Demon Ryder

by Hunter, Tamara

  Camille held her breath as a big male wearing a tan t-shirt with the word “owner” scrawled in bold purple print hurried over to her. Like all the others, his skin was a swirling mix of red and black. Four horns perched atop his head gleamed like polished ebony spheres sprouting up from the slick cap of black hair covering his head. She noted all the males possessed the same number of vertical projections.

  “Camille, right? Silver described you perfectly.” Conversation erupted again when she wasn’t immediately thrown out the door.

  She breathed a sigh of relief her boss had notified the owner of her arrival. “And you are?”

  “Name’s Moloch, but everyone calls me Mo. The one I contacted Silver about is at the bar. He came in about five minutes ago. Dude has a shifty-eyed look about him.”

  She nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “I only have one caveat – keep any destruction to a minimum.”

  “Mo, got a delivery mix-up in the back!” Someone shouted from the kitchen, at least that’s what she judged it to be by the rattling of pans.

  “Give me a sec!” Moloch yelled, his eyes never leaving hers. “You working alone?”

  “Yes. Before becoming an agent with Galactic, I was an officer with the Chicago Police.”

  “CPD, really?” Disbelief crossed his face.

  She didn’t need to read his thoughts to understand he worried about her abilities. She chuckled. “Trust me, I’m good at my job.”

  “Hope so, lady.” He pivoted and headed toward the kitchen.

  She watched until he disappeared from view then shifted her attention to the bar. An elaborate drawing of circles interspersed with symbols on a black velvet background hung above the rows of bottled liquids.

  Camille squared her shoulders as she surveyed the seated males. Her gaze landed on the back of a well-worn black leather jacket bearing a replica of the drawing above the bar. Encased in faded jeans, the man’s muscular thighs straddled a stool. Waves of sexual energy wafted from him. The air in the bar changed, becoming hotter the longer she watched him.

  With arms hairier than any man, a female demon wearing a pink mini dress with her breasts in imminent danger of escaping confinement, sidled up to him. Giving him a smile, she ran her hands over his head, her fingers stroking the strands of black hair with familiarity. With the lusty pheromones he threw off, the guy clearly had no problems snaring females.

  Camille dated occasionally, but once guys discovered her occupation they seemed hell-bent on trying to prove they could best her at something, anything. And the one or two uniforms she’d gone out with didn’t view her as an equal. Gut instinct told her this man would have no problem at all with the fact she was more than capable of taking care of herself.

  As if sensing her perusal, he glanced over his shoulder, giving her a glimpse of high cheekbones. His eyes were concealed behind aviator shades, which looked vaguely familiar.

  Normally, she abhorred men sizing her up as if she were a piece of chocolate candy to gobble up, but this man exuded the aura of one who knew a delectable was meant to be savored. If he removed the glasses, she’d probably combust from the heat of his stare. He licked his lips and nodded before turning away.

  She inwardly gasped at the rush of desire in response to the action. Maybe she should hang out down here on her days off. Clearly, she was missing out. She shook off the enveloping haze of arousal as she put the sexy, enigmatic stranger out of her thoughts.

  Camille slid onto an empty bar stool. Where the bar owner was gigantic, the body occupying the stool to her right appeared emaciated, damn near skeletal. A white loincloth was his only clothing. Or rather, it probably used to be white. Now, it was more a dusty beige. Judging from the way his clawed feet didn’t reach the rungs, she surmised he stood shorter than her own five foot six.

  Muttering, he squirmed on the stool. Because he didn’t possess a transmutalyzer, his words proved incomprehensible. He hadn’t entered the Milky Way Galaxy via proper channels, otherwise he’d be in possession of the government-issued translation device. Thinner than a credit card and the length of a stick of gum, the device was required to be on an alien’s person while in the Galaxy.

