Wicked Edge

  She blinked. The thought occurred to her to deny she was wearing contacts, but instead, she lifted her chin. “No.”

  “Take them out, or I will.”

  She glanced down at his huge hands. No, she didn’t want one of those fingers in her eyes. Apparently the gig was up, anyway. “Fine.” Yanking off her glove, she reached up and removed the colored contacts to fling them onto the snow. The cold instantly enfolded her hand and dug into her eyes. Then she faced him squarely, her eyes no longer blue. “Happy now?”

  He slowly, very slowly, shook his head. Anger vibrated on the arctic breeze. “Fuck no, I’m not happy. Demon.”

  Chapter 4

  Daire stared at the stunning woman facing him so bravely. White-blond hair, sparkling black eyes, tiny stature, and hoarse voice. A purebred female demon. They were so rare as to be almost extinct, and not for a second had he considered she was part of the demon species. She looked much more angel than anything else. Of course, angels didn’t exist, and demons were just another race with no ties to heaven or hell. Just earth.

  Most demons gave off intrusive vibrations of energy, and it usually took years, centuries really, for one to be able to temper the waves. But this one? This one didn’t give off any hint of demonness. “Why couldn’t I tell what you are?” he asked, ignoring the freezing wind cutting into his eyes.

  Her gaze faltered and then strengthened. “Maybe you’re not all that talented.”

  At the moment, he didn’t appreciate flippancy. Standing this close to her, even knowing what she was, his body rioted. Not even the sub-zero temperature could cool his raging cock. “How old are you?”

  She huffed. “What a rude question.”

  “Answer it, or I’ll show you rude.”

  She rolled those stunning eyes. “Fine. I’m a hundred and twenty-five.” Then she frowned, looking no more than twenty-five years old. For her species, she was young. “How old are you?”

  “Over three centuries.” He narrowed his gaze, fighting every animalistic urge he owned not to tackle her to the ground and take what she’d offered the other night. “You’re not old enough to be able to mask your energy. Not nearly old enough to do it so well.” He’d met demons over a thousand years old who couldn’t mask to that degree. “Explain.”

  She lifted one small shoulder, and the wind kicked in, lifting her light hair. “We all have unique gifts, Enforcer. That’s mine.”

  He frowned as the cold slapped his bare face. Nothing about the woman was adding up, and even so, his fingers itched to run through her hair.

  She shivered.

  He swore. “Put your glove back on.”

  She slowly slipped her delicate hand back into the glove. The wind stirred up snow, and it swirled around, turning her into a magical princess. “I’m going to ask you again, how did you know to follow me to Norway and not Russia?” The woman spoke with intelligence and a hint of demand.

  The combination only turned him on, which made absolutely no sense. He liked quiet, sweet, structured women. “The mines in Russia are public knowledge; the mines here are not.” He’d figured she’d check out the secret mines first, and the bet had paid off. “What do you want with the Fryser Island mines, Cee Cee? If that’s your real name.”

  “It is.” She slid the glasses down her forehead to protect her eyes. The wind rolled dark clouds in from the sea, and the temperature instantly dropped further. “At least, that’s what my mother called me.”

  “The mines?”

  She shrugged, the movement oddly sensual. “I’m hunting a demon with strong connections to your people and your mines. You own two of the four here, and he owns the other two. Apparently this mine of yours is truly not producing.”

  “I don’t deal with demons,” he said, trying to keep derision from his tone. Truth be told, until he’d gotten to know Logan recently, he’d never liked a demon. “Who are you, ah, hunting?” It was hard to imagine the petite blonde hunting anybody, but looks were obviously misleading.

  She just stared at him, no expression on her smooth face.

  “Who are you?” he asked softly.

  She blinked, as if not expecting the question. “Nobody you need to worry about, Enforcer.” She slid one very small boot toward the sprawling snowmobile.

  “You became my business the moment you drugged me and stole my files as well as the private files of a member of the Coven Nine.” The second she’d smiled at him, he’d been in a constant state of arousal. “What did you drug me with?”

