Shadow's Curse Page 13

  Perhaps the Council was underestimating her. Ryan Mulcahy earned his lethal reputation one sharp edge at a time. Natasha? Well, too many on the Council viewed women as malleable. Strange, considering the most vicious predators he ran across tended to be female.

  In fact, if Thaddeus wasn’t careful, he would step that one inch too far, and Natasha would leave him in pieces. But Rio, now there was an interesting relationship. Darius swore he detected some true depth of feeling in that conversation. It was telling that her first move was to check on the human situation before the one sitting in her front yard. However, maybe not so unexpected after all, considering her years-long position as the chief marketing officer for Taliesin. Would she now find Mulcahy’s CEO shoes a tight fit?

  She stopped in front of the fire and the minor question disappeared like smoke. Those slim shoulders hunched, and she dragged a hand through her white-blonde curtain of hair, leaving it a tumbled mess—one his fingers itched to dive into. She turned her head, the firelight lining her profile with dancing shadows. Unexpected lust spiraled through him, his body hardening.

  Her lips held a soft curl. “Are you going to watch me all night?”

  He blinked as her question sank in. Releasing his hold on the concealing shadows, he faced her. “How long?”

  Those violet blue eyes deepened into an inky mystery as they traveled over his loose, low-slung pants and bare chest. He reacted to the caress of her gaze as if it was a physical touch. His blood ran hot and thick, need coming up on point. When their stares finally locked, he found an answering desire flickering in her depths. Her pink tongue swept out over her bottom lip. A nervous tic or deliberate provocation? Did it really matter?

  “Before I dialed Rio.” Her voice was a husky rasp.

  It took his brain a second to catch up. He gave himself a metaphoric head slap. Get your head in the game, ass! He prowled closer until he stood inches away.

  She held her position, her face in profile above her shoulders, watching him from under those thick, dark lashes. Her unique fragrance of night-blooming jasmine, laced with feminine heat, drifted to him.

  Keeping his hands at his side, he dipped his head and drew the scent deep into his lungs. His mark lay like a faint bruise against her alabaster skin, a temptation he choose not to ignore. He pressed the lightest of kisses to it, inordinately pleased with the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Lifting his head, he held her bemused gaze. “You didn’t give him my name.”

  Her throat worked as she swallowed. “Rumors fly faster than light. He’ll find you out soon enough.”

  “Perhaps.” He searched her face, taking in the light rose under her cheeks, the widening of her eyes, and the small pants as she fought for air. He wanted to capture those lips and plunder until she could only breathe what he shared. The overly possessive urge made him straighten with a jerk and step back. The attraction between them was…uncomfortable.

  Under his skin, his demon hissed and clawed, furious at what the man was denying them both. Darius shook his head sharply. No, fucking this woman would only complicate an already difficult situation. Needing to regain control, he struck out, using the tools at his disposal. “Do you think seducing me will keep you safe?”

  She stiffened then deliberately turned fully toward him with haughty grace. Her rising signs of desire disappeared under a cold, mocking mask, her eyes flashing as her lips curled in contempt. “May I remind you that you invaded my bedroom, Mr. Abazi.” Ice dripped from her words. “Is that normal for one of the Order? Do you normally whore yourself out for the Council?”

  Her vicious implication shredded his tenuous control. Before he could rethink the wisdom of his actions, plastered her curvy body against his front. Those red tipped nails bit against the skin of his chest, his erection cradled against her stomach, while his hand tangled in the platinum mass as he held her captive. “No more than you whoring yourself for your precious houses,” he growled, before taking her mouth with a barely leashed savagery.

  No gentleness, only pure lust and need swirling in a savage storm. He ravaged with punishing intent, small bites and rapacious tongue, unwilling to give her room to escape. She met him with equal heat and passion. Hunger began to edge out his fury, allowing him to feel the sting of her nails as they raked against his chest. He loosened his grip, letting her yank out of his hold.

  He looked down, unsurprised to find bloody gouges scoring his skin. His animalistic side took satisfaction in the sight. He lifted his head in time to catch the tail end of her wiping the back of her hand over her swollen mouth.

  The wavering image of her demon hovered around her like a barely remembered dream. She faced him, her hands fisted at her side, chest heaving. “Touch me again, Abazi, and I’ll shred your balls into confetti.”

  He smiled and crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring his still-seeping wounds. “Challenging me isn’t in your best interests, darling, but you’re welcome to try.”

  Those lips thinned and a feral hiss was all that escaped.

  His smile widened. Rendering her speechless was quite rewarding, but it didn’t last long.

  Regrettably, she pulled herself together much faster than he liked, the revealing mirage of her demon whisking away, leaving the controlled corporate maven behind. “I have no intention of challenging you.”

  He raised an unbelieving eyebrow. “What intentions do you harbor?”

  She studied him, her thoughts well shielded. “I intend to uncover who’s setting me up, regardless of who’s pulling the strings.”

  “And then?”

  Her smile was all predator. “Then I’ll remind them of what happens to those who go against me.”

  “Even if it brings you and yours unwanted attention?”

  Her chin lifted. “It’s never smart to rattle the cage of a beast you can’t handle. Something someone’s forgotten.”

  He titled his head in wry acknowledgement.

  She strolled to the door and pulled it open. “Get out.” A tremor ran through the low words. Fury or fear, he wasn’t sure.

  Knowing if he pushed her any further, one or both of them would pay for it—perhaps in flesh and blood—he strolled to the door, only to stop in front of her. He raised a finger and drew it down her pale jaw, impressed when she didn’t visibly react. “You asked Rio a question. Would you like an answer?”

  She remained stubbornly mute.

  “You are being hunted, Natasha.” He caught the flicker of unease she tried to hide. “But the Order doesn’t have your scent.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  A couple of hours later, Natasha finished the last details on a report for Taliesin. After kicking Darius’s arrogant ass out of her room, sleep was impossible. However, it did allow her to catch up on business and tug on a few more investigative lines. It was surprising how a call from her in the wee hours of morning could garner such interesting information. Unfortunately, she couldn’t act on it until a more reasonable time.

  A blinding shaft of agony seared across her consciousness, causing her to hiss in pain, even as she jerked to her feet. Before the warnings of her breached wards could fade, a horrendous crash sounded from downstairs. She was moving before her vision cleared of the annoying little white spots. Yanking open her door, she darted into the hall, only to come to an abrupt halt as she slammed into something solid and warm wrapped in temptation and spice.

  Darius.

  Hands gripped her arms to steady her. “What the hell is going on?”

  Ripping free of his hold, she spun toward the stairs. “Someone has decided to pay me a visit.”

  Staying on her heels, Darius followed her down the stairs. “Haven’t they heard of knocking?”

  “Obviously not,” she snapped, rushing over the hardwood floor, her attention riveted on her living room.

  The huge paned window now resembled a gaping maw with jagged teeth. Misty rain and cool winds whipped the heavy curtains back. Moonlight glinted off the glass shards now decorating her floor
. Shadows, opaque and menacing, blanketed the room. Something waited in the inky darkness. Waited and watched, even as her wards continued to shriek their warnings inside her skull.

  Curling her hand into a fist, she cut her palm with one sharp nail, allowing a single drop of blood to fall to the floor. The minute it touched the ground, silence rushed in and her magic swept out, slicing through the shadows. When it touched what waited, the magical reverberation raised more than the hair on her arms. Behind her, Darius’s low, muttered curse confirmed her fears. Very old, very scary demon magic.

  A pained bellow shook the room, even as the darkness peeled back revealing what waited. And it was not anything she had expected.

  Demon.

  Not just any demon, either. This one was different. His heavy chest was bare, tattered jeans covered muscled legs, and from his temples, two solid, twisted horns rose. No exotic meld of human and demon, instead this was the monster of human nightmares.

  A demon’s nature never translated well in the mortal realm. This one proved to be no exception. His features were an unholy mix of human and demon, something that should never exist on this plane. Claws existed where hands should be, and they were curling and uncurling at his side.

  “A Bound?” Danger and pity swam under Darius’s question.

  Maybe, but such a thing was rarely done. “Only one way to find out.” She didn’t dare take her attention away from the one looming in front of her. Eyes of solid black, set against crimson where white should be, fixed on her. Something flickered deep inside the ebony wells, even as lips pulled back from serrated teeth and a hair-raising snarl rebounded through the room.

  Undaunted, she moved forward until she stood just inside the room. “You shouldn’t be here, pet.”

  “Brought you a gift.” The voice was surprisingly normal, considering its source.

  “Is that so?” This close she could feel the magic swimming around her late-night visitor like an electrical storm, preparing to strike. A faint nudge at her back made her step to the side, allowing Darius to move up beside her and snag the demon’s attention.

  “Considering your rude entrance, it better be a damn good gift.” The fact that Darius could stand there in nothing more than drawstring pants and still look formidable was quite impressive.

  She used his distraction to move a little more to the left, putting space between her and Darius while maneuvering the demon between them. “What gift?” she asked, allowing Darius to gain a few more feet.

  Instead of answering, the demon took a step backward.

  At his feet, a crumpled form lay like a broken doll. A woman. A dead woman. Her head turned toward Natasha and Darius, her eyes wide and glassy under the tangle of dark hair. More disturbing was the bloody furrows carved into the pale skin of her arms and torso, as if she tried to ward off the claws that ripped her apart. A torn hole remained where her heart once sat. The carnage-covered remains of an oversized T-shirt and boxer shorts indicated the poor child must have been caught in bed.

  As she studied the girl and recognition crowded in, Natasha’s breath escaped in a furious hiss. Dull, almost invisible in death, pale red rings encircled her irises. They marked her as one of Natasha’s. The delicate features triggered a name. Cleo James, Kevin Sullivan’s lover.

  Fury surged, bringing a vindictive urge to hurt the one who would brutalize someone under her protection. Red hazed her vision, her nails lengthened, and her nature rose in a shockingly feral wave, wiping out the woman and leaving only the beast behind.

  Ignoring Darius’s warning shout, she lunged.

  While watching Natasha tear a demon to shreds was on his to-do list, Darius didn’t expect it to happen like this. The little queen’s fury roused her demon, which now surrounded her like a half-developed image. Her unexpected lunge caught their late-night visitor off balance, but that advantage wouldn’t last long.

  Even now, the creature swung out with a fist almost the size of Natasha’s head. She ducked, raking her claws across his stomach. She continued to carve her way around to his spine as he spun to escape her reach. He kicked out, forcing Natasha to step back or take the hit in her stomach. Finally free from her claws, he picked up a couch as if it was a baseball bat and, with a roar, brought it around in a vicious swing.

  Darius surged forward, his own beast straining against his leash in anticipation. He wrapped an arm around Natasha’s waist, tucked her against his front, and turned so the couch slammed into his back. The force of the blow knocked him forward and shattered the couch. He landed on all fours, careful to keep his body between Natasha and the demon. Pain sang through his spine and shoulders, but it wasn’t enough to quench the savage satisfaction of his beast as it broke through the last of his restraints, eager for the impending fight.

  Under him, Natasha blinked and narrowed her eyes, now an entrancing combination of ruby and indigo. “Get off of me, Darius.”

  “What? No thank you for saving your ass?”

  “I’d rather you kiss it.” Then her gaze slid behind him and widened.

  Heeding her silent warning, he rolled to the left, while she rolled right. The heavy wood that once graced the back of a couch sank into the wooden floor, right where they’d been lying. The following bellow of fury almost drowned out the shrill summons of a phone somewhere in the house.

  “Who the hell is calling now?” Natasha rose to her feet and circled behind the maddened creature swinging its head between the two of them.

  Darius straightened, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders to shrug off the lingering tingles of pain. “Would you like me to see our guest out, while you answer it, darling?”

  “Generous of you, pet, but I have a better idea.” Under the edge of her rumpled nightgown, her bare feet slid a little more to the left. She gave him a veiled look. “Why don’t we take our visitor someplace a little more private?”

  Understanding clicked. “A grand idea, love.” Beautiful and brilliant, the woman was such a delight. He reached for his magic just as the creature between them lunged for Natasha.

  She didn’t even flinch, simply stood still, haughty and assured. The only one surprised when her magic snapped into place was the creature caught inside. Darius let his own power slide over hers until the two energies met and connected, sending out a vibration like that of a tuning fork, resonating on both the mortal plane and the Side.

  Natasha was beyond furious. Not only was another of her people murdered, but they dared to attack her in her own home. Her living room was reduced to a pile of kindling, and her exquisite wines pooled on the wooden floors. And, to top it off, Darius witnessed her small lapse of control. Someone needed to pay.

  To find out who the grand-prize winner would be, she needed to question their captive. Since he insisted on visiting her at an ungodly hour, she would ensure he stayed until her questions were answered. Which meant she and Darius needed to keep the demon trapped on all three planes—the human plane, where he physically manifested; the Between, where the magic trapping him existed; and the Side, the Amanusas’ playground.

  To do that she needed to start in the Side. But first…“Who sent you?” Her question snapped like a whip, jerking the horned head back as if slapped.

  Darius remained quiet, his arms folded over his bare chest as he watched. Somewhere in the house, the thrice-damned phone began to ring again.

  The demon’s mouth opened, revealing sharp, serrated teeth, but no words emerged. This time, she didn’t miss the ugly wave of fear swimming in the obsidian depths. The demon’s muscles visibly locked and his body began to shake. All signs that things were about to go south.

  She tightened her magical hold even as Darius snapped, “Natasha, take him now!”

  There was no time to snarl at his bossiness. Instead, she sank her magic into the demon, using it to yank him into the Side. Between one breath and the next, her living room disappeared, only to be replaced by a circular room. Ever-shifting ambient light drifted from above, sliding down sm
ooth, stone walls. Her demon surged forward, sublimating her human form, her magical cage strengthening as her focus sharpened. Across from her, Darius’s towering demonic form rose, his magic reinforcing hers.

  Symbols burst into eye searing life as they came fully into the Side, dragging their captive with them. Those symbols were a personal affront, an indicator of a binding. An ear-torturing shriek ripped from the demon caught inside their combined cage. Natasha’s fury hardened into something cold and lethal.

  Darius flicked out a hand, his claws nicking the edge of the binding, sending a cascade of black sparks tumbling down the magic’s surface. The horrendous noise cut off, even though the monster’s mouth remained open, stretched into a jaw-breaking scream. Darius stopped next to her and folding his arms across his chest. “He’s Bound.”

  “Half-Bound,” she corrected, eyes narrowed against the glare as she studied the symbols on the floor. The magical chains weren’t as tight as they should be for a full binding. “Regardless, if we undo his ties to the Side, we’ll sunder his spirit from this form, trapping the man here, while leaving the beast free to roam in the mortal realm. Plus, it won’t leave much of his mind behind.” And since her answers resided inside that mind, they needed another option. One that wouldn’t leave the demon searching for a new host in the mortal realm.

  She glided around the edge of the binding circle, taking note of each symbol. One of the Amanusas’ greatest weakness was bindings, a process the race as a whole made damn sure to hide as many details about as possible.

  A couple of reasons made the binding process problematic. One was the amount of magical strength necessary to hold both the human and demon forms on three different planes: the mortal, the Side, and the Between.

  If you could harness that much power, then was the vital key of Naming, using the correct names—all of them, in the right order—of the demon you were trying to bind. If you failed to do so, you ended up with a Half-Bound. A hellish proposition, as undoing a half-assed binding never ended well for anyone. Those names were never shared, but she wasn’t stupid. The demand for that kind of power created a bustling black market in the Amanusa world. Of course, she collected her fair share of names, most belonging to those in her house who might forget their place. Names she discovered purely by skill alone. Another perk of her bloodline—secrets rarely remained secret.