by Lynn Rush
“I will not.” Russell knelt beside Jessica.
Beka whimpered.
“No! Russell,” I said.
He picked Jessica up and backed away, eyes focused on Beka. “The girl lives.”
“Run, Russell,” Beka said. She squeezed her eyes shut, and the demon slid the blade. Her head fell back, and she sagged to the ground.
I leapt into the air and collided with the demon. His blade punctured my hand, then chest, but I saw only red. With one swipe of my nails, his head tipped. I landed on my shoulder, the gravel shredding my shirt. I rolled and scrambled to my Beka.
I wove one hand behind her head, cupping her blood-soaked skull, and my other clasped her neck, holding it together. “No!”
My hands turned human, and the blood streamed through my fingers. “Beka.” My human voice cracked. Her head didn’t roll off completely, so the cut had not gone through the entire neck. Please let her survive. Her strength was great, hopefully enough to have prevented complete separation.
So much blood, though. Pools formed beneath her head.
I’d battled many Guardians before. They were strong. Fighters. No angelic dust yet. She could still survive.
“Beka.” I held her neck tight. “Heal. God. Please heal.”
A sting, like liquor drizzled on an open wound, enveloped my hand. Electricity jolted up my arm and over my shoulder, leaving a wake of flames licking the surface of my skin. I bit back the instinct to jerk away.
My bellow rent the air.
All that connected her neck to her body were my hands. I must bear the agony and hold her together. I just hoped her Guardian nature fused her neck together instead of dissolving into the ground.
The burn zipped over my shoulder and into my chest. My heart seized. An ache froze my lungs, and the air rushed out. Nothing worked to draw in another breath.
I could not die, but it felt as if I had. My body sagged to the side. I held Beka’s neck steadfast. She’d yet to move.
“No.” I morphed into my demonic form. My heart stampeded back into action.
Beka choked out streams of red. Her body convulsed within my grasp. With one hand encompassing her neck, I wove my other arm around her waist and gathered her body to mine, her back to my stomach as I sat. “Breathe, Beka. Breathe.”
Her heart pounded like a drum, strong and fast. Funny, mine beat the same rhythm. Her lungs expanded with mine. It didn’t make sense, but I didn’t care. I hugged her, reveling in the wonderful beating within her chest as I released the demon’s hold.
Sitting on the cold, hard asphalt of the deserted parking lot, I buried my face in her matted, crimson-stained hair. I still detected a scent of lilacs above the metallic blood and dirt crusting her mane.
Mine.
The cold reality of what I’d done settled in. I’d lost my Mark to the Guardians, killed many of my kind. Soon, Master would call my contract in, compelling me to return to him.
But at least Beka lived.
I loosened my grip around her neck, convinced it had healed enough to not tip off her shoulders. A faint, thin ruby line ran the width of her throat. I skimmed my forefinger over the mark and savored her warmth.
Yes, she would be fine. I should leave now. Go face my judgment before Master ignites the contract and the burn drags me back to him.
I would feel enough torture for the next fifty years, no need to add to it by staying. I scanned the area. All clear. Russell had probably taken Jessica to their stronghold. I’d lost my chance with Jessica, but saved Beka.
I traced my fingers over her cheek and along her lower lip. I leaned forward and pressed my mouth against hers, then slid my arm out from around her. Her body eased off mine and onto the asphalt. I pushed myself up and stood over her.
Her head tilted, and her eyes remained closed as if in a deep slumber. I scooped her up into my arms and crossed the empty lot toward the coffee store Russell had mentioned.
I would see her safely there. Hopefully she would awaken and find her way to the safe house. She and Russell would protect the girl. Once Master learned the Guardian’s had my Mark, he would call me to him. Nothing could stop that now.
Beka’s cheek rested on my chest. Long eyelashes dusted her smooth, pale cheeks. The intimate contact stirred my demon. Not so much in violence like usual, more subtle. Subdued. Beka had seen my beast. Disgust ruled her eyes more than once. A memory I would not relish in solitary.
