If Stryke kissed like this, what would sex with him be like?
She wanted to know. She had to know. How fast could she get her clothes off?
“Stryke, what did you need me to— Whoa, sorry.”
Zoey yanked herself back with a gasp. Reality slammed back, along with logical thinking.
She’d been making out with a demon! Her occupation was at risk with his chatter about the stupid bond, but she’d been diving down to his tonsils.
She staggered back a few steps as Stryke glared over his shoulder, another deep rumble in his chest. His upper lip was curled into a sneer that bared a fang.
And it was so fucking hot.
Her gaze dipped down and heat bloomed between her legs. The tip of his erection poked past his low-hanging waistband. More than the broad tip was visible and she could barely tear her attention away.
Flustered, pissed at herself, and angry with him for interfering in her life, she shoved past him.
The young man at the end of the hallway walked backward until he hit the wall. This must be Lee.
“S-sorry to, uh, interrupt…” His light skin turned gray and her heightened senses picked up on his fear. And it wasn’t of her, as if he knew of her and that she wouldn’t kill him. Yet it wasn’t terror of Stryke, but more like a fear of disappointment.
It caught her off guard. She’d expected the human to have a simpering will, his only goal to please Stryke to stay alive. But his smell, his darting looks full of apprehension between her and the demon—Lee was more of a lost man who’d found a mentor and didn’t want to be abandoned again.
“You didn’t interrupt a thing.” She wished she could say something to calm him. Was he even old enough to drink? Why’d she feel protective of the human when he was willingly helping Stryke?
“Leave us, Lee.” Stryke must’ve recovered and was coming after her.
She picked up her pace and wove through the house toward the door, but if Stryke tried trapping her against his hard body again, she’d somersault out the damn window again.
“Zoey—”
“Nothing to say, demon.” The door was in sight and she refused to look back. Those violet eyes might make her slow enough that he’d catch her.
She charged out the door. Rourke was reclining against the shed, looking relaxed when he was anything but. Her friend’s stare focused on the demon behind her.
“You know what you can have your human do?” she called over her shoulder. “Have him buy you some clothes.”
Stryke’s only reply was, “We’re not done, you and I.” He’d spoken softly. She doubted Rourke had even heard him.
She ignored him and trekked across the lawn. Time to go home, without her demon.
Chapter Five
“I-I’m so sorry.” Lee’s hands shook as he pulled at his hair and paced the hallway.
Stryke’s anger ebbed. “If it wasn’t you, it would’ve been the vampire.”
The one known as Rourke. If Stryke had kept Zoey any longer, her friend would’ve come knocking, without the courtesy of actually knocking.
Zoey had wanted him. Her lust lingered on his tongue.
Stryke smiled to himself as he entered the room they’d been in. “I’m going to get some sleep. Tomorrow, we do as the lady requested and get me some clothes. Get some sleep, Lee.”
Lee’s blond head bobbed and he ambled off.
Stryke watched him go. The boy had come a long way since Stryke had first possessed him. The human had been lethargic and lacked ambition, left only with a sense of isolation. It’d driven Stryke crazy, but the kid had possessed money and assets at Stryke’s disposal. So he’d started guiding Lee toward a healthier lifestyle. If Lee couldn’t be useful to himself, he would be of no use to Stryke.
“Stryke!” Lee rushed back into view, waving his phone. “I just got this message.” Lee read from the screen. “B used to visit me in his sleep. Just sayin’, wink, wink. F.”
Stryke chuckled and dismissed a perplexed Lee.
Fyra, that crafty bitch.
Yes, Stryke would catch a few z’s. He stretched out on the bed that still smelled sweet like his female. Shutting his eyes, he tried to steady his breathing.
How did this work? He went to sleep thinking about her and woke up next to her? Fyra had said Bishop had done it. Had she tried? Maybe it was a vampire thing and not a bonded thing.
