Demon from the Dark

Just after she'd somehow stuffed her swollen, pulpy feet back into her boots, she spied a blur of motion in the smoke beside her, heard a thump. Something had landed a couple of feet away, and it wasn't moving.

What now? Exhaling irritably, she leaned over.

Sightless eyes stared up at her. She scrambled back, tumbling off the stump onto her ass. There lay the head of one of the ghouls from the night before, its throat slashed, slime still oozing from serrated arteries.

She gazed up, squinting through the miasma, detecting a large form on the cliff above her. The demon.

Why would he do this? Was it some sick kind of warning?

Her temper ignited, melting away any fear of him. 'What is wrong with you?' She leapt to her feet, ripping open every remaining blister on them. I am so over this!

She was exhausted and battered, her temples beginning to pound. Her feet felt like someone had poured acid on them. Her pierced neck was in the itching, reddened stage of healing. 'That slime got on my boot! Disgusting demon!'

The last twenty-four hours had been the worst of her entire life. And he was going to keep at her? 'You think a decapitated head will scare me? You think it'll cow me into accepting you? Your 'attentions'?'

She snatched a softball-sized rock from the ground and flung it in his direction, heard a grunt. 'I've had stalkers before, you asshole!' Some really demented ones, too. One of them had strangled Mari's cat, leaving it on the front porch at Andoain. Mari had tried to resurrect the poor animal, but the process had devolved into Pet Sematary territory, or as Mari had sniffled, 'Tigger came back ... wrong.'

To make Mari feel better, Carrow had cursed the stalker to fall in love—with cacti.

When I get my powers back, demon...

The thought made her hesitate. Why would she ever expect to get them back here? Everything was just as miserable as she was. Hell, diddling the freaking vemon was her best hope for energy.

No, she wasn't there yet, wasn't ready to accept Slaine's 'claim.' There had to be another way to save Ruby.

Carrow listened for a response, heard nothing. 'Whatever you're going to do, do—it— now!'

Again, no reply. As long as she was utterly vulnerable, maybe she shouldn't antagonize the mythical abomination.

She gave a start when he dropped down just before her, crouching beside the head. She braced for another assault, but he merely watched her, calmly appraising.

His eyes were blue, not an enraged black. Instead of the mindlessness of the night before, there was intelligence burning in them, an animal cunning that kept her on edge.

No imminent attack? Could she be so lucky? She let out a shaky breath. Maybe he'd just wigged out because of his vampire blooding?

Able to see him more clearly now, she surveyed his appearance. He'd braided some hanks of his hair as warriors did in olden times, but the rest hung down, covering a good deal of his face. His hair and horns were so sand-coated, she couldn't determine their color. She was going with darkish for both.

There were bands of something like greasepaint streaked across his cheeks, reminding her of the camouflage the special-ops boys used on missions. Maybe that was why the vemon had seemed invisible last night?

His jaw and chin carried stubble that couldn't decide if it wanted to be a beard or not. She wished she could see his face clean-shaven—or hey, just clean. His nose was crooked, probably from an early break that hadn't healed right. It made him look like a bruiser.

Of its own accord, her gaze dipped to his mouth, a harsh slash with barely noticeable fangs. For some reason those fangs made Carrow think of the women she knew back home who loved being bitten....

On the whole, she didn't believe Slaine was hideous, but he wasn't hot by any means. Except in the body department. Again her gaze dipped. She grudgingly admitted his physique was magnificent.

While his hips were narrow, his shoulders were broad, real doorway wreckers. His chiseled torso was a masterpiece of flexing ridges, one lean side inked with that flaring black tattoo. The worn leather of his pants encased muscular thighs, and dark leather cuffs circled his brawny forearms and wrists.

She noticed his chainmail and chest had been cut in several new places—and that his left nipple was pierced with a small silver bar. Surprisingly, she found that aspect of the dirty demon ... sexy. In fact, everything about him from the neck down was.

Her breaths a thread shallower, she met his gaze, then tilted her head. His eyes really were an arresting shade of blue.

Just when she was about to deem one more thing semi-handsome about him, he shoved the head at her and it rolled to her feet.

'Really. Really? You crazy—ass—demon ...' She trailed off, craning her head as he rose to his full, towering height.

He held out his hand, palm up, and grated, 'Minde ara, alton.'

She thought he'd said, My female, come. Ah, Hekate, he wanted his female, his mate—to claim. She swallowed. He would consider her his property. A warrior like him, in a world like this ... soon, he'd just dispense with the chitchat and take what he wanted. 'You jump me again, and I'll tag you in the ballbag just like last night.'

His gaze was intent on her face, but not in an admiring way. He looked as if he was anticipating her next move.

Which he could never discern ... because she had no idea what she would do. Ideas surfaced and resurfaced, decisions and plays analyzed and discarded.

Was the demon her best chance of getting herself and Ruby home?

He was brutal in all ways. He'd thrown a freaking head at her. He'd bitten her, gorging himself on her blood.

Could Carrow actually surrender herself to him, allowing him to claim her? The night before when he'd been in the throes, he'd broken her wrist in seconds.

The idea of her body naked and defenseless for his use sent chills through her. Chills of fear. Only fear.

There had to be another way to save Ruby without getting herself mauled by an abomination.

When he began circling her, she pivoted to keep him in sight.

Think, Carrow! There might be another option besides Slaine. She'd quickly encountered other denizens of this plane—perhaps more were nearby? Possibly less hostile than Asmodel's gang? She was on a hell plane with knowledge about a scheduled opening into a relative heaven—maybe she could tempt some demons to join her quest.

She could tell them, Riches and territory can all be yours. Basically selling them lots in the burbs. Have you dreamed of a better life with your own backyard?

The Order wanted her back at the portal with the vemon in tow? Then she could show with an army of plundering demons heaven-bent on a new life in paradise. We can take over the portal, the entire facility!

If there was one thing Carrow excelled at, it was creating chaos. She would figure out a way to lose this freak for now, then give herself a day to find other demons.

Growing impatient, he shoved out his hand again. 'Alton, ara!'

'Come, female?' She crossed her arms over her chest. 'You expect me to go with you when you tore my neck with your bite! Should I just forget that you, you nutted on me?'