Death's Lover (4 page)

His lips quirked as he brought the tumbler to his mouth and took a sip. It was just as he remembered it. Smoky, with a bitter hint of overripe cherries. It smoldered going down, making him feel like the flesh was being stripped off his throat.

“Reaper.”

The rumbling voice, that always made him think of a volcano ready to explode, could belong to none other than Bezel, demon of the lower night abyss. Cian had known Bezel for many centuries now, and though his kind rarely made friendly with someone not of their own caste, Bezel and he had developed a warped sort of bond through the years.

Cian turned and stared into glowing lavender eyes. “Bezel.” He frowned. “What are you doing in the mortal realm?”

The blond, trucker-cap-wearing demon raised a brow. A lascivious smirk was on his face as he hooked his thumb over his shoulder to the retreating figure of a man. “Been bound.”

Cian stared at the pale, freckle-faced sorcerer cutting a path through bodies toward the bathroom.

“Someone finally know your true name, demon?” Cian cocked his head. “Took me three centuries to learn it. Not the easiest name to find.”

Bezel shrugged. “That overinflated bag of dog waste thinks he does. But he don’t and he won’t.” A deep Kentucky twang twisted the demon’s words.

“You plan on telling him any time soon? Or are you going to let him discover that the way your last bindsmen have?”

The demon raised a brow, a smug look on his face. “What do you think? Pass up a chance for a little blood sport later? No way. You know the drill, Cian. I lull them into a false sense of security. Then bam!” He slammed his fist down on the bar. “When they need me most I turn on them instead. Ha…” Bezel shook his head. “Nothing better, ’cept for maybe
wratzling
a greased-up pig. Now that’s fun right there.”

“There” came out sounding more like “thur.”

“A greased-up pig?” Cian chuckled. When the demon set his mind to a character, person, place, or thing, he played the role better than an Oscar nominee. “Playing the country boy this time, I see?”

Bezel took a swig off the Corona bottle in his hand and burped. “Yeah. Been pretty fun. But I’m ’bout through with this one. He’s getting boring, thinks a little too highly of himself. Bastard. Thinking maybe I’ll twist his head clean off, or maybe fillet him down both sides.” He nodded, a pleased expression on his face. “What do you think?”

Cian shook his head, an I-don’t-wanna-go-there look on his face. “Little too gruesome for me, demon. How about I just take care of the mess afterward?”

Bezel gave a toothy grin.

Cian took another sip of the firewater, his gaze searching out his witch. She was still sitting in the booth, watching as her sisters gyrated on the dance floor.

It was as if time had been suspended. The thrum of music faded to an insignificant noise in the background. His only focus was on the dark witch. Watching her as she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and played with the silver bangles on her wrist.

He was aware of several men staring in her direction with something other than just mere curiosity. There was hunger, raw and wild, glittering in their eyes. Hers was an exotic beauty rarely seen. He seethed with jealousy, wanting to break several necks for even daring to let their gaze linger for too long. He chugged the last of the fiery brew and scrubbed a tired hand down his face. He shouldn’t be jealous; he shouldn’t be anything. The witch did not belong to him, but something about the woman twisted him up on the inside and made him think stupid, crazy thoughts. Thoughts like:
Mine. Mine. Mine.
What the hell was happening to him?

Bezel snapped his fingers, breaking Cian from his trance. The demon looked from Cian to his witch and back again. His lips curled into a slow smile.

“The death of a man is a woman.” His lavender eyes glowed like amethyst flames in the darkness.

Cian nodded and turned around, facing the bar once again. She was a topic he wasn’t willing to discuss, especially not with the demon. “So,” he said, switching subjects, “any of your bindsmen ever allowed to see your true form? I can’t imagine that anyone would bind you if they did.”

“Bastard.” Bezel snorted, a smirk curling his lips. “But no”—he swallowed the last dregs in his bottle—“don’t want any of them ever learning too much about me. Knowledge is power, and I ain’t in a sharin’ mood.” He shrugged. “Simpler to just become what they want. Makes it easier to control them later on.”

Cian’s brows drew together. “Then why disguise yourself as a corn-fed country boy?”

Bezel gave him a deadpan stare.

Then it clicked. “Ah. Of course.” He chuckled.

That moment to the next was a blur as rough hands yanked on Cian’s shoulder, twisting him around. Fangs dripping with saliva and the rage-twisted face of a were greeted him. “We don’t tolerate fae around these parts.”

Cian shouldered the hands off. “You have two seconds to get out of my face.”

