Defying Instinct (Demon Instinct Series) (7 page)

As I
squinted through burning eyes at the hideous demon, yellow, pointed teeth
gnashing as if the sight of my lifting glamour was turning him on, or making
him hungry—I doubted there was a difference in this awful creature’s eyes—I
knew what I’d really feared all along.  That what I truly looked like was worse,
far worse than big ears, frizzy hair, and narrow eyes.

I
knew it as my body changed, as my clothes stretched and the sensations I felt
became utterly alien.  As my A-cup bra snapped at the clasp, and my jeans
bought in the men’s section hung from my waist but dug into my hips, I knew
without a doubt I’d no longer be able to hide.

When
the pain amplified, even though I couldn’t imagine it getting worse, the Devil
flashed me one more, piranha grin of satisfaction, then surrounded himself with
a cloud of red that smelled of sulfur.

Hadrian
didn’t come here to kill me.  I couldn’t be a half-caste in secret anymore.  I
was truly exposed now.  The Scion, and unhidden.  I’d be forced away from the
life I loved regardless of its disappointments.  I’d never see my bookstore
again.  Never see Dad.  Never see Benn.   

He
didn’t kill me, but he did what I expected.  In one, simple flick of his
proverbial magic wand, this Devil took my life from me.

As
my body collapsed to the floor, the feel of the hardwood beneath my body making
me scream, I knew there was no more resisting.  The fight was over.

Evil
awakened, and seethed.

The smoke-and-fire
had me now.

Wrath
crackled under my not-my skin.

My
heart pounded in my not-my chest, threatening to rip me in half with each beat.

Images
cascaded over my mind.  I’d had these thoughts before, these homicidal,
vicious, chaotic desires of destruction before, but never like this.  Where
before the bloodlust was a trickle, now it was a waterfall.  Where before the
need to tear something or someone apart with my bare hands was the size of a
pebble, now it was a boulder pushing against my conscience, trying to break it.

Fire. 
Blood.  The ultimate, devastating power of snuffing out life. 

Anger
bubbled.  Molten fury flowed. 

Darkness. 
Ash. 

I
was empty, made up of ice and soot.  Fire and steam.  Teeth and nails
thrashed.  My instinct roared, devoured, consumed in its path without
discrimination. 

I
lashed out without seeing what my fists struck.  Every movement, every blow was
amazing, and agonizing.  But I couldn’t stop. 

A
vaguely sane part inside me registered that Hadrian had gone, along with his
impenetrable energy field he’d created.  Someone was talking to me, yelling at
me, begging me, but that was as far as the sane part inside could grasp.

The
insane part was so much stronger.

Arms
with strength I’d never had before struck wood, metal, and flesh.  Ecstasy
flirted with torment.  Pleasure snuck through the din of pain.

Big,
searing bands wrapped around me, but I didn’t stop.  Nothing could contain me. 
I was a Razer demon.  A Destroyer.  It was my nature to take things apart piece
by piece, limb from limb, seize control of foreign land and rule like a
leveling storm. 

Friends? 
I had no friend but the strength of the tempest within me. 

Family? 
I had no family but blood and rubble, fire and smoke, bones and chaos.

The
big, searing bands around me began to blaze, the sensation too much to
process.  Something else was taking up the lure of destruction’s place in my
dark heart.  The awareness of contact, of touch, of feeling more intensely,
more perfectly than I’d ever felt slammed into me.

The
sensation smoldered, ached, charmed, and shattered me.  I’d never felt so much
of anything before.  My body exploded wherever something was touching my skin
with both anguish and rapture.

I
wanted to kill because of it. 

And
because of it, I wanted to die.

The
world moved around me without my consent.  I couldn’t see why, how the
destruction I’d caused became too far away for my eyes filled with fire to
see.  Each movement of the searing bands around me may as well have snapped me
in two.  Every impact of whatever was moving me away from my destruction felt
like an earthquake, threatening to open the earth at my feet and swallow me
whole.  But my feet weren’t on the floor.

Clarity
hinted around the edge of the inferno.  Someone carried me.  The searing bands
were arms.  The earthquakes were footsteps up a flight of stairs.

The
hot arms around my waist finally let go, and the floor hit so hard I was sure
every bone had broken on impact.

The
stuff covering my flesh tormented, so I ripped at it until my skin was free of
the terrible sensation it caused. 

