eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520 Macon GA 31201 Stripped Away Copyright © 2008 by Sydney Somers ISBN: 1-59998-673-6 Edited by Lindsey McGurk Cover by Anne Cain All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: February 2008 www.samhainpublishing.com
Stripped Away Shadow Destroyers Book Two
Sydney Somers
Dedication To the wonderful women who take time out of their busy lives to test read my stories. Amelia, you rock at catching those words I tend to overuse. Pam, no matter how close I am to deadline you always make time for me. Laurie, your insight into what I’m doing right in a scene makes revisions an even more enjoyable experience. Stephanie, you always nail those inconsistencies that somehow write themselves into my stories. ☺ One of these days I’m going to have to add an outtake section to the back of my books to show off all the amusing typos you ladies catch.
For every evil there stand guard those who would die to protect the innocent. In a time of ancient magik and blood feuds capable of dividing entire kingdoms, a dying king feared for his people. Feared they would be lost to the very demons he’d helped create—a race of beings that he’d cursed to feel no emotion, a race driven by the hatred forged between two brothers at war. Thousands perished, until the same powerful magik the king used to curse the Shadow Demons became his peoples’ salvation. A magik that let them absorb a Shadow Demon’s abilities when attacked, to use these gifts of healing, speed and telepathy to adapt—to survive. From those strong enough, skilled enough, brave enough, there arose a group who sought to protect their families and loved ones the only way they knew how. To destroy the demons before they could slaughter another innocent. These survivors, Shadow Destroyers, became the elite, the ones first called upon to defend and watch over those who needed them, relying on abilities that had changed the very essence of who they were. The war raged for centuries until finally a descendant of the king defeated and imprisoned all Shadow Demons in a realm where they would have no body to call their own, spending eternity drifting in a fathomless abyss, looking into the human world, but never to be part of it again. Even the purest of magik, however, cannot control that which is purely evil, and it was only a matter of time until the demons found a way to breach their prison. But for every demon determined to cross into our realm, there stand guard those who would die to protect the innocent. They might be the quiet next-door neighbor, the woman who wanders the street late at night, the man who always buys his coffee at the same place every morning. And they are all that stand between us and them.
Sydney Somers
Prologue “Buy me a drink?” It was a tempting invitation. Too tempting. Which was exactly why Braxton Murphy didn’t lift his head from the file open on his desk when he responded, “I’m behind on paperwork.” If he glanced up and found the sexy-as-hell face belonging to the even sexier voice, he might not be able to remember all the reasons not to get involved with another agent. Reasons that ensured he didn’t do something stupid. With a quick mental inventory to tally those reasons—beginning and ending with not wanting to screw up the somewhat friendly relationship he and Quinn already had—he gave himself another second to make sure he wasn’t about to cave and take Quinn up on her offer. Given the way he couldn’t keep his gut from tightening or his pants from stretching tight across his groin when he got within ten feet of her lately, he might skip the bar altogether and drag her home. To bed. Where he could spend hours sampling every inch of her 5’8” frame, inch by slow inch. Okay, probably not that slow. And he needed to get a grip. One sharp indrawn breath through a clenched jaw wasn’t nearly enough to cool the hot wall he felt squeezing in on him when the only thing between the two of them right now was his desk. Long wavy strands of black hair fell across the open file. “What are you working on, Boy Scout?” He frowned at the nickname she’d given him after only being with the Shadow Destroyer network a couple of months. Once upon a time her reference to his by-thebook methods earned her nothing more than an eye-roll. Lately he was in the habit of doubting those methods that drew a clear line that read Do Not Cross right between them. “Come on, I just got back and don’t feel like unwinding alone.”
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The playful plea in her voice—one that dared him to say no—brought his head up. He expected to find a lot of things when he leaned back in his chair. Quinn’s bright turquoise eyes, thick black hair complete with the streaks of electric blue she favored and a playful grin that never failed to make him sit up and take notice. But tonight he wasn’t expecting the sultry curve of her lips—a smile meant to seduce. Quinn never looked at him like that. For the last two years sexual tension had occasionally simmered between them. Sometimes on low and other times a hard, roiling boil. A few times in the early days of working together she’d made a passing comment he could have acted on, an invitation, like tonight’s, that could have laid the framework for something more physical between them. But he’d always held back, determined to avoid the complications of getting involved with another agent, and she had never pressed the issue. Next to Rae, he was second in command, which in situations like this, jammed him right between a rock and a hard place. Even if Quinn was game and he was willing to risk their professional relationship by throwing casual sex into the mix, it would go against the unwritten rule of not screwing agents under his authority. The seductive expression on her face tonight—right down to the way she perched on the edge of his desk and leaned forward to allow him more than an eyeful of what lay under the burgundy button-up shirt she wore—was pure siren. And if the devilish glint in her eye was any indication, she wanted to lure him right over the edge. “Come on. One drink. I’ll even let you beat me at a game of pool.” She toyed with the button that would give him an even better view of her breasts. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She arched a brow, then flipped the folder closed and scanned the top of his desk. “What are you looking for?” “You must have jotted pro and con notes down for this situation. Just want to see what the cons were since we both know what the pros would be.”
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The insinuation of what she blatantly implied stuck in the back of his throat. Braxton sucked in a hot breath that tunneled clear through his middle and settled uncomfortably right in his groin. “You’re not about to make me beg, are you?” “Quinn—” “Brax,” she interrupted. “I’m just asking about a drink.” He might have believed her until she reached out and traced the top of his hand in a slow figure-eight he felt all the way to the bone. She abruptly sat back. “You’re still going to pass, aren’t you?” “You just got back from assignment. When was the last time you slept?” “On the plane, but thanks for worrying about my sleeping habits.” She stood up, crossed her arms. “You have debriefing tomorrow. No point in not getting rested up.” He was reaching now and they both knew it. He didn’t need to sift through her thoughts to confirm it. Not that he could very easily. Out of all the agents, Quinn’s mental shields were the strongest, ones that kept him firmly out unless she let her guard down. And that wasn’t often. She sighed. “Naturally. Must go home and right to bed. Forgot it said that on the first page of the rule book.” She turned and strode away from him, a hitch in her stride bringing her up short. Braxton stood up. “You okay?” Her hand paused over the side of her thigh, then she glanced over her shoulder. “I’m fine, but I’d be better if I wasn’t leaving here alone.” “Not tonight.” He had to force the words out. He continued to stare after her when she disappeared down the hallway leading to the field office’s main exit. Hands shoved in his pockets, he was still rooted in place when Gage stopped in front of him. “Working late again?” Gage didn’t even cover the derision in his voice at the sight of the paperwork on Braxton’s desk.
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“For a bit,” he answered, distracted. He couldn’t get the look on Quinn’s face out of his mind when she mentioned the pros of them going out. “How was Prague?” “Fairly uneventful. Not a Scion to be found. But a particularly nasty lust demon nearly got the jump on me. Quinn had my back though.” Brax tucked the knowledge away for now, knowing a debriefing about their assignment would be in the works for tomorrow. Part of him hated that they hadn’t been able to get a lead on the Scion, the other part was relieved he hadn’t missed out on taking down a master Shadow Demon. “Did Quinn already head out?” “Yeah.” He flipped the file closed, replaying their encounter in the back of his mind. But instead of it ending with her walking away, he hauled her across the desk and into his lap. “I need to crash. I’ll catch ya tomorrow. Is it your turn to grab coffee in the morning?” “I think it’s Drew’s.” Gage shuddered. “If he shows up in the morning with only black stuff, I’m cutting him a new asshole.” “Save yourself the effort. It’ll only dull your sword.” Snorting, Gage headed out the same way as Quinn, and Braxton dropped back into his chair. He stared at the small stack of folders with no small amount of loathing. He might be more dedicated about staying on top of the paperwork they had to file after every assignment, but he damn well wasn’t a fan of it. At the same time, he wasn’t about to lose a day to being confined to the field office because he was behind on the bureaucratic crap. Why his faceless superiors wanted them to note every detail on each encounter with a Shadow Demon was beyond him. Chances were any encounter only led to one thing. Vanquishing. Why they needed to fill in the blanks when there was one less emotionthirsty demon prowling around didn’t make sense in the scope of the big picture as far as he was concerned. But it was part of the job, plain and simple.
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In the back of his mind he registered Drew and Gage talking near the elevator, but didn’t intrude on their thoughts to find out what they discussed. The ability to read their minds came part and parcel with the mutation of the gene he carried—the Destroyer gene that had made the difference between death at the hands of a telepath Shadow Demon and a career of vanquishing them. “Quinn been drinking?” Drew asked, pausing next to his desk. Braxton frowned at the blond Shadow Destroyer known among the other agents as the quintessential ladies man. “I don’t think so.” “She’s been smoking something then. That woman has never made a pass at me since we’ve been working together.” “Not every woman bows down at your feet.” Though Drew probably had a pair of women’s underwear stuffed in his pocket as proof to the contrary. “Well Quinn didn’t bow exactly, but the offer of a beer at her place wasn’t exactly a turn off.” Braxton tossed the folder in his hand aside. “She asked you back to her place?” Drew grinned like he’d reached the peak of Mt. Everest. “Surprised me too. Too bad I already have plans tonight or it might have crossed my mind to take her up on it.” It didn’t take more than a peek at Drew’s thoughts to know he added that last bit just to piss Braxton off. Drew narrowed his eyes. “That’s not cool, man.” He snatched the globe paperweight off the corner of Brax’s desk and threw it at him. Like Quinn, Drew’s genes had been mutated by a stealth demon, giving them heightened senses, reflexes and speed. Only the glimmer of Drew’s intentions gave Braxton enough notice to catch the paperweight before it nailed him square in the chest. Even being more resistant to injury than the average person, the stone weight still would have hurt like hell if he’d missed. “Nice catch.” Drew grinned and strolled away. Braxton set the paperweight down and dropped back into his chair. He swiveled around to face his computer, his hand pausing over the mouse. Snippets of all three conversations replayed in his mind.