I tilted my head and rested my cheek on her forehead. Strands of hair tickled my nose, infusing her scent deep within me. That scent would get me through my punishment. The memory of our kiss. Her body molded to mine in the alley.
The tan stucco coffee house came into view, and I stopped at the curb across the street. The store’s windows were dark, save the dim security lights casting a meek shadow on the empty chairs visible through the window.
A sapphire awning hung over the door, and a red bench sat empty, to the right of the entrance. The perfect spot to set her down for Russell to find. I inspected the treasure in my arms and tightened my hold. Her head tilted back, exposing her neck. Through the darkness I made out the line marring her skin. Forever marked by one of my kind.
“I love you, Rebeka Abbot.” I peppered kisses along her forehead. “I know you can’t hear me. But I had to say it out loud at least once.”
I crossed the deserted street, my heart cracking with each step.
I settled her on the bench and rested her hands on her stomach. I knelt before her and caressed her cheek. Her head tilted toward me.
“You’ll always be mine.”
I pressed my lips against hers, for one last memory of her warmth, taste and smell. Maybe after two-hundred and fifty years, when I was released, I could find her again.
She would still reject me. She should reject me. I was demon.
But a demon who had found love. I would concentrate on that for the next quarter millennia.
I stood and turned my back on the only person I would ever love.
“Don’t go.” Russell’s voice flooded the overhead speakers. “Jessica can save your soul.”
CHAPTER 18
I froze on the sidewalk, beneath the sodium lights of the overhang, and faced the building. It might have been wishful thinking that made me hear Russell’s voice. Maybe I’d finally cracked, mentally, and imagined his proclamation.
“Hello?” I said, facing the dark picture window. Further scans of the area showed me empty sidewalks. A short distance away, at the corner, the mechanical voice of the crosswalk counted down until the light turned to walk.
Beka lay motionless on the bench.
“Pick her up and move to the door,” Russell’s voice came out of the darkness from the speaker. “Do it now.”
I gathered Beka in my arms. She nestled her face to my neck and breathed a deep sigh. It was the first movement she’d made on her own since the injury. She must be healing.
“Jessica … safe,” she whispered.
Even while straddling consciousness and unconsciousness, she worried for the girl’s safety above her own. She’d sacrificed herself for the girl. But even more aggravating, Russell had been all too willing to sacrifice Beka for Jessica.
“She is safe. Be still, my love,” I said with my mouth against her forehead.
I faced the front of the door, and the lock disengaged. I stepped back, analyzing the structure. The door was shaded, blocking me from seeing inside the establishment. Much like the tinting on the window to the room in Beka’s apartment.
Balancing her weight, I reached for the steel handle and pulled it open. A wave of cool air funneled out, along with shuffling and heavy breathing. I stopped in the middle of the doorway. Icy fingers cuffed my wrist and dragged me in, nearly dislodging my grip on Beka.
Cold metal pressed against my neck, while a figure skimmed by me and shut the door. The lock clicked.
I froze, fighting the raging instinct to morph into my demon half. Logically, I knew the person holding the sword against me to
be Russell, but with all that had happened in the last day I fought to maintain control over the beast.
“She lives,” Russell whispered. “I feared the worst.”
I scanned the barely lit room. Eight round tables littered the floor and two plush couches in the corner made up the meager coffee house. The back of the room had a door, propped open and a sliver of light tinted red from the exit sign, glowed.
The blade disappeared from my throat, but in the next breath it chilled the base of my neck.
“Walk,” Russell said.
“There is no need for the weapon.”
“I’ll determine that, thank you.”
“It would do you no good.”
“I did see the sparks ignite when the blades slid against your throat when you stepped in front of Rebeka. I do not understand this.”
“Then why do you insist on jabbing me with the blade?” I moved toward the open door. The sign next to the door said electrical. “You are taking me to the electrical closet?”
“You can see that?”
