She rolled her eyes at the irony of the name. Hadn’t provided much shelter for the poor dead victim, had it? Autopsy reports indicated hard-pressed impressions of fingers on the throat, including puncture wounds, which the police surmised were caused by some kind of small tool like an ice pick.
Or a demon’s sharp claws, but the coroner hadn’t guessed that, unsurprisingly.
So there she sat in her perfect spot in the darkened corner, her gaze pouring over every table, every patron seated at the long, scarred bar, searching out anyone who just might fit a demon’s profile. She picked out what she thought might be a few suspicious characters, and kept an eye on them. Tall, dark, and handsome types who seemed cold and aloof, with the kinds of smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes. Then again, that could be just a normal guy thing. How would she know? Still, worth a try anyway. She did her best to throw off signals that made herself approachable, but not too easy. And she made it appear as if she’d been drinking. A lot.
Which in the eyes of a demon looking for food made her prey.
When one of those types approached her, she leaned back in the booth and propped one of her booted feet up on the threadbare vinyl seat.
“You alone?” he asked.
“You blind?” She shot it back dripping with sarcasm, not wanting to appear too available.
Not at all deterred by her attitude, he slid into the booth alongside her and held out his hand. “I’m John.”
How nondescript. She slid her hand in his, noting the icy cold fingers barely touching hers before he pulled away. Bingo. “I’m Mandy”
“So what are you doing here tonight, Mandy?”
She decided she’d play it like a woman who’d just gotten dumped and was looking to rebound in a hurry with some anonymous guy. She gave him a half smile. “Getting drunk, John. What about you?”
He lifted his beer. “Same. Not much action, though.”
She gazed around the bar. “It’s a slow night. Are you looking for some action?” She made a point of giving him the once-over, hoping she could fake some glimmer of attraction.
“Who wouldn’t be? You’re gorgeous.”
She took a drink of her beer to hide her grimace, then forced a smile afterward. “Thanks. You’re not so bad looking yourself.”
“You wanna dance?” he asked.
Someone must have pumped a couple quarters in the jukebox, because there seemed to be music playing. Really lousy music.
“Uh, sure.” She stood and followed him across the floor, stomping on cracked peanut shells on the way. He held out his hands and she stepped into his arms, trying not to shudder in revulsion when he touched her.
God, he was cold. And it was like ninety degrees outside, not much cooler in the bar. These demons were going to have to do a better job of masking the chill factor.
He laid his cheek against hers. “You smell really nice. Like vanilla.”
“Thanks.”
“Your skin is soft, too.”
Is this what went on between the opposite sexes, this lame search for something romantic or sexy to say? If it was, she realized she hadn’t been missing a damn thing all these years.
“I bathe regularly. Glad to know it’s effective.” Really, she was at a loss here. All she wanted to do was kill this thing, not make a date.
The killing part took front and center when he grabbed her ass and pulled her against what appeared to be a rather sizeable erection.
Now he really was going to have to die.
Plastering on what she hoped was her sexiest smile, she leaned back. “Got something in mind?”
“I think you know I do.”
Gag. She lowered her voice in an attempt to sound sexy. “Then let’s get out of here. My car’s in back. I’ve got a nice big SUV” With weapons in the backseat.
“Sounds great. Let me go pay the tab and I’ll be right behind you.”
She let her lips brush his. “I’m counting the seconds.” Until you’re dead.
She turned on her heel and went out the door, stalking to her car, shuddering off the effects of that thing touching her. She clicked the remote on the SUV and went straight for the backseat, climbed in and left the door open. She grabbed the pistol and slid it behind her back, then scooted into the far corner. Silence was on, safety was off. She was ready for him.
For it.
While she waited, she reminded herself this thing wasn’t human.
And it wasn’t Lou. It was okay to kill it.
As the demon approached her vehicle in the deserted, dark alley, she caught the telltale glow of his pale blue eyes and knew with full certainty that she’d found the right target. She grinned as he ducked his head inside the SUV
“Ready for me?” he asked.
“More than. Come on in and shut the door behind you.”
His teeth gleamed white as he pulled the door closed and slid across the bench seat until their thighs touched.
She had to force herself to stay put and not move away, especially when he loomed over her, his intent more than obvious. He was going to kiss her.
Okay, she could handle this. It would make her job easier.
“You are so beautiful.”
The demon needed some original lines. Did women fall for this shit? He leaned in, his eyes glowing an unnatural blue as he pressed cold lips to hers. She fought to keep her lips moving, trying to act like she was into it while she moved her arm from around her back, insinuating the gun between them. In a lightning quick moment she pressed the barrel of the pistol against the demon’s middle.
