chapter 4
She turned to him but continued to step back.
"I won't hurt you," he called, following. "Do you have a car out here?"
"I need your help," she said, her voice throaty.
"Of course." What would she think of his battle-scarred face up close? He hadn't cared much in the past, but with her...the idea of seeing her disgust made him hesitate. Until she turned and skipped down an embankment - farther away from him.
He hastened after her. "Do you live near here?"
"Need your help," she said once more, ducking behind a willow by the water's edge.
He joined her beneath the tree. "I have to get back to the city, but then I can come back to help you." And get all your information so I can return for you once my duties are done.
As he gazed down at her face, he began to feel dizzy once more, on edge even. His reaction to her seemed too powerful, her looks too alluring to be real. She had high cheekbones and the most flawless pale skin he'd ever seen. Her pink lips were plump and glistening.
Just when he began to draw back, she said, "Help me now." Grasping his hand in her two small ones, she kissed his palm with those smiling lips, then placed it over one of her full breasts.
Every muscle in his body tightened with want. Unable to stop himself, he kneaded her flesh with a low groan. The promise of pleasure blazed from her mesmerizing eyes, and he found himself lowering his defenses.
"This is what I need," she murmured in a siren's voice, arching to his hand.
"And the gods know that I want to give it to you, right after I've settled - "
"I need it" - she took his other hand and placed it high on her inner thigh - "now."
Rydstrom tried to shake himself. He had responsibilities. But I've been so long without a woman.
He hissed out a breath when she raised her hands to his horns, boldly grasping them to tug him down to her. "Kiss me, demon."
When a female steered a demon male like this...Rydstrom shuddered from the savage thrill, bowing his head as she bade him to with her sexual grip. Their lips met, and lust rocked him.
He felt a connection with her. Maybe even the connection.
With that thought in mind, he began taking her mouth hard. She was experienced, urging him on, meeting every thrust of his tongue, teasing him until his hands landed on her soft ass to rock her against his shaft.
Still, he somehow broke away from her. "I...can't do this now. I have to meet someone. Much rides on this."
"Make love to me," she whispered, now sidling closer to him. "Here. Under this tree, in the moonlight. I'm aching for you."
His horns were straightening, his cock throbbing. He could scarcely withstand the need to be inside her luscious body.
But he had to. The kingdom's needs always come before the king's. "No. I have obligations," he bit out, hating those obligations for the first time. Resenting them.
When he backed away, her brows drew together. "Then you leave me no choice, Rydstrom."
Just when he wondered how she knew his name, the road began disappearing, as though the earth had been draped, disguised. He twisted around.
An illusion all around him. Behind him, he heard a clang like the door of a jail cell slamming shut. As the chimera vanished, realization hit him.
"You're Omort and Groot's sister. Sabine, the Queen of Illusions." She'd opened a portal into a dungeon, then disguised it as just a continuation of the road.
"Very good, Rydstrom."
He'd warned Cade that their enemy would stop at nothing to thwart them in their quest to get that sword. Rydstrom hadn't known the sorcerer's sister was in league with Omort, or that she was this powerful in her own right.
And if the rumors were true...
Then she was even more treacherous than either of her brothers.
The most beautiful female Rydstrom had ever seen was the most evil. Or maybe this wasn't her true likeness at all. She'd probably given him exactly what he needed to see to become spellbound. "Show me your real form."
"This is." She smoothed her palms over her breasts and lower. "I'm so pleased by how much it arouses you."
Even now it did, and he despised her for it. "Why have you done this to me, Sabine?"
"It's not obvious?" With a flick of her pale hand, she directed his gaze to a bed in the center of the cell. It was uncovered and unadorned - but for the chains at the head and foot.
7
"You're a...slob," Holly murmured with a shudder, aghast at Cadeon's living quarters.
"Tell me how you really feel, Holly. No need to hold back."
Shirts hung over lampshades. The floor was dotted with old pizza boxes and crushed beer cans. DVDs were strewn everywhere, some with titles that had her flushing with embarrassment.
The chandelier that hung overhead had seventeen lit bulbs and ten bulbs out. She itched to knock out two more to make both numbers divisible by three. "This is...how can you...you live like this?"
When they'd first pulled up to this estate, she'd been impressed by the luxurious Garden District residence, one not far from her childhood home. They'd driven through wooden gates past the mansion to this pool house - which was also striking, easily twice as large as her spacious loft.
But inside, chaos reigned.
"Didn't know I'd be having company."
"Would you have cleaned if you had?" she asked.