  Camille centered her thoughts then slid into his mind. Instead of the orderly compartments and floating thoughts she was accustomed to, his thoughts crashed into one another like the waves of Lake Michigan during a thunderstorm. She slipped out. His thoughts weren’t any easier to understand than his words.

  The alien stared in her direction. Not even peach fuzz covered his wrinkled skin. His ears, pointed at the top gave his face a dog-like quality. The space between his eyes furrowed as his mouth opened, baring razor-sharp teeth, but only guttural grunts erupted from his throat.

  Camille hunched her shoulders and shook her head to indicate she didn’t understand. She touched his hand. The alien jerked his bony hand away, slid from the stool then dashed out the door.

  She sat, stunned. Had her touch hurt him in some way?

  Before she could rise to follow him, a shot glass careened toward her palm. She caught it then looked in the direction from where it came. The black, leather-wearing man saluted her. She sniffed the amber-colored liquid, smelling the fruity aroma of peach. She tasted it, instantly recognizing the sweetness of juice. She tilted the glass, sending the contents down her throat.

  “Damn!” She set the empty glass onto the surface with an audible clink that had several heads turning her way.

  From his perch several stools to her left, the man raised his bottle. “Didn’t want to presume you wanted one of these.” He replaced the bottle with a soft clink. “Sounds like you have problems.” The man’s voice was low, like a long rumble of thunder.

  “I do. So don’t add to them.”

  He held up his hands in surrender, causing the jacket to gap open and allowing an unfettered view of a white t-shirt-covered chest. “Not what I want at all. You’re new around here. Typically, that means trouble.”

  She’d heard that voice before. Ryder. “You’re the one who helped me earlier.” She relaxed, subtly brushing his mind with hers, trying to get a read on the guy.

  Instead of the usual tingle as her mind joined with another, she felt nothing. How was this possible? She’d never met anyone whose mind was closed to her own.

  He gave her a knowing look. “Am I out of your league, Officer?”

  Chapter Three

  Camille glanced at Ryder, still seated on the barstool. “It’s Agent.”

  She smothered a brief second of panic. She had no problems slipping into the minds of the other patrons. Why couldn’t she access his thoughts? Then again, just because he looked like a man, didn’t automatically mean he was a member of the human race.

  “First case, huh?”

  She frowned at the question full of typical male arrogance. “Why would you think that?”

  “You corrected me. Most old timers would’ve let their skills speak for themselves.”

  She swiveled the stool around to face him. Though he adopted a laid-back attitude, danger radiated off him in waves. The dark-lensed glasses resting on his chiseled nose intensified the belief she should keep him at arms’ length, but his full lips made her wonder how good a kisser he was.

  The realization of why she recognized the aviator frames hit her. “You’re part of the peacekeeping force down here.”

  “Deputy Chief Stevenson was right. You’re quite observant.”

  She lifted her brows in surprise. “How do you know my father?”

  “He keeps a photo of you on his desk.” The imposing man twisted his stool to face her with the toe of a black steel boot.

  She mentally calculated his shoe size. Impressive. Damn...too bad he was such an ass.

  His gaze bored into her. “The image doesn’t do you justice.”

  She shivered as Ryder appraised her from head to toe. Her breathing quickened and her skin tingled as if he’d actually reached out and stroked her. Though she couldn’t
stop the trill of delight coursing down her spine, she chose to ignore the compliment. Yet, she didn’t miss the fact he neglected to answer her question about his interest in her case.

  “Do you know where the alien may have gone?”

  He took a swig from his bottle then set it on the wood surface with a thunk. “This isn’t my scene to get involved in, Cam.”

  She blinked at his shortening of her name. “Don’t call me that!”

  “Why not?” Abandoning his stool, he prowled closer to slide onto the seat next to her. “Only friends and family receive that honor?”

  “At least people who are civilized enough to offer their last name,” she snapped.

  He grabbed her wrist, his long fingers encasing her skin. “Ryder Endemar.”

