“Tayla! Cut it!”
She paused for a split second to stare at him as if he was insane, a pause that cost her. The Cruentus raked its claws across her face, laying open her cheek. Snarling, Eidolon plowed his fist into the beast’s snout, reveling in the crunch of cartilage beneath his knuckles.
“Do it,” he yelled, and though indecision flashed in Tayla’s eyes, she buried the knife in the Obhirrat’s belly and yanked up, opening the creature like an unzipped coat.
It screamed, a high-pitched, ear-shattering sound. Tayla leaped back as squirming, ricelike grains spilled from the wound. The maggots moved with unnatural speed and purpose; unlike their nondemon counterparts, these fed on living flesh.
Eidolon seized Tayla’s arm and yanked her up the tunnel that led to Nancy’s lair, leaving the sounds of battle and pain behind.
When they burst into Nancy’s purple nightmare, Tayla slammed the door shut, and he bolted it. Blood dripped down her face from the Cruentus’s clawmarks, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“We took a risk, cutting that thing open,” she said, doubling over to catch her breath.
We. Interesting. “You okay?”
Immediately, she straightened, her chin jutting out stubbornly. “I’m fine. Been through worse.”
“You never stop fighting, do you?”
She watched him warily as he slid his palm over the curve of her cheek and pinched her torn flesh between his fingers. The familiar warm tingle traveled down his arm. Her lids flew up as the power ripped into her flesh. Beneath his fingertips, her tissue knitted together, the torn blood vessels fusing. In moments, he wiped the blood away from new, unmarked skin.
“How . . . how do you do that?”
“Members of my breed share three different gifts, all with some healing ability.” The healing abilities were, however, secondary to the primary purpose . . . which was to aid in reproduction once the s’genesis was complete. Shade could use his gift to stimulate early ovulation, Wraith practiced mind-seductions, but could also heal mental disorders. Eidolon could create favorable conditions for fertilization of eggs.
She touched her face, awe reflecting in her expression. Man, she was beautiful, all wild-haired warrior with the scent of battle clinging to her skin. The sight of her, the smell of her, triggered a primitive reaction deep in his core, one that both disgusted and intrigued him. He hated everything about her. But he wanted to bed her. Over and over.
She’d been spot on when she’d said his ego had taken a blow because he hadn’t brought her to climax, but his desire to take her again went beyond patching his pride or even slaking the ever-present lust that plagued his breed. He’d never encountered anyone who radiated such a fierce will to live. Her life force drew him, her fire fascinated him, and her sensuality held him in an iron grip he couldn’t break.
He wanted to fuck her when what he should do was kill her.
Her eyes flared, as if she knew what he was thinking, and his focus slammed home.
“I’m taking you home now.”
“You can drop me off in the general vicinity.”
Despite the fact that they’d fought together, saved each other’s lives, and he’d healed her wounds, she still couldn’t make this easy. Not that he blamed her.
But she still wasn’t going to win this round.
“Not an option. I’m walking you to your door.”
“Why?” She stepped back. “So you can tell all your demon buddies where I live?”
He closed the distance she’d put between them, used his size and height to deliver the message that if she wanted to fight, he was ready to throw down. “Remember how I told you that my colleagues wanted to torture you for information?”
“Kinda hard to forget, and hello, personal space.”
“You don’t have the luxury of personal space right now, because you’re in danger. I want to make sure my colleagues don’t know where you live. As in, they aren’t there waiting for you.”
“That would suck.”
Call it a curse of his species that the word “suck” would turn him on, but there it was, a sexual stirring in his gut that was so powerful he had to grind out, “Is that a yes?”
“Yeah.”
“Fine.” Gods help him, he was going to take her home. He’d be walking into the lion’s den.
Nothing possessed a hair trigger like a werewolf on the eve of a full moon, so when Shade rounded a corner on his way to the hospital’s administrative offices and collided with Luc, he expected a snarling backlash. Instead, the were smiled, actually smiled, and clapped Shade on the shoulder.
“See ya next week, incubus.”
Luc would be locking himself away for the duration of the full moon, which usually made him grumpier than a Cruentus with a fangache, but today he was downright cheerful.
“Luc, you okay, man?”