Defying Instinct (Demon Instinct Series) (22 page)

Tomorrow
would be a new day, and I had plans to start working on.

Practicality
squashed my obstinacy, and I got up and left the demon without another word.  As
I ascended the stairs and got ready for bed, images of Rowan with another
female plagued me.  Images of a Tempter female torturing children and making
her guards watch cut through the thoughts of Rowan with someone else.  The
sensuality of some thoughts mixed with the disgusting cruelty of the others
made me nauseated.  I slurped water from the faucet, trying to tamp down my
revulsion.

As I
gasped for breath, I thought about Rowan.  How strong he had to have been to
survive what he’d gone through.  My demon half respected his strength.  He’d
been tested.  She saw him as a worthy companion, a worthy ally. 

My
human half wanted to hold him, kiss him, show him his future could be bright,
filled with affection and love.  She wanted all of Rowan’s tomorrows to make up
for his yesterdays.

Then
I felt thankful for his order to go to bed, because as soon as my head hit the
pillow, I was asleep.

Grayson
yelling was the sound that woke me from a heavy sleep.  I’d almost decided to
ignore it, and let the demons be idiots all they wanted without getting
involved when there was a soft, but hyper rap on my bedroom door.

Even
though I still felt exhausted, it could have been Rowan, so I scrambled out of
bed, worried something had happened.  But it was Cyrus, with brown eyes the
size of saucers.

“What’s
wrong?” I grabbed his hand.

He
gave a slight bow, but didn’t pull back his hand.  “I believe you are needed
downstairs.”

Without
another thought, I followed Cy through my living room, down the stairs, and
into the main part of The Bookstore.  We got there in time to see Rowan’s fist
collide with Grayson’s nose at the same time Grayson’s elbow collided with
Rowan’s mouth.  Two different shades of blood spattered their clothes and the
wood floor, one reddish purple and the other kind of a rust color.

I
groaned, leaning against Cyrus’s shoulder.  “What exactly are they doing?”

“Defending
your honor,” the Hammer at my side said in all seriousness.  I rolled my eyes. 
“Grayson should not have done what he did.”

“Are
you…can you say something like that about him?”

I
didn’t know what being an aide to a Royal advisor meant, but Cy hadn’t said
anything against Grayson before that I could think of.  And there was no
questioning his loyalty to the Tempter.

“Even
Gray knows it was wrong.”

Yeah. 
Sure. 

I
watched in silence, even though Cy wanted me to intervene.  The demons weren’t
harming each other much though.  I wasn’t even sure they could, not as cuts
stitched back together before my eyes, as split lips, broken bones, and swollen
bruises healed within seconds.

“Gray
dismissed Rowan the other night,” Cy said tentatively, not knowing I already
knew.

“Mmm,”
I agreed, hearing the low snap of Grayson’s shoulder popping out of its socket
as Rowan yanked his arm behind his back.  “I decided to make him a Sentinel
last night.”

Everything
got so quiet, I could hear the wall clock ticking.

Cy
and Grayson looked at me, eyes huge, mouths open.  Rowan didn’t let Grayson up
from the hold he had on his arm behind his back, but his eyes met mine.  There
was white gold shining around his pupils and satisfaction in the air, but his
expression was unreadable.

“Scion,”
Grayson said, attempting a bow even though Rowan had his arm.  “The Warrior
must have tricked you into agreeing to make him Sentinel.  You can’t—”

Rowan
pulled, the grinding bone cut off Grayson’s words and made my stomach turn.

You
can let him go
, I telepathed to
Rowan, who paused for a few moments before doing as I asked.  As if Rowan was
no longer a threat, Grayson kept his back to the Hammer demon, and stared directly
at me, his face drawn.

Popping
his shoulder back in place with one effortless yank, Grayson took two steps
toward me.

Rowan
jumped, and was standing in front of me before the Tempter made another move,
blocking my view with his broad shoulders.  

