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Demons Undone: The Sons of Gulielmus Series

Page 20

by Holley Trent


  After that, they’d tried to reprogram her, but she was immune to that stuff. She’d always been a secret skeptic, unlike her vocal brother John. She, however, had had no choice but to toe the line, because she was just a woman with no education. If she were thrown out, who would want her? Who’d hire her?

  No one.

  She blew out a breath and let her gaze drift to the framed picture next to the computer.

  A trio of baseball players in pinstriped uniforms embraced and mugged for the camera. Calvin, at the far right, looked to be in his early twenties. The good looks were there, but the weariness that now resided at the corners of his eyes hadn’t settled in yet. She didn’t understand the man one bit, but really, she didn’t see all that much of him. Sometimes, she had to track him down to ask him to give her something to do—anything to do. She was going stir-crazy, and couldn’t even risk stepping off the porch for fear her brothers weren’t done burying the additional mojo bags.

  Calvin would give her some small thing to do, like organizing his socks, and then he’d disappear into the woods to throw baseballs. She spent most nights curled up on the guestroom bed, scrolling through the cable television offerings and trying to make sense of the world she’d never known.

  What had made Calvin so tired? He couldn’t possibly want for anything, living in a place so grand. The house she’d lived in back in the compound had been large, but her stepfather had a merry-go-round of wives to shelter. Besides, that place had been no-frills and uncomfortable. Didn’t even have plumbed bathrooms.

  Did he miss baseball, maybe? His friends?

  Did he even have friends? None had certainly come by since she’d been there.

  She pulled the frame closer and tipped it back to remove the glare. His number was 28. He played for some team called the Land Sharks.

  Maybe good-looking was an understatement. He’d, literally, taken her breath away when he opened his front door. He was nearly sinful to look at. His hair was so dark it was nearly black, and he wore it a little long, but not nearly as long as Charles. (Her brother should have bought stock in ponytail elastics.) Calvin had marvelous hazel eyes, though one looked a little darker than the other; that’s why she’d stared that day on the porch. His lips always seemed to be on the cusp of either a grin or a smirk, and she wasn’t sure which she liked more. Even if he was teasing her, it was okay, because it meant he’d smile.

  Forgetting the fan mail, she tapped the right arrow key and moved the cursor until a folder named PHOTOS highlighted. She wanted to see more Calvin—wanted a chance to stare at him, memorize him, without one of those dark eyebrows arching up at her. She was about to press the enter key when Calvin stepped into the office doorway and crossed his arms.

  She dropped her hands to her lap guiltily.

  “If you want to go shopping or something, get you some shirts that don’t have Calvin Wolff taint, I can call you a cab.”

  She looked down at the red and blue plaid and hooked her fingers beneath the hem. She’d been wearing it over her blouses and dresses pretty much everyday because it was warm. Seemed part of her uniform now, and she’d be sad to give it up even if it didn’t smell like Calvin anymore. “You want your shirt back?”

  “I’ve got lots of shirts. Clean ones, too, thanks to you. You don’t need to iron them, by the way.” He stepped into the room, leisurely, and stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. “Ironing’s for fancy people.”

  “I iron my clothes.”

  He nodded. “Fancy.”

  “Fancy and insane?”

  The slow smile that had been spreading on his lips faltered.

  “I-I guess I can’t blame you. Sounds crazy, right? Succubus?” She thought maybe he’d soften to the idea a bit if she made it a joke. Neither of them had broached the topic in two weeks, but to Julia, it’d always felt like the elephant in the room.

  He nodded again, and hooked a thumb toward the living room. “Why don’t you take a break? Bloodsport is on. Everyone should see it once.”

  “I ain’t your pal, dickface.”

  He raised both of those expressive eyebrows. “You’ve already seen it?”

  “It came on my favorite channel last night, last thing before the infomercials started.”

  “Infomercials start at 3:00 a.m.”

  She shrugged.

  “Can’t sleep?”

  How could she, when every time she closed her eyes, her thoughts flooded with Calvin?

