Mysteria Nights

each hand.

“Hello, angel,” he said. “We’re gonna have to talk about the company you keep.”

Six

“My, aren’t we the center of attention,” Quel said as he sauntered toward Shay.

She stared at him, her lips parted in surprise, the stick still gripped in her fists. This time there was more tenderness in her gaze than heat, more apology than anger. For a second he thought she’d run headlong into his arms. A kiss of gratitude with the promise of more to come would hit the spot. No such luck. He knew what he looked like: his narrowed, mistrustful eyes and guarded expression kept her rooted to the path. “Any reason I should know about for why there are suddenly so many subdemons, Miss d’Mon? The town’s been clear of them for months.”

“I don’t know. You’re the demon hunter, not me.”

“Any prior experience with demons?”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“I don’t think so.”

“If you feel the need to interrogate me, call the sheriff and make it official.” She looked him square in the eye when they spoke, and she spoke what was on her mind, holding nothing back. She seemed afraid at times, just like Harmony said she was, but not afraid of him. Not one frickin’ bit. She held her ground, didn’t let him intimidate her. It had him aching to get her into bed. To see how she looked at him then. To see if she maintained eye contact when he made her come. When he made her beg for more. Yeah, that’d be something.

She reached for the child, lifting him out of the stroller. Her voice lost its edge. “Thank you for saving us.”

“That’s what they pay me for, ma’am.” His hunter senses were turned on so damn high that he could feel the surge of heat in her body as he took another step closer. Longing and hunger flashed in her eyes. Her scent washed all around him. It was a frickin’ aphrodisiac.

“Stop it,” she whispered.

“Ma’am?”

“The way you look at me, it drives me crazy.”

“Nice to hear it’s mutual.”

“Shay! Damon Junior!”

The boy squealed at the sight of Damon and Harmony jogging toward them. “Mama! Papa!”

The reverend reacted in obvious terror, seeing the dead goat, the fallen ravens, and scattered feathers. “Subdemons.”

“Aye,” Damon said, grim. His wife gently took the boy from Shay.

“You okay, honey?” Harmony murmured to Shay.

“Fine!” Her voice was overly perky. A sign of guilt, but she’d done nothing to warrant it. It added to the mystery Quel was determined to figure out.

“Miss d’Mon was no mere observer,” Quel told them. “She was fighting them back with a stick when I got here. Defending your little boy.”

His compliment drew praise from Harmony and Damon yet seemed to make Shay uneasy. In fact, her obvious embarrassment told him she’d prefer the topic to go away completely. Why?

Damon’s hand fell on Quel’s shoulder. “You protected my son—both of you,” the former demon said, his voice deep with emotion, with accent thicker. “You have my loyalty and my gratitude.” He gave Quel’s shoulder a hearty squeeze before turning back toward the cottage with his wife.

“Would you like a second chance at those brownies, Mr. Laredo?” Harmony called over her shoulder.

“No thanks, Reverend.” He wanted a second chance at Shay d’Mon.

She started to follow the couple. Quel cleared his throat. She stopped, glancing over her shoulder. “Woman, you ought to take credit where credit is due. You did a damn fine job with those subdemons.”

“The credit’s yours. You killed them.”

“You’re no coward. That’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of.”

She sighed in exasperation. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She started walking away.

“You want to get a drink?”

She halted. “What?”

“A drink. On me. At Knight Caps, the bar on Main.”

The breeze tossed her curls and the hem of her soft shirt. Her silence made him feel like an idiot for asking her out.

Since when had he ever cared whether a woman took him up on an invitation or not? When they said no, he’d call it their loss. Hell, usually he wasn’t ever doing the asking; he didn’t need to. Women were buying him the drinks, not the other way around. That’s not how he wanted it with Shay. Suddenly it became pretty damn important that she said yes. “When’s your night off?” he persisted.

“Tomorrow. I’m off at six. Six until . . . until dawn.”

He lifted a brow, waiting. As much expectancy as reluctance filled the new silence. Maybe she was in as much doubt about him as she was her. He didn’t blame her.

“Knight Caps,” she said finally. “Tomorrow, six o’clock.”

He touched a hand to the brim of his hat. “Yes, ma’am. Six works.” The “until dawn,” he figured, was still negotiable.

Laredo walked her all the way back to the house. Thunder rumbled distantly. The scent of rain was acrid in the air. Then the first drops fell, wetting her skin. An image of stripping Laredo out of his clothes and making love on the wet lawn filled her mind with vividly erotic images. She sucked in a quiet breath, trying to control this new body that seemed to have a will of its own. Her arousal added to the many sensations, internal and external, colliding in a vivid, exhilarating storm. All these long centuries, she thought she knew what it was like to be alive. She hadn’t known squat.

The demon hunter stopped at the base of the porch steps, turning up his collar against the rain. His right cheekbone had a small scar. A bump on the bridge of his nose hinted at a long-ago break. He hadn’t lived an easy life or even a happy life; even without her demon mental powers, she could tell.

It made her want to make it all better.

Stop! It was bad enough he hunted demons. Why did he have to look like the only mortal she ever cared about and would have lost her heart to, had she a heart to lose? Acquiring a temporary soul may have heightened her ability to feel emotion, but she sure as snake’s scales wasn’t going to let it turn her into a simpering, lovesick fool. Her weakened state was humiliating as it was. No need to make it any worse.

“Before I go, since you have such a nasty habit of attracting subdemons”—he lifted his silver cross off his neck—“use my talisman to ward them off.” He dropped the chain over her head.

Cool and smooth, the cross dangled between her breasts. She gasped, half expecting some sort of sizzling to begin, the silver burning her demon flesh, the cross shredding her, but her skin didn’t react. In wonder, she fingered the cross. This body of hers was unlike any other she’d inhabited. “It protects you?” she asked, trying to hide her shock.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

That had more to do with the fact she’d been avoiding him, fearing Lucifer would sense her attraction to the mortal. Now she’d gone and agreed to meet him—at a bar, no less—like a common human.

“Well, I’d better get going, Miss d’Mon.”

“I guess so,” she said.

Hesitating, he acted as if he wanted to say more. She knew she did. The intensity between them made no sense, considering they hardly knew each other. Their inexplicable connection seemed to prove what she already sensed herself. They went back, way back. Fifteen thousand years and counting. Call it reincarnation, whatever, but they’d been down this road before: Laredo as a doomed Ice