And she did not fight to keep her eyes open to watch his firm buttocks clench with each step.
He jerked open the door. “Lee. Get the backpack out of the SUV.”
She didn’t hear a reply but sensed movement outside of the room.
Her stomach roiled. She hated wasting energy on nausea, afraid she’d urp her brilliantly colored drink all over. The rest of the world dimmed around her. She closed her eyes only to flutter them again as she was jostled against a warm, hard body.
Instead of struggling, she curled into him shamelessly. It was like he had a well of energy that was inviting her to tap into it.
If she did, would it be as invigorating as a month ago? Another time she’d been unconscious and an anonymous rescuer had given her his blood. Blood so powerful, so full of…everything, Zoey hadn’t needed an electrolyte drink for days.
From her team’s report, Zoey had determined who’d saved her then.
This couldn’t be…
A bottle was shoved to her mouth and cool, berry-flavored liquid spilled over her tongue. She swallowed and sucked down more, repeating the process until the demon tipped it to give her every last drop.
Energy slowly flooded back into her system, and she shifted until she could shove herself away from him.
Hellfire, those eyes of his were exotic, intoxicating. Violet with flecks of black, they tracked her movements. She tried flashing away and no big surprise, she couldn’t.
“Who are you?” Strength had returned to her voice, but sheer will kept it from wobbling.
It was like every cell in her body wanted at him, to plaster herself full-length against his bare skin after she shredded every last thread of her clothing.
“Stryke.”
Oh. That was easy. She’d expected games, riddles, nonanswers. But he’d admitted exactly who she thought he was.
“Stryke,” she repeated and regretted it. Heat flared in his eyes and his gaze grew impossibly more intense. She glanced around, again absorbing her environment. “Why?”
She couldn’t be more specific. So many questions and he’d only answer if he wanted to.
“To save you,” his full lips quirked, “but you’d taken care of the situation for the most part.”
She’d been getting sucked into the underworld. Yet she was still in her realm. And he was nude. Think beyond her hormones! Nude… He’d come straight from the underworld. He didn’t need a host to stay in this realm. Someone anchored him here. Who?
Perhaps if she discovered why she’d been jumped tonight, she’d have her answers.
“Why did they attack me?”
“Because you and I are connected.”
She sputtered a laugh and beckoned for her backpack. Her brows lifted as he snagged another bottle and handed it to her, like he knew exactly what she needed and wanted to help. She cradled her juice between both hands like a child, since she couldn’t separate them.
A glint of humor mixed with confusion in his eyes. “How about we exchange information. You tell me why the juice, and I’ll tell you why Hypna wants you dead.”
Zoey had been correct. It was Hypna targeting her specifically.
How badly did Zoey need to know why? She hadn’t told anyone about her condition, not even Mitchell. Not that he would have thought any less of her, but she hadn’t wanted to feel like less in his eyes. She’d already chosen a path that had pitted her against most other prime families, and Mitchell had followed her—and died for it. Since she’d been a girl, the way primes did things had bothered her. Once she’d befriended Demetrius and learned of the atrocities their government had been committing against humans and shifters, even vampires, she’d joined his game of infiltration and deception and had gone undercover to stop the enslavement of and experimentation on shifters.
When she’d met her true mate, she hadn’t been able to back out and pretend blissful mated ignorance. She wouldn’t have made it two months since Mitchell had run in the very crowds she’d worked on undermining. When she’d told Mitchell what upset her about their people and those who ruled them, he’d been concerned, too. As a true mate should. Slowly, she’d revealed more and more until he’d become as deeply undercover as she was with the organization their government had sanctioned to do their dirty work.
And now he was gone. All because of his unwavering devotion to her.
A calloused finger traced the side of her face and she jerked back, spilling blue liquid over her lap.
Stryke dropped his hand. “I feel your sadness.”
“Yeah, I feel your…” Damn, she didn’t have a comeback. Keep your eyes off his privates!
“You can feel anything of mine you’d like.”
She bared her fangs at him and rolled her eyes away. She hadn’t done that since she was a teenager.
