The
festivities distracted him from thoughts of the demon and he managed to quell
his mark, so the burning became little more than a dull ache.
Until
his eyes settled on a female across the square from him, sitting on a stone
ledge that was at least six feet high and formed a pathway that ended in steps
that led down into the square to the right of her.
Not
his target.
Something
else.
He
curled his lip at the sight of her, dressed in a rather revealing fashion of a
short black corset and even shorter skirt. She swayed as she laughed, swinging
a mug in her left hand and spilling some of the contents onto a group of males
below her. They all stared up at her, enraptured. Well, almost all of them did.
Judging by the angle of some of their heads, they were busy looking up her
ridiculously small skirt.
Her
wide smile flashed short fangs but it was the black horns that protruded from
her long onyx hair and her gender that gave her away.
A
demon, from the Devil’s service since that fallen angel had eradicated all
females from the ranks of the species who had mutinied against him, those from
the numbered kingdoms.
He
had never seen a demoness.
He
arched an eyebrow as he studied the crowd and noted that the demons from the
numbered kingdoms kept their distance from her as diligently as they kept it
from him. They were wary of her.
Why?
He
stepped into the square.
Her
laughter died on painted red lips and her face instantly sobered, her eyes
leaping straight to him. They narrowed. The males below her all turned his way.
Not demons. They were a mixture of fae and shifters if their appearances were
anything to go by.
The
demoness calmly set her tankard down on the stone ledge beside her, hopped off
it and landed on her feet. The males stepped aside and she stalked towards him,
the crowd parting for her and revealing her to him. She didn’t take her eyes
off him, not even to acknowledge the males who wolf-whistled or called out lewd
things to her.
Those
males’ eyes followed her as she sashayed, swinging her curvy hips.
Temptress.
Her
ways wouldn’t work on him though.
He
stood his ground as she approached and resisted the urge to call his blade.
Covert. Causing a scene in the fae town might cause his target to bolt if she
was near or heard about the fight. As much as he wanted to cut the demoness
down, he had to remain calm and in control.
She
stopped right in front of him, tipped her head up and flashed him a smile that
made her ethereally blue eyes shine brightly amidst the sea of black she had
daubed around them.
“What’s
an angel doing here?” she said in English and looked him up and down.
Her
smile grew a little wider when his right hand twitched at his side, eager to
call his blade, a reaction he hadn’t been able to hide.
She
could see through him.
He
had never met a demon who could tell he was an angel before. His wings were
hidden, his clothing of mortal fashion, but she knew what he was.
He
had a flash of her looking right at him the moment he had entered the square.
Entered
the vicinity of her senses.
She
had felt him.
“What
I am doing here is none of your business.” He schooled his features, hiding his
curiosity from her and the slow trickle of other emotions. Not fear. He did not
fear her. “I should ask you the same thing, Demon.”
“Ah,
but I asked first.” She twirled the gold-to-crimson streak down the right side
of her hair around her slender fingers and shrugged her bare shoulders. He
refused to look at them. He would not be tempted. Her smile widened. “So… what
are you doing here?”
Irritating
and persistent, two things guaranteed to make him strongly consider ending her.
He never had liked being questioned.
She
stepped a little closer, tilted her chin up to keep her blue eyes locked on
his, and he barely resisted the urge to shove her away. Her tongue poked out
and she caressed the tip across her red lips as she assessed him again, slower
this time, those dazzling eyes lingering on places they shouldn’t. His right
hand twitched again. Her smile returned.
“Not
the talking type?” she murmured and sidled closer, until her darkness wrapped
around him, making his skin crawl, and he was on the verge of snapping. She
canted her head, twisted that coloured length of silken hair around her index
finger again, and dared to run another appraising glance over him. “You are a
little tempting… and I would probably bang you… but you’re just oozing goodness
and I might vomit.”
He
backed away a step and scowled at her. Infuriating demoness.
“I
would never touch you,” he bit out and her smile only widened, as if he had
flirted right back at her rather than turned her down.
She
sighed dramatically. Twirled that infernal stripe in her hair again, drawing
his eyes to her hands and her black claws. They jumped from there to her horns.
“Like
what you see?” she whispered huskily. “They would feel fucking amazing rubbed
against that.”
She
ghosted a finger up and down in front of him, gesturing to his body.
“Although,
I bet that would also feel fucking amazing under my hands.” She wriggled her
fingers and edged them towards him.
He
flashed his teeth at her and backed off another step. “Dare… demoness… and I
will cleave your head from your body before your hands could even reach me.”
She
shrugged again. “Your loss. I’m amazing in the sack.”
What
was with this female? Was she trying to rile him?
He
realised that she was doing a damn fine job of it. He was playing right into
her hands. He set his jaw and glared down at her, and her smile went a little
wider.
“That’s
more like it. Give me the evil eye. For a moment back there, when I was with my
guys, I had an inkling you were trying to look up my skirt or something, and it
was a little icky so I thought I would see to it you got your dick on straight
and remembered your position… the one that is not under me.” She folded her
arms across her chest, causing her breasts to squeeze together in her short
black leather corset, and cocked her right hip. Crimson tipped black swirls
snaked over that hip, emerging from beneath her pleated skirt to dance across
her toned stomach, and his eyes caught on them, followed them down. They
covered her entire right leg, visible beneath her sheer black stockings. She
huffed and threw her hands up in the air. “And he’s staring again. Like what
you see? Want a picture for your spank bank?”
Dear
lord, what was wrong with him?
He
took another step back, fixed his eyes firmly on her face and shoved any
curiosity about her tattoo away. His right hand twitched again. She noticed it.
“You
want to go at it? You’re gonna have to pick what it’s going to be though…
fighting or fucking?”
“Neither,”
he bit out and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets to stop him from calling
his blade. “Leave my sight, Demon.”
“I
was here first. You leave mine.” She turned and waved a hand across the air.
“This whole town is mine… so get out. Shoo.”
She
turned back towards him, an expectant look on her face.
“I
said shoo.”
He
shook his head. “I said no.”
She
canted her head again, and when she spoke, the venom and other disturbing thing
that had been in her voice was gone, leaving it sober, and laced with
curiosity. “Why are you here?”
“It
is none of your business.” He went to turn away from her. She reached for him
and he whirled on her, his right hand rising to slap her one away, and she
staggered back, blinking hard. It seemed the powerful little demoness wasn’t as
fearless as she pretended to be. He narrowed his eyes on her. “Why are you here?”
She
backed off a step and scowled at him. “I’ve had enough of angels looking at me
like that over the past two days… as if they want to nail my entrails on their
wall like art… one far stronger than you… so do not think for a second that you
can intimidate me.”
But
he had.
He
did.
He
intimidated her and she had done a good job of concealing it, but then her mask
had slipped and she had revealed her fear to him.
He
frowned at what she had said.
An
angel far stronger than him.
The
Devil?
She
preened her small black horns with trembling fingers, stroking them from the
root behind the pointed tips of her ears to the sharp ends near her lobes, and
her obvious attempt to calm herself failed. Her face blackened.
She
swept her right hand through the air between them and glared at him, her eyes
growing black and pupils becoming elliptical and beginning to burn gold.
“I
don’t give a flying fuck what business you have here but you better stay out of
my way.” She flashed vicious fangs at him, turned on her heel and stormed away.
He
watched her go, cocked his head to his right as he tried to make sense of her.
He had felt her darkness, she oozed it the same way as he apparently oozed
goodness, and yes, it made him want to vomit too, but there was something
different about her.
Something
off.
She
sauntered through the crowd, ridiculously tiny pleated black skirt threatening
to flash her underwear as it swayed side to side and her long fall of black
hair brushing across her lower back and shoulders.
He
thought about turning away and searching for his target elsewhere, but ended up
skirting the packed square, slowly moving towards the side of it where the
demoness had hopped back up onto the wall and was talking with her group of
slavering males again.
He
pushed her out of his mind, but for some damn reason, his gaze kept drifting
back to her and his mind would follow it, replaying their conversation. She had
been flirting with him. As much as that disturbed him, it confused him too. He
idly rubbed the cross on his right inside wrist as he studied her, putting her
subtle nuances to memory while his mind traversed back over everything she had
done. She feared him, but she was curious about him too. Why?
He
had never met a demon who had openly approached him before, seeking him out.
She hadn’t known he wouldn’t strike her down, so what had possessed her to come
to him and provoke him?
She
was either braver than he believed or foolish.
He
edged closer to her and leaned his back against the stone wall of the building
joined to the steps that led up to the raised pathway where she sat, swinging
her legs and almost taking out the eyes of several of her suitors with the
spiked heels of her black leather knee-high boots. One of the males offered
another pewter mug to her, and she took it with a wide smile and winked at him.
The wolf shifter practically panted in response, and he was surprised the male
didn’t howl in victory, sure he would be the one to bed the female.
Dear
lord, she would probably bed them all at once if she had her way.
She
seemed a virile, wicked little creature. Wicked enough to offer her body to an
angel.
He
reminded himself that she had merely been teasing him, but it didn’t stop a
disturbing ache from starting inside him, a dangerous sort of hunger that he
fought to suppress, putting it down to her teasing ways and her irritating him
until his guard had dropped, allowing that teasing to affect him.
He
jammed his right hand back into the pocket of his black jeans and ran his left
over his unruly blond hair, brushing the finger-length strands back from his
face. It was getting too long, but he had been too caught up in his hunt to
find the time to have it trimmed.
The
demoness flicked a glance his way over her left shoulder, one that she had no
doubt meant to be covert but had been blatantly obvious. She toyed with her
silvery tankard and went back to flirting with her brood of males.
He
focused on her, centred himself and purged all emotion as he allowed calm to
sweep into his mind and his soul, emptying them both. When he had found his
balance in amidst the silence, he called on his other gift, the one that was rare
among angels now.
The
ability to read intentions.
It
was slow to come as always, steadily building inside him as he focused on the
target he wanted to read. The demoness.
He
wanted to see if she had come to this place to merely enjoy the festivities or
whether she had a different agenda.
His
gift triggered.
Nothing.
He
frowned, put it down to distance, and moved a few steps closer. He focused on
her again, called on his gift and let it wash through him.
Again,
nothing.
His
frown grew deeper, and he tried again. And again. Every time, he couldn’t pick
up anything from her, but he could read the males at her feet like open books.
They were thinking about being the one who would take her back home, or to a
nearby room or alley.
One
seemed rather intent on seeing all of her tattoo, and that desire drew his gaze
back to her legs. He couldn’t see her right one from this angle, with her
slightly in front of him on the raised stone platform beyond the steps to his
right, but he could catch the red tips of the swirls that arced over her right
hip to the small of her back.
The
black cross on his wrist burned. He idly rubbed his thumb over it, trying to
soothe the mark. He knew there was a demon present, it didn’t have to keep
reminding him. He wasn’t here to hunt her though. He was here on a mission.
A
mission he was ignoring while he tried to figure out a demon of all creatures.
He
pushed away from the wall and turned to leave.
“Can
you do me a little favour?” The demoness’s voice curled above the crowd, soft
and gentle, a flirtatious edge to her English. “I need some info.”
That
arrested his steps and he frowned as he listened hard, struggling to hear her
over the noise of the chatter of those in the busy square and the music. What
was she up to?
He turned
his head slightly towards his right, enough that he could see her out of the
corner of his eye.
“Have
you seen a female in town… a young woman,” she said.
His
blood dropped a degree.
She
couldn’t be.
“She’s
a friend. Around five-seven, with short brown hair and matching brown eyes.
I’ve heard she runs with a coven… one called Cruyssen, I think.”
He
spat out a curse, his only vice.
Cruyssen.
He
had the sinking feeling that his mission had just become a lot more complicated
at the critical moment, and that he knew the reason the demoness was in town.
She
was after the half-breed too.
