by Celia Kyle
Caith slowly bent, gaze still on the other three vampires, and grasped the handle of her blades. “Who’s next?”
She was more than ready to play. These guys thought it was okay to wake her? Yeah, not so much. She’d been having the best, sex-filled dream that featured Sam and that bed and—
A deep, masculine groan, one without a hint of vamp, reached her.
Sam.
The snap of wood and a thud of something heavy striking a wall filled her ears.
Sam? Or did he toss a vamp?
“Look, I don’t have time for this,” she snapped and pointed at the vamps standing near her. The dumb asses didn’t have sense enough to run. “One, two, three. That’s the order of your deaths unless you run now.”
She got three wide smiles, their white fangs gleaming in the low light.
Caith shrugged. “Suit yourselves.”
It took two seconds and another deep groan from Sam to kill her opponents just as she’d said. Piles of ash decorated the carpet and marred the gleaming black leather that encased her.
She kicked the bedroom doors in, sending the two panels banging against the wall and the echoing boom had the room’s occupants focusing on her.
Ten vamps and three piles of ash. Thirteen. Apparently these fuckers really wanted them dead. Or, at least, wanted to make sure she died.
Not happening.
Three stood over Sam, his face bloodied and bruised, while another three waited to jump into the fray.
That left four facing off against her.
One step and a single swing took out the first. A flying arc took out the second. The third was a dick and disappeared on her, blinking out of sight. Then she was frozen as thick arms encircled her and captured her arms.
She hated vamps and their whole teleporting thing. That was the only way they could have gained access, and now they used that ability against her. She still held her swords, but they were useless while she was captive.
The fourth opponent closed in on her, giving her a menacing smile that widened the closer he got. The one at her back lowered his head, stinking breath fanning over her skin.
When vamp four was within range, she kicked out, striking him in his stomach. The male instinctively bent forward, arms clutching his middle. She jerked her knees up, the vamp at her back holding her weight, and wrapped her legs around the neck of the male in front of her.
Lightning fast, over before either male realized, she squeezed, tightened, and yanked. Her thighs might jiggle, but beneath the fluff were muscles that could tear a man’s head from his body. Or, at least this bloodsucker’s head.
With the vamp holding her falling off balance, it took one backward head butt to get him to release her. Then another spin, slice, and that guy was dust.
“Two for one,” she murmured. She shifted her attention to Sam and the six closing in on him.
Caith’s mother’s molten fury filled her until she bubbled with rage. Her wolf’s howl echoed through her mind and Papa Leth’s battle cry escaped her lips. In two steps she was on them, blades cutting through air and ash. They’d gone after Sam. Fuckers.
With the distraction of her yell, Sam was able to gain his feet and then they battled side by side, arms, legs, and blades working in unison to defeat the green-eyed vamps. One after another fell, and at some point one of her swords ended up in Sam’s hand, telling her more than words could that she trusted the gel.
Which was… weird. She didn’t trust men. Ever. And yet…
Yet Sam swung the blade in a massive arc and cut down the final vamp, ending their bloody conflict as the creature floated to the carpet in a flutter of dust.
Caith wiped her forehead, brushing aside sweat, and she knew she left a streak of gray in her wake. She hated fighting vamps.
She leaned over and shook her head, shaking free ashes that invaded her hair. “I need another shower.”
Sam huffed and released a low chuckle. “That’s all you have to say?”
“I hate the color green?” Boy, did she ever.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I’ll be happy when we figure out where they’re coming from.”
“Zombies and then vamps. Notice an undead theme here?”
Sam nodded and she fought the whimper that threatened to break free. He was sexy even covered in dead vamp. She was so fucked. Eventually. “Yes, I do. Makes me wonder what else we’re going to be faced with.”
She straightened her back and leaned from side to side. She only had six hundred years on her and she felt as if she’d hit her millennial. “If whoever it is sticks with undead, we’re gonna be fine. I mean, what? Maybe they have stronger zombies? Or vamps?” Her back cracked and she sighed. “At worst, I might need a few extra Band-Aids.”