“You
don’t even know what a Sentinel is, Scion,” Grayson said, his tone desperate. 
“You must…please permit me to explain.”

I
put a hand flat against Rowan’s back, and peaked out from behind him.  “Rowan
would have explained.”

“If
so, you would already know.”

Rowan
leaned back against my hand, and I could feel his heart beating through his
navy blue not-cashmere sweater spattered with rust-colored blood.

“I
was exhausted last night.”  I tried to explain.  “He was going to tell me
today.”

“You
cannot be so confident,” the Tempter stated, his eyes cast down and away from
me.  But he was having a hard time with it.  He couldn’t seem to help telling
me what to do.

I
poked Rowan’s back.  “Were you gonna tell me?”

He
nodded.

“Good
enough for me,” my confidence secure.

It
was possible everything Rowan had done, everything I felt for him had been a
clever ploy to get into this Sentinel position, which apparently was a big deal
by Grayson’s nervous expression.  If I wanted to believe what Dmitri had said,
that all demons were only concerned with protecting their own interests, I
could see how every subtle quirk of his mouth, the moment in my bedroom after
visiting Faction, the story about Rosie could have been lies.

Was
there a logical, tangible reason I should believe Rowan was a good male with
good intentions?  Yes.  The palpable waves of warmth he didn’t know I could
feel, and those white gold specks in his eyes that appeared only when he looked
at or defended me.  All of my instincts, human and demon alike trusted him. 

There
was something I understood, even though I didn’t know where it came from.  Maybe
it was being given the freedom to roam around Division unchecked.  If I wanted
respect and loyalty from someone, I had to give it in equal amounts.  Before my
glamour was lifted and I became who I really was, I never believed in faith of
any kind.  Didn’t have the soul to understand what faith meant.

I
would have faith in Rowan.

“A
Sentinel is your official guard, but has the ability to defy Royal orders if he
does not think they are in your best interest.  The Warrior will not have to
obey you.  Or Iliana.”

He
said it like it was a bad thing.  But it sounded fantastic to me.

“That’s
it?  That’s what has you two spooked?”

Cyrus
stepped closer to me, but still kept a distance.  Rowan didn’t act like Cy was dangerous.

Cy
whispered, even though the other demons could hear him, “if he is working for
Faction…or Division…or for his own agenda, he could use the rank of Sentinel to
harm you.”

I
turned to the floppy haired Hammer.  “You don’t believe that, do you?”

For
a second, I thought Cy was going to apologize, but instead he said, “We do not
know his motives for remaining.  Gray had to threaten him to get him here in
the first place.”

“I’m
invested now,” Rowan said, not turning away from Grayson to reply to Cy’s
accusation.  “You called me in because you expected me to do the job and not to
care.  But I do.”

“The
Royal will not be pleased,” the Tempter whined.

Will
Iliana do anything to harm you or Tanis if we do this?

Grayson
hesitated.  His breathing became short, his silvery diamond eyes sparkled unrestrained. 
But in the end, if that indecision had been him considering lying to me, he
decided not to.

The
moment he conceded, I announced, “My decision stands.”

“For
your lifetime,” Cyrus said, still whispering, “you can only Blood one
Sentinel.  Unless Rowe is killed, you’re bound to each other.”

I
thought for a second, and leaned against Rowan’s back.  “Are
you
sure
you want that?”

A
smirk played on his lips as he glanced at me over his shoulder.  I felt the
sincerity, the confidence within him, and something else that made me bite my
bottom lip.

Smiling,
feeling a little light headed, I repeated, “My decision
definitely
stands.”

“The
ritual,” Grayson sputtered, frantic words matching manic, silver-speckled
eyes.  “You don’t know about the ritual.”

Rituals
and ceremonies.  They made me uncomfortable.  I never went through graduation,
always opted to pick up my diploma afterward.  All that pompous pomp and
circumstance seemed stiff and unnecessary to me.

