Demon Hunting with a Sexy Ex

by Lexi George

  Duncan bided his time, waiting until the shrouding process was complete. “Nicely done,” he said to the huntress. “You may depart. I would see Mac receive a proper burial, and I do not trust you to do the thing right. He was a brave lad, and his family will wish to visit his grave.”

  “Growing sentimental about your kills?” Illaria’s lip curled in contempt. “Perhaps you would care to have his ears as a trophy?” Duncan flinched, and Illaria laughed, pleased to have goaded him. “Bury your kill as you wish, but bury him deep. I have no wish to tidy up after you.” She gave their assembled group a contemptuous glance. “I bid you good day. I will not say well met, for a Kirvahni huntress does not lie.”

  She disappeared.

  “Damn,” Evan said. “What a bee-yotch.”

  “My thought exactly.” Cassandra turned to Duncan. “Let me grab a staff. I’m going with you to find Toby.”

  “No,” Duncan said. “Evan and I can do the thing faster alone.”

  “But I—”

  “I will set wards about your place to protect you and Verbena in our absence, and Conall will send a warrior to protect you, at my request.”

  “I have wards, and we don’t need a guard. Verbena and I can take care of ourselves.”

  “Your wards are not working at present.”

  Cassandra made a face. “Thanks for the reminder. I really need to do something about that.”

  “Yes,” Duncan said. “In the meantime, I will reinforce the protective spells around your property—with your permission, of course.”

  “Uh-huh. And if I say no?”

  “I will do it anyway. I will be more efficient on the hunt an I am not distracted by worry.”

  She frowned. “This feels wrong. I should be the one going after Toby. He’s my friend.”

  “Beck speaks of Tobias Littleton with great fondness, as well. He has been good to you?”

  “Very. Toby and I go back a long way. He’s like family.” She blinked rapidly, her eyes moist with tears. “I-I’m very fond of him.”

  “Then I will find him and bring him back to you. You have my word.”

  She hesitated. “Okay, dammit,” she said with obvious reluctance. “Have it your way.”

  “I intend to.” Duncan lowered his voice for her ears alone. “Soon and more than once. Or have you forgotten our bargain?”

  She met his gaze, his sweet temptress, and what he saw there made his heart thud. “Not a chance,” she said. “I’ve got a few intentions of my own.”

  She turned to Evan. “You missed breakfast. Come inside and have something to eat. You can’t hunt on an empty stomach.” She frowned at his knee breeches. “And you cannot keep running around in that ridiculous outfit. George Washington, really? Of all the ridiculous stories . . .” She shook her head. “I hope you know the sheriff knew you were lying.”

  “Sure.” Evan grinned. “That was half the fun.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Duncan buried Mac across the river on his property beneath a stately oak and marked the grave with a heavy stone. “Sleep well, youngling,” he said, and stepped into the void.

  He materialized on Cassandra’s lawn. Entering the house, he found Evan sitting at the kitchen table enjoying a hearty breakfast.

  “Everything go okay?” Cassandra asked, turning from the stove where she was cooking.

  Duncan nodded. “Aye. Mac is at rest.”

  “You could have waited, you know,” Evan said, slathering jam on a piece of toast. “I told you I’d help.”

  “And I thank you,” Duncan said, “but ’twas something I needed to do myself.”

  “I get it. It’s in the handbook.” Evan made a zigzag in the air with his fork. “You whack ’em, you bury ’em.”

  “Something of the sort.”

  “More eggs and bacon, General Washington?” Cassandra asked, setting a platter in front of Evan.

  “Twist my arm.” Evan grinned and shoveled more food onto his plate.

  After making sure Evan had everything he needed, Cassandra pulled Duncan into the hall.

  “There’s something you should know,” she told him in a low voice. “Blueticks are cold nose hounds. If Toby’s in those woods, Evan will find him, but here’s the thing. Blueticks have a big bawl mouth—meaning when they bay, you can hear them a mile off.” There was a faint worry line between her brows. “If Evan catches the scent and gets excited, there’s a good chance he’ll make a lot of noise, and Zeb will know you’re coming.”

