“Wait—” Too late. He slid the hatch open and quietly lifted himself through it. Slowly, he eased onto his stomach and inched toward the rear of the rig. Behind him, silent as a whisper, Sin came up, all grace and flexible muscle. Below, Trag banged on the door.
“Time’s up.” Con went over the edge, landing on the Ramreel and taking him down hard. The demon’s horns made a satisfying crack on the pavement. Nice. Distantly, he heard Zeph’s pained grunt, but then Con took a fist to the face, and pain brought his attention fully back to his opponent.
“You can’t defeat me, paramedic,” Trag spat. “I’m a trained assassin.” “Wrong.” Con jammed his knee into Trag’s gut. “As a paramedic, I know exactly how to kill you.” A lifetime of fighting had taught him a lot, but learning how the body worked had made him that much more lethal.
On that energizing thought, Con thrust his fist into the Ramreel’s thick neck, crushing his larynx. Trag made an agonized bleating sound, which Con cut off with a double-tap to his broad snout. The demon rocked backward, but he recovered in a flash, doubling over and using his massive, curled horns to ram Con into the rig’s back door.
Fuck, that hurt. Con ducked, barely avoiding being impaled by Trag’s dagger. With a deft spin, he wrenched the demon’s arm behind his back and flipped him. Trag went down, and Con delivered another devastating blow to his throat, one that blew right through the male’s carotid artery, killing him instantly. The body would disintegrate, as did most demons when they died outside of Sheoul or a demonbuilt structure in the human realm, and Con didn’t wait around to watch.
He sprinted to the front of the rig, where Sin was mashed against the driver’s-side door by the Nightlash. He held a knife to her throat, but she had her hand on the demon’s shoulder, her dermoire glowing fiercely, and before Con could dispatch the bastard, he fell to the ground, his skin ashen and rashed, eyes sunken in.
Whatever disease Sin had pumped into the demon had brought him down hard. And grotesquely.
The reminder of what she was and what she had done slapped him in the face, bringing his brain back to the place it needed to be while dealing with her: professional distance. “You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She kicked the dead demon in the ribs and winced, clutching her thigh.
Con swore. “Let me check your leg—”
“It’s fine.” She wheeled away and stalked to the rear of the rig, where the Ramreel’s body was already nothing but a greasy stain on the asphalt. “Son of a bitch,” she breathed, and Con swore he heard a trace of regret. “He was a damned good assassin.”
“Not so good with the hand-to-hand.”
“It was his main weakness.” The morning breeze blew her hair into her face, and Con barely resisted the urge to brush it back. “He relied on his aim and didn’t focus enough on physical combat.” “And what’s your weakness?”
She shoved her dagger into her boot. “I don’t have one.”
“If you believe that, then delusion is your weakness.”
“Aren’t you a smarty-pants,” she said crisply. “Fine. My weakness is that I’m a succubus. But it is very rarely an issue when I’m working.” He doubted that, and now he wanted to kick himself for not considering that he might want her blood so badly because she was a succubus. It might not be her blood at all—it could be her pheromones that were driving his hunger, not an impending addiction.
Unless…
“What is your succubi requirement?” he snapped.
Her raven eyebrows popped up. “Uh… sex?”
“No, I mean, what is it you steal or cause?”
She jammed her hands on her hips. “Well, I don’t steal souls, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t do anything.”
Oh, she did something, whether or not she knew it.
A hiss, like the sound from a flattening tire, rose up behind him as the Nightlash’s body dissolved. He waited until the noise died away before asking, “How long before you’ll need sex?” “Not long. And all my regular partners are at the den.” A stirring of… something… made him twitch. It couldn’t be jealousy. He’d never experienced that before. Not over a female. But something definitely torqued his temper, and he herded her into the passenger seat with his jaw set so tight he practically had to pry it open to talk after he settled behind the wheel.