He chuckled. “The juice?”
“I’m thirsty.”
“You were close to comatose. I thought your drink was just a habit, but I can see now that you need it. Why?”
“You knew I drank Gatorade?” Her fear spiraled higher, mostly because she forced it to. The thought of him watching her, studying her, made her heart flutter, and not because she was low on sodium.
“I know many things about you, Zoey, and I’d like to share how, but you first.”
She studied him. His wood-fire scent scrambled her brains, but she detected a thread of dishonesty. “You lie.”
He inclined his head. “I did not say you’d like what I had to say. That’s my only hesitation with telling you.”
“Did you…” How was she going to ask? Did you save my ass a month ago? Was that your powerful blood that healed me? Because she’d crawl over glowing-hot coals to get one more drop.
He lifted a dark brow. “Did I what?”
“Were you at the Godet mansion several weeks ago?”
“You’ll have to be more specific. Was I at the Godet mansion when I handed Fyra to Rancor and texted you to tell that big lug to get his ass over and save her? Or was I at the Godet mansion when Hypna was sucking the life out of you in a shattered shower?”
“I was taking care of it,” Zoey grumbled, totally lying and he probably knew it. Morgana had pinned her, and Hypna had gone along for the ride, much to Zoey’s mortification. Morgana had caught her off guard in the bathroom—damn Gatorade ran right through her—and the prime had cornered Zoey, then used Mitchell’s memory to torment her.
“I’m sure you would’ve,” he leaned forward with a wicked smile, “totally died. You’re welcome.”
Zoey scowled at him. Stryke had a playful side that she wanted to explore, not get the hell away from.
Duty. That was a good excuse, though him being a demon was more than enough. Her team had encountered Stryke on their last few missions. And he’d been helpful only enough to fulfill his own needs.
Her phone started vibrating. She awkwardly reached for it in her back pocket, but her hands were bound. Stryke snaked an arm around her and withdrew it.
His smoky scent crowded her, and the wall of his bare skin sucked the breath out of her lungs.
“You so need to get dressed,” she hissed.
Another low chuckle rumbled through his chest. He was sitting so close the vibrations danced through her. He checked her screen. “You’re late for a meeting. The Synod?”
It wasn’t a secret that she sat on the board that ruled her kind, as well as shifters and hybrids. But Stryke seemed to know about all aspects of her life. It should set off alarm bells, make her cringe with dread, not fill her with a warm glow that’d been missing since Mitchell had perished.
“I imagine Demetrius will come looking for you, since he’s your boss and likely sitting in on the same meeting.” Stryke frowned and stared at her phone. “I suppose I must tell you how we’re connected or he’ll keep trying to interfere with your safety.”
“I’m better off with my team than in an eighties-reject room with you.”
Stryke glanced around the room. “Ah, that’s the decade
this place is stuck in.”
She recalled he’d ordered someone to get her pack. “Who else is here?”
“His name is Lee and he’s human. And I’d be very upset if you held his ability to host me against him. He didn’t have a choice.”
“They always have a choice.”
A knowing gleam brightened his unique eyes. “No, not always. Haven’t you wondered how I can be in your realm in my own form? Hasn’t Fyra explained how it works? I assumed you’d know, since she was able to go on the run in this realm after she bonded to Bishop.”
Zoey kept her expression impassive instead of chagrined. The question had briefly crossed her mind. She’d been too busy trying to determine how she’d ended up in a badly outdated home. And ogling his true form.
“Now, about Demetrius,” he continued. “I want to talk to him with you, and I’ll tell him the same thing I’m going to tell you.” He took a deep breath. “You and I are bonded.”
Chapter Three
Stryke let his words sink in. Zoey’s complexion had been returning to normal until his announcement. Now, she paled and her mouth dropped.
“You lie.”
“Do I?”
She’d have a better sense than he would. Vampires could sense emotions better than selfish demons could, though Stryke could sense more from her because of their bond.
A flush spread up her neck. “No. Impossible. I agreed to nothing.”