He blew out a frustrated breath. Just fucking sleep. The effort of healing from Hypna’s torture was catching up with him, and he glanced at himself. He hadn’t showered.
Running through the shower, he scrubbed himself off, then threw the dirty sweats back on. If his plan worked, she’d be more receptive if his dick wasn’t waving in her face.
He settled into bed and steeped himself in Zoey’s fruit-juice scent.
Why the juice?
He drifted off with that thought and didn’t know how long went by before he opened his eyes in a different dark room.
He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, like he had been when he’d fallen asleep.
Zoey’s sweet scent surrounded him. Her walls were bare, unlike when she’d been living with her mate. She liked vibrant colors and had always bought fun decorations.
He frowned as he scanned the room. Everything was plain, unadorned, and boring as fuck.
How many years had she been living in this place? The compound itself was fairly new, but he almost expected packing boxes stacked against the wall. There weren’t any, but he bet if he searched her room, her drab, dark clothing would be neatly folded in the drawers. Her hair ties and toiletry items would be tidy and organized. He’d find nothing of her real character at all.
As if she’d let that part of her die with her mate.
How many years had it been and she was still that dedicated to Mitchell?
But she’d still fucked Creed. Stryke suppressed a snarl. It had just been physical release. She was lonely. And if she cut off this much of her personality until she was a living shell…no wonder she’d needed comfort.
He heard a contented sigh and a foot prodded his calf.
Turning onto his side, his mouth quirked.
Typical Zoey. He had maybe a foot of the king-size bed while she slept spread out like a starfish.
Ah, sweet brimstone. Her hair was down. Glorious, silky locks framed her face and spread out on the pillow. When her bun was in place, she was all hard-edged warrior. When her hair was down, she was his ultimate temptation.
The first time he’d taken over Mitchell, the male had been almost ready to drift off when Stryke had floated to the front of his consciousness. The male had succumbed to sleep while Stryke had gotten full use of his body without being detected.
He’d done the same thing he was doing now. He’d watched a sleeping Zoey, marveling over how such a fierce female softened behind closed doors.
Stryke frowned at her choice of pajamas. Solid maroon pajama pants and a white tank top. Where were her adorable prints, the ones only Mitchell—and Stryke—had known about?
Much like her living quarters, she’d made herself blah, plain, when she was anything but.
He let out a sigh. The second time he’d managed to overtake Mitchell while sleeping was when he’d bonded to Zoey. He couldn’t seem to help himself. An aimless life and suddenly she’d been his beacon.
He’d stroked her like so…Stryke feathered his fingers along her face, but without touching her. Showing up in her bed in the middle of the night, even if he was just an incorporeal dream, wouldn’t go over well with her.
She might attack and draw her team in. Or she might not but still tell them about his visit. She was all about duty.
No, for now, he was content to look at her comforting beauty.
A sigh escaped her and she turned her face into his almost touch.
How badly he wanted to wake her. How long had he dreamed of this? Satisfaction like this was forbidden for one of his kind. After Mitchell had died and Stryke had been sent back to
the underworld, he’d thrown himself into doing what he could to limit the Circle’s effects on Zoey and her team. Then Demetrius had found his true mate, who had been steeped in underworld trouble, and Stryke had worked double-time, all while concealing his duplicity. When Fyra and Bishop had gotten their happily-ever-after, it had led Stryke here. He wasn’t sure he was upset. Relieved? Sort of. He wanted Zoey, didn’t care about anyone or anything as long as he was with her.
Zoey adjusted her position, curling onto her side, facing him. His chest swelled. She was seeking him out, even in her sleep.
“Mitchell,” she mumbled.
Stryke’s hopes crashed. For the eight millionth time, he cursed her true mate.
The dream state released him and he woke up in his own bed. He glared at the ceiling for another hour, his mind working over his dilemma. He couldn’t go back to the underworld. He was just breeding stock down there, and not just for Hypna, though she was his primary threat. If it wasn’t her, someone else would want Stryke’s energy abilities. Would Quution hunt him because he didn’t want energetic competition? Stryke had to consider him, too, a potential threat to Zoey.