“We’ll figure something out, but we won’t have much time at my house.” He cranked the engine. “The Carceris will be looking for you in all your haunts, but you can bet your ass that they’re investigating me. It won’t be long before they find out where I live.” He had two residences—hopefully they’d check out his apartment first. “We should have time to clean up and map out our next move.” Like maybe handing her off to one of her brothers. Sin didn’t seem to have heard him. She was staring off into space and absently rubbing her breastbone. “Hey, you okay?”
She blinked. “Of course I am.”
Right. No weaknesses. But he wasn’t buying it. Her own assassins were trying to kill her, take her job, and unless she had ice water in her veins instead of blood, it had to bother her. And he knew damned good and well her blood ran hot, not cold.
“Does your chest hurt?”
“A little. It’s a dull ache from losing two assassins I was bonded to.”
He grimaced, unable to imagine being able to sense someone’s death like that. He got the rig moving as Sin fished a cell phone from her pocket and dialed. “Who are you calling?” “One of my guys.” She paused, said into the phone, “Lycus. What’s going on?”
Con’s dhampire hearing sharpened, enhanced, and homed in on the conversation.
“You’re out in the open. You’re a target, Sin.” The male’s voice was as clear to Con as if he were sitting in the passenger seat with Sin.
Fuck that. The guy would have to sit in the box section of the rig. Strapped to the gurney. “No shit.” Her voice lowered, and she turned away, as if she didn’t want Con to hear. “Where are you?”
“The den. Waiting for you.”
Okay, strapped to the gurney and dead. Con gnashed his teeth, annoyed at his own reaction. There was no reason to be jealous, no matter how sleazy this Lycus idiot sounded.
“Who all is after me?”
There was a pause, and then a low purr rumbled over the airwaves. “Come back to the den, Sin. Swear to mate me, and I’ll make sure they’re called off.” Son of a—Con bit back a curse as his entire body jerked, and the ambulance with it. Horns honked as he whipped the rig back into the right lane, ignoring Sin’s glare. He didn’t give a shit what Sin did, who she “mated” with, or what she did with her assassin business. But this Lycus fucker was blackmailing her, and that just pissed him off. The sudden image of her na**d, beneath a well-muscled body didn’t bother him at all. At. All.
Sin flushed with anger, and Con waited for her to tell the bastard off with her usual sharp tongue. So he nearly fell over when she said tiredly, “I said no.”
Con could practically hear the smile in the male’s voice. “You’re weakening, succubus. Don’t take too long to roll over.”
Very slowly, Sin mashed the End button, still looking at the BlackBerry’s screen. “Asshole,” she muttered.
Con realized he was gripping the steering wheel hard enough to put a bend in it, and forced himself to ease up. “How many more of your assassins might be after you?”
Her fingers formed fists in her lap, and she turned to fix him with a penetrating stare. “All of them,” she said. “They have all turned on me.”
Luc had been alternately peering through his two tiny windows, keeping an eye out for potential trouble, when he heard Kar’s fragile voice rise up from the basement.
He took the steps to the room below and found her lying on the pallet where he’d left her, though she’d rolled to her uninjured side and was staring at the chains secured to his log and stone wall. “Where… where am I?” she rasped, her Texan accent barely discernible through her pain. He crouched next to her. “You’re in my moon room.” Not that he used the thing anymore. He no longer cared what he did on nights of the full moon. He refused to chain himself up, preferring to run free. Eventually The Aegis would kill him, or maybe a hunter, or, most likely, Wraith. The demon had sworn to take Luc out when the last of his humanity left him, and really, that had happened when Ula died. “What do you remember?”
Kar shifted, wincing when she tried to move her arm. “Being chased by The Aegis.” “They obviously learned the truth about you.”
Firelight flickered on her face, the light and shadow making her expression hard to read, but there was a note of amusement in her voice. “Guess you can’t blackmail me anymore.” He nearly smiled at that. They’d been holed up in an Aegis stronghold in Alexandria, Egypt, while they waited for the apocalyptic battle between good and evil to start, and in this particular conflict, Luc, the Sem brothers, and a lot of other demons had been there to fight for Team Good and Annoyingly Righteous. They’d actually been working with The Aegis in a fragile truce that had been laden with tension and distrust.
