Defying Instinct (Demon Instinct Series) (8 page)

I
tried to move the mirror away and marveled that I was strong enough to budge
the demon’s arm even a little.  Grayson got the hint and let the mirror fall as
I met his rock-hard stare.  He looked at me no differently now than when my
glamour was intact.  Steady and stony.  Whether I was ugly, or looked like I
did now, it was all the same to him.  I didn’t know what that meant.

“You
guys mind giving me a minute?” after several silent seconds allowed me to get a
thorough picture of the scene. 

Three
full-caste male demons, one shooting off vibrant bursts of sexual Tempter
tension and two doing their best not to look at the mostly naked, sweaty,
twitchy female huddled on the floor.  And my best friend seeing me nearly
naked, as vulnerable as I’d ever been.

Yes,
I needed a minute.

Without
a word, they filed out.  Cyrus retreated with a formal bow, the same as
before.  Rowan sneered, not looking directly at me.  Grayson smirked, and Benn hesitated
at the door, not convinced he should leave me alone.

I
felt like I could sleep for a year.  I felt dizzy and hot all over.  As I
wobbled to my feet, I felt achy, as if I’d worked muscles I didn’t know I had.

Before
Hadrian, I hadn’t.

I
felt grateful for Benn’s concern, and for Rowan’s sweater.  I felt
embarrassed.  I felt the lingering sensuality of an Incubus who I had no doubt
saw claiming an innocent, fledgling Scion as a worthy challenge, made more
interesting by this more appealing form.

I
felt scared about my dad’s reaction.  The unknown future terrified me.  I was
proud I’d been able to come out of the smoke-and-fire, and confused about what
happened after my glamour was lifted, little of which I recalled.  I felt happy
to have not been killed and that I didn’t kill anyone or do any permanent
damage to the store.  I was furious, but at the same time, exhilarated.

For
the first time in my life, I really, truly felt.

When
I opened my closet, I ripped the door off its hinges.

And
none of my clothes were going to work.  Nothing fit, and everything chafed. 
Even cotton sweatpants were uncomfortable.  My underwear was too scratchy, my
bras way too small.  Each time I turned to reject another shirt, I repeatedly
hit parts of my body I wasn’t used to having against the now door-less
doorframe of my closet.  My new, feminine hips and breasts felt badly bruised.

Tears
came three times before I tore a pair of jeans apart and screamed at the pile
of clothes in a heap on my floor.

The
only thing I could stand against my skin was Rowan’s sweater, so I pulled it on
with nothing underneath, and stood in the middle of my room.  If I had a
full-length mirror, I would be staring at myself, studying myself, trying to
get used to it.  I didn’t have any mirror but the small silver one Grayson
yanked off my wall.  Never wanted to see the full picture before.  Better not
to, I always thought. 

I
wasn’t even sure I wanted to now.  With my skin screaming with remembered pain
and my eyes sensitive to even the slightest light, with my emotions becoming erratically
manic depressive, I had enough to dwell on already.

I
had to tackle one problem at a time.  If I tried anything more complicated, I
was going to lose it again.  Thinking about what Hadrian had done, who paid him
to do it, and what was coming next wasn’t an option.  I had to stay in
control.  Step by step was the only way I could keep going forward.  Right now,
getting a grip and finding enough clothing to make myself presentable was my
mission.

Despite
the wintry weather, I chose a knee-length skirt I hadn’t known I owned.  Was it
even mine?  It didn’t matter.  It was in my closet, now on top of a pile on my
floor, and it was the closest thing to nothing I could find for my bottom
half.  Rowan’s sweater was big, but not big enough to cover all of me.  Was I a
few inches taller?

The
black, cotton skirt rubbed and irritated, but it only touched my waist and
occasionally brushed against my thighs.  I’d have to deal with it.  Couldn’t
walk around naked, or half naked.  It was already bad enough I was forced to go
braless for lack of any bras in my size.

I
tried pulling on shoes, but couldn’t take it, so I left my apartment barefoot, amazed
that my toenails sparkled, and hoping the store wasn’t so messy that I couldn’t
find a path to walk through.

I
added getting flip flops out of storage to my mental task list, because my
usual tennis shoes were out of the question.