  A zing of awareness shot through her and her heart leapt in response. He had to be human to affect her in such a manner.

  She drew in a deep breath, hoping he didn’t notice her increased speed of breathing. Focus on the mission. “Let me go.” Why did her voice sound like a whisper?

  “You’re in my neighborhood, Princess, by your own choice. Who do you think’ll help you?” He nodded at the bartender. “Put her drink on my tab.”

  “You got it, Ryder.”

  He tightened his hold. Let’s go.”

  “I’m not leaving with you.” Camille jerked away. “You’re wasting my time if you can’t tell me where the alien went.”

  His square jaw tightened. “You sound very interested in what I know.”

  “Oh yeah,” she purred. “Definitely.”

  “Pity. ‘Cuz the alien probably won’t survive the night.”

  She glared at him. “Thanks for nothing.”

  He eased his grip, finally allowing her to move away. “I hope you make it out.” He turned away from her, making it clear the convo was over.

  Fuming at the lack of cooperation, she hopped down. She advanced several feet then stopped. Despite the fact he irritated her, she didn’t have many options and this was the second reference she’d received about not leaving Demopolis tonight.

  She stalked back to his side. As if he knew she would return, he swiveled on the stool to face her. Before she could speak, he shifted so his legs bracketed hers. The heat from his body warmed hers, but she wasn’t falling for his game. She was here to do a job, not be seduced.

  “Level with me. I’m a big girl.”

  He shook his head. “Definitely, not a girl. However, there’s an uneasy truce between demon factions. We’re seeing an increase of rogue behavior. It would behoove you to research where you’re working, Agent Stevenson.”

  Camille let her breath out in a soft whoosh. Alarm coursed through her, dulling the sting of his barb. How could the Agency not know? “I’ll be long gone before anything kicks off and I’ll have the alien with me.”

  He inclined his head. “Perhaps, but the border gates have been ordered to close by 7pm.”

  “By whose order?”

  “The Government’s.” He answered with a look that questioned her sanity.

  She glanced at the black clock hanging near a television. She swallowed. Four hours didn’t leave a lot of time to find the alien and convince him to leave with her.

  Ryder hooked his legs behind her knees and tugged her into the V created by his body. She caught a whiff of a woodsy scent and a flash of something purely masculine. She ignored the tingle of desire growing into an insistent drumbeat in the center of her being.

  Glancing around, she saw the smiles on the faces of the patrons. Great. They probably believed thought they watched a disagreement between lovers. She placed her palms against his chest. His biceps flexed as his large hands settled onto her hips and she struggled to keep him from pulling her even closer.

  “If you don’t make it out, I’ll let you spend the night with me.” He whispered the words, but each one fell like a boom of thunder against her ears.

  His body heat coated her. Every cell of her body screamed “yes,” but her mind fought through the mire of arousal. “No thanks. I’ll pass.”

  He chuckled as if aware of her internal struggle. “So you don’t need my help?”

  She lowered her hands to his knees, fighting the urge to explore his body. “You’re keeping me from doing my job.”

  He let her go so abruptly she fought to steady herself as coolness surrounded her instead of the mind-numbing warmth he’d generated.

  He’d never answered her question. “Are you after the alien too or just trolling for women?”

  Though she couldn’t see his eyes, she felt the heaviness of his scrutiny zeroing in on her mouth. “If it was a woman I wanted...trust me, you wouldn’t be walking out that door alone.” He grinned. “Don’t worry, Sugar, I do my part in making sure things stay quiet down here.”

  “Thanks.” For nothing. She turned her back to him, ordering her feet to head toward the door. Now why exactly did the news he wasn’t just looking for stray tail excite her? And why didn’t she tell him not to call her “Sugar”?

  “Agent Stevenson?”

  She stopped, turning slowly at the sexy baritone caressing her name like a hand stroking her hip.

  “Might help if you knew the alien’s name.”

  “How do you know it?”

