“And hasn’t it occurred to you that people might have a reason for it? Not everything is clear cut. Not everything can be broken down into a simple who, what, where, when, why and how.”
She gave him a bored stare. “I didn’t realize you had aspirations of being such a hard-hitting journalist.”
“Hearing the truth and accepting it are two very different things.”
“How can I accept anything when I’m being kept in the dark? The way you moved that night, the way you fought. I saw you…I saw you kill a man.”
“Vanquish,” he corrected.
Blair laughed, the sound halfway to hysterical. “Is that some secret agent slang for severing a man’s head?”
“It wasn’t a man.”
“Okay,” she said slowly. “By that do you mean that he was a cold-blooded killer—”
“As in not human.” There. He’d said it. And this so wasn’t his territory. “You really need to talk to your brother.”
She crossed her arms, her expression bordering on incredulous. “You think if Braxton were to tell me that the man who attacked me wasn’t human it would be any easier to believe?”
“Maybe. You know your brother better than me. You trust him.”
“Given the last forty-eight hours that’s debatable. You saved my life, Drew. I was starting to think I could trust you.”
He met her gaze. “You can,” he promised.
“History of mental illness?”
“No.”
“Delusions? Paranoid behavior? Overactive imagination?”
He didn’t bother to respond. People could read about things that went bump in the night, could line up to see movies about all things creepy and hellish, but when faced with the possibility those things might be more than the creation of someone’s imagination…
Times like this he was damn grateful his skills gave him the ability to be on the frontlines. Debriefing people who’d been attacked or initiated by a Shadow Demon would not have been his first career choice.
“So if it wasn’t a man, what was it, a vampire?” Her tone dared him to agree with it.
“Why does everyone always assume if there is something nasty and evil skulking around that it must be a vampire?”
“Not a vampire then?”
“No.”
“Werewolf?”
He snorted and turned down her street.
“Body snatcher?”
Drew swallowed the sigh sitting high in his throat. “Demon. Shadow Demon if you want to be accurate.”
She stared at him unblinking. “And you and my brother are…”
He lucked out and found an empty spot near the front of her building, sliding the Jeep into the parking space. He turned in his seat to face her. “Demon slayers.”
“Of course.” She said it like they were in actual agreement. The faintly panicked look in her eye wasn’t so reassuring.
The rain had lightened to a soft mist, then none at all. The calm before the storm?
“Blair?”
She wet her lips, her mouth forming words, but no sound emerged right away. “I was attacked by a demon.”
“Storm demon.”
“Just a second ago you called them Shadow Demons.”
“There are different kinds of Shadow Demons.” He really wasn’t cut out for that conversation.
“So this storm demon attacked me. You killed—”
“Vanquished.”
“—one of them by cutting off its head.” She paused, frowning. “They don’t bleed, do they?” The disbelief in her voice begged him to deny everything he’d told her.
He shook his head. “They manifest human-looking bodies.”
“That thing had a hold of me. It was real.”
“They have a physical form, yes, but not completely like us. Not anymore.”
“Can they feel pain?”
He nodded. “But it’s more that it slows them down than anything else.”
She gave him a once-over as though she wasn’t sure what to think about any of this.
“We’ll talk more inside.”
Blair noticed then that they were parked in front of her apartment. She glanced at the driveway that led to the rear parking lot, grateful Drew hadn’t gone around back. Where she’d been attacked.
By a demon.
She closed her eyes, searching for a reason to doubt any of it—all of it. Demons didn’t exist, yet those soulless, red-rimmed eyes were more than just some trick of the light. If her attackers had been human, Drew couldn’t have severed a head without a lot of blood being spilled, and she couldn’t remember there being an ounce of it anywhere.
“Don’t suppose you have keys hidden in your gown somewhere?”
“I’ll get the extra set from the super.” She didn’t move, everything inside her slowing down, growing still.
“I’ll be with you the entire time.”
Blair didn’t bother to tell him she was too busy trying to compartmentalize everything to be afraid of going inside. Who had time to think about monsters in the closet while staring at a man strapping a sword and scabbard onto his back?
She watched him slip his jacket over top. The outline of the weapon remained visible, but she doubted anyone they passed would pay enough attention to notice.
“Playing it safe,” Drew said when he caught her attention fixed on his back.
His reassuring smile didn’t put a dent in the panic burrowing through her middle. Torn between wishing she was still in the hospital, high on pain meds, and wishing she could tell Drew that he was crazy, she opened the door.
Were crazy men even capable of being that convincing? More importantly, would her brother let anyone who was remotely mentally unstable near her?
No on both counts.
Knowing she couldn’t hide in the Jeep all day, she joined Drew on the sidewalk. He scanned the street, and she turned to follow his gaze.
“It’s fine.”
She nearly laughed. There wasn’t anything fine about any of this, and by the time she retrieved her spare key and they stood outside her apartment, her ribs had become the thrashing point for her runaway heart.
Had the man—demon—been here in her absence?
She took another breath and slid the key into the lock. She looked at Drew. “Why didn’t you stay that night?”
