The Demon Hunter (6 page)

“Are you all right?”

Of course he wasn’t all right. In the last one hundred years, he’d died, become a ghost, been brought back to life, only to die again. And hell, here he was, once more. His life, and death, were becoming rather redundant. He drew his knees to his chest and hung his head low.

How the hell had he gotten here? Why? So many confusing emotions and memories swirled through his body. But there was no one to answer him. “What’s the date?”

“April 9
^th
.”

“Year,” he snapped.

She paused, obviously finding his question odd. “2012.”

Six months,
whispered through his mind.

Could it be true? Had he only been in that hell for six months? It felt like years. Only six months. He felt ancient. An old man, beaten and bloodied, ready for the end.

The woman knelt beside him, her hand reaching out, only to fall to her side as if she thought better of comforting him. “Listen, you need to leave before Lord Templeton sees you and calls the police.”

Her words hit him, gave him the strength he needed. “I can’t. I can’t leave until I find something.” He jumped to his feet, swaying. He’d stood too soon. Blimey, he needed rest. At the least, food. Determined, he moved toward the door. “Now, are you going to help me find it, or shall I merely bang upon the door until your Lord Templeton answers?”

“You’re insane if you think I’ll let you enter that home!”

Devon stepped onto the back stoop and wrapped his fingers around the porcelain door handle. He could hear her quick steps as she raced after him. She was too late. He turned the handle and pulled. The door gave a little, but held tight by a bolt. Easy enough to take care of. Taking in a deep breath, he focused what little remaining energy he had left. The lock broke with a clank and the door swung wide.

Ellie gasped from behind him. “How’d you do that?”

He ignored her and stepped into the kitchen. Shadows hid the large room, but he could make out cabinets along the far wall. A refrigerator hummed softly in the corner. In the middle was a large table. The wooden floorboards were smooth under his bare feet. So different, yet something shifted inside of him, memories kept at bay. He could picture himself there, in the middle of the room, stealing biscuits from the Cook.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. It smelled the same. The lemon scent was overwhelming, but underneath…deep down under the layers of time… the familiar scent of his home remained.

Over one hundred years ago, this had been his kitchen. He had been master of this house. But everything was different now. His home no longer.

Sweat of desperation peppered his forehead. It wasn’t his home any longer, but that didn’t matter. He was leaving as soon as he found his damn sword. A biscuit jar in the middle of the table caught his attention. His stomach clenched. He reached it in two strides and lifted the lid. Shortbread. His stomach grumbled loudly. He grabbed a handful of cookies and shoved them in his mouth.

“You can’t be in here! I’ll call the police, I swear it!” Ellie’s feet whispered over the floor, her breath harsh in the quiet.

“So call,” he mumbled over a mouth of biscuits. He had no time for her nonsense. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, attempting to sense the sword, search for that low hum of vibration he had always felt when the weapon was near. He needed that sword. He was nothing without it.

Her warm hand clasped his bicep. “Please, can’t we just leave? Talk rationally?”

He swallowed and with a trembling hand, grabbed another handful of cookies. “Fine.” He shook off her hold. Her touch was too personal, too addictive. “If you tell me what you are, I’ll leave.” He was calling her bluff.

“I don’t know!”

He pushed by her and started toward the door that should lead into the hall.

“I’m calling the police,” she whispered.

He knew she wasn’t serious. Ellie had secrets of her own, secrets she wanted to keep hidden. As he stepped into the foyer, thoughts of the woman faded. His heart hammered wildly, his throat going dry.

Home. How many times had he run up those wide steps as a child? He’d carried his wife up that staircase when they’d married. Emotion welled within and he had to lean against the wall, his knees suddenly weak. The cookies in his fist tumbled to the ground. Being home was far more difficult than he’d ever imagined.

“Hey, seriously,” she whispered. “I’ll…” She paused, and even in the dark he could feel her astute gaze searching his face. “Are you all right?”