  He shrugged. “Obtained a bit of intel here and there from the females.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Glad to know one-night stands still serve a purpose.”

  “Hazards of the job, right? Anyway, it’s all anyone knows down here.”

  She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not begging you for a name.” At the look of blatant desire on his face, her nipples tightened. She gritted her teeth in frustration at her inability to control her body’s reaction to him.

  “Pity.” He lowered a hand to the juncture of his jeans and she tracked the movement, eyes widening as his flesh brazenly hardened beneath the zipper. He adjusted himself. “I love the visual of you on your knees in front of me.”

  Swallowing a gasp, Camille turned away before wanton need showed on her face. Talking to the enigmatic, yet arresting, man was a waste of time.

  “Gizeel.” The name was uttered quietly, but Camille heard it before the door closed behind her with a bang.

  ****

  Lost in the fantasy of Camille’s delectable full lips pleasuring his cock, Ryder watched her until she left his line of vision. She was stubborn like her father, but his gut told him she wouldn’t appreciate the comparison. Ryder was equally certain the Deputy Chief didn’t want him sidetracked by the inviting sway of his daughter’s hips or the roundness of her bottom.

  He tilted his bottle, allowing the last of the amber-colored liquid to run down his throat. Camille Stevenson was a handful – one he wouldn’t mind having the pleasure of entertaining in his bed for more than one night. The empty bottle clanked against the bar’s surface.

  He’d seen the panic flare in her chocolate eyes when she discovered she couldn’t read his thoughts, but to her credit she said nothing. Without the amulet her father had given him, he would be at her mercy and she didn’t need to run around in his head. He carried enough secrets to bring down a small country.

  Ryder removed the medallion from beneath his t-shirt and put it in his jacket pocket. Hand still covering it, he focused, bringing Camille’s image to mind. Not only did it shield his thoughts from her, but the amulet allowed him to experience what she viewed as though he watched with his own eyes. Satisfied she remained in the designated safe area, he released the amulet, severing the connection.

  Mo wiped the counter in front of Ryder then tossed the dirty rag over his shoulder. “Do we need to be concerned?”

  “Not at the moment. She’s still in the safety zone and I didn’t sense any rogues in the vicinity.”

  “When does her father want an update?” Mo asked.

  “When’s she’s located the alien. Until then, we wait.”

  ****

  Camille hurried along the byway aided by fl
ashes of lights from various marquees. Was the Government interested in the unauthorized visitor as well? She peered through windows, but saw no sign of him. Damn it. She rubbed the back of her neck. He had to be around here somewhere.

  At the next byway, she turned left. A mound of garbage obscured her path and she rounded it, intent on finding Gizeel. Hearing a crunch beneath her shoes, she stopped. She clicked on her flashlight, directing the beam downward. She lifted her foot, exposing what appeared to be crushed bones. Animal or human? She backed away, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

  In the safety zone, there’d been noise, music, chatter. How far had she ventured? She glanced around the area.

  No neon lights. No sound, except her breathing. Instead of the dank odor of mildew, the stench of rotting garbage clung in the air like a persistent lover.

  Sudden darkness enveloped her like fast-moving fog, cloaking and overtaking the beam of the flashlight. What the – ? She couldn’t even ascertain if the thing were still on. It was as if she’d walked into a black hole with no way out.

  The drawing of a deep, raspy breath interrupted the stillness like the fateful beat of a drum. A growl echoed behind her as heavy footsteps approached.

  Heart racing, she glanced back, but the unfathomable darkness obscured everything. She couldn’t retrace her steps without confronting the demon.

  She couldn’t laser a shadow. Her powers were her only hope. She focused and entered its mind of the demon behind her. Using the full strength of her ability, she swiped its memory clean of any image of her. She prayed it was enough to deter him from continuing in her direction.

  She slipped from his mind. The footsteps behind her slowed, growing fainter until she didn’t hear them anymore.