His shoulders tensed, his expression both resigned and relieved, but he didn’t look at her when he finally answered. “I don’t know.”
She frowned at what sounded like regret. “If you had stayed, I still would have gone out.” She would have made it quick to get back to the man waiting in her bed, but she still would have left to meet Kenny.
Drew didn’t argue, though he looked like he wanted to. His hand closed over hers on the door. She made no move to open it.
“There’s no one here but us.”
Funny how hearing that both eased the tension at the base of her spine and made her more nervous than watching him strap a fucking sword to his back. “How do you know?”
He was the first to step inside. “Trust me.”
Like it was ever that simple.
“Why don’t you get changed and get some clothes together.”
She spotted the cell phone in his hand. “You’re calling Braxton, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Tell him…tell him I’m okay.” Okay for just being told she hadn’t been cornered by some mugger with a homicidal streak, but something else.
She left Drew talking quietly into his phone and ventured down the hall to her bedroom. After checking behind the door, under the bed and in her closet—just to be sure—she let herself relax as much as her over-stimulated brain allowed. Flagpoles probably had more give than she did right now.
Dragging off the sweater she’d borrowed from a nurse at the clinic, Blair left it on her bed, gathered clean clothes and slipped across to the bathroom to change. The woman staring back at her in the mirror looked far too normal for what was happening.
She rubbed at her itchy palm, and pulled on underwear and jeans. She grabbed her shirt, catching sight of her bandage in the reflection. Gently, she tugged at the edges of the bandage, needing to see what the bastard had done to her.
Her stomach pitched wildly. “Drew!”
“What’s wrong?” Drew came through the door in an instant.
Her eyes found his in the mirror. “How is this possible?”
Instead of finding her skin raw and pink where she’d been stabbed, maybe even bleeding from moving around so much, the stitched scar looked a couple weeks old, not days. “What the hell is going on?”
“You’re fine.”
“No. No, I’m not.” Not even close. Tension curled across the back of her neck and she gripped her shirt tightly to her front. The small space seemed to shrink, and she shoved past him.
“Hey.” Drew caught up with her in her bedroom. He reached out to grab a hold of her.
A charge of electricity arced between their hands.
Drew cringed, and Blair stumbled back, staring at her hands in horror. A buzz of something—she didn’t fucking know what—ran beneath her skin.
“How did I…” She shook her head. “What’s happening to me?”
“You’re gonna be fine.” He grabbed her wrist before she could retreat, and she braced herself for another shock.
The surprising warmth of his fingers encircled her, and a second later he released her hand to smooth his palm up the side of her cheek. She whimpered at the gentle touch and buried her face against his chest. Strong arms came around her.
“You’re going to be okay,” he whispered against her hair.
“Liar.” She wanted to be furious that he wasn’t being straight with her. She’d seen the look of surprise he’d been quick to conceal when she’d shocked him, had damn near felt his disbelief. Whatever was happening to her, whatever she felt humming deep inside of her, there was nothing okay about it.
“Am I sick?” Explanations were slipping through her fingers faster than her pulse pounded. She needed something concrete to hold on to, to figure out.
He tipped her chin up, his gaze uncompromising. “No.”
“Promise?”
Drew didn’t answer, but lowered his mouth to hers. To distract or to reassure her?
Slow, thorough and impossibly tender, the kiss sparked a flame that snapped through her bloodstream. Her world had been knocked off its axis, but this she knew, recognized—craved.
Even more than before.
Way more than before.
A desire he could only unleash with his mouth. His soft, drugging, feverish mouth. One that worked her over until her system threatened to mutiny, the traitorous buzz spreading until every cell and nerve ending vibrated with it.
Blair let her shirt fall to the floor and locked her arms around his neck. She threaded her fingers through the hair at his nape. Corded neck muscles strained beneath her palm. A sign of his restraint or that he’d settle for nothing less than all of her if she didn’t stop now?
The tightening in her belly grew hot, burning away everything she didn’t want to think about. She sucked in a deep breath, every pore soaking him up. Every inch of skin hungered for a brush of his fingers, a teasing sweep of his lips, a nip of his teeth, the fierce suction of his mouth.
She moaned in protest at the rigid grip he had on her, as though he feared she would shatter in his arms any second. She pushed up on her toes, deepening the kiss as she leaned into him. Her breasts were heavy and warm, and she rubbed against the hard wall of his chest like a feline, arching at the promise of his touch.
Drew nipped her bottom lip, let it slide slowly between his. His forehead touched hers. “We should go.” His hard-on nudged her belly, calling him a liar. He didn’t want to stop anymore than she could quiet the need that had been awakened within her.
“Not yet.” She flexed her hips, and heard him groan at the intimate friction. She wasn’t ready to leave, wasn’t ready to abandon the lust stirring thicker and faster in her belly. Right now she needed, for just a minute, to feel this. To come apart beneath his hands, his mouth, his tongue. Whatever it took to satisfy the slow throb between her thighs.
