“Eat,” he ordered.
She stared at him, stunned, though she shouldn’t have been. She’d already worked out the guy was a control freak. He stared back until she could no longer bear it.
“Bossy,” she mumbled.
His lips quirked on one side, not quite a grin, but close. He didn’t say anymore, simply held the fork to her mouth and waited. She was hungry and the chicken looked good, so she ignored her ire at the order and opened her mouth. He fed her like that, his gaze getting darker and hungrier with every bite she took, and she didn’t think it was for the food.
By the time the plate was empty her heart was pounding hard and she was light-headed. He lifted the plate from her lap and placed it on the table.
Covered in blankets, she was utterly decent, but as his gaze moved over her face and traveled the length of her body, she swore she felt the path of his stare heating her skin.
He stood suddenly. “Try to stay awake and I’ll run you a bath.”
That sounded wonderful. The bathroom was off to the right, and Lazarus went and got the water running, then he walked back out, came around to her side of the bed, and without warning, threw back the covers.
Eve squeaked in surprise.
Lazarus paused, eyes fixed on the parts of her he’d just exposed. The shirt she wore had ridden up past her hips, and she grabbed for the blankets, but his big hand shot out, stopping her.
“What are you doing?” she said, voice shaky.
She hated her thighs and ass and right then it was all hanging out for Lazarus to see. Plus, the way he was looking at her was freaking her the hell out.
He didn’t respond. His gaze locked on the birthmark on her hip, half concealed by the edge of her panties. A thick finger grazed her waist then slipped under the elastic, easing down the side of her underwear to reveal the strawberry mark.
“You always had this?”
“Yes.” Her heart skipped a beat.
He didn’t say any more, but slid an arm under her knees and one behind her back and scooped her up, carrying her again. Mortified, she tried to protest. “Please put me down. I can walk. I’m too heavy.”
He snorted and completely ignored her. She had no option but to hold on and let him carry her. He strode into the bathroom, lowered her to her feet, then bent over the bath. He turned off the water and tested the temperature. When he turned back he reached for the hem of the T-shirt she wore and started to lift it.
She grabbed his wrists. “What are you doing?”
“You can’t take a bath in your clothes, right?” He started to lift the faded gray tee past her hips.
She stopped him again. “I’m not getting naked in front of you.”
He grinned. A full-on wolfish grin that flashed straight white teeth and a sexy dimple in his right cheek. She felt it in her lower belly, and that throb between her thighs increased alarmingly. His harsh features softened when he smiled.
“You’re injured, Eve. I promise I won’t look if it makes you uncomfortable.”
Dammit. She needed help; there was no way she could lift it over her head on her own. “You can help with the shirt, but you have to close your eyes.”
His grin widened, but he did as she asked. And she got mad at herself because all she could think about was how long and dark his eyelashes were resting on his tanned skin.
It took a couple of tries, but after some careful maneuvering, he got her injured arm free. A warm hand moved to her bare back as he lifted the shirt the rest of the way over her head, causing her to stumble forward. Her chest collided with his, crushing her breasts against his body. Her nipples hardened from the contact. She blushed, mortified.
Lazarus sucked in a sharp breath, which meant, yep, he felt it.
Thank God his eyes were still closed.
“You good from here?” he rasped, taking an abrupt step back.
“Yes…thank you.”
“I’ll be in the other room if you”—he cleared his throat—“if you need anything.” He spun around, almost crashing into the wall. He quickly sidestepped, strode out, and shut the door behind him.
Eve didn’t linger in the bath long. She managed to dry herself and, with some contorting, put on the clean shirt he’d left for her by herself. Another one of his shirts. It was oversized, like the man himself, and soft. She could smell him on it.
God, that scent of his, it did things to her.
When she walked out, he was sitting on the bed, his bare feet crossed at the ankle, his back against the headboard. He was working on a laptop.
He glanced up from what he was doing when she shut the bathroom door behind her. His eyes slid down to the shirt she wore, and his eyes flared. She wanted to yank it down to cover her fat thighs, but her arms were crossed over her chest, covering her nipples.
Where the heck were her clothes?
“Get into bed, Eve.”
She swallowed hard, unable to make her feet move. “Hmm?”
“You need to rest. We have to be up early in the morning.” He flicked back the sheet on the other side of the bed and turned back to what he was doing on the computer.
Now she was more alert, not so drowsy, it felt extremely weird getting into his bed, especially when he was sitting on it. They’d shared that one kiss. Maybe it was nothing. Lazarus hadn’t mentioned it again. But it was all she could think about, especially now she was about to crawl back into his bed.
Still, she did as he said, because what choice did she have?
How the hell could she sleep with him right beside her?
He sat on top of the quilt, wasn’t even touching her, but his presence sat heavy in the room and again made her body react in ways she didn’t want it to.
She climbed in, pulling the covers over her. He didn’t say anything for the longest time. Maybe he thought she’d gone to sleep.
Finally, the bed shifted when he got up, followed by the sound of the laptop being placed on the bedside table. There was a rustle of clothing and she stiffened.
Was he going to get in with her, sleep under the covers with her?