With a shameless grin, he said, "Nah." Taking her by the elbow, he steered her to his bedroom, then into a bathroom that thankfully wasn't the biohazard she'd been expecting. "You've got five minutes. Clear?"
Holly nodded silently, still stunned by the disorder, shaking from the need to fix it.
"This is not the time to be peering at your new ears in the mirror or examining your claws." He turned on the water, adjusting the temperature. "Just get the blood and swamp water off."
He picked up a shampoo bottle, and must have found it empty, because he tossed it. "I'll be back." He jogged out.
When he returned, he had a towel and washcloth over his shoulder and his hands full of miniature shampoo and conditioner bottles. "My flatmate can't pass up anything free. There should be some you'll like."
He opened the glass enclosure and carelessly dropped them into the tub, where they scattered randomly.
Random. Holly hated random.
Tossing the towel and washcloth on the counter, he said, "I'll dig around, see if I can find you something to wear that won't swallow you. Call me if you need anything else."
When he closed the door behind him, she locked it. After tugging the filthy shirt over her head, she folded it and the towel as well. She grabbed the washcloth, then stepped under the steaming cascade.
All around her feet, bottles rolled with no order, no design. They taunted her.
She knew she didn't have time to arrange them into threes, but could barely resist the urge. Just don't look down.
Yet she had to in order to grab shampoo. Taking a breath, she plucked up a bottle.
Then she closed her eyes as she lathered her hair, trying to ignore her pointed ears with their sensitive, sharp tips and her longer, stronger...claws.
After shampooing her hair twice and rinsing conditioner through it, she scrubbed her skin till it burned.
Cadeon hadn't wanted her to gaze at her new features, but she had no inclination to. She just wanted out of this nightmare, wanted to get back to her ordered life, her ordered loft, her on-track career -
Oh, God, Tim!
Her boyfriend of over two years was even now in California presenting their research at a conference, working for their future. They planned for him to get a job at a local software security firm and continue his research, while she would teach.
How could she face him like this? How could she explain? Well, I got struck by this bolt of lightning, and, voilà, I was able to kill a dozen demons. Did the lightning hurt? No, it felt great. Like a hug from someone you'd really missed.
She had to get this condition reversed, would be willing to do just about anything not to be like this any longer.
Would I trust Cadeon to help me? The comforting presence she'd sensed watching her for so long - could it possibly have been him?
She remembered him from the day she'd won that award for differential equations student of the year. He'd stammered and flushed, behaving so differently from tonight, when he'd been confident and strong. And cocky. He couldn't have been more cocky. It was as if he had a separate personality or even a bolder twin.
Her eyes widened as she recalled him in the truck, touching her...privately. In all the chaos, she remembered that burning hand covering her between her thighs, his rough palm holding her up...his low growl that made her breath hitch.
When she turned under the water, the spray hit her breasts, and it felt delicious. Tingles of pleasure radiated through her....
How could she be aroused after what she'd been through tonight? And after what she'd almost been through?
That man - that fiend - had been about to rape her on a stone altar. They all had. At the memory of all of them leering at her, thinking they would be inside her, she shuddered with disgust, any warmth dissipating.
Yet they hadn't hurt her, because she'd protected herself. She'd killed tonight. Viciously.
And I did it with joy in my heart.
At that thought, she gave a cry, her eyes flashing open, hands diving down to collect the bottles. The impulse to systematize the random couldn't be resisted. She bent down, collecting the eleven samples. Not a multiple of three, but it would have to do.
On the edge of the tub, she set out three groups of three with spaces between them, all labels out, of course. She leaned back and eyed the spaces, adjusting them for equidistance.
She set the two remaining bottles on the other side of the tub, on their tops. If they were upside down and separated, then they weren't part of the same set as the others. They wouldn't have to be included. She'd nullified them.
She rose, and her eyes immediately began scanning for something else to arrange -
A hand shot through the water, snatching her arm and yanking her out of the shower. The side of her face collided with a bared, muscular chest.
Just as she was about to shriek, Cadeon covered her mouth with a callused palm. "They're coming..." He trailed off, those green eyes dipping to her body as she futilely tried to shield her nudity. Seeming to give himself a shake, he produced a T-shirt.
"Here. Arms up!"
"Stop looking at me! I need to dry o - "
"Holly, put your goddamned arms up!"
Startled into complying, she did, and he dragged a man's T-shirt over her wet body. He smoothed the shirt down her, boldly, familiarly.
"I'm not looking, pet," he said, but his voice was huskier, and she could feel his eyes on her breasts.
