Page 3

Kit

I woke up with the dregs of the dream still clinging to me, sticky and unpleasant like a spiderweb.

Lemeraties had tugged me back into the dreamscape for one last furtive conversation.

She’d glimpsed something as we walked the dream path with Doyle—memories. The memories weren’t his. They were far too old, too old even to have come from Lemeraties’s lifetime.

“ They are scattered, Kitasa. Too many broken pieces and none of them fit. I cannot easily connect with Doyle when I reach out to him—or when he reaches out to me. The dream paths are jagged. This may be why. ”

She showed me pieces of dreams. I didn’t know how I knew, but each had come from a different person—and there had been at least six, just judging by the feel of the mind I’d ridden in during those brief snatches of thought.

That could be Doyle if we failed—

No . I cut the thought off and brought up the information Chang had shared. Even the details I wished he’d kept to himself.

My brain felt stretched too thin from that knowledge. It was too much but I closed my eyes and fell back on the calm, practiced breathing I’d learned a lifetime ago, willing my racing mind to settle.

Damon’s arm tightened around my waist.

I stiffened, my blood going cold in my veins.

I was so used to going to sleep in his arms, waking in them that it felt perfectly natural to be here. Waking surrounded by him felt so normal .

And it shouldn’t.

How can he even bear to look at me?

Gingerly, I worked out from under his arm.

I’d almost gotten free when he woke and closed his fingers around my wrist.

“Where y’ goin’?” he asked in a sleepy rumble.

His fingers stroked along the inside of my wrist, the skin there exquisitely sensitive. My body, primed to his, heated just from that simple touch and I heard his sharp inhalation of breath as he picked up on my reaction.

Behind me, he pushed up onto his elbow and his lips brushed over my shoulder. Need rose to a clamor inside. I tried to shove it down.

He smoothed a hand down my thigh, palm warming me through the cotton sleep pants I’d pulled on before turning in last night.

“Kit?”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I asked, “How can you even stand to touch me right now?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I tried to answer and couldn’t, the words freezing in my throat.

He sat up, lifting and readjusting my position until I sat between his spread thighs, his body cradling mine and his arms wrapped around me. “If anybody should be asking that, it's me. But you’re not shoving me away, kitten. Why the fuck would I push you away?”

Numb, I shook my head, still frozen, still a raw wound inside.

He stroked a hand up my arm and cupped my chin, guiding my face around until our eyes met. His had rolled to that deep, glowing green and he watched me with a somber expression. “I always want to be with you, Kit. When I’m not touching you, I feel like something is missing. Why do you think that’s changed?”

“After what Chang said…about…everything. And Jude. Malcom…”

“I’ve had weeks to come to grips with what those shitbags spouted. If I was going to bail, don’t you think I would have already done so?”

I hunched my shoulders. “You never said anything. And I…forgot.”

Dear God. That sounded so terrible. How could I have forgotten something so awful?

“Baby girl…” His voice gentled. “You’d just had a shock. They taunted you about killing your mother. And your wound is a lot fresher than mine. Do you really think I’d blame you?”

When I didn’t answer, he guided my chin upward until our gazes met and his eyes narrowed to slits.

“No,” he said succinctly, snapping at the air with sharp, white teeth as he expressed his irritation. “Fuck that idea sideways. You think I could blame you ? You had nothing to do with it.”

“But—”

“No.” In a blur of movement, he picked me up and spun, tossing me onto the bed and coming down on top of me. His chest was bare—a great deal of mine was, thanks to the low neck of the tank. It had a cropped bottom so my belly was exposed as well and the sweatpants he’d worn to bed didn’t do much to hide his erection as he settled between my thighs. His fingers splayed over my chin as he angled my face up toward his. “No buts here, baby girl. Neither of us asked for the shit that happened to us. I was a kid. You weren’t even a thought. We aren’t responsible. Chang didn’t tell us this so we’d feel guilty . He wanted us prepared .”

His eyes burned into mine, demanding I acknowledge what he’d said.

Some part of me knew he was right. If our positions were reversed, I’d feel the same.

When I didn’t answer, he kissed me, the contact all teeth, tongue and hungry demand.

“Does it feel like I don’t want you?” he asked, shoving one hand under my shirt and cupping my breast.

I shuddered as he rolled my nipple between thumb and forefinger, moaning against his lips.

But that wasn’t answer enough for him.

In a burst of mindboggling speed, he moved until he was sprawled between my thighs, my soft cotton pants already off, twisted around one ankle. He pushed my knees apart and kissed his way up my leg, nipping the delicate skin as he neared the crease of my thigh.

“Does it feel like I don’t want you, baby girl?” he asked again, blowing a puff of air against flesh now throbbing, so hot and wet with want.

“No,” I said, gasping the answer out. I could barely see, could barely form thoughts, much less words.

“Good.” He licked me, using his tongue to open me before focusing on my clitoris, teasing it with rapid flicks of his tongue until I was thrashing under him. He pinned me in place with easy strength and once he pushed me into a hard, quick climax, he moved up my body and thrust in deep, not stopping until I’d taken all of him. He caught one of my hands, twining our fingers. “I’ll always want you. I’m begging you…don’t stop wanting me.”

“This is the place,” Damon said as we pulled up in front of a tall fence, the top lined with barbed wire, the moonlight shining off it with a distinct gleam.

“There’s silver in that wire,” I told him. “Welcoming.”

“Scott tells me the man is paranoid—but he’s an equal opportunity hater. Doesn’t like anybody, no matter how you bleed or breathe…or don’t. But he abides by some weird code. As long as you pay him and deal straight, he’ll do the same with you.”

We pulled up to a rather run-down-looking intercom, something I’d only seen in old, pre-war movie flicks.

“Does that thing even work?” I asked skeptically.

“Damn straight it works, blondie,” a sharp-edged voice bit off before Damon could respond, coming through the speaker loud and clear—far clearer than I would have expected. “Give me the passcode or get the fuck off my property.”

Damon shot me a pained look, then looked at the intercom. “Time has a way of changing things.”

“Okay,” the churlish voice said. “And…?”

Damon grumbled something else under his breath and I stared. He shot me a warning look.

"What's the rest?" the male on the speaker asked.

“I’m a hound dog,” Damon snapped. “You going to let us in or do I have to keep quoting lines from some old kid’s movie?”

“That’ll do,” the man said.

I pressed my lips together in sudden amusement. Damon shot me a quick look and I tried for an innocent expression. I don’t know if he bought it. The gate in front of us slid open, smooth and easy, and he arrowed us through the opening.

“I guess I don’t mind sounding like a dumbass quoting ancient movies if it makes you smile again,” he murmured.

“I didn’t recognize the movie if that helps.”

He gave me a look that was equal parts offended and outraged. “The Fox and The Hound, Kit. It’s a classic.”

“I missed a lot of classics. I’ll be playing catch-up for a long time.” I shrugged, unconcerned.

“It was the kid’s favorite movie from the time he was six up until almost eight. I swear, it got to the point where if I heard that disc starting up…” The words trailed off and I looked away from the grounds to focus on him.

His features had gone tight, eyes dark. Gold spiked and swirled in them, eerie and hypnotic before fading to be swallowed up by haunted gray.

The anger I’d been nursing over the days since Doyle had disappeared had evaporated. After Chang dropped his bombshell on us, it was like everything had changed. Now, I felt a gut-wrenching hurt and fear. Not just Doyle, but for Damon, who’d raised the boy like his own son.

You won’t win this time, Fanis. Madae. Whoever the fuck you call yourself. Somehow, I’ll find a way to end you.

Damon’s jaw was rigid and I reached out, trailed my fingers down it. The muscles jumped under my touch and I moved higher, stroked the back of his neck before sliding my hand downward to cover the fist resting on his thigh.

It opened and I twined our fingers. “I didn’t think she’d go after Doyle, either. If I’d considered it even a possibility …”

“We can’t change what’s done. Let’s not waste energy with what-ifs and maybes .” He squeezed my hand, eyes still on the pocked and rutted road unfurling in front of us like a dirty ribbon. “We’ve got enough on our plate. We don’t need to add to it.”

He sure as hell wasn’t wrong there.

We had to find Doyle.

We had to save him before the ancient being I knew as Madae was able to fully take him over.

Find him. Save him. That’s what I’d focus on. Not the fact that Madae probably wasn’t even Madae, but the offspring of some angelic being turned demonic hellspawn who wanted me dead—and not just me.

She wanted Damon dead, too.

She wanted him dead so much, she’d tried to make it happen back when he’d been a young child, decades before I’d been born.

As Damon slowed the borrowed truck to a stop in front of a dilapidated-looking hangar, my mind served up the memory of that conversation with Chang.

A week earlier

“I’m almost certain she’s one of Azazel’s offspring—Azazel is the very last of the Deathless, Damon. I’ve been hunting him for nearly as long as I’ve been alive. But that isn’t what I need to tell you.”

He’s talking about Madae . My mind was still struggling to process everything he’d told us over the past twenty minutes and now, he’d thrown another curveball. It had knocked me on my ass.

Chang, a being older than time itself, was telling me that the woman I’d thought was my grandmother was the offspring of some fallen angel-turned-demon thing.

She wasn't aneira . She was something I'd never encountered. The Deathless. And her father was a fallen angel called Azazel.

What the fuck had we gotten into?

“If that’s not what you need to tell me, then why the fuck are we talking about it?” Damon growled, menace and danger emanating from him.

Chang sighed. The sound was weary. Grief and sadness etched lines on his face as he leaned back into the couch’s plush, padded back. Crossing his ankle over the opposite knee, he gave Damon a long, penetrating stare.

“I understood why you didn’t want to be Alpha. It’s a position that often comes with making hard decisions. Sometimes, those decisions require you to be…cruel,” Chang said, his voice flat, devoid of anything remotely human. “I worked very hard to make sure you understood the weight and burden of your power, and that you had to balance it with what humanity you have inside you. For those of us who have precious little to begin with, it’s not always easy.” He looked away then, hair falling to shield his face. “In all my years, I’ve had to make too many decisions that bordered on cruel. And yet, few have I regretted as much as the one I had to make regarding you.”

He looked back at Damon. The very weight of his power, of him , of all the years and knowledge he carried slammed into us.

I grabbed Damon’s arm, locking my knees as I felt myself sway.

A growl rolled up Damon’s throat but faded before it could echo into the room, a clap of thunder aborted. His hand went to my lower back, steadying me. The familiar prickle of his energy rose, warm and thick as a cat’s pelt of fur, now wrapping around me. Somehow, that steadied me and I steadied even more after shaking my head a few times, clearing the pressure in my head.

“What in the hell are you talking about?” Damon demanded.

Chang’s mouth tightened and I saw something in his face I hadn’t ever seen before.

Uncertainty.

Uneasily, I pressed closer to Damon and found him doing the same, his big body folding in closer until we were pressed together from shoulder to knee.

“You must realize that, at the time, I saw no other option,” Chang said quietly, his gaze sliding away from Damon to stare off into the distance. “You were fading from me, day by day, week by week. I’d failed…again. I’d given a promise to your great-grandfather. Remiel was a dear friend. His grandson, Ismael, was like a brother.”

Next to me, Damon went rigid, like his spine had been turned to pure iron.

“Ismael…” he said, voice taut. “You don’t mean—”

Chang looked up and Damon’s voice cut off.

The other man’s eyes flickered an eerie black, the color so deep it shouldn’t glow. But it did. His voice resonated as he responded, “But I do, Damon. Ismael was several years older than me, already a stripling when I was born. I idolized him, followed him everywhere and he was always patient and kind. As I grew old enough, he was certain to include me in whatever games he might play…and there came a time when I bested him and his friends. He was always proud of that, even though others resented me.”

My chest started to ache and it wasn’t until a burst of air exploded out of me that I realized it was because I was holding my breath.

Both men looked at me, although Damon’s attention lasted a fraction of a second before he focused back on Chang.

How many secrets did this man hold?

“Who is Ismael?” I demanded. Although I had a terrible feeling I already knew.

“He’s my father,” Damon rasped.

A thousand questions boiled to life inside my skull, straining to come pouring out, but none of them could break free.

Damon didn’t have that problem.

He pulled away from me and stalked toward Chang.

“Just how the fuck is that even possible, though, Chang? You’re telling me that my dad is a descendent of the Nephilim— like you —a close one. But according to you, most of them were hunted to extinction by the Deathless—that’s why you hunted down the Deathless, why there’s so few of you around anymore—they chose to die or be killed because they didn’t feel they belonged in the world. So, how the fuck is it possible that my dad was one of them? And what the fuck else is there that you’re not telling me?”