Sam quirked a single brow. “You think vamps and zombies are the only undead?”
Caith frowned. “What else is there?”
“Oh, amica,” he murmured and suddenly a demanding mouth was plastered to hers, tongue delving past her lips and she sank into the searing kiss.
His scent replaced the vamps’, filling her lungs with delicious aromas until her world revolved around Sam. She leaned against him, letting him take her weight as they explored each other. Green-eyed tweens forgotten, she focused on the gel, on the sensations and desire he stoked inside her. Her wolf hadn’t fully retreated and now it pushed at her even harder.
Mate. Mate. Mate.
She was so very close to giving in.
Then, as quickly as he’d stolen her lips, he released her, leaving them both panting and heaving for breath. “I have so much to teach you,” he whispered.
Caith coughed and pulled from his embrace, pushing until he finally released her. “I think we’ve shared enough.”
“Hmm…”
“We, uh, need to leave.” She moved farther away. She needed space, time to think. His nearness was not conducive to her “no sex with Sam” campaign.
“Agreed. I know of a—”
“Oh, no. You picked this place. The next hideout is my decision. Besides, I know someone who can help.”
“Help us more than your uncle? You know someone more powerful than the High Lord of Hell who left us with ghosts to notify us if anyone sneaked in?” His cocky smirk annoyed her and she had half a mind to carve it from his face. Then she remembered how lovely those lips were and settled for glaring at him.
“Uncle Luc gave us a quick and dirty alarm system. He’s not technically supposed to interfere. Same as On High. Everybody’s minions are autonomous, but the bosses aren’t allowed to dick with things.”
“Such respect.”
Caith strode toward the door. She needed to grab her bags and then snare a cab. “C’mon. We need to get a move on. If we hurry, we might get muffins fresh from the oven.”
“Muffins?” Confusion filled his voice. “Where the hell are we going that’ll give us protection, answers, and muffins?”
“Jezebeth’s.”
“The bar witch?”
Caith paused in the doorway and looked back at Sam. Damn, he was sexy, and she wished they didn’t have green-eyed whatevers on their tail because she felt her control wavering. And she couldn’t think of anything better than stripping naked and showering. Together. With all the wetness and slick and mouths and—
She cleared her throat. “Yeah, a witch and a bitch in one. Plus, there’s her mother.”
“Who are you talking about, Caith?”
It was her turn to smirk. “Haven’t you ever heard of Helene Renard?”
Sam’s eyes widened. “Oh.”
Oh was right. From On High to Hell and back, everyone knew Helene Renard. And feared her whether they wanted to admit it or not. On High and Uncle Luc never wanted to see a Renard in their realms, which meant the family continued to grow and strengthen and Caith got to keep her best friend. BFF had a whole other meaning when neither woman died.
“Exactly. Grab your stuff, gel. We’ve g
ot a date with the scariest woman in the tween and her homemade muffins. Hopefully she made blueberry.”
Chapter Six
Caith slowly brought her car to a rolling halt. She was damned thankful she’d made a quick stop at home and snared her car. She fled with her bike last night, belongings strapped to the seat, but she wanted breathing room as she went about her day.
She looked at the Renard home through the windshield. It appeared the same as always, gorgeous and timeless. Which it should considering Momma Renard gave the place a magical facelift every decade or so.
Climbing from her vehicle, she shoved the door closed and turned toward the house. She’d spent countless days with the Renards over the centuries. While Caith’s demon nature kept her snarling and quick to anger, the Renards were bright and loving. Something she desperately needed over the years. The women in the family kept her rage at bay and brought a smile to her face.
True, her fathers loved her, but only Papa Percy played with her. And her mother… was not the most maternal woman in the world.
Which was why she valued Momma R so much.