As I
pondered what new things I’d need—deciding that I needed everything, but
dreading the idea of going shopping—I went to join the others. 

With
the first view of The Bookstore, my breath whooshed out of me. 

I whimpered
and nearly collapsed.  Benn had lied.  Nothing a broom and some tools couldn’t
fix?  Half of the place was rubble, reduced to kindling.  Precious books were
ripped to shreds or burnt to a crisp.  Piles of ash decorated the scorched,
hardwood floor.  The wallpaper was blistered and peeling.  Chunks of plaster
that used to be the ceiling covered the floor in white snow. 

How
did I do that to the ceiling?

The state
of the store was bad, but the state of the males traipsing around the rubble
was worse.  I clasped my hand firmly over my mouth to keep from crying out.

I
guess I’d been too distracted in my apartment to notice what I’d done to them.

Cyrus
couldn’t open one of his eyes, his face swollen.  Scorched, angry splotches
riddled his arms and neck.  When he made his way around the room, he struggled
with a slight limp, and I could tell he was favoring his left arm.  Scratches
swelled along Rowan’s exposed, tanned arms and neck.  He looked stunned and
tense.  Grayson’s clothes were ripped, and I could have sworn I saw a clump of
his hair missing in the back.  There was dried blood—drips of reddish purple—all
along his collar, but I couldn‘t see where the wound was.

I
did that to them.

Thankfully,
there wasn’t a scratch on Benn.  Demons were stronger than humans, had
regenerative abilities so they healed quickly.  If I did that much damage to
three full-castes, I could have easily killed a human.  A sick twist of fear
for what could have happened ached in my stomach and made my vision blur.

“Projecting,”
Rowan called out in my direction like a drill sergeant. 

My
knees wobbled, but I managed to shoot him an
Oh, shut your face
telepath
that had more conviction than I thought I had in me.  Unbelievably, I saw one
side of Rowan’s mouth quirk up even as I had to grab the wall for support.

“Is
everyone okay?” I squeaked, and Grayson was on my right, offering a hand to
keep me steady.  Though I was mad at myself for it, I took his hand, and was
surprised by the not-altogether-unpleasant sensation of his skin on mine before
turning back to the room. 

“How
did…” I didn’t want to know how.  “What did I do?”

“It
wasn’t in your control, Savannah,” Grayson’s velvety words wrapped around me. 
Only then did I notice they didn’t hurt my ears like before.  My eyesight was
adjusting too.  Though my muscles were weak and my skin was sensitive as hell,
I was improving.

All
right, it was time to get to the next task.  The Bookstore was most definitely
closed indefinitely.  I detached from Grayson’s helping hand, tiptoed around
the rubble, and did my closing duties.  Having specific, familiar jobs to
complete felt good.

I
flipped the Open sign to Closed.  Cashed out the register.  Turned on the voicemail. 
As I drew all the blinds on the front windows, a comfortable, dim light filled
the store, which was now concealed from outside.  A sign that said we were
closed for renovations or something logical would be smart, so I tackled that
next.

Of
all things, the dreaded computers remained unharmed.  The irony had me snickering
by the time the sign printed. 

My
feet hurt as I hung the sign on the front door.  I turned to the males who were
trying to make the store more presentable, probably for Dad who was going to show
up any moment.  I sat on the armrest of the couch studying the demons helping
me.  Their wounds were healed.  Even the chunk of hair I probably yanked out of
Grayson’s head had grown in. Or been glamoured in.  Either way. 

As I
noticed my body wasn’t hurting like before, though my skin was sensitive, my
muscles no longer constantly ached, I realized my feet had stopped throbbing
entirely since I sat down.

Lifting
a foot, then remembering I was wearing a skirt and nothing underneath, I bent
down to check the bound-to-be torn up bottoms of my feet.  They were perfectly
fine, except for a hint of dried blood.

“You’re
half demon, girl.  You heal quickly.”

I
narrowed my eyes at Rowan, who had snuck up behind me and was looking over my
shoulder.  “You can’t possibly expect me to have known that.”

He
looked surprised.  “You could be hurt before?”

Wasn’t
that normal?  “Cuts, bruises, burns.  Broke a finger once.”

A
wave of…something hit me, and I knew it came from the Hammer behind me.  I
couldn’t tell what it was, but it was something.

