by Nadine Mutas
As if on cue, Lily entered the kitchen. He could see her clearly through the huge French doors, and his heart did its usual flip at the sight of her. She walked past her twin brother and opened the fridge. He frowned. Was that blood on her forehead? Had she been injured? He shifted against the tree, his hand balling into a fist.
Lily and her brother talked a little, and then Basil started making a sandwich, from the looks of it. Lily’s stance changed. Subtle, and he wouldn’t have noticed if his senses weren’t so attuned to her every move. A prickling sensation swept over his skin, raising the hairs on his arms and neck. Even from this distance, he could make out Lily’s eyes—and how they blazed with red.
What the hell was—?
Lily charged. She was on top of Basil a split second later, toppling him to the ground. Basil flailed, trying to dislodge Lily’s hands from his throat, his face a mask of panic.
Alek stalked as close to the perimeter of the wards as he dared. The air buzzed with the magical protection, pushing against him. Pulse racing, he stared at the scene in the kitchen.
This wasn’t one of the good-natured sparring sessions between Lily and her brother. Gods knew they went at it often enough, but they were always grinning, cracking jokes, clearly not out to do real damage.
Unlike now. The amount of strength and pressure Lily was putting into the choke—she was killing Basil. Her brother.
Shit. As sentinel, his orders were straightforward. Watch Maeve MacKenna—currently living at the Murrays’—and don’t interfere unless Maeve’s life was in danger. Arawn wanted Maeve alive for him to claim at a time of his choosing, but he couldn’t care less if the Murrays slaughtered each other in the meantime.
But Alek cared. Whatever was driving Lily to this kind of violence, it wasn’t normal, it wasn’t good, and when Lily snapped out of it, the fact she’d killed her brother would haunt her forever. He couldn’t let that happen.
Before he could second-guess his decision, he grabbed a fist-sized stone from the ground and hurled it at the French doors to the kitchen. His missile hit a terracotta flower pot and shattered it. The crashing noise startled Lily, and she apparently snapped out of whatever was riding her. Or at least found enough presence of mind again to realize to some extent what she’d been doing, if her panicked scrambling away from Basil was any indication.
She jerked up her head, looked toward the door leading from the kitchen into the house, and the next second she barged out of the French doors into the backyard. A moment later the Elder witch, Hazel, head of the Murray family, entered the kitchen. Ah, so Lily was running from her mother.
While Hazel rushed to Basil’s side, tending to him, Lily kept fleeing through the backyard—straight toward the spot at the end of the property where Alek stood, pressed as closely up against the wards as he could manage without being fried magically. Heart pounding a million miles a minute, he could only stare while Lily raced closer. He should move. Arawn’s spell would hide him from her, sure, but he should step aside anyway, let her pass. But his muscles were locked, his brain unable to give the command to shift out of the way.
And then Lily scaled the fence—her movements so graceful, sleek, and elegant like a gymnast’s, it transfixed him where he stood—and the next thing he knew she stumbled right into him. He grabbed her reflexively, steadying her with his hands on her upper arms, and the heat of her skin a branding caress. Her scent crashed into him, so much stronger than when he’d been close to her earlier. It was a mix of the heavy fragrance of some exotic flower and the aroma of rain-soaked earth. He inhaled a deep lungful without thinking and got lost in it, his head spinning.
Lily’s wiggling yanked him back into the real world. He grunted at the punches and kicks she landed—she sure as hell knew how to fight, and had enough strength to back it up. He had to get to her to calm down, though, before she did some real damage, either to him or herself. And he couldn’t let her run, not in her current state of panic, without making sure she’d be okay.
“Stop,” he said, and it came out growlier than he intended.
Lily shivered and stilled for a second. Just when he thought she’d come out of her panic, she bit his arm. Hard.
“Fucking hell, woman.” He ground his teeth and couldn’t help loosening his grip a little.
Enough for Lily to twist out of his hold. Dammit. She’d run three steps before his fuse blew. He tackled her, making sure to turn them both sideways so he wouldn’t crush her.