  He eased around to the back of the desk and leaned his butt against the edge. “Haven’t been sleeping so great, myself.”

  She knew. She’d heard the tossing and turning across the hall. The pacing.

  “Almost forgot. Package came for you. It’s on the table with the rest of today’s mail.”

  Finally! Claude had said he was going to get her some protective charms, so maybe that was it. She pushed back from the desk and stood. She’d taken one step toward the door when Calvin reached his arms around her waist and pulled her in close.

  Her breath seized as she scanned up his chest to the eyes that seemed to take on an unusual yellow cast all of a sudden.

  People didn’t come with eyes that color, but maybe demons did. If Claude could have red, why couldn’t …

  She thought her heart was going to pound right out of her chest. No. He can’t be. I would know it if he were, wouldn’t I?

  That would certainly explain all the spine prickling and goosebumps when he was near. Maybe he was hiding from someone, too.

  “Why do you wear your hair like that?”

  His deep voice was like a clarion, pulling her free of her thoughts. Her hand went to her braided bun and patted it. “My hair?”

  “Mm-hmm. Style is out of place in the current century.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  He worked his fingers into her bun and pulled pin after pin until her heavy braid fell to her rear. Then he went to work loosing the other braid.

  Guess that meant no.

  “Back at the compound, when girls turn a certain age, we had to put our hair up so we didn’t scandalize the old men.”

  He spilled the stolen bobby pins onto the desk and fixed her in his golden stare. “See any old men here, honey?”

  She couldn’t speak. She was absolutely pinned in his gaze as he separated her plaits, seduced by his large, but gentle, fingers arranging her just so. The fact that he had a preference about her looks at all made her face burn hot. “No. No old men here.”

  That sound came from his throat—the one she’d thought was just his tic, a need to constantly clear his throat, but being up close she realized now it wasn’t that. It was more like a growl, but things that growled didn’t look at people with such tenderness. Things that growled generally wanted to eat you.

  He dragged his thumb pads lightly along her jaw and tipped her chin up. “You gotta work a lot harder to scandalize me.”

  “Okay. I’ll work har—”

  His lips against hers muffled her words.

  She stood there, eyes wide, with her toes rooted to the floor unmoving for a few seconds, and then he tightened his hold on her. Deepened his kiss.

  She closed her eyes, and was overcome by the symphony of sensations. His tongue tasted of black coffee. His clothes and skin smelled of the woods he kept escaping into. He held one hand at the back of her head and the other on her ass, holding her just where he wanted her, so close to him she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d scandalized him after all.

  No old men, here.

  She gasped when his sharp teeth nipped at her bottom lip, not from pain, but pleasure. Still, he took a step back, his eyes had gone back to their familiar hazel, and his expression was penitent.

  “Calvin—”

  He took another step back. “That won’t happen again. I promise.”

  Well, she wasn’t going to pretend it didn’t happen. She liked being in Calvin Wolff’s embrace. She’d felt safe, and wanted. More importantly, she’d wanted him, too. Sh
e’d never wanted anyone as much.

  Charles had been right.

  Calvin strode from the room without looking back. The front door slammed, and she was at the window in time to see a coatless Calvin running into the woods as if he had Satan at his back.

  Well, maybe he kind of did. If she were him, she might run, too.

  Chapter Five

  “Calvin, you can’t survive on delivery meals, and neither can I. I’d like a fresh vegetable every now and then.” Julia fondled the odd amulet dangling between her breasts and stared at her sneakers.

  She wouldn’t even look at him, and hadn’t since he’d stolen that kiss. He wish he could say his wolf made him do it, but the man part of him wanted it just as much. She was crazy, but she was obviously his. Maybe a girl would have to be a special kind of cuckoo to put up with his shit.

  She just hovered around, working in a quiet efficiency. Feeding him, cleaning up his messes, answering his fan mail in that cheerfully naïve way she did. She actually thought the “F” in “Calvin F. Wolff” was his real initial.