Noises
that came from my throat hurt, the vibrations misery.

Breath
that involuntarily entered and exited my lungs burned like wildfire. 

That
edge of clarity appeared again.  I struggled to hold onto who I was, what I was
called.  My name was Savannah Cole.  Victor’s daughter.  Benn’s friend.  They
called me Savvy.

I’d
never been savvy.  It was my name, not a description. 

Savvy. 
But not. 

A
voice screamed that name, my name, begged and pleaded, then screamed my name
some more.

Clarity. 
Cyrus held Benn at the door. 

It
was a relief to recognize faces. 

I
could feel their struggle as if my body were fine-tuned to detect discourse.  I
tasted the faint chaos of their minds and could have taken a swim within their
turbulent depths.  I felt the impulse to urge them on, encourage further
imbalance, increase the perfection of their mind’s turmoil.  It was in a
Destroyer’s best interest to keep those not in power at odds with each other. 
A Destroyer existed for the mayhem of their minds, minds I could steal with
ease.

“Savvy! 
Oh God, Savannah.  Say something.  I need to know you’re okay.”

An
inch of who I’d been for twenty years stepped through the fire, responding to Benn’s
voice. 

Benn
cried for me, fought for me, even now, even after my lies.

“If
you don’t let me see her I’ll…
shit
…find some way to hurt…
Fuck
!”

A
few more inches of myself returned, and through my haze of sensation, I almost
wanted to laugh.  Even furious and worried, Benn knew he was no match for three
full-caste demons.  But he meant what he said.  He’d try to hurt them and get
hurt trying to get to me. 

“Let
him in,” I think I said, but it sounded nothing like me.  It only made me
angrier, sadder, twitchier.  Made me want to let the darkness pull me under again.

“Savannah,
you’re too—”

“You
will not keep him from me,” I yelled, the intensity of my voice shocking even
me, and shaking the silver picture frames along my walls. 

Grayson
didn’t move, so neither did Rowan or Cyrus, but I grabbed Grayson’s shirt and yanked
him down so he was right in my face.  I heard fabric rip, threads snapping one
by one, but didn’t care.

“Don’t
you dare stop him,” I said, and my voice cracked and lower lip quivered as I
added in what I hoped was a whisper.  “But please…please don’t let me hurt
him.”

Silver
swirled in the Tempter’s granite eyes, and without a word, Cyrus let Benn go. 
He flew into the room and onto his knees so hard, I knew it had to hurt.  But
he showed no pain.  The Razer in me pushing on the inside of my skin
appreciated his willingness to endure pain.

“How
you doin’, kid?” he asked smoothly, but I could see his shock at the sight of
me.  God, how much worse could I possibly look?  It wasn’t disgust on Benn’s
face, but he didn’t recognize me.  That, I could tell.  In a way, it hurt more
than the idea of looking even more hideous than before.

It was
painful, but I swallowed hard before saying, “Did I hurt anyone?”

Benn’s
eyes flicked behind me, but returned a second later.  “Everyone’s okay.”

I
whimpered. “Did I kill the store?”

“Nothing
some tools and a broom won’t fix.”  He hesitated for a second, but put his hand
on my arm.  The sensation from his touch was maddening.  

Too-hot
tears spilled out of my eyes, burned streams down my cheeks.

“What
do I always say, Sav?” Benn said frantically because I was crying.  He’d never
seen me cry.  I never had.

He
sat down in front of me, not taking his hand away.  “Your temper is like a
sparkler on the Fourth of July, right?  White hot and bright, but burns out a
minute later.  I always thought that was awesome, the way you could hate
something so completely for a little while, then, after it was over, be over
it.  You never hold a grudge.  You never bring up stuff from the past to use
against anyone.  Including me.”

Benn
still felt guilty for the way he treated me when we were younger.  I didn’t
feel bad that he was ashamed to be seen with me then.  I felt bad because he
still worried about it now.  He didn’t know none of that bothered me at all.

“This
is no different,” he continued.  “Whatever you’re feeling, whatever’s
happening?  The sparkler’s about to burn out.  You’ll be back to your normal self
any second.”

His
belief that I could get control of this got through.  His words always got
through to me, no matter how deep I was inside the smoke-and-fire.

“What
if I can’t?” my words thick.

“Then
we’ll dress you up like Randy from
A Christmas Story
and let you run
around like a lunatic all you want.”

