by Unknown
All dead.
I’d seen a lot of bloodshed in my life. Hell, I’d been the cause of most of it, but what I found at the bottom of those stairs was enough to turn my stomach five times over. They were stacked on top of each other. Piled like garbage in various states of decay.
Next to them was a pile of hair. No. Not hair. Entire scalps. Demon trophies. I let out a breath and sucked another in, holding it. I was a monster in every sense of the word, but this… I backed away slowly, unable to tear my eyes from the gruesome sight. Even my own demon, who was usually excited by the sight and smell of death, was quiet.
I started backing toward the staircase, eager to get out into the fresh air, but something on the table in the corner caught my eye. A small bracelet. It was a tiny red-and-black dream catcher attached to a double black leather band. There were two small charms. Leaves.
I remembered the first time I’d seen it. I was fourteen and at the county fair. The woman at the booth explained how dream catchers were believed to siphon the bad dreams away. It’d been the perfect gift for Sam.
She’d been wearing it the night I left town. When I arrived home a few days ago, I noticed its absence, but simply assumed Sam removed it when I never came home. But obviously I’d been wrong. She must have been wearing it the night she was attacked on the Huntington campus.
I’d missed it. The attacker on campus had been a demon. But why? It made no sense. What could demons possibly want with Sam?
Chapter Twelve
Sam
Pacing. A nervous habit that drove Aunt Kelly nuts, I couldn’t stop doing it. From the kitchen to the front door. Front door to bedroom. Bedroom back to kitchen again. Pretty soon there would be a rut in the floor a mile deep. I’d tried Jax’s cell phone five times since Chase dropped me off but there was no answer. It was almost 6:00 a.m.
The weight of what had happened last night—or, what almost happened—was starting to settle, and if I stopped moving, I was sure I’d go into shock. It made sense to think the person who attacked me would want to silence me if he thought there was a chance I saw his face. Had he dragged in a friend to help?
I stopped in the middle of the living room and let out a scream of frustration. Childish? Sure. But it helped. At least, a little.
Grabbing my coat, I headed toward the door. Pacing the room wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I needed to find out who this wacko was. Maybe one of the security cameras at the club had gotten the license plate of the car by the Dumpster. Or maybe someone had seen something funny while my car was parked out in front of McCarthy’s the other day. Big-girl boots on and laced, I reached for the door, determined to get some answers.
“Sammy,” Jax said as she threw it open.
“Holy crap!” I jumped back, startled. I was relieved to see him, thankful that he was here and in one piece. Not that I let that show. “Oh my God. Skulking on the other side of my door? A little freaky don’t you think? Even for you…”
He pushed past without waiting for an invitation. “I don’t skulk.” Turning, he winked. I hated it, but despite the fact that it’d been the night from hell, the quirk of his lip and curve of his cheek sent my heartbeat racing. “I loom. Much sexier, don’t ya think?”
I closed the door and backed into the living room. “You also jump from cliffs.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. I was going to get to the bottom of it, but I’d planned on using a bit more tact than that. Grilling him for answers was the best way to get none.
His expression darkened and he drew himself up, a hulking, broad-shouldered figure looming against the pale violet walls of the apartment. Beautiful and dangerous. Along with cocky, and arrogant…
“Jump from cliffs? You sure you didn’t slip in a drink or three back at that club?”
I had done a few shots—my main excuse for asking for that kiss—but I was stone-cold sober by the time we ended up over that cliff. “I had four shots between getting to work, being assaulted by your tongue, and getting heaved over the cliff.”
He stepped closer, right eyebrow rising slightly above the left. Just like when we were younger, the expression never failed to send a spike of fire shooting through my veins. “Assaulted by my tongue? As I remember it, you asked for it…” Straightening, he added, “You went over the side and were lucky enough to end up in the water instead of smeared across the rocks. I made it down to the bank and pulled you out. End of story.”
