Dark Desire After Dark

Now she would be the difference between Rydstrom reclaiming his kingdom or not.

Reclaiming Rothkalina… His heart beat faster at the idea of liberating his country, working to see his people prosper for the first time in a millennium.

Omort had been brutal to them, any rebellions crushed, the offenders sadistically punished.

But right now, their freedom was resting in…Cade's hands. Which was a tenuous position to be in.

Cade frustrated the hell out of him. Rydstrom was a male who worshipped reason, the rare rage demon who never lost his temper. Except with Cade—who knew how to push his buttons like no one else. And in return, Rydstrom was hard on him. Some said too hard.

Yet after every one of their infamous fistfights, just when Rydstrom was ready to part ways permanently, he'd remember his brother as a towheaded pup of seven, still with his baby horns, following him around, hero- worshipping him. Rydstrom would feel some flicker of hope that Cade could still pull back from the brink and make something meaningful of his life.

But if he didn't do the right thing now, that hope would be forever finished.

Recalling the day Cade had first seen Holly, Rydstrom increased his speed….

A little less than a year ago, Cade had taken on a job to retrieve a highborn demon's son from the Tulane campus. The son wasn't merely experimenting at passing as a human. The young male had actually been living the lifestyle, cutting off his horns, filing his fangs down, refusing to teleport.

The horrified parents wanted him brought home, without the 'shameful secret' getting out to their friends and business associates.

Cade hadn't agreed with the parents' view—one of his mottos was To each his own. However, his overriding outlook was more along the lines of Another day, another dollar. The job had won out.

Rydstrom had accompanied him to the campus to make sure the extraction went smoothly. On the way to the son's dorm, they'd passed an auditorium with a sign announcing Mathematics Awards Today!

Cade had been amused, ready to ridicule. 'Geeks on patrol, yeah?'

Though he'd been schooled in the basics of writing, mathematics, and languages, Cade still had a chip on his shoulder that he'd never been educated like other royals because he'd been fostered out. For him, there'd been no higher learning in subjects like philosophy, astronomy, or literature. And even after all these centuries, he felt lacking.

Over the years, Rydstrom had often found books on subjects like those among Cade's possessions. His brother, the cutthroat mercenary, was secretly educating himself….

Then Cade had seen Holly Ashwin up onstage receiving a first-place math award. 'Now, that's a fine bit of grumble and grunt, yeah?' Rydstrom could swear that Cade made his lower-class accent even lower just to screw with him.

At the time, he hadn't understood Cade's attraction. The girl was pretty, no doubt of it, but she'd been buttoned-up, with glasses, no makeup, and her hair pulled back in a tight bun. She'd been brimming with a quiet confidence and was obviously smart—definitely not like Cade's typical fare of brazen and empty-headed.

'Come on, Cade, it's not as if we blend in,' Rydstrom had said. Both of them stood over six and a half feet tall and wore hats.

But Cade had waited until the crowd adjourned. When she'd exited the auditorium, he'd called to her, 'Come here, little bit. Got a question about the beauty pageant you just dominated.'

She'd turned to him with her eyes narrowed, pushing up her glasses with the tip of her forefinger.

Rydstrom had leaned against the corner of the building, watching in grim fascination, like a bystander who saw the train coming and knew the track had been blown out ahead.

Cade's easy grin had charmed female after female, and he no doubt expected this one to heed him. Instead, she'd stood her ground and looked down her nose at him. 'Can I help you?'

Flummoxed, Cade had crossed the distance to her as if helpless not to. 'Ah, yeah. What's, uh, doing in there?'

She'd repeated, 'What's doing?'

Taken off guard because she wasn't receptive to his flirting, Cade had stared, flushing at his own stammering attempts to talk to her. At one point, he'd blatantly peered around her to check out her figure again as if he couldn't help himself.

Just as Cade had reached forward, looking for all the world like he intended to undo her hair, and she'd looked as if she'd slap him soundly for it, Rydstrom had broken up the interaction.

Without a word, the girl had pivoted on her heel and started away.

As Rydstrom dragged him in the other direction, Cade had looked back over his shoulder. In a crushed tone, he'd said, 'She didn't glance back at me. Not once.'

In the months to come, Cade had discovered everything there was to know about her. Just last week, Rydstrom had caught him kicked back on a downtown roof with a flask of demon brew, spying on her swimming. Even at a critical time like this.

Yes, she was likely the only female he could ever be whole with, have offspring with, know real happiness with, but Rydstrom still couldn't understand it. The kingdom always came first.

He would die for his people. Why wouldn't Cade—

Eyes stared back at him in the headlights. Not an animal, a woman.

He slammed on the brakes and swerved, the McLaren skidding out of control. Just when he was about to right the vehicle, a bridge abutment seemed to appear from nowhere; he careened into it.

When he'd finally stopped moving, he grasped his head, shaking off dizziness.

Staggering out to survey the damage, he crunched over cement littered with glass, chunks of ruptured tire, and even bits of the frame.

At the sight, he whistled in a breath. Totaled. The right side of his car was completely shaved off. So where is the woman?

Flashes of her arose in his mind—eyes wide with fear, long red hair whipping as he'd just missed her.

He lumbered back in the direction he'd come. 'Is someone here?' he called. 'Are you hurt?'

No answer. The closest gas station was at least twenty-five miles away. He fished out his cell phone from his jacket.

Out of area, the screen read. 'Bugger me.'

When he glanced back up, he caught sight of her farther along this deserted stretch of road, standing alone.

What the hell is she doing all the way out here by herself?

Their eyes met. At that moment, he caught her sultry, feminine scent.

The night began to feel dreamlike, surreal.

He started toward her, not bothering to retrieve his hat—with her otherworldly beauty, he could tell she was definitely one of the Lore.

Shining red hair curled down to her waist. As he neared, he saw that her eyes were dark as night. A gown of the palest blue silk clung to her lush curves. When he spied the outline of her hardened nipples, he ran a hand over his mouth.

He was fifteen hundred years old. Had he ever been so instantly and fiercely attracted to a female?

She began sauntering along the road away from him.

'No, wait! Are you all right?'

She turned to him but continued to step back.

'I won't hurt you,' he called, following. 'Do you have a car out here?'

'I need your help,' she said, her voice throaty.

'Of course.' What would she think of his battle-scarred face up close? He hadn't cared much in the past, but with her…the idea of seeing her disgust made him hesitate. Until she turned and skipped down an embankment— farther away from him.

He hastened after her. 'Do you live near here?'

'Need your help,' she said once more, ducking behind a willow by the water's edge.