easier– to focus on the problem directly ahead. I couldn’t do that if I started going through a list of ‘What-if’s’ and ‘I hope’s’. But I didn’t want to be that way. Maybe that was the whole problem.
Maybe lying wasn’t what I needed to do. Maybe it was time to tell the truth.
“I loved someone once,” I said. “I thought he was everything I wanted. He was kind of like you. Tough, clever, loyal. At least until he turned on me.”
My mind wandered, and suddenly I was back at the hacienda, doing everything I could to escape.
“It went to shit after that. He tortured me, I killed someone close to him, and he shot me.”
I raised my head, steeling myself and looking into his neon green eyes. He was caught between horror and sympathy. I was halfway there. Time to nail the coffin.
“This ends here, Warrick. I’m not going to be broken again.”
A stricken look crossed his face, but he pulled himself together and seemed undaunted. “I’m not your asshole ex, so stop thinking that I am. I would never hurt you.”
There he went again, saying all the things I wanted to hear and making me ache for him all over again. He deserved way better than me. Warrick should have someone who wouldn’t cause him any pain, but care about him just as much as I did. I swallowed and kept up my wall.
“You already are.”
I might as well have punched him in the chest. He looked confused and crushed, not understanding what he was doing wrong. Except that the problem wasn’t him. It was me.
Warrick tried to say something else, but I wasn’t going to listen. I couldn’t risk giving him a chance to talk me into another state of mind. It was better this way. He didn’t stop me when I brushed past him this time. I walked as quickly as I could, never looking back, though I could feel his eyes on me.