Demon's Daughter (Demon Outlaws)

by Paula Altenburg

  He was missing something.

  During their allotted breaks, he and Blade sat together. Blade polished his knives with sand to remove the demon blood. Hunter did not dare ask him about his leg, but for his friend’s sake he was not sorry.

  They did, however, speak of Airie.

  “The Demon Lord wants her alive,” Hunter said. “Even if she’s spawn, I couldn’t turn any woman over to demons.”

  “Have you touched her?” Blade asked. Hunter shot him a dark look. “I don’t mean in that way.” He paused, reconsidering his question. “You haven’t, have you?”

  “No,” Hunter said. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  Blade frowned as he worked. Each cleaned knife vanished into his clothing.

  “She healed my leg,” he finally admitted. “I felt nothing but good in her when she did.”

  “What do you suppose the women who bore spawn felt in their demon lovers?” Hunter asked. “She set a man’s boots on fire.”

  “His boots. Not him. And the man tried to kill you, did he not?”

  “He did.” Hunter traced a figure in the ground between his bent knees with a small rock. “I want to believe the best of her. But she’s half demon. That won’t change. No one who knows it will ever accept her.”

  It was unlikely the Godseekers would welcome her as a goddess now. She could not return to the mountain, nor stay in Freetown. He was left with few options with regard to her safety.

  Hunter had considered himself a loner for many years now. An outsider. And yet, he had places he could go if he chose. Even family, if he needed them. What would it be like to be in Airie’s position—alone, unwelcome, and feared by all?

  Little wonder Scratch had become so important to her. He adored and trusted her.

  The dissonant howl of frustrated demons echoed off the canyon walls. The enslaved women huddled closer, no doubt afraid that one of them might yet be chosen as a peace offering, but despite the unnerving noise, Hunter knew the wagoners were holding their own. A few more hours and the ordeal would be over for another night.

  “Are you afraid of her?” he asked Blade, his thoughts again returning to Airie.

  “I wouldn’t have left her unguarded in my home if I believed she was a threat to anyone.” He looked at Hunter. “Are you? Afraid of her?”

  Hunter could not shake the Demon Lord’s words from his head. “I’m afraid for her.”

  Blade slipped the last of his knives back into his clothing. “Then you, my friend, have a problem.”

  He did indeed. Airie terrified him, although not on a physical level. His fear of her went much deeper than that. He thought of her constantly. He dreamed of her. His compulsion to be with her, to protect her, was great, and Hunter was not a man given to impulse. She had a beautiful smile and a kind heart.

  But how much of his attraction to Airie was because of her, and her innocence, and how much was because she was demon?

  That was the true source of any fear of her he had.

  “Do you find her attractive?” Hunter asked Blade abruptly.

  His friend froze, the sidelong look he sent Hunter filled with speculation. “Will an honest answer get me killed?”

  “No. Possibly,” Hunter conceded, correcting himself. He could not be sure, and he wished he had not asked the question.

  “I can resist her. I’m not as certain the same can be said for you.” Blade stood, ready to take another turn with a bow and arrow. He tested his leg as if still not quite trusting its soundness. “Do the world a favor,” he advised. “If you want her, then act on it. Don’t think so hard about the reason for it. And don’t tempt other men by asking such questions. Not unless you’re willing to lose her to them.”

  The thought he’d had earlier returned. He could claim her as his. She fit well in his arms and went into them willingly. She trusted him. When he considered it in greater depth, who better to protect the world from a spawn than the Demon Slayer?

  But a small, ugly part of him could not forget that he would be making a spawn a permanent part of his life.

  He returned to his position at the mouth of the canyon, aimed a flaming arrow at a shadow above, and released it. A scream rang out in reward. The demon he struck reared back, wings beating hard, its feet scrabbling at air, although it did not fall from the sky. Hunter watched it break rank and fly off, an arrow protruding from beneath its ribs.

  Now that his mind was made up, he could not wait for this night to be over.

