Defying Instinct (Demon Instinct Series) (13 page)

After
Jake and Holly left, their business card with multiple ways of contacting them
in my hand, I convinced Benn to go home and sleep off his stupor.  With a
scowl, Rowan followed him, so I knew he was as safe as he could be.  I was
starting to suspect there was no immediate danger.  None of my sentries acted
worried anymore.

I was
awed by the affect Holly had on my friend.  Benn wasn’t that type of guy.  If
he wanted someone, he’d never had trouble getting her.  With Holly, it was
different.  He was different.

Suspicion
pinballed around my head again. 

I
showered and considered changing back into Rowan’s sage green not-cashmere sweater,
even though I’d worn it for over twenty-four hours, yesterday evening, to bed,
while shopping, to class.  I decided to risk something else.

The
best option I had was a Rams jersey, because it was ginormous and hung down to
my knees, the sleeves to my elbows, and was size XXL on my small frame.  But it
was scratchy as hell.

The
bell on the front door hadn’t chimed, but I heard male footsteps downstairs.  Rowan
had returned.  I sucked it up and tried to ignore the niggling annoyance that
went along with every movement, every single breath.  I couldn’t, however, help
but fidget.

As
expected, Rowan was waiting for me in The Bookstore, the front door closed and
locked, just as I’d left it.  Clearly, Rowan hadn’t used it.  He jumped in.  I
wondered if there were any limitations on that ability, but by his typical,
raised-hackles look, I tucked the question away for later.

“Benn
get home okay?”

He
grunted.

Pursing
my lips, I said, “I expected you to jump in and go all alpha male on me
before.”

“You
had it under control,” his smoky voice soothing to my sensitive ears.

I
did have the situation under control.  I’d handled Holly and Jake by myself,
and that made pride swell in my chest.  But that didn’t mean Rowan
understanding that shocked me any less.  And that didn’t mean I didn’t expect
him to demand to know what they said either.

“Cyrus
is on guard tonight,” Rowan said without another word on the subject of Holly
and Jake, surprising me once again.  “He will return after his aide
responsibilities to Grayson are completed.”

Grumbling
as I gingerly tried to sit on the couch, not caring that Rowan stood close by,
towering over me.  Watching how I struggled.  When I couldn’t stand it, I stood
back up and heaved an irritated groan.

“We
should train.”  It was peculiar, but I felt a wave of an apology roll off him.

Feeling
the weight of the day bearing down on my body, fraying my mind, and the skin on
moving asphalt feeling my jersey was giving me, I sighed.  “You know, after the
shopping fiasco, Grayson coming on to me, class and Dmitri, Holly and Jake, and
Benn acting all googily…and
you
, I’ve had a little too much people time
today.  Can’t we just—”

“The
sooner you learn, the sooner you can be rid of me.”  The small, apologetic wave
was gone.  This was the Rowan I knew, inconvenienced and irritated.

Geez,
he acted like I was the one who hated him, when it was obviously the other way
around.  Consciously, I projected frustration and a kind of hassled surrender
that I found hilarious. 

Hassled
surrender was a good definition for what I felt from Rowan a lot of the time. 

“Besides,”
he said, his usually snide tone lightening slightly.  “High emotions and
frazzled nerves are good.  It’ll ignite your…considerable temper.”

He
smiled, and something tightened in my belly, making me rock back on my heels.  I’d
seen him fully smile once before…but wow.  It changed his entire presence.  Yet,
as quickly as it came, it was gone, replaced with the Hammer demon’s favorite,
grouchy expression.

And
the rocking movement made me once again aware of how uncomfortable I was in my
clothes.  I pulled at the material, trying to keep it off my skin, only to
subject another part of my body to the rough fabric.

I
squirmed, and felt a shadow of the smoke-and-fire I used to know stir.

“Oh,
for crying out loud,” Rowan grumbled, then in one swift motion, pealed his
chocolate sweater over his head and threw it at me, leaving him in that white
t-shirt again.

