Taken By Storm

by L. J. Vickery

  Dagon choked back an unbelieving bark of laughter. He refused to look down where his left shoulder pulsed in time to his heartbeats. No. This couldn’t be happening. His amulet was most certainly not warming to life.

  This girl, Holly Abelard, sister to Marduk’s Tess, was part of the enemy camp—whether she knew it or not. Dagon cursed, godsdammit! She was also—if his instincts weren’t playing tricks on him—the girl he’d been waiting centuries to meet. Was it possible? Could fate be so cruel as to lead him to his possible life-mate, only to have her be the one he was ordered to turn over to Nergal?

  Even as he pondered, his hands ached to touch her as she moved to take orders, and the ache that had abruptly appeared someplace else? How could he survive that? His balls were so tight and hard that he was shit out of luck if he needed to walk any time in the next century.

  Fuck! What was he going to do? He should have had his phone out by now, calling Matthew and amassing his troops to pick the girl up when the bar closed. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. What did that mean?

  Dagon took a few deep breaths. Maybe he just needed to calm down and talk to her. She didn’t have to be his woman just because he was reacting like a hormonal teenager. Her language had been coarse and unrefined, something he had never found appealing in a female—Lenore being a case in point. Perhaps Holly was all wrong. Yes. That was it. He was so overwrought that he was simply imagining things. She would come over and ask him what he was drinking, and he’d know she wasn’t anyone special. Then he’d call Matthew. Dagon relaxed. Just a little bit.

  Holly leaned toward a female patron a few barstools down, and Dagon shamelessly listened in with his enhanced hearing. He wanted to pick up her voice, but he got more than he bargained for.

  “Did you get a look at the dude at the end of the bar?” the woman asked Holly.

  “Yeah, I know. Tall and ridiculously good looking, right?” Holly’s hand rubbed a rag over the worn wooden bar in front of her. “He’s definitely not our typical patron,” she continued. “Did you check out his hair?”

  Dagon, shamelessly eavesdropping, appreciated when the woman on the stool fanned herself, and he could almost feel her rolling her eyes.

  “Shit, yeah. Long and tied back at the nape of his neck. A few of those inky-black strands escaping. He is one hot commodity.”

  Was Holly going to agree?

  “I want to run my fingers through it,” his dilemma on two feet hissed, and Dagon’s groin tightened even more. Gods, he was in trouble. “And that square jaw. I’d say he was a clear-cut hardass, but then I look at his mouth.”

  Shit! She was looking at his mouth.

  He heard a semi-intoxicated giggle from the stool. “You’re right. His lips are that prissy coral pink usually reserved for models.”

  Dagon saw Holly’s head nod in agreement.

  “I know. Full and sensual…kissable.” She licked her own lips, and he stifled another groan.

  Dagon wondered if the women were playing him. The one on the stool plunked down some bills and tottered away on tall pointy shoes, waving at Holly over her shoulder. “Good luck with that.”

  Damn. The conversation was over, and Dagon had no clue what to do. She was moving his way, and the closer she got, the more panicked he became.

  Holly took drink orders, slowly working her way down the bar. But wow. She was rattled, too. Dagon had just watched her mix some guy a Slippery Nipple, when he’d asked for a Slippery Monkey, then apologize and sigh as she poured it down the drain. She laughed that it was coming out of her pay.

  Dagon watched her every move. She was no rookie to have made that mistake. She was feeling the odd currents in the air that had sprung up in the space between them. He willed her to look his way but could tell she was determined not to.

  When she had finally helped everyone but him, Holly had no choice but to approach. She grabbed the half-consumed glass of beer in front of Dagon that the drunk had left, but still, she stubbornly refused to lift her face.

  “I don’t suppose he left any money?” Her voice was low and husky and shot straight into the pit of Dagon’s stomach. He waited to speak, and finally, when her ice-blue eyes rose to his midnight blue, all was lost. Dagon’s head spun out of control, and by the flush on her cheeks, she felt it too.