  Airie awaited him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  She sat by the window all night, watching the sky, with Scratch on her lap. When he fell asleep, she moved him to the bed, then returned to the bench in the window well.

  She knew the instant Hunter returned.

  She heard him enter through the courtyard and the back door, but he did not immediately come upstairs. Low voices rumbled in the kitchen two floors below, although not loud enough for her to distinguish what was being said. Something heavy scraped across the tiles.

  The wait was agony. What if he was hurt? What if he needed her?

  Then, he stood in the doorway.

  Airie flew across the room and into his arms, the too-short nightdress she had found in the wardrobe tangling around her shins. Relieved beyond measure that he was safe and in one piece, she rained kisses along the lean lines of his fresh-shaven jaw.

  That was what she had heard in the kitchen downstairs. The washtub. He’d stopped to clean off the violence of the night.

  Ruby appeared behind him, her fiery hair loose around her shoulders, wearing a thin cotton robe over her own nightdress. Her slipper-clad feet made very little sound as she eased past Hunter into the room. She gathered a sleepy Scratch into her arms and returned to the door.

  “You’ll both sleep better if you don’t have a little boy under your feet,” Ruby said, a slight smile on her lips. “I’ll take care of him.”

  “Let them go,” Hunter said when Airie tried to protest.

  Something unsettling in his eyes as he looked at her made her obey. It did not frighten her. But it made her cautious.

  The door closed behind Ruby, the soft snick of the latch echoing loudly in the sparsely furnished room.

  “What’s wrong?” Airie asked him.

  “Well-timed rain showers. Godseekers shouting about the return of a goddess. Miracles.” He traced a finger along her cheek, then brushed her lips with his thumb. “Forget I said anything. They’re not important.”

  But she could see they were important to him.

  “I told you that the goddesses hear me when I call to them. That I spoke with one,” Airie reminded him, her tone soft. “I told you the rain chased the demons away.”

  “You told me, but I wasn’t listening to your meaning,” Hunter said. “I’ve heard it now.”

  He was speaking in riddles. She pulled away from him. “Then you can explain it to me because I don’t know what it is you think you’ve heard me say other than that the goddesses bring rain.”

  He would not let her withdraw, capturing her hand. “Please, Airie,” he implored her, tiredness apparent in his whole manner. It blanketed his features and shadowed his eyes. “I need you near me. Innocence is such a rare thing in this world.”

  A few short days ago he had called her spawn. While she disliked that he thought of her as such, she did not care for him thinking her innocent either.

  And yet she knew she was both.

  Perhaps it was the demon in her that made her more daring. It had been a long, frightening night of worry, and she was glad to touch him. If it was her innocence he wanted, he could have it. She had no real interest in preserving it.

  Not where Hunter was concerned.

  She pressed against him, her hands on his chest, and lifted her lips to his. Heat shot to her apex on contact, sparking into flames that spread through her body until fire consumed her. She made a soft sound of pleasure.

  The effect on him was like setting a struck mat
ch to dry kindling. His tongue thrust between her lips, boldly stroking the insides of her mouth.

  She met his tongue with the tip of her own. He tasted warm and sweet, and Airie wanted more of him. Tangling her hands in his shirt, she fumbled with the buttons. His hands covered hers, helping her, then the shirt dropped to the floor.

  The pads of his fingers caressed her bare flesh at the open neck of the wide-collared nightdress she wore. He inched the smooth fabric off her shoulders, then hesitated. He broke off the kiss.

  “I need you to understand what we are doing,” he said to her, his breathing unsteady as he struggled to speak. He closed his eyes, then opened them again to meet hers. His thumbs swiped across her collarbone so that she had difficulty focusing on his words. “If we go much further, I won’t stop.”

  “I don’t want you to,” she said. “I’m not stopping either.”