“There
is a ritual,” Rowan said over his shoulder.  “But I didn’t think you cared for
such things.”

Grinning,
wondering how he could have known, but loving that he did, I told him, “you’re
a very observant male.”

Heat
surrounded us as he turned to face me, his eyes sparked with white gold. 

“Do
you accept me as your Sentinel, Savannah?”

“Yes,”
I said without a moment’s hesitation. 

Grayson
and Cyrus were noticeably silent and still.  They were resigned, and I wondered
if they were able to read the moment of heat exchanged between Rowan and me.  I
wasn’t projecting anymore, but I was still half-human.  With their full-caste
demon hearing, eyesight, and experience, I doubted they missed the way my body
reacted to the blonde Hammer. 

Instead
of feeling self-conscious about it, like I would have a few days ago, I felt proprietary
over it.  Of Rowan.  I wanted him, all of him, and I didn’t care who knew.  It
wasn’t something to be ashamed of.

“Give
me your hand,” Rowan’s command soft, almost sensual, and my body tensed and
ached, startling me, but I welcomed it.

I
did as he asked, sliding my hand slowly into his.  His skin electrified mine.  Rowan
lifted our locked hands to his mouth, unglamoured in less than a second,
slipped my index finger between his fangs, and nipped. 

“Eep!” 
It didn’t really hurt.  I was just taken by surprise. 

As
he drew blood, the feel of his mouth around my skin, of his fangs brushing
against my flesh, the gentle pulls on the wound he’d made on the tip of my
finger felt unbelievable.

Heat
shot up my legs and down my belly, meeting in the middle, making me quiver, my heartbeat
so strong I could feel it in the tips of my toes.

His
tongue lapped along the tip of my finger before releasing it.

“I’m
your Sentinel, Savannah.”

“Th-that’s
all it takes?” I asked, my voice trembling.

He
smiled that smile that lit up a part of me that had unequivocally become his,
been awakened by him, craved him.  Of all the emotions I’d missed out on in my
life, this one was by far the most awesome to discover.

Less
than an hour later, I was fighting to hide my awe in front of a creature whose
face I knew from history and Demonology books.

The
term immortal had been an abstract concept until now.

After
Grayson and Cyrus left, I explained to my Sentinel—I liked the sound of that…
my
Sentinel—what happened at Division.  I told him about the decisions I’d made,
about the many questions I needed answered.  When I asked him to take me to
Faction, to whoever was in charge of their operation, he didn’t protest, didn’t
try to convince me it wasn’t safe.

And
as he took my hand, preparing to jump us to Faction again, he said, “you are
extraordinary, Savannah.”

I
could still feel the heat of his hand in mine, still feel the twist inside my
body at his words, a feeling I got each time he used my given name.  Those
sensations grounded me, kept part of me tethered while the other stared in
disbelief at the Devil staring down at me.

The Devil
Queen, the one who overthrew Lucifer and freed the Underrealm from his
tyrannical, dogmatic rule studied me with black eyes.  Astor, the ancient demon
whose name decorated the pages of history books worldwide, stood before me with
a solemn grin on her red, waxy lips.

She
wasn’t ugly, not scary or panic inducing like Hadrian had been, though she
looked a great deal like him.  Instead of a head littered with black horns in
the place of hair, Astor had two black, shiny horns high on her forehead.  They
were about a foot long, and twisted outward at the tips.  Long, black hair fell
below her waist.  Like all Sorcerers, she was short and thin, but no one would
mistake her diminutive stature for weakness.  Her red skin and piranha teeth
should have looked like Hadrian’s, but for some reason, they didn’t.

Connell
had met us at the gate to Astor’s home.  Rowan had gotten the word out to him
about our plan, and the Mischief demon didn’t hesitate to offer us his services
as guard under Faction law.

We
stood inside a modest, red-clay structure with no decoration on the outside and
not much to look at inside either.  Though, my demon half suspected what we
were looking at was only the receiving area.  Underground, she whispered. 
Demons liked to live below ground.  I had to resist the urge to sneak a peek
around the Devil Queen. 

