“What the fuck was that?” I muttered.
“Night demons.”
I sat up in a hurry, wincing as my head spun. I put my palm to my forehead to keep it from falling off.
A man leaned in the crumbling doorway of the church. Tall and muscular, his chest was bare, his sienna skin shining in the sun. At first I thought his ebony hair had been cropped brutally close to his scalp, but when he moved, straightening away from the doorjamb, the skin between the teenie-tiny braids that had been woven into his hair flashed. There appeared to be a design to their swirl, but from where I sat, I couldn’t tell what it was.
The church did stand at a crossroads, but not the kind I’d been looking for. To me crossroads meant a street of some kind—paved or at least covered in gravel. In this case the “road” was a waterway in two directions, with the church perched on a small plot of land between a dirt trail and a creek so narrow, only a canoe could pass.
“You are here for de book,” the man said, his accent a melodic combination of France and Jamaica.
“I—uh—” Should I lie or shouldn’t I? I was never quite sure.
“De night demons know. They attack only those who are up to no good.”
“And who would that be?”
“Nephilim, for de most part.”
“The Nephilim are trying to steal the Book of Samyaza?” Why pretend I had no idea what he meant when I did, and he knew it?
He inclined his head. “To possess de book is to rule this world as well as de next.”
“Then why aren’t you?”
“I protect de book until our Prince comes.”
“From what I hear, all the demons got sent back to hell.”
He shrugged. “There will come another chance.”
Unfortunately he was right. Doomsday, Armageddon, Apocalypse, they were inevitable. The only thing we could do was attempt to put them off until we were better prepared to win.
He tilted his head. “Why would you be happy to see de Grigori sent back? You’re as Nephilim as I am.”
I would have known even without his confession. I felt a buzz in the air, the hum that made my teeth ache and screamed that evil was near. There was a darkness about him, so abysmal I could almost see it hovering like smoke.
Since I wasn’t about to explain myself—to him or anyone else—I ignored his question to reiterate my own. “Why are you protecting a book for someone else when you could become the Prince of All You Survey?”
“We each have our parts to play. One of de reasons we haven’t won yet is that we fight one another as much as we fight de light. I promised long ago to keep our Book of Samyaza safe for when de Prince would come.”
A Nephilim that kept his word. The world really was coming to an end.
“What do you get if you do?”
He smiled, a brilliant white flash in his handsome, dark face. “Anything I desire.”
His gaze wandered from my no doubt tousled head to my—eek!—bare feet. I was all-over bare, and from the expression on his face, he didn’t have a problem with that.
“Come closer,” he murmured, his voice a mesmerizing melody that compelled me to obey.
I took a single step before I managed to stop myself. “What are you?”
“Mait. Commander of de night demons.”
“Which explains why they don’t peck the crap out of you whenever you get near the book.”
“I am their god.”
I didn’t like that one bit. Commander and god. I needed to get that book out of his clutches and fast. No matter what Mait said, it was only a matter of time until he got sick of waiting for the Prince to come and decided the Prince was here and it was him.
His tongue swept his lips; his emerald gaze refused to leave my breasts. I crossed my arms, and he smirked. “Come here,” he said again.
This time I was prepared and held my ground. “No, thanks.” He might be beautiful to behold, but if I got too close I’d be sorry.
“I want to touch you.”
“And I don’t want to be touched.”
He lifted his face, breathed in the dawn. “Your scent is enticing; you are so many things. Strong and dangerous, soft and smooth and round. You’ll be so warm inside.” His head fell back, his chest muscles tightened and flexed. From the bulge in his khaki cotton pants, he was having a great time without me. “First I will satisfy my lust and then my hunger.”
“Hunger,” I repeated.
“I thirst for fear, terror, for de darkness only I can bring.”
“You ‘eat’ fear?”
“Mmmm,” he murmured. “I doubt I’ll sleep again until I’ve had you.”
I tensed, prepared for a fight. I wasn’t going to let this guy “have” anything. But he stayed where he was, and I began to wonder.
“If you want me so bad why don’t you—” I bit my lip, considering. “You stuck in there?”
His head came up; his eyes flashed fury, darkening to evergreen, and I laughed. “No wonder you aren’t marching at the head of the army of doom. You can’t leave.”
“Yet,” he said.
“What does that mean?”