Читать книгу Tempting The Dark - Michele Hauf - Страница 12
ОглавлениеIn the women’s clothing shop, Jett found some black jeans with sequins dashing down the sides of each leg seam, and a blousy red top. Black boots with high heels had given her a giddy thrill. Savin had suggested she grab a few more things, and while she had been initially reluctant, she quickly warmed to the shopping gene that Savin knew all women possessed. He didn’t mind bulking up his credit card bill. Seeing Jett’s satisfied smile had been well worth it.
Of course, the smile had been too brief. It was almost as if she’d caught herself in a moment of joy, then quickly slammed the door shut on the freedom. It would require time for her to rise above her experience, surely.
Now she sat across a metal table from him on the sidewalk before his favorite sixth-arrondissement café. Four bags were corralled around her. She looked over the menu while he had ordered black coffee and three pains au chocolat. That was the first course for him. He would go in for the potatoes next.
“I’m not sure what I want,” she said, setting down the menu. “I feel hungry. Or do I?”
“You can have one of my pastries and then order something later if you’re still hungry.” He noticed her scowl. “It’s not a test, Jett. You can try as many things as you like.”
She managed a roundabout shrug-nod. He assumed it was overwhelming for her to be someplace so simple as a sidewalk café after coming from—Well, he wasn’t going to ask about it. He’d wait until she brought it up. It seemed the kindest thing to do.
“Paris smells like I remember. Old, yet hopeful,” she said after the waitress dropped off Savin’s order. She accepted a plate with one of his pastries on it and picked up a fork. “And the fountain down the street sounds so happy.”
He’d forgotten about that fountain. A guy could hear it if he really listened. He’d lived here so long it had faded into the background. Just another city sound. What his senses were most focused to? Demons. They brandished a distinctive hum to their aura. If one walked close enough to him, it registered as a twinge in his veins. Some, he even smelled the sulfur. And while they could cast a sheen over that hum, the scent and their innate red pupils, if Savin caught sight of them at the right angle, the red glinted.
Jett paused with her fork poised over the pastry. “Can I ask you a few things?”
“Of course. Ask away.”
“You were sending demons back into Daemonia last night, yes?”
“You bet. I’m a reckoner, Jett.”
“That is what I guessed. How did you ever come to do such a thing? And, uh...just how long have you been...back?”
He set down the pastry and brushed the crumbs from his beard. She wouldn’t like hearing this, but he wasn’t going to lie to her. Savin had a thing about loyalty to friends. He didn’t know any other way to exist.
“I’ve been back,” he said, “since I was ten.”
Her jaw dropped open and the fork hit the plate with a clink. “But you were ten then. When we...” She pressed her fingers to her mouth, and her eyes averted to study the sidewalk.
“I was in Daemonia for what felt like weeks,” he offered. “Maybe a month?”
“Time doesn’t exist there,” she said softly. The fragile pain in her tone cut Savin to the core. Should he have been so forthright?
“Right. No way to measure time there,” he said. “But I did find a way out.”
“That’s so good for you.” Her smile was again brief. Not easy. “And...your parents were there for you?”
“As soon as my feet hit mortal ground outside the wicked forest, I ran back home through the lavender field and straight into my house. My parents were over the moon. I didn’t think my mom would ever stop hugging me.”
Jett’s eyes still did not meet his, and he could imagine what she was thinking. How she had lost that opportunity for a cheery family reunion. Hell, he shouldn’t have mentioned that part.
“I tried to explain what happened, but they thought me...” He twirled a forefinger near his temple. “And when your parents asked me where you were, I didn’t know what to say. Would they believe a kid who said some strange force sucked us into a different realm? Kids always get accused of having wild imaginations. And I remember your mom, in particular, was Catholic.”
Jett nodded. Smirked at the memory. “To the extreme. So much guilt.”
“Right. Religion is...not for me. Anyway, after giving it some thought, I decided that being lured into the woods by a stranger and the two of us being separated was the only story they’d believe. That’s when the police arrived. They questioned me for hours. I cried a lot.”
“I imagine so.”
Savin lifted his chin and swallowed. Ignoring the stir of the Other within, he reached across the table and touched her fingers. “Those tears were for you, Jett. I just wanted you back.”
She nodded and yet pulled her fingers from under his touch. Wrapping her arms tightly across her chest, she leaned forward, protecting herself as best she could. “Were my parents upset?”
