Unearthed (13 page)

“And a whole lot of other things. I’m guessing you didn’t think this all through before you started talking, but I’ll play. Let’s hear it, this condition you want to add.”

“Kiss me.”

“What?” he asked mid-breath, the rest of it never happening.

“Kiss me right now.”

“You have a death wish, don’t you?”

Maybe. “Is it going to kill me?”

He sighed, closing his eyes. “A kiss? Probably not.”

“Then what’s the hold-up?”

“Because I’m trying very, very hard not to lose control right now,” he said through his teeth. “So you’re going to need to be a little more patient.”

He leaned in, his eyes still shut, until their mouths hovered a centimeter away from each other.

“I’m not a particularly patient person,” she whispered.

“Neither am I.” His arm wrapped around her waist just before his lips landed on hers. Perfect timing, because the jolt of that connection would’ve knocked her on her ass. He may have miscalculated—this might actually kill her.

His lips learned hers quickly and then things got blurry. His tongue was hot but not burning, just overwhelming to her senses. As if her nerves were getting too much stimulation at once and her brain couldn’t sort out the messages. She pressed her hips against his, feeling his erection. He slid his hand down to her ass, pulling her in so tightly that her feet left the ground.

She ran her fingers through his hair, grabbing hold of it and moaning when he rocked his hips, pressing her between his cock and the wall.

A second later, he ripped his mouth away from hers, dropped her, and threw his hands out to the sides, his fists clenching and unclenching. “Damn, puppet.” His brow was tight as he stepped backwards. “Yeah, that can never happen again.”

Thankfully, she took a deep breath before she spoke. Because what she would’ve said was, ‘why the hell not?’ “Do we still have a deal?”

“No way.”

“What? Why the hell not?” Ironic, that.

“I can’t…I can’t do this.” Davyn backed away so fast, she didn’t see him move.

“Wait! Don’t go.”

“You’re too fucking dangerous, hunter. You make me—” He shook his head, long strands of hair whipping his face.

“I didn’t make you do anything.”

“Yeah, you did,” he shouted angrily. “You make me…feel.” He swallowed harshly. “But I can’t feel.”

“Demons can feel.”

“Not like this we can’t. Not if either of us wants to stay above ground.” And then he was gone.

She slumped back against the wall wondering what just happened and why she was so upset about it.

Keira stayed in the light as long as she could. Shadows kept spies and serial killers safe, at least from other spies and other serial killers. But the Heights was built out of shadows and a bunch of other fun stuff, and there was no way to avoid them.

Next time, she was going to write the address on her hand. Seriously, how did she think she was going to find a three-century-old vampire if she couldn’t remember a street address? It wasn’t as if she got leads like this often. It hadn’t even cost her much, just a threatening telephone conversation and the promise of her blood. As if she’d ever let that happen again, but the informant didn’t need to know that.

Normally, when a daily order came into the grocer’s from the same address, the assumption was the blood would feed a vampire coven or at least a couple, but she’d had a hunch that this was for a party of one. That much blood, that frequently, for only one person meant he was newly turned, and newly turned didn’t happen anymore. Reproduction was cause for execution, so no one dared do it. Except Lamere. He’d already done it once, leaving the fledgling to fend for herself. So Thom Platt could be Lamere’s second, except smarter because he wasn’t foraging for food on the streets like the first one had.

“He’s not here.”

Keira flinched at the sound of Davyn’s voice, her weapon out from under her jacket instantly. But he wasn’t there. She peeked around the corner and saw him sitting on the front steps of a building—the one she was going to. As usual, the demon was stuffing his face.

“Who?” she asked.

“The vamp you were coming to see. Uh…Orin? Otto? Otis? It’d be a lot easier to remember someone’s name if they thought in third person. Like, ‘
Otis
is afraid this incredibly handsome demon is going to kill him.
Otis
just wet his pants like a little girl.
Otis
needs his mommy.’ That kind of thing.”

“His name’s Thom. And did you actually see him or are you just being weird? I had it all set up.”

“I wouldn’t use Otis again. Lamere pays better than you do.”

“I didn’t pay him anything.”

“See what I mean?”