With a gusty sigh, he came to the conclusion that nothing had changed. His only goals were to keep Zoey safe and make her fall in love with him.
***
Zoey downed her Gatorade. Her craving for a certain demon’s blood was ridiculous and the juice was almost ineffective. Probably because she didn’t feel like she needed as much after just one freaking drop of Stryke’s blood.
She wove through the halls of the compound. Creed would be in his electronics lair.
Creed was their electronics expert. Stryke was an energy demon.
Did she have a thing for energy?
Mitchell had had nothing to do with either. But he was gone and she had a long life left to figure out her male troubles.
Before Mitchell, she hadn’t been a big dater, hadn’t had any long-term relationships. Primes were too superficial, and Zoey hadn’t trusted any to get close. Then after she’d teamed up with Demetrius and they’d set about dismantling the way vampires lived in the world, she couldn’t trust anyone but her team. So she’d fed and got it on when the urge arose, though it hadn’t very often.
Now she was in a freaking love triangle. But Creed wasn’t really into her. He was as lonely as she was and it’s not like they could run around and make love connections while they worked. Not when their work pitted them against so many of their own kind. Like most in law enforcement, they didn’t spend their time with the reputable members of the population.
She sensed Creed in his office and knocked.
“Come.”
Her mouth quirked. He played up the casual vibe, but his formal prime upbringing often revealed itself.
She stepped in and he glanced up from the row of screens spread across his desk.
“Oh, hey.” He cleared his throat and swiveled around on the exercise-ball chair he used. His voice dropped a few octaves. “Can I help you with something?”
Her smile probably looked as regretful as it felt. She’d cut things off with him over a month ago, and while his suggestive comments were always playful, she knew he’d strip if she said the word.
“I was checking to see if there’s anything stirring out there yet.”
Creed stared at her for a moment, like he was searching for a deeper reason for her to be standing in his office.
Maybe there was. Maybe she needed a friend. Maybe she was messed up inside after waking up from an erotic dream that had starred her and Mitchell. A memory, actually, one of their many lovemaking sessions. They’d whispered so many sweet nothings to each other, and they’d taken each other’s blood, like they had many times.
Could that have been when Stryke bonded to her? No, she’d have known, right? Regardless, her emotions had been a jumbled mess since waking.
“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” she blurted.
She snarled with disgust at herself and plopped onto one of the counters that lined his office and held several monitors.
Creed folded his hands in his lap. For once, he was dressed for the field, in black tactical clothing and heavy boots. It was a good look for him, more natural than Hawaiian shirts and board shorts.
“I think there’s something between you two, yes.”
Her brows shot up at his frank reply.
“Since Stryke has been in the picture that we’ve known of,” Creed gave her a pointed look, like it was her fault the demon was tricky, “you’ve been acting differently. Distant, uninterested—not that you were really that interested in the first place.” He muttered the last part under his breath. “And of course I can’t forget you shouting ‘he’s coming’ during climax.”
A flush crept up her face. Yeah, that was why she’d ended it between them. Those words had been weird and disconcerting for them both. Yelling another male’s name might’ve been more hurtful, but less confusing. But Creed had known where he stood in the love department. She’d never led him on. He’d been a friend with benefits.
Creed scrubbed his face and held her gaze. “I knew I couldn’t compete with Mitchell, and this isn’t about us anymore. It’s about you and that bastard demon. If you’re connected to him, we need to sever it. Because we all believe him that you’re a target. And if you’re a target— Here, look.”
He swiveled around to the monitors.
Zoey cocked her head at one screen. The grainy black and white picture showed a brick-and-mortar manor, a common style with prime families. A woman with platinum, insanely curly hair chased two young vampire males around on the lawn. “Is that Melody?”
