Know Thine Enemy

CHAPTER Fourteen



Izzie wrestled with exhaustion, losing several times before finally convincing herself she couldn't lie in bed the rest of her life. Her body felt sore and tense, the way it did after a long fight, and while she remembered where she was the second her eyes fought open, the knowledge of what waited beyond the closed bedroom door was too confusing to face first thing after waking up.

Hell, after these last few days, she felt she could sleep forever.

The next step remained ambiguous. Briggs's men would undoubtedly be combing the area in search of their lost prisoners, if not for the sake that they had escaped then certainly for the two dead bodies they'd stepped over to do so. While Izzie wasn't necessarily eager to uproot from the small haven Ryker had discovered, she likewise felt too wound with nervous energy to envision staying put too long.

Though what she might return to, she hadn't the slightest. Wright was likely halfway across the country by now, and with him the only hint of the life she'd known. Izzie knew her apprehension was based on uncertainty—she definitely couldn't return to hunting demons and vampires. Even those deserving her blade were no different than the lengthy list of human criminals, and she wouldn't start doling out punishment indiscriminately. She wouldn't become something she hated.

Reuniting with Wright wouldn't change anything. Thus she was left alone.

Not alone.

Izzie sighed, forcing herself upright in bed. Presuming anything was dangerous now, especially regarding her traveling companion. A part of her desperately wanted to cling to him, but that wasn't fair. She knew Ryker well enough to understand he wouldn't refuse her—his sense of responsibility for what had transpired far outweighed his personal feelings for her or whatever had happened between them. Yet relying on the bond they'd forged wouldn't be fair to either of them right now, no matter how appealing.

She wished she had the wiring to fall back asleep without effort. Since she didn't, though, there seemed little point in remaining in bed. Izzie tossed her covers aside and kicked her legs over the edge of the mattress. She yawned and stretched, taking in her surroundings. The room looked a little different in the light of day. The walls, which she'd assumed were white, were actually baby-blue and hosted several framed inspirational posters, along with the famed Footprints poem above the headboard. Her bed, larger than those found in the average motel room, was adorned with soft sheets and a few hand-woven quilts. A ratty dresser leaned against the wall to her left; a window was at her right. The room looked domestic and homey, but aside from the clothes she'd stripped and dumped at the foot of the bed, there wasn't anything to indicate the space was used but once or twice a year. No hairbrush or comb or any of the thousands of other everyday things.

Thankfully the dresser wasn't empty. Whoever utilized the cabin kept a healthy supply of jeans and various t-shirts with company logos. She selected a pair of sweats and a pink t-shirt that read If You Want The Job Done Right, Hire A Woman in gaudy block letters, and after unsuccessfully scouring the room for a hair-tie, concluded she couldn't hide forever.

The door across the hall was closed. Izzie stared at it for a long moment before expelling a deep breath. With the sun out, Ryker likely wouldn't be up for a few hours, which left her with the unenviable task of sorting through the mess of confusing thoughts racking her tired mind. She supposed she could tap on the door and see if he wanted company, but that seemed foolish and desperate. No one she knew wanted company while they slept, and she was the one who had imposed the distance between them for want of discovering which feelings were true and which were fabrications of circumstance. Still, for everything that had happened in the last few days, she liked knowing someone was near. She liked knowing she could turn to him if need be.

Yet she also wanted the comfort of time and space to figure out how she felt about him. About what had happened. About everything.

Izzie snorted in disgust and turned to the bathroom. She tore the drawers open until she located a brush, three packaged toothbrushes, and an unopened tube of travel toothpaste. Behind the mirror sat several mini deodorant sticks—mostly unisex, but she unearthed one that smelled of lilacs. There were also several bottles of aspirin, and though most had expired, one would be good until Christmas. It was good to know, if nothing else.

Feeling more human than she had in days, Izzie wandered into the living room and flopped onto the sofa. On a normal day, she would turn on the television, stretch while catching up on the news or the occasional afternoon soap, and wait until Wright called to figure out what he had in mind for that night's hunt. Granted, on a normal day, she wouldn't be in the middle of nowhere on the run from the government, shacked up with a vampire who had done more to f*ck with her head than a whole team of Briggs-like assistants ever could.

A few days was all it'd taken to throw everything she knew into jeopardy.

What had happened in the cell felt like a CHAPTER of someone else's life. The second Ryker touched her, the second she surrendered herself to what she could not change, an inner Izzie she'd never known existed had emerged. An Izzie who needed and yearned, craved something beyond food and shelter, and while that might be ordinary for other people, she wasn't accustomed to reaching for anything she couldn't touch. Wanting someone sexually was a new sensation, but what she wanted was more of the emotions Ryker's caresses evoked than the touches themselves.

She'd wafted through loneliness so long anything else seemed frightening and unreal. Ryker understood her more than anyone else had ever attempted. He'd been demonized for things he couldn't change, had made decisions he regretted, and had an understanding of humanity not unlike her own. He made her feel safe and calm, and those were things to which she'd never successfully clung.