  She craned her neck toward the empty ignition slot and then sighed. “It was a horse sedative with a few tweaks. Quantum physics at its finest.”

  He widened his stance and fought a shiver as the blackened clouds started to cover the meager sun. “You hired a witch to alter the sedative and take me down.”

  “Not all witches belong to the Coven Nine,” she murmured.

  No shit. One of them was sprawled, unconscious, on the ice in front of him. “I’m well aware.”

  She smiled. “You’re fine, with no permanent damage, so how about we call it even?”

  Even? His chin lowered as his temper tried to spike. “You’re joking.”

  “No.” She mirrored his stance and planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t want to fight you.” Turning slightly, she glanced toward the empty orange building, revealing a wicked bruise along her jawline.

  “Holy fuck.” He moved before thinking, prowling toward her through the swirling snow, cupping her jaw. The bruise was too fresh for him to have done it the other night, thank God.

  She tried to step back, and the snowmobile stopped her. “I’m fine.”

  Rage, the real kind, roared through him. He released her and took a quick step away before fire flared through his right glove, burning it away. Taking several deep breaths, he quelled his temper and the flame.

  Her mouth formed a perfect O.

  Keeping her gaze, he drew a knife from his boot.

  She paled. “Wh—”

  “He dies,” Daire said, turning toward the prone witch.

  “No.” Cee Cee rushed toward him, grabbing his arm. “It was a fair fight, and then you knocked him out. Why would you kill him?”

  Daire stilled. The entire world halted, and he touched her with his now bare hand, running a finger along the darkening bruise. “For this.” Gladly. Her skin was softer than silk and twice as fragile. Snow licked against her surprisingly dark eyelashes and melted on her nose.

  Her finely arched eyebrows drew down, and she leaned back against the snowmobile, breaking his hold. “Um, we’re enemies. You get that, right?”

  “Aye.” It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered at the moment but avenging that purple mark on her face. “But I wouldn’t do that to you. Ever.”

  She tilted her head to the side, confusion all but rolling from her. “So you’re basically harmless to me.”

  He chuckled, even pissed off. “Oh, I didn’t say that.” She’d tell him everything he wanted to know, but he’d never punch a woman. He turned back toward the immediate problem.

  “Daire, please do not kill him,” she whispered.

  He sighed. “Why the hell not?”

  “There’s been enough death, don’t you think?” She pushed the glasses up her head again, her eyes onyx jewels. “No more.”

  The war had ended a little more than a year before, and too many immortals had died. Yet when he again glanced at the bruise on her face, he wanted to draw blood. He needed to harm the witch on the ground. But it didn’t have to be today, and it didn’t have to happen in front of Cee Cee. His chest hitched. “Well now, what kind of deal shall we strike?” he asked.

  She swallowed. “I’ll return your deeds and surveys to you, as well as the documents taken from Simone Brightston.”

  He smiled. “I assume they’re in the backpack you’re still wearing, and I believe I can get them if I so choose.” He faced her fully, more than a little curious how far she’d go. What would the little temptress offer?
/>
  Her nostrils flared, and a little color returned to her angled cheeks. “Fine. How about I don’t melt your brain out of your skull?”

  He slid the knife back into his boot. “Speaking of which, why didn’t you unleash a demon mind attack on Vegar here?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Please. It takes energy to shoot pain and terrible images into somebody else’s head, especially a witch’s. You must know that.”

  Aye, he did understand her people’s gifts and the toll it took on them. “You were about to get your ass burned.”

  She scoffed. “Hardly. I was just getting started.”

  Maybe. Maybe not. He cocked his head to the side. “Heal your face, Cee Cee.” Her people had just as much healing power as witches, and she should’ve already sent healing cells to her jaw. The bruise was making it difficult for him to focus, and it needed to disappear.

  She pursed her lips. “I will when I’m ready.”

  What the hell? “Do it now, or I cut off his head.”

  She glanced around at the now churning sea, the darkening sky, the silent buildings, and mumbled something.

  He leaned in. “Didn’t hear you.”