“I see most everything in the darkness.”
“Demon.”
“Yet you bring me into your safe haven and allow me to carry your sister and fought by my side.”
“Anything to save Jessica.”
“That includes sacrificing your sister.” I stopped by the door.
“If it was the price to save Jessica, yes.”
“You are lucky I do not share your convictions.”
“You saved her?”
“I believe that obvious since I hold her in my arms at the moment.” I growled. “You, however, sacrificed her without a second thought. I am not pleased by your actions, Russell.”
The cold, metal hilt of the sword cracked against my temple. Pain radiated down the side of my face to the base of my neck. My fangs slid out, and I snapped at Russell’s blade, my full demon surfaced.
“How dare you say I did it without a second thought. She is my—” His shoulders widened. “I did what was needed.”
Moisture pooled at the rims of his eyes. He stared me down, his jaw tense. He must not realize his behaviors were a direct challenge. I bit back a roar. He knew not what he did with such actions. I embraced Beka, my anchor to sanity. She was mine. Her safety was all that mattered.
“Back away,” I managed a whisper, fighting for control.
I focused on Beka’s face. Her delicate skin and full lips. I called on my human half, but the fiery demon refused to back down from a direct challenge.
Russell must have sensed the rage billowing off me and broke eye contact with me. “I did not mean to challenge you, David. I apologize.”
My claws and fangs retracted.
“Jeez, David,” Russell said.
“Do not stare me down again if you wish to live.” My human voice was barely audible. Sweat trickled between my shoulder blades. I stood frozen, waiting for him to direct me.
He reached around me and swung the door open. “Keep moving.”
I walked through the threshold, into the small closet. The hum of electricity emanated from the metal boxes hanging on the white walls, and the air carried a trace of sulfur.
Metal rang against metal as Russell sheathed his sword. Light flickered on above us, and the door shut. At the same time a gate, inches before us, slid to the side and latched onto unseen hinges. The floor shifted beneath me.
An elevator. I held Beka close.
“Relax. It’s just an elevator.”
“I have heard of them.”
Russell coughed. “Heard of them?”moce
“Until I arrived at the hotel in this town, I had never been in one.” I regarded the dark door boxing me in next to a Guardian and chuckled. Never envisioned myself locked in a wee room with an agent of Light, holding another agent of Light, with whom I’d fallen in love.
Master may call my contract due at any time, igniting an agony in my chest that wouldn’t subside until I went to him. But when Russell admitted Jessica might be able to save me, I couldn’t walk away. I had to risk punishment.
The sickening motion of our descent ended with a jolt, and sent me bouncing back. I’d heard about elevators when they first came into invention; however, the hotel’s was smoother. I’d prefer not to ride either again.
The doors creaked open and a long, dark, narrow hallway greeted me. “Where are we?” I steadied myself on the now-solid ground.
“Tunnel under the street to the club.”
“You constructed this?”
Russell ducked beneath the door out from the elevator. “It existed, we modified for our needs.”
“We?”
“We have connections, remember?”
“Humans assist you?”
Russell reached for Beka. “I’ll take her.”
I hugged her close and twisted away from him.
“You are a strange demon to figure out.” He moved down the hallway.
He wasn’t the only one confused by my behavior, my emotions. The demon hadn’t chipped away all of my humanity, and my feelings for Beka, my need to protect her, trumped logic.
Had I taken a deep breath and stood tall, my shoulders might touch both sides of the concrete walls and my head the ceiling. I cradled Beka close and slouched enough to move without scraping her or myself against the concrete shrouding me.
Thick, damp air, carrying the scent of dirt and mold filled my lungs. I pressed my cheek to Beka’s forehead and let her familiar scent replace the dankness of this place.
Russell stopped in front of a metal door and peeked through the square window. He eased the door open, his hand on the hilt of his sword strapped around his waist. Cries from the rusty hinges echoed down the hall.
Grateful to be done with the claustrophobic tunnel, I welcomed the sight of stairs in the well-lit stairwell. We climbed three flights and met another door.
