Unearthed

  “So demons what? Help people find their true desire? Awww, that’s so sweet it makes me want to give you a hug. Really, I’m this close to doing it.” She held up her hand, thumb and finger an inch apart. “But now why don’t you try telling the truth? You know, just this once. For kicks.”

  “Lying is for those who care what other people think.”

  “It’s just a hobby for you, then?”

  “Pretty much, yeah. Human minds are powerful. They are constantly nudging your behavior towards what you really want. All I do is nudge a little harder to speed things up.” He shrugged. “You’d never guess it, but demons are notoriously impatient beings.”

  “You’re immortal,” she said, pushing off the back of the couch and wandering the perimeter of the room. “What’s the hurry?”

  “You really don’t know much about us, do you?”

  She whipped her head around to look at him. “What does that mean?” Something in the way he’d said that held meaning, significance, but not in any way she could understand.

  “All the worlds and all their inhabitants have to stay in balance. But every part has its own rhythm and rate of change. When something gets too far away from its balance point, it has to be brought back to its origins. Then the process can continue without the entire thing collapsing. Humans change every moment of every day, in millions of different ways, for millions of different reasons. But your lives have a tipping point, an end, a time when the balance can’t be sustained. That’s when people get sappy, your body is given back to the earth, and everything starts over.”

  “But immortals don’t have that. So you, what, push things out of whack?”

  “Immortals do have that, puppet. Just not the same way you do.”

  “I don’t think your communication skills are all that hot actually, because I don’t understand what you’re talking about or why you told me that at all.”

  He chuckled. “Me neither. It might be time to start completely over. Try to get it right this time.”

  “You?”

  “Us.”

  “How would we—?” She flinched and started moving faster, distracting herself from that…whatever that was.

  The room was gorgeous—antiques and old styling disguising everything the tech-happy generation could ever want. The bed could easily fit four, but not Davyn and her. Shit. That wouldn’t work. Why hadn’t she thought of that before coming up here?

  If he’d wanted to do anything to her, he would’ve tried sooner. But just in case, she’d make sure to hang onto the saltshaker when the food arrived. The bigger problem was her, and whether or not she could sleep with him that close. What would happen if she had some lustful kind of dream and thought he was part of it? She’d been having them almost nightly since she met him, so being right next to him would only make things worse. Thoughts and images and—damn it—desires flew through her mind so fast she sat down to avoid falling over.

  When she realized she was on the bed, she stood and went to the couch on the other side of the suite, bumping into the coffee table to get to it. As if a two-foot tall coffee table provided any protection from a demon and her own imagination.

  “I truly appreciate your discomfort around me, puppet. Thank you. Makes the place feel more like home.”

  “I’m not— I’m going to sleep here.”

  “My room. My rules.” He shook his head. “First rule: You’re not sleeping on the couch.”

  “Second rule: I’m not laying down next to someone who got a little hard after a little kiss.”

  “That wasn’t a little kiss, and I got really hard after it. But you thought it was gross, so I don’t know what you’re worried about.”

  Seriously? “I’m twenty-three and you’re—what?—ancient. So let’s be mature adults and acknowledge that there might be a little attraction between us.”

  He grimaced. “Just a little, though.”

  “Lying is a sin, Davyn. But it doesn’t matter because any is way too much. So…I’m going to take the couch because while you might enjoy being tempted, I don’t.”

  He smiled and came towards her. “Yes, you do. You love it. Crave it, even.” He stepped over the coffee table and sat down on it, leaning towards her, and rested his hand on the couch right in between her legs. Instinctively she moved away, but that only widened the space between her thighs.

  “No idea what you’re talking about, demon.”

  “Wanting something you can’t have. Knowing I feel the same way. Two bodies, one act. Something totally forbidden and undeniably tempting.”

  Unable to move back any farther, she stared at his hand as he slid it towards her. Closer. Closer. Neither one of them able to look away. Oh shit, her mouth was actually watering. She swallowed, but that did nothing to slow her heartbeat.