I opened
my mouth to protest, but that was before the soft, incredible material fell
into my hands.  It was still warm from Rowan’s body heat and smelled like
heaven.

Without
thinking, without considering propriety, I turned my back to the demon, climbed
out of the scratchy, hell-fire inducing jersey, and climbed into the warm
softness of Rowan’s delicious sweater.

Pleasure
made me quiver.

When
I turned around, Rowan’s eyes were huge, the champagne flecked with
astonishing, pure white gold.

At
first, I thought I’d disgusted him.  I should have gone upstairs to change.  I
wasn’t wearing a bra, and even with my back turned, I could have offended him
with the way I looked.  This was exactly why I always changed for class in the
bathroom stalls.

Then
I remembered I no longer looked like that disfigured, pasty skinned thing.  And
instantly I knew the white gold in Rowan’s eyes wasn’t from disgust.

I
think every inch of my skin blushed.

After
a moment, I realized he could probably feel my projected emotions, and blushed
even more furiously.

After
a little embarrassed stammering, I managed to telepath,
Thank you for the
sweater,
then said, “Again.”

Rowan
rubbed a hand across his mouth roughly, then pinched the bridge of his nose
with his eyes closed.  “If you don’t learn not to project, you’ll be the death
of me.”

I
could have imagined he was joking if not for the menacing way his champagne
eyes were shattered with white gold when he looked at me again.  He looked dangerous.

Training
then?
I asked, suddenly worried for
Rowan’s control.  I’d never seen him lose it, and he was fairly contained even
now, if not for the turbulence in his gaze.

“Tell
me about your day,” through clenched teeth.

No
pomp and circumstance with this male.

Unable
to be more creative, I opted for the full truth. 
It sucked. 

“Tell
me of something you like,” Rowan snapped, his words abrupt, his eyes looking
past me.  Guess short answers weren’t going to do the trick.

It
took a few moments before I could think of things to answer with.  But once I
got the first few out, other things came easily.

Laughing
with Benn.  Sparring with Dmitri.  Honey, lemons, Sriracha hot sauce.  Great
books with satisfying endings.  The bang-ring of The Bookstore cash register
closing after a sale.  The smell of…

…
male demon mixed with the homey scent of books and wood of my bookstore.  But I
wasn’t about to tell him that because it was
his
scent I was inhaling so
deeply, and the way it mingled with the rich leather and old paper was too
intoxicating to face right now.

“The
smell of?” he prodded.

…books,
I thought to him, wondering if the sheepish way the
one word sounded in my head projected into the telepath.

“Now
tell me what you hate,” he said in his knowing way, but instantly, as my mind
filled with all the things I despised, I stopped analyzing every minute twitch
of the Hammer’s expressions.

I
hate it when someone asks if I’ve got something, like a pile of books in my
arms, and I say I’m fine, and they grab for them anyway.

I
hate when authors use words repeatedly in a novel no one ever uses in real
life.  Assuage.  Acquiesce.  Chagrin.  It’s just…distracting!

Rowan
was smirking, so I narrowed my eyes at him.  “What?”

He
shook his head.  “
You
use words no one ever uses in real life.”

Ignoring
him, because there were a lot of things I hated,
And cliffhangers are pure
evil.

I
hate when Grayson tries his dirty, Incubus tricks on me.

And
I hate that allegiance junk.

Out
of the two million vivid thoughts of things I hated surging through my head, I
had no idea why this was the one I chose to share with Rowan, of all demons. 
But it came out, like it needed to be said.

I
hate that I’m twenty and haven’t experienced anything.  I hate that I blamed it
on my looks, but now I know I chose not to even try, and for that I have to
take responsibility for all the disappointment in my life.  And I hate that
I’ve only just realized how I’ve held myself back.

My
eyes stung, and I blinked until my vision wasn’t blurry anymore.  Where had all
that come from?