  Duncan reached out, brushing the furrow between her eyes with the pad of his thumb. “Worry not. We will be fine. Come here, I would have a kiss before I go.”

  Her eyelids fluttered in surprise. “You want to kiss me?”

  “To the contrary, thrall, you will kiss me. Think of it as a gesture of good faith to seal our bargain.”

  “Very well.” Rising on tiptoe, she planted a swift peck on his cheek. “Consider the bargain sealed.”

  “Not so fast,” he said as she whirled to walk away. “That is not the sort of kiss I had in mind.”

  She stopped and turned to face him. Her eyes were downcast, her expression demure, but her mouth—her sweet, delectable mouth—trembled with mischief. “No?” she murmured. “A thrall is not to blame. A thrall cannot read your mind.”

  “Ah, remiss of me,” he said. “Allow me to allay your confusion.” Striding to a long, oak plank bench against one wall, he sat down and patted his leg. “Come, thrall. Sit on my lap.”

  “A thrall is uncertain. A thrall would not crush you.”

  “A thrall is foolish.” Reaching out, he pulled her close and settled her onto his thighs. “A thrall’s weight is slight, and a warrior is Dalvahni and exceptionally strong.”

  Her bottom pressed against him in a most interesting way. Desire, heady and strong, flooded through him. His flesh quickened, and it was all he could do not to groan and rock his hips in response.

  “A thrall will kiss me on the mouth.” His voice was husky as he lowered his mouth to hers. “A thrall will kiss a warrior and not stop until bidden.”

  Cassandra gazed up at him, her face mere inches away. Her eyes were extraordinary, indigo-blue irises with violet centers. He’d never seen their like, not in a thousand different worlds. They reflected her every mood: tenderness, amusement, fury, trepidation.

  Desire.

  Her eyes were warm now, and sparkled with laughter. “A thrall confesses her worry.” She made a show of lowering her lashes. “A thrall greatly fears she may not please a warrior.”

  “A thrall shall kiss me and find out.” His throat closed around the words, his heart thundering like a drum. “A thrall shall do so, and now.”

  “If a warrior is certain . . .”

  Wrapping her slender arms about his neck, Cassandra kissed him, and Duncan forgot to breathe. He forgot the long, lonely years without her. He forgot the bitterness and regret, the searing grief and pain of their separation, the heartsick yearning, the soul-stealing terror that she was dead, that he would never find her, that she was lost to him forever. He forgot his jealousy and anger. He forgot the hurt and rejection of her proposal.

  He forgot everything but Cassandra. She was in his arms, where she belonged, and the world was right. She was alive and well. She was his heart and soul. She was woman, goddess, siren, angel, and she-devil in one stunning, irresistible package. She was his everything. He’d been lost without her, breathing in and out. Existing. Surviving, but taking no joy in it. A hollowed-out husk, going through the motions; alive by all appearances, but dead inside.

  Like the rogue. The thought drifted through his mind and melted away again, dissolved by the heat of Cassandra’s kiss. Her mouth was warm and sweet as ambrosia, and the taste of it was a magical elixir that brought him back to life. Ah, gods, it had been too long. A moment away from her was too long, and he had been without her an eternity of moments. Her tongue brushed his, and he began to shake. Heat ran down his spine and settled in his groin. He was ne
ed, raw, aching need, and he could never get enough.

  Just when he was certain he would shatter, Evan stepped into the hall, ending the kiss.

  “Jesus, you two,” he said. “Go make your little porno someplace else. I’m too young for this shit.”

  Cassandra pulled away, her cheeks aflame, leaving Duncan feeling bereft. Ruefully, he acknowledged that Evan’s interruption had been fortuitous. Another instant, and he would have confessed his love for Cassandra right then and there.

  That would have been a mistake. Cassandra did not want his love. She wanted his body and nothing more. A passionate avowal would send her running.

  She jumped up, obviously flustered. “Evan, did you . . . that is, can I get you anything else to eat?”

  “Nah, I’m good,” Evan drawled. “Full as a tick. You ready to hit the woods, Dunk?”

  Duncan rose. “Of a certainty.”

  “You’ll be careful, won’t you?” Cassandra asked with an anxious expression.