“Umpf,” Lily wheezed—and went right back to fighting him tooth and nail to get away.
He turned her around so her back was on the ground, straddled her to keep her in place. When her eyes, swirling red and black, met his, startling him with an impossible implication, she stopped struggling. Her lips parted on a soft inhale, her features gentling, an echo of her reaction when he met her head-on in the street after he fed from the morbus. And damn if it didn’t have the same effect on him. His heartbeat hammered in his ears, his stomach did that annoying flip, and his blood heated and rushed unerringly south.
Get a grip. Neither the right place nor the right time to be thinking along those lines. There was something more pressing than his unrequited attraction, something that corroborated the theory her changing eye color had sparked. Her strapless dress exposed her upper arms, shoulders, and top cleavage, and what was appearing on that smooth-looking skin was straight-up unbelievable. Swirling henna-colored lines and dots, forming graceful symbols, gradually emerged like a tan setting in.
Lily was developing a razvitiye.
She caught herself while he was still reeling and resumed her struggle. He barely moved fast enough to avoid her punch. Grabbing both her wrists, he pinned her arms next to her head.
“Stop,” he ground out. “I don’t want to harm you, but if you don’t stop fighting me, I may hurt you without meaning to.”
The red in her eyes blazed. “And I’m supposed to buy your ‘don’t mean you harm’ bullshit when your whole act is rape-y as hell?”
“What?”
“Seriously? Oh, well, sure, being tackled and then pinned to the ground by a strange male works out so well for most women.”
That made him do a mental double-take. He blinked, looked down at their position…and it hit him how that had to come across for her. Shit.
“I wasn’t going to—” He pressed his lips together, exhaled through his nose, and moved off her while keeping a hold on one of her wrists. “Just to get this straight—I have never forced myself on a female, and I’d rather hack off my hand than sexually assault you.”
“But you’re okay with wrestling me to the ground?” She tugged on her arm, trying to get him to release her.
He rose to his feet and pulled her up to standing as well, making sure not to loosen his grip on her wrist. “Let’s start over. My name is Alek, and I’m trying to help you.”
“Uh-huh. You know what would help?” She leaned in and loudly whispered. “Letting me go.”
Her words sounded light, almost flippant, and she did a good job of acting as if she was in control. The chaotic maelstrom of energy in her aura spoke a different language. Just underneath the surface of her projected calm roiled a clusterfuck of emotions. Not to mention her aura was decidedly not that of a witch anymore. His mind struggled with accepting the facts in front of him. This can’t be real.
And yet all his senses told him the same thing, pointed to only one conclusion. However much of an impossibility it was.
“I can’t let you run.” His voice was raspy, his brain rattled by what he was seeing.
“Right,” she shot back, her tone dripping acid. “Because you want to finish what your buddy started, don’t you?”
He frowned, stumped. “What?”
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re not in cahoots with that other life leech. You know, the one who shot me in the ass with a dart gun like I was fucking game during hunting season.” She spit the last part out through clenched teeth, her aura erupting into a wav
e of sparks.
Anger of his own fired through him. “You’ve been shot?”
“Like you didn’t know.”
“I didn’t,” he snarled, infuriated at the mere thought of someone hurting her. Then his brain caught up. “A dart gun?” His mind raced, connecting the dots.
“Well, whatever roofie drug your buddy put in that dart, he needs to check the recipe. It’s not working the way you guys intended, is it?”
He was too preoccupied with putting the pieces together to even get mad at her assumption he was involved. “What’d he look like?”
“Red and black eyes, psychotic expression…” She waved her free hand. “Just your run-of-the-mill life leech.”
He took a deep breath and battled down his irritation. “I’m not working with whoever attacked you.”
“Right. Then how about you let me go? I’m really trying to kick the habit of lurking behind my family’s backyard, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.” She tilted her head and smiled sweetly.
He swallowed. “Can’t.”
“Because you are working with him.”
He shook his head. “Because you’re turning into one of us, Lilichka.”