“Inconsolable.” He waited until she finally gave him her gaze. That soft brown stare that had once teased, cajoled and challenged him. “They loved you, Jett. But I know it was difficult for them to accept that I returned and you did not. Nothing was the same after that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well.” How to say it kindly? Surely, she might seek her parents now. And while he’d been but a kid, Savin had understood exactly what had occurred in the neighbors’ house down the street in those months following his return. The truth needed to be told. “Your parents split up about a year after it happened. I was still young and only heard the whispers from my parents, but I understood that your father moved out of the country.”
“He did? That’s... Wow.” She sat back on the metal chair and pulled up a knee to hug against her chest.
“And your mother...”
“My mother?”
“What was her name again?”
“Josette. Josette and Charles Montfort.”
“Right.” Savin raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m not sure what happened to Josette. After your dad left, my parents told me never to speak to Madame Montfort because I’d upset her. So I walked the long way around the neighborhood to get to school. Not that I stayed in school much longer than a few years.”
“But you were ready to enter middle school?”
“I managed middle school. Barely. My mom called it ADD. I knew differently. I dropped out in the first year of high school. The whole world, and the way I saw it, was never the same after—Well, I’m sure you understand. Anyway, I moved to the city when I was seventeen and lost touch completely with the Montforts.”
“I see.” Jett toyed with the pastry flakes on the plate, then rubbed her hand along her thigh. “I guess I can understand the divorce. My parents must have been shattered about my disappearance. They...fought a lot.”
“I remember you telling me about hearing their arguments. It happens. People change and seek new directions.”
“But another country? You don’t know where my father went?” she asked.
He shook his head. And one final terrible detail. “He got remarried, Jett. That’s all I know.”
She nodded, taking it in. Her fingers clasped tightly on her lap. Everything about her closed. “I wonder if my mother is still in the same house.”
“Impossible. That area we were in last night is where the lavender field once was. The houses were torn down years ago, Jett. There’s only a thin line of trees left from the original forest. They’re putting up new buildings and a golf course. I’m not sure where your mother went.”
“Would your parents know? I mean...” She exhaled heavily, and when she met his gaze, Savin expected to see tears, but instead a steely determination glinted in her dark irises. “I have no one now. I need to start anew. But I can’t do that without support. And survival aside, I’d like to find my parents. Because...”
“Of course. I can ask my maman for you. My dad died ten years ago.”
“Oh.” She dropped her gaze from his. “Death is—You resemble him, from what I remember.”
Savin winced at her tone. It had been so...dead. Like she had forced herself to say something kind. Like she didn’t really feel for him. It was a weird thing to notice. But again, he reminded himself, she had been through a lot.
“So you got out fast,” she stated. “And did you always want to be a reckoner after that?”
He snorted. “Hell no. I had no idea what a reckoner even was until seven or eight years ago when John Malcolm—he’s an exorcist—found me and told me I needed to be trained to do what I could do naturally. It’s the weirdest thing I’ve never asked for, but have accepted because it seems that’s what I’m meant to do. It’s a strange and repulsive calling. I just want to keep humans safe from demons.”
She nodded.
“You need to know something, Jett. When I came back to this realm, a demon hitched a ride in me. I call her the Other.”
“The Other?” she said with a gasp.
Yes, she remembered. They’d played a board game when they were kids that had been a bit like Dungeons and Dragons, and the creature who had lived in a dark cave had been called the Other. That was the name for the villain they had always adopted when playacting any sort of fantasy quest, adventure, or even when taking a tromp through the basement without the lights on.
Savin shrugged. “I was a kid. At the time, it was a name that fit. She’s the one who helped me get home. The bitch is still in me. She’s incorporeal. Can’t get her out. I’m not sure how to. I’ve tried, believe me. But we’ve developed a mutual respect for each other’s boundaries and I put up with her occasional fits.”
“Fits?”
“When angered, she can toss me across the room. Freaks the hell out of me. She’s been a bit prickly today. Weird. I’m chalking it up to our experience last night. But there are...measures I take to keep her calm.”
“Measures?”
He reached into his back pocket and laid on the table a tin box that he never left home without. He had a few more tucked in all the other places he might need a quick fix, such as at home and in his truck. “Morphine. It seems to keep the bitch chilled without affecting me too much.”