Kar had been there as a Guardian, all holier-than-thou, and then she’d sensed the werewolf in him. And he’d sensed it in her.
Already revved up for the pending war, his sex drive had roared to life. And he wasn’t the nicest guy in the world, so he’d made her a deal. Ten minutes na**d, and he’d keep her secret. She’d bitched and growled, but after Team Good had claimed victory in Jerusalem, she’d given him half an hour. His body hardened even now, just thinking about how he’d taken her three times in that thirty minutes. Up against the side of the building. On the ground, missionary style. On their knees, him giving it to her from behind. All couplings had been rough and raw, the way wargs did it, especially after a hardcore battle. He’d come away sore and scratched, and more sated than he’d been in a long time.
“I’m sure I can find something to blackmail you about,” he said, as he settled his palm over her forehead to gauge her temperature. “You have a fever.” He slid his fingers down to her throat. “And your pulse is too fast. I’m going to get some ice and meds.”
Her good hand shot out to capture his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip. “No drugs.” “We’ve got to get your fever down.”
She licked her lips, closed her eyes, but she didn’t release him. “Okay, but nothing that will hurt the baby.” He stared at her. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes.”
She must have gone into a breeding heat just days after he’d been with her. Thank God he hadn’t sensed it coming on. He’d have been compelled to stay and fight any other males who showed up to claim her. The winner would have mated with her over the three days and nights of the full moon, both in human and beast form, and if she became pregnant during that time, their bond would be permanent.
“Where’s your mate?”
“Dead.” Her eyes were still closed, and he wished she’d open them so he could get a read on her. “Did The Aegis kill him?”
“Yeah.”
“Was he born or turned?”
“Turned,” she said softly.
A chill bit all the way to his marrow. “The cub could be born human.”
She finally opened her eyes. “I’m aware of that.”
“Will you kill it?” Born warg laws were harsh in regard to human infants; they were to be destroyed at birth. Though Luc had heard of a few mothers who had left the babies at human hospitals or fire stations so the children could be adopted.
She hesitated, and for a moment, he thought she’d say yes. But then her eyes flashed, the steely glint in them hinting at what kind of mother she’d be. Fierce. Loving. “I will protect my baby with my life. That’s why I’m here. The virus…”
“What about it?”
“I’m scared. You know what’s going on—you have an inside track—”
He snorted. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m holed up in the middle of nowhere. But I do know that it affects only turned wargs, so you’re safe.” For some reason, she didn’t appear to be relieved, but then, she was as ill with her injuries and silver poisoning as she would be with SF. He palmed her forehead again, knowing damned good and well that the fever wouldn’t have eased. “So that’s why you’re here? The only reason?”
She shifted her gaze to the fireplace, stared into it blankly. “I didn’t have any place else to go once The Aegis found out about my secret.” “You shouldn’t have come here.” It was an as**ole thing to say, but then, he was an asshole. Since the day he was attacked by a werewolf, he’d been all about taking care of himself and not giving a crap about anyone else.
“Clearly, it was a mistake.” Her voice was so soft it was nearly drowned out by the crackle of the fire. “Yeah, it was.” He stood, tossed another log on the fire with a little more force than was needed, and sparks flew up, snapping angrily. “The last thing I need is to take care of a breeding female who has slayers on her tail. How’d they find out what you are anyway?” When she didn’t answer, he turned around. Her eyes were closed, her breathing even. She was out again.
And he was in one hell of a mess.
Seven
They rode in silence for a good thirty minutes. Sin was grateful for the quiet at first, until her thoughts started swirling around and she realized how much trouble she was truly in. Lycus, that slimy, double-crossing dickwad. She’d known she couldn’t trust him, but she’d hoped he’d use some of his considerable influence to keep most of her assassins off her back—without her swearing to become his mate.