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He froze. Shit. He snapped his cell phone off his desk and dialed Quinn. He was halfway to the main elevator when he gave up on her answering. Disconnecting the call, he then redialed and tried Gage instead. “Calling to offer to do my paperwork while you’re at it?” Braxton stabbed the call button for the elevator. “Are you still in the garage?” “Yeah. What’s going on?” “Do you see Quinn anywhere?” The doors slid open a moment later and he entered the lift. “Just a sec.” Braxton glared at the floor buttons that lit up, signaling the elevator’s sluggish descent. “Gage?” He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate, hoping Quinn was still close enough he might be able to pick up on her proximity. “Her car is still here,” Gage said slowly after another few seconds. “But I don’t see her anywhere.” “Try the bar.” They all tended to stop into Kane’s for a beer once or twice a week. Seeing as how it was only a block down from the front company that masked their field office, it was convenient. Tonight it was too damn convenient for Quinn to find someone to take home. “You think she went for a beer?” “I think she may have gone looking for a hell of a lot more than that.” The elevator doors opened on the first floor and he headed for the hallway exit, pausing for the retinal scan that kept out people who didn’t belong. Even the field office’s small group of support staff that occupied the first level didn’t have access to the upper floors. Braxton reached the lobby, hoping he might even get to the bar before Gage. “You know something I don’t?” Gage spoke in his ear.
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“You said you guys tangled with a lust demon and Quinn came on pretty strong to both me and Drew tonight.” “Well hell.” Something like the sound of the phone being switched from one ear to another echoed over the line. “I see her.” “You still in the garage?” “Yeah. I’ll meet you back upstairs in a minute.” Braxton paused on the front sidewalk, wanting to bring her in himself. If he were any closer to the underground lot, he might have. Gage was already there. He’d handle it. It wasn’t unheard of for agents to become infected by the weird mojo lust demons put out. Most times an agent needed an open cut to feel the resulting heightened sex drive. If he had to guess, Quinn had been injured during the fight. Even the most minor cut was all that was needed. That, and a few hours for the temporary infection to work through her system. He didn’t know whether or not to be disappointed that what she’d said tonight was obviously the initial stages of the infection talking. A few minutes after he hit the central office, Gage came off the elevator with an unconscious Quinn in his arms. “She let you get close enough, I see.” Gage snorted. “Another half a second and she probably would have broken my arm.” “It would have healed.” He led the way past the common room and down to the private quarters. They’d never had to use the room for anything other than one of them occasionally catching some shut-eye, until now. “Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t have hurt.” “For about thirty seconds.” One of the perks of being initiated by a war demon was inheriting their ability to heal almost instantly, or within hours depending on how much of the demon’s dakorum, its essence, had been absorbed during the initial stages of the gene mutation. “Either way, I’m just glad she isn’t likely to remember enough of this to be pissed at me for pulling a Spock on her.”
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Gage was lucky she even let him near the base of her skull. The only Achilles’ heel on any Destroyer was the pressure point they were careful not to let anyone near. Only other agents knew about the weakness, and if she’d had any idea what Gage had intended, she would have been five feet away from him before he realized it. Gage laid her on the bed and disappeared out the door with a brisk, “I’ll be right back.” Alone, Braxton allowed himself to sit next to Quinn on the bed, taking a second to smooth her hair back from her face. The slight brush across her cheek unraveled some of the tension he’d been carrying around since she first parked herself on the edge of his desk. In sleep her face was void of the wild energy that seemed to surround her, pulling friends and coworkers headlong into the chaos she fully embraced, an unpredictable chaos that defined their lives and careers. He could appreciate vanquishing demons, sparing the innocent from one more human-looking monster that would feed off their emotions. But Quinn…Quinn loved every second of what she did. Hell, the woman slayed demons with a smile on her face. She murmured in her sleep and pressed her cheek against the side of his hand. “Brax.” The sleepy voice echoed through his mind, and he realized she hadn’t whispered it, but thought it. The warm tangle of psychic waves rolled through his mind. He could count on one hand the number of times Quinn had ever dropped her mental shields long enough to project her thoughts to him. Lowering her guard that way meant giving him access to her thoughts, something he’d never known her to do. “Here we go.” Braxton pushed to his feet and crossed to the other side of the room under the guise of setting her bag on the small dresser as Gage strode back into the room. “You think those are necessary?” He nodded to the specially made restraints Gage held. “Maybe. Have you seen anyone affected before?”
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Braxton shook his head. He’d come across bits in the database from other field offices that agents could be at the peak of the infection for anywhere from a couple hours to a couple days and all they wanted was sex. “It’s not always pretty, and with her speed and reflexes I don’t know that I want to test her.” Braxton didn’t object when Gage slid the restraints on, but his spine snapped straight at the sight of her hands locked together. They both knew the restraints might not hold up if Quinn woke and was determined to get out of them. Gage sighed. “I guess we should call Rae and let her know.” “I’ll stay with her. Rae just got back herself and you’re dead on your feet.” “There’s always Drew.” Gage paused. “Forget I even said that.” “No problem.” Braxton stepped up next to his friend. “Go on home and sleep. You can always come back in early to let me catch an hour or two before debriefing.” Gage nodded. “You sure you’re fine with her like this?” Braxton cast another look down at Quinn. “I’ve got it covered.” The other agent headed for the door. “If you need me, call.” The same weariness, one Braxton had been picking up on more and more lately, filtered into Gage’s voice. “You okay, man?” Gage scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, just…tired. Really, really tired.” Braxton didn’t need to read his friend’s thoughts to know there was a lot more to it than that, but he let it go and turned back to Quinn as Gage left. She stirred on the bed, and he wondered how long it would be until she woke up. Deciding it was going to be a long night, he grabbed a blanket from the closet and draped it over her. Doubting that he’d be getting much sleep, he locked the door behind him with a few taps on the keypad and went in search of coffee. He’d barely hit the common room, his fingers closing around the handle of a coffee pot, when the first waves of distress screeched through his mind. He bolted for the private quarters. Halfway down the hall he could hear her banging on the door.
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“Quinn!” He had to raise his voice to be sure she heard him above the yelling from the opposite side. Anger he’d anticipated, but the fear in her voice caught him off guard. Another side effect of the infection? “Braxton?” The banging ceased, but he could hear her fiddling with the doorknob. “What’s going on? Why do I have restraints on? I need you to take them off. Right now. I can’t—” “I think you were infected by the lust demon you fought in Prague.” “That’s not possible.” She didn’t sound certain and nowhere close to calm. Her fist struck the door. “I need you to take these off, Brax.” “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “Take them off,” she snapped, panic threading into the demand. “Your leg, did you hurt it in Prague?” “I hurt it on the plane.” She paused. “I think I did.” She hit the door again. “Damn it, Braxton, I can’t think. I need to get these off.” Her voice faded as he heard her move from the door. “Quinn?” “Can’t think. Can’t breathe. Can’t…” With a furious pounding of his fingers over the keys, he released the lock and stepped inside, reengaging it behind him. The sight of her on the floor trembling, her knees drawn up to her chest, brought him up short. Jesus. “Quinn?” He crouched next to her, and she shied away from him. Something wasn’t right. This couldn’t be because of the lust demon. “It’s okay,” he said softly and coaxed her chin up until she met his gaze. Unshed tears shone in her eyes until she realized it was him. She pushed herself to her knees and straight into his arms. “I need you to take them off. Please, Braxton. I won’t go anywhere. I swear. You have to take them off. You can’t leave me like this.” He tried to sift through the jumble of thoughts her lowered guard allowed him to have access to. He needed to know what the hell prompted this. “Please,” she whispered brokenly.
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He started to rise only to have her bury her face against his throat. “It’s okay.” He smoothed a hand up her back, never imagining that being this close to her would feel so damn good. He tightened his hold on her for just another minute then carefully drew back. “I’ll just be a second.” He crossed to the cabinet where Gage had stashed the key before he left. Braxton sat on the edge of the bed where Quinn had moved to when she spotted the key in his hand. She rubbed her wrists. “Thanks. I couldn’t keep those on. They were just…” She trailed off, not looking at him. He continued to wonder why they had freaked her out so much. He doubted anyone was fond of waking to find their hands bound, but he’d seen her face down groups of demons and not show one ounce of the panic she’d displayed seconds ago. He thought about probing a bit, but as tempting as it was—and Quinn was nothing if not tempting all around—he curbed the urge and set the restraints on the table. She shook her head. “Can you put them in the closet or something?” He did as she asked, then leaned a hip into the table and gave her a critical once over. “How’s your leg?” “I don’t know.” She stood up, and tugged her pants down. The confident and completely comfortable-in-her-own-skin gesture had nothing to do with the lust demon and a lot to do with Quinn not caring what anyone thought. She peered at the small nick on her leg. “Son of a bitch,” she said. His attention had predictably wandered up her body, registering one of her Destroyer tattoos at her ankle, the other—the same one as his, a cloaked figure carrying a sword—at the small of her back. He noted the small injury on her thigh in the back of his mind as he drank in the sight of her. He wouldn’t have figured Quinn for a plain white cotton panty girl, but the view had the same impact. He got hard. Fast.
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“I thought it was from the plane, not the fight.” She dropped back onto the bed. “Hell. I really am going to need to be quarantined, huh?” “For a while.” “I don’t suppose I’m contagious and you’re stuck in here with me?” Something in the tilt of her head had him backing up fast. “Get some rest.” She laughed, but the smoky sound was anything but truly amused. “I’m not making you nervous, am I?” Braxton held his ground. “You need to sleep.” “I probably should.” She glanced at the bed, then back to his face. “I’m not tired though.” “Count sheep.” “That’s one option.” He really couldn’t take hearing the other. She didn’t get that apparently and continued with, “Or you could stay and keep me company.” “I have stuff I need to finish.” Stuff that was rooms away from where she sat on the bed with her legs folded under her, giving him just enough to look at to whip his blood into a firestorm. He backtracked to the door. She beat him to it. Only the fact that he was used to Quinn moving that fast kept him from going on the defensive. “Stay. Please.” She blocked the door with her body. Braxton kept his attention fixed firmly on her face, reminding himself with the mental equivalent of a blow horn that her actions were driven by the infection. She lifted a hand and settled it over his heart. The heat from her palm seared straight through him. “I don’t want to be alone in here, Brax.” “Not a good idea.” “It’s never a good idea with you.”
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He couldn’t argue with that. It was sound logic from where he was standing at the moment. Her fingers closed around his shirt, and she closed her eyes. “I’m tired of being alone. Please don’t go.” Along with the carnal need that shimmered across her face, he heard the one thing in her voice he could relate to. Loneliness. He closed his fingers around hers and tugged her hand free. “This isn’t really you talking.” “Yes it is. I mean, I hear what I’m saying. And it’s almost like I’m drunk and I don’t care what I say, but that doesn’t make it less true. I want you to stay, Braxton. I want you period.” “You have to go to bed and I have to leave.” She edged away from the door and closer to him. “I can see on your face how much you want me.” He grabbed the doorknob, her proximity stretching his control like a sheet snapping wildly in the breeze before a thunderstorm. If he dropped his head just a bit, he could sample the mouth he’d been fantasizing about since she’d first sauntered through the field office doors. Her hand closed around his on the door. “Just for a few minutes.” “We can’t.” She snaked an arm around his neck. “Yes, we can.” She trailed her mouth along the edge of his jaw. “All you have to do is give in. Like I have.” “And you’ll regret even going this far in the morning.” It was a chore to even speak at this point. Only his fierce grip on the door kept him from sweeping her straight into his arms. “I won’t regret a thing because what I’m feeling is real.” “And was what you were feeling real when you came onto Drew?” She smiled. “You’re jealous.” “I’m just pointing out that you don’t care who you get naked with.”