  He dropped a kiss to her forehead, and suddenly, she wanted him. All of him. She wanted him in her, as close as they could possibly become. She shrugged out of the nightdress. It slipped from her shoulders to pool at her feet. She stepped out of it, then kicked it aside.

  Hunter cupped her face, tipping her head back so that she met his gaze. His eyes were blue and very intense, and any concern she might have had as to whether or not he found her attractive solely because of her demon blood vanished.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said to her, with just enough wonder in his tone to stoke the fires of desire. She’d never thought of herself as such, had never had a reason to think about it, but he made her feel as if it were an indisputable fact.

  She liked that he thought of her that way.

  One of his palms slid down her arm to her waist. His fingers trailed across her bare hip, then he tugged her against him. Again, he kissed her. Slower this time, deeper, and so thoroughly she lost all sense of their shifting surroundings.

  He had drawn her to the bed. Soft morning light enveloped them as he pressed her into the rough blankets, the springs of the mattress groaning beneath their combined weight. He shrugged out of his trousers, sliding them off his muscular thighs and casting them aside.

  She had never seen a naked man before, although she’d been told what to expect.

  He lay down beside her and propped his head on his elbow, looking at her with understanding. “Go ahead and touch me,” he invited her. “Wherever you’d like.” Desire darkened his eyes. “If you’re not ready for that, close your eyes and I can touch you.”

  “I’m ready.” She smiled at him.

  Teasing the arch of her foot along one of his calves, she enjoyed the texture of his skin. Her hand went to his hip, then the tips of her fingers traced the curve of his buttocks. The amused expression on his face disappeared.

  He bent his head forward and placed a kiss on her neck. The next kiss feathered her breast. Then he drew the rosy bud of her nipple into his mouth, tracing the tip with his tongue, and she gasped with pleasure.

  She touched the hard planes of his stomach and he sucked in a breath. She drew her hand away, uncertain of what his reaction meant, but he caught it.

  “You surprised me, is all,” he said. “Surprises are good.” She ran her hand lower, felt tufts of curls, and encircled him with her palm. He let out a low groan. “Very good.” He kissed her mouth, his tongue tracing her lips. “And very surprising.”

  He reached between them and wrapped his fingers over hers, showing her how to move her hand. She loved the sounds he made as she did so, his eyes closing in deep concentration as she found a rhythm that pleased him.

  He released her hand and moved his own to the mound between her thighs. He inserted a finger, stroking her gently to the same cadence she caressed him, and she cried out in amazement.

  “I told you surprises are good,” he said, sensual satisfaction curving his lips as he watched her face.

  She could no longer speak, lost in the sensations he’d created, arching her back to press against him and force his touch deeper inside her. He shifted his hips so that she could no longer hold him in her hand. He leaned over her, guiding the tip to her opening.

  “I’m sorry, Airie,” he said. “This often hurts the first time.” He slid his entire length inside her in one thrust, then lay still, holding his weight on his arms until she could breathe again. “Give it a moment. You’ll get used to the feel.”

  He distracted her with silly words, mixing them with tender kisses. His tongue again found her mouth, thrusting in and out, until suddenly, she realized he’d started to move inside her as well.

  Any pain was forgotten, replaced by an indescribable pleasure. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he established a slow, deep tempo that gradually built. Within moments she was writhing beneath him, begging him for more, to make it faster.

  “Airie, honey, if I do that, it will be over too soon for you.” Pleasure and regret mingled in his eyes as he gazed down at her.

  “I don’t care,” she gasped, the slow build of an impending climax clenching her muscles around the hard length of him. Color exploded behind her eyes and she cried out, wrapping her legs around him. He gave in to her demands, thrusting harder and deeper, and groaned as he came, although Airie barely heard him past the waves of pleasure engulfing her.

  Hunter did not withdraw afterward, but anchored his weight so that he did not crush her and watched with an air of intense satisfaction while she recovered. He traced the curve of her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

  “The first time is the worst,” he said.