He had no time to react, and Mandy didn’t give herself time to think or to focus on his face. She pulled the trigger, the force of the blast catapulting the demon off her and across the vehicle. It slammed against the door, blood spraying everywhere. She fired again, once, twice, three times. Again and again she pulled the trigger, emptying the clip containing the liquid nitrogen. The demon had long ago stopped moving, the clip was empty, but she kept pulling the trigger. Sweat poured from her body, soaking through her clothes. She wasn’t even seeing the creature anymore.
All she saw was Lou’s face swimming in front of her, the sadness in his eyes as he crumpled to the ground. He knew the price of what he’d asked of them, but he’d asked it anyway. She’d see his face every day, every night, until she died. She’d relive the horror of what she’d done, just as she was doing right now.
Then she couldn’t see anything at all, her vision distorted by tears.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, continuing to press down on the trigger. “I’m so, so sorry.”
What seemed like hours later, Mandy was still in the backseat, staring at the dead demon. Her fingers had long ago gone numb, still wrapped around that pistol, still in full press on the trigger.
She swiped at her eyes. How long had she been there, frozen in some cosmic funk, sitting in the car with a dead demon?
She was going to have to move, and soon. The bar would be closing. People would come. They’d probably notice the dead body slumped against the back window, the splotches of blood on the windows. She was surprised someone hadn’t come along and seen them.
God, she was such a mess. Stiff, sore, wrung out.
But she’d managed to kill the demon—at least, she figured it was dead. She raised her boot and gave it a hard kick between the legs. No reaction.
Okay, it was dead. She grabbed it by the collar and pulled it facedown onto the floor of the backseat, then crawled into the driver’s seat and started up the engine, cranking up the heater. Despite the sweltering humidity outside, she was shivering cold. She drove to the compound, her mind on autopilot, refusing to think about anything that had happened. When she reached the compound, she pressed the remote to the security gate and announced her arrival, then indicated on her comm that she was coming in with a dead demon.
She backed in and techs were there waiting to unload the carcass. She slid out the door and tossed the keys to the waiting tech. “It’s i
n the backseat,” she said, then scooted by a waiting Michael. She felt his stare on her as she walked into the center and down the long hallway. She made it into the elevator, hoping Michael would want to see the demon, but he stepped into the elevator with her. She pushed the button for the second floor.
Michael didn’t say a word. Neither did she. When the doors opened, she hung a right, stopping at her room to key in her code. She pulled the door open and turned around to face him.
“Do you mind?”
“Yes, I do.” He stepped in and closed the door behind him.
She rolled her eyes and moved into the room, unbuckled her belt, and pulled clips of ammo out of the pockets of her camos. She lifted the tight shirt off and threw that on the little sofa, then toed off her boots.
Clad in only her tank top, camo pants, and socks, she glared at Michael. “I’d like to take a shower. I have blood all over me.”
“Did you have a good time tonight?”
“Yeah. I killed a demon. You should go check it out.”
“You look destroyed, Mandy”
She dragged her hand through her hair. She’d purposely left it down and loose tonight to look more attractive. Normally she had it pulled up or braided. Now it was a tangled mess. “I need to brush my hair. Sorry if I don’t look my best.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. There are dark circles under your eyes. You’re pale as death. You look ragged. Have you slept?”
Sleep? What’s that? “Of course. I’m fine. Did you hear me say I shot a demon? Are you at all interested in my report?”
“Eventually. I’m more interested in you. Something happened in that cold room the other day with the demon.”
She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “It was nothing. I’m over it. Did you hear what I said? I killed a demon tonight, Michael.” She needed him to hear her. She needed to get back in the field. She really needed a shower. The smell of demon blood was making her dizzy, nauseous. Michael’s face began to swim before her eyes. Shit.
“It wasn’t nothing. You look pale. Oh, Christ, Mandy put your head down.”
All she heard was his voice buzzing in her ears. He reached behind her and grabbed the nape of her neck, shoving her head down between her knees.
“Stay there. Don’t move.”
It wasn’t like she could sit upright. Not with the room spinning. Her whole body began to shake. This wasn’t good. What the hell was happening to her? Some kind of delayed stress reaction or something?
The last thing she wanted was to fall apart.
Correction: The last thing she wanted was to fall apart with Michael in here. She’d held it together just fine the whole way back here. Why did he have to follow her to her room?
“Get out, Michael.” She was going to throw up. She had to … oh, man, this sucked. She pressed her fingers to her temples. She was hot, cold, sweaty. What was happening to her?
Michael came back a few seconds later and swept her hair away from her nape. Something cold and wet pressed to the back of her neck. It felt good, helped to stem the nausea some.
He squatted down in front of her, stroked her hair while he held the washcloth against her neck. “Better?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s get you up.”
Get up? No way. “I’ll be fine here. You can go now.”
“You’re covered in blood, Mandy. It’s all over your hands and your face.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Ick.”
If she kept her eyes closed, the dizziness wasn’t so bad. She could just stay like this. But suddenly hands slid under her arms.
“Come on. We need to get you cleaned up.”