His hands curved around her ribs. The tops of his thumbs brushed the underside of each breast, luring her nipples to hard, aching peaks. She leaned back, imprisoning his jaw in her hands and tugging his mouth to where she needed to feel him. He offered no resistance, lowering his face to nuzzle the valley between her breasts. His teeth scraped and nipped the lower he went until he finally swirled his tongue over her nipple.
Blair moaned, and he fastened his lips around her, slowly sucking the tip into his mouth. The wet walls compressed around her, tugging ruthlessly.
“More,” she murmured.
“No.” He shook his head, pulled her arms from where she held onto him. He kissed her fingers. “This isn’t what you need right now. You still haven’t healed—”
“What I need, all I need right now, is you.”
Heat flared in his gaze. He backed away.
Her mind shouted for her not to let him retreat. She couldn’t accept anything else. Wouldn’t.
Blair grabbed his hand. “You can’t stop. Please, don’t stop, Drew. Don’t leave the way you did that night.”
His eyes narrowed, and she held her breath, certain she’d gone too far, pushed too hard.
“Don’t play games with me, Blair. You might not like it when you don’t win.”
He was pissed, but aroused. She could feel the volatile combination rushing over her skin.
Not having buttoned her pants yet, she took his hand, and pressed it against her sex. “No games.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked, and he traced her cleft like a man who didn’t want to, but couldn’t stop himself. “Is this what you want?”
The primitive edge to his voice made her shudder. “Again,” she demanded.
“Or what?” Drew cupped her sex, rotating his palm until she whimpered. “What would you do if I were smart enough to stop right now and walk out of this room?”
She told him the truth. “Probably cry.”
“Fuck,” he hissed.
“Which is exactly what I need to do right now.” She closed her hands around the hard length of cock. “Not tomorrow or next week, or when you think I can handle it. Now.”
He caught her jaw in his hands, frustration and need glittering in his eyes. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he growled, and crushed his mouth down on hers.
She parted her lips, groaning at the hard thrust of his tongue sinking into her mouth.
He yanked her pants down and delved beneath the edge of her panties. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, Blair gripped his shoulders. Slow and easy, he parted her slick folds, tracing the seam down to her wet opening.
Yes.
“Sit,” he ordered, his thumb circling her swollen clit.
She shook her head, lacing her fingers through his.
“You want this, we do it my way.”
Blair grinned at the dark authority that ran beneath his voice. He kissed her senseless for her small display of triumph.
Her legs hit the end of her bed, and she sat.
Drew knelt between her legs. “Up.”
She lifted her ass off the mattress. He dragged his fingers across her hip, tugging her pants all the way down. Every inch of skin he exposed was treated to a lingering kiss.
In the back of her mind, Blair registered a storm brewing outside, then thought about nothing at all as Drew bent his head and parted her cleft with his tongue. She sank her nails into the edge of the bed and spread her legs wider. Every stroke of his tongue up her damp folds made Blair roll her hips forward. He caught on that she couldn’t take a lazy exploration, but needed to be devoured, shoved—not coaxed—to the edge of release.
Leaning back on her elbows, she lifted her hips, pushing against the brutal stroke of his tongue. Like a man warned that he was about to be starved for
the next week and best get what he could now, he flicked and nipped at her clit, pulling the engorged knot between his lips. Sucking until she cried out.
His fingers circled her damp opening, then thrust inside.
Her insides crackled and flared, and she shouted as she came hard, rocking to the wild rhythm of his mouth on her sex and his thick fingers pumping in and out.
Drew didn’t slow down. Couldn’t. Not even when she lay boneless on the bed, her fingers raking down his shoulders as she came down from the high. Ruthless, he rubbed his tongue along her wet crease, curling it around her clit. Slick from her sex, his fingers glided into her warm, snug opening over and over.
Her thighs pushed at his shoulders, and she tried to wiggle out of reach. “Too much.”
“Not enough.” He caught her hands and flattened them beneath his on the bed.
She bucked her hips against his mouth, whimpering for him to stop, begging him not to. He loved every second of it, his anger overridden by lust. He’d wanted to make her sorry for using his leaving that night to goad him into staying, into giving in. Wanted to have her at his mercy for the provoking comment that nailed him in the chest with the force of a ninety-five-mile-per-hour fastball.
That he deserved to be called out for abandoning her didn’t matter. What mattered was making sure he didn’t fuck the situation up any more than he already had. An impossible goal when she’d pressed his hand between her legs, the damp warmth of her sex burning through her panties and straight into his palm. Drowning out the lust that roared in his head hadn’t been an option, but he’d refused to play by her rules.
Still determined to give her more than just a brief reprieve from the rest of the world, he slowed the mindless rhythm to lick and pull at the wet knot tucked in her folds. She tried to tug her hands loose, but he didn’t let her, tightening his grip.
Her hips worked in tandem to heighten her pleasure, and he groaned in pure masculine satisfaction when she came again.
Then his back hit the floor. He didn’t know if she shoved him there, or if he dragged her down. Probably both. She jerked at his pants, freeing his aching cock. Her hand closed around the base, pumping him impatiently. To punish him for trying to stop this? Or to drive him out of his mind? Either way the results were the same. He needed to fuck her. Now.
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