“Oh. Yes, morphine. It is a commodity in Daemonia. Smuggled in illegally from the mortal realm.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I knew that. That’s how I figured it might be something I could use to control her.” He tucked away the tin box. “Since my return, I’ve been able to see and feel a demon’s presence. In my very bones, you know?”
She swallowed and nodded again, strangely telling in her silence.
“And for some reason,” Savin continued, “I can invoke demonic rituals and languages to send them back to where they came from. It’s been an innate skill after my return. So after Malcolm trained me, I figured I hadn’t much choice but to become a reckoner. Wasn’t as if I had a vibrant social life or dreams and goals of becoming a corporate raider or even a chef or fireman. I’m just weird Savin Thorne who sees demons and feels them all around. I’ve learned to work with it.”
“You don’t seem so weird to me. Rather handsome, too.” She lowered her gaze, but her voice took on a confident tone. “You’ve grown up since I last saw you.”
“So have you.” He felt something close to a blush heat his neck. Savin quickly rubbed at his beard to hide his sudden nerves. Not that he didn’t enjoy flirting with a beautiful woman. He just...was surprised by his sudden and easy interest in Jett’s sensual appeal.
“So you can see demons in the mortal realm? All of them?”
“Not all. Most. And it’s not so much that I can see them—some I can—as that they give off a vibration that I can sense when they are close. But some are clever and wear a sheen expertly. You know about that stuff, yes?”
Another silent nod.
“Right. Probably hard not to get educated on the demonic realm when stuck in that place. Listen, Jett, I know you probably want to avoid questions about Daemonia, but can I ask one thing?”
“Of course you can.”
“Were you treated well?”
She straightened her neck and slid her palms along each chair arm. It was almost as if she had realized she was safe now and could be the woman she was. A regal confidence bloomed in her eyes. “Well enough. I survived. And I am in one piece. And now I’m here. That is what matters, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
Yet her confident front did not hide the fact that she was frightened. Savin could feel the fear coming off her.
The waitress stopped by and set the roasted potatoes, sprinkled with rosemary, before him. Jett decided on tea and he didn’t push her to order more.
His cell phone rang and, seeing it was Ed, he told Jett he needed to take the call. “Yeah, Ed, what’s up?”
“We managed to wrangle a dozen demons after leaving the site last night. I’ve got them contained here at the office in the basement holding cell. Would you be able to swing by and reckon them?”
He glanced across the table. Jett was poking about in one of her shopping bags, the tissue paper crinkling. “Sure. Give me a couple hours and I’ll head over.”
“Great. I’ll give you more details then.”
“The cellular phone has advanced measurably in my absence,” Jett commented as he tucked away his phone. “I remember them being large and—what were they—flip phones?”
“They get smaller and sleeker every year. And the cameras on them are amazing. I’ve even got a demon tracking app.”
“What’s an app?”
“It’s a...” Savin chuckled. “A program designed to do something specific and usually make life easier. Though I’m not much for selfies.”
“What’s a selfie?”
“Something I think you would be excellent at.” He winked, and her lift of chin preceded a slight curve of her mouth. Yes, she would put all the selfie queens to shame with her natural beauty. “I’ll give you the tech talk later,” he said. “You won’t need to learn much to get up to speed. Except that swiping right can get you in more trouble than you are prepared to confront.”
And that was all he was willing to divulge regarding his failed Tinder experiment.
“I have no idea what you just said, but I think I’ll be fine without a phone for now. Getting up to speed on existing in this realm is going to take some time. You have somewhere you need to be?”
“Yes, that was Edamite Thrash. He’s a corax demon. Good guy. I’d never reckon him. He keeps an eye on the demons in Paris and isn’t afraid to move in when one steps out of line. Sort of the demon police patrol over Paris.”
“Edamite Thrash.” She seemed to make note of the name.
“I have some business across the river with Ed.”
“Reckoning?”
Savin nodded. “I won’t invite you along. I suspect you’ll want to keep yourself as far from anything having to do with demons as you can.”
“Sounds like a dream. But is it possible in this city?”
He felt awful that her dream was so dismal. “It is. Demons are populous in Paris, but the smart ones tend to mind their manners. I’ll walk you back to the flat and then make it a quick job.”
“I can find my way back on my own.”
“I do need to get my truck.” He wolfed down some potatoes and finished his coffee. Seeing Jett’s longing look at some passing tourists, he offered, “Unless you want to walk by yourself for a while? I don’t want to be too forward.”
