Not I’m coming, but he’s coming. Did it have to do with that feeling that someone was after her? Why shout it during orgasm? Like the thought that an unknown someone after her turned her on?
A warm glow spread along her center, a feeling that had nothing to do with her last few minutes with Creed. A feeling she hadn’t experienced since her last night with Mitchell, before the fire had claimed him. How she missed that glow. Many times, she weighed what she’d give to feel it again.
She was fucked up. No more males until she straightened her shit out.
Chapter Five
Bishop studied the remnants of the tanker. Twisted, blackened metal sat in a heap surrounded by singed earth. The blow had been a doozy. The surrounding gravel and grass were still damp from the effort to put out the blaze. Good thing it’d been in the middle of nowhere.
So his dream hadn’t been a dream. He’d somehow visited Kim in his sleep.
He could work with that.
She wasn’t far ahead of him, he could feel it.
A car approached, but he didn’t move. Either they were going to pass or stop and ask him questions, of which he had a few of his own.
His phone vibrated. Damn Demetrius wouldn’t leave him alone. Bishop knew he’d have to spill his guts. The time Demetrius had given him was running out.
Headlights grew closer and slowed. A patrol car with the word “Sheriff” scrawled along the side parked several feet away. Could be good, could be bad.
An older man climbed out, his expression troubled.
“Evening, sir,” Bishop greeted. “Hell of an accident you got here. What happened?”
The man scratched his head. His rumpled uniform and tired eyes looked like he hadn’t slept for a week. His gaze was wary as he absorbed Bishop’s size. “It blew.”
“I can see that,” Bishop replied drily. The deputy—no, his insignia said he was a sheriff—was already bristling from his tone. “The driver okay?”
Silence. Bishop froze, waiting for the answer. That certainly wasn’t pride he felt, that his demon could drive an eighteen-wheeler. But could she survive an explosion?
“Remains to be seen.”
Enough waiting. Bishop caught the man’s gaze and held it. “Where is she?”
The sheriff’s eyes glazed over. The fatigue lining his face made Bishop’s mental takeover as easy as slicing through warm pie.
“She got away. All my records were deleted, and my deputy disappeared. The hospital doesn’t remember her.” Information spilled forth easily, like he’d been dying to confess his troubles to someone. “It’s like she never existed, but I remember.”
“What’d she say her name was?”
“Kim Laurent.”
Shock broke his contact with the sheriff, but he recaptured it before the man grew too troubled to entrance. Why had she used Bishop’s last name? Couldn’t another fake one do? Smith? Cornucopia?
“How’d she get away?” Had she seduced the sheriff? Bishop had sworn to protect the weaker creatures roaming this earth, but the sheriff’s life expectancy was dropping.
“I think my deputy let her go. He’s missing. I went to his place, and except for the overwhelming smell of matches, nothing’s out of place.”
Brimstone. Another demon had gotten to her. Was she running from more than Bishop? He hadn’t questioned why she’d appeared on Earth and then taken off. Assumed it had to do with him, and how he, Demetrius, and Rourke had taken out their intermediary for human hosts. But why was she here in the first place?
He’d refused to turn over his team to her or give her information that’d help demons infiltrate the realm. Was his demon in trouble?
A phone rang. Bishop automatically grabbed for his, but the sheriff snatched his own phone and answered.
“Johnson,” he barked. “Where the hell are you? Sioux Falls? What the fuck for?”
Bishop’s sensitive hearing picked up the response from a frantic male. “I woke up on a toilet. I don’t remember driving here, Sheriff. I don’t even remember getting dressed, but I’m in a gas station with my patrol car.”
Bishop cut in. “What gas station?”
The sheriff jerked like he’d been startled and his other hand reached for his gun. But Bishop heard the deputy answer.
“You don’t want to do that,” Bishop said in a low voice that cast a stronger thrall.
“I don’t want to do that,” the sheriff echoed.