And she liked him. That was the kicker. Izzie truly enjoyed Ryker's company, whether or not he breached her comfort zone. She liked the way she felt when he looked at her. She liked the way he kept her on her toes. She liked that he wasn't as tough or hardened as he appeared, and how his eyes betrayed what he wanted to keep secret.

She liked the way he touched her. She liked the taste of his kiss, brief as it had been.

Izzie worried a lip between her teeth, her growling stomach reminding her it had been days since she'd had a reliable meal. By virtue of a can opener, she helped herself to some of the canned pasta.

As it turned out, a full stomach did little to ease her conscience. Two cans of SpaghettiOs and half a gallon of water later, she was again left alone with her thoughts, only this time without the cushion of hunger to dull the buzz. Her life suddenly felt vacant and empty. She'd never imagined she'd be left with nothing to do but watch television.

The news provided nothing new. A few stories about whatever election was on the horizon, or had just occurred, or something, and a fluff piece about a local dog that rescued its owner from a fire. The other stations yielded nothing better. Lifetime movie, Springer episode, and the hidden channel that was nothing but porn.

Izzie paused, a sense of shame coursing through her body only to be shoved aside by a potent wave of arousal. She had only viewed pornographic material once before—as a shared experience with Wright to put her in the mood before he popped her cherry. She hadn't enjoyed it much then, as she hadn't been entirely enthusiastic about what was about to commence. Sure, her body had responded naturally at the sight of intimate acts being broadcast, and since she had read somewhere the mind behaved like one large sex organ, she'd found herself ready and willing to go, even if her heart hadn't been in it.

There were some people who simply weren't meant to be lovers.

In a thousand years, Izzie would never have expected to respond to anything remotely sexual in the aftermath of what she'd been through. Yet within a few minutes of watching a nameless stranger go to town on some girl's p-ssy, she couldn't deny the way her body warmed, or how slick and hot the space between her legs felt.

And just as quickly she was back in her cell, her body stripped naked and Ryker's face pressed against her mound, his tongue tickling her * as his fingers slipped inside her hot channel. Those stolen moments, confusing as they had been, had likewise given her freedom beyond anything she'd ever experienced. She'd felt feminine and desirable—she'd felt liberated. No more denying herself the simpler pleasures of life because of what she was and with whom she traveled. She was just Izzie, and the sensation had been wondrous.

Perhaps they should have discussed more of what had transpired between them. As it was, Izzie had no idea where to begin. Something had crawled inside her, hatching into a version of herself she had no desire to leash.

Izzie shifted and slipped a hand beneath the waistband of her sweats, her fingers dancing through her pubic curls. Unlike the girl on screen, she wasn't waxed or shaven, and though she knew it was useless mulling over what Ryker might prefer on his women, she couldn't help but wonder if he'd frowned when he'd first glanced at her p-ssy. If he'd looked at her and found something wanting—if he'd disliked her appearance or taste. Perhaps he'd found her too bony. She was unhealthily thin—she ate too little for what she demanded of her body. A vampire likely wouldn't look at her with any degree of yearning.

But then again, why the f*ck should she care?

Her index finger landed on her *. Izzie hissed and arched her hips, her head rolling back, even as her eyes remained glued to the television. On screen, a bottle blonde with huge tits smiled at the camera, a cock sliding in and out of her p-ssy as the head of another caressed her mouth. The man between her legs enjoyed only a few quick thrusts before he moved aside and was replaced with another, and so it went. The flippancy with which partners were exchanged stirred some sense of obligatory objection, but it quickly washed away for the want of Ryker.

"Ryker . . . ."

This was wrong. God, everything about this was wrong. What she'd experienced should have been enough to convince her to swear off sex forever—should have made Ryker the last man she'd choose, and yet for as much as she fought her desire, the more she wanted him. The more she craved feeling his body over hers, his mouth on her flesh, his hands on her breasts and his cock between her legs. She wanted him to take what he'd kept himself from claiming, wanted to feel him inside her as she'd never wanted a man.

Something was seriously wrong with her. Beyond what she craved and how badly, how she could go from the cell to this?

Izzie gasped, her body spiraling into a hard but thoroughly unsatisfying orgasm.

A new day and she still didn't know who she was or what had become of the girl she was used to seeing in the mirror.

The world felt hollow and empty, and she had no idea how to make things right again.

Or at least get back to a place where her head didn't hurt to consider the implications of what she had become.



* * * * *



He found Izzie sitting on the sofa watching an old episode of The Twilight Zone. If possible, she looked more exhausted than she had last night.

"Hello," Ryker said softly, offering a strained smile for lack of anything else.

Izzie nodded. "Hi."

"How long have you been up?"

"Few hours." She pressed her lips together. "There's food in the kitchen. Not much, but enough for a few days. For me, at least."

He inclined his head. "That's good."

Izzie nodded again, her gaze fixating on the wall. Seemed whatever distance she'd imposed the night before had done little more than confuse matters, though he wasn't surprised. Despite his feelings and the strange attachment he'd developed where she was concerned, Ryker had no business assuming what she thought or felt, especially in the aftermath of what they'd experienced.