She gave him that silent nod again. Somehow submissive, which bothered him.
He tugged out his wallet and laid a couple twenty-euro notes before her. “You take that and go off walking by yourself. Buy what you want. If your appetite comes back, you’ll be covered. Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll leave the door to my place unlocked. Don’t let the demon wards freak you out. Sometimes they tug when you enter.”
“Didn’t even notice them last night,” she offered airily.
“They’re not all-purpose, but they’ve served me well. I’ll loosen them up for you anyway.” Because she probably still had residue from Daemonia on her. “And feel free to tuck your new purchases into a drawer. Make yourself at home, Jett. My place is your place until you feel like you need to get the hell out. Deal?”
“Deal.”
He signed the check, then stood, and thinking he should shake her hand or something, he decided that was stupid. And would she get the friendly double-cheek-kiss thing? It wasn’t something he ever did—why was he fretting about this?
Abandoning his ridiculous thoughts, he tossed out a “See you later?”
“I look forward to it.”
So did he. Because those beautiful, sad brown eyes made him hungry for things other than food. A man shouldn’t have such thoughts for a woman he hardly knew. And yet he did know her. The nine-year-old Jett. The intrepid, laughing best friend he’d promised to someday marry. Seemed like a long shot now. She was different. Could she get back to the usual? Did she want to? What had she been through?
He wanted to help her. He really did. And he needed to protect her. Things that came out of Daemonia might be required to return, no matter their species. Might someone—or something—come looking for Jett?
* * *
Jett wandered the cobblestoned streets and sidewalks through Paris, inhaling the smells of gasoline, cooked food and ancient limestone. The sounds of rushing cars, chattering tourists, Notre Dame’s bells and the laughter of children lightened her mood.
The sights were both historical and contemporary. The old buildings that had been around for centuries, and that she could recognize, gave her comfort. The city had not changed in her absence. And the people had only marginally changed, fashionwise. But there were so many cell phones now. Did everyone carry them always? Including the children? How bizarre to want to walk down the street having a conversation with a person on the phone while your family or friend walked next to you, doing the very same.
The city was as she’d remembered, and yet those memories were so old everything had become new again. She found herself smiling despite not having used those muscles around her mouth for a long time. A satisfied sigh followed.
She could make this her home once again.
As she was weaving through tourists who crowded the sidewalks, the scent of roasted meat lured her to draw in the savory aroma. But she didn’t feel hungry. After one bite of Savin’s pastry, she had realized it tasted like stale paper. It was not what she’d eaten in Daemonia. All senses had been engaged during meals, lush scents and flavors combining to satisfy in the most bizarre manner. The humans would not know what to call the demonic foods, and some dishes might even repulse them.
She could grow accustomed to roast chicken and potatoes again. She must.
Savin had taken her bags back to his place, so Jett swung her arms as she crossed a busy intersection. The river was close. The water smelled dark, yet much cleaner than anything she had known in a while.
A passerby rudely brushed her shoulder and kept on walking, his attention on the cell phone at his ear. But the sensations Jett got from that quick contact shocked up her arm. Demon. It was an innate knowledge. He didn’t turn to regard her. He couldn’t know acknowledgment was required. Rather, submission.
That was a good thing. Maybe?
Part of her decided it was. The darkest part of her crossed her arms and gave a huffy pout. Really. Where was the subservience? Should not all demons know and fear her? It was going to take time to adjust to being just another face in the crowd.
Shaking off the surprise of having been so close to a demon—and not feeling compelled to follow—Jett wandered to the river’s edge and leaned over the wide concrete balustrade. If demons walked the streets without notice, that meant surely the city must be populated with all species of paranormals. Something of which she’d not been aware when she was an innocent child.
And now knowing so much served her both bane and boon. All grown up and in the know, she could be smart and protect herself from anything that wished to harm her. If that anything knew who she was. Something she intended to conceal as long as physically possible.
Holding a hand out over the water, Jett closed her eyes and drew in the power of nature. Flowing water had always strengthened her. She harkened it to that fateful plunge over the falls. Rather, that push. She’d initially thought Savin had caught up to her and shoved her screaming and flailing over the edge. But she’d corrected that after the long fall. He hadn’t been close enough. He could never have known what had occurred during that fall.
Similar to the fall an angel makes from Above? It was a tale she’d made up, a secret belief that had helped her through hard times. Innocence falling to destruction and ruin, and all that fantastical stuff.