“Sheriff?” The deputy probably needed the toilet he found himself on. The guy sounded sick with fear.
“Get on back here. We’ll figure this out.” The sheriff disconnected and stood scowling at the wreckage.
Bishop didn’t have to exert much effort to convince him their conversation had never happened.
Driving away, he made sure the sheriff didn’t pursue him, but no worries. The human hadn’t moved.
His demon had thrown them for a loop. But did she have help, or was she in trouble? Or both?
Bishop chose the on-ramp that’d take him to Sioux Falls. She was trying to get to Chicago to hide. He’d drive as far as he could and then hunker down for the day and figure out how to get back into her dreams.
***
Fyra sagged into the bed. She’d made it to Chicago. The car’s GPS had been critical. She’d made it to town in time to hit up a women’s plus-size store, but then she’d looked in the mirror. Covered in soot and dressed in Deputy Johnson’s too-short clothing, she’d decided to rent a room and shower before going shopping.
She could sleep for twelve hours. And really, she could. No one knew what she drove but Stryke, and she…trusted him. What an unusual sensation. She didn’t like it, but he wanted something in return, so there was that. What if he turned on her?
On this, he wouldn’t. She sensed his urgency. He had a personal agenda that he didn’t want the Circle to know about.
She unwound the towel around her hair and dropped it on the floor where she’d shed Johnson’s pants. At least she’d pulled off the capris look in them. Summer was long over, but that was the beautiful thing about the modern day. No more fretting about fitting in. Not like sixty years ago, when she’d come to the realm as a child with her mother.
Sighing, she closed her eyes. Those were the days. Her mother with her own second-tier duties, bringing her. They’d escape to walk among the humans and Fyra would be informed how the underworld really worked.
They don’t want you to know this, Fyra, but there’s more to life than what the Circle dictates. Their greed will be their own destruction.
A tear snuck through her closed eyelids. She hastily wiped it away and rolled to her side.
They will use every part of you if you let them. They think we’re disposable. Always save a part of yourself from them.
“I miss you,” Fyra mumbled before she drifted off.
Chapter Six
Chicago. Bishop hadn’t been here in years. So much had changed, but he was used to watching the growth and spread of humans. More neighborhoods had popped up, and gas stations stood on every corner, it seemed. Even at night, he didn’t remember so much traffic.
It’d be fun to tour around the city and reminisce, but his concentration was on a demon. The sun didn’t rise for another two hours, but he wanted to fall asleep before he expected his demon to wake.
Why could she be out in the daylight and vampires couldn’t? Vampires were always told their darker souls spurned the sunlight. Yet, more powerful vampires could tolerate weak rays.
He’d think on it later; another ominous task loomed. He punched in D’s number.
“About fucking time.” The vampire sounded out of breath.
His friend had been a pesky bastard. Served him right that Bishop had finally decided to talk when D was balls-deep in his mate.
Bishop sat on the motel bed and propped his elbows on his knees. A million times he’d practiced what to say. How to ease into the story. But nothing had felt right, so he’d choose directness. “I got tricked in
to bonding with a demon.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, not knowing what to expect. But the five-hundred-pound anvil that lifted off his chest as soon as he spilled his secret was a relief.
“Well?” Demetrius sounded equal parts pissed and worried. “You gonna tell me the rest?”
“She used a human to bait me, waited until I was about to climax, and…she just asked me to repeat some words and I didn’t think—had no clue… I tried to stay away, I really did. But her human hosts would change and I couldn’t stay in my room forever. Each time, she’d find me through the bond.”
Bishop rubbed his eyes to get through the tense silence. Why hadn’t he told D earlier? Not only was he the boss, but they’d been close friends for decades. His teammates were the only ones he trusted.
“I didn’t give her any info, you gotta believe that,” Bishop continued. “She tried. The bond was strong, but I kept my mouth shut. Then a couple nights ago, I felt her presence in our realm. I’m going to get her, D. I’m going to hunt her down and make this right.”