Warrior or not, the woman was much too soft for her own good. A creak sounded from above. They froze, jerking their attention toward the staircase.

“Someone’s coming,” Ellie whispered.

Footsteps thumped, making the ceiling tremble. Desperate, Devon reached for the closest door, pulled it wide, and shoved Ellie inside. A small linen closet, stuffed with coats and smelling of old man and moth balls. It would have to do. He moved into the alcove, forcing Ellie back with his body, and closed the door. Big mistake. Secluded inside the small area with her so close, he could barely think.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, shoving her hands between them, a pathetic barrier.

“Quiet, or I’ll tell him you wanted to take me in the linen closet.”

Her hands fisted against his chest. “Are you kidding?”

“I’ll tell him you wanted to seduce me.”

She gritted her teeth. He could actually hear the grinding sound. “He won’t believe you.”

Footsteps thudded down the steps. “I bet he will.”

“Damn you!”

“Shhh.” He pressed her up against the wall, holding her in place with his body, and slapped his hand over her lush lips. “Cease your prattle.”

He felt her mouth move, then the hard nip of her teeth, so hard his skin tore. Devon hissed, and jerked his hand away. The little minx. Anger mixed with shock and her fury only added to his emotions.

“Don’t you dare tell me what—”

Devon gripped her shoulders, jerked her forward and crushed his mouth to hers. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps he wanted to taste a woman. Touch another human. Perhaps he merely wanted to shut her up. It wasn’t the best kiss, for his lips were merely pressed to hers like a youth in his first throws of passion. But it didn’t matter, his starved soul drank her in.

Ellie growled something low in her throat, no doubt a threat, but he wasn’t one to give up easily. Not now, not when he could
feel
something other than pain again. Devon wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her up against his body. Boldly, he slid his tongue over that plump lower lip. Check mate. Her body melted into his, fitting perfectly to his form.

Unable to stop himself, he slid his hands up her back, pressing her so close he could feel the rapid beat of her heart. He wanted more. Like a man starved, he couldn’t hold back. He thrust his tongue into her warmth. Lord, she tasted lovely. So clean, so sweet, so innocent and pure.

Growling low in his throat, Devon shoved his knee between her thighs, spreading her legs as much as her skirts would allow. Any humanity within him was gone. The urge to take her, to lose himself completely within her, overwhelmed him. He pressed his pelvis to hers, his hard erection throbbing against the odd trousers she’d given him. Her fingers tightened in the hair at his nape, pulling him closer, urging him forward as her tongue met his thrust for thrust. God help her, she wanted him as well.

“
Oh Danny Boy
,” the murmured song whispered through their lust-filled cocoon, shattering any sense of intimacy.

Coming to his senses, Devon tore his mouth from hers.

“From Glen to Glen…”
The maid strolled through the foyer, her footsteps slow and unhurried.

Their breathing was harsh in the small closet, so harsh, surely the maid would hear them. “What the hell was that for?” she hissed, as if she hadn’t been kissing him in return.

“A lapse in good judgment.”

Ellie was silent for a moment, as if his comment had actually hurt her. “Screw you,” she whispered.

“Just listen to me,” he said, pressing his lips to her ear.

He could hear her grinding her teeth again. Even though it was dark, he swore he could see her eyes flashing with anger. He waited for one long moment as the footsteps faded. Finally, he stepped away from the woman as much as the small closet would allow.

“I lived here… a long while ago. I left something behind. As soon as I find it, I’ll leave. Do you want to help me locate the object, or do you want me to search on my own?”

She shoved her hands into his chest, but not strong enough to move him. Where was that strength she’d had only moments ago? “Where is it?”

“I have no idea.”

“Just wonderful.” She reached out and opened the door a mere crack. “Fine, let’s go.”