But that truth wasn’t something she could share with Savin. Maybe? No, she wasn’t nearly so ready to completely trust the man. It had been twenty years. So much had happened. Both had changed and been altered by their stays in that nightmare place. Jett would be wise to tread carefully around the man who could reckon demons out of this realm.
Hearing the loud chatter of a woman next to her, Jett turned, expecting to find her conversing with another, and only saw the one woman.
“Technology,” she muttered Savin’s explanation. “What else has changed?”
For one thing, the movie screens. Or were they television screens? Whatever they were, there was one set up in the parvis before Notre Dame just across the river; it played a film on the cathedral’s history. The screen was so large, and the images remarkably clear, even from where she stood.
The cars that zoomed past on the bridge were the same as she remembered, save newer and probably faster. The people all looked the same. Fashion in this touristy district still left much to be desired. Jett could spot a true Parisian by her smart, elegant style. Or there, the woman riding the bicycle in a skirt, with her high heels tucked in a side bag. Definitely a city native.
The food all seemed familiar. The Notre Dame Cathedral was still an awesome monument. The whine of tired children tugging on their parents’ legs was familiar, as well. So much remained familiar to her, and that was heartening.
Yet where were the bowing sycophants?
Jett’s eyes sought someone, anyone who might recognize her importance. And she realized her sheen was beginning to wane, allowing her darkness to rise, so she tightened her hold on it and spread her focus over her skin once again. Mustn’t drop her mask. No matter how good it felt, or how much she desired recognition.
After walking awhile, Jett shrugged her achy shoulders and yawned. The crowd and the bright sunlight taxed her energy. She was beginning to require more focus than usual to stay in this form. So she headed back toward Savin’s place, wandering quickly past the Montparnasse Cemetery and then the Luxembourg Gardens, taking in all things, but also looking forward to rest. She’d breathed enough fresh air for today.
Most of all, she looked forward to seeing Savin again.
The only friend she had ever known had reentered her life. And that was remarkable.
But what he’d told her about her parents. They’d divorced. And he had no clue where either was right now? Besides the memory of her best friend, her parents had been her only connection to this realm. For the longest time she had whispered the Catholic prayers her mother had taught her, until the words had begun to literally burn on her tongue. And long after she’d learned not to invoke the Christian God in that place, the simple image of her mother or father had worked to keep up her spirits.
She needed to find them to truly return to this realm she wanted to once again call home.
Arriving at Savin’s building, she took in the vibrations cloaking the immediate area. Like Savin, she could read the air and sense demons when nearby. As well, she could vibrationally map out the living beings in the area. Sort of like sonar, she supposed. Savin was above in his home, already returned from his task. She knew it because his scent carried to her. That delicious essence of man that she’d slept wrapped in all night.
There were wards outside the limestone-faced building. Invisible, yet she could feel Savin’s signature sealing them. Wards against demons and a few other species, perhaps vampires and werewolves. They tugged at her musculature, as they had last night, when she mounted the inner stairs and climbed up four stories, but it wasn’t anything that would rip her apart or send her screaming.
Facing the wards drawn on Savin’s front door, Jett rechecked the sheen she wore, a masterful disguise. She’d need to relax and let go soon. Just an hour or so. A means to recharge.
Yet the last place she could do that was inside a fully warded reckoner’s home.
Or maybe, it might serve as the safest place possible.
She knocked on the front door, then tried the knob. It was open, and as she popped her head inside the flat, Savin called for her to enter. A fierce tug at her skin pulled and prickled as she crossed the threshold, but she made it inside and closed the door behind her, thus squelching the ward’s seeking force. It sought to repeal a demon. She was still strong enough to thwart the weakened repulsion.
Now she dropped her shoulders and exhaled wearily. “You beat me back,” she commented.
Savin sat on the couch, a glass of what smelled like alcohol in hand, which he tilted to her. “It was a quick call. Four more demons sent back to where they belong. And you have been out the whole afternoon. You walk around the city?”
She sat on the wooden-armed chair across from the couch and pulled up her legs to hook her feet on the leather cushion. It was cool and not so bright in his place, and she appreciated that. “Paris is beautiful. I never appreciated the architecture when we were kids. So many people, though. I’m tired out!”
“Yeah, it’s August and the tourist crush is ridiculous. No wonder all the locals head out of town this time of year. I left your new things in the bedroom for you. You want a drink?”