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A wounded look filled her eyes before she moved quickly, reversing their positions to back him against the door. “My comment to Drew was nothing more than flirting, and he knew it or else he would have followed me home like the nympho we all know he is.” She pushed her hands under the edge of his shirt. “What I said to you before, what I’m saying to you now, may be coming out because of that lust demon, but I’m not sorry for it. Not when I’ve wondered what it would be like between us, wanted to have you exactly where I’ve got you now—knowing how bad you want to give in.” He swallowed hard, unable to fabricate a denial when she had every luscious inch tucked against him. Quinn reached up and brushed her mouth across his. Sweet softness and the slow silky glide of her tongue exploded across his senses. Common sense dictated he pry himself out of her arms and get the hell out of there. Although there might be a lot of truth to Quinn’s claim of wanting him as much as he wanted her, he knew she wouldn’t be kissing him senseless if not for the lust demon. But no amount of reasonable argument silenced the one part of him he couldn’t ignore. The part that demanded he take just a minute and appreciate this moment because it might never come back around. He’d be stupid not to take a full taste of her and put his wandering mind to rest about what it felt like to fall into a gut-wrenching kind of kiss with Quinn at the wheel. The kind that led to hours of tangled sheets and slick sweaty bodies. He groaned and swept inside her mouth, his hands moving from the door to grip her waist. Better than he imagined and worse that now he knew what he would be missing after this one kiss. One kiss that didn’t end as she fisted her hands in his shirt and pressed every enticing curve into him. When she nudged his impossible-to-hide erection, his muscles locked in sweet anticipation of her doing it again. That’s how he knew he was in trouble. Though it killed him, he drew back. “I’m going now.” “No.”
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“Quinn,” he began already knowing his denials were running out of fuel. “No. Tonight, right this second, that rule book is going in the garbage.” She tugged her shirt over her head. A better man would have closed his eyes, would have snatched her shirt up and pressed it against her chest. He might not be a rule breaker, but he was far from a saint and couldn’t have stopped his gaze from tracing every smooth plane and inviting curve even if a Scion appeared out of thin air next to them. Her nipples puckered against the soft cotton bra. His hand itched to slide the straps off her shoulder and find out what her skin felt like under his bare palm, what she would taste like when he scraped his teeth across the stiff tips, flicking his tongue over each nipple. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the door, grappling for the strength to do the right thing. “Brax.” She lifted his hand and guided it to her breast. “Touch me. Learn me in all the ways I dream about when I’m at home alone.” She caught his mouth with hers. He let her explore his mouth, and in turn lost himself in the slick stroke of her tongue. The way her body fit so snugly against his. The way she arched against him as he worked her bra off and brushed his thumb down the side of her breast. One last burst of rational thought tried to squeeze through and kill the moment he selfishly wanted for himself. “You know you won’t remember this in the morning.” “I might,” she whispered against his mouth. “Probably not.” She shook her head. “I want you so badly that nothing is going to let me forget what it feels like to finally have your hands on me.” Nothing but the infection. She tipped her face up, her gaze far too perceptive for someone in the peak of a temporary pollution from the lust demon. “If I do forget, I know I can trust you to tell me.”
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“Which is why we should stop—” Why he should stop before what was left of his control disintegrated altogether. She silenced his objection with another kiss that jolted his system. “We’re not stopping. We both know I’m safe from pregnancy from the shots,” she added, squelching his last logical argument for pulling back, “and I’ll remember this. I will, Brax. Please tell me you’re not going to walk away now?” She didn’t even give him a second to answer before she caged his face in her hands and poured every inch of her into a kiss that knocked his last objection right out of the ballpark. Her hand dipped below his waist, her fingers closing around his cock and gripping him firmly. He grunted against her lips and pushed against her palm. Then she backed away. With the siren smile firmly in place, she stripped off her panties and headed for the bathroom. “I feel like a shower.” Appreciating the sweet curve of her ass as she vanished into the private bathroom, he yanked his shirt over his head and started after her. She didn’t even look over her shoulder to see if he followed. Because she already knew what he’d been slower to admit. He wanted her too damn much to walk away now. The last chance to change his mind evaporated the second he rounded the corner. And then she was there, her naked body grinding against him as she fastened her mouth over his. Propelled back, he hit the tile wall hard enough to knock the air from his lungs, but recovered as her tongue pushed past his lips. Like the demons she slayed, Quinn damn near brought him to his knees, making even the breath he struggled to draw well worth the price to taste her. She swiveled her hips, arching against his throbbing arousal. “Finally ready to play, Boy Scout?” She reached between them, pushing his pants down until his erection sprang free, thick and hard. And wanting inside her.
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Braxton turned, flattening her to the wall. “More than you know.” Quinn dragged her tongue across her bottom lip. “About time.” The heat from her naked skin seeped into him, the rise and fall of her breasts— nipples hard and rubbing his chest—driving him mindless with lust. He crushed his mouth down on Quinn’s, drowning in the addictive flavor of her that ignited his senses. She moaned against his mouth, her teeth nipping his bottom lip before tugging it between hers. She cupped his erection, her thumb stroking the head of his cock with a slow swirl of friction that ran like lightning straight down his spine. Braxton dipped his head, curling his tongue around one dark nipple. Her back arched as he closed his mouth around it and tugged. “Foreplay will kill me,” she growled, scoring her nails across his shoulders. With her planted between him and the wall, Quinn was at his mercy, and for the first time he wanted her to know it. He flicked his tongue across the other swollen peak. “You wanted this, you won’t rush me.” “We both wanted it.” She closed her hand around him. He hissed out a breath, locking his jaw against the sweet slide of her hand pumping the length of his shaft. Slow and soft, then fast and urgent, releasing her hold on him the second he started to thrust against her hand. “I’m ready for you,” she murmured against his cheek. “Touch me and see.” His body clenched, nerve endings vibrating with a tension only she seemed capable of generating inside him. Braxton did as she bade, trailing his fingers down her belly to the soft curls between her legs. He parted her slick folds, slipping down to tease her opening. He bit down at the feel of satiny wetness. Quinn whimpered, and Braxton slammed his eyes shut, fighting to hold on a little longer. He circled her damp opening, wanting her as desperate as he was, and then pushed two fingers into her sex. The silky walls clamped greedily around his fingers. All it took was envisioning her sheathing him like that, and he hooked his hands around her thighs, lifting her off the floor.
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The head of his cock nestled against her sex, his muscles straining with the need to possess her once and for all. “Now, Braxton.” The harsh plea shattered him and he thrust into her, closing the distance between them to catch the cry of pleasure ripped from her mouth. He withdrew and slammed back inside her again, burying his cock deep. Quinn panted against his mouth, her choppy breaths matching his as he slowly pumped in and out of her sex, then faster, unable to ease the ferocious hunger pulsing through him. He ground his pelvis against hers, a primal satisfaction burning through his gut when she cried out, her sex exploding in sweet spasms that gloved the length of his shaft. Groaning, his fingers bit into her ass, shifting to deepen the penetration. He knew the second he hit the right spot by the way her eyes shot open, her glittering turquoise depths locking onto him. “Brax…” He pressed his face against her throat, the hot edge of release skimming down his backbone. “Harder,” she demanded, the desperation in her voice echoing his own. As he sank into her tight opening one final time, shoving them both over the edge, Braxton knew that this would change everything. And it scared the hell out of him.
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Chapter One Two Months Later The sound of her own scream woke her. Quinn bolted upright, fighting an invisible enemy. Her heart bashed the inside of her ribs and she kicked at the sheets tangled around her legs. She hit the floor with a jarring impact, and regained her footing in the next instant, sweeping a sharp gaze around the room. She closed her eyes and drew in a shaky breath. Another nightmare. Fuck. She sat down and pushed back the sweaty hair tangled around her face, her hands still trembling. Talking to the agency shrink obviously wasn’t getting her anywhere. Just her luck that they had their customary post-assignment session scheduled for tomorrow. She glanced at the clock. Make that later today. The first rays of dawn peeked through the middle of the drapes she’d yanked together before falling into bed last night. She wasn’t in the mood for a sunny morning today. Rain would be a better fit. It had been raining in her nightmare. One of the few details that lingered after the other images faded. Maybe a little sun wouldn’t be so bad after all. With the same grim determination she’d clung to since the recurring nightmares started two months ago, she headed for the bathroom, stripping out of her usual nighttime wear of a T-shirt and panties. She couldn’t get warm enough as she stepped under the spray. An invisible chill crawled under her skin and even cranking the faucet until she whimpered from the hot water didn’t release the icy tension grappled around her muscles. Hell of a way to start the day. By the time she dried off and dressed, stuffed a change of clothes in her duffle bag and downed a bottle of Mountain Dew, she was halfway to normal. On the way out the
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door, she dialed Jordan to see if the other agent was up for some time in the training room before debriefing. A half-stale bagel still tucked in a crumpled zip-lock bag became a quick breakfast. As usual, she let her thoughts drift as she navigated the morning traffic, cranking the radio up until the hard wails of Nickelback threatened to shatter the windshield. Loud music was a blessing. It helped drown out all the voices and sounds that sometimes overwhelmed her heightened senses—all thanks to the gift she came away with after a near fatal brush with a stealth demon. The whole violent encounter aside—one she never thought about unless she had to— it had been one of those life-changing moments. Rather like seeing those poor saps on televised evangelical shows where one touch from the hand of some preacher rocked their world. Somehow Quinn doubted their experiences were quite so life-altering as her own. The small investment firm that doubled as a front company for their center of operations lent a somber, yet professional outward appearance that would never lead anyone to believe it was but one of dozens of field offices within the secretive Shadow Destroyer network. A group that was a little too secretive in Quinn’s opinion. Outside of their immediate superior, Rae, and a handful of other agents she’d crossed paths with while on assignment, everyone else within the network was unknown to her. The small underground garage required only a keycard at its outward entrance. She fished through her bag and came up empty. One she’d apparently left at home. Wonderful. Shooting a hope upward that Braxton wouldn’t be the one to answer the call, she hit the button next to the slot on the gate. A few seconds passed, and then the gate lifted without whoever was on the other end lobbing a sarcastic barb about her forgetting the damn card again. Hoping it was Jordan who let her through, Quinn parked in her usual spot and made it to the elevator only to realize she’d left her duffle bag in the back of the car. She turned
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around to go back and came up short as a familiar candy-apple red Mustang came around the corner. Quinn spun on her heel and strode for the elevator. She could go back for her bag later. Later when Braxton wasn’t parking right next to her car. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she’d started avoiding him. Not that she had any issues with him, except that over the past few weeks he’d made it increasingly clear her very presence annoyed the hell out of him. Once upon a time that small slice of knowledge might have brightened her day and made her seek him out just to gleefully push his buttons. Given that his usual scowl had taken on a hard edge, she found herself more than happy to steer clear. And it certainly didn’t help that despite his shitty attitude, every now and then a particularly hot dream woke her in the middle of the night, proving that she still had a thing for him whether he was a total asshole or not. She punched the button on the elevator, cursing the slow-ass contraption, aware of every movement Braxton made as he drained the last of his coffee, tucked his sunglasses back in their spot atop the visor, then got out of the car. So much for avoiding boxing herself in with him first thing in the morning. He spared her little more than a nod as they waited for the elevator. This morning his brown hair was mussed from the habit he had of dragging his hand through it, his haunting golden eyes fixed on the elevator’s outer doors. The scent of his soap wafted along her heightened senses, the smell teasing at the back of her memory the way it had for the last two months. As if she’d all but tasted it herself. “How was Mexico?” she asked as they moved into the elevator and she completed the retinal scan that would give them access to the main floor of their field office. Anything to keep herself from recalling the tantalizing fantasy of them being trapped in here together, one she’d indulged in on and off over the last twenty-five months. But then that was before Braxton started letting someone shove a tent pole up his ass every morning.