We
watched that movie probably six times total a few weeks ago, and on every
Christmas day, never entirely at once since it played all day long.  We’d catch
snippets, and recite each line as if it hadn’t been a full year since we saw it
last.  The image of the little boy covered from head to toe in snow gear,
unable to lower his arms made me laugh though it was sodden and odd. 

And
just like that, I believed Benn.  I was going to be okay.

Only
then did the most important word of what Benn said about dressing me up in snow
gear register in my mind. 

My
eyes grew so wide I could feel them bulge.  Eyelashes scraped under my
eyebrows.  My skin grew even hotter in places I imagined were turning bright
red.  I was remembering things I’d done while deep in the smoke-and-fire,
things that seemed important to a mind that didn’t understand modesty or what
was considered proper for a female in a room with four males.

“I’m
naked, aren’t I,” I said, not moving, not daring to look down at myself. 

Benn
tucked something around my shoulders, and I was shocked to feel anything
there.  I was covered, though naked underneath, which was bad enough.  But the
softness of the item draped over me hadn’t even registered in my mind, which
was incredible considering my hyper-sensitive state.

I
let my eyes drop enough to see I was indeed covered.  It was a sage green,
cashmere sweater covering parts I’d be beyond embarrassed to think Benn had
gotten an eyeful of.

Sage
green. 

I
looked over at Rowan.  He was wearing a form-hugging, black undershirt.  And I
was draped in his sweater.

Thank
you,
I thought, and he nodded, then
jerked his eyes uneasily to the exit.

“It’s
time,” Rowan snarled, still not looking at me.

Benn
understood what the demon was talking about, but I didn’t.

“Not
yet,” Benn told them without looking away from me.

“Her
father will return soon,” Cyrus said.

I
squinted at Rowan, then Benn.  “What are you talking about?’

“You
need to see yourself, Savannah,” Grayson’s velvet tone sweetening a little.  He
was worried I would lose it when I saw how I looked.  They all were.

And
God, I didn’t want to know how much worse it could get.  Did I have boils? 
Man, I probably had boils.

“It
isn’t what you fear,” the Tempter crooned, and I squirmed at the idea that he
could get into my thoughts so easily.  I couldn’t keep him out.  I was too
weak, and he was bred and raised to get into female minds.  I hated him for it.

I
felt pure panic, frustration, fury, and the stream of words came out as a
shriek that reminded me of Howard’s bitter wife.  “Why work me up like this
with anticipation if I’m not any worse than—”

Grayson
ripped down the mirror from the wall, leaving a gaping, black hole in the
middle of all my deep purple paint.

“Was
that necessary?” I muttered, but there was no longer any anger in it.  I was
too anxious to care.

Resigned,
I looked into the mirror he forced into my face, and inexplicably recognized
myself.  I didn’t know for sure, but if I could replay my dreams, this was what
I looked like in them. 

My
hair was the color of copper, long, wavy and shining.  Reaching up a violently
trembling hand, I ran my fingers through it.  Silk tickled my skin, and I ran
my fingers through it again and felt the softness brush against my bare neck. 
The sensation wasn’t uncomfortable at all, unlike the area rug beneath my naked
body which was intensely excruciating. 

Pulling
back my hand, I stared at the new color of my skin.  Warm, Italian light brown,
but with a hue of radiant gold.  My fingernails had specks of gold and copper
imbedded in them, as if I were wearing a thin layer of sparkly nail polish. 

My
eyes in the mirror Grayson still forced on me had a sunburst of copper that now
matched my hair, framed by the forest green of my father’s eyes.  Seeing part
of him in my reflection for the first time made tears well up again.  I’d never
known before how much I wished for that simple, human connection with my dad.

I
had his full lips too.  And the light brown in my new…no, my
real
skin
tone was from his side of the family.  Seeing him and me side by side, someone might
guess he was my father now.  Which meant the copper and the gold in me was my
mother’s.  I wondered what she looked like.

“See?”
Grayson’s arrogance grated on my now sensitive ears.  “You’re beautiful,
Savannah.”

Stealing
one last glance at my copper sunburst and forest green eyes, I dropped my stare
and said evenly, “Spare me, Tempter.”

I
heard Rowan chuckle, a low, animal rumble behind me, and Grayson shot him a
frighteningly cold stare.