  She exhaled, sparks shooting from her eyes. “I’m too cold.”

  The admission slammed him in the chest. Sometimes he forgot not everybody burned with fire inside. Damn it. He instantly shrugged out of the Klim jacket.

  “No.” She moved back and tumbled, falling on the snowmobile.

  “Yes.” He hauled her up by the arm and shoved the coat around her. “Put your arms in, or I’ll do it for you.”

  Her lower lip trembled. “I’m not weak.”

  He tilted his head. “Never said you were.”

  She cleared her throat, vulnerability darkening her eyes. “Right.”

  What kind of land mine had he just stepped in? He couldn’t handle an emotional female at the moment. “Being cold isn’t the same as being weak. Now put on the fucking coat.”

  She pushed her arms in, and he zipped her up, noting how the coat dropped nearly to her knees. She ducked her face inside the collar. “Petrichor,” she murmured.

  “Huh?” he asked.

  “The smell after the rain is petrichor,” she said. “Even in the bar at Titans of Fire, that’s how you smelled.” Her throaty voice seemed to kiss his skin, and he’d give every possession he owned to have her whispering something, anything, against his cock.

  He shifted his weight.

  Waves crashed into the shore, water spreading over ice. He grasped her arm. “What was your plan here?”

  She glanced down at the prone witch. “He was supposed to pick me up, get us to shelter, and then show me the three remaining mines on the island. The orange one right there is obviously defunct.” A fox yipped in the distance, and she slid her hands into the pockets. Then she frowned. “By the way, a hang glider?”

  He eyed the oncoming storm. “I own this abandoned mine as well as the functioning coal mine up beyond the bluff. My employees hang glide for fun, and when I saw you through binoculars, it was definitely the fastest way of getting down here.”

  She eyed the far peaks. “How did you get up there?”

  “Plane, helicopter, and parachute,” he said easily. From the island, snowmobiling was the only way to get to the coal mine, and that was fine with him. “About twenty years ago, I had a hangar built on the western end of the island. We need to get there and to the helicopter to get off this damn island.” A gust of wind blew in, and she stumbled toward him. Lightning zigged across the sky. He crossed to the downed witch and searched his pockets, getting the snowmobile key. Fire crackled along his arms. “I’ll wake this guy up and ask who offered him money to betray you.”

  She coughed. “No need. I already know.”

  Daire glanced over his shoulder. “Who?”

  Her lips pressed tightly together. Her very blue lips.

  He sighed and moved toward the vehicle. “We need shelter until the storm passes.” At which point, she’d finally tell him everything. “Give me the name, Cee Cee. I’m not going to ask why right now, but I want the name.” Getting information from the woman was as difficult as getting money from his cousin, Simone. Women.

  She glanced down at the barely breathing witch on the ground. Her shoulders moved forward just an inch. “Ivan Bychkov.”

  Daire jerked his head. Bychkov, the damn demon, owned half of the mines in Russia, including a couple that had formerly mined planekite. So he also owned the other two mines on Fryser. Interesting. Daire had traced the ownership through several dummy corporations that hadn’t led back to Bychkov. “The plot thickens,” Daire muttered. For now, he had to get the woman out of the storm. He sat on the snowmobile, his butt instantly freezing, and held out a hand. “We’ve been here before.” It wasn’t a motorcycle, but close enough.

  She faltered and then accepted his hand. The wind whipped her hair around, and her beautiful eyes teared.

  He stopped her before she could straddle the machine. One more question needed to be answered before he could move on and make a plan. “Was any of it real?” he asked.

  “Any of what?”

  The looks, the kiss, the fucking need. “Us.”

  She blinked snow from her eyes, her gaze down. “No.”

  He studied her, noting the vibrations in the air. “You’re a terrible liar.”

  She gasped, her gaze meeting his. “I most certainly am not.”

  Was she protesting his claim that she was a liar or a terrible liar? “Aye, you are.” He leaned in, not missing her quick intake of breath. “Admit it was real, or I’ll prove it.” Damn, he really wanted to prove her wrong.

