Heart of the Incubus (20 page)

Oh, hell, he had to get the bastard. Genevieve would never have a moment of peace unless he did, and Cresso was going to lose him if he didn’t do something.
Now.

On a final burst of momentum, Cresso made a flying leap that caught the shifter around one ankle. Tom yelped and rolled to his back, changing back to human form. His now
nude
human form. Tom lifted his hands in front of his face for protection.

“No, I—”

Cresso didn’t wait for him to finish before he yanked Tom’s arms down and, with a roar that perfectly expressed all his feelings of rage, sliced the dagger through his throat. It severed Tom’s head from his body and, mouth open on a silent scream, it rolled to the side. Cresso stayed there for one moment, crouched over the body, panting while he assured himself the shifter was truly dead.

Gen.

He dragged himself to his feet and yanked off his dress shirt, using it to wipe the blood from his hands and face. The zigzagging bolts of agony on his cheek told him the flesh was in the process of knitting itself back together. Thank the devil for demons’ hyper-healing ability. Otherwise he’d likely carry ugly scars the rest of his life.

“Cresso!”

He turned to see Genevieve, Taeg, and Maya standing right outside the cabin. Genevieve started racing toward him. He broke into a run and met her more than halfway there, dragging her into his arms.

“You’re safe, you’re safe.” He repeated the litany, not certain who he was trying to convince—her or himself. “I’ve got you.”

She pulled herself back to examine his cheek. Her face crumpled. “It’s healing.”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” He yanked her in for another hug, knowing he should be gentler. He just couldn’t help himself.

Finally, he forced himself to set her back and examine her for wounds. The left side of her face was bruised, as if she’d been struck, but that was all he could see. “Did he hurt you?”

“I’m okay.” She grabbed his hand in her own and pressed several kisses to his knuckles. “I’m okay.”

Thank the devil. He’d been so worried.

Unable to help himself, he crushed her to him once again, breathing in her unique scent to calm himself. “When I found out you were gone…I thought I’d go insane.”

“He caught me off-guard, used chloroform on me.”

“I know.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Unable to hold back, he confessed, “I love you, Gen. I love you so much.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I love you, too.”

His heart stuttered at her words, ones he’d never expected to hear from her. He choked in a breath, pulling away so he could gaze into her eyes. “You do?”

She smiled and pressed a kiss to his lips. “As if I had a choice. You’re completely irresistible. Now, let’s get out of here. Please.”

…

A few hours later, Genevieve was back at Cresso’s apartment. As soon as they’d arrived with Taeg and Maya, he’d filled his Roman tub for Genevieve and let her soak in it while he contacted Elcorp regarding Tom. While she was beyond elated that this whole ordeal was finally over, she was also confused. So much had happened in the last several hours. Almost too much to process.

She slipped on her robe, which Cresso had picked up from her house along with a few other belongings, and stepped into his bedroom just as the door opened. Cresso slid inside, and when he saw her he crossed the room and pulled her close to him.

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” she mumbled into his chest. “Where are Taeg and Maya?”

“They left. We’ll see them tomorrow. I told them we’d be taking a much-needed day off.”

Genevieve stifled a laugh at the warning note in his voice. “You’ll get no arguments from me there.” Though he probably expected her to, considering how rarely she took a day off work.

She pulled back to look in his eyes. “I don’t understand. How did you find me?”

“Dr. Summers.”

That was right—she’d almost forgotten about her. “Tom struck her so hard, I thought she might be dead.”

“Apparently he assumed she was. Didn’t bother to stop and check.” Cresso smoothed her wet locks away from her forehead. “When I woke her, she told me about her vision. She tried to warn you, but banshees aren’t able to tell the victims what they see in their visions. All they can do is wail when they see them.”

Genevieve shuddered at his words. “Thank God she got that one wrong. If you hadn’t come for me, I’d be dead by now.”

Cresso nodded, his lips tightening. “I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her. If she hadn’t told me it was Tom who’d taken you, I’d never have gotten there in time.”

Genevieve shook her head. “I wonder what happened to him. He always seemed so nice.”

Cresso led her to the bed and sat with his back against the headboard, pulling her to a straddle on top of him and closing his arms around her. “I’ve just learned Elcorp did an evaluation on him prior to giving him the job. Apparently there was some concern about his mental state. Hyena-shifters are prone to emotional imbalance, and his mother had left him and his father for another shifter when he was a child. After that, his dad ended up turning into an abusive drunk. In the end, they decided he was stable enough, but now we know they were wrong. They’re going to reconsider their evaluation process as a result of this incident.”

“That’s good, at least.”

She sat up to stare into his eyes, and they narrowed in on her. His pupils dilated, and slivers of allure floated off him, coating her body in heated sexual awareness. She would always respond this viscerally to him, she realized. Well, there were worse things.

“I meant what I said, you know,” she said. “Much as I tried to fight it, I couldn’t. I love you, Cresso.”

His eyes brightened and he started to smile, but then a glimmer of worry settled into his eyes. “I need for you to know that I haven’t lived the perfect life. I…I’ve killed before. I never intended to, but it happened. I guess, in a way, I’ve been trying to atone for it all these years.”