She didn’t want to get up. She wanted to go to sleep, to shut everything off, to stop thinking and feeling for a while. “No.”
“Yes.”
She was lifted, cradled against Michael’s chest. Really, she wanted to protest. She wasn’t a little thing, not petite like many women. She was almost six feet tall and not at all a lightweight, yet Michael carried her effortlessly into the bathroom. She heard the sound of water turning on. The shower.
He set her on her feet, leaning her against the cool tile wall, then she felt hands at the button on her camos. Her eyes shot open.
“I don’t think so.”
“Can you do it on your own?” He took a step back, only an inch or so. Her fingers fumbled at the buttons, her legs rubbery and unsteady as she began to slide down the wall.
Fuck. “No.” She fell back against the wall, helpless.
“You want me to get one of the female techs to come in and help you?”
“Oh, hell, no.” That would be just what she needed, some twit, gossipy female whispering about her. At least she could trust Michael not to blab about her failures. “Just do it.”
Michael undid the button and zipper on her pants, let them drop to the floor, then wrapped his arm around her while he lifted her tank top above her head. As she stood in her bathroom with the shower running, clad only in her bra and panties, she realized that no man had ever seen her in this little clothing.
And it was about to get worse than that.
“Hold on, Mandy.”
“Uh-huh.”
He bent down and she felt his hands on her hips as he dropped to the floor.
“Lift your foot so I can get your socks off.”
She cooperated to the extent she was able, her gaze drifting down to see Michael’s head against her thigh. She laid her hand on top of it. Soft, silky hair, just as she’d imagined. Too bad she was too dizzy, too sick, to really enjoy this, because Michael was a hot guy.
He stood and gazed down at her, something unfathomable in the depths of his blue eyes. “Can you get in there on your own?”
“Um. Sure.”
“Okay. I’ll let you take it from here, then.”
He let go. She wobbled and her knees buckled.
“Shit,” Michael said, grabbing her around the waist.
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Hold on to this.” He grabbed her hand and pulled the shower door closed, putting her hand on the towel rail outside the door. “Don’t let go. I’ll be right back.”
“Uh-huh.” Like she could go anywhere. Between the wall and the rack, she was good right here.
But Michael didn’t leave. He took a couple steps back and started undressing.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Taking off my clothes.” He kicked off his boots, then dropped his pants—oh, my God, he went commando. He did want her still standing, didn’t he? Why was he torturing her like this? And then he pulled his T-shirt off, revealing one tight, expanded chest with a smattering of dark hair.
She might be dizzy and sick, but by all that was holy, she wasn’t dead. Her mouth watered at the sight of all that male flesh. Dark, tanned, delicious. She couldn’t come up with enough adjectives to adequately describe the body being revealed in front of her. Really, she was weak enough already. This was agony. She had no experience with men. Especially naked men. Tall, well-built naked men. Damn.
And then he moved in, swept his arm around her and pressed his naked body against hers. She couldn’t breathe.
“Your body is hot to the touch, Mandy”
Yeah, she was hot all right. This wasn’t helping any. “I think I can probably handle it on my own.”
He cocked a brow. “Really.”
She managed a short nod. “Yeah.” She palmed his chest. Oh, man she really wanted to touch him, let her hands wander down his sculpted abs to that dark hair below, and points further south. “Let me give it a shot.”
“Okay.” He pulled the shower door open. She turned and her legs buckled. Michael was right there to catch her, his arm sweeping under her breasts to pick her up and brace her back against his chest. “I think I’ll just step in here with you.”
His deep voice reverberated against her back, his warm breath ruffling her hair. “Fine.” She gritted her teeth, figuring she ha
d to get this blood off. And she was too dizzy, weak, and sick to do anything about him being naked, so she figured this was going to be completely innocent.
Michael walked her slowly into the shower and under the spray. And oh, sweet heaven, it felt so good, the hot water cascading down over her face. She closed her eyes and let it cleanse her. She could already feel the demon’s blood washing away. She needed it to go away. She needed all of it to go away, especially the memories. Maybe those could slither down the drain, too.
Michael kept his arm firmly around her, and she had to admit, it helped. So did the water, offering her some clarity. He took a step back and grabbed the shampoo, poured it over her head.
“Lean against me,” he said.
“Like I have a choice?” She did, and he washed her hair. The act was so painfully intimate because no one had ever done it for her before—not that she could remember, anyway—and because no man had ever touched her this way. Hell, no man had ever touched her. The guys in the Realm would never let anyone close, and she hadn’t exactly lived a normal life. She wasn’t used to this kind of intimacy. Even though she knew Michael was just being kind. It wasn’t like he was interested or anything.
He dipped her head forward, rinsed her hair, applied conditioner and rinsed again. Then he grabbed the bar of soap and began to run it over her body. All. Over. Her. Body. Her arms, her back, sliding his soapy hands down her spine, stopping just short of her butt. And even though she wore bra and panties, this was delicious.