“Ah, Lazarus…” She turned to face him. He stood by the bed, and the drawer in the side table was open. He had his shirt off and was wearing some kind of leather holster strapped across his chest. He pulled out one knife after another, strapping them to his ripped chest and thighs.
“I have to go out for a while.”
His words registered, and she lurched into a sitting position, gasping when she put weight on her arm.
He quickly tugged on a shirt, and came around to her side of the bed, sitting down beside her. He reached for her, taking her wrist, moving his thumb idly back and forth across the pulse there. She couldn’t take her eyes off the wicked-looking blades strapped to his large body.
“Eve…”
“You’re leaving?” God, she hated the desperate, needy note to her voice.
“I’ll be back before you wake, and James is just through that door if you need anything.” He pointed to the door that led to the living room. “As long as you stay in my quarters you’re in no danger. Do you understand?”
She didn’t want him to leave, she wanted to go with him, but instead she nodded.
He watched her for several silent seconds. “Good, that’s good.” He didn’t take his hand from her wrist, kept on brushing his thumb over her skin, and whispered, “Sleep, Eve.”
The last thing she remembered thinking was how good he smelled.
Chapter 11
The tiny shop was painted black, with cursive script painted on a sign above the door. The Cauldron. Not very original, but that wasn’t what Willow had been going for. The witch sold harmless love potions and other concoctions to humans to make a living, but what they didn’t know was she was the real deal and most powerful witch in New York. It was one of her spells that warded their compound. She’d helped them out, which meant she was under their protection, not that she needed it. The woman had her shop warded just as strongly.
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br /> “She say what this was about?” Lazarus asked Chaos.
The fighter shook his head. “She didn’t go into details.”
Willow had no room for a man in her life—her words—but she did take lovers, Chaos being one of them on occasion. Which suited him just fine, saved him from actually having to go out and be civil to another being, and God forbid he was forced to have a conversation with a woman. The male was efficient in all things. Even finding partners to bed.
He knocked and the door opened a few seconds later. Willow looked pissed off, her red hair wild around her face, eyes flashing, and she tilted her head for them to follow. “The back room.”
“What happened?” Chaos asked as they strode after her, their shoulders too wide for the tiny hall, forcing them to turn side on.
“This.” She gripped the door handle to her storage room and shoved it open.
“Jesus,” Chaos muttered.
Lazarus took in the scene. A demon of unknown breed lay motionless on the floor. Well, its body was at one end and its head was on the opposite side.
“How did it get in here?” Laz asked.
Willow kicked the lifeless demon. “That’s what I’d like to know.” She turned to them and he was sure he could see flames in her eyes. “Somehow this piece of shit got in. Now I’m going to be up all night strengthening my wards. Do you have any idea how long that takes?”
Lazarus shook his head.
“What did it want?” Chaos asked.
“There were two.” She motioned to a broken window. “The other one got out through there when I was dealing with this one.” She pointed to an empty spot on her shelf. “It took something of mine.”
Chaos stiffened. “What the hell did it take?”
Her back straightened. “The finger bone of Golath.”
“His what?” Chaos growled.
“Finger bone,” Willow bit out.
“You had part of fucking Golath and never thought to tell us?”
The ancient demon was the first ever created by Lucifer, and it was his blood Lucifer used to create his handmaids, before the demon betrayed his master and escaped to Earth thousands of years ago.
The story goes that weeks after he escaped, overwhelmed with hunger, the demon killed a group of children, gorging himself on them, then found a cave to rest in. The townspeople tracked him with the help of a witch, and she slaughtered him while he slept. She cut him into pieces and fed him to her pigs so he couldn’t be brought back to life.
It was said, but had never been proven, that those bones and where they lay were the location and the catalyst that caused the creation of the portal, the gate to Hell that opened on the equinox and the knights protected.
“How much power does that thing have?” Chaos gritted out.
Willow paced away and back. “A lot. More than your average lowly demon would know what to do with…more than most witches could handle.” She thrust her fingers in her hair. “Shit!”
“You didn’t think to put the fucking bone somewhere more secure?” Chaos growled.
Her back straightened and her eyes flashed. “No one has ever gotten through my wards before.”
Lazarus rubbed his temples, his damn head pounding. “Golath was a demon. Why didn’t he ash out when he died?”
Willow tapped the demon corpse at her feet with the tip of her boot. “Same reason this fucker is still messing up my floor: a binding spell. He won’t be going back to Hell the old-fashioned way. I’ll harvest every part of this asshole. There are plenty of things he’ll be useful for.”
“So they’re true, the stories?”
She nodded.
“And this witch, she kept Golath’s finger?”
Willow drew in a shuddery breath. “I’m a descendant from her line. It was passed down to me by my mother. It’s been in this family for thousands of years…and now I’ve…I’ve lost it.”
“What would a demon want with it now?” Lazarus asked.
Willow looked at the empty space on her shelf, pain etched on her features, then she turned to them and shook her head. “Nothing good.”
Fuck.
They left Willow’s shop and walked out onto the street. And a familiar tingle crawled up Lazarus’s spine instantly. Demon.
“Duck!” someone called from across the street.
A second later an arrow whistled past Chaos, narrowly missing him.
