Black Widow Demon (Demon Outlaws)

by Altenburg, Paula

  She might look delicate, but she was not. She’d escaped her stepfather. Had held her own when he’d stopped her from killing the Godseeker with her arrow. She’d overpowered demons. Her air of innocence was part of her protection. She was confident and fought for what she wanted.

  As she clung to him her breath came in small ragged pants, and when she looked at him he saw raw, undisguised hunger in her heavy-lidded eyes. He touched the tip of his erection to her opening, feeling her dampness, and could not contain a low growl of need.

  “I want you,” she said, her voice husky.

  That was all the invitation he needed. He thrust upward and she gasped, her tightness clenching around him like a fist. He dared not move, not even to withdraw. Resting his forehead against hers, he struggled to breathe.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Are you—”

  “Don’t.” Determination gleamed in her eyes as if she prepared for battle. “I need a moment, that’s all.”

  She started to move her hips against his a moment later, and he moved at her pace, stroking himself inside her as gently as he could, until her quick breaths turned to quiet cries of pleasure.

  It became impossible to think of anything but the physical sensations she aroused in him. Slow tremors of release built inside her—he could feel them mounting, rippling along his erection until he groaned aloud with anticipation. He cupped her smooth buttocks in his hands, thrusting with greater intensity, and felt the heat of her release when it came. He shuddered, his own quickly erupting in response.

  He held her close, steadying them against the cave wall until her shivering stopped and their breathing grew normal. Sweat-slickened skin glistened in the faint light. For a moment, neither of them spoke, and Blade couldn’t tell if her silence meant regret. But then she opened her eyes, pale blue, glittering diamonds shining with faint surprise and intense satisfaction.

  “Raven,” he began, then stopped as the world shifted around them without warning.

  They were no longer in the cave in the boundary. They were back in the desert, fully clothed, as if they had never left.

  Except night had passed. The dull sting of a thin cut on one arm, and the remnants of spent lust ebbing from his groin, also told him the evening’s events had not been a dream. He couldn’t pretend that their lovemaking hadn’t happened. Somehow, he had to deal with its aftermath, whatever it was.

  He braced her unconscious, rag-doll body between his thighs, her head on his arm as he crouched in the grove of yucca and sage. The sounds of the awakening desert were audible in the cold, calm morning.

  He had been her first. She had been even more of an innocent than he’d thought. Somehow, in the back of his mind, when he had heard the villagers speaking, he had assumed Creed was her lover. Guilt rippled beneath his skin and in his throat, leaving a poor taste in his mouth. His assumption and subsequent actions made him little better than the Godseeker who had tried to possess her by force.

  He would be lying to himself, and to her, if he pretended it did not matter to him that she was half demon. It was not something she could easily overcome or that he could readily forget. But she had not tried to lie to him or pretend to be anything other than who she was. He could not make the same claim. He had long known he lacked moral fiber—killing came too easily to him—but he had not realized until now how low he had sunk, or that he could prey on an innocent—half demon, or not.

  He had been in a position of trust. She had deserved far better from him.

  I will not apologize to anyone for what I am.

  She was beautiful and strong-willed, a survivor in two worlds—neither of which were kind to women. They would not be kind to the opposing sides of her nature—demon and mortal—either.

  She was right when she said that she was not responsible for her birthright, only how she chose to deal with it. The same was true of anyone. He stroked his fingers through her damp ringlets, combing them away from her face.

  Whatever the future brought, he sincerely hoped her two worlds, between them, did not destroy her.

  Chapter Seven

  Justice guided his hross through the first of the three mountain passes that led to the Temple of Immortal Right, the training ground of the Godseekers’ servants and protectors.

  He wasn’t going to waste any more time searching for Raven so close to home. The whore would be brazen enough to approach the assassins in her search for sanctuary, believing Creed would help her. She had thrown the name in his face more than once. Justice was certain it was where she’d go, and he intended to close that venue of escape for her.

  He could not shake his suspicion that the assassin Blade was now involved with her. Justice knew how tempting Raven could be, how potentially dangerous, and if she had the assassin helping her, he did not want to run into them on his own in the mountains. Therefore, accompanying Justice were two of his oldest and most loyal friends and companions, Cage and Might.

  Cage, a thin and wiry man, was an expert at tracking. He believed Raven was not alone, confirming Justice’s suspicions regarding the cold-eyed assassin and that she was headed into the mountains.

  The second man, Might, was a bald-headed, heavily tattooed giant. He straddled his broad-footed hross like a mountain balanced on a tabletop. His boots dangled bare inches above the rocky ground, forcing the animal beneath him to struggle despite its own impressive size, so that they had to stop for frequent rests.

  They had been on the road for two days now. From this first pass, the men had a good view of the mountains as well as the valleys between them. Many of these valleys housed Godseeker-led settlements like his own, long dedicated to the mining of precious metals and the fabrication of jewelry and trinkets that had once pleased the goddesses. Over time, with their departure, mining production increased to include coins and various objects for trade.

  The path Justice and his companions traveled was well worn by time but not often used anymore. So far, they had seen no one else.