The were growled, drawing attention from the group surrounding the bar. “Or what?” His spit landed on the side of Cian’s face. Brown eyes turned black with the beginnings of going feral.

Cian stood, his nose mere inches from the werepanther. The tension was as taut as a bowstring ready to snap.

Hair sprouted from the were’s body, bones cracked and snapped, beginning to reform. The panther pressed a heavy paw against Cian’s throat, its claws tearing slowly through his flesh.

Cian narrowed his eyes, his muscles tensing with the need to rip into the panther. But years had taught him patience. Anger made you sloppy, and he was waiting for the panther to screw up.

The half man, half cat screamed as only a panther could. The were prepared to strike.

Cian didn’t give him a chance. He struck first, grabbing the paw and crushing down. The sickening sound of tendon and bone breaking reverberated around them. The were screamed in agony and shifted back to human, falling to the ground in a writhing ball.

Lise’s gaze was on him, heavy and assessing. Pressing in, making him feel claustrophobic. He turned to look at her. She glanced from him to the fallen were and back again.

She snapped her fingers and the rolling body of the were disappeared.

“Nothing to see here. Dance,” Lise ordered to the immobile throng still held spellbound by the threat of violence lingering in the air. Her words were a compulsion to obey. At once they all dispersed and returned to what they were doing.

Bezel chortled. “Hell, man! Now that’s why I like you. Always guaranteed to see some action when you’re around. I promise if you ever bind me I’d probably let you live.” He slapped Cian on the back.

His heart thudded painfully against his chest knowing how close he’d come in one night to oblivion, first from The Morrigan and then from Lise. Thankfully she’d been aware it’d been the were who’d begun the fight. With Lise, there were never any bodies to recover, a mystery he’d always wondered about. What happened to the souls she made disappear? Did they simply cease to exist or were they sent to some sort of purgatory even death couldn’t reach?

“Dirty fae.” Bezel’s sorcerer appeared out of nowhere, wearing a mightier-than-thou sneer.

Cian turned to look at the slender frame of Bezel’s bindsman. Any empathy Cian had once held for the sorcerer’s ultimate fate melted.

“Come now, demon. I’ll not cavort with the likes of him.” He stamped off, heading toward the exit. “I’ll have to speak with Lise about this.”

Bezel stared at the retreating figure of his bindsmen. “On second thought, Cian, you’ll probably be cleaning up my mess sooner than later.”

Cian glanced at the exit as the sorcerer stepped through. But something else caught his eye.

His raven-haired witch.

Her brows were lowered, her lips parted, and she was projecting an intense feeling of confusion.

Not good.

W
here have I seen him before?
There was something oddly familiar about the man at the bar.

Eve studied him, perplexed as to why she couldn’t seem to rip her gaze away.

His hair was long. Longer than most men wore it, trailing to just below his shoulder blades. The soft blue lights illuminated the black-and-white strands, making them stand out in a bold relief of ebony and ice. It looked natural if only because he wore the look so well, which intrigued her more. What man had hair like that? Not normal.

The man was a chiseled beauty. He went way beyond handsome. Sculpted cheekbones. Square-cut jaw. Long, strong nose tapering into a full, firm mouth.

Just looking at him made her feel as if she’d bitten into decadence, and her body definitely noticed as hot shivers coursed down her spine. Her breathing increased by a notch.

Like two magnets being drawn together, he finally looked her way. Mesmerizing eyes the color of sea frost held her enthralled.

Those eyes.

A thread of a memory tried to worm its way out.

“Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Celeste grabbed her elbow.

Startled, Eve jumped. “What? Oh…him?”

Her sister’s full red lips curved. “Mmmhmm.”

She could lie, but the drool on her face was a dead giveaway. “Yes.” Her stomach clenched.

He wasn’t just gorgeous. He’d fully crossed over into the hot category.

“He’s gotta be vamp. Too pretty.” Celeste smacked her lips. “Just my type. Too bad he’s looking at you like you’re dinner. I wouldn’t mind a nibble before bed. Yum.”

Eve grinned. “You’re pathetic, Cel. There
is
such a thing as knowing too much.”

“Pft.” Celeste rolled her eyes. “Please, you’re my sister. You’ve heard worse.”

“Heard the panther he pounded call him a fae,” Eve said low. She knew all about them, but had never seen one for herself. Fae were said to be a dangerous seduction, leaving many a human to mourn lovers lost to their deaths.

But beneath the mythic beauty of a fae also lay a deadly history. Eve hadn’t been around during the Great Wars, but she’d lost several ancestors to the treachery of the faerie.