The shock that hit her was palpable in her aura, rippling out in waves of bone-deep cold. She blinked several times, her face a mask of indifference at complete odds with her energy pattern.
It took her multiple attempts to speak. “The fuck are you talking about?”
“You’re turning into a duhokrad demon. Like me.” He paused, hesitating over whether he should make that connection right now. Well, better to get it out there as well. “Like the one who shot you with that dart.”
She shook her head, first slowly, then faster, faster, until he was sure her brain would suffer some kind of damage from all that jerking. She stopped, laughter spilling from her. “Oh dear gods, you’re certifiably insane.” Holding her stomach with her free hand, she kept giggling.
Alek watched her for a moment. Denial sure wasn’t just a river in Egypt. She was trying so, so hard to laugh it off, but underneath the abrasive notes of derision in her voice pulsed a terror so great, so consuming, he felt the chill of it spreading to his own heart.
His thumb stroked over the thin, sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist. “You’ll have noticed your senses are heightened,” he said, his voice calm and soothing. “How’s your eyesight?”
Lily stopped laughing.
“See the world more sharply than before?”
She swallowed, her eyes skittering away from his.
“How ’bout your sense of smell? Notice how scents are much stronger than before?”
A muscle ticked in her jaw.
“You’ve got duhokrad eyes. They change to red and black when you’re pissed, hungry, or…” He trailed off.
Lily’s gaze focused on him. “Or?”
He couldn’t help the half-smile tugging on his lips. “Horny.”
She cocked a brow.
“Then there’s this.” He gestured at the light brown signs spreading over her cleavage, shoulders, and upper arms.
She shifted her stance into a more defensive position, not taking her eyes off him. “My female assets?”
“Your razvitiye.”
“There’s really no need to throw insults around.”
He bit back a smile. “It’s a kind of living tattoo-slash-birthmark. We are born with one symbol over our hearts, and then it grows from there, with more symbols appearing when you have significant life experiences. In a way, they’re a key to understanding what made you you. Every duhokrad demon has one.” He paused, taking a meaningful breath. “And now you have one, too.”
“You really are crazypants,” she whispered.
“See for yourself.” He waved at the razvitiye again.
She hesitated for a moment, then looked down her cleavage. With a harsh gasp, she tugged on the arm he was still holding, her other hand reflexively touching the skin now adorned with elegantly curving ancient symbols. He didn’t let go of her wrist, but stepped closer so she had more leeway to study the markings.
“Holy powers in a can, how far do these go?” Her aura exploded into a kaleidoscope of colors, graying out quickly with a shudder.
“It’s different for each duhokrad, but at your age, most likely they’ll reach down to your stomach and the middle of your back.”
She started scratching at the symbols with her free hand, her movements frenetic, her scent laced with acidic fear. Her claws sliced out, tearing thin red gashes in her skin.
“Don’t.” He caught her other hand as well, held it tight and away from her body to keep her from harming herself further.
At a rustle in the leaves to his right, he froze. Lily stilled as well, scanning the area, eyes swirling with fire-licked obsidian once more.
“My mom,” she whispered.
Alek whipped his head around, stared in the same direction as Lily. And sure enough, Hazel Murray was moving toward them through the dark. She was obviously trying to be stealthy, but a duhokrad demon would still be able to pick up on the subtle sounds she made.
Lily yanked on her hands, elbowed him in the side and tried to break free. “Let me go.” A hushed command, threaded with rising panic. “She can’t see me. Please, I need to leave. She can’t see me like this.”
“Hush.” He whirled her around, her back to his front, clasped her to him with one arm around her waist, and covered her mouth with his other hand. “Don’t make a sound, and she won’t see us.”
Lily’s heartbeat was so fast and loud it pounded in his ears. Panting through her nose, she grabbed the wrist of his hand covering her mouth, but didn’t pull it away. A buzz of electric energy zinged through him at her touch. Her body pressing into his like this, her toned curves nearly rubbing up against him, it sparked a rush of desire down to his groin.