  She was worried about him, and for the first time, Duncan felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps she cared for him, a little.

  “Aye.” Unable to resist, he pulled her close for another kiss. “An it pleases you, milady.”

  “Do you mind?” Evan said. “I just ate.”

  Reluctantly, Duncan released Cassandra. “Cease your carping,” he said to Evan. “Whither do we go?”

  “My place, so I can change clothes.”

  “Very well,” Duncan said, and grabbed Evan by the arm.

  “Hey.” Evan’s voice rose in alarm. “Wait a minute. I didn’t mean—”

  Duncan stepped once more into the void, materializing in front of Evan’s single-story house. The lots on the street were small, the houses uniform in shape and appearance. Having sojourned in Hannah for some time, Duncan was familiar with the area and knew where Evan lived, though he had never been inside the demonoid’s dwelling. He looked around with interest. This part of town was called Meadowbrook, an inapposite designation as the area boasted neither, but humans were illogical creatures and much given to fancy. He’d been here before with Conall—Jason Damian, Conall’s father-in-law, lived nearby with his wife and younger children.

  Evan groaned and slid off Duncan’s back. “God, I’m sick as a horse. Why the hell didn’t we take Cassie’s truck?”

  “Because Cassie cannot travel in the way of the Dalvahni, and I would not leave her stranded.”

  “You are such a worrywart when it comes to that dame,” Evan said. “Well, don’t just stand there. Let’s get out of the street before Old Lady Copeland sees us. She’s not a bad old fart, but she’ll talk your ears off, and I’m in no mood to explain the clown pants.”

  Duncan followed Evan up the tiered, winding walk.

  “Limestone,” Evan said, indicating the pavers at their feet. “And see, I used rough stone to border the beds. The front lawn was flat as a pancake. Brought in fill dirt and topsoil. Landscaped it myself—I’m good with dirt. Added these levels and the shrubs and flowers on each side. I was going for a cottage feel.” He climbed two steps on a slope, and stopped. “The house was a complete yawn. Cheap siding and no personality. Real cookie-cutter drudge. I replaced the siding with gray cedar shingle cladding, moved the front door to the left—see the dark wood and the glass cut-outs? Pretty, and it lets in light—and had an A-frame porch with square columns built over the entrance.” He propped his hands on his hips, regarding the house with obvious satisfaction. “And wait until you see what I’ve done inside.”

  “It is a most handsome abode,” Duncan said, amused and surprised by Evan’s sudden domestic turn. “You have reason to be proud.”

  Evan hunched his shoulders. “It’s mine, and I like it. Never had a home. The ’rents moved from place to place. We lived out of cars, back rooms, dive motels, and the occasional crappy camper. I promised myself if I ever got free of them, I’d have a real home.”

  “I grieve for your pain, Evan Beck.”

  “Whatev. You deal or you die. Come on in.”

  They went inside, and Evan gave Duncan a tour of the house, pointing out the various changes he’d made. “The old ceilings were low. I had Murphy raise them to nine feet. After being cooped up in the witch’s shed for two months, I can’t abide cramped spaces.”

  “This Murphy is a carpenter elf?”

  “Is that a thing?”

  “Of a certainty.”

  “Huh. No, Murphy’s a norm, but he knows his shit when it comes to building,” Evan said. “I had new windows with transoms put in for light, and Murphy knocked down the wall that divided the living room from the kitchen. Made it more open. For entertaining, you know. Saw it on television.” He flushed slightly. “I watch a lot of home shows.”

  “Do you have many guests?” asked Duncan.

  “Nah. You’re the first, but you never know.” Evan’s expression darkened. “Thought I might have Red over for dinner one night, but then—” He halted and shrugged. “Dipshit idea, huh?”

  “Not necessarily. Can you cook?”

  Evan gave him a look. “Can’t boil water. Why do you think I haunt the Sweet Shop? But I got a first-rate kitchen. Center island, farm sink, marble countertops, and everything Viking.” He shoved his thumbs in the waistband of the breeches. “Guess I could serve her PB&J on my new dishes, huh? Like I said, dipshit idea.”

  “Evan, you are restive. Did something happen between you and Taryn in the woods?”