“You
shouldn’t bear that blame,” Rowan said reluctantly, as if he wasn’t sure he
wanted to cross some sort of line.  His eyes were back to normal now, glistening
champagne.

Shouldn’t
I?

“You
wouldn’t have realized you felt this way if it hadn’t been for the glamour.”

Slowing
my breathing and forcing my hands against my sides so they’d stop shaking, I
knew he was right.  Hadrian didn’t just lift away my ugly glamour.  I’d never
felt like I felt now.  As my heart beat double time and my stomach twisted with
feelings I didn’t understand, I knew I never had emotions so pure.

Do
you think my… humanity…was muted?

“Yes,”
with confidence, but his champagne eyes were evasive as he said, “you were an
outline before.  A shade.  Nothing more.” 

My
face burned, and my arms suddenly felt heavy, but I didn’t know why.

Rowan
swallowed so hard I could hear it from across the room.  When he spoke again,
he looked directly at my face, those incredible eyes penetrating deep into me.

“Now
you are a forest fire.”

Before
I even had a chance to consider what to say, what the ringing in my ears and
the quickening of my pulse meant, Rowan disappeared.

The
unexpected ice storm began around noon the next day.  When pellets started
pinging off the roof and against the windows, I peeked around the shades over
the windows as the hairdressers from next door and the real estate agents from
across the street retreated for the cover of their homes in droves.  I was glad
I lived in the same place I worked.  It meant I didn’t have to brave the
weather.

Except
The Bookstore wasn’t open.  Still a wasteland from what I’d done, though, it
looked better than it had.  Bookshelves were back up.  The ceiling was fixed.  The
wallpaper stripped and replaced.  The floors were no longer covered with ash, white,
powdery plaster and wood splinters.  The only thing missing were about
two-thirds of the books that once filled the shelves. 

I
still didn’t know how I caused so much damage.  I couldn’t face finding out.

I
made a call to our book distributor.  But with the weather, it would probably
be a few days before any part of my order was filled.

Since
there were no patrons, I’d been completely alone since Cyrus left before
sunrise.

When
I awoke—or got up, since there wasn’t much sleeping involved last night thanks
to my hyper-sensitive skin—and there wasn’t a demon on the sofa or sentry
outside The Bookstore, my unease was startling.  The damage had been done.  The
glamour was lifted.  I’d survived a few days without incident.

Demonkind
around the world probably knew I existed now, where to find me, and what I looked
like.  But none of them had shown up brandishing fiery swords and ominous orbs
of energy.  So far, I’d been safe.  Well watched over.  Protected, like Jake
and Holly pointed out last night.

At
the time, I’d been mildly annoyed by the constant demon presence.  But now, looking
around an abandoned bookstore with the promise of being snowbound for a few
days because of the ice storm, without the seductive eyes of a Tempter, the
conflicted gaze of a dimpled Hammer, or the judgy, watchful stare of champagne,
I was worried.

Would
the ice keep demons—the good ones and the maybe not so good ones—away?  Was my
life even in jeopardy? 

When
Cyrus asked to leave this morning, I didn’t hesitate to say goodbye.  They
didn’t seem to think I was in any danger anymore.

I
needed a task.  That was the problem.  I needed something to focus on or I
would have to start thinking about
everything
.  I wasn’t ready to, but
the thoughts kept coming.

Unfortunately
for him, Cyrus was the subject of my interrogation last night.  Since my nerves
and temper were on the fritz after Rowan jumped away, I wouldn’t accept Cy’s
evasiveness. 

He
said, after some persistence, no one had actually challenged Iliana’s rule, or
come forward against my Scion status.  There were concerns.  Interest.  But no
real threats.  To kill a member of the Royal family meant war, unless it was a
coup to take over government.  And demons relied on diplomacy now before
full-out rebellion.