  Everyone knew the “F” stood for “Fucking.”

  She didn’t seem to know anything about him, really, and he’d kept poking. Kept asking. She hadn’t even thought to Google his sorry ass. She was so stinkin’ cute. Sometimes he went out into the woods to pitch baseballs through the trees just to see how far they’d go before he struck one. He had no shortage of baseballs, but every morning, he’d find a basket of the retrieved balls on the porch. She’d go out and gather them like Easter eggs when he wasn’t looking.

  “If you want to go out, Julia, you have my blessing. I’ll call you a cab.”

  “Why can’t you take me?”

  Hell, he’d love to take her, just to make sure some other wolf didn’t like what he sniffed too much. The only thing he went out for lately was beer, and that was just because the lady who owned the nearby booze shack was his cousin Deenie. He could growl all he wanted at Deenie, and the worst that would happen would be she’d whack him on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper like she did all the cranky unmated wolves.

  “I just can’t, honey.” He closed the e-mail from his hound dog of an agent, and sighed. There were a lot of fucking digits in that signing offer. He wouldn’t even have to try out, that’s how bad they wanted him, and they wanted him now. Season was about to start. “Wish I could.”

  “Explain to me why you can’t. Afraid you’ll run into a fan?”

  “Fans are the least of my problems.”

  “Then what?”

  He sighed and pushed back from the desk. “Why are you so insistent? If you’re worried about getting lost, I’ll make sure the driver gets you there and back okay. You’re going to have to learn your way around eventually.”

  “I want you to teach me. Go with me. Show me what you like, so I can cook it.”

  He’d eat anything she cooked him. Wolves were gracious that way. Your mate cooks? You eat that shit.

  “Surprise me,” he said. “I’m not as picky as you’d think.”

  “I … ” She toyed with the end of her single, long braid, still staring at the floor. “I’m scared to go out without you.”

  He felt his gut drop to his feet. He wanted to be soft and give her the moon, if he could, but that wasn’t possible. “Well, that’s a problem, because if I go out, it may be me being the one scaring people.”

  She looked up now, and anger flashed in those bright eyes. “If you don’t want to be seen with me, you don’t have to make up stupid excuses.”

  Seen with her? What? “It’s not an excuse, Julia. You need to understand that—”

  “That what? Go on. Lie to me. Let me hear your best.”

  His jaw flapped a few beats, and then he shut it. Yeah, he was going to lie. What else could he do? What would he say? “Oh, by the way, my last name is Wolff because I am one. Please pass the sugar.”

  “I just can’t.”

  “I see. Well. I can’t stay here all the time, and if you won’t take me, I’ll find my own way.”

  “I offered to call you a cab, honey.”

  “To hell with your cab.”

  She closed her eyes, balled her fists at her sides, and suddenly the energy in the room crackled and spiked.

  It felt like magic, but she wasn’t a witch. He knew witches. Had dated one once. Julia was …

  Wait. What had she said? Demon spawn.

  With a loud grunt of frustration, she vanished from sight.

  He bolted to his feet and ran to the middle of his room, looking around. “Great googly moogly, what the snot just happened?”

  Where’d his girl go?

  • • •

  When Julia opened her eyes again, she didn’t know where she was. She was in an alleyway somewhere in a bustling city. It stank of human excrement and garbage, and she didn’t intend to stay. “Oh, God. Bad idea.” She was so unfocused with this skill, but until recently, she didn’t know she’d had it. John had it. She’d tried it, too, and it’d worked. Now her problem was that she really had nowhere else to go. She hadn’t thought that through before she popped out of Calvin’s house.

  She closed her eyes tight once more, and this time imagined the pattern of the rug in his office, and wished herself back to it.

  She hit the floor hard on her side, and through blurry vision, saw the bright red and yellow threads of the carpet and the toes of Calvin’s socks. She heard him say, “Shit. Hold on there, Julia. Try to keep your eyes open.”

  She passed out.

  • • •

  “Come on, Julia, open your eyes.”