“Time’s up.” Con went over the edge, landing on the Ramreel and taking him down hard. The demon’s horns made a satisfying crack on the pavement. Nice. Distantly, he heard Zeph’s pained grunt, but then Con took a fist to the face, and pain brought his attention fully back to his opponent.
“You can’t defeat me, paramedic,” Trag spat. “I’m a trained assassin.” “Wrong.” Con jammed his knee into Trag’s gut. “As a paramedic, I know exactly how to kill you.” A lifetime of fighting had taught him a lot, but learning how the body worked had made him that much more lethal.
On that energizing thought, Con thrust his fist into the Ramreel’s thick neck, crushing his larynx. Trag made an agonized bleating sound, which Con cut off with a double-tap to his broad snout. The demon rocked backward, but he recovered in a flash, doubling over and using his massive, curled horns to ram Con into the rig’s back door.
Fuck, that hurt. Con ducked, barely avoiding being impaled by Trag’s dagger. With a deft spin, he wrenched the demon’s arm behind his back and flipped him. Trag went down, and Con delivered another devastating blow to his throat, one that blew right through the male’s carotid artery, killing him instantly. The body would disintegrate, as did most demons when they died outside of Sheoul or a demonbuilt structure in the human realm, and Con didn’t wait around to watch.
He sprinted to the front of the rig, where Sin was mashed against the driver’s-side door by the Nightlash. He held a knife to her throat, but she had her hand on the demon’s shoulder, her dermoire glowing fiercely, and before Con could dispatch the bastard, he fell to the ground, his skin ashen and rashed, eyes sunken in.
Whatever disease Sin had pumped into the demon had brought him down hard. And grotesquely.
The reminder of what she was and what she had done slapped him in the face, bringing his brain back to the place it needed to be while dealing with her: professional distance. “You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She kicked the dead demon in the ribs and winced, clutching her thigh.
Con swore. “Let me check your leg—”
“It’s fine.” She wheeled away and stalked to the rear of the rig, where the Ramreel’s body was already nothing but a greasy stain on the asphalt. “Son of a bitch,” she breathed, and Con swore he heard a trace of regret. “He was a damned good assassin.”
“Not so good with the hand-to-hand.”
“It was his main weakness.” The morning breeze blew her hair into her face, and Con barely resisted the urge to brush it back. “He relied on his aim and didn’t focus enough on physical combat.” “And what’s your weakness?”
She shoved her dagger into her boot. “I don’t have one.”
“If you believe that, then delusion is your weakness.”
“Aren’t you a smarty-pants,” she said crisply. “Fine. My weakness is that I’m a succubus. But it is very rarely an issue when I’m working.” He doubted that, and now he wanted to kick himself for not considering that he might want her blood so badly because she was a succubus. It might not be her blood at all—it could be her pheromones that were driving his hunger, not an impending addiction.
Unless…
“What is your succubi requirement?” he snapped.
Her raven eyebrows popped up. “Uh… sex?”
“No, I mean, what is it you steal or cause?”
She jammed her hands on her hips. “Well, I don’t steal souls, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t do anything.”
Oh, she did something, whether or not she knew it.
A hiss, like the sound from a flattening tire, rose up behind him as the Nightlash’s body dissolved. He waited until the noise died away before asking, “How long before you’ll need sex?” “Not long. And all my regular partners are at the den.” A stirring of… something… made him twitch. It couldn’t be jealousy. He’d never experienced that before. Not over a female. But something definitely torqued his temper, and he herded her into the passenger seat with his jaw set so tight he practically had to pry it open to talk after he settled behind the wheel.