“I recognize the smell of whiskey from when my father used to have a ‘sip’ after an evening meal. But I’ve never tried alcohol. At least, not anything made in this realm.”
“Really? I suppose.” He swiped a hand across his jaw.
She sensed he tried to be tactful and not ask about her experience, which she appreciated.
“Want to try some?”
“I’d never refuse a challenge from you.”
And while that statement was something that she would have said as a kid to Savin’s challenging glint in the eye, now it felt bold and powerful. Adult. And in response, Savin’s gaze seemed to slip across her skin in a welcome manner. Jett wriggled on the chair, lifting her chin. She liked to be admired by him.
He stood and collected another glass in the kitchen, then returned to pour her a portion from the bottle.
“Do you play all those guitars?” she asked as he handed her the glass. She sniffed it. Very strong, and not too appealing.
“Most are collectibles,” he said. “A few are prized possessions. That one is signed by Chuck Berry. Saw him at a concert a decade ago and met him when he was exiting out the backstage door. I like to play my own compositions. A little blues à la Chuck Berry, a little Southern rock. Some headbanging riffs mixed with a touch of classical. I’m also teaching myself musicomancy.”
Jett sat up a little straighter. “Is that some kind of magic?”
“Using music. But it’s slow going. Hell, I tend to sit and drink far too much whiskey, and then my playing gets looser and more random. I suspect that’s a good reason why I have yet to accomplish musicomancy.” He winked and tilted back the remainder of his drink, then poured some more. “I use the diddley bow for the magic stuff.” He gestured over his shoulder, and Jett noted a strange guitar-like instrument with a turtle-shell-sized body and a long, thin neck and only one string. “Made that one myself. That’s another hobby of mine. Fiddling around with making things. Made a bunch of navigational devices that I use for my work, as well. Guess I got the creative gene from my dad. You remember when I took apart your Nintendo controller?”
“I don’t think I forgave you for that. And I wouldn’t necessarily call destroying things being creative,” she teased. “You tended to take apart anything you could get your hands on.”
“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Now I put things back together. I figured out how it all works. Now I’m all about restoration and creation. No destruction.”
Destruction. The word felt comfortable to Jett’s senses. It had been so easy to destroy that which annoyed her. But just as she noticed herself smiling about such memories, she chased away the thought. She would not slip around Savin. She must not.
She sniffed her glass, then took a sip. It burned down her throat, but it was actually tasty. As she drank more, the burn lessened. Another sip and the dark liquid smoothened on her tongue. “I like this.”
“Much as I hate to be the one to corrupt you, I can’t argue an appreciation for a good aged whiskey.”
“I am beyond corruption, Savin. So don’t worry about that.”
“Everyone is corruptible.”
“Yes, well, there’s nothing about me that can get any more corrupted. So trust, you won’t harm me. No matter what vices or sinful challenges with which you should tempt me.” She held out her glass toward him. Her voice thickened into a husky tone. “More.”
Glass clinked as he poured her another portion. Then he topped off his drink. The lingering look he gave her was in reaction to her sensual tease. Good boy. He understood her. She could work with that.
“Can I ask you one thing? It’s personal.”
“I don’t have any boyfriends, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Jett chuckled softly and pressed the cool glass against her lower lip. The man was so sexy. And she understood the meaning of that word now. How quickly she relaxed around him. And desired. She was feeling...sensual. Must be the whiskey. Yes, she did like this drink.
“No, that’s—” Savin looked over the rim of his glass. “Could you have boyfriends...you know...there?”
He wanted to know about her love life in Daemonia? Ugh. “Is that the question you wanted to ask?”
“Do I only get the one?”
Jett sighed and allowed her shoulders to relax against the comfy cushions. She crossed her legs, and with a slip off of the heel, she dangled her shoe on her toes. “Fine. Ask me anything. But I’m allowed to refuse any answer.”
“I don’t want to grill you, Jett. But I am curious. In turn, you can ask me anything.”
“You’ve been open with me so far. I owe you that much.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, the whiskey glass dangling from one hand before a leg. “How did you survive in that place? Was there shelter? Buildings? Towns? A place of safety?”
“There’s never safety in Daemonia,” she said curtly. The whiskey slid quickly down her throat and she slammed the glass on the chair arm. “But there are dwellings. And cities and citadels. Castles, hovels and all means of residence. I...had a place to live.” She couldn’t tell him everything. She’d never get out of this flat in one piece if she did that. “And I was generally free from the treacherous elements that I’m sure you remember.”