A cry rang out and they spun in time to see a demon drop to the ground behind them.
Lazarus stared down at the flailing demon. “What the fuck?”
The dark figure who had called out the warning, crossbow still in hand, spun and ran off.
Chaos tore off his shirt and extended his wings. “I’ll try and catch up with them.”
“I’m right behind you,” Lazarus said. He quickly removed the demon’s head so it would ash out, and then took flight.
Lazarus didn’t go to his apartment when they returned to the compound, unsuccessful in their search for the owner of that arrow. Which had pissed them both off. Something fucked up was going on and they needed to work out what. Or at least his brothers did. He had his own mission.
Tobias.
Head swimming after their search, he’d gone to the gym and trained until he could barely stand then collapsed on one of the couches in the common room. He barely slept because, like every night since Eve got there, since she came into her powers and he discovered her existence, he felt her like a throbbing beat in the center of his chest, beating through his veins, pounding in his head and his gut. And yeah, he knew the only way to stop it was to go to her, to make her his.
“Fuck.” He shoved up from the couch and went back to the workout room. The equinox was here. They’d go out tonight, and he planned on avoiding Eve for as long as possible. If he went back to his rooms and looked at her in his bed, those big blue eyes on him full of questions, he’d crack, he’d fucking shatter. He’d fall on her like a starving man.
After the fight was over later tonight, after he’d worked off all the volatile energy pounding though him, he’d do it. He’d go to her and tell her the truth.
The distant wailing of sirens and the low, steady thump of bass from the surrounding bars and clubs echoed off the walls around them.
The alley was free of the homeless, and no drunken couples were stumbling down there in search of privacy. No, evil permeated this place. Its sickly malevolence coated everything like toxic sludge, ensuring every living thing gave it a wide berth. Even the rats had scattered.
Humans continued to move about their lives, ignorant of what was about to invade their world.
Lazarus stood silently with his brothers, each male focused on the red brick wall ahead of them—but all he could see was a sleeping Eve. He’d caved and gone to check on her before they headed out. She’d been curled up in his bed, in one of his shirts.
Shit. She wasn’t even there in the alley with him and she affected him, weakened him, caused him to lose focus.
The males at his side were subdued, feeling Gunner’s absence as strongly as he was. Gunner had been too unstable to join them. No one knew why it was hitting him as hard as it was, and it made an already shitty situation worse. To his left, Rocco bounced on the balls of his feet, twirling his blades, twitchy, spoiling for a fight. Chaos stood a little in front, legs braced apart, unmoving, alert. His short sword hung loose at his side. Kryos stood to Laz’s right, throwing knives strapped to his bare chest and a Glock fitted with a silencer rested in his hand.
And as always, Zenon stood apart. Concealed by shadow, his wide shoulders hunched, ready to charge ahead at any moment. His hair hung forward, concealing the brand on his face, and his Li Kweis, the twin axes he preferred to fight with, were strapped to his back on either side of his leathery wings. His short sword was strapped to his thigh, like the rest of them.
He was one of them, their brother, but Zenon had chosen to keep that distance between them. Lazarus knew it was because, unlike the rest of them wh
o had been raised on Earth, sired by Kishi males and birthed by fallen females, Zenon was Hell born, sired by an unknown fallen male to a Kishi female. He hadn’t trained with them, and no one had known of his existence until he’d stepped through the portal. He was a genetic fluke, but he was as much a knight as the rest of them.
If only he realized that.
Lazarus gripped his own blade tighter—several more strapped to his chest and thighs—and waited.
Their powers were useless this close to the hell’s gate, the gateway to Hell that popped up during the solstice and equinox, spewing out its inhabitants. As far as they knew this was the only portal. And the knights had been providing a welcome party for the demons that came through for centuries.
Some demons left out of curiosity, some to wreak havoc. Others escaped to beg for sanctuary, but most were sent by Diemos, the sick, twisted head asshole of Hell, in his never-ending attempt to grow an army here on Earth. Preparing for the day that he found a way to open the portals for good.
Roc’s boots crunched on the loose asphalt as he moved restlessly. “I wish they’d hurry the fuck up. I wanna slice into someone already.” He faced the rest of them. “What do you think the chances are of T showing up?”
“He knows how bad we want him. He won’t risk facing us all together,” Chaos said without looking back. “He’ll stay where he is. He knows Laz is coming for him which is exactly what he wants.”
Kryos shook his head. “It still feels weird, y’know? T not standing with us.”
“He made his choice,” Roc snarled.
“We haven’t suffered the loss of a mate. We don’t know how we’d react.” They all shut up at Kryos’s quiet reply.
Then Zenon’s eerie soft voice drifted from the shadows. “I don’t plan on finding out.”
Lazarus turned to him. “That’s not a choice you get to make, brother.”
Zenon reached back and drew his axes, shrugging his big shoulders. “I’m not like you.”
Laz didn’t get the chance to ask what he meant by that, because the wall ahead shimmered, a ripple of golden light moving across the surface like the brick was liquefying before their eyes. He tensed as five demons of varying breeds stepped through the activated hell’s gate. Their hungry gazes darted around, searching for an opening.
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