  Might drew his laboring mount to a halt and pointed a long, thick finger toward a valley ahead and slightly below them. A fine plume of dark-gray smoke spiraled lazily into the still, crisp morning air.

  Justice and Cage reined in their hross beside him.

  “It could be nothing,” Justice said, staring at the smoke, but he did not believe it. “We’ll check it out, just in case.”

  It took them the rest of the morning to reach the settlement. Although juniper and pine were little more than scrub at this elevation and provided minimal concealment, wolven were known to hunt from many of the rocky nooks, crannies, and hidden crevasses. Caution was required.

  As they approached the town, its emptiness soon became apparent. Abandoned buildings were all that greeted them. They rode through the narrow, cobbled streets, the hross becoming increasingly nervous in the eerie silence. The smoke they had observed from the mountain pass drifted from a smoldering pyre that had once been a temple to the goddesses. The smell wafting through the air was worse than anything Justice had ever experienced, and he pulled his neckerchief over his mouth and nose.

  “Only demon fire could burn hot enough to do such a thing as this,” Cage said, his eyes flat and cold.

  All three men glanced around, uneasy, but if it had been the work of demons, they were long gone. Something about this scene felt wrong to Justice. His amulet remained cold and dark, giving no warning of the presence of immortals, however residual. His attention fixed on the smoking remains of the temple, and he wondered if Raven were somehow responsible for this devastation.

  He did not believe so. As much as he hated her for her arrogance and wanted her brought to her knees, he could not see her doing this. She had not been able to kill him when she’d had the chance but buried the knife in his leg rather than his heart.

  Still, he could use this to his advantage. People believed her to be a demon. While no ability to use demon fire had ever been established, who was he to say whether or not Raven could raise it with
absolute certainty?

  “Demons are gone from the world,” he said. “Even if they weren’t, they couldn’t have traveled this far into lands the goddesses had claimed. Spawn are another matter. We have no idea what harm they can do. If this is any indication”—he swept his hand in a broad arc—“then it’s imperative the Godseekers take action against them.”

  Might’s deep, gravelly voice rolled like a slow-moving rockslide from his throat as he, too, stared at the smoldering pyre. “Raven couldn’t have done such a thing. She’s little more than a girl.”

  Justice narrowed his eyes in displeasure at his companion’s defensive comment. “On her own, most likely she couldn’t,” he said. “But she’s half demon. Who knows what her connection to them is? What she’s asked them to do, or what strength she draws from them?” He pushed a bit harder, planting more seeds of doubt regarding her innocence. “Why do you suppose these people were burned not three days after Raven was sentenced to the same fate?” He looked around them at the deserted streets. “How many more like her might there be amongst us, going undetected? Her mother was far from the only mortal woman to lie with a demon.”

  Cage’s hross shied sideways beneath him, spooked by wind-driven debris tumbling past on the cobblestones. “Demons hate spawn,” he said, once he had his mount under control.

  “They hate men, too,” Might replied.

  “Demons or spawn, or a combination of the two, this isn’t a place I care to linger,” Justice said. What was important right now was to put as much distance between them and this travesty as possible, in case those responsible should happen to return. “We can’t help these people.”

  He turned his mount around with a nudge of his knee and a tightening of the reins. A week on a hross would get them to the temple. Once there, he would enlist the aid of the assassins.

  But no matter what, he would make certain Raven was brought back alive. Her mother had learned it was best not to defy him, and that was a lesson her daughter needed to be taught as well.

  …

  Raven awoke to a dry mouth, an aching head, and unfamiliar surroundings, but also with the certainty that this world was her own.

  Daylight seeped through interwoven branches of fresh-cut, sharp-scented pinion. Someone—Blade—had constructed a crude shelter above her. From the front of the lean-to she could see jutting rock, spindly shrubs, and a sparkle of running water in a streambed. They were in the foothills, or very near them. A thin, scratchy blanket covered her, and everything hurt when she moved.

  A rush of images flashed through her head. Her hands on his naked shoulders. His jaw clenched, head back and eyes closed, as he moved inside her.

  Mortification seared her. Her demon had pursued and seduced him. She hoped he had not placed too much importance on that. In the boundary, to a demon, it meant little. Here, in the mortal world, it granted him legal rights over her if he chose to pursue them. It also meant Justice, a Godseeker, could charge him with theft if he did.

  But they had not been intimate in this world. And in the boundary, it was her father whose claim on her she feared more than any other. It was best not to think about that.

  She wondered how she could face Blade, how she should react. Maybe they would simply pretend that nothing had happened.

  That was her preference. If he did not mention it, neither would she.

  She must have made a noise. A long shadow fell across the opening of the shelter, and Blade’s head and shoulders appeared to block out the light.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked, his tone neutral.

  She waited for everything to stop spinning, terrified the hallucinations would strike again, but the world slowly settled. She pried her dry tongue from the roof of her mouth. “How long was I out?”

  “Three days.”

  “Three days.” She could scarcely believe it.

  Or that he had stayed with her, as he had promised.

  He disappeared briefly from the lean-to. When he returned, he held a tin cup in his hand. He lifted her head and tipped the cup against her lips. Cool water slid down her parched throat, taking away much of the fiery agony.