  “I told him I’d take care of his tab.” Dagon was barely able to speak. He wanted to reach over the bar and grab her, then run. His mouth twisted into a sinister smile at that thought, and he must have looked scary because her eyes widened.

  “Well, I hate to ruin your night, but his tab is several days old.” She actually gulped. “Max!” she called over to the other bartender, never taking her eyes of Dagon. “What’s Larry’s bill?”

  The man turned to the cash register and picked a slip out of a pile. “Seventy-nine, fifty.” He threw it back down and returned to his own patrons.

  “Cash or charge,” Holly asked, breathlessly. “Before I serve you.”

  Dagon pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and peeled off a hundred dollar bill.

  She raised her eyebrows, arching them prettily where a couple of feather-soft corkscrews of hair framed her forehead. Worry lines, thought Dagon. She was far too young and beautiful to have furrows in her brow. He itched to reach forward and smooth them away.

  “Keep the change.” He could look at her all night.

  Holly was having trouble concentrating. What was she supposed to do next, and how many hours before closing? She’d never gone home with a customer before, but if this one asked… Stop! She had to get her libido under control. She’d worked too many hours lately, that must be it.

  “I’ll stash this in the register while you decide what to have.” She turned her back on the stranger’s broad, hulking shoulders, trying to regain her sanity. Where had her normal, tough, self-preservation mode gone?

  She forced a bland look on her face as she deposited the large bill and made her way back to him. “Have you decided what you want?” She needed to get control of her breathless tone. It was almost like she’d asked him whether he wanted to be on top, or if he preferred that she ride him. Holly nervously worked the barbell piercing in her tongue.

  She knew the minute the guy caught a peak of the silver in her mouth. The heat in the bar ramped up another ten degrees. She was feeling decidedly damp in her panties, and she’d bet any amount of money that the hunk was sporting a stiff one under the bar.

  “I’m not from around here…” he began.

  Holly’s lower belly clenched in pleasure at the sound of his voice. The hunk sounded slightly exotic. Middle Eastern with a hint of aristocratic Brit? Whatever. It was yummy.

  “…and I’ve been sampling beer, but is there a drink you can suggest that incorporates beer and a little something else?”

  Holly snapped her brain back into work-mode. “How about Pap Smear?” she asked with a straight face.

  “Wh—what?”

  Surely the guy wasn’t blushing? OMG! Holly was charmed. The people she usually dealt with were so hardened, she hadn’t seen anything remotely like embarrassment for years, and this guy—in contrast to his dangerous looks—was completely red over the name of a drink. Oh! She really did want to take him home to bed. And speaking of her bed, when was the last time she’d had sex? Oh yeah, she almost snorted. Christmas Eve three years ago, and the guy had turned out to be a big fat zero. Good looking dude with lots of promise whom she’d met at a party, but he’d lasted all of two minutes and never gave her an ounce of pleasure. No thank you. She had stuck with her handy-dandy battery operated penis after that.

  But with this guy? She might just be willing to take another chance. She’d bet a full night’s tips that he wouldn’t leave her high and dry in the orgasm department. There was something about him that was threatening but seductive. He took her breath away and made her female parts sit up and take notice. Her nipples were currently on alert just from hearing his soft little exhale of disbelief over the name of the drink. S
he tried it again.

  “A Pap Smear,” Holly repeated, “is one part beer, one part vodka. You want to give it a try?”

  “Sure.” The guy looked at her with the same gobsmacked expression she was sure was on her face. Holly could have said that the drink was made with pure dog shit, and he would have agreed. He would drink whatever she gave him, and she knew it. Would he also stick around to see if she’d ask him to come home with her at closing? Her long-slumbering pussy tingled at the possibility.

  “How long have you been a bartender?”

  Good, Holly inwardly nodded. He was trying to make normal conversation.

  “About five years,” she answered. She usually made it a rule never to talk about herself with anybody across the bar but dropped the idea without a second’s hesitation for Mr. Gorgeous. She wondered if any of the regulars could look at her and see that she was a quivering mess.