So who
hired Hadrian?  Who had been the highest bidder, as he put it?  I thought
before, because of what Rowan said in the warehouse, that it was Faction.  If
they didn’t want a half-caste Scion and they knew there were vigilante demons
out there somewhere trying to kill me, all they had to do was make finding me
easier by giving them a clear, unglamoured target.

But
then, just like I’d wondered and Rowan had considered yesterday, if they wanted
me out of the way, why not have Hadrian kill me in the first place?

Maybe
the demon who hired the Sorcerer knew that, if the world was aware of who I
was, saw by our similarity in looks that I was Iliana’s daughter, I was Scion. 
Meaning no demon could touch me.

Maybe
my mother was the one who wanted me out in the open, for my protection.  But
that felt like a childish hope, not a real possibility.

Was
there another player?

Or
was there a multitude of factors I knew nothing about, and speculating at all
was pointless?

Probably. 
What did I know?  Lots of things I thought I knew about demons were proving to
be false.  Or at least tactically inaccurate so humans never fully knew what
they were up against.  My demon half understood tactical inaccuracy.

I
had Demonology books in The Bookstore, and one I used to study in junior high
up in my apartment, but if the information in them was false, it wouldn’t do
any good to review them.  The only way I knew for certain I could learn the
truth was to ask Grayson, Rowan, and Cy. 

If I
were brave, I’d even ask to meet more demons.  Or get the courage up to use Dmitri’s
talisman, which was apparently what the little chess pawn he gave me last night
at class was.  Cy was a wealth of knowledge once his vault was pried open.

Or I
could call Holly and Jake, and see what they were willing to share.

I
wondered if my three sentries would be on board for that one.

As
if they heard me thinking about them, the three demons came stumbling into the
store without knocking.  At least they used the door this time.  Usually they
just jumped in without warning.

Ice clung
in their hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes.  None of their coloring looked right,
dulled and pale with bright, chapped cheeks and unsettlingly blue lips. 
Sweaters with no jackets had snow and ice clinging to them, and stuck to their
well-muscled forms which shook uncontrollably.  They shivered, teeth
chattering.

Concern
struck me, and I was alarmed by the intensity of my distress.  I didn’t stop to
think why.

Waving
for them to follow, they trudged behind me, quaking, teeth thundering all the
way up to my apartment.  When they were in, I shut the door and pointed to the couch. 
Flipping on my area heater, I moved it to the coffee table as the demons
reluctantly sat.

As
soon as they thawed out, they would be fine. 

They’d
be fine. 

He’d
be fine.

Not
understanding my own thoughts was disturbing.  Zipping around the room, shaking
off the strange beat of concern in my head, I filled and switched on my
electric kettle, grabbed my bedding, and draped it over broad, demon shoulders.

Nothing
was defrosting them.  Ice melted from their hair, but their coloring was still
off, their lips still blue and quivering.

When
the electric kettle chimed, I left them in my living room and went to my small
kitchen, knowing hot liquid would warm them better than anything.  My hands
shook as I poured water into mugs.

Mechanically,
I made the drinks I always made myself, drinks that soothed me.  Only now did I
understand why I craved hot chocolate after being tormented or why I made
myself tea when I was anxious.

I
carried in the tray of drinks minutes later.  All three handsome, masculine full-caste
demons were huddled in front of my puny area heater, swathed in my purple
bedding.  They looked so vulnerable.  Almost fragile.

“Coffee
with extra sugar,” went to Cyrus, “extra spicy hot chocolate,” went to Grayson,
and “tea with extra lemon,” which I handed to Rowan.

Simultaneously,
they took a sip and none of them spit out what I’d made them, so I was
satisfied.  After a few more sips, they stopped shivering, their coloring
slowly returned.  When I was able to move again, convinced they were okay, the
tension in my shoulders eased but my heartbeat still sent the deafening sound
through my head.

“How’d
you decide who got what?” Cyrus asked as he took another sip and smacked his
now pink lips.

Amusing
myself, but my voice a little hysterical, I pointed to him, “Sweet,” then
Grayson, “Hot,” then Rowan, “and
bitter
.”