  Evan’s face closed. “Hell, no. Nothing happened. I set her straight and sent her on her way. Make yourself at home while I change.”

  He stomped out of the room, leaving Duncan alone. Duncan wandered into the kitchen. He’d known a few Norsemen in his time—had been with Beowulf when the warrior slew the djegrali Grendel—and he was curious about the Vikings Evan had mentioned. Alas, there was no sign of them. Bored, he strolled back into the chamber Evan had called the living room and sat down on a leather sofa to wait. ’Twas a pleasant space wherein to linger. A stone fireplace flanked by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the back of the property, an empty square of lawn enclosed by a wooden fence. Evan, Duncan surmised, had yet to turn his gardening skills to the backyard.

  Duncan was counting the squares in the coffered ceiling when Evan stalked back into the room. He wore jeans, a deep blue shirt with a man on a pony embossed on the front, hiking boots, and an extremely surly glower.

  “I kissed her, all right?” Evan said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

  “Whom did you kiss?” asked Duncan, blinking.

  “Red. Huge mistake and I know it, so stop ragging my ass.”

  “I did not—”

  “Yeah, but I know what you’re thinking. She’s Kirvahni, and I’m demon scum. She’s a rule follower, and I’m a rule breaker. She’s spent her life on the side of Right and Might, and I’ve spent mine doing shit I don’t even want to think about.”

  “But you—”

  Evan held up his hand. “You don’t have to say it. I get it. It’ll never work. Don’t matter anyway, right? She’s gone and she probably won’t be back, so no point in talking about it.” He turned and clomped for the door. “You gon’ sit there all day, or we going after Toby?”

  Duncan meekly rose and followed Evan outside to a black truck.

  Evan stroked the metal side of the conveyance. “This is my baby. Bought her with my casino winnings. F-450, fully loaded. Ain’t she a beaut?”

  “Vroom,” said Duncan, gazing at the gleaming carriage in wistful admiration.

  “Damn straight.” Evan gave the shining metal carriage another fond pat. “Four hundred and forty horsepower under the hood. Leather seats and heated steering wheel.” He opened the passenger side door. “Climb in.”

  “’Twould be faster to do it my way.”

  “Not on your life. That shit makes me nauseous. Besides, a grown-ass man riding piggyback isn’t dignified.”

  “It is not as though anyone will see you. We will be in the woods.”


  “Yeah? Say we find Toby and he’s in bad shape? You can’t carry both of us.” Evan jabbed Duncan’s chest. “And I’m not walking my ass out of the woods.”

  “You cannot drive this conveyance to the mouth of the cave,” he protested. “You do realize there will be hiking involved?”

  “Yeah, but we can get damn close. And when we’re done, I’ll need my wheels. Got a business to run.” Evan smirked. “After what I saw this morning, I doubt you want me hanging around Cassie’s, anyway.” He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth and made loud kissy noises. “Unless you’re kinky and like folks to watch?”

  “I do not take your meaning.”

  “Some people like an audience when they boink.”

  “No, by Kehv. I am most definitely not interested in that.”

  “Didn’t think so, but you never know.”

  “You should know. We are friends, are we not?”

  “Sure. Whatev.”

  “Do not ‘whatev’ me,” Duncan said. “It is dismissive and rude. Are we friends, or are we not?”

  Evan’s brows lowered. “I’m here, ain’t I? I’m going into the woods to get tick-bit looking for some dude don’t mean diddly to me. And I’m letting you ride in my new truck. What more do you want, a promise ring?”

  Duncan clapped him on the shoulder. “I like you, too, Evan Beck. You are my comrade and ally. From this day forth, my sword is yours, an you need it.”

  “Gah,” said Evan. Color high, he stomped around the truck and got behind the wheel. Duncan climbed in beside him. The interior was plush, the dashboard a confusion of buttons, dials, and whirligigs. Evan pushed a red circle, and the engine turned over with a satisfying rumble.

  “Sweet ride, huh?” Evan backed out of the drive and motored down the street. “You need to get you one of these, Dunk. You know how to drive?”

  “I am a warrior. I am as much at home on horseback as on foot.”

  “Translation—no. No worries. The Evster will teach you.”