She
didn’t have guards at her sides, but I could feel three demons watching from
the shadows, willing us to make a wrong move.

I
mentally pulled at Connell on my left, then at Rowan on my right so I could
feel them there.  Their presence calmed me.  Even though I knew a Sorcerer
wielded unthinkable magic that could kill us in a heartbeat, I felt safer with
these two males at my sides.

“Your
guard and Sentinel reek with affection for you,” were her first words.  Astor’s
voice was like metal on cement, but also, oddly like bells chiming.  It didn’t
surprise me that she could already tell Rowan was my Sentinel.  Just as my skin
hummed in a low, nearly undetectable way, now, so did his.  Amazing what a
little blood could do.

“They
are good males,” I said, meeting Astor’s black eyes with self-confidence I
didn’t have, but evidently had learned how to fake.

She
had wrinkles around her mouth, along her red forehead, and crow’s feet.  She
was immortal, therefore should show no signs of age.  But her wrinkles made her
look…happy.  They showed a story, as if her life had had great laughter, real joy. 

“A
Destroyer-human defending one of the Fae and a Warrior.  And Scion as well.  How
intriguing I find you.”

She
didn’t sound intrigued.  It seemed like she resented me, resented their
affection for me and my affection for them.

“You
let the Fae stay unglamoured in your presence,” Astor accused, like it was
supposed to be humiliating.

“Connell
prefers it.”  Unblinking, I refused to look away under her scrutiny.  “You let
them stay unglamoured too.”

“I
owe you no explanation.” 

I
didn’t really need one.  She ruled before glamour was common practice amongst
demons.  Astor predated…everything.

“You
wish to be claimed by the Warrior.”  Now she was just trying to piss me off.

I
wouldn’t rise to the occasion, and said, “That’s between us, and none of your
business.”

Astor
tilted her head, studying me.  She wasn’t impressed by anything she saw.  I
could feel it.  Was it what I was, who I was, or the position I’d inherited?

Perhaps
it was too ridiculous to assume any demons would respect me.  Connell jumped on
my band wagon pretty quickly, but he was the only one.  Dmitri didn’t like me,
never had.  Only felt it was his demon duty to respect my position.  Not me.  Cy
was the same.  Grayson wanted to claim me, mate me and be Scion-in-law, or whatever. 

The
males at my sides were the only ones who valued me for me.

Astor,
though she couldn’t stand me, seemed inclined to tolerate me, prepared to
endure me.  Or, at least not harm me for now, curious about what I had to say. 

“Your
mother has issued a request for you to visit her court in the Underrealm.  Have
you accepted?”

Blinking
in surprise and a fervent wave of anxiety, I said, “This is the first I’ve
heard of it.”

“Your
advisors do not keep you well informed.”

“I
don’t have advisors,” I said, then, impulsively added, “yet.”

“You
haven’t been Blooded into the Underrealm?”  she narrowed her black eyes.  Was she
trying to telepath with me?

“You
were once Royal.  Shouldn’t you be able to telepath with everyone?  Weren’t you
Blooded?”

“Only
my caste is immortal.  When I gave up the throne, I ceased renewing the bond.  My
advisors expired long ago.”

How
often did someone meet a historical figure?  How often did a former nothing
like me get to be in the position to find out the truth, directly from the
source?  I didn’t stand a chance against my curiosity.  Not under these
circumstances.

“What
about your Tempter?” I blurted.  The history books all said Astor’s Tempter
lover was the reason why she stepped down as Royal.  If she’d had Scion
offspring, they would have replaced her.  But Tempters and Sorcerers couldn’t
procreate.

She
didn’t visibly react to my question, but I got a wave of remorse and something
deeper.  Something painfully pure.

“Incubi
are not immortal,” was her emotionless response, but I felt her sadness playing
across my senses.