Grayson
was trying to entice my attention with crystal blue eyes—I
had
inadvertently called him hot—but all I saw was a flickering smirk play across
Rowan’s lips.  Unlike every other time I’d seen that smirk, it made my heart
slow to a more normal pace.  This time, I didn’t stand a chance of holding back
my slow smile that spread in response.

As
an afterthought, I tried forcing up walls inside my mind so the three demons
staring at me couldn’t feel what I was feeling.  The walls were covered in
moss, like ancient stone on Irish castles.  By the demon’s expressions, the
stone walls totally failed.

“You
guys didn’t do your homework before moving into St. Louis, huh?” I said, trying
to divert their attention from my projections.

“Of
course we did,” Grayson said, and looked to Cy, who pulled out a little book,
flipped to a page, and pointed.  “The average temperature for this month is
forty-two degrees.  Snowfall is…”

An
almanac.  And they thought that was going to prepare them for the notoriously
unpredictable St. Louis weather? 

“You
can’t go by that,” I laughed.  “I mean, next week it could be sixty-five
degrees and sunny.  Averages…are misleading.”

They
stared at me as if the concept was crazy.  But that wasn’t what mattered right
now.  What mattered was they’d walked here, outside in an ice storm, at their
own peril, when they didn’t even have to.

My
temper blazed white hot and bright, smoke-and-fire flickering to life.  As the
burst of sinister thoughts raged, I knew my demon instinct really
hadn’t
been bubbling in the back of every thought for a while.

It
had been easy to forget the familiar feelings.

“Why
didn’t you guys just jump and avoid the weather all together?” I accused the
Hammer demons.

“We
were already on the streets,” Cyrus stated, tension in his posture.  “Gateway
photographers lurk around every building here.”

Expression
a little nervous and expectant…and maybe disappointed too, Rowan explained, “We
saw five on our way across town, even in the storm.”

I
looked into his pleading eyes.  Demon instinct flared.

“Two
were following us.  We had no choice.”  Rowan sat his mug down.  “They are
probably still outside your store."

He
was ready to react when I lost it.  But the smoke-and-fire was extinguished
with his explanation, desires to harm expertly tucked away.

I’d
had good control of it before my glamour was lifted, but this was incredible.

After
exchanging a look, the Hammer demons relaxed their preparing-for-battle
stance.  Rowan looked…not annoyed.  He picked up the tea I’d made him, and
sipped.

Humans
couldn’t know Hammers could jump.  The moment Gateway magazine found out, the
whole world would know.  I understood not wanting that.  But they still put
themselves in danger out there.  What if they’d gotten frostbite?  Could demons
get frostbite?  Even if they couldn’t, they could have slipped and spilt their
heads open.  I doubted even demon healing would repair that kind of damage.

“You
could have, you know, ducked into an alley or a bathroom or something.”  Hands
on my hips, my voice rising to a borderline yell, I tapped my foot, waiting for
an explanation.  But the smoke-and-fire remained dormant.

“Too
much of a chance for a human to notice.  Even the inkling of the knowledge is
dangerous,” Rowan finally said, his tone somehow…sweeter.

My temper
fizzled with the logic.  If humans knew Hammers could pop in and out of
anywhere they wanted, people would begin to wonder if Hammers were behind
robberies, burglaries, abductions.  Yes, I understood the secrecy.

“You
jump in front of Benn,” I mumbled.

The
three demons exchanged a look that could only be defined as conspiratorial.

“Bennett
is,” Rowan cleared his throat, “no longer a threat.”

Three
sets of eyes scrutinized me, reading my annoyance, resignation, and some odd
sense of protectiveness.  Again I tried to build walls as a barrier, this set
black, marble pillars.  But I failed again, and they could feel my
disappointment.

“You
guys need coats,” I grumbled, stomping into the kitchen to make myself
something to drink.  It turned out to be tea.  Guess I was feeling anxious.