No one wise cavorted with them. Damn shame too. The tantalizing daydream of sleeping with the enemy never sounded more appealing. So long as it was tall, dark, and handsome over there.

Celeste narrowed her moss-green eyes. “No way,” she said with conviction. “He’s missing the ears. Definitely vamp. Besides”—she shrugged—“you know fae aren’t permitted in Club X. Lise would have kicked him out long ago.”

“True.” Eve smiled, her thoughts again veering toward the gutter. Suddenly he was even more appealing.

He was still staring at her with that same intensity, devouring her. A hot shiver traveled down her spine. The man was erotic turned flesh.

His looks made her think of a pirate, legs spread wide on the bow of his ship, hands resting casually on his hips. That long hair would be whipping behind him, white shirt exposed, tanned flesh peeking out, like one of those heroes on the covers of a cheesy romance novel.

Eve rolled her eyes at the image, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was so darn sexy, she’d have turned and walked away.

She imagined those full lips nuzzling her throat, maybe even the sharp scrape of fangs against her flesh. Liquid heat crashed between her thighs.

Down, girl!

“Hey, babe.” Celeste’s calm voice cast a spell, dragging Eve kicking and screaming back from her carnal thoughts. “You’re spitting energy like a firework. Turn down those projections, please. I would rather not know how sex-deprived my little sister is right now. Thanks.” She rubbed a hand down her arm. “Jeez, Lise worked a number on you.”

The fine hairs on Eve’s arms stood on edge. “Ugh. Sorry.” She turned her back on the man. “I don’t know what Lise did to me. I feel like a big ball of horny right now. Get me out of here before I embarrass myself.”

“Too late.” Celeste grinned and flipped her golden braid over her shoulder. “And good luck trying to get Tamryn away from that bear.”

Eve followed Cel’s pointing finger to see Tamryn with her arms wrapped around a big hulk of a were, laughing. He was a nice, dark ebony. A werebear. Just Tamryn’s type. She always did go a little nutso over them. Something to do with the myth being true. Eve hadn’t wanted to ask more.

“Well,” she sighed. “Maybe we can stay a little longer.”

“Eve. Celeste, this is Harry,” Tamryn said, making quick introductions.

Eve stuck out her hand. “Hey.”

His grip was firm, the skin rough but pleasant. He grinned, revealing a straight row of white teeth.

“Hey, witchy woman.”

Her lips quirked and she shot Tamryn a look.
Witchy woman?
Only through sheer will did she refrain from rolling her eyes. Like she hadn’t heard that one before.

Tamryn seemed oblivious, a goofy grin on her face.

“Right.” Eve dropped his hand, not altogether happy with the way the bear kept pinching Tamryn’s ass. Her sister had terrible taste in men. “Well, let’s go, please. I’m tired.”

It was well past midnight, the time when all the baddies went bump in the night. Sorry, but she wasn’t really in the mood to become someone’s light snack.

She thought of frost-blue eyes and smirked. Well, for the right baddie she just might.

Eve walked quickly through the club, down the stairs, and out the entryway. As soon as she stepped foot outside, she took a deep breath. The city smelled of salt, fish, and danger. It quivered below the surface, like a pot of water two seconds before boiling. San Francisco always seemed on the brink of erupting into violence. And she loved it.

This was home. Truth was, she felt more at peace living alongside the so-called evil. Maybe because she was one of them. Solidarity in numbers. It was comforting. Peaceful, even.

Her sisters and Harry finally caught up. Eve snuggled deeper into the black leather trench coat. It was just this side of nippy tonight, but that tended to happen living so close to the bay. Regardless that it was nearly springtime.

They walked.

Minutes later, Harry growled low in his throat, alerting her a split second before her natural instincts kicked in that something was really wrong. She stopped walking. An unmistakable prickle of danger danced across her flesh.

The sisters huddled close. They linked hands and waited to see if the threat would pass and leave them be, or insist in drawing them into a battle. Fear thundered in her ears as she listened to the sounds of night. The soft lap of water against rocks, the buzz of flickering streetlamps. She closed her eyes, searching, stretching her senses.

A soft bump. The distinctive crunch of bones. The sound slithered down her spine and coiled around her heart.

She opened her eyes. Whatever
it
was, was in the alley.

“Tamryn,” she hissed. “What the hell is out there?”

Tamryn’s violet eyes were wide. “I can’t place its aura.”