Something warm and soft settled inside her chest. He actually feared she would reject him. Cupping his cheeks, she pressed a kiss to his lips. “I know who you are, and I accept it. I think we’ve both been stuck reliving the past. We should let it go. Focus on the future.”

Relief slackened the tightness in his jaw. Cresso tangled his hands in her hair and pulled her in for a long, hot kiss that left her squirming with need. Finally, she broke away to ask, “So…what happens now?”

He grinned down at her and flipped her onto her back before she could even blink. Then he covered her with his body, resting between her outstretched thighs. “Now, Gen, we live happily ever after.”

That sounded beyond wonderful. But, before she ravished him like she full well intended to, she had to ask. “Do you really think you’re up for that? One woman for the rest of your life?”

Cresso’s soft and sweet laugh washed over her, bringing with it intense waves of allure that left her breathless and deliriously aroused. “Try me.”

Acknowledgments

I’d like to thank the amazing team over at Entangled Publishing for all the hard work they’ve done—not only on this book, but on the entire series. Libby Murphy, Heather Howland, Suzanne Johnson, Liz Pelletier, Cathy Yardley, Misa Ramirez: you are all incredible, and I’m so blessed to have you on my team!

To Mary Abshire, my friend and crit partner, thanks for all your insightful comments on this one.

A super big thanks to my family, without whom none of this would have been possible.

Last, but certainly not least, a HUGE thank you to every person who has written or Tweeted to tell me how much you enjoy this series. I cannot begin to express how amazing it feels to know someone else loves my demons as much as I do. You all rock!

About the Author

Rosalie Lario practiced real-estate law for several years before finally admitting to herself negotiating contracts wasn’t nearly as fun as dreaming up stories. When not writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband and son in their home state of Florida, as well as searching out things that go bump in the night. You can learn more about Rosalie at her website at www.rosalielario.com.

Keep reading for a sneak peek at the first book in Melanie Card’s entertaining
Chronicles of a Reluctant Necromancer
series,

WARD AGAINST DEATH

Twenty-year-old Ward de’Ath expected this to be a simple job—bring a nobleman’s daughter back from the dead for fifteen minutes, let her family say good-bye, and launch his fledgling career as a necromancer. Goddess knows he can’t be a surgeon—the Quayestri already branded him a criminal for trying—so bringing people back from the dead it is.

But when Ward wakes the beautiful Celia Carlyle, he gets more than he bargained for. Insistent that she’s been murdered, Celia begs Ward to keep her alive and help her find justice. By the time she drags him out her bedroom window and into the sewers, Ward can’t bring himself to break his damned physician’s Oath and desert her.

However, nothing is as it seems—including Celia. One second, she’s treating Ward like sewage, the next she’s kissing him. And for a nobleman’s daughter, she sure has a lot of enemies. If he could just convince his heart to give up on the infuriating beauty, he might get out of this alive…

Available everywhere books are sold.

http://www.entangledpublishing.com/ward-against-death/

ONE

Even in death, Celia Carlyle was beautiful. Sculpted features framed by a pool of blue-black hair gave her an unearthly appearance. Her long eyelashes rested dark against skin that was likely pale before death.

Ward gripped his physician’s bag with both hands, but they kept trembling. He could wake her. He had to. He’d spent his last quintaro this morning, and while his room was paid for ten more days, he still needed to eat. And there was no way he was going home to face his family as a failure twice.

Sweat dripped from his jaw, and the copper-rimmed spectacles he wore to make him look older than his twenty years slid down his nose. He tugged on his red velvet physician’s jacket and brushed a quick hand along his hairline to ensure his curled and powdered wig was straight. Despite the slight breeze blowing in from the open windows, Brawenal City’s summer nights were too hot for such things, but he had an appearance to maintain and a job to do.

He sucked in a quick breath.

An important job. One that could establish his fledgling career. If he just focused on the details, turned the situation into an intellectual problem, he might be able to forget her father waited across the hall.

He concentrated on the young woman swathed in silk sheets on a monstrous canopy bed.

How heartbreaking that someone his age could fall sick and die. Because of her beauty, her death must have been an emotional, political, and possibly financial blow to the family. In his summons, her father, Lord Carlyle, said she had died of a sudden illness. But there was no abnormal discoloration on her cheeks or around her eyes, nor any dried mucus around her lips or nose, which would have suggested an imbalance of her yellow bile. There were so few clues to this fascinating puzzle.

Ward set his bag at her feet and reached out to push back an eyelid.

No. Stupid.

He jerked his hand back. This was not a necropsy on a body he’d stolen from a graveyard. He hadn’t been hired to determine her cause of death. This was a wake. All of her family—her very
powerful
family—waited a wing away for word that they could have a final fifteen minutes with their beautiful and cherished daughter. Besides, when he woke her, he could just as easily ask what her symptoms were before and during the illness—even if that was cheating.

With another breath, he opened his bag and removed a vial of cow’s blood. He eased the stopper from the vial, dipped his little finger into the dark liquid, and drew an open goddess-eye on her forehead.

He could do this.

He imagined the power of the cow’s spirit igniting the innate gift within him. Grandfather said it felt as if his entire body tingled, but Ward had never experienced that sensation, or any sensation related to his gift for that matter. He was blind to it, unable to sense the ebb and flow of life energy, but still able to manipulate it. Maybe that was why he struggled to perform anything more difficult than a wake.