Demonkeepers

them both naked and straining together, finding the power of flesh and fire. And in that moment, what had started as duty morphed to pure desire.

His words feathered across her lips as he said, “Expediency or not, there’s no reason we can’t enjoy ourselves. Which brings me back to those fantasies I was talking about. They all started something like this.”

He closed the last few inches separating them. And kissed her.

Jade was dimly aware that a small sound escaped her, part surprise, part invitation. Whereas the old Lucius might have paused a moment, as if questioning whether it was really what she wanted, this new version of him bypassed the niceties and went in deep, long and wet, kicking the heat inside her even higher and sparking an inner moment of holy shit as she was assaulted by a barrage of sensations, both familiar and unfamiliar.

A stranger’s muscular arms banded around her, pressing her to a stranger’s wide, hard chest. But although the angles and pressures were different, and the smell and very energy of him were more potently masculine than before, she recognized the man she’d known in the earnestness of his kiss, his sense of focus. For a fleeting second, she thought this was what it must be like to kiss a first lover years later, after he’d matured. It was as if the old Lucius had been her high school sweetheart, not yet grown into his body, whereas the man who slid his hand up to her nape, gathered a handful of her hair, and used it to change the angle of their kiss, bringing it deeper and wetter—that man was the fully grown version of him, the fulfillment of the young man’s promise. Except that the Lucius she had known had been a man already, full-grown and genius- smart. Which meant . . . what? Who was holding her now?

That thought brought a kick of nervous heat. Or maybe—probably—the heat came from the way his lips slanted across hers, the way his tongue touched hers, stroking, bringing sensations that were familiar, yet not. His bulk and strength both excited and intimidated her as he caught her up against his body, their clothing creating crazy-hot friction as he lifted her to her toes, letting her feel every muscled inch of him. She felt the hard ridge of his erection straining behind the fly of his jeans, and a spurt of hot, heady desire pounded through her at the thought of straddling that place, riding it, taking him within her. This was about the two of them now, about the pleasure they could give each other without expectations, hurt feelings, or recriminations. Heat flared in her bloodstream; she poured herself into the kiss as energy coursed through her—maybe magic, maybe pure lust; she wasn’t sure she knew the difference anymore, wasn’t sure she cared.

On one level, she remained dimly aware that she was there for a reason, that the kiss was about far more than two people—former lovers, former friends—turning each other on. Yet at the same time it was just the two of them. Friction was a delicious incitement as he got a hand between their bodies and cupped one of her breasts, rubbing the nipple to a point while kissing her with the same raw intensity she remembered from before, yet bringing a response that was so much more than it had been. His new bulk made her feel small and delicate, while the focus of his concentration made her feel that she was, at that moment, the center of his universe.

Yes, she thought as a moan hummed in her throat. Yes, there.

She wasn’t thinking of the Nightkeepers now, wasn’t pursuing her promise to her king or her opportunity to be on the front lines of the war. Her whole world had coalesced to the sensation of his body against hers, the drag of his hands down her ribs and back up again, and the hard press of his mouth as they twined together and kissed, hot, wet, and deep. Her response spiraled higher; she fisted her hands in his hair, trying to get closer to him, plaster herself against him, hell, get inside the jeans and tee that barred her hands from the body she felt beneath. More, she thought. I want more. Or maybe she said it aloud, whispering it in one of the brief interludes when their lips parted for a breath.

She must have, because moments later he broke the kiss and eased away.

She was breathing hard, her heart pounding a mad race in her chest. He was breathing fast too—she could hear it, practically feel it even though they weren’t pressed together anymore. Peripherals returned; she could hear the faint rustle of leaves around them, feel the hint of coolness as the too-

humid air brushed along her overheated skin. She felt more than saw when he held out a hand to her.

“Come back to the cottage with me,” he said, the words seeming more a command than a question.

A greedy knot of excitement lodged in her core as she ignored the faint warning still chiming deep within, and instead reached for his hand, twining her fingers through his. “Let’s go.”

CHAPTER THREE

Anticipation vibrated through Lucius as he guided Jade along the packed-dirt path to the cottages.

Clustered together, the cabins formed what he thought of as a mage motel, relatively private, but cookie- cutter generic. Just now, the other cottages were empty. He’d noticed it as the dusk fell on the night of the new moon, and had guessed what the Nightkeepers were up to, and why. The knowledge had sent him out into the night to wait for Jade, because he’d wanted to approach her on his terms this time. Before, he’d fallen too hard, too fast, making the mistake of thinking yet again that the woman he was panting after was on the same page as him, relationship-wise.

Not this time, though. This new and improved version of him wouldn’t make the mistakes of his other, weaker incarnation.

He glanced over as they walked. In the dim light coming from his cottage, her face was a pale oval of smooth, pearlescent skin and features so perfect they could have come from a Victorian cameo. The darkness robbed her eyes of color, but his mind filled in the delicate sea-foam green that matched so well with the sacred stone she was named after. She was Nightkeeper-tall, only a few inches shorter than the six-four he’d recently attained. But where Alexis, Patience, and Sasha often moved with aggressive swaggers, Jade always seemed to glide, serene and elegant and wholly feminine. Maybe it was because she, like Anna, commanded a talent more cerebral than the warrior’s magic, but the comparison ended there. Where Anna was reserved, Jade was open and giving; where Anna wanted to escape her duty and destiny, Jade wanted to be more than her bloodline role. And where Anna stayed away, Jade had come back when the magi needed her. When he needed her, though he hadn’t wanted to admit it, or make the call.

Her straight, dark hair was longer than it had been before, an empirical reminder of the five, almost six months that had elapsed since he’d last seen her. But he had needed the time to put himself back together on his own terms. He hadn’t wanted to be her patient, didn’t want her to see him the way she did her old clients, with a mixture of empathy and secret inner horror. He’d wanted to be stronger than that, tougher. He’d worked out, hour after hour, forcing himself through increasingly punishing routines as he fought to reclaim his body from the weakness that had plagued him in the wake of the makol’s exorcism. In doing so, it seemed that he’d triggered something else, something that had made him progressively bigger and stronger. Magic, she’d said, and she was probably right; he’d discussed that possibility with Strike and the others as they had tried to figure out how to unlock the Prophet’s powers. But the question remained: If he’d internalized a connection to the psi barrier that powered the Nightkeepers’ magic, thereby gaining some of their physical traits, why the hell couldn’t he connect to the damned library? He was perfect for the job; what Mayanist wouldn’t give his right nut to get his hands on an artifact cache of the library’s reputed scope? More, he knew how to read the glyphs and interpret the inscriptions, knew what the Nightkeepers needed. He just had to get into the pocket of the barrier where the library had been hidden . . . but so far that had been a big-ass fail.

He’d shed blood onto the Nightkeepers’ sacred altar and the First Father’s tomb. He’d prayed to gods deafened by the skyroad’s destruction. He’d attempted to uplink with Strike and the others during the spring equinox. Hell, he’d even whacked off onto the damned altar—all that had gained him was an unceremonial mess. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that the next step was Jade.

He’d been making plans to go after her, but the royal council had beaten him to it. And as he’d stood in the shadows, eavesdropping, he’d known he wasn’t going to turn her away. He was going to love her as he should have done before—with pleasure and without strings. And, gods willing, he’d find his way to the magic that had become his through accident rather than bloodline destiny.

The man he’d been before would’ve paused at the cottage door to make sure she hadn’t changed her mind