  His fingertips barely touched the fabric of her pants, but she felt them all over her body. “Do you know why?” His voice was so deep, so masculine, so…intimate. “Temptation makes us feel alive, pushes our own limits of control. In your case, it’s also to punish yourself. To not allow yourself to experience something you long for. To want it so badly, and to know it will never be yours.”

  She wasn’t sure which one of them had moved, but the pressure of his fingers was more than it had been. Her breath was shallow—a reaction to his words and his touch, both exactly right.

  “So now I want to know why. What did you do that deserves all that anger? It’s not about Lamere—it’s about you. He deserves worse, right? Death. But death is quick. Once you catch him, provided I help, his existence will be over. But it won’t end. You’ll still be angry. Who will you be mad at then? Who provokes all that rage that makes you so fucking beautiful and full of fire?”

  “I need to go now.”

  “We’ve just started, puppet.” His gaze roamed around her body lazily, as if he knew he’d see more eventually so he didn’t want to rush and miss anything. “Tell me this: if you gave in, even just one time, with one thing, what would you really lose?”

  She didn’t get up, didn’t shove him away like any sane person would’ve done. She did the insane thing and sank down in the couch, rocking her hips, silently asking him for more. Almost begging.

  He groaned softly. “You’re good at this. Maybe too good.” He ran his thumb up the seam of her pants, pressing it against her, and then slid it back down to where she needed him. “Do you have any idea the things I would do to you if I could?” The heat of his fingers went right where it was most dangerous. He slid to his knees in front of her, his expression unbelievably hot. “I’ve been around for longer than you can even imagine, and there’s only one other thing I’ve ever wanted this much.”

  “What?”

  His smile was sad as he closed his eyes. “The only thing that’s holding me back from taking you right now.”

  She was afraid to speak because she didn’t want to know—she wanted to hate him. An impossibility. No one could feel this connected to someone they hated. Be willing to give up almost anything to lose the control they both held onto so tightly, and give in to whatever this was.

  Another impossibility. Because it went far beyond the physical. If it were just that, she would’ve put her hand over his, guided him so he learned exactly how she wanted him to touch her. Rip off their clothes and press her body to his so she could feel exactly how hot he burned. It was dangerous for a human to be with a demon, but she wasn’t fully human. Shit, she faced death every day, so that’s not what stopped her.

  Seeing him between her legs, feeling him explore her with only his finger, both of them fully clothed, but she still couldn’t stop her back from arching and the moan from escaping.

  “Your temperature is rising,” he said softly, opening his eyes. “I hate it when you do that. Makes me—Fuck it.” His hands slid under her ass and he lifted her, setting her on his hips and wrapping her legs around him. She pressed into his erection as he carried her to the bed.

  “Puppet, I want to fuck you so badly, I
might burst into flames at any moment.” With that, he pried her legs off him and tossed her onto the bed. “But I don’t like being used for someone’s self-flagellation unless I’m holding an actual flogger.”

  She was on her back, knees bent, legs spread, when she got it. Temptation. “You bastard! You were totally messing with me! This whole time you were just teasing me to see if I would give in!”

  “That’s one way of looking at it, I guess.”

  “You asshole.”

  “I didn’t say it was the right way of looking at it.” His laugh sounded forced as he adjusted his cock. “It’s a rare thing for a demon to be this tempted, puppet. You should feel honored to be the source of it.”

  “Oh yeah, this is a really proud moment for me.” She jumped off the bed, straightening her clothes.

  He shrugged. “I know exactly what I am and why I’m tempted. Can you say the same?”

  She could have, but whatever she said would’ve been a lie, because she didn’t know. It sure wasn’t logical. Because yes, she’d have given in, despite knowing it was illegal for him and a really bad idea for her. Was she punishing herself? Maybe. If she really thought about it, there wasn’t a single thing in her life that couldn’t be considered punishment in one way or another. So instead of saying anything, she did what she always did when her emotions got too high—she ran. Only this time, there was a demon blocking her way.