  Airie caught his hand in both of hers. She pressed his fingers to her lips. “If that was the worst, then I don’t dare dream about how wonderful the next time will be.” He frowned, and some of her pleasure dimmed, replaced by uncertainty. “That was presumptuous of me,” she said. “I enjoyed it so much that I assumed you did, too. You don’t have to do it again if you don’t want.” She tried to push away from him.

  “Stop.” He pinned her down and kissed her until she went quiet beneath him. “I’m flattered beyond belief that you enjoyed it. Believe me, I did too, every bit as much, if not more. I’ll be able to think of nothing else now until the next time, which may be far too soon for you.

  “But did you know,” he added, continuing to frown, “that your eyes are on fire?”

  …

  The fire in her eyes quickly cooled.

  He had made a mistake, he saw at once, both in what he had said, but more importantly, what he had done. Claiming her had not diminished her appeal. In fact, the opposite was true.

  The shift was not subtle. Sensuality seeped from her, her bare skin gleaming like brushed gold beneath the spray of morning sunshine on the rumpled bed. Gone was the innocent beauty, replaced by a glowing, well-satisfied woman who was too desirable by far.

  He could not say he fully regretted it. He wanted her again. And he wanted her far from demon territory, where she would be safe. But first he had to explain because she had misinterpreted his words.

  “Your eyes are beautiful. I like that I can make them flame.” He said the last with more satisfaction than he had intended to reveal, but it achieved the desired effect.

  Her smile returned, more radiant. “For the most part I can control it. But you make me forget.”

  She made him forget things, too. Important ones. At their first meeting, her eyes had shot fire when he’d thrown her in the lake. They had also flamed when she confronted the Godseekers.

  Which brought him back to the matter of his second mistake. He had awakened a level of sensuality in her that could only be attributed to her demon blood. The effect was magnetic and did not appear to be lessening with the passing moments. Regardless of where she eventually settled, her mixed heritage would never go unnoticed. Not by men, and most assuredly not by demons.

  But better for her to be noticed by mortal men, whom she could defend herself against, than by demons, whom perhaps she could not.

  Absently, he stroked her neck and shoulder while he thought matters thr
ough. His fingers brushed against the amulet she wore, and his own warmed pleasantly in response. The two fit together. He wondered if they magnified his and Airie’s reactions to each other.

  Natural or not, whatever the source of his attraction to her, he had already made the decision that she was his. He’d convinced himself that he would be protecting mortals from her. In reality, Airie was the one who needed protection the most.

  He had to get her away from demon territory and that part of her heritage. He would take her to the Borderlands, to his childhood home. It would not be far enough—a demon had managed to find his sister there—but it would be a start. He was tired of fighting demons. His sister was dead and nothing would bring her back, while Airie was alive and he had the ability to keep her that way.

  He no longer cared who had fathered her. She had been raised well. Her tendency toward petty thievery aside, she was open and honest. She had empathy for others. He liked those qualities in her, and they had nothing to do with sexual attraction, although that, too, was high.

  “We’re leaving tomorrow,” he announced. “You, Scratch, and me. As long as we stay here, you’re in danger.”

  She had started to drift off to sleep. Her eyes, now their natural dark, chocolate brown, fluttered open. “What do you mean?”

  He did not want to explain. He twisted a lock of her hair around one finger, rubbing it with his thumb. “You asked me what I was doing on the goddesses’ mountain.”

  She sighed and rolled to her back, dragging the sheet with her to cover her breasts. His hands ached to hold her.

  “I don’t want to know,” she said, staring at the ceiling.

  All the more reason to tell her. Guilt consumed him. “I was hired by a priestess to bring you to her. She intends to turn you over to the Demon Lord.”

  Airie tilted her head, her soft exhalation of breath heating his skin. “And you agreed to do it because I am spawn.”

  Her calm understanding cut him, almost as much as her use of the slur. It sounded ugly coming so casually from her lips. How many times had he wounded her by using it himself in the same manner?