“What do you know about her?”
He hung his head. “Nothing.” Then he snapped straight. “Wait, she’s got fire issues. Looks like fire, too.”
Bishop’s heart thudded against his ribs waiting for Demetrius to say something. “You’ll need to elaborate.”
He heard rustling on the other side of the phone. D’s mate, Calli, was probably taking notes. She was their all-around demon expert, having been bonded to one—as a child, whereas Bishop was a grown-ass vampire.
“I haven’t seen her face to face, but there’s this thing that happened. I projected into her sleeping environment. She’s big, like curves for miles, and long—I mean tall, she wasn’t standing. And her hair is like a campfire. Shots of yellow in deep orange, but her eyes remind me of a simple flame. Yellow and flickering with life. Those lips of hers are red and full like they got too hot and swelled up. Her voice is husky, like—” He cut himself off before the words pure sex spilled out. “I’ve been able to follow her by scanning for reports of car fires and explosions. I don’t know if she’s impulsive and they’re intentional or if she can’t control them.”
“Obviously a fire demon.” Demetrius paused and Bishop wondered if an ass-chewing was next. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to take care of it myself. It’s humiliating how easy I made it for her.”
“And when you find her, then what?”
“Get answers.”
“You shouldn’t do this alone. Where are you? I’ll send Rourke.”
Bishop’s mouth snapped shut. He and Rourke usually partnered, but he didn’t want his friends around her. What if…what if they…wanted to kill her? It’d be the logical way to free him from the bond.
“Bishop.” The warning tone that had been growing in D’s voice was in full effect.
“I’ll take care of her.”
“How? You described her like a rare flower, sounded like a boy who’d seen his first pinup. She tricked you with sex before you saw the real her. You’re keeping her from us for a reason.”
“I want to deal with her,” Bishop gritted out.
“She’s a demon.”
“She’s mine,” he roared. He clamped his jaw shut.
Ominous quiet descended over the room. Hellfire, he was fighting with Demetrius over his demon. As good as turning on his team.
Bishop’s head sagged. “I’ll text you the address and room number.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded strangled, but he would be long gone before Rourke could get here.
“Have you fed recently?”
He’d been on the road and surrounded by humans. His stomach turned. Might as well be coasting through a vegan buffet. He wanted none of it.
“Not hungry.” He wasn’t. With no fighting, he didn’t need replenishment as often.
“I’m sending Rourke,” Demetrius said softly. “And Bishop, we’ll figure out what’s going on and get this demon. Trust us.”
Bishop cut the connection without a reply, texted the information before he lost his nerve, and collapsed back on the bed from his sitting position.
Get this demon.
Why’d he hate the sound of that?
He used to be the calm, sensible one. His colossal size wasn’t an excuse to become a brainless battering ram. He’d prided himself on his ability to outthink the enemy, had been involved in D’s movement to overthrow their previous government from the beginning. Except for his relationship with his mam and her paranoia, he was an open book to his team. Then Kim had tricked him and he’d become a discombobulated mess.
What would his mother say? She’d been an intensely private but superior female who’d protected him and raised him to think before he acted.
Since that demon stormed into his life, he’d been doing the complete opposite.
Fatigue weighed him down and his eyelids drifted shut. He should lift his legs up and straighten out, but after that conversation, the urge to commune with his demon was stronger than ever.
***
Something was calling her. Fyra frowned. Hadn’t she been sleeping for hours? She drifted out of slumber to awareness without coming fully awake.
“Kim Laurent? Really?”
Fyra frowned. The name wasn’t right, but the voice was, except for the sadness touching the words. “Bishop,” she purred and opened her eyes.
He was stretched on his side across from her. How handy for the dream to plop him in a comfortable position to talk.
His expression was subdued. A seductive response formed, but she held it back. “What’s wrong?”