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“Warm,” he finally answered, finding the grout of the tile floor infinitely more interesting than her. Right. And just like that, what little good mood had been restored after her nightmare dried up. Quinn crossed her arms and did her best to ignore that she had to breathe the same air as someone who had once at least tolerated having her around. The only saving grace was that she’d been spared from much of his attitude since they’d only been partnered on a few assignments in recent weeks. Though he’d denied that she’d done anything to embarrass either one of them when she’d been infected by a lust demon, she wasn’t certain she believed him. Within days of that night, his attitude had begun to change towards her. Only one time had she demanded to know if she’d foolishly come on too strong, desperate to reassure herself she hadn’t said something that would make it uncomfortable to work together. Like how much she wanted him, had wanted him since they’d started working together. In true Braxton fashion he’d politely said there was nothing to worry about, that she hadn’t lost control the way she’d feared and had slept the worst of it off. If he had met her gaze at any point during the entire conversation she might not have lingering doubts that she’d done something that night that had changed things between them. A few times since then she’d started to broach the subject again only to change her mind. Given that she couldn’t remember much about that night, part of her was afraid to find out what she might have to done to make him distance himself. The other part was determined not to care what Braxton’s problem was. Quinn registered the soft click in the back of her mind, knew it came from farther up the shaft. A second later the elevator jolted to a stop. Which wasn’t anything more than an annoyance—until the lights blinked out. Her eyes adjusted instantly, but the dark still pressed in on her, made all the worse by the knowledge she was in a small box, probably trapped between floors. Dim emergency lights clicked on, but did nothing to soothe the rapid fire pace of her heart.
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“What’s going on?” Her jaw ached from the force of holding back the panic wedged in her throat. Nothing was lit up on the panel to indicate what floor they were on. Instead of feet separating her from the walls, the distance shrank to inches in her mind. A cold sweat broke out down her spine and dampened her palms. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and closed her eyes to feign the illusion she was in a big room. “It’s just maintenance work. I remember Rae saying something about it.” “Shouldn’t they make sure no one is inside before they fuck around?” “Quinn?” She ignored the penetrating stare Braxton aimed at her, not finding the amber depths distracting enough to get her past the unexpected bout of claustrophobia triggered by the dark. Until two months ago, right when the nightmares started, she’d never felt the least bit uncomfortable in the elevator. Having the lights out wasn’t helping matters any. A tapping she doubted Braxton could hear started somewhere up the shaft, and with every grating strike of metal against metal, an unease she couldn’t explain slithered down her backbone. She snatched up the emergency phone, saw her hand shake, and thrust it at Braxton. “Tell them to stop whatever they’re doing and let us out.” He did as she asked, but not without another probing look that told her he was fishing for what was going through her mind. She didn’t even bother to tell him to knock it off. She wanted out, and the longer she studied the roof tiles, the more appealing they were looking as a means of escape. Climbing up the shaft was movement, not being in here—trapped. Alone. But she wasn’t alone. She clenched her fists at her sides and tried to reassure herself she was fine. This was fine. Brax was with her. Brax who couldn’t stand her. Hell, she was probably better off alone. A bitter laugh trickled over the fear that coated her tongue, and Braxton arched a brow. Having replaced the phone he had nothing to do but watch her. “Something going on with you lately?”
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“I could ask you the same thing,” she said without looking at him, stabbing the still unlit buttons just for good measure. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing. How long until this death crate moves?” “They said a few minutes.” Might as well have been a few hours. She needed to focus. All around her she could feel the four walls creeping closer. Her heart thundered like a Kentucky Derby thoroughbred tearing up the track. Braxton lifted a hand and she instinctively pulled back from his touch. She snapped her gaze to his, fighting not to lose it. “I’m not going to hurt you.” “I know.” And she did know it, but fuck she wanted out of this box. She eyed the ceiling tiles again. “You’re not thinking about—” He caught her hand this time. “You’re shaking.” The warmth from his hand spread over her wrist and up her arm. “I don’t like this.” Admitting even that much was hard. He started to let go of her. “Don’t like what?” She grabbed hold of his hand—an anchor for her now. Distraction. She needed to focus on something until the elevator got moving. The clicks and snaps of the maintenance worker ticked in her eardrum like a bomb. Braxton was all she had and the adrenaline whooshing through her system brought the first thought right to her lips. “What did I do?” He frowned. “What did I do that you suddenly found it hard to be around me?” When he didn’t respond right away, she tightened her grip. “I want to know what changed things. Why we can’t be in the same room anymore without you glaring at me and meaning it?” “I didn’t mean it before?” The teasing comment was a transparent attempt to avoid answering the question.
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Another loud creak up the shaft had her closing her eyes. A wave of nausea hit her hard and she pressed her lips together. She had to get out of here. She moved away from him and into the corner of the elevator where she could use the railings to give her a little boost up. “Don’t.” Braxton reached for her. She pushed him away. The walls eased closer and she could hear her own panicked whimpers in the back of her mind. “I can’t stay in here.” “Slow down. Talk to me, Quinn. Tell me what’s going on?” “I don’t know. I can’t breathe, I can’t think in here.” Her back hit the wall, the smooth finish almost hot against her rapidly cooling skin. She splayed a palm against the wall, cringing at how close it felt. Her knees quivered, threatening to give out and dump her to the floor. “Easy.” He lowered his voice and for a moment the soothing tone penetrated the thick fog that made it impossible to think beyond the fact it was dark and she couldn’t move more than a few feet in any direction. What was happening to her? Braxton slid an arm around her back, drawing her closer. She bit her lip against the sigh of relief that tore through her, and buried her face against the strong column of his throat. His arms locked around her, making her feel safe. Protected. That should have been a laugh. She’d been on her own long enough that she hadn’t thought she needed to feel protected. “It’s okay,” he murmured against her hair, the gesture so familiar she might have dreamed this before. He rubbed her back in lazy circles. “Tell me what’s happening with you Quinn.” “I don’t know,” she managed, her throat too tight to get any more words past without making it obvious how close to tears she was. The lights flickered on full and the elevator resumed its climb. Her heart slowed, but she didn’t loosen her hold on him, didn’t let him back away either.
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The doors chimed and slid open on their floor, but she didn’t move. Nothing should have stopped her from flying straight out of there and embracing a wider space. Nothing save how good it felt tucked in his arms. He didn’t force her away, and her pulse ticked off the seconds as she waited for exactly that. Waited for him to act as though holding her was the worst sort of chore. Instead, he slowed the lazy circles, but didn’t stop. Quinn tipped her face back, her breath still fast and shallow. His finger brushed her cheek as he tucked her hair behind her ear. She could feel each plane of skin and muscle pressed intimately against hers, feel it warming her straight through. “You okay?” The question slid out in a tone she didn’t recognize. His dark amber gaze traveled over her face, nothing resembling the customary cynicism that he reserved just for her lately present. “I’m better now.” How could she not be? She was in his arms, and not there just long enough to be tossed right over his shoulder from their sparring days. She studied the shadowed jaw he was content not to shave more than every few days. Full lips parted, his breath warm on her cheek. Her insides knotted but for completely different reasons than moments ago. The palm against her back tightened, his fingertips sinking into her skin with enough pressure to make her aware of the way his attention had dropped to her mouth. The urge to close her eyes and push up on her toes to meet his lips swirled through her. “Sorry about that.” The unfamiliar voice pushed them apart as the maintenance guy studied his clipboard as they stepped hastily onto the main floor. Quinn wasn’t sure if she imagined the soft squeeze of Braxton’s fingers over her hip before he put distance between them. With no further explanation, the man disappeared into the elevator, leaving them alone once more. Her gaze wandered to the overhead numbers lighting up as the elevator descended. What had happened in there? She had never freaked like that before, never felt so vulnerable.
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“Tell me what’s going on with you.” She didn’t need to look at him to know the tender side had vanished back under his usual detached demeanor, and she allowed herself a moment to mourn the loss. Then she squared her shoulders, buried the need to go back to how they’d been seconds ago, and spun on her heel. “I’ll see you at the debriefing.”