He sighed. “You did, but you didn’t understand at the time what you were agreeing to.” This…this was the part he dreaded. “Because I was in Mitchell.”
Zoey exploded off the bed, her half-empty juice bottle spilling blue liquid over the pink carpet. “You lie.” She prowled around the bed, eyes intense with rage, her fangs bared. “How dare you drag him into this mess. How dare you insinuate he’d host a demon.”
“I said they don’t always have a choice.”
She stopped in front of him. “You aren’t strong enough to possess a prime. Fyra said she can’t. How can you?”
He remained sitting. Zoey wasn’t clawing his eyes out and he didn’t want her any more on the defensive than she already was.
“I’m older,” he explained, “and the energy aspect of my abilities is stronger than hers.”
Zoey’s gaze darted away, then back. Her brow furrowed and she looked away again. He didn’t need vampire senses to know she was thinking what he said made too much sense.
She licked her lips. “Mitchell would’ve known, and he wouldn’t have tolerated it.”
“He didn’t detect me.” Almost had, but Stryke had withdrawn enough to remain under the radar. “The undercover assignment you two were on distracted him enough to allow me to hitch a ride.”
Color leeched from her face again. She was likely ruminating over whether or not he knew all the details of their ill-fated mission.
“Yes, I was there.” Stryke rested his hands on his lap and spoke calmly. “You two were tasked with getting inside Sigma, reporting to Demetrius what was going on, and implicating the Vampire Council in their wrongdoing. Well done, by the way. Your team dismantled a government that ruled for centuries.”
Zoey shook her head, her eyes glistened. “No, impossible. Mitchell was too strong to be possessed.”
Stryke’s lips flattened. Perhaps at one time, but not when Stryke had seized his opportunity. Unlike other demons who needed brokers to prep a host, Stryke used his abilities to sense openings, and he could exit the underworld right into a new host. Zoey’s opinion of her mate was the best one possible and for good reason. Her mate had kept his inner turmoil from her, and it’d eaten at him until it had left an opening for Stryke.
“You are correct, he was strong.” Zoey recoiled at his easy acceptance. “But I am not one of the Circle, who needs a prime vampire to hand themselves over. I can sense energy, how it moves, the path it takes. I sensed an opening and crossed the realm into your mate.”
Zoey twitched like she wanted to cross her arms, but she was still bound. She dropped her hands in front of her. “What kind of opening?”
No, Stryke wouldn’t tell her that. He’d actually agreed with Mitchell’s decision to keep his inner turmoil from her; by then, Stryke had grown overly fond of her himself. “It’s not always identifiable, but you two were carrying out a pretty covert operation. Perhaps it was the stress of betraying his family.”
Partial truth. Very close to the truth, actually. Zoey wouldn’t detect his lie, and neither would she determine the real meaning behind Stryke’s words.
She mulled over his statement. “And one time when you were in Mitchell, we supposedly bonded.”
“All it takes is a bite, Zoey. It’s all about blood.” His words were guttural. She and her mate had copulated many, many times, every chance they had gotten. And he’d been there, too.
A blush stained her cheeks. Yeah, she’d figured that out. Over and over, they’d sworn their loyalty to each other, Mitchell more to justify what he’d been planning. All it took was once for Stryke to insert himself into the equation and bond to her. He didn’t regret it; his unrepentant demon genes wouldn’t allow it.
“You’re like a supernatural voyeur.” She swallowed hard. “Did you kill Mitchell?”
Stryke’s chest squeezed as he remembered the lick of the flames claiming Mitchell’s body. Zoey’s frantic pounding on the other side of the door. The stench of flesh burning as Mitchell succumbed. The male had blamed himself for getting murdered and had mourned what it would do to her. Stryke had stayed until the last minute when the portal opened and sucked him back home, the inferno covering his tracks.
“Losing a host does not benefit me.” Truth. Not complete, but enough for an answer.
She took a step back, then another. “I’m bonded to a demon.” Her wide gaze landed on him, filling with fury. “You asshole. I lost Mitchell and now you threaten my job, my profession, my life?”