“I—you—that is not what happened!” I yanked off the jacket and pushed forward, jabbing a finger at his chest and refusing to be sidetracked by the ripple of muscle on the other side of the fabric. Muscles that were so close… Flattening my hand, I savored the feeling beneath my palm. His heartbeat thumped. A steady rhythm that seemed to be increasing—much like my own. The urge to slip my fingers beneath the material and revel in his warmth was like an itch I needed to scratch. My breath caught. Butterflies roared to life in the pit of my stomach, and even though there were more important things to focus on right now, my limbs just wouldn’t respond. “I know what I saw.”
That whole refusing-to-be-sidetracked part didn’t work out so well. “What you saw?” He pushed against my hand. “Tell me, what did you see?”
Heat rushed to my cheeks and I knew damn well I was as red as holly berries. I swallowed. “I saw—”
He leaned to whisper in my ear. “Seesaw. That’s what you’re doing here, Sammy.” The tip of his nose brushed against the edge of my ear and I bit down on my tongue to keep from gasping. Tiny licks of flame fanned to life in my belly and drifted lower, refusing to be pushed aside. “Your mouth is saying one thing, but those pretty eyes are screaming something else.”
I knew him too well not to know what was going on. When he didn’t want to talk about something, he’d do whatever was necessary to derail the conversation. I turned away. There was a lump forming in my throat, and when I tried to speak, the words came out soft and cracked. I needed distance. “Back away, please.”
His lips were still at my ear, breath like the heat rising from a sultry summer sidewalk to
melt my brain. “Are you sure?”
No. “Yes,” I said, before the heat between us tripped me up. I sucked in a deep breath and gently pushed him farther away, determined to get the conversation, and my mind, back on track. There was something I needed to get out. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“You saved my life, Jax.”
His grin faded, lips twisting into a cruel smirk. He advanced, causing me to back away. “You wanna make me out to be some kind of hero. Trust me, Sammy. That’s not what I am.”
Why couldn’t he just accept my damn gratitude? “You’re—”
He kept coming. With each step, his voice grew darker. “You’re wrong. About what you think you saw—and about what you think I am.” A laugh. Not a giddy, happy sound, but something broken and pained. “I’m a thing. A bastard. I don’t care about anything.”
I stopped backing away and stood my ground, pinning him with my best I-call-bullshit stare. “You’re lying.”
He shook his head. “I’m not. Yeah, I pulled you out of the water. But I did it for my own selfish reasons.”
“Really?” I forced out a laugh and folded my arms. His words were designed with a single purpose. To make me angry. To make me hate him. Sidetracking me hadn’t worked, so now he’d moved on to pissing me off. When the world pushed too close, he pushed back. It was just what he did. “And what selfish reasons would those be?”
He closed the distance between us and leaned in close, breath puffing out across my cheek. For the longest moment he stayed there refusing to move or speak. Just…watching. I’d seen it a thousand times before. When he was on the verge of losing his temper, or when he was trying to keep his emotions in check to keep the world where it belonged—on the outside.
I used to be the one person who had the ability to crack his shell. The one person he’d let see beyond the broken casing and into his mind. Bu
t not this time. This time he kept me out, clinging to his cruel mask, giving me nothing.
When he moved, he brought his lips to my ear and whispered, “I saw an opportunity. I was hoping you’d be thankful I dragged you from the river.” He pulled away and ran a hand up my bare arm, lingering at my collarbone. With a single finger, he traced the line all the way around to the curve of my breast, letting it still for a moment at the cleft of my cleavage. “Maybe offer a proper thank-you. We never did get the chance to give each other a test drive when we were younger. Not too late.”
The words fell from his mouth and oozed into the air, turning to vile poison as they drifted to my ears. I opened my mouth, then closed it, horrified. I had nothing, so I slapped him.
The sound was like a rocket in the silence of the room, and when I looked in his eyes, there was a twinge of justification. Shit. I’d reacted exactly how he’d wanted me to. Exactly how he would have expected anyone else to.