“How was your last assignment?” Braxton processed the question in the back of his mind, continuing to second-guess himself and whether he should have gone after Quinn. The creak of stiff leather and the patient—but nosey—therapist sitting across from him forced Brax’s thoughts back to the present. Away from how Quinn had clung to him, away from how much he’d realized he wanted to hold her. Kiss her. Tell her everything, including how much he wished things could be different. But they were…what they were. At any given moment they could be sent halfway across the globe, tracking down and vanquishing the Shadow Demons that opened the gateways between realms. There wasn’t time for relationships. He didn’t even want one. Probably in denial there, he mused silently. That didn’t change the fact that even though he and Quinn had one incredible night together, a night she didn’t remember, things could never be more than that. Even before his lapse in judgment the night she’d been infected by the lust demon, he knew the friends-with-benefits dynamic would never work between him and Quinn. Not even if he were willing to ignore his responsibilities, his commitment to Rae and his team. Gage and Jordan worked as a couple because they had a history before they became Destroyers. They also didn’t have the issue of seniority to complicate things. He didn’t have that luxury. Braxton shook his head to get away from the train of thought that had been grating him up inside. Even if either of them had wanted more than just sex, his job demanded
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his complete focus. And whenever Quinn got too close, his focus went right out the window. Not that any of that ultimately mattered. Not when Quinn had awakened the morning after her infection determined to make sure she hadn’t come on to him. Although she’d managed to keep the thin veil of panic from showing on her face or in her voice when she’d asked if anything happened, it had all but dominated the few strands of psychic energy that surrounded her. He’d run through the scenario dozens of times before she’d emerged that morning only to have all his arguments against getting involved dissolve at seeing her sleepy and confused face. For half a second he’d even foolishly contemplated giving things a shot— right up until she’d looked as though she’d be mortified to know something had happened between them. Denying that one of the most incredible nights of his life had happened took considerable more effort than he’d anticipated, but he couldn’t risk telling her the truth and having to see the regret in her eyes every time she looked at him. Regardless that he’d thought there had been a mutual attraction between them for months, the infection had affected her far more than he’d wanted to believe at the time. Now he felt like an even bigger bastard for taking advantage of her that night. Resigned to things being the way they were, he still cared and he couldn’t stop wondering what had snapped inside her when the elevator shut down. It was the same as when she woke with the restraints on her weeks ago. The same irrational panic that he never would have expected from Quinn. “Perhaps we should pick this up another time,” Royce Garrison, therapist extraordinaire, suggested. With his shiny graying brown hair, dark deep-set eyes and pursed mouth, he reminded Braxton of the first cousin to the weasel. The slim build and 5’5” height didn’t help either. Nor did the man’s choice of clothes. No one working for the network was struggling financially. Yet the man still wore clothes that looked like he shopped in the junior boys section. Braxton couldn’t look at Royce without hearing
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Quinn’s past jokes about the therapist looking like he was waiting for a flood with his too-short pants. “No.” Braxton wasn’t interested in coming back to stare at the same drab walls painted in vomit orange and pretend he was fine with Royce, who was also a telepath, trying to read him. He was far more comfortable sifting through another person’s thoughts than being pinned under the microscope himself. “How’s work in general lately?” “Lots of demons. Lots of paperwork. Pots full of stale coffee. The usual.” “No more stress than usual?” Braxton cocked his head. “Not really.” Not unless he counted Quinn, and seeing as how he made it a point not to bring her up—ever—things were just fine. “I know there’s been increasing concern over the possibility of moles in the network.” With a shrug, he glanced at his watch. “They pay Rae to worry about those details.” Another exaggeration. Until recent months Shadow Demons either hadn’t paid attention to or hadn’t cared about Destroyers. That was probably because as soon as a demon crossed paths with a Shadow Destroyer, its ass was toast. According to their database more and more demons were aware of their oldest enemy and now knew information no one outside the network had access to. With a small handful of Scions in hiding, none of the field offices, especially those in set locations near hot zones, liked knowing the bad guys were getting a little too technologically advanced for comfort. After a human had aligned herself with a Scion and had gone after Jordan and Gage, more intel had started emerging that linked human accomplices to sacrifices and the general discord trudged up by Shadow Demons wherever they went. As if the supernatural bastards weren’t enough to handle. Now every agent had to look over their shoulder, never knowing if a knife from the average human could be coming. He was thankful he trusted his own team. It was only when they crossed paths with agents from other field offices that he kept his guard up. More than a few people
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who carried the gene absorbed too much of the demon’s essence and wound up with a much darker side as a result. A side that ultimately couldn’t be trusted. By some small miracle, the remaining twenty minutes left in the session flew by and Braxton exited with a speed he was sure Quinn and Drew could appreciate. He liked coming home after assignments as much as any of them, but he wasn’t fond of the required follow-up chats with Royce. “So you survived another one-on-one with the good doctor, huh?” “It was a ball,” Braxton answered blandly. He couldn’t decide whether to head straight to the briefing room or look for Quinn. Gage took a drink from the stainless silver mug he carried. “He ask you about the mole angle too?” “Yeah.” “Think Rae put him up to that?” “Probably.” Rae liked knowing her agents’ states of mind whenever possible, along with anything else worth knowing. Hell, she’d probably known within seconds that he and Quinn had been trapped in the elevator. The fact that Quinn entered his mind again for the dozenth time in the last hour wasn’t unusual. Which was exactly why he’d fallen into the habit of steering clear of her. It was also why Braxton found himself falling into step with Gage as he headed toward the training room. His encounter with Quinn continued to occupy his thoughts. He couldn’t stop from wondering if he might have picked up on what had triggered both panic attacks if he hadn’t been so determined to forget the feel of her legs locked around his waist as he found the sweetest of release buried deep inside her. “You sure you didn’t leave your head in Mexico?” He glanced at Gage. “Sorry?” “You’re as weird as Quinn this morning. What happened in the elevator anyway?” “She told you about that?” Braxton asked, avoiding Gage’s question. “I heard bits and pieces a few minutes ago when she was tossing Jordan to the floor.”
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He arched a brow. “She got the drop on Jordan this time, did she?” Gage scowled. “Yeah, and do you know what that means?” Braxton couldn’t have held back his smile for all the demons on the continent. “It means she’ll be looking to drag my ass out on the training floor later today. Happens every goddamn time Quinn gets one in.” At the mention of the two women, he and Gage stopped and peered through the glass doors to the training room. It wasn’t surprising to see Drew parked on the bench across from the two women circling each other. No weapons littered the floor. Just plain old hand-to-hand for the two agents today. Quinn had pulled her hair back from her face and her eyes glittered with determination. She was fast, but Jordan bounced back faster from anything Quinn threw at her. The two made a regular habit of taking a spin on the training room mat. Not so long ago he and Quinn had had the same habit. Before he ignored his common sense and let his cock lead him. Their professional relationship had suffered for it, and she couldn’t even recall what had taken place between them. Had she known it all, he imagined things would be even more strained between them. Most days he felt bad enough for letting temptation get the best of him. He didn’t need her reminding him he was slime for taking advantage of her. Not that he didn’t deserve it. He probably deserved worse. “You sure things are cool between you two?” Gage asked with a practiced edge of disinterest. Gage had been asking that question a lot lately. “They’re fine.” “Jordan thinks you two should sleep with each other and get it over with.” If Braxton had been drinking coffee at that moment, he would have sputtered it all over the floor. “What?” “She thinks you guys have too much sexual tension simmering between you two.” “Good for Jordan.” “Is she right?”
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“Quinn and I work together. That’s it.” Braxton somehow managed not to crack his pinched jaw to get the words out. “You’re not doing yourself any favors by ignoring the bad vibes between you two.” “Bad vibes?” Brax rocked back on his heels. “I thought it was simmering sexual tension?” Gage leaned against the wall. “Jordan said there was sexual tension. All I see is that things have gone from occasionally annoying with you two to borderline dislike. It was bad enough having you two squabbling in my ear. I think the silence is even more deafening.” “You’re complaining because we’re not arguing enough for you?” “I just want to know why you guys went from driving each other up the wall to avoiding each other.” “I don’t avoid her.” Gage snorted. “It’s too bad your nose doesn’t grow a few inches when you spout that kind of bullshit.” The glass door was wrenched open. “One of you guys needs to take over. She’s killing me today.” Jordan planted her hands on her knees, her breathing labored. A dark bruise marred her cheek, and Braxton knew the mark wouldn’t even be there in another hour or so. Gage was already halfway down the hall. Jordan grinned at him. “I guess you’re my man.” He nodded to Drew. “I think you have another suitable replacement right there.” She straightened and blew out an impatient breath. “To quote Drew, ‘even I’m not in need of that kind of ass kickin’ today’.” He looked past Jordan and watched Quinn prowl the edge of the mats, clenching and unclenching a fist at her side. She lifted her head, and the anger in her gaze surprised him. As usual, any attempt to get beneath the barrier that shielded her thoughts got him nowhere.
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“That’ll just piss her off further,” Jordan said, guessing what he was up to. “But hey, your funeral.” Quinn disappeared through the swinging doors that led to the locker room. “I guess she’s letting you off the hook.” Jordan swatted at a damp clump of blond hair that stuck to her neck. “Guess I won’t be getting out of her what got her so worked up.” She passed a critical gaze over Braxton. He didn’t know whose perceptive looks were more annoying, hers or Gage’s. “Something’s going on with her,” Jordan spoke clearly in his mind. Having her open her thoughts put Braxton on guard for two reasons. One, she was only doing it so Quinn couldn’t eavesdrop even a little. And two, because the look on her face told her she expected him to do something about it. He shook his head. “She hasn’t said anything to me.” “Why would she, you’re hardly talking to her these days.” “Did she mention that?” He watched the locker room doors waiting for Quinn to reappear. “Like someone needs to point it out.” He stared at her expectantly. “You’re the only one who stands a hope in hell of dragging it out of her.” He cocked a brow. “She’s far more likely to open up to you.” “I don’t think she’s going to willingly open up to anyone.” Her implication was crystal clear. Find out the cheating way. Easier said than done with Quinn. “You’ll come up with something,” Jordan added with a wink and vanished back into the training room. Braxton scrubbed a hand over his face wondering exactly how many times Quinn had panicked in the last few months that he didn’t know about, and exactly what it would take to get her to open up about it.