  “So how come you screwed up on that guy’s drink over there?” He nodded his head toward the Slippery Monkey.

  Holly snorted. He was fast and direct. She’d give him that. Well, she thought, two can play at that game. She put his drink in front of him and leaned closer, smelling the exquisite maleness of him that was slightly juniper berries with just a hint of campfire? God, was that hot!

  She looked him right in the eye. “I couldn’t keep my mind off the handsome dude who had just insinuated himself into my section.”

  Dagon looked around with a scowl, ready to send someone packing.

  Holly tapped a finger, lightly on the back of his hand where it rested atop the scarred wood.

  “You,” she whispered, even more turned on than before. He didn’t know he was handsome. Chalk one up for the thrilling arousal of humility. “Listen, I’ve got to go make some more drinks, but stick around.” Holly hoped he would. “I’ll be back.”

  Nothing could have made Dagon leave his seat.

  He watched her for the next hour, waiting for someone to yell, last call. When it didn’t happen, he questioned her about closing time.

  “Most days we close at two,” she said, making another pass at his end of the bar. “But it’s Saturday, so we’re open until three.”

  Dagon cleared his throat. He needed to do something, but he didn’t want to scare her away. “I realize that you don’t know me, and this could be rather presumptuous, but I wondered if I could stay until closing and see you home.” Dagon held his breath. Here was the make or break moment.

  “You haven’t even asked my name.” Her mouth quirked up at the edges while she swiped a bar rag around him. She’d countered his question with a statement, but she hadn’t said no.

  “It’s Abe.” Dagon had almost said Holly, but saved himself at the last minute. “I heard your partner call you that.” He indicated the older gentleman with a jut of his chin.

  “He’s not my partner,” Holly laughed. “He’s my boss, and Abe is what he and everyone else here calls me, but it’s not my real name.” She dimpled impishly. “I only tell my good friends my real name.” Dagon knew she was teasing him and wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass.

  “Let me guess.” Dagon wanted to keep her attention. Business was slowing down, and it looked like she wasn’t needed elsewhere. “Why don’t you give me a hint?”

  He sensed that Holly liked this game, and his cock twitched again as she leaned over—and damn—took a not-so-surreptitious sniff of him for the second time. She inhaled deeply, and a smile lit her face. Whatever she’d smelled, it must be to her satisfaction. What did magazines say about that pheromone thing? That the animal part of you knew a mate by the attraction of their smell? Well, his dark beast was onboard with that, and he smelled her right back. Ahh. Lavender.

  Dagon didn’t think he could get any more aroused, but somebody needed to tell that to his steel-like penis. Everything about Holly was hot, including her scent. And he was pretty sure, at this point, that the hint of silver in her mouth was more erotic than medical. He almost didn’t know what she was talking about when she finally leaned close and whispered in his ear.

  “Christmas greenery.”

  Dagon looked blank, then recovered his equilibrium, not even trying to hide his knowledge of her name. “Holly,” he intimated back, daring to reach toward her and touch the spot on her face where he saw a dimple start to appear.

  “You’re too good,” she smirked saucily.

  He didn’t know whether she meant his powers of deduction or his touch. He was quite certain that she was leaning her cheek closer to his hand and he held his breath.

  “Abe!” The voice snapped them both out of their stupor. “Stop messing around and take care of last call.” He eyed Dagon up and down, clearly not sure he liked his bartender being distracted. Dagon thought he could see the older man’s protective instincts flare. He was not mistaken.

  “You.” He pointed to Dagon. “You have something you want from Abe?”

  Dagon could get up in the man’s face and take the human out without breaking a sweat, but it might be better to play nice. He rose from his seat and approached Holly’s wary boss, then stuck his hand across the bar.

  “I’m Dagon.”

  The barkeep reluctantly took his hand, but Dagon couldn’t have cared less. He was busy looking deep into the man’s eyes. “If you could help out a friend, I’d be much obliged if you’d tell Abe that it would be a good thing to let me walk her home.” Dagon saw Holly’s boss blink twice before answering.