“Yes.” Creed’s tone was neutral, bordering on frustrated, like when he had to deal with the human woman.
Melody lived with Rourke’s mate’s parents as a nanny to Grace’s brother and the boy her parents had adopted.
Zoey’s gaze drifted over to the next monitor. No one was outside of the elaborate mansion, but from Bishop’s reports when he’d been combing prime residences to find Fyra, Zoey knew this was where Ophelia had been staying with her on-again, off-again boyfriend.
“That’s Nadair Moiré’s place. Have you notified Ophelia about the trouble brewing?”
“I left a cryptic message, but you know how hard it is to get ahold of her,” he said.
“What about the Blanchettes? Is Grace’s family in trouble?”
Melody, her blond curls bouncing, was hopping and jumping around the boys as they frolicked. Happy, normal children. It was after dark, but Melody had adopted a vampire lifestyle to nanny the boys. Grace’s parents watched from the front stoop, their smiles wide.
Zoey shoved away the wistful feeling that threatened to plague her.
She nudged Creed. “I’m gonna tell Melody you spy on her.”
Creed shuddered and shook his head. “I will hunt you down and decapitate you before the words leave your mouth. That girl doesn’t need any more fodder to crush on me.” He pointed to a greeting card thrown on top of a stack of papers. “She even sent me a thank-you card for rescuing her when we saved Grace from Rourke’s brother. It had little hearts on it.”
Yet, Creed had held onto it. Zoey nearly chuckled until she remembered Melody was human and it’d only mean heartbreak for the girl and Creed.
Although being an immortal didn’t promise a long and happy life. Sometimes it meant a long life to live with regrets.
“I’m showing you this because I see nothing.” Creed switched back to the original topic. “But if you’re being targeted to get close to Stryke, those close to you may be targeted to get to you.”
Zoey’s phone buzzed with a message from Demetrius. Ready?
The reason for the rest of her tangled nerves. They had decided to go to the Synod about what was going on with Stryke. Her guts roiled. She couldn’t lose this position, she couldn’t. Her fellow leaders would have to understand. She tried to feel hatred for Stryke, but it just stirred up memories of losing Mitchell.
Only desperation pinged around her insides.
Chapter Six
Stryke reclined against the tree trunk that’d been his post for more hours than he could count. It was his second day on watch. Cold winter air didn’t bother him and he wore nothing but black jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt. A black baseball hat concealed his horns and the ensemble gave him a little thug appeal but he could still walk around without attracting too much attention.
He wore no guns or knives, unlike the vampires. His claws, fangs, and energy were his weapons.
He sensed Zoey in the compound, but she was probably asleep. After his dream visit, he’d hunkered down in the trees and guarded her all day and through the night—after he and Lee had gone on a shopping spree. In the middle of the night, she and Demetrius had stepped outside, she’d glanced into the trees in his direction, and they’d flashed somewhere. Stryke had been tempted to follow, but she hadn’t been roaming the realm alone.
When the vampires had returned, Zoey had stormed into the compound without a backward glance. Demetrius had stared at the gray concrete walls with his hands on his hips for a minute before following her inside.
Stryke could guess they’d had a Synod meeting and it hadn’t gone well. Because of him?
He’d dozed, resting against the tree, for the rest of the night, but he couldn’t escape the feeling of foreboding. Hypna wouldn’t sit on her rage forever.
Daytime would be the most critical for Zoey. The vampires could defend the compound, but except for Bishop with his demon blood, the rest of them would fry in daylight. So Stryke waited.
His senses tingled at a higher level than normal. There were always demons of various levels roaming Freemont, but a group was getting closer to the compound.
Stryke pushed off the tree and glided through the woods. Any others wouldn’t be able to sense him that easily, and he wore dark clothing that’d blend in with the shadows cast from the sun. Not much snow had made it through the trees to the forest floor so he didn’t worry about leaving prints.
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