Jax leaned in again. “Come on, I look just like your boyfriend. How much of a stretch would it be? One good fuck and I’ll be able to put you and this whole place behind me. Who knows—you might actually like it. Or is that what you’re afraid of?”
Every syllable dripped venom. Too much venom. Jax had anger issues. Authority issues. He had issues with his issues. But one thing he wasn’t, no matter how hard he tried to convince me—and everyone else around us—was cruel.
I’d seen it too many times. Tiny glimpses of who he really was. When he thought no one else was watching. I’d never deny that Jax Flynn had a dark streak that rivaled the starless night sky, but he also had a bright streak. One I’d been witness to on many occasions.
It took several tries, but I finally managed to find my voice. I was angry at him for leaving. That would always hurt. But it was plain to see he was in pain. Lashing out to push me away. “He’s not my—”
A knock on the front door stopped me midsentence.
I tried to slip out from between Jax and the wall, but he grabbed my arm. The expression on his face was a mix of anger and desire that gave me both chills and goose bumps. “Don’t. We need to finish this.”
I didn’t understand what he meant and wasn’t sure I wanted to know. The knock came again, this time more urgent. “I don’t know what happened to you while you were gone, Jax, or why you want so badly for me to hate you, but I don’t. And I won’t. No matter what you say, and how hard you try to make me believe you’re the bastard of the century. I am, however, going to see who’s at the door.”
“No,” he growled, tightening his grip. “You’re not.” His fingers twitched, and he inhaled deeply, eyes growing wide.
I was about to suggest he shove the bossy crap up his ass sideways, but splinters of wood exploded inward, showering the entire room in debris. Jax yelled—I couldn’t quite make it out—right as a dark blur of a thing knocked me sideways. The entire world spun, and I landed hard on the floor in front of the couch. I scrambled to my feet a second before Jax launched himself at the intruder.
The man, completely bald with an athletic build and dark sunglasses, laughed as Jax’s fist connected with the side of his head. They tumbled to the floor, trading blows in a flurry of grunts and snarls. In the mayhem of it all, the man’s glasses were knocked from his face and I found myself rooted in place. Black. His eyes were black. The room began to spin.
“Get—out, Sammy,” Jax growled, pulling me from the haze and gaining the upper hand against the intruder. He rolled his weight on top of the other man, fingers wrapping tight around his throat. It looked like he had it under control—until Black Eyes bucked once and threw Jax off balance. He teetered, but recovered quickly and jumped with stunning grace to his feet.
It was like watching a perfectly choreographed scene. Deadly, but beautiful. They traded blows, each ducking and twisting with the elegance of an experienced dancer. I wanted to run, but found it hard to tear my eyes away from it all.
The man with the black eyes threw a powerful right hook. Jax dodged it with time to spare, but in the process, backed up too far. His heel caught on her laundry basket, and gravity sent him to the ground.
He tried to jump to his feet, but Black Eyes was too fast, shoe coming down hard in the center of Jax’s chest. The crunch the impact made chilled me to the core.
Laughing, the man kicked out again, this time at Jax’s head. I flinched as his head rocked to the right, eyes rolling back, and then fluttering closed. “Pathetic. The Son of Cain falls so easily.” The man bent closer, hand poised to deliver what I feared was the final blow.
“No!” I screamed.
A second later, those freaky black-as-night peepers were glaring at me.
“Shit!”
Jax was conscious and trying to move, but he didn’t get more than a few feet before falling back to the floor again, sputtering to catch his breath.
“Pretty little thing,” the man drawled as he cornered me. His voice rasped like a lifetime smoker with an odd gravelly twang. There was something so familiar about him. Not the man specifically, but his voice. The eyes… I’d seen them before—and not at the bottom of the cliff when I thought Jax’s eyes looked strange. Another time. Something else… “I can’t kill him, but I’ll enjoy feasting on your bones.”
“I have some ribs in the freezer. I bet you’d like munching those bones a hell of a lot more than mine.” I babbled, inching away as panic threatened to overtake me. The blood rushed in my ears as my heart drummed in my chest. Heart attack. I was going to have a heart attack.