She stood aside, allowing him to leave first. He should have known better. With his back to her, he was unprotected. He sensed her attack right before she kicked him behind the knee. He folded, falling to the ground with a thud that shook the house. He had just enough time to roll over before she was atop him, straddling his waist. Her large skirts settled around them like a deflated hot air balloon. Shocked and slightly thrilled, he merely allowed her to believe she had the upper hand.

“Now you listen here.” Her hair fell around her face like a velvet curtain as she latched onto his shirt. “You’re going to leave and you’re going to leave now.”

“Hello? Is anyone there?” the maid yelled from the back of the house.

Ellie jerked her head toward the kitchen. “Hell,” she whispered, her hands tightening in his t-shirt. “Now you’ve done it.”

Chapter 4

Ellie scrambled from Devon’s hard body. Her heart slammed wildly in her chest, but she wasn’t quite sure if it was because of their kiss or the fear that Lord Templeton would find them.

Their kiss
.

She resisted the urge to groan as she stared down at Devon in horror, her resolve completely shaken. A lock of blond hair had fallen across his forehead. His chest rose and fell with each sharp intake of his breath. He seemed just as stunned as she, or perhaps it was his injuries giving him that pained expression.

Ellie curled her fingers, resisting the urge to touch her lips. Her mouth still tingled from the pressure of his lips. What the hell had he been thinking to kiss her? What the hell had she been thinking to kiss him back? Miranda was right; she needed to get laid if this insane man was capable of heating her insides. Talk about desperate.

The floorboards overhead squeaked once more. For one brief moment their gazes locked. Finally, fear pushed its way to the forefront of her mind and she stumbled back, as if distance would make her forget his touch. At the moment she had more important things to worry about than their kiss. Devon jumped to his feet, with an ease that belied his injured state.

“Come on.” Ellie grabbed his hand and jerked him into the dining room. The long table that had been left behind by the previous owners was covered with a dust cloth. The thick, velvet curtains were threadbare, smelling of age. The few times she’d been in the room, she’d felt rather sad. A dining area devoid of life. Lord Templeton was too crabby and bitter to have guests to dinner. And so it sat with only memories of another life, another family.

Ellie closed the door behind them. “I swear, if you get me fired, I’ll kill you.” Sliding her hand along the papered wall, she flipped up a switch. A small lamp in the corner of the room glowed weakly, adding some warmth to the area.

“That threat has lost its meaning,” he said wryly.

Frustration fought with confusion. She didn’t understand his comment, but then she didn’t understand much about this night. How did one talk rationally with a crazy person? She gripped the front of his t-shirt, pulling him so close she could smell his musky scent. A scent that did odd, not exactly unpleasant, things to her insides.

“Please, I’m begging you to keep quiet.”

He scowled and shrugged her off, stepping away from her touch. Considering their kiss, she’d assumed he’d at least been attracted to her. Obviously not. He looked more disgusted. She, on the other hand, felt branded. Ugh, she was damn pathetic.

“Then help me,” he demanded. But there was something underneath the hardness of his voice, a plea… almost…that hit her in the chest like a punch. Those blue eyes held hers in an unrelenting gaze that warmed her in a way she didn’t dare study. Did she have a choice but to help him? The sooner she assisted him on this insane mission, the sooner they could part ways. And it was way obvious that she needed to get far, far away from this man.

“Fine! What, exactly, are you looking for?” Even as she said the words, she grimaced, knowing it was too late to back out now.

“A sword.”

“Dear God, please tell me I just misheard you.”

“A sword,” he repeated.

“Of course you’re looking for a sword.” She released a manic laugh. “Why…why not a gun? Or… or a grenade? There’s a fortress down the road with a cannon.”

He didn’t respond, merely crossed his arms over his broad chest. Although he still trembled, there was a hard determination in his gaze that made her uneasy. He truly was going to do this search with or without her. She spun around and paced away from him, needing space. Of course she could always call the police. But what if he told them of her strange powers? No, it wasn’t a chance she could take.