  Even bruised, her chin was stubborn. She leaned toward him, bringing the scent of female and hyacinth. “There’s nothing to prove. I worked you, Enforcer. Deal with it.”

  He moved then, clamping his hands on her waist, and plunking her down, facing him. The handlebars bracketed her, as did his arms.

  She sucked in air and tried to lean back and away. The move scooted her core closer to his, and he shoved against her, his dick jumping at the vee in her legs. Her eyes widened. Desire all but rolled off her. Both hands pressed against his chest with impressive strength.

  “Admit it, Cee Cee.”

  “No.” She didn’t hide her gaze, but her fingers curled into his chest. Anger and denial danced in her eyes, but beneath them, there was something more. Curiosity? She held her breath, not moving.

  His gaze narrowed. She wanted to know as badly as he did if the other night had been about tequila and drugs or something else. Yet instead of saying so, she denied any feelings and waited for him to pounce. His biceps vibrated with the need to do exactly that and go deep. So he slid his hands down to her hips and tilted her, rubbing his shaft between her legs.

  She gasped, and her lips half lowered. Desire competed with the storm now beating around them.

  He leaned in so close his breath brushed her lips. “I don’t play games, sweetheart, and you’ve done nothing else since the first time I met you.”

  Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips.

  He fought a groan and pressed harder against her core. Even through his snow pants and hers, he could swear he felt her heat. The woman called to him on a level he couldn’t explain, but he’d give anything to feel her wrapped around him, crying out his name.

  “I’m not playing games,” she ground out, her voice so sexily hoarse he almost came in his pants right there.

  “You are.” He closed the inch between them and settled his lips a breath away from hers. There was an innocence to her game playing, a real curiosity, that gave him pause. She was a demon, no doubt closely protected by family her entire life, considering female demons were incredibly rare. Had she been with a man? The other night, the woman had known how to kiss. Really known how to kiss. Was the curiosity real? “Enough game playing.”

  Her eyelids fluttered shut. “Fine.” Quick as any witch, she shot her hands into his hair and yanked
his mouth against hers. Soft as petals, she kissed him, flicking her tongue along his lower lip.

  Desire, hot and desperate, roared through his blood. Flexing his hands, he tipped her back, taking her lips and stealing the kiss. His tongue swept inside her mouth, tasting woman and fine wine. The combination lit him on fire, and he had to force flames away from his skin. Something he hadn’t had to do since he’d been a randy teenager centuries ago.

  He pressed against her, allowing the beast inside him off the leash. Then she groaned. The sound reverberated up her throat, eased into his mouth, and set his nerve endings alive. Kissing her harder, he pressed his chest against hers, allowing the handlebars to carry their weight. With only his mouth working hers, he tilted her head to the side so he could go deeper. His hands went to her jacket, just as her cold nose brushed against his cheek.

  Freezing nose.

  He broke the kiss and leaned back, his entire body throbbing with the fierce need to strip her bare and bury himself inside her tight body. “You’re cold,” he rumbled, his voice rougher than any demon’s would ever be.

  Her eyelids fluttered open, and her pupils widened. Surprise and need glittered in the depths of her eyes. “Not cold. Very hot.”

  He grinned. Even now, his body on fire, her likability soothed him. Oh, he didn’t trust her and had no doubt they were on opposite sides of whatever was going on. Yet she had a sweetness to her he wanted to explore, consequences be damned. “Shelter, baby. We need shelter.”

  The atmosphere ticked. A change around them, a tension in the storm, had his shoulders stiffening. He leaned back, taking Cee Cee with him, and surveyed the area.

  She stilled, her head turning toward the orange building. “Something is there.”

  Aye. The storm had strengthened, swirling snow around, making visibility nil. But he could feel something. Or someone. Darkness through the white. Eyes. Animal eyes.

  Slowly, on the prowl, a series of polar bears stalked around both sides of the orange building. The beasts were well known in Norway, their kills a normal occurrence when anybody was stupid enough to set foot on Norwegian islands.