Unwanted memories of the night my parents were murdered pushed their way to the surface despite my most valiant efforts to tamp them down. An almost inhuman voice. Strange inky eyes. Everything was jumbled, pictures popping in and out of my mind in random order.
I’d seen the whole thing. Watched from a louvered closet door. The man who broke into their home murdered my father first, then tortured and killed my mother. I was too small at the time—too young—to do anything.
The man snarled, drops of foamy white spittle flying from his lips as he crouched down, readying to attack.
I dropped to my knees as he charged, ducking behind the small DVD case I’d found at a garage sale a few weeks ago. He crashed into the case, scattering the discs in every direction. I stumbled to my feet, grabbed a handful, and started chucking them at his head. Not the most badass weapon in an arsenal, but improvising was a way of life.
The man batted them away, cackling. “Your fear is delectable. I wonder,” he whispered, pushing forward as he diverted the last DVD-turned-missile. Hot, fetid air puffed across my face and I did my best not to gag. “What can I do to turn your fear into terror?”
I gasped and tried to pull away, but he was too strong. Screwing up the last reserves of courage, I asked, “What the hell are you?”
He leaned closer and with a grin I’d never, ever forget, said, “I’m a thing of nightmares.”
Not happening. This was not happening. Another nightmare.
That was the answer. I was trapped in a nightmare. How else could I explain the fact that history was about to repeat itself? I’d escaped my parents’ fatal home invasion only to go down in one of my own. That was cruel, even by fate’s standards.
The man chuckled, obviously thrilled by my response, and leaned in for what I assumed would be the kill, but something stopped him.
“Back away.”
His eyes widened and he turned slowly toward the sound of a new voice. Behind us, Jax had climbed to his feet.
He didn’t appear to be in distress over his injuries any longer. Standing tall, he approached slowly, stiff and angry. His eyes now matched the man’s—the color of night—and his voice was much deeper than it should have been. More like how it had sounded at the bottom of the cliff. His lips peeled into a smile fit for a madman. Dangerous and unhinged. “Now.”
The intruder backed away. “Son of Cain—”
“My name is Azirak.” A low, primal growl followed, and I backed
away as well. He turned, and to me said, “Samantha Merrick.” And that was it. Nothing less. Nothing more.
Jax—or Azirak—refocused on the enemy, and took a step closer. The bald guy, who a minute ago was ready to kill me, was now on the verge of pissing himself. He backed away, then snapped his teeth twice in Jax’s—Azirak’s—direction. A strange language spilled from his lips. When he finished, he turned to me with a wicked grin and said, “I’ll see you again, pretty thing.”
The window behind us exploded as he crashed through.
Chapter Thirteen
Jax
Until I knew exactly why these demons wanted Sam dead, and how much they knew about her, staying at her apartment wasn’t an option. I’d brought us to the hourly motel by the highway on the outer edge of town.
I shifted, twisting my body toward the door. I hated being here with her right now. So soon after reclaiming control from the demon. From Azirak… The thing inside had a name. Funny, how all this time I’d never given it any thought.
After I fell, it had forced its way into the driver’s seat to deal with the other demon. When the bastard fled, to my surprise, the demon—Azirak—willingly relinquished its hold, but it still squirmed, hungry and desperate for violence.
Too bad. Feeding wasn’t an option just yet. I needed to help Sam. My priority was keeping her safe and getting to the bottom of this mess. Demons. For some reason, demons were hunting her. Demons that knew what I was. More specifically, who I was.
We’d been in the motel room almost an hour and she still hadn’t said a word. She sat in the chair by the door, tense and watching me as though any moment I’d sprout a tail and horns. Thick gray tendrils rising to mingle with black—confusion—was the only evidence I needed. She was in shock.
The silence tore at me. If she was going to scream or cry, or cast me off as the disgusting thing that I was, it needed to be now. “Say something, Sammy. Please.”
“Something,” she mumbled absently, fiddling with the hem of her shirt without looking away.