“You
were left entirely too vulnerable,” he mumbled, and I couldn’t deny the look of
real alarm and disapproval on his indescribable face.  I couldn’t imagine why
he’d care.  I couldn’t imagine why his caring made me warm in strange places.

Rowan
cleared his throat.  “Feel free to wear my clothes, by the way.”

I
blushed, surprised I could recognize the burning of my face and neck.  “I…um… 
Nothing else…uh.”
I can’t wear any of my clothes.

He
nodded, as though that was all the explanation necessary.  Had he been teasing
me by mentioning it?  Rowan didn’t strike me as the playful type.

“The
cashmere’s just so soft…and…”

Rowan
glanced at me, then looked immediately away.  “It’s not cashmere.”

“Then
what is it?” I asked, running my hands along my sides, savoring the
ultra-fantastic softness tickling my fingers.

Out
of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Rowan watching my hands.  But when I
looked up, he was back to his task, sweeping the floor, paying me little
attention.

“It’s…”
he began, but changed his mind. “You’ll like it better if you don’t know.”

I
laughed, startling myself. “I’ll shop for some things tomorrow.” 
I’ll get
your sweater back to you soon.

“It’s
fine.  I don’t need it.”

It’d
be a shame never to see you in it again.

Rowan
opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind again.  He cleared his
throat instead and walked away as I felt crystal blue diamonds scrutinizing me
from the other side of the store.

Where
had that come from?  Had I been flirting with a snarly, broody, full-caste
Hammer demon?  When did I learn how to flirt?

Eyes
narrowed, I glared at Grayson, who was helping Benn lift a bookshelf but
looking at me.  I didn’t know how.  I didn’t know why.  But I was willing to
bet he was the reason behind this. 

At
least, I preferred blaming a Tempter’s influence because the alternative was
too crazy to even consider.

“Jesus
Christ!”

The
bellow came from the front door, making me jump to my feet and flex muscles I
had no business flexing right now.  The pain in my arms, my shoulders, my
thighs, my eardrums, made me wince.  Had everyone been keeping their voices
down?  Because I was practically hearing like normal until Dad came yelling
through the door. 

“Savvy,”
Dad barked, his light brown skin darkening in his anger.  “What did you do?”

Rowan,
who had come back up defensively behind me at some point, began to vibrate.  I
could practically feel him reeling himself in, fighting not to lose his control
even though he wanted to.  The air around him prickled with aggression.

Before
I knew what I was doing, I touched a soothing hand to his chest, then walked
over to my dad, preparing to explain.

Only
then did his forest green eyes lift to meet mine.

I’d
forgotten that I looked any different.  Seeing my dad barge in, all I thought
about was the store, how he would react, how I could explain what I’d done. 
But I didn’t have to explain.  Victor Cole saw me, saw my real face, and knew.

“Oh,
Savvy.”

I
nodded.  I wanted to cry again, but I didn’t know why.

“Are
you okay?” Dad asked, his voice so soft.

“Yeah,
Dad,” I whispered, cleared my throat, then added, in the interest of full
honesty, “I think I will be.”

“You
look a lot like her.”

I frowned,
not sure how I felt about my mother, even if by chance she’d glamoured me, then
unglamoured me for my own good.

“I’m
not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

Dad
considered this, scanned the room, his eyes resting deliberately on each male,
holding their stare.  My demon half recognized it as a territorial thing.  What
my human half didn’t have enough experience to grasp, was if the territory he
was being protective of was the store, or me.

“Iliana
was stunning,” he said, then turned to me with rigid shoulders.  “A bat-shit
crazy, raging bitch demon from hell.  But definitely stunning.”

Sharp,
astonished laughter burst from my throat, and hurt, but I kept laughing.  I’d
never heard Victor Cole say anything like that before. 

I
didn’t stop to analyze.  Didn’t reel in my emotions and question how or why.  I
went to my father and threw my arms around his neck, pulling him close, extremely
careful of my now more than slightly-above-human strength.  I embraced my dad,
who I loved, who loved me, even if others might not see it.

He
patted my back twice, very softly.  It wasn’t much.  But we’d never hugged before,
so I understood.  When I pulled away, there were tears in my eyes again, but I
was still laughing.