“We’ll figure something out, but we won’t have much time at my house.” He cranked the engine. “The Carceris will be looking for you in all your haunts, but you can bet your ass that they’re investigating me. It won’t be long before they find out where I live.” He had two residences—hopefully they’d check out his apartment first. “We should have time to clean up and map out our next move.” Like maybe handing her off to one of her brothers. Sin didn’t seem to have heard him. She was staring off into space and absently rubbing her breastbone. “Hey, you okay?”
She blinked. “Of course I am.”
Right. No weaknesses. But he wasn’t buying it. Her own assassins were trying to kill her, take her job, and unless she had ice water in her veins instead of blood, it had to bother her. And he knew damned good and well her blood ran hot, not cold.
“Does your chest hurt?”
“A little. It’s a dull ache from losing two assassins I was bonded to.”
He grimaced, unable to imagine being able to sense someone’s death like that. He got the rig moving as Sin fished a cell phone from her pocket and dialed. “Who are you calling?” “One of my guys.” She paused, said into the phone, “Lycus. What’s going on?”
Con’s dhampire hearing sharpened, enhanced, and homed in on the conversation.
“You’re out in the open. You’re a target, Sin.” The male’s voice was as clear to Con as if he were sitting in the passenger seat with Sin.
Fuck that. The guy would have to sit in the box section of the rig. Strapped to the gurney. “No shit.” Her voice lowered, and she turned away, as if she didn’t want Con to hear. “Where are you?”
“The den. Waiting for you.”
Okay, strapped to the gurney and dead. Con gnashed his teeth, annoyed at his own reaction. There was no reason to be jealous, no matter how sleazy this Lycus idiot sounded.
“Who all is after me?”
There was a pause, and then a low purr rumbled over the airwaves. “Come back to the den, Sin. Swear to mate me, and I’ll make sure they’re called off.” Son of a—Con bit back a curse as his entire body jerked, and the ambulance with it. Horns honked as he whipped the rig back into the right lane, ignoring Sin’s glare. He didn’t give a shit what Sin did, who she “mated” with, or what she did with her assassin business. But this Lycus fucker was blackmailing her, and that just pissed him off. The sudden image of her na**d, beneath a well-muscled body didn’t bother him at all. At. All.
Sin flushed with anger, and Con waited for her to tell the bastard off with her usual sharp tongue. So he nearly fell over when she said tiredly, “I said no.”
Con could practically hear the smile in the male’s voice. “You’re weakening, succubus. Don’t take too long to roll over.”
Very slowly, Sin mashed the End button, still looking at the BlackBerry’s screen. “Asshole,” she muttered.
Con realized he was gripping the steering wheel hard enough to put a bend in it, and forced himself to ease up. “How many more of your assassins might be after you?”
Her fingers formed fists in her lap, and she turned to fix him with a penetrating stare. “All of them,” she said. “They have all turned on me.”
Luc had been alternately peering through his two tiny windows, keeping an eye out for potential trouble, when he heard Kar’s fragile voice rise up from the basement.
He took the steps to the room below and found her lying on the pallet where he’d left her, though she’d rolled to her uninjured side and was staring at the chains secured to his log and stone wall. “Where… where am I?” she rasped, her Texan accent barely discernible through her pain. He crouched next to her. “You’re in my moon room.” Not that he used the thing anymore. He no longer cared what he did on nights of the full moon. He refused to chain himself up, preferring to run free. Eventually The Aegis would kill him, or maybe a hunter, or, most likely, Wraith. The demon had sworn to take Luc out when the last of his humanity left him, and really, that had happened when Ula died. “What do you remember?”
Kar shifted, wincing when she tried to move her arm. “Being chased by The Aegis.” “They obviously learned the truth about you.”
Firelight flickered on her face, the light and shadow making her expression hard to read, but there was a note of amusement in her voice. “Guess you can’t blackmail me anymore.” He nearly smiled at that. They’d been holed up in an Aegis stronghold in Alexandria, Egypt, while they waited for the apocalyptic battle between good and evil to start, and in this particular conflict, Luc, the Sem brothers, and a lot of other demons had been there to fight for Team Good and Annoyingly Righteous. They’d actually been working with The Aegis in a fragile truce that had been laden with tension and distrust.