  He nodded his head. “You know, I’m always telling her it’s not safe to walk by herself after hours. I would feel better if she had an escort. Thanks for offering.”

  Dagon was aware that Holly had heard the exchange and, narrowing her eyes, approached the pair.

  “Dagon, is it?” She looked like she didn’t believe the name for a minute. Holly looked from one man to the other, then addressed Dagon.

  “A word of advice if you want to keep my attention. I always make my own decisions, no matter what anybody else thinks.” She shot daggers at her boss, who shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “I’m a big girl, and I decide if I want to get walked home.”

  “So which is it?” Dagon couldn’t keep the grin off of his face. “Do I leave now, or do I stay and walk you home?”

  All of a sudden, Holly’s thoughts, which previously he’d not been privy to, invaded Dagon’s head as if she had spoken out loud.

  I feel pretty good about this, but I’m going to be very pissed off if my instincts are wrong and I end up dead.

  Dagon took a great gulp of his drink and barely kept from sputtering. Hearing her head-voice placed another checkmark in the box next to Holly’s name that screamed “mate.” Trying to construe the meaning of her words, Dagon understood instinctively that it had been a long time since Holly had taken any risks. He held his breath for her answer.

  “Fine. Have a seat. I have to help close up. It’ll be another half hour.”

  Dagon did an internal touchdown dance. Half an hour was nothing. He’d already waited an eternity.

  A short time later, Holly’s boss pulled the security caging down over the door and fastened the padlocks that held it to the ground.

  “Not the best neighborhood at night,” he called across in explanation. “Which is why I’m happy Abe has someone to watch out for her tonight.” Max then groused to Holly, “How many times have you had to use that pepper spray I gave you on your way home?”

  Dagon tried not to chuckle. He knew it was the old man’s roundabout way of letting him know that Holly could take care of herself.

  “Too many times to count,” Holly said lightly, making Dagon want to growl. Men had dared to attack her? If he knew who they were, he would kill them.

  His voice came out with menace, “Let anyone try tonight and see what they get.”

  Holly grinned. “I don’t usually like the macho thing, but on you it looks good.” She approached Dagon and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, tugging him in the opposite direction from her boss. />
  “Goodnight,” she called out over her shoulder, and they walked out through a back door.

  Dagon hadn’t realized how petite Holly was until he stood next to her. Just like her sister Tess, she barely reached his breastbone. But unlike Tess, she didn’t appear fine boned and delicate. She looked like she must work out every day. Her body was solidly packed with muscle, and she walked on the balls of her feet as they moved down the street, like a dancer—or a boxer. Didn’t their brother own some sort of studio for sparring? It seemed like Lenore or Matthew had told him that at some point.

  Dagon almost groaned. Matthew. Captivated by the woman on his arm, he’d completely forgotten about that asshole in the last few hours. How long could he keep Holly away from Matthew and Erra? He pictured Holly in an alley with a snapped neck and actually growled deep in his chest. He wouldn’t allow it!

  “Was that your stomach?” Holly asked, clearly amused at the noise Dagon had just made. “I have food in my refrigerator,” she assured him. “I could make you an omelet.”

  Dagon wanted nothing more than to take her up on her offer. He wanted to be in Holly’s apartment, alone with her, kissing her silly before stripping her naked and burying himself deep inside her sweet pussy. But until he could resolve a course of action in his mind, and take precautions for her future…and his…it was better to hold back. “I think I’ll take a rain check on the food,” he told her regretfully.

  They walked four blocks, and she slowed down in front of a poorly lit brick building. This was where she lived? He shook his head. Dagon was appalled at how unsafe her neighborhood appeared. He would hire an electrician first thing Monday morning to come and put flood lights on all corners of this edifice.

  Holly turned to him as they stopped by the entrance. “So…do you want to come up?”

  Dagon shook his head. “I’m sorry. No. I…can’t,” he said, tamping down every cell in his body that screamed for him to follow her up and take her again and again.