“So someone took you in? That’s good. I couldn’t imagine you wandering that horrible place for so long and on your own.”
“There is no alone there.” Jett cast her glance up toward the windows fitted in the ceiling. The sky was darkening. Thankfully. “Nor was there a sun. But you know, the many moons were pretty. Save for the fire moon. That one hurt if I forgot myself and walked out beneath it.”
“Like a sunburn?”
He might never understand that in Daemonia everything was multiplied, magnified, extremely enlarged, enhanced and so, so dangerous. He’d had but a taste as a child.
“A bit,” she offered quickly. Now she stood and grabbed the half-empty whiskey bottle and refilled her glass. Growing more confident, she sat on the couch, snuggling up about two feet from where Savin sat and facing him. The whiskey warmed her, and the exhaustion she’d been feeling earlier cooled to a comfortable relaxation. “Any more questions?”
“So many. But I won’t inundate you. I genuinely thought you were dead after that fall, Jett. Were you angry with me? For not coming after you?”
He lifted his chin just as their eyes met. Alpha in his command, and unwilling to show any weakness. She’d dealt with men like him. And yet she could feel his heart beating rapidly. He was frightened at his own emotions.
And she, well, she had long ago abandoned the sillier emotions such as fear, shame and empathy.
“I was never angry with you,” she said truthfully. “And I hoped for so long that you had made it back home. My wish came true. I’m glad for that.”
“I should have leaped over that cliff and tried to save you.”
“It would have been a suicide leap, Savin. You were wise to stay put. Trust me on that one.”
How she had survived the lava falls was a question she’d never gotten an answer to. And really, she’d decided long ago she didn’t want that answer. There had been a reason she was whisked into Daemonia. A wicked, selfish reason for which she could never forgive the perpetrator.
Savin considered her words. Surely his next question would be, how had she survived? So she would redirect his thoughts. “What about you? Do you have any girlfriends?”
His brow quirked; then his lips dallied with a smile before he shook his head. “I’m not so talented with the suave and smooth. All that dating stuff feels awkward.”
“A man so handsome and kind as you has trouble with women? Surely, you’ve dated.”
“I have. I do. Eh. It never lasts. I’m human, Jett, but this demon inside me makes it difficult to relate to human women. I’m different than most. I know things I shouldn’t know about things that shouldn’t exist. And I have to protect that side of me from discovery. You know? I did date a vampiress once. I don’t like the idea of getting bitten, though, and that did seem to be a requirement to a happy relationship.”
“Did she bite you?”
“I wouldn’t let her. It was tempting. I understand the bite is orgasmic. Oh, uh, sorry. I shouldn’t talk like that around you.”
“Why not? We’re both adults. I am a grown woman.” And she was feeling more of herself with every moment she sat near Savin. He’d toyed with getting bitten by a vampire? Jett traced the bottom tip of her canine tooth. It was sharp, but not as pointed as usual without her sheen. “I know things,” she said. “Trust me, I’m not an innocent.”
“All right, then.” He considered his glass, and Jett sensed his sudden discomfort.
“Vampires! So many creatures walking this realm,” she tossed out to break the tension. “All the things we once thought were only make-believe. All of them predators and prey.”
“I’ve never been prey and don’t intend to start. Trust me on that one.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Hand me the bottle. Let’s finish it off.”
She grabbed the bottle and went up on her knees to slide closer to Savin, setting the bottle on his thigh. When he gripped it, she placed her hand over his. He turned his head, and the scent of him invaded her pores on a tease. As a woman, she had needs. And those needs screamed for satisfaction right now. A new turn at satisfaction, actually. One that she might not regret, or that would leave her shivering in revulsion.
“My turn to ask the questions,” she said. “Or rather, I’ve a request.”
He studied her hand still resting over his, and she released him so he could pour the last inch into his glass. He tucked the bottle on the other side of his thigh, then said, “Shoot.”
Boldness had been bred into her over the long and unending years of her exile. And she was feeling her mettle now that she’d begun to acclimate to this realm. Jett touched the ends of Savin’s dark hair and swept them over his shoulder. With the back of her forefinger, she traced along his neck up to the bristly beard hairs. He was warm, much more so than she’d expected. Fiery, even. But never dangerous, at least, not to her darkness.