Kar had been there as a Guardian, all holier-than-thou, and then she’d sensed the werewolf in him. And he’d sensed it in her.
Already revved up for the pending war, his sex drive had roared to life. And he wasn’t the nicest guy in the world, so he’d made her a deal. Ten minutes na**d, and he’d keep her secret. She’d bitched and growled, but after Team Good had claimed victory in Jerusalem, she’d given him half an hour. His body hardened even now, just thinking about how he’d taken her three times in that thirty minutes. Up against the side of the building. On the ground, missionary style. On their knees, him giving it to her from behind. All couplings had been rough and raw, the way wargs did it, especially after a hardcore battle. He’d come away sore and scratched, and more sated than he’d been in a long time.
“I’m sure I can find something to blackmail you about,” he said, as he settled his palm over her forehead to gauge her temperature. “You have a fever.” He slid his fingers down to her throat. “And your pulse is too fast. I’m going to get some ice and meds.”
Her good hand shot out to capture his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip. “No drugs.” “We’ve got to get your fever down.”
She licked her lips, closed her eyes, but she didn’t release him. “Okay, but nothing that will hurt the baby.” He stared at her. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes.”
She must have gone into a breeding heat just days after he’d been with her. Thank God he hadn’t sensed it coming on. He’d have been compelled to stay and fight any other males who showed up to claim her. The winner would have mated with her over the three days and nights of the full moon, both in human and beast form, and if she became pregnant during that time, their bond would be permanent.
“Where’s your mate?”
“Dead.” Her eyes were still closed, and he wished she’d open them so he could get a read on her. “Did The Aegis kill him?”
“Yeah.”
“Was he born or turned?”
“Turned,” she said softly.
A chill bit all the way to his marrow. “The cub could be born human.”
She finally opened her eyes. “I’m aware of that.”
“Will you kill it?” Born warg laws were harsh in regard to human infants; they were to be destroyed at birth. Though Luc had heard of a few mothers who had left the babies at human hospitals or fire stations so the children could be adopted.
She hesitated, and for a moment, he thought she’d say yes. But then her eyes flashed, the steely glint in them hinting at what kind of mother she’d be. Fierce. Loving. “I will protect my baby with my life. That’s why I’m here. The virus…”
“What about it?”
“I’m scared. You know what’s going on—you have an inside track—”
He snorted. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m holed up in the middle of nowhere. But I do know that it affects only turned wargs, so you’re safe.” For some reason, she didn’t appear to be relieved, but then, she was as ill with her injuries and silver poisoning as she would be with SF. He palmed her forehead again, knowing damned good and well that the fever wouldn’t have eased. “So that’s why you’re here? The only reason?”
She shifted her gaze to the fireplace, stared into it blankly. “I didn’t have any place else to go once The Aegis found out about my secret.” “You shouldn’t have come here.” It was an as**ole thing to say, but then, he was an asshole. Since the day he was attacked by a werewolf, he’d been all about taking care of himself and not giving a crap about anyone else.
“Clearly, it was a mistake.” Her voice was so soft it was nearly drowned out by the crackle of the fire. “Yeah, it was.” He stood, tossed another log on the fire with a little more force than was needed, and sparks flew up, snapping angrily. “The last thing I need is to take care of a breeding female who has slayers on her tail. How’d they find out what you are anyway?” When she didn’t answer, he turned around. Her eyes were closed, her breathing even. She was out again.
And he was in one hell of a mess.
Seven
They rode in silence for a good thirty minutes. Sin was grateful for the quiet at first, until her thoughts started swirling around and she realized how much trouble she was truly in. Lycus, that slimy, double-crossing dickwad. She’d known she couldn’t trust him, but she’d hoped he’d use some of his considerable influence to keep most of her assassins off her back—without her swearing to become his mate.