“Anyway, his name is Thom.” She pushed her hair off her face. “Did he say anything while he was wetting his pants?”

“Lots of ‘no’s and ‘please don’t kill me’s, but not a lot else. Oh. Except where he’s supposed to meet Lamere.”

She glared at him, knowing he wouldn’t tell her anything important until he was done with his dinner. And his dinner filled up three big bags. Despite being annoyed and impatient, she sat down next to him and picked one up.

“Hey, go get your own food.”

“I didn’t have a chance to eat,” she said, pulling out a comically large sandwich. “Besides, you have enough for a family of starving bears.”

“Male bears live alone unless they’re in the mood to fuck, so…you might want to rethink the comparison.” He took the food away from her. “Plus, despite what people say about me, I’m not a charity. I bought you one meal you barely touched and got no play in return. Unless you count that incredibly awkward and awful kiss the other day, which I don’t.”

Considering how badly he freaked out after it happened, she was surprised he brought it up. She’d thought of little else, but she figured he probably had a life and hadn’t thought about it at all.

“Yeah, it was really gross, wasn’t it?” She barely held in her smile when he whipped his head towards her. “If all demons kiss like that, it’s no wonder there’s a law against them subjecting humans to anything else.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Nothing. It was…” She grimaced, taking the sandwich out of his hand while he was so very distracted.

“It was what?”

“Never mind. It’s not important. Forget I said anything.”

“It was
what
?” He didn’t give her much time to respond, not that she was going to. “It was fucking hot, that’s what it was. Not demon-hot—amazing-hot. That kiss was thirty seconds away from you ripping my pants off, and you know it.”

“Are you sure you’re thinking of the same kiss I am?”

His laugh sounded forced. “So all that moaning you were doing was what? Moans of disgust? Your hands all over me and your hips grinding against mine was some kind of pat down, right? Why exactly was your tongue so fucking deep in my mouth? Looking for weapons? We both know it wasn’t because the kiss was ‘gross.’”

“You seemed like you were enjoying it a lot, so I was…trying to be nice. I didn’t want you to feel bad just because you lack certain skills. It’s not a big deal—you have a lot of other skills, Davyn. Don’t worry about it.” Shit, she couldn’t hold it in anymore. She held her—his—sandwich in front of her mouth to hide her smile, but he heard the laugh she couldn’t stifle.

“You think that’s funny, don’t you?” He jumped off the step, his food dropping onto the cement and flying in every direction. “That wasn’t funny.”

“Yeah, it was.” She stood and brushed her butt off. “And you’re just a sore loser.”

“I don’t lose.”

Keira felt herself being lifted off the ground until only her toes touched it, Davyn’s hands on her ass and his cock touching her right where it shouldn’t be. Because it felt too damn good. She raised her chin with her eyes shut because looking at him would only make things worse and make her willpower that much weaker. But she felt the warmth of his breath with every word he spoke.

“If we didn’t have somewhere to be, I’d remind you just how awful that kiss was. Do you think we have time, puppet? Demons don’t do much kissing, and yours are the first human lips mine have ever touched. Maybe if we tried it again, you could give me a few pointers. What do you think?”

The only pointer she could’ve given him was, ‘do more of everything you did last time and please, please, please do it now.’ She wouldn’t beg, ask, or even nod, but if he were ever going to read her mind, now would be a
really
great time.

“Well…”

“Never mind.” He dropped her so quickly, she tumbled backwards and landed on her ass. “I don’t care how humans kiss because it’s never going to happen again. So let’s get back to you not eating my dinner.”

“Damn, you’re moody.” She stood, wiped off her butt again, and tried to salvage what was left of the sandwich. “How about we get back to you telling me where Lamere is?”

“I’m still laughing so hard at your little joke that I can’t decide if I should tell you or just go after him myself.”

“Let me make the decision easier for you then: Tell me where he is.”

“Seeing as how it would take you eighteen hours to get there, I guess it doesn’t matter. He’s in London.”

Out of zone without papers.
Shit
. What if the European supers found him? She didn’t know which zone would be in charge of his execution once they realized he was a fugitive, but it didn’t matter. Because whoever got to do it wouldn’t be her.

“Can you phase us there?” she asked.