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Chapter Two Quinn was the last one to file into the conference room, taking her time to keep the weight off her ankle. An hour later and it still burned like a bitch after landing the wrong way during her and Jordan’s sparring match. The second she stepped through the door, she felt Braxton’s gaze follow her like a heat-seeking missile. She met his intense expression dead-on knowing he wanted a peek at her thoughts. Badly. With a roll of her eyes, she dismissed his half-hearted attempt and deliberately sat at the far end of the table. With Drew in between them, and Gage and Jordan seated on the opposite side the table, there were plenty of other places he could focus his attention. His eyes never wavered from her. Once upon a time such a look would have meant one of two things. He was in disapproval mode and she’d pulled something he felt lacked serious judgment, or he needed someone to take his frustrations out on. Today it was different. Or maybe they were just different. Did it really matter? With each passing second the lengthy stare only made her think of the concern she’d read in his eyes when they were in the elevator together. She turned her head and caught the corner of his mouth twitching. She narrowed her eyes. Damn. He’d gotten a little glimmer. The devilish half grin he shot her—one she still found incredibly appealing— confirmed it. This morning had clearly thrown her for a loop. Even the sparring match hadn’t erased the nervous energy that hummed inside her. She needed a Shadow Demon. Someone who wouldn’t hold anything back, would go for the kill. Quinn tried ignoring Braxton and focused her attention on Rae, who stood at the head of the table, her attention fixed on her laptop. It was hard to remember that their boss had three times the demon slaying record of any of them. Everything from Rae’s pristine beige suit, tan pumps that made Quinn’s feet hurt to look at, perfectly manicured www.samhainpublishing.com
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nails and stylish French twist holding back her red hair gave the impression she was a boardroom shark. Not a woman whose custom sword collection—every one of them having severed a demon’s head at least once—would make the fiercest collector envious. Beside her Drew laid his head back and closed his eyes, his face tilted towards the ceiling. “Wake me when we get to the good part.” “What part would that be, Mr. Reid?” Drew straightened, but the dimple in his cheek flashed as he glanced at Rae. “The part where the meeting’s over and I can get some sleep.” “Rough night?” Rae crossed her arms. “I’m sorry we’re keeping you from your eye mask and bubbling brook bedtime CD.” “It helps me relax,” Drew said. “Plus chicks dig the music. Makes them think I’m the sensitive type.” “Now that you’ve enlightened us to your methods of nailing a chick, could we get back to the point of the meeting or perhaps you’d rather take a cat nap in the private quarters?” Drew’s brow furrowed, no doubt trying to figure out if she might actually be serious. Rae continued with a wave around the room. “I’m sure someone else could bring you up to speed on the progress regarding the moles in the network and the recent Scion threats. I’d hate to interfere with your beauty sleep.” “He’d need to be in a coma for years to make any improvement.” Drew shot Jordan a wounded look. Jordan grinned right back at him. “Anyone else have anything to get off their chest? Any other tried and true dating tips I should make note of?” She looked pointedly at Drew but addressed them as a group. Like elementary school kids caught talking too loud when the teacher left the room, they all suddenly found their notes rather interesting. Rae perched a hip on the edge of the table and pinned her glacier blue gaze squarely on Quinn. “Heard you two had a bumpy ride in the elevator this morning?” “Just an inconvenience,” she lied smoothly. But she was so taking the stairs down on
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the way out of here today. Braxton’s gaze all but ate through the back of her head. Rae nodded at Braxton as if to find confirmation of what Quinn said. “Not scary enough to make me take the stairs.” Quinn snapped her head in his direction. The granite look on his face slid carefully into place, but not before she caught the trace of worry in his eyes. “Let’s get this over with. Given the increased rates of temporal distortions opening more gateways, I’ve got new assignments for everyone.” Normally any assignment was an opportunity to see some part of the world Quinn likely hadn’t been to before, while getting to slay a few demons at the same time. But after the elevator ride this morning, she just wanted to go home and get her head on straight. Braxton was slipping in under the radar when normally the most subtle probe got shot down the second he pushed too hard to read her mind. The worst part was, he wasn’t the least bit apologetic about his gift, not that she could judge him. She used her heightened senses and speed in situations that had nothing to do with slaying the enemy and didn’t ever regret it. More often than not, she got a kick out of it, especially when it had involved pissing Braxton off. That didn’t mean she had to like it when the shoe was on the other foot. With a glare that set his mouth twitching again, she faced forward in her chair. Twice this morning he’d smiled at her. How long had it been since that happened last? Weeks probably. Maybe it was part of some new therapy assignment Royce occasionally tried to get them to work on. Quinn nearly groaned aloud. She still had her appointment with the head doctor before she was getting out of here today. “New safeguards have been implemented in the system to keep the enemy out,” Rae continued. “Since it is still unclear how much human influence is at work here and how many demons—or worse, Scions—are getting more hands-on with the technology, we can’t discount the possibility that darker magiks could make tracing the bastards harder.” “No success yet?” Braxton asked.
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“Only a few leads from a handful of the other field offices, but nothing solid so far.” Ever since Jordan’s brush with a human cooperating with a group of Shadow Demons in a chain of sacrifices, there were increasing reports of human involvement with demons. The bastards were getting trickier, using any and all methods to stay in this realm as long as they could. Rae planted her hands on the table. “I don’t need to tell any of you to watch your backs. In any situation you could find yourself face to face with a Scion.” In her two years as an agent Quinn had only come across a Scion once. Only a handful of them were believed to exist in this realm. Considering the amount of human emotion it took to keep master demons satisfied, it was a wonder they hadn’t gotten more leads before now. But the bastards hadn’t become master demons because they were stupid. Quinn registered the rest of the meeting in the back on her head, her mind going back to the scene in the elevator. Since stepping onto the training mat with Jordan, she’d been fighting to find a reason to explain what had set her off, made her panic. The nightmares? Had she dreamt she’d been trapped in an elevator and her subconscious mind had surfaced long enough to fuel the terror-driven adrenaline that had consumed her? Adrenaline that had slowed the second Braxton made her look at him. Why was it that her thoughts inevitably drifted to the last few seconds of being trapped in there? Braxton’s arms tight around her, his lips so close that she could have pushed up on her toes to taste the mouth she’d hungered for. “What are you doing for lunch?” She didn’t know whether to smile or frown at the voice in her head. She glanced over at Braxton, but he pretended to be lost in what Rae was saying. Wondering if he’d managed to get a hold on her thoughts in the last few minutes, she waited for him to look at her. He didn’t. “My treat,” he added. They hadn’t gone to lunch alone together in weeks. Was he feeling sorry for her? No. He wanted to know what set her off. She should be flattered that he cared, but with
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Braxton it had to be more about the team. How many times had she heard him mention that it only takes one weak link to threaten a team in the field? He would assume any weakness in her could threaten them all, threaten success on assignment, and no doubt he figured some quiet time together might give him an opportunity to probe a bit. Not gonna be today. “What if I throw in a beer?” She waited until he finally looked at her, and shook her head. Purposely projecting her thoughts to Braxton would give him an opening to get a deeper look at where her mind had been moments ago. She’d rather have three shrinks trying to poke around in her head than him. Quinn half expected him to press, but with a tip of his head in acknowledgment, he listened to Rae as she told them all where they were headed. Not until Rae stopped talking did Quinn realize Rae hadn’t given her an assignment. “What about me?” “You haven’t been cleared by Royce yet.” Quinn rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue. It would only be a waste of breath where Rae was concerned. Protocol was protocol. If she didn’t know better she’d think Rae and Braxton took turns sleeping with the same rule book under their pillows, while she preferred her daggers. She trusted those pretty shiny pieces of metal—affectionately dubbed Slice and Dice—to save her ass more than any rule book. Knowing she had to get it over with, she left the conference room ahead of the others and made her way to Royce’s office. Better to get the head examination over with sooner rather than later.
“Braxton, hold up for a minute.” Only the fact that Rae was the boss stopped him from trailing after Quinn. Maybe the lunch thing hadn’t been his best play. She hadn’t even let him hear her refusal, probably didn’t trust him. He hadn’t figured on sneaking in that time anyway, not with any real
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hope of getting a fix on what was going through her head. He couldn’t blame her for not opening the door and inviting him in, and he sure as hell hadn’t given her many reasons to lately. “What happened in the elevator this morning?” Rae’s fingers slid over the keys of her laptop. She could pretend to be absorbed in what she was doing all she wanted, but Braxton knew she wouldn’t be asking him without Quinn in the room if she didn’t feel the subject warranted more discussion. He flipped through the folder on top of the pile he carried, as equally unconcerned as she was pretending to be. “Didn’t we cover that already?” She straightened and crossed her arms. “The maintenance guy said you two looked a little cozy in there.” “It’s not what you’re thinking,” he answered, then cringed inwardly as he realized how guilty that sounded. “What am I thinking?” She perched on the edge of the desk, a lioness playing with it prey before it decided whether or not to pounce. The look on her face was too schooled to read, and he didn’t even try pushing with her for a glimmer of where she was headed with this discussion. The last time he tried that, as undetectable as he could be at his best, he found himself as her sparring partner for two weeks. He was pretty sure he still had scars. How much easier it would be if Rae and the rest of the agents didn’t have the ability to potentially sense him reading their thoughts, unlike the average person. “The maintenance guy likely just misinterpreted.” “How so?” He wasn’t sure if it would be worse to make it seem like he was covering for a stolen moment between lovers, or telling her the truth about Quinn’s panic attack. Jordan would have his ass for going to Rae before he had any idea what was up with Quinn. He wasn’t about to hide anything, but since he wasn’t even sure what had really happened in there it wouldn’t be worth getting Rae concerned over nothing. “I got on Quinn’s nerves this morning and she was ready to take out her frustration
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in there instead of in the training room.” The slow press of her mouth told him Rae didn’t believe a damn word. “Royce has been concerned about Quinn.” Royce got concerned when it looked like it was going to rain out, but Braxton didn’t share that particular opinion about the good doctor. “Because of something Quinn’s confided?” “It’s more what she’s not saying I think. Has she spoken to you about anything out of the ordinary, any problems?” At least there he could be perfectly honest. “Not a thing.” She nodded slowly, turned and closed her laptop, and tidied the few loose sheets of printouts. “I’ve noticed some tension between you two. Should I be worried?” “Not at all.” He hadn’t busted his ass to keep his distance from Quinn to have the effort make things even more uncomfortable for everyone. It had been easier to steer clear of Quinn than have to face her knowing the truth. A truth he’d always believed would cause the very same awkward relationship he’d stuck them with in trying to act as though nothing happened. That hadn’t been part of the plan, and looking at it now he realized just what his own idiotic behavior had cost them. Like it or not, he and Quinn needed to talk about more than just what happened in the elevator. Not a conversation he was looking forward to. He just had to get her to talk to him first. With her turning him down for lunch, he knew she wasn’t going to make talking to him a priority or even a consideration. Too bad he wasn’t going to sit back and give her the space he’d been happy to offer up for weeks now. Expecting the usual, “If anything comes up, let me know,” Braxton was surprised when Rae said, “Don’t be too hard on her.” For a moment he thought he heard disapproval in her voice, but before he could pinpoint if it had to do with them in the elevator or him giving Quinn the cold shoulder, Rae sailed past him. Her confident strides clicked out a dire warning for anyone not smart enough to read between the heel taps. Rae was forever a force to be reckoned with and never one to underestimate.