  Great. Calvin knew his stupid tongue and his stupid brain would get him into trouble some day, and looked like he’d found it.

  He cradled the unconscious woman in his arms and rocked her.

  Her skin was clammy, and her breathing was thready. Briefly, he pondered dialing 9-1-1, but what would he say? He could hardly believe it himself, and maybe he still didn’t know what all was going on. Okay. Demon spawn. Sure. He’d wrap his mind around that eventually, but shit! Demons could teleport? Neat trick. What he did know, though, was that a gift had walked right onto his doorstep wanting nothing but to be safe, and maybe a bit of companionship, and he’d turned on that patented Wolff cynicism that always kept people at arm’s-length.

  How could he have known? People like her weren’t supposed to exist. But, then again, people like him weren’t supposed to exist, either.

  He held her a little closer and brushed his lips across her forehead. “Julia,” he whispered. “Come on out. I won’t upset you again, I promise. You in there?”

  The proximity alarm linked to his computer went off, and he ignored it. It was probably just a deer. Whatever it was, he’d look at the video later.

  “Julia,” he whispered again, and rubbed her side with his free right hand.

  She stirred. Her forehead scrunched, and eyelids fluttered, then opened all the way.

  “There you are. Where’d you go, huh?”

  Her bright eyes went round. She pulled herself upright and backed away from him.

  “Slow down. You fell pretty hard. Just stay still.”

  Her face blanched, lips parted as she scooted back more.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She scrambled to her feet and ran for the door.

  He followed her, narrowly dodging the flannel shirt she tossed behind her as she streaked through the living room.

  She was out the front door before he could beg her to stay. He wanted her to stay.

  “Julia, wait!”

  The screen door banged shut, and he ran toward it, remembering at the last minute that the ground was cold and he wore no shoes.

  “Wait,” he yelled out the door, but she was gone. Her blonde head disappeared into the trees, and at most, he had thirty seconds to catch up to her before she’d be too far to find. He’d probably already lost his chance, but all the same he ran into the office and jammed his feet into his tennis shoes. Passing by th
e computer, he paused to study the curious video feed stills on his monitor.

  “What the hell is that?” He squinted at the blurry thing while tying his shoe.

  Wasn’t a deer or a local cat, but it was big.

  On the way out the front door, he grabbed his shotgun just in case, and pushed his body to run faster than it had since he’d been forced to leave baseball.

  “Julia!” he called out, scanning the woods systematically as he ran, looking both for her bright hair and that white shirt, and seeking out predatory beasts that would do her harm.

  How far could she get in those cheap canvas flats she was wearing? She could probably feel every twig and pebble underfoot.

  Head toward the driveway, his instincts told him, so he cut left and ran toward the asphalt.

  There she was, coming out of the woods about twenty meters ahead of him.

  “Honey, slow down. Come back to the house with me, and let’s talk this out. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. Come on. Put yourself in my shoes.”

  She was nearly at the road. If she got to the road, she could flag down a car for a ride, and there he’d be waving a big gun like a homicidal maniac.

  Shit.

  He uncocked the gun and threw it down into a patch of brush.

  Julia’s scream pealed through the woods, and Calvin saw the dark streak he’d seen on the video blocking her path, and hissing.

  What was that thing? It looked like some cross between cat and lizard: hairless, earless, and having fangs that went on for days. Its tail thrashed as it circled around her.

  “Don’t come closer. I think it wants me, not you,” she yelled.

  Like hell he was going to let it have her. This was his land, and he didn’t appreciate his guests becoming lunch.

  He forced one more burst of speed, and along with it came the hot searing pain.

  Colors muted, his hearing sharpened, and four feet struck the ground instead of two.

  He took a flying leap and clamped his jaws around the ugly thing’s neck, but it fought back, trying to knock him off.

  Vaguely, Calvin registered a man’s voice saying, “Shit, it got in before we got the last mojo bag buried. Pop sends these beasts out when he can’t find us. It’s looking for me. Pop summoned me yesterday and I ignored him.”

 

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