Astor
was the Sorcerer who overthrew a dictator and took over the Underrealm millennia
ago.  She was the demon who was considered at least partly responsible for the
world I knew, and for my own existence.  She gave up ultimate power for a male,
a demon outside her own caste, only to see him die and her survive for who knew
how long after.  And she still loved him.  Would always love him.  Her emotions
on my senses told me that much.

It
was heartbreaking.

“What
was his name?” I asked, the human part of me showing compassion to the Sorcerer
even though the demon part knew not to show weakness.

A
small, unexpected smile.  “Toulouse.”

“How
long did you have together?”  My questions were soft, because I knew the Q and
A wouldn’t last long, and I didn’t want to scare the moment away.

“A
handful of years.  Though, I suppose it is relative, is it not?  Toulouse lived
longer than a human would, longer than a halfling, even longer than your
Warrior will.”

But
Rowan would outlive me no matter what.  It should have seemed like jumping the
gun, thinking about which one of us would die first, and hoping it was me. 

Yet,
here I was, jumping and hoping.

“You
are not certain about your standing in the Underrealm,” Astor said, her tone
flipping from solemn to commanding, like the ruler she was.  “Is this why you
have come to me?”

I
took a breath, taking my time to focus my thoughts. 

“I
heard you don’t like the idea of a half-caste Scion.”

Astor
blinked, red, waxy eyelids over black eyes, then grinned.  “Curiosity, and
concern for Faction’s freedom to remain as we remain.”

I
thought about the unglamoured demon children playing as Connell flew us
overhead.  I thought about how all the demons, especially the Mischief demons
felt comfortable being unglamoured here.  It was a good thing for demons to
have another option besides the ‘realm and Up Above.  Especially if it was an
option where they felt comfortable being themselves.

“I
respect the existence you have here.”

“If
you fear your life is in danger, you may want to turn your eye to Division.  I
have heard their agents have been sniffing around you.  If anyone has a problem
with what you are, it is likely—”

“Division
offered me a place within their ranks,” I announced, and felt Rowan tense
beside me.  But he said nothing.

“Is
that so?” she studied me once again, those black eyes shrewd.  “The director
must see an opportunity.  That clever girl.”

Astor,
the Devil Queen knew Director Pakala?  I wanted to ask so badly, but my Razer
half kept whispering my time was running out.

I
asked instead, “And what do you see?”

Immediately,
Astor’s almost whimsical expression hardened.

“I
see a feeble half-human without the skills to reign as necessary when the time
comes.  A weak half-human who has suffered puny, human woes, whose emotions are
volatile, fragile, who would benefit greatly from being banished to the
Underrealm to harden up a great deal.  An untrained half-human whose mother
made certain would feel nothing, know nothing of what she was or who she could
be until it was far too late for recovery.”

Stunned
into shamed silence, all I could do was focus on pushing out, keeping how her
assessment made me feel to myself.  I didn’t want Connell or Rowan knowing any
more than I wanted Astor to know.  I pushed out in all directions, containing
my projection inside cages, because it was the only thing I could do.

I
breathed, but there was no more air in the room.  I couldn’t see, couldn’t
hear. 

All
sensation was gone but for pain from trying to gasp air that wasn’t there to
gasp.  Maybe I screamed, but I couldn’t hear myself.  I may have pleaded and
whimpered, fallen to my knees and cowered. 

All
I knew was pain and darkness.

Gulping,
I finally found some air.  Connell was inches from Astor, close enough to be
seen as a threat.  I was on my knees, Rowan kneeling beside me, shielding me.

Astor
smiled at Connell, which made him stumble backward.  She showed her yellow,
piranha teeth that hadn’t looked so scary a few minutes ago to me next.

“You
will perish during the Blooding,” she announced.  “You can never be what
Royalty needs to be.”

We
were dismissed, escorted out by those demons hiding in the shadows.  Rowan and
Connell had to carry me as the door was slammed in our faces.