“Do you think I’m pretty, Savin?”
Now his gaze locked on to hers, and she felt the heat of him scurry over her skin. It danced about her arms and torso and tightened her nipples. Mmm...he was not a man to be ignored.
“I do.”
“Do you remember when we were kids and I asked you to kiss me and you said you couldn’t until we were older because we’d have to be married and you’d probably have to like girls to do so?”
He nodded and, with a tilt of his head, chuckled softly. “You remember that? I’ve always respected women. My mother taught me that.”
“Yes, you are a kind man. But. Are we old enough to kiss now?”
Her finger wandered over his chin and followed the line of hairs below the center of his bottom lip. She traced lightly over his mouth. All the while his gaze was intent on hers. Desire smoldered in his deep dark eyes. And she could smell it on him, even though it was a scent that had usually offended her. Not so from Savin. He was a real man. Not a demon.
“Kiss me,” she whispered. She moved nearer until their noses were close enough to brush. He smelled like the brisk Paris air and fiery whiskey, with a rich earthy tang of man.
“Jett, I—”
“Yes?”
A hush of his breath played over her lips. “Are you sure?”
“I never ask for things I don’t want. That’s a waste of words.”
She ran her fingers along his cheek and back through his hair.
She would not kiss him. He must come to her. Otherwise, she would not know if he was merely doing as she asked or if he genuinely wanted to. But the heat of his body so close to hers was incredible. Tempting. And she felt dizzied, yet also emboldened by the alcohol. If he refused her request, it would crush her.
When his mouth met hers, the connection felt tentative for but a moment. Savin’s hand slipped along her neck, gentle but guiding, as he tilted her head to better receive the taste of his desire. He invaded her with his presence in a way she had never known. And she wanted to keep it. To know him as only adults could know each other.
His mustache brushed her upper lip, and their noses nudged. Eyes closed, she gripped at his wavy hair. Their intense connection rocketed up the delicious tingle that began at her mouth and coiled rapidly throughout her body. Jett slid a leg over his lap, her knee hitting the whiskey bottle, and straddled him. He slipped a hand along her back, not breaking the kiss, instead keeping her firmly in place upon him.
She wanted to taste him, to drink the whiskey from his tongue. That wish was granted as he dashed his tongue along the seam of her mouth. Such a spectacular sensation giddied up her spine. The man’s throaty groan clued her he enjoyed kissing her as much as she did him.
His tongue was hot and slick as he tasted her teeth, tongue and her lips. She copied his movements, daring him into a deep dance that ignited the coil of want in her belly, and lower. It was not a sensation she had known—too easy, too comfortable—and it alerted her for a few moments, but she would not let him know her caution rose. The width of his hand spanned her back as he gentled that sudden anxiety with the realization that he might only protect her and—if she was lucky—give her pleasure.
He must. She deserved it.
Bracketing his face with both palms, Jett tilted her head, seeking to devour his whiskey sweetness. When she brushed her hard nipples against his chest, again the man moaned. Yes, she liked his reaction. He was under her command now. And that empowered her.
Yet when he slipped out his tongue and kissed her mouth, then bowed his forehead to hers to end the kiss, she wanted to greedily pull him back for another. So she did. This time the clutch of his hand against her hip was more urgent. And his other hand slid over her derriere and squeezed.
She wanted to feel his body against hers, skin to skin, to know what his muscles felt like flexing with movement, melding against her body, and to own him.
But she was getting carried away.
Jett lashed her tongue along Savin’s lower lip, then met his gaze.
“Whew!” he said.
Exactly. And kneeling over him, firmly in his embrace, she could sense...something similar within him. The demoness he claimed had hitched a ride to this realm with his escape? The Other. Her presence was faint, barely a shimmer that traced the man’s veins. And yet she wanted Jett to know of her presence.
Oh, she was aware.
Jett thumbed Savin’s mouth. “I’ve never been kissed like that.”
His eyebrow quirked.
“Actually, I’ve never been kissed until now.”
“You’re—Really?”
She nodded. “Finally, that kiss you promised me when we were kids has been granted. And don’t think you have to stop giving them to me.”
“That was an intense kiss. A guy would never know you’d not done such before.” He looked aside. Were his thoughts going to places she didn’t want them to go?
Jett kissed him again. She would claim this man, body and soul. Because that was what she did to survive.