“Not unless you weigh under five pounds, which I’m guessing you don’t, especially after that sandwich you stole from me. I’m a demon, and we travel solo—clothes, cash, and nada else. Plus, London isn’t in my zone. So while Risers seem to enjoy the promise of execution, I don’t. I already have our Prime’s okay, but until the European Council gets back to him, I’m stuck here in North America. With you.”

“So you decided to make a quick trip to taunt me with useless information?”

“Taunt you, yes. Useless info, no. I figured you might want to visit Canada, seeing how Lamere is supposed to meet Otis at his place in Montreal tomorrow night. I’m pretty sure this tip is solid since it took some threatening and shaking to get Otis to stop whimpering and start talking.”

“Thom. His name’s Thom. And you couldn’t just read his mind?”

“Duh. What do you think I was doing while threatening and shaking him? Unlike humans, demons can multitask…when it comes to violence, at least.”

Lamere having a home on the East Coast made sense—Montreal was in this zone, and people practically expected someone to go missing every once in a while in big cities. Plus, Lamere spoke French better than he spoke English. He’d even taught Keira some.

I fucking hate that language.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Davyn played it off like what the hunter had said hadn’t meant anything, but inside things weren’t nearly as pretty. Even if she’d been serious, that kind of shit shouldn’t bother him.

Fucking pussy gets his panties in a bunch because a human has a problem with the way he kisses. A human. Hu-man. It wouldn’t happen again, but if it did, he’d put her panties wherever he wanted them to be.

“Come on,” she said. “You can tell me the rest in the cab.” Being human had some seriously inconvenient limitations.

“I don’t take cabs.”

She might fight moderately well, but she was still a tiny little thing wearing all black in a shitty neighborhood, so nobody pulled over for them. Although it may have been because she had a very big, very aggravated looking guy backing her up. So when the next cab came by, Davyn pitched in and quickly dug through the crap that filled the driver’s mind, looking for an unfulfilled desire.

Naughty, naughty boy. Completely predictable and totally correct—the hunter was a hot piece of ass. She was also about a billion times more trouble than she’d be worth in the sack. Probably.
Ah, fuck.
No, she’d be fantastic in the sack. But that didn’t matter because Davyn wasn’t going to be in one with her.

Thanks to Davyn, the driver tuned into doing something he wanted to do—pick up the hottie—instead of listening to his conscience, slamming his foot on the gas, and getting as far away from her boyfriend—
Not her boyfriend, dude. Sooo not her boyfriend
—as possible.

The hunter looked at him over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed until he shrugged.

“What?” he asked. “You wanted a cab. You have a cab. What’s your problem?” He slid in after she did. While it wasn’t always a good idea for him to be in vehicles of any kind, he’d just eaten so he had time before he set fire to anything.

“The airport,” she said to the cabbie.

Shit
. He’d thought she would head home, grab some extra clothes, a toothbrush, and other human paraphernalia. The airport was at least twenty minutes away without traffic, an hour and a half with. Now he was stuck—he couldn’t appear or disappear in front of a human without being noticed, and being noticed doing magic of any kind was against the rules.
Should’ve brought more food.
He’d have to make do, prove how much stamina Fosfer demons really had.

“Did you get an address before you”—she flicked her head to the driver—“you know?”

“I controlled myself, puppet. Otis is just fine. In fact, he’s probably on his way there already. If I’d turned him into charcoal, Lamere would’ve known something was wrong.”

After a few minutes, the cabbie turned on the air conditioner.

“I should’ve known.” She glared at Davyn. “This is a serious problem for you, isn’t it?”

“No problem at all.” He leaned closer to her so the driver wouldn’t hear. She smelled good. Fresh. Cool. Like rain or grass. “Since I can’t just phase out of here without our dear cabbie-friend seeing me, I’m going to tempt him into doing something he shouldn’t. You want in on it? Just don’t pick anything that will make him crash, because you don’t heal
that
well. Hang on.”

“Davyn, don’t,” she said through her teeth.

“Suit yourself. I’ll pick.” It wasn’t much, but it would help dispel a bit of the heat. The cabbie glanced around guiltily and reached over to the glove compartment, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Without a word or an open window, he lit up.