  “We had a deal,” he said.

  “I never agreed.”

  “I heard you say yes at least two separate times.”

  “Not about that!”

  “A deal’s a deal. And no, you can’t sleep on the couch.”

  “I’m not go—”

  He leaned in close to her, holding her gaze. “You can’t sleep on the chair because, unlike the bedding, the upholstery has fire retardant on it. Now, fire retardant doesn’t always work if I have a big, bad, scary dream, but it is a shitload better than nothing at all. If I set fire to the sheets, they’ll set fire to the room, then the hotel and everyone in it, including you.”

  “If I don’t feel threatened, I won’t have scary dreams,” he mocked. “And if I don’t sleep on the bed, I won’t burn this entire building down. So tell me which way you’re leaning, puppet. Do you want to cuddle or help me set fire to the place?”

  Twelve

  There were four things Davyn would never have enough of—patience, time topside, sleep, and trust. Make that five things, but he didn’t want to think about sex right now. Not with the hunter twenty feet away…and horizontal. She’d taken off her boots and then stared at the ceiling while he stripped down. She was no fun at all.

  It had taken a long time for her to fall asleep, which meant he didn’t get a lot of sleep either. But eventually she’d given in and closed her eyes, her breath evening out. Because she was human, and they were weak. Mostly. She tossed and turned—fighting even while she slept. The crying bothered him a little, and that bothered him even more. It wasn’t as if crying, screaming, or begging were anything new to him.

  He’d learned something last night. Physically she was no threat to him. Her danger was that she could withstand his heat, his fire, and it seemed to only ignite her own, whether she was aware of it or not.

  Davyn knew better, of course. Bad, bad things would happen if they gave into each other. But damn, did he want to. Unfortunately, his little puppet was a temptation the likes of which he’d never known before, and the safest thing to do was avoid being near her for any longer than absolutely necessary. He couldn’t handle another night like last.

  “Wakey, wakey, puppet. Time to get your cute little ass out of bed.” As soon as he kicked the mattress, her cute little ass was up and in a fighting stance. “I need to eat. There’s a place down the street that poaches eggs in maple syrup. Seriously. Sounds disgusting, but tastes better than sex.” Why’d he bring up sex? “Since I’m now going to be completely turned on thinking about that while we eat, it’ll be my treat. But nothing comes for free. You still owe me for the story you didn’t tell me last night.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” she said, relaxing and going into the bathroom. “What do you want to know?”

  “How you died.” His voice was deep, borderline growling, and loud enough for her to hear from the other room. Aside from the beings he’d watched die firsthand—by his hand—he’d never actually thought about how it happened to anyone else. Since he dealt in sin and death that seemed kind of a shame. “Not when you got away from Lamere—when you became a seer.”

  “Why would you want to know that?”

  “Because I do.” He ran his hand over his abs. “Hearing about death always helps my digestion.”

  “Uh huh. Okay. I’ll tell you. But in exchange I get food—”

  “I already told you I would give you food.”

  She poked her head out the bathroom door. “I’m not done. Food and the reason why you want to hear this stuff.”

  He paused, mostly because he wasn’t sure.

  “You’ll like the story of how I died, demon. It’ll probably provide you with hours of laughter. Deal?”

  His grin sparked at the word. “Deal.”

  Her eyes widened. “Damn, I forgot what that word does to you. I feel like I just made a deal with the—”

  “Don’t say it!” He stopped her with a raised hand. “When you’re around me don’t say ‘deal’ and his name in the same sentence. Or even in adjacent sentences. If you do, we’re going to have issues.” Bad issues. Rhyse had known what would happen but said it anyway, deliberately. Just to save the dat vitae and stop the witches from making more of her kind. Enough to start a cascade of mayhem. Maybe even enough to disrupt the power of the Treaty. And if that went...