He just wanted to know where he stood and if there was a way, no matter how remote, that he could make whatever was eating at her an easier burden to bear.

"What will you do?" Izzie asked softly.

"What?"

"For food."

Ryker's eyes couldn't help but seek the mark on her throat, his stomach responding with a timely rumble. "Figure there are plenty woodland creatures around these parts," he reasoned, forcing his attention away from her neck. "Haven't been on an old fashioned hunt in some time. Figure I oughta remind myself how good I have it back home."

"You don't want to . . . ." Izzie frowned and indicated herself awkwardly.

"You?"

"Yeah." She paused, then shook her head. "Sheesh, if Zack could hear me now…"

The name poked the jealousy that had taken residence in his chest the night before, and he didn't care to linger. Instead, Ryker barked a short, forced laugh, and took a detour to a different subject. "Think you're forgetting something. Already sampled you once. Twice is pushing it."

"Oh." She bit her lip and looked down, her cheeks reddening. "Shit, I forgot about that."

"Was it so forgettable?"

Her eyes went wide. "No!"

"Relax, cutie. I'm teasing."

"Everything's just so muddled now."

"I know. But you shouldn't go around offering your throat to strange vampires."

Her expression softened. "You're not strange."

"First time I've heard that." Ryker offered a gentle smile. "Three bites. That's all it takes, and it's the sort of thing you wanna make a point to remember. I can't promise to be a gentleman if you put yourself on a platter."

"I'm sorry." Izzie shook her head and pressed a hand to her brow. "My mind's all over the place. I'm still, I dunno, expecting to wake up and be back there."

Ryker fell silent at that, at a loss for words and not knowing where to look for them.

"I'm just not used to this," she continued.

"Wouldn't think so."

"Well, any of it." Izzie exhaled deeply. "I've never not done anything, you know? And this place is so quiet. Nothing is ever quiet where I come from. It's all noise all the time—loud and chaotic and there's always something. I don't even hear the cars on the freeway here. And now I'm sitting here looking toward—what, exactly? I left everything back home."

Ryker's resolve to avoid the uncomfortable Wright subject at once abandoned him. "You mean your friend." Jealousy reared again just at the thought of him—Wright. The a*shole demon hunter who had shoved his personal tragedy onto Izzie's willing shoulders, training and molding her into something she wasn't, and taking her virginity while he was at it.

Ryker sucked in his cheeks and looked away.

Izzie appeared to consider his words for a long moment before ultimately shrugging and falling back against the cushion. "Yes and no, I guess. I mean, I wouldn't go back to life with him the way it was for anything. Whatever's happened here, with us—everything's changed now, you know? I just don't have anything back home." She broke off with a humorless laugh. "F*ck, I don't even have a home. St. Louis wasn't home—it was a pit stop. It wasn't supposed to be more or less or any different from any place we'd been, and here I am."

Ryker took a step forward. "It would've happened sooner or later."

"The kidnapping?"

"You and Zack aren't the same type of animal, Izzie. I've seen his kind before, and f*ck all if there aren't a thousand like him. All with their stories—how we f*cked them over."

Her shoulders tensed. "Zack deserves his pound of flesh."

"From who, though? You? Way I see it you've already given him that." Ryker sighed and brought his hands up. "I don't wanna get into a tiff about you and Butch, but—"

"Don't worry."

The lack of fight in her voice lent him pause. "What?"

"I'm coming to terms with many things I've learned in the past few days," Izzie explained. "And I already had this fight with Zack, so there's little sense in bringing it up again. I'm just feeling . . . lost and confused and pissed as a motherf*cker and sad and—"

"Human?"

Her nose wrinkled. "Is that what this is?"

"Seem to remember going through a spell of that, myself."

Izzie offered a soft smile, genuine this time, and the effect left him humming with warmth. "I know things will even themselves out," she said. "One way or another. Nothing's been able to kill me yet, and not for lack of trying."

"Whoever tries to f*ck with you has my pity."

"I just wish I had an idea of what was waiting on the other side of this." Izzie sighed and stretched. "How long do you want to stay here?"

"You wanting to head out already?"

"No. I just know we can't stay here forever."

Ryker nodded, though the thought of being holed indefinitely with a gorgeous spitfire wasn't at all unpleasant. "I figure another day at least. If we stay too long, we'll attract someone's attention. Even out here."

"And the owners might come back."

"A sensible assumption." Ryker started toward the door. "Gonna go hunt me a deer or whatever other critter comes my way. You plan on holding down the fort?"

"Guess there's nothing else." She met his gaze. "Be careful."

He shrugged. "Who you talking to?"

Her eyes narrowed, and another burst of warmth spread through his chest. The familiarity with which she regarded him would make a cynic believe anything was possible.

As it was, the road behind them had left them both damaged. He had no idea if they would ever converge again.

All he had was time, and the hope it truly could heal all wounds.

Didn't seem too much to ask.