Things were going from bad to worse. Tamryn was a rock. Her powers never backfired. She’d always been depended upon to get a read on a person’s aura and tell the sisters what it was and how to prepare. Run, stay, or hide. It was creepy not knowing what lay up ahead.

She licked her lips, the uneasy feeling that they were walking into a trap making her breathless.

Celeste groaned. “Great time for your powers to fizz out on us. What do we do now?”

Harry was in the halfway stage between bear and man. His muzzle was there, but the incisors weren’t. He was still able to talk. “There’s no other escape. We have to cut through the alleyway. Just follow me. We’re four to its one. We should be fine.”

Then he dropped to his knees and switched to bear. Black, thick hairs tore through his skin. His feet and hands transformed into large, heavy paws. Lethal-looking claws ripped through the toes. He was frightening in were form.

Eve liked him a little bit better for it. But just a little.

Harry lumbered forward and they followed.

Each step she took sounded like thunder to her ears. She tried to hold her breath. She didn’t want the thing to notice them at all.

This wasn’t some vamp or were out for food. This thing could only be an ancient if it’d been able to block Tamryn’s mental push, and from the frantic sounds of slurping, it was enjoying itself way too much.

Her gaze shifted around the slithering shadow of the alleyway. The sounds were getting louder. They were close.

A blur of red standing beside a Dumpster caught her eye. Its silhouette was man. It didn’t move. Her skin crawled, like the feeling of having a thousand maggots roll across her body.

Eve bit her lip, thinking it might be the ancient something. But the slurping was still going on a little farther up.

She clenched Cel’s hand so hard she bunched the fingers. Her sister hissed and glanced at her.

Eve pointed at the Dumpster, but the man was gone.

Icy fear rammed through her skull.

Then suddenly the night exploded with sound.

Harry was standing on his hind legs, swiping with a massive paw at a hunched figure.

The figure roared and with a taloned hand ripped into Harry’s stomach. The bear snarled and rammed its head into the creature’s shoulder.

It stumbled back, but didn’t fall. The thick stench of blood filled the night like a beacon. Soon it would attract every vamp and were to the area like a shark’s feeding frenzy. They needed to end this now.

The sisters formed a circle and began to chant. A red haze seeped from the silver talismans hanging around their necks. The large center stone of Eve’s necklace, a ruby, began to glow with heat and shots of red flame. It was the manifestation of their power. It grew bigger, wider, transforming into the image of a burning phoenix. Orange flames snapped and popped from the body of the bird. Its great golden beak rose into the air, and it let out a piercing scream of warning.

But the fighting between Harry and the creature was far from over. The creature grabbed Harry around the middle and threw him against a brick wall. The side of the building shuddered and cracked. Dust and stone flew through the air.

To throw a half-ton bear through the air like it weighed no more than a feather brought fear, sharp and twisting, to Eve’s gut. What was this thing?

She didn’t have to wait long for an answer. The creature unfurled from its crouching stance and faced them, half in and half out of shadow. A streetlamp illuminated its features.

“Oh my god!” Tamryn breathed.

A chill black silence enveloped them.

Demon. It was a demon. They couldn’t contain it. Not without its true name.

It advanced. Each step deliberate. Slow. Toying with them. Lavender eyes, set in a farm-boy face, glowed with malice.

Her heart slammed against her ribs and yet she couldn’t rip her gaze away, like watching a train headed straight at you. Knowing you had no chance to escape the death that awaited on impact.

As one, the sisters hurled their phoenix into the advancing form of the demon. The demon hissed and spit, swiping at the burning fire as the phoenix gouged into his flesh with its dagger-like beak.

The battle was intense and the sisters trembled, trying to contain their energy as the demon ripped and clawed at their bird.

Sweat beaded on Eve’s brow, her body ached as she pushed her will at the creature. Black tracks of ooze slid down the demon’s sun-kissed face, but it wasn’t enough. With one mighty swipe, the demon cowed the phoenix and twisted its head off, shattering the illusion and knocking the sisters to the ground, spent and shivering.

Small stones and rubble bit into Eve’s cheek. The chill from the asphalt seeped into her pores. Her jaw clattered as the numbing cold of ice traveled through her veins, freezing her from the inside out. They’d used too much magick; she had none left to defend herself. Blearily she looked for her sisters, fear hammering in her heart for their safety.

Then her eyes widened as the silhouette of the man she’d seen standing by the Dumpster appeared by the demon’s elbow. He was whispering words she couldn’t decipher.

The demon grinned and then his gaze zeroed in on her. That’s when she knew…

She’d been marked for death.