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Frowning, he waited until the sound of her brisk steps faded down the hall, then left through the side door, hoping to catch Quinn before she reached Royce’s office. The door to the shrink’s outer office was open, and Quinn stared unseeing at one of the blurry watercolors Royce had up on the wall. “How about dinner then?” She didn’t take her eyes off the painting. “I have plans.” He leaned against the jamb. “You wouldn’t be avoiding me, would you?” “The same way you’ve been dodging me for the last two months?” “You still need to eat.” There was no point in denying what they both knew was the truth. And pathetically all it took was the time in the elevator to prove to him how flawed his plan was. Mostly because staying away hadn’t done a damn thing to lessen his desire for her. “Worried I’m not getting all my vitamins?” “I just think it wouldn’t hurt to share a meal and just…talk.” Her brows scrunched together as she spared him a glance. “Talk? As in that thing where words come from each other’s mouths. Questions, comments, sarcasm and the like?” “That would be a fairly accurate description.” She went back to staring at the painting. “I’m not interested in a one-sided conversation, so I’ll pass, thanks.” “Who said anything about it being one-sided? Apart from when I stop to put food in my mouth, naturally.” Quinn sighed, and he sensed she was contemplating giving in. “All set?” Royce edged past him, the coffee in the mug he carried sloshing precariously over the rim. He glanced at Braxton, offered the customary professional smile, but one that revealed his surprise at finding Braxton there. “Need another tête à tête, Agent Murphy?” “Rain-check, Doc. Find me later,” Braxton said to Quinn before she followed Royce inside without comment.
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A waste of breath. Her nodding in agreement would have been as surprising as her reaching out to jerk loose the seam of Royce’s pants that looked to be riding up the shrink’s ass. Braxton contemplated parking his butt in the waiting area until the session ended, but Quinn would hear him out here, and would likely emerge ready to chew him a new one for it. Better to make use of the bit of time he had before he headed out for assignment by attacking some of the paperwork he was supposed to have finished when he came in this morning. He’d made a pitiful attempt at it, but there hadn’t been much time before his own appointment with Royce that morning. And his attention kept returning to the memory of Quinn’s body tucked against him, her breasts warm against his chest, her heart racing. At this rate he wouldn’t be getting any paperwork done even now. Maybe a spin in the training room would help him focus. Let him work off whatever the tightness in his gut was. Concern for Quinn? Or just recognition that his decision to let her believe nothing happened between them had been the wrong one? He scrubbed a hand over his face and turned back down the hall towards the training room. Now, where the hell was Drew hiding?
“Up for some relaxation techniques today?” “No.” Quinn didn’t slouch into the leather sofa, as was her usual habit. She was too keyed up, her heel tapping furiously on the floor. “Any more nightmares?” When she didn’t answer right away he continued. “One last night then?” “Yeah.” “Any more details this time?” With a deep breath, she tried to reel in the images that continued to blur into the background of her memory. “Not really.”
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“I heard about this morning.” “I didn’t realize that elevator mishaps were worthy of a memo to staff.” Royce chuckled in that preschool teacher way of his. “They’re not usually, no.” “Braxton and I managed to pass the short time we were in there.” Forced to recall her stint in the dark, she felt her throat tighten. “How are things between the two of you?” “Fine.” He nodded. “I’ve never seen him in here waiting for you before.” “He wasn’t waiting.” He nodded again, and she felt the little pressure that indicated someone was trying to push at the mental barriers that kept everyone, especially the telepaths, out of her head. “You’re usually much smoother than that, Doc.” With thoughts of Braxton teasing the corners of her mind, she was even more determined to keep Royce out of her head. Just because Royce’s ability to read thoughts might make his job a smidge easier, didn’t mean Quinn had to concede to it. The higher-ups demanded these regular sessions and so she tolerated them. Two months ago, when the most she had to talk about was a demon getting a sucker punch in, she didn’t hate sitting here so much. “You’re more tight-lipped than usual, Quinn. Out of all the agents here, you’ve always been the hardest to get a handle on.” “Always keep them guessing.” “Keep who guessing?” She shrugged, and glanced at her watch. Another twenty minutes to go. “How about we just talk about your last assignment?” Quinn nodded and felt some of the tension drain from her spine, relieved he was letting the elevator subject drop. It was far easier to talk about the last demon’s head she had severed than to explain why she was dreaming the things she was, or why she’d flipped out in the elevator. Sometimes it was just safer to stick with the familiar and pretend the other stuff didn’t matter so much. Even if it was tearing her apart inside, one piece at a time.
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She was starved. There wasn’t anything in the fridge—nothing worth touching anyway. She needed groceries. Instead she dialed for a pizza and snapped up the latest season of Dawson’s Creek that she’d picked up on DVD. Nothing like a few hours of teenage purple prose and melodrama to unwind from one hell of a day. And thank God she still had beer in the fridge. She poured one in a glass and headed for the tub with the intention of a quick soak before the delivery guy arrived. While she waited for the tub to fill, she dialed her twin sister and left a short message for Cass to call her back when she got in. Overhead the married couple that still hadn’t clued into the fact they needed a divorce started going at it again—the third time in the last fifteen minutes. Tuning out their pissed-off voices, Quinn focused on the classical music playing on the floor below hers. Her next day off she really was going to make that appointment about applying for a mortgage. She needed space, a place at the edge of town like Braxton had where the most excitement she’d hear at night would be the song of dozens of…crickets. Maybe the divorced couple wasn’t really so bad. By the time she got out of the tub and changed into her favorite pair of jeans and a hot pink T-shirt, the pizza guy hit the door intercom. “The usual, Quinn.” She handed him a twenty when he made his way up to her apartment door, then waved off the change. “See you next time.” An hour and four slices of pizza later, she stared mindlessly at the television, her attention occasionally drifting to Mr. Murphy swimming circles in his goldfish bowl on the corner shelf. She wondered if Braxton would be amused that she’d named her twelfth goldfish after him. She smiled, her eyes feeling heavy. Only when her body jolted from sleep, a familiar nightmare hovering in the back of her mind, did she realize she’d drifted off. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, as if to erase
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the blurred images she couldn’t see clearly, but didn’t want to have to face anyway. Almost midnight. She was set to leave for assignment to track down a mimic demon with Braxton in the morning. She certainly wasn’t looking forward to being trapped with him on a plane for even a few minutes—forget hours—and couldn’t imagine what inspired Rae to pair them together after assigning them separate destinations for the better part of the last two months. She glanced down the hall, deciding it wasn’t worth trying to sleep just yet. Not with the nightmares waiting for her to drop into a deep sleep so they could strike. Instead she retrieved her daggers from the island in the kitchen, and after strapping them to her thighs, tied a sweater at her waist to hide them. She wasn’t expecting to find any demons skulking in her favorite local hunting ground tonight. She wouldn’t be that lucky. Not to mention temporal activity had been null in the area lately, which unfortunately meant zero new gateway openings. Still, the air and a walk might do her good. Maybe if she tired herself out she’d be too exhausted to dream at all. On the way home from the ten block radius she often circled when she was too keyed up to sleep, she got lucky. The low timber of the voice, the way it rattled distinctly over the voice box brought her up short. She shook her head. The demon would just have to be in Jake’s. The western bar wasn’t her favorite hangout, and seeing as how one of the bartenders never failed to make a big deal whenever she poked her head in there, stopping tonight would be an inconvenience. It wasn’t her fault that a war demon had once started a fight inside just to “feel” the raw aggressive emotions and violence that came with a good bar brawl. And she certainly hadn’t expected to become a legend of sorts for putting the hostile’s head through a jukebox before taking the fight outside to finish the job more discreetly. Maybe she’d get lucky and Wally wouldn’t be working. She couldn’t walk away when the Shadow Demon inside could do more damage to an innocent if she even thought to turn a blind eye. She never had, and she wasn’t about to make tonight the exception.
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Inside, smoke floated on the warm air and Shania Twain was belting out what didn’t impress her much as Quinn was waved past one of the bouncers she knew. Her eyesight didn’t need any time to adjust to the dim light, her gaze immediately sliding through the crowd to pinpoint what she was looking for. A female—blonde and wearing a crimson bustier and painted-on black leather pants—was perched on the edge of a stool, sandwiched between two burly men. Quinn cocked her head, identifying the human-looking hostile as a telepath demon. She groaned. She was damn sick of the mind readers. The ringing of a bell brought Quinn’s head up. Fuck it all. “If it isn’t the ball buster come to pay us a visit. Who’s buying Quinn the first round?” More than a few Stetsons hit the air. Quinn was careful not to meet the telepath demon’s gaze, but felt the creature’s attention remain fixed on her nonetheless. As Wally came round the bar, she took advantage of meeting him halfway to get closer to the blonde. “Where have you been hiding, Quinnie?” She cringed at the nickname, but didn’t bother to correct him. Wally was the type to use it again just to drive her nuts, and she liked him well enough not to tempt herself to hurt the man. Instead she let the nickname roll off her back and lifted her gaze from the alcohol stained wood floor. The telepath demon stared at her intently. Probably trying to get a read on her. Fat chance. “The kitchen is closed, but if you’re looking for a few munchies, I’m sure I can find something out back.” “No thanks,” she said to Wally, but watched the demon from the corner of her eye. The hostile smiled at the men on either side of it and nodded towards the back, towards the ladies room. “Hold that thought,” Quinn said, and maneuvered around Wally towards the rear of the bar. A man wearing a Stetson that looked barely an hour old, with equally new
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cowboy boots—and probably matching chaps at home—stepped in front of her. “How about letting me buy you a drink?” Quinn smiled at him sweetly. “Sure, cowboy. How about a nice Piña Colada and I’ll be right back. Have to tinkle.” He smiled and winked conspiratorially. “You may want to try the men’s room. I’ve heard a couple women bitching about the ladies’ toilets backing up tonight.” “Thanks for the tip.” Rolling her eyes, she left him behind. She wasn’t sure she’d ever understand the appeal of a cowboy, or maybe she just needed to meet a real one and not a wannabe. At the end of the hall, Quinn spotted the telepath demon. “Hold up a second.” The blonde hesitated, tried reading her again. Its perfectly feminine eyes narrowed. “I don’t do women.” Quinn couldn’t help herself. She burst out laughing. The sound of a muffled thump from the storage closet was rather sobering however. She shook her head. “Just once it would be nice to meet one of you guys when you haven’t or weren’t about to hurt someone.” The demon frowned. “Let me clarify.” Quinn tugged her sweater aside, showing off Slice, followed by his best friend. “One Piña Colada for the lady.” Cowboy’s voice echoed up the hall. Through clenched teeth, Quinn answered. “I’ll be right there.” The demon took advantage of the extra set of human eyes, no doubt hoping Quinn wasn’t about to make a scene, and darted towards the kitchen. Too bad the demon didn’t know her very well. Quinn grinned. Damn, but she liked it when they ran. Made it more fun to catch them. Few demons ever put their hands up in surrender, but anything that dragged the fight out for a few minutes made the exertion worth it in the end. She took off after the demon, was within arm’s reach in the kitchen when the bitch toppled a shelving unit holding pots and pans. Wally wasn’t going to appreciate the mess,
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but what was one kitchen disaster on the legendary ball buster’s record? With a mournful snort for missing the look on the bartender’s face when he spotted the kitchen, she tore after the demon. Cool night air hit Quinn’s face as she kicked the last pot out of her way and darted into the back parking lot. She turned around, scanning the rows of parked cars until she spotted a shadowed figure sprinting towards the edge of small wooded area that separated the bar from a residential neighborhood. Quinn cut the demon off. The hostile might have been farther ahead than she would have given the demon credit for, but jogging time was over. The sharp pressure in her head caught Quinn unaware. She blinked through the pain that unfolded in her head, then lashed out with a dagger clenched in her fist. On the defense, the demon wasn’t able to push through her thoughts so easily, or so violently. She could only guess that given today and coupled with her recent nightmares, it was easier for the creature to shove its way inside Quinn’s head. “Someone afraid of the dark?” The demon taunted, the hissing undercurrent a dead giveaway to the evil that lurked in the purely manifested human body. Quinn was really going to enjoy separating the demon essence from its pod person and vanquishing the sucker. She moved low, knocking the Shadow Demon’s legs out from under it. The blonde scrambled to its feet, getting in a solid blow in the process. The amateurish swing still packed considerable punch, snapping Quinn’s face to the right. Blood leaked at the corner of her mouth. She really hated the taste of blood. An image from her nightmares shot to the forefront. Dark. Her hands bound… The psychological sneak attack was followed up with a kick Quinn was too distracted to dodge. The impact knocked her into a red sedan. Pain radiated up her back. She climbed to her feet and circled the demon, pushing every spare brain cell into keeping the demon out of her head. Unlike the telepathic Destroyers, telepath Shadow Demons were a little more proficient at getting inside her mind. But none before this one had claimed a victory, and tonight was not going to be the start of a new trend.