  He withdrew the cup before it was empty and set it aside. “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  He brought her a plain piece of dried bread, which he broke in pieces and dipped in the remaining water before feeding to her.

  She dozed off and on for the rest of the day.

  By late afternoon she was awake again, and restless, and more observant. She wore a man’s shirt. Blade’s, she assumed. It reached her knees, baring her calves to the cold. When she checked, the swelling from the snakebite had dissipated, leaving only a slight discoloration and two tiny scabs.

  Except for her hair, she felt remarkably clean. Something else it was best not to mention or contemplate too deeply.

  “Ready to try and get up?” Blade asked, startling her. She had not heard him approach.

  She nodded, and he helped her from the shelter.

  They were, indeed, somewhere in the foothills, near one of the many mountain streams and surrounded by thin forest. Broken, rock-strewn terrain rose abruptly above them. Blade had built a small, smokeless fire on dry, well-swept ground near the stream, and he guided her to sit beside it as if she were elderly and fragile. A kettle of something wonderful-smelling hung on a tripod over the low flames. He scooped a little of the food into a tin plate and passed it to her.

  “After you’ve eaten,” he said, “you can bathe if you’d like. You’ll sleep better for it. I can help if you still need it.”

  She froze with the spoon halfway between the plate and her mouth. He revealed more to her by what he did not say than what he did. They were both well aware they had been intimate, and that he had seen to her personal needs for the past three days. In his practicality, he saw no further need for modesty. Raven, however, did not like feeling helpless. She had always been healthy.

  “I can manage on my own,” she said.

  They did not speak again until after she had finished the last of her meal and he had taken the plate from her and rinsed it in the stream.

  She watched him as he worked. Physically, she felt better for having eaten. Emotionally, her thoughts remained chaotic. Proximity to him filled her with a deep longing, like the dull, gnawing pangs of an insatiable hunger. She wondered if he felt it, too.

  If so, he hid it well.

  He had his back to her as he stored the cleaned plate in one of his packs. “Who is Creed?” he asked.

  The question was blunt and not at all casual. Caution kept her silent at first, wondering how best to answer and why he wanted to know. “Where did you hear that name?”

  “You called for him.”

  She knew she had not. During the long hours of hallucination after their lovemaking, Blade’s was the only presence she had clung to or sought. The terrors remained too fresh in her memory for her to forget such an important detail.

  “Who else did I call for?” she asked.

  He did not answer.

  It was as she thought. She had called only for Blade, and it disturbed him. It disturbed her, too.

  “Creed is an old friend,” she said. Her heart ached with a sudden longing, because whatever Blade might be at this moment, friend was not how she would classify him. “After I killed Justice, I planned to go to him for help.”

  Blade set the pack aside. The sun had dropped behind the stooped treetops, coloring the world in deepening shades of purple and gray. His expression when he glanced at her was unreadable. “Where is Creed right now?”

  “Somewhere in the mountains.”

  “You were planning to go to him, but you don’t know where he is?”

  She bit her lip, forced to admit that her plan was flawed and somewhat desperate. “Not for certain.”

  “Is he by any chance a Godseeker assassin?”

  While Raven could not read Blade as accurately as other people, she had no doubt that if she lied to hi
m now, he would know. And that it would matter.

  “He was called into training.” That was the truth. She had no idea if he’d progressed to assassin, although could not imagine that he hadn’t. Creed was like Blade in some respects—competent and larger than life.

  Except Creed drew people to him. Blade pushed them away.

  Blade reached for another tin plate. This one had been sitting on the ground, filled with crushed and moistened soap-root bulbs. He passed it to her. “Go bathe. Call me if you need help.”

  He walked away from the fire, his tall, broad-shouldered figure sliding silently into the brush. She knew he would not go far in the same way she sensed he continued to want her. Blade was not a man to be ruled by emotion, but that did not mean he had none. The ones that involved her were easy enough to isolate, although not necessarily so simple to interpret.

  The shallow stream trickled through wide fissures in the craggy mountain granite, its waters cold but not unbearably so. Raven peeled off Blade’s shirt before wading into a quiet, sheltered pool. She then sat on a rock, still warm from the day’s sun, while she lathered her hair and skin with the crushed soap root. She rinsed herself with handfuls of the clear water.

  Feeling completely clean for the first time in days was beyond glorious. The threat of the lengthening shadows, however, filled her with dread. The terrors of the hallucinations had not faded, and likely would not for quite some time.

  She shook out her short mass of ringlets, tidying them with her fingers before dropping Blade’s shirt over her head. It smelled of him, very masculine, and felt slightly oily from storage in the weatherproof canvas pack.

  She had nothing of her own to wear. She had nothing at all that belonged to her anymore, other than the demon amulet around her neck and her bow and arrows. She felt a sharp pang of loss and a sense of uncertainty as to her future.

  Blade reappeared as she approached the campfire, three fat quail swinging by their legs from his hand. Her heart quickened with relief at the sight of him. Despite the uneasiness between them he had become an anchor to her, someone she trusted, even more so than Creed.