A whiff of sweetness and sulfur carried on the breeze and she didn’t need to look around to identify her visitor. The heat from his presence and the way her body called for his was a hint as well.
“Took you long enough,” Sam murmured.
“Yeah, well, I prefer not to be stranded when my feathered friend leaves me behind.”
His voice belied his anger. “I wouldn’t leave you behind, amica. You’re too important to me.”
She snorted. “Right.”
“I want my hands on you and that’s very, very important.”
Cocky asshole. She ignored the fact that her wolf said, “Yes, please.”
When had she turned into such a whore? About the time she laid eyes on the half-fallen angel.
“What’d you do while I drove here?” she murmured.
“This and that.” He shrugged.
Before she could prod him for a better answer, the front door of the Renard house squeaked as it pushed open, drawing her attention, and Momma R stepped onto the porch. She was trim and gorgeous, hair perfectly in place and makeup magically applied. The only thing that marred the woman’s appearance was the ever-present stained apron. Even at their distance, she spotted the flour and purple-blue ruining the fabric.
Smiling widely, she left Sam in her wake as she rushed up the stairs. She’d held things together so far, pretending that fighting green-eyed zombies and vamps didn’t bother her in the least. But with Momma R so close…
She didn’t stop her jog until she crashed into the lithe woman. She wrapped her arms around Momma R’s waist, holding her close and breathing in the woman’s homey scent. The witch could destroy a city block with a few whispered words and was dangerous to anyone who annoyed her, but to Caith, she was simply a surrogate mother.
Momma R enveloped her in peace and love.
“Hello, my little demon.” Her voice was a soothing song and the remaining tension bled from Caith’s body.
Those small hands skated up and down her back and she ignored Sam’s heavy tread as he climbed the steps.
Momma R did not and she sensed the woman’s anger whip out at the angel. “What brings someone from On High to my door? We have an agreement.”
The scrape of Sam’s boot on the porch alerted her to the fact that Momma R shoved the man without laying a hand on him.
Caith slowly pulled from her surrogate mother’s embrace. “I brought him with me. Sort of.” It was more like Sam attached himself to her like a barnacle. “He helped me out of a couple binds yesterday.”
Hours ago.
Sam snorted, but a stomp told her Momma R shoved him again.
“He’s okay, Momma. Let’s go inside and I’ll fill in you and Jezze.” Her best friend was practically bouncing inside the house, anxious to burst onto the porch. But since Momma R was the more powerful of the two women and Caith brought a stranger along, it was Momma who met them.
The woman cupped her cheeks, those powerful eyes boring into hers as if hunting for the truth.
And… Sam was an idiot because he just had to interrupt. “What are you doing to her?” He rushed forward and clamped a hand on Caith’s shoulder. Probably ready to rip her out of the woman’s embrace. “Leave her be.”
The witch froze, and Caith sighed.
“Excuse me?” Momma R’s voice was too calm and smooth.
“Momma R, he doesn’t know better.” She pulled free of the woman’s gentle hold and stepped back. “You can’t blame a guy for worrying. He’s spent the last eight hours keeping me alive and you’re… Well, to everyone else you’re very scary.”
“Hmm…” The witch’s searching eyes didn’t miss anything as her gaze flitted from Caith to Sam and back again. When her attention remained on Caith, a knowing gleam filled her features. Ugh. Even Momma R knew Caith wanted to ride Sam like a cowgirl. “Come inside. I made muffins and we can discuss this unpleasantness.”
With that, Momma R spun and entered the house.
“Blueberry?” She hoped it was blueberry. Nom, nom, nom.
“I knew you were coming,” Momma R called over her shoulder. “Of course they’re blueberry.”
Caith moved to follow her and a soft hand on her forearm stopped her as Sam’s presence invaded her space. “You have an unholy love of blueberry muffins.”
Unholy. That was her, despite her mother’s attempt otherwise.