  “What kind of issues?” she asked.

  “When someone says they want to deal with him, I’m required to set up the meet.” Whether Davyn wanted to or not. “Nothing can stop it from happening—nobody, no rules, no magic, nothing. The only thing I get to choose is the delivery method.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, if I don’t hate the person, I might go down with them, make it a little easier.” Absorb a little bit of the pain they’d otherwise feel like he’d done for Rhyse. “But in your case, I’d probably just open the gates and wave goodbye.” Lying was for those who cared what the other person thought about them. He let out a long breath. “Just don’t say it, okay? Not with his name. It’s not safe.”

  For either of them.

  The hunter stayed close to him in the elevator and on the street. The natural heat he gave off probably made her more comfortable, while her proximity made him a lot less. But since she always wanted to argue, at least she could do it in a whisper.

  “You know,” she said, “just because Lamere is a francophone doesn’t mean he was born in Montreal or even in Quebec, for that matter.”

  “True.”

  “I mean there are a ton of French-speaking areas in Canada.”

  “Also true.”

  “And who knows where he was turned?”

  “No one.”

  “Right. So Thom could’ve been lying and the place he told you about is probably owned by an eighty-year-old human woman. So I spent all my money and had a night from hell all for nothing.”

  “You should probably find out what hell’s actually like before you compare your nights to it.”

  “I flew three thousand miles and impoverished myself just because you can’t tell a real story from a made-up one. Thom and Lamere are probably off somewhere laughing at you right now.”

  “Wow, you’re right. I’m so glad you’re here with me, puppet. Imagine how stupid I’d feel if I actually believed the thoughts in Lamere’s mind the last time I saw him. Really, I can’t thank you enough.” He smiled insincerely as he fanned his face with his hand. “Am I blushing? I feel like I’m blushing.” Then he dropped it and growled, “Oh no, wait. I’m a fucking demon! The kind of bastard who can see into any mind I wa
nt to. I didn’t need to believe his story, puppet. I saw it.” He pointed to an apartment building they passed, the stairs to the second floor on the outside of the building. Typical for Montreal, totally different than most other big cities. “Snow, stairs, apartment. It was all there. It just took me a little while to put together.”

  “You got past Lamere’s shield? How is that possible?”

  “Old vamps can feel us when we get inside them, but can’t stop us. They can, however, screw us by pushing unconnected thoughts, making it harder for us to find anything useful. Of course, Lamere didn’t do that because he was so distracted by the amusing little human who thinks she belongs with the big boys.”

  “The big boys? Huh. I thought you’d be one of those men who claim size doesn’t matter.”

  “Oh, size matters, puppet. But I am one of those men who think anything more than a handful is just a waste. That said, I have big hands. What are you, a C-cup?

  She sighed. “Let’s focus on Lamere for now. What did you see?”

  “Not enough.” Davyn couldn’t get into a whole section of the bastard’s mind. Considering how impossible that was, his theory of Lamere using some powerful magical backup made perfect sense—as perfect as it could be when dealing with the mind of a sociopathic, borderline-immortal killing machine. “Between you and me, he’s not a nice guy, and his head isn’t a place I suggest visiting without hand sanitizer. But while you were so fantastically distracting, I got a decent peek. He lived in Montreal in his younger years, a place in Old Town that he still owns, and had planned on coming back soon. The info Otis coughed up matched perfectly.”

  “If you know where his place is, why aren’t we already there?”

  “Because Ms. Slow Poke wanted to sleep in.” Also, because she looked gorgeous while she slept, and he’d wanted to look at her a bit longer. There was no rush, though. No matter how old or powerful, Lamere couldn’t travel for about nine more hours.

  “I’m awake now. Did you sleep at all?”

  “I don’t need a lot. What I need a lot of is food.” He pushed open the door to the restaurant. “So move your ass, Pokey.”