She expected an arched eyebrow, a cocky response, but his features grew more troubled. “Why would you ask that?”
Because he looked like shit, that’s why she’d asked. “Can’t I wonder what’s wrong?”
“What would you do with the information?”
She would’ve sat up in a huff, but she didn’t want to disturb their intimate position. Not sexual, but close, cozy. Like it offered support. The last thing she wanted was to fully wake and lose her big vampire. “Fine, don’t tell me. What are you doing here, then?” Not that I’m complaining.
“What are you doing here?”
“Vacation.”
He grunted. “Looking for more young women to corrupt? Hunting prime families for your precious Circle to possess?”
“Yes,” she replied, her tone flat, “exactly. Because that’s what Rancor turned me around and sent me out to do as soon as I could tell him nothing about your team. He said, ‘That’s okay, Fyra. Don’t worry, you’ll get it next time. Now go try harder.’”
It wasn’t until a smug smile lifted the corner of his mouth that she realized her slip.
“Fyra.” His gaze swept across her hair, then hooked back onto her eyes. A subtle cranberry glow burned in the depths of his steely irises. “Fitting. Fyra what?”
She suppressed a shudder. How was a demon girl supposed to resist a virile male like him saying her name twice within seconds? He thought she hadn’t told him what it was because names held power, but not the way he assumed. Names weren’t necessary for incantations. Sure, they helped, but there were always loopholes. The underworld was like a legal team scouring the world for ways to get what they wanted.
It was Bishop saying her name that gave him power. His rumble was so deep it tumbled her cells apart until he incorporated himself between them.
Maybe it had been a bad idea to bind him.
“Fyra?”
Oh, hellfire, she had to put a stop to him saying it. “We don’t use last names.”
He considered her words. “Rancor, one of the thirteen?”
Oops, she’d let that tidbit go, too. “How many do you know?”
“You didn’t come back with the information they wanted.” He evaded her question. “What’d he do to you?”
“Nothing,” she snapped, her fear from the encounter flaring bright. “But, oh, he tried. Rather than becoming his
chew toy of revenge, I used our bond to cross into this realm.” It’d been such a crapshoot. A Hail Mary of a chance, to use a forbidden term.
His eyes narrowed and she sucked in a breath. The cloud of his rage covered her better than the hotel comforter. “He was going to abuse you?”
She waved it off, like no big. Hopefully, he didn’t see her hand shaking. “You mean, just another Saturday to Rancor. It’s not a matter of if, but when you’re brutalized in the underworld, and it usually happens before puberty. We’re demons, after all.”
More quiet speculation. One look and most people probably stereotyped him as a big, dumb brute. When she’d first seen him, she’d assumed he was a rutting male ruled more by his sex drive than his brains.
Not long after, she’d realized she was wrong and targeted him. Strategy-schmategy. She’d wanted to learn more about Bishop Laurent.
“We’ll help you,” he offered. “Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you. Tell us about Rancor and the other twelve.”
“Good try. Secure that idea in the bottle of a Molotov cocktail and chuck it out the window.”
His brows dropped down. “What do you mean?”
“Walk into a den of vampires and say, ‘I come in peace’? What’s your leader—Demetrius?—going to do when he discovers you and I are connected? I’m sure after Draken, he knows there’s one sure way out of this bond.” Was that why Bishop was trying to lure her in? To kill her and free himself?
Bollocks. Those were not tears burning the backs of her eyes.
“We’re not irrational creatures. If you help us, we’ll help you.”
“Then what?” She shook her head. “No. I’m not going to offer myself on a platter, and I refuse to spend more of my life as a prisoner.”
His gaze sharpened. What had he thought, that she served the Circle because of the fun and games?
“If you continue to run,” he growled, “you won’t have just me to worry about. My whole team will be hunting you.”
“Join the party.”
“Let me help you, Fyra.”
Bishop (New Vampire Disorder Book 3) Page 4