She turned her head to the left, lips hovering near his ear. “Baking goes hand in hand with love and affection. With… with having a real mother.”
Cursing herself for revealing too much, she pulled away from him and entered the house, not slowing until she hit the kitchen. Jezze was bouncing around the room, snaring bits of muffin while avoiding her mother’s glares and whips of magic. Her friend’s laugh filled the area and Caith’s heart clenched. Her best friend acted like a kid—even at three hundred seventy-two—and it was something she envied. Had Caith ever been so carefree? Ever been able to laugh and tease her mother? No.
“Caith, ohmahgah, you have to try some of this.” Jezebeth ducked yet another smack and flashed Caith a grin. “So good.”
“Caith can have her own.” A small plate holding a single, large muffin glided through the air.
When Jezze reached for it, her hand slid right through the food and her friend frowned.
“Neat trick.” Sam’s words halted all movement.
Momma R stilled and then slowly placed her mixing spoon on the rest before carefully turning. Oh, crap, she had that look in her eyes.
Caith leapt to her feet and bolted to stand before him. “Now, Momma R, you can’t kill him. He’s half fallen so taking his head only gives him a fifty-fifty chance of ending up back in On High. I mean, you don’t wanna curse a mostly good guy to Uncle Luc, do you?” She smiled, hoping the witch agreed with her. When Momma R didn’t immediately respond, worry filled Caith’s veins. “C’mon, I actually like parts of him.”
The woman tried to look past Caith. “Which parts?”
“Yes, amica, which parts?” He placed his hands on her hips and held her steady as he rubbed his half-hard cock against her ass.
Momma R’s eyes widened, Jezebeth squeaked, and a heated blush stole over Caith’s cheeks. The man no longer needed to worry about Momma R sending him to Hell. She’d save the woman the trouble.
“I see,” the witch murmured.
“No, there’s no seeing needed. He just chopped off a head or two and that’s all.” She rushed the words out, hoping the two women believed her.
Their echoing snorts told her they did not.
Caith’s got a boyfriend… At least it’s only one. Jezebeth’s voice floated through her mind.
“This is the first time my little demon’s brought a boy home.”
Sam’s chuckle filled her ear and she jumped forward, putting space between them. “
No, this is not bringing a boy home. This is appreciation and I thought he might be able to help. That’s it.”
“That’s not it,” Sam piped up, and she slowly turned to face him. He grinned widely, hands deep in his pockets. He was having way too much fun with this.
“Oh, that’s so it.”
“Then what do you call what we did when I was—”
The ground could open and send her straight to Uncle Luc’s now.
Caith rushed forward and slapped her hand over his mouth. “I call it nothing.”
He smiled wider against her palm and mirth filled his glacial eyes. He slowly raised his arm and grasped her wrist, gently tugging her hand away. “I call it being more than just friends or even ‘help’ with your problem. Much, much more. Why won’t you admit it, amica?”
“Now, I understand,” Momma R’s voice rang out in the ensuing silence and Caith turned to face the witch. “You would have beheaded him for calling you sweetheart if you didn’t care for him, little demon.”
A spear of anger smacked her a split-second before Sam spoke. “Stop calling her that.”
Yes, Uncle Luc could call her home any second.
“Why?” Momma R’s lips twitched.
“She’s not a demon.”
“But she is.”
Sam growled. “Not only a demon, then.”
“Hmm…” Momma R pointed at the kitchen table. “Sit, I’ll get you a muffin.”
Caith released the breath she’d been holding and let some of her tension drain away. Even if she disagreed with half of what had been said, she was happy Sam hadn’t been killed. Or worse.
She snared his hand and tugged him to the table, only releasing him when she pulled her chair out and lowered into a seat. The moment he took a seat, a treat was placed before him. The muffin was still hot and she stared at it longingly.
The butter would melt so nicely…
As if reading her mind, Sam swapped their plates, giving her a wink before he took a bite of her cooled breakfast.