She dropped her head in mortification, only to find that the button fly on his jeans wasn't all the way done, as if he'd rushed in here in the middle of getting dressed.
A line of golden hair trailed from his navel down his flat stomach to where only three buttons were fastened.
He wasn't wearing underwear. Stop thinking about that. Stop thinking about it!
She swallowed, averting her eyes once again. Her gaze landed on the table beside his unmade bed, visible through the bathroom door. Atop it was a book on psychiatry, of all things.
Cade dragged a still sputtering Holly from the bathroom to the den, then bent down amid all the belongings scattered throughout the room. "Two black SUVs just pulled up outside."
He didn't want to freak her out, but Cade thought some vampires had already broken into the main house.
"Here, take this bag." He tossed a prepacked duffel bag to her. Inside were his clothes, his lucky bush hat, cash, and gear.
"How can you possibly find anything?" She surveyed the chaos as if horrified anew.
"It's my system," he said absently, distracted by her wet T-shirt.
She followed his gaze, flushing violently, plucking the fabric away from her hardened nipples. But he'd already seen her in the bathroom.
Gods, how I saw her. Before, Cade hadn't known she was a true blonde. He hadn't guessed how pink and tight her little nipples were. And her breasts were much larger than they'd looked in the past, even when he'd seen her in her swimsuit.
They'd be a perfect handful for him.
He shook his head, needing to concentrate on getting her the fuck out of here.
"Cadeon, this isn't a system. This is the studied absence of one."
"Yeah, not as good as the one you were using for the shampoo samples. Agreed." He hadn't missed how she'd arranged them so precisely.
She had a disorder that made his disorder a special kind of hell for her. They were going to have to talk about her loosening up a bit.
Attention back to his task, he dragged on a black T-shirt, then snared a leather jacket from a chair. He spotted his flask of demon brew. "Catch." He tossed it to her without looking, but didn't hear it fall.
"Heads up," he said as he pitched a sat-phone in her general direction. Again she caught it. The Valkyrie reflexes were coming online nicely. Grabbing his sword and a sleeping bag, he turned to her.
She blinked at him, then down at the flask. "These are the supplies we needed to get here? Twenty percent of our supplies is alcohol?"
"Good point. Twenty percent is seriously underprovisioning - " Sensing a change in the air, he tossed her the sleeping bag as well, and unsheathed his sword.
In a cloud of smoke, Rök appeared, bloodied sword raised.
Holly jumped back, but Rök didn't miss a beat, lowering his weapon and raking his gaze over her. Still staring, he addressed Cade: "You dress her in a wet T-shirt and make her carry the bags? Damn, Cade, I like how you roll."
In Demonish, Cade said, "She doesn't know she's mine. She'll get an idea when I tear out your throat for ogling her like that."
"Point taken," Rök said smoothly in the same tongue, turning to Cade. "You've got a slew of leeches on the street, waiting for you to pull out. And two dead ones in the main house."
Cade sheathed his sword. "Lucky thing there's a back way out."
"You meeting up with Rydstrom?" At Cade's nod, he said, "Good luck with that. Enjoy her while you can."
"Are you going to provide a distraction? Or maybe you'll just get summoned away right when I need you most?"
Rök was one of his best men, but the demon got summoned more than anyone Cade had ever known.
"Swimbos," Rök said with an aggrieved shrug. Swimbos - Rök's play on She Who Must Be Obeyed. "Can I help it?"
"Yeah, you can, Rök." Smoke demons formed temporary pacts every time they had intercourse. Pacts allowed one to summon a demon at will. "Give celibacy a chance."
"Anything else you'd like me to do? Maybe something possible."
"Capture one of these vampires for info. Follow the trail and take out whoever ordered this. Also, get our crew to eradicate the rest of the Order of Demonaeus."
"Easy enough."
Cade took Holly's hand and dragged her toward the garage, but not before Rök let out a wolf whistle at her all too visible backside.
In English, Rök said, "Looks like you're getting a swimbo for yourself."
Cade yanked off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders. He bared his fangs at Rök, who merely gave a deep laugh.
"Who is that?" Holly whispered, cheeks flaming.
"Rök, a smoke demon. He's a mercenary in my crew. A fugitive. Lives under a terminate-at-will order in two dimensions." Cade took the bags from Holly. "As you can see, he's all broken up about it."
Inside the garage there was only one choice of vehicle. Rydstrom was driving his "normal" car, a rare Mercedes McLaren. And Cade had just hobbled his old truck.
All that was left was Rydstrom's pride and joy - which Cade and Rök were strictly forbidden to drive.