He clamped his teeth together and directed his thoughts to granny panties and other unerotic images. Lily sure wouldn’t appreciate his erection poking her lush bottom right now.
Her panting stopped as she held her breath, her face turned toward her mother when Hazel stepped into the small clearing, almost close enough to touch. Alek’s breath stalled in his throat, too, his heart skipping a beat.
Magic crackled in the air. The force of the Elder witch’s power brushed up against his skin, like a thousand fine needles stinging. He tried to inhale, found it impossible. His chest seemed bound by tight ropes.
Hazel surveyed the clearing, her brows pulling together in a frown. When she looked straight at the spot where he and Lily stood in frozen fear, he thought that would be it. She’ll see us. And he had no doubt that if the Elder witch found him—a demon—basically holding her daughter in a death grip, he wouldn’t live another minute. Witches were notoriously unforgiving toward demons who snatched one of their own…
Hazel shifted her attention to another spot, and she moved past Alek and Lily without any sign she’d registered their presence.
Relief sucked all strength out of him, made his muscles quiver. He loosened his grip on Lily and stepped back a little, though he kept one hand around her wrist. Lily peered in the direction her mother had gone, waiting a few heartbeats.
Then she rounded on him. “What kind of dark demon magic was that?” she hissed, keeping her voice down. “Is that part of a life leech’s powers?”
“Duhokrad,” he corrected her.
“Dooho-what?”
“Duhokrad. It’s the name of my demon species.” He nodded at her. “Yours as well.”
She scoffed. “Sure. Tell me, when did you stop taking your medication?”
He decided to ignore that jab. “And for your information, that concealment spell isn’t one of our powers.” He jingled the necklace. “It’s a charm.”
Lily focused on the necklace, then glanced at his hold on her wrist. “And it concealed me as well, because you’re touching me.”
“That’s how it works.”
She pinned
him with a piercing look, suspicion evident in her furrowed brow. “How did you get that charm?”
Alek hesitated. How much should he tell her? Instinct and his experience over the past decade warned him to be careful with what information he revealed to her. Nominally, she was his enemy. Circumstances had changed, however, and things weren’t as clear-cut anymore. If he wanted her to trust him enough to let him help her, he needed to give her something in return.
“The charm is part of my job equipment,” he said. “I work for Arawn.”
Her aura flared, a wave of dark red lashing out. In her eyes, fire licked at the black.
Holding up his free hand in a gesture of appeasement, he added, “Calm down. I’m not here to hurt your family. My task is to keep an eye on Maeve MacKenna, make sure nothing happens to her.”
That apparently baffled her. She blinked, frowned. “You’ve been watching Maeve?”
“Yes. For a while now.” Time to get the conversation on track again. “When I saw you attack your brother tonight, it looked like you were about to kill him.”
Lily jerked, her expression shuttering, her energy pattern icing over.
“You were, weren’t you? Because you’re turning into a duhokrad demon, and you’re hungry and driven by instincts, and you snapped and lunged at him. If I hadn’t thrown that rock at the patio and startled you, you’d have either choked Basil to death or taken his duh.”
Her throat muscles worked underneath her silken skin as she swallowed hard. “Doohh?” She frowned at the pronunciation, pulled the vowel far too long and didn’t get the consonant at the end right—an almost hissed sound that should be the Russian letter x. “What’s that?”
“Literally it means ‘breath,’ but also ‘life force.’ That’s what we duhokrad demons feed off of.”
He stepped closer, his gaze holding hers. “Let me help you. I don’t know what caused this, but I can show you how to deal with being a demon. How to avoid randomly hurting people. I can teach you how to feed. And you’ll have to, soon.” He raised his free hand, tapped a symbol on her shoulder. “The color of your razvitiye is an indicator of how much duh you have left. It’s darkest when you’ve just fed, and gets lighter the more life force you lose. When it fades until it’s nearly the same color as your skin, you die.” He stroked her wrist again, in small, soothing circles. “Your razvitiye is very light. You’re burning energy by the second, just by going through the transformation. You’ll need to feed tonight.”