My arms twitched with fatigue, and I adjusted Beka higher to lean more into me. Her head rested on my shoulder, near my neck, bathing me in her fragrance. Dried blood ringed the neck of her copper shirt, tainting her lilac smell with a metallic scent. Strands of stiff, crimson-stained hair fell over her forehead as her head swayed with my movement.
Russell cranked open another steel door, holding it wide for me to pass. I stepped into the hallway I recognized as the one outside their apartment. I strode onward.
The door swung open and a massive guy, long raven hair draped over his broad shoulders, stepped through the doorframe holding a sword.
My heart discharged like a hand grenade. The demon burst forth and let out a hiss that would have scared a rattlesnake. My teeth elongated and talons emerged ready for battle should I have to drop Beka to fight.
The man’s golden eyes flickered. He struck. I ducked, freed my arm from beneath Beka’s knees and held her upper body to mine as I swiped at the blade. Sparks ignited as my wrist met the metal.
“No,” Russell yelled. “Abraham, stand down.”
I turned my body to shield Beka. Her legs swayed limp like a rag doll. So vulnerable.
Mine.
My instinct to protect her rivaled a wolf’s protecting his mate. And she wasn’t even my mate—officially.
The giant retreated to the doorframe, holding the sword up. “Demon.”
Russell reached for the one he called Abraham. “I know.” He glanced at me. “It’s complicated.”
“What is the complication, sir? Red skin, fangs, and black nails. Kill him.”
“Do you not see who he holds?”
Abraham analyzed me with wide, golden eyes. He must finally recognize the long, blond hair draped against my chest. I had her face cradled close, shielding her from possible injury. “Our—”
“Back off or you shall die.”
“A demon protects our —”
Russell raised his hand. “Silence. Sheath your weapon and back away.”
The giant gave me another look but obeyed. Russell approached me, palms up. “Calm down, David.”
/> “You and your people would do better to not surprise me.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “We are all on edge. It is only Abraham, Jessica, and Elizabeth in the room. Please, you will scare the girls if they see you like this.”
I bent my knees and wove my arm beneath Beka’s legs, cradling her limp body to my chest once again. I rested my cheek on her temple and focused on my human half. The one longing to join with Beka. To be with her always. Russell’s tension-creased face softened. He brushed his knuckles down Beka’s cheek.
“Your Abraham started to call her something. Our what?”
“We will talk later. Once Beka awakens.” Russell stepped toward the open door but stopped and looked back. “But know this. You saved more than one treasure tonight.”
CHAPTER 19
Abraham stood outside the door leading to the dark room, his hands propped behind his back. He donned a supply of knives tucked into a dark vest, a long sword strapped to his side, and black boots with steel tips.
A thick band of leather encompassed his neck and wrists. Long black hair draped his wide, muscled shoulders. He turned in my direction and grumbled, then faced forward again.
“He guards the girl?”
“Yes.” Russell exited the kitchen holding two plates of food. Beka lay on her side, back against the couch and head resting on a bright orange pillow. I sat on the edge of the soft, leather couch, my backside near Beka’s stomach and planted my elbows on my knees, hands clasped before me.
“How long will Beka be like this? She’s moved only twice,” I asked.
“She’s healing. Let me look at her.” He set the plates on the table before me, then knelt near her head and brushed the hair from her face.
I didn’t move. Instead, I picked up the plate and swirled steaming noodles around the fork.
“What’s this?” Russell asked.
He pointed to the ruby line across her throat. “That is where the blade severed her neck.”
He faced me. “Severed?”
The image of her neck detaching cinched my stomach like a noose. “I held her together until she healed enough to move.”
Russell held my gaze. His mouth opened, then shut again. He returned his focus to Beka. “She should not have a mark. Once we heal, all traces are gone.” He bowed closer, touching the mark. It spanned the entire front of her neck and was a quarter inch wide. “Was it deep?”