Desperate times, Rydstrom...
8
Cadeon popped the trunk of the most incredible vehicle Holly had ever seen, then hastily stowed their gear inside.
"What kind of car is this?" she asked, threading her arms into his jacket. It swallowed her. Though the bottom would probably hit him at the waist, it almost reached her knees.
"It's called a Veyron. It's my brother's." He unlocked the doors. "Quick - get in."
As she took her seat, he sank into his own, having to grasp his leg and drag it inside. At her look, he said, "The curse of the tall man in the small sports car."
She raised her brows at the plush interior. The dash was a brushed metal. The key looked like a minuscule USB drive.
Holly's dad had been a sports car enthusiast. She'd learned to drive in his Porsche Carrera and Maserati, and on many a Saturday, he'd taken her to auctions and shows. But Holly had never seen a car like this.
Cadeon pushed a button that said start and the garage-door opener at the same time. "Buckle up."
The seat belt was a four-point harness, a racing belt. As she hurriedly buckled it above her lap, he shifted into gear and pulled out.
The driveway from the garage split in two directions. He veered left, and the cement ended shortly, turning into a tree-covered lane. Slipping from that alley to another backstreet, he said, "I think we've lost them."
She glanced in the side-view mirror. Nothing but deserted streets. Then she turned to him with a frown. "You're not going to put on a seat belt?"
"Why would an immortal need one?"
"The law says you have to wear it."
"Human laws don't apply to my kind," he said.
"They should, especially since you're driving on human roads, operating a vehicle that was built by humans."
"That you know of. Are you really going to get your panties in a twist about this - oh, forgot you aren't wearing any."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "You're not going to distract me."
"You're not going to get me to wear a seat belt." At her look, he said, "Imagine the oldest, most stubborn, most cantankerous dog ever to live. He'd learn new tricks better than me."
Seeing the mulish set to his jaw, she decided to let it rest, for now. "Who was back at the house?"
"Vampires. They're hot on our trail, for some reason. They'll break into the pool house, find it full of smoke, and then lose their heads to Rök's sword."
"I see. What did he mean about a 'swimbo'? I probably wouldn't want to be called one, would I?"
"Some demons can get summoned, most often by the opposite sex. Swimbo is a play on She Who Must Be Obeyed."
"But why would he call me one?"
"It's kind of morphed into a sexual term for a female you wouldn't mind being summoned by."
"Oh."
"It's a compliment," he added.
"Of course. Since it's also a play on bimbo."
"Hey, I don't make the words, I just use them." When the traffic opened up, he was able to put the car through its paces, upshifting for speed. The ride was as smooth as silk
As the engine purred louder, he seemed to go heavy-lidded. "That sound never gets old."
She hadn't driven a fast car since her dad had died - her own vehicle was a hybrid - and she hadn't ever thought she'd missed it until now. "I've never seen this make."
"That's because there are only three hundred of them. It's the world's fastest and most expensive car."
"How fast does it go?" she asked.
"Over two hundred and fifty. Zero to sixty in under two and a half seconds."
She tried to imagine that. Full acceleration would be like riding a rocket.
"It runs a thousand and one horsepower," he added.
"Twice as much as a Porsche."
He looked startled. "How did you know that?"
"My dad was a car buff, and I used to go to auctions with him. Don't you think this will be conspicuous for our purposes?"
"We'll take my brother's other car when we meet him."
"What is he driving?"
"A McLaren," he answered. "It's a Merce - "
"I know what it is." She gave a laugh. "Not exactly the optimal choice for vehicle concealment."
Cadeon slanted her a surprised expression. "I was thinking the same thing."
The chit knew cars.
Demons loved cars. And Valkyrie. He was doomed.
She chose that moment to uncross and cross her smooth legs, drawing his eyes, reminding him that she wore no panties....
"Cadeon, eyes up!" She tugged on his jacket, but it had ridden up to her midthigh. "Clearly, I can't stay dressed like this."
"I've told you we can't go back to your loft."
"Then let me get a friend to meet us," Holly said. "I need to call her anyway to get her to stand in for my classes."
"Is she a good friend?"
When Holly nodded, he said, "Those demons knew enough about your teaching schedule to nab you easily. Would it be beyond them to keep a man on your friend's house?"
"But my glasses! She can bring my spare pair. I can't read anything without them."
Her glasses. Those small black ones that sat so sexily on her nose. They had the subtlest tilt at the corners, almost like cats' eyes, just enough to call to mind the fifties. The bombshells of the fifties.
He missed that decade.