“What are you—” Oh, her position on the Synod. No, he couldn’t imagine they’d take news of Zoey’s demon mate lightly. And Hypna had tried to kill her.
She stormed toward him, her face a mask of rage.
She moved so fast, he couldn’t dodge her swing. Balling her hands together, she smacked him over the head. Stryke flew sideways and rolled off the bed with a thunk. By the time he righted himself, she had located the keys and unlocked herself. Damn her speed.
Fear propelled him into motion. He lunged toward her with a roar. She couldn’t get away.
Zoey charged out the door and Stryke skidded into the hallway behind her. Lee rushed to the hallway after hearing the commotion and the stupid kid stepped in her way.
Damn that boy. “Lee, move!”
Lee froze once confronted with a conscious Zoey.
Zoey slammed past Lee, flattening him against the wall without hurting him.
What a female.
Instead of slowing to look for an exit, she kicked up her speed and raced for a window.
Panic flared in Stryke. If she passed the house’s wards, she’d flash away.
He stretched out his arm, almost snagged her coat, but she charged through the glass. The shatter interrupted the silent night and he jumped through the opening after her.
She disappeared as soon as she was clear. He attuned himself to their bond. Please work. He righted himself with a grim smile; he could follow her anywhere.
***
Zoey reappeared outside of the compound. Its stark concrete exterior was the best thing she’d seen in ages. Cold air washed over her, cooling the overheated effects of that demon.
Bonded. She huffed. As if. She started for the exterior door.
The air sizzled behind her and because of that damn bond, she knew Stryke had tracked her.
She spun and snapped a fist out.
He ducked back and caught her hand in his.
“By all that’s evil, I’d forgotten how fast you are.”
She wanted to preen at the pride in his voice. Instead she plowed her
knee toward his impressive genitals, but he blocked her. Ripping her hand free of his grip, she dipped and spun to dig an elbow into his abdomen. She couldn’t make a connection. He wrapped her in a bear hug, his arms pinning hers to her sides.
The door crashed open and half of her team poured out with guns raised.
Demetrius, Bishop, and Rourke spread out to form a perimeter. Stryke edged backward with Zoey but kept her cradled in front of him. Even flaccid, his impressive genitals prodded her backside.
Zoey stilled, not knowing why. Her crew was here to help, she could fight and kick, and they’d take head shots at Stryke. But she didn’t want it to come to that.
“It’s a fucking demon,” Rourke said.
“Not just any demon,” Bishop said, lowering his pistol, “that’s Stryke, in the flesh—and a lot of it.”
“We’ve met, then.” Demetrius kept his gun trained on Stryke.
Yes, they had crossed paths with him, but Stryke had always been in a host.
Creed stalked out of the compound, his face a mask of rage. Her stomach plummeted, both at his reaction and hers. Because her first thought was that she’d regret ever having slept with Creed if he hurt Stryke. How shameful was that? Creed was a good male, a worthy one, unlike the demon holding her hostage.
But she couldn’t deny the draw she felt to the big male behind her.
Stryke’s muscles were like granite at her back until he abruptly released her. She stumbled a few steps forward in surprise but angled herself so she could keep an eye on him and her team.
“I didn’t come here to hurt anyone.” His voice still sent delicious shivers up and down her spine. She had to get over the feeling and fast.
“He says we’re bonded,” she announced.
“What?” Creed’s steady aim remained right between Stryke’s eyes. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would slow him down enough so the guys could capture him—or worse.
Stryke nodded. “It’s true.”
Demetrius made a disgusted noise. “We seem to have a rash of unwanted bonds.”
Stryke showed a hint of a smile, no doubt knowing her friends’ history. Demetrius’s mate had been bonded as a child and D had saved her from her fate. Bishop had been bonded months ago but hadn’t wanted to be saved from it. And his mate, Fyra, was becoming one of Zoey’s best friends.
Stryke (New Vampire Disorder Book 4) Page 3