Heat and need spiralled through her. She wanted him, needed him, here, now. She opened beneath his kiss, tongues twining, teeth scraping. With one hand, he slammed the bedroom door shut, then pressed her back against it, his mouth hungry on hers. He bulged against his jeans as she fumbled with the zipper, freeing him, closing her hand around his hot skin. Desire scoured her, leaving her panting.
One hand slid under her buttocks, his other hand curving under the splint that guarded her injured knee. With a moan, she let her head fall back against the door, and she gave herself over to him, to the promise that his tightly corded muscles could hold her there.
He kissed her, open-mouthed, deep. Sensation spiked, her hips rocking in time with his, her moans and cries swallowed by his kiss. He made a raw sound: hard-edged pleasure and animal lust. She unravelled, her body clenched tight around him. Ecstasy rode her senses, blurring her thoughts, her awareness.
Finally, panting, he dropped his head, nuzzling the curve of her neck, still holding her up against the door. She felt weightless, boneless. Wonderfully alive. Then he shifted her so she was cradled in his arms and he carried her to her bed. There, he stripped off her clothes and kissed her - her neck, her belly, her breasts - taking his time, teasing her. He took her again, driving them both over the edge.
“Sleep,” he whispered, cradling her in his arms. “Sleep, love.”
And she did, her lids drifting shut, her body replete.
When she woke, he was gone.
Daemon was sanding the patch he’d put on the wall in the dining room when he heard Jen behind him. Schooling his features, he sent her a welcoming smile and felt a shimmer of the continuum, a hint of magic. Not sorcerer, not demon, but maybe she was a blighted seed, a human who had a magical progenitor somewhere in her past. Such mortals usually tapped their limited power to become psychics or healers or energy workers. But Jen was none of those. He was certain she had no clue that magic, both light and dark, existed at the edges of her world, no idea that there really were monsters in the closet. She was an accountant.
An incredibly beautiful, sexy accountant that he was willing to break all his self-imposed rules for.
“Hey,” she said, sending him a glorious smile. No reservations. No regrets. Not his Jen. “Break time. I’ll make lunch.”
His Jen. What the hell was he thinking? That they’d set up house here in Freetown? Tend the garden? Walk in the park? And when he never got sick, never aged? When the trinity got restless and demanded release? What then? He knew how quickly love could shrivel in the face of the truth.
“Turkey sandwiches?” he asked, forcing a light tone.
She cocked her head to the side and studied him, a faint frown marking her brow, and he knew she sensed his tension. She saw too much, read him too well. It was like they’d known each other forever, rather than a few short weeks.
“Turkey it is. With tomatoes. And no sprouts,” she said. “Give me five minutes.”
He headed to his car and retrieved a package from the trunk. He left it in the front hallway and met her in the kitchen. “I, uh, bought you something.”
She shot him a look of surprise. “What you did with my grandmother’s wallpaper was more than enough. I don’t want you to ... that is ... I just . . .”
Her voice trailed away, and he almost laughed, realizing that she was worried about him spending his money on her. If she only knew. Finances were not an issue for him. Looking down at her upturned face, at the sweet spray of freckles and her sparkling eyes, he had the crazy urge to tell all, to share with her the knowledge of what he was. Yeah, like that was a plan. She was a mortal woman. She would live and die. He had no business dreaming about a life with her, buying her gifts. He hadn’t bought a gift for a woman in almost 200 years.
He led her into the hallway and gestured at the box.
She inhaled sharply and held her breath. “You bought me a motion-detector home alarm system?”
“With infra-red sensors.”
“Why?”
Because the hybrids he’d taken down were only scouts. Something more powerful was out there. A killer. He needed to do everything he could to ensure Jen was safe, that the killer stalking the shadows could not harm her.
Not her. Not Jen. His Jen.
Four
Jen woke to afternoon sunlight peeking through the crack between her curtains. After lunch, Daemon had made love to her for hours, sweet and slow, taking his time, exploring every inch of her. But she was alone now and pain was tearing her in two. She breathed through the agony that swelled and ebbed. Bright shards spun through her, twisting her into a tight knot, doubling her over.
She had no idea how long she lay there, but when she came to herself, it was dark. Night had come. All around her, the air shimmered. Sparking filaments of light danced off her skin. Inside her, power uncoiled, stretched and laughed in delight. Her time had come. The sorcerer magic that should have blossomed at puberty had burgeoned at last.
Reaching down, she freed the Velcro straps of her splint and pulled it from her leg. The pain in her knee was gone. She rolled from the bed and half skipped to the bathroom for a quick shower, then dressed and crossed to the window. Pulling back the curtain, she noticed that Daemon’s car was gone. A flicker of disappointment touched her. She made her way downstairs and found a note in the kitchen.
Went to town to pick up dinner. Didn’t want to disturb you. Back soon.
-D.
Smiling, she set the note back on the table, then froze, her head jerking up, her every sense on high alert. Tension coiled through her. There was something out there. Something dark. She could feel the power, the oily slide of demon magic tainting the air, making the continuum shiver and twitch.