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The demon was mentally ready but still physically at a disadvantage against Quinn’s speed and training. A well-placed punch to the solar plexus and another one that jammed the hostile’s head back exposed its weakest point. The neck. Stay hidden, Quinn. Whatever you do, don’t come out. The memory of her mother’s voice sliced through her heart with a clarity she hadn’t felt since her parent’s death six years ago. And it was enough to freeze her feet to the ground. The demon grinned at Quinn, and smashed its fist in her face. Quinn staggered, but managed to catch the telepath across the belly as she struggled to stay upright. It hissed, cursing her in its ancient language. The look of concentration on the creature’s face warned Quinn another mental blow was coming. Cries. Pitiful, heart-wrenching cries. Her mother’s. With a cry fueled by frustration and anger, Quinn slashed out—and overcompensated. The voices in her head drowned out her own senses that warned that the demon had sidestepped to escape the coming blow. A strike to her back pitched Quinn forward. Her head struck the front fender of another car, and her vision turned grainy. She sensed the next attack and rolled to the side as the demon’s foot struck the fender. Quinn was back on her feet, but not in enough time to deliver the killing blow. A clean slice of another’s sword severed the demon’s head from its manifested, bloodless body. Stunned, Quinn watched as the blue flames brought on by an ancient chant vanquished the demon. As the icy flames faded, taking with it all evidence of the demon, Quinn slowly lifted her head and stared straight into Braxton’s eyes.
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Chapter Three “You okay?” Quinn stared at the ground where the demon had fallen. A day’s worth of events that made her feel like she was losing the tenuous grip on her mind snapped inside her. “What the hell were you doing?” “Saving your ass.” “I was fine,” she snapped. “It didn’t look that way to me.” Any other time Braxton taking out a demon would have felt like he was doing his job. Tonight was different. That demon had been inside her head, twisting the voices to get to her. Had tried to use her dead mother to distract her. “You were letting it in, weren’t you?” His voice was both chastising and almost envious the hostile was capable of such a feat. Quinn picked up one of the daggers she’d dropped when her face met the car. As the adrenaline rush dissipated, she became increasingly aware of the throbbing in her jaw and back. “You took a good one to the face.” He lifted a hand to tip her chin back, but her glare stopped him midway. “I had it.” “I wasn’t going to wait until the thing got a hold of one of your daggers to be sure about that.” She couldn’t even drum up enough enthusiasm to continue the argument. Not when her mother’s voice continued to resonate in the back of her mind. Stay hidden, Quinn. Whatever you do, don’t come out. “What’s wrong?” He stared hard into her eyes, and she felt him trying to reach. “I’m fine.” With her mind still so fragile from the last assault, she knew it would be www.samhainpublishing.com
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far too easy for him to slip in under the radar if she didn’t get some distance between them. “So you keep saying.” “Well maybe if I get it tattooed on my forehead, then people will get the point.” He stalked after her. “Or maybe if you just tell someone what’s going on with you, it will save us the trouble from worrying.” “And who’s worried? Rae? Gage and Jordan?” She knew Royce might have shared any concerns he had with Rae without going into details. Since Rae hadn’t commented when she gave Quinn the next assignment after her session, she figured she was in the clear. “All of us,” Braxton said. She stopped in her tracks, wondering what the others had been saying about her. “I love how you tossed yourself into the mix. I’m touched, really.” She threw in a sniffle purely because it would piss him off. She had more than enough anger eating a hole through her chest to go around. Most of it directed at herself for letting the damn demon in her head, for letting it make her vulnerable. Braxton sidestepped her. “Don’t blow this off.” “There’s nothing for you or anyone else to worry about.” “And living in denial won’t get you anywhere.” “And looking for problems in places where there aren’t any won’t get you anywhere.” She shouldered past him. “Why were you hiding?” His question brought her to a standstill, and her heart gave a vicious kick to her ribs. “You were scared,” he added, gently. “Your mother was too.” “Stay the fuck out of my head, Braxton.” She knew she wasn’t in any state to keep him from poking around in there, and the last thing she needed right now were more reminders of the ghosts the demon stirred up. She had no clue how it managed to make the voices, the words, seem so real. Quinn strode out of the parking lot, ignoring Wally who called from the front of the
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bar as she rounded the corner on the main sidewalk. Braxton kept after her. “Talk to me, damn it.” “There’s nothing to say. Go home.” It was impossible to focus on getting herself centered, her mind sealed, with him almost clipping the back of her heels with his equally determined strides. She never needed to force herself to let go of any anger when it came to demon confrontations. Not since she’d been rookie agent. It had never been a problem for her to leave her emotions at the door when it came to demon slaying. Agents who allowed emotional highs and lows to guide their actions during a fight left themselves open to having those same emotions, especially the negative ones, exploited by the enemy. Demons weren’t easy to kill to begin with, and letting them feed off any strong feelings only gave them more of an edge. A lesson every Destroyer learned early on, one that could make the difference between coming out of any confrontation as the loser or the victor. It was routine to dump all the emotional baggage before picking up a sword or daggers to get the job done. All except the sheer pleasure she took in vanquishing another predator. That just screwed with their heads. They weren’t all that big on the warm fuzzy emotions, and her genuine smiles during a fight never failed to elicit a fair amount of irritation on the demon’s part. But tonight, routine wasn’t working. Tonight she couldn’t shake the tension that bit into her skin like shards of ice that twisted deeper with every attempt to clear her thoughts. She needed calmness, focus. Needed to find out what crevice in her brain the telepath demon had dug through to find what it had. Anger continued to pulse through her bloodstream like a rising river ready to trigger a flash flood. She hadn’t been able to find pleasure in even slaying the telepath demon. Braxton had denied her that too tonight. “I don’t need an escort,” she managed when she trusted herself to speak without taking his head off. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s eating at you.”
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She didn’t waste another breath to tell him nothing was wrong. The little glimpse in her head a few minutes ago had already told him something was bothering her, even if he didn’t know what it was. Hell, she didn’t know what it was. The nightmares, the panic in the elevator, the sound of her mother’s fear. The last one didn’t even make any sense. Had the demon merely tapped into something she’d dreamed about to pull her mother’s voice out like that? Could they do that or were they only able to get a hold on current thoughts or past memories? The ache in her face spread up and across her temples as she tried to put the pieces together in her mind. At the door to her apartment building, Quinn stopped. “I’m not inviting you in if that’s what you’re thinking.” “Then I’ll be camped outside your door until you tell me what’s going on.” “I’m not letting you into the building.” He shrugged. “Someone will.” “You’re not supposed to plant any suggestions in an innocent’s mind.” She’d seen him do it when it suited his purpose on assignment, but doing it to slay demons wasn’t the same as this. “I don’t feel like playing fair tonight.” “Damn it, Braxton.” He grinned, but leaned against the wall, looking ready to settle in and wait for some poor sap with zero willpower to let him in. “Fine.” She shoved her key into the outer door, thinking to throw him for a loop by doing the opposite of what he expected. “If you want to come in and stare at my four walls all night, knock yourself out. I have nothing to talk about and no plans but to fall into bed and sleep until my alarm goes off. But if it makes you feel better to watch me while you sit and stew for hours, by all means come on in.” She didn’t wait to see if he caught the door behind her. She already suspected he wasn’t going to back down. If he honestly thought she was going to talk about any of this, he was deluding himself. At least she’d be the one getting some sleep before they
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left for the airport. She was even tempted to call Jordan just to place a bet on how long Braxton would stick around. Of course she couldn’t recall a time when she’d seen him be this stubborn before, and she certainly wasn’t in the mood to cover new territory with the man—not when her face still ached and she was no doubt sporting a spectacular bruise. Quinn tossed her keys on the counter, kicking off her shoes as she went. Braxton shut the door to her apartment, but didn’t move past the kitchen as though he hadn’t fully thought his plan through. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and gestured to a second one for him. He shook his head. “I’m taking a shower.” Serious brows crashed together. “And no you can’t come,” she said, the once teasing comment lost in the heavy edge of sarcasm. He didn’t seem to notice. This was only one of a handful of times Braxton had ever set foot in her apartment. She would have rather it have been under better circumstances, like the times she’d wished he’d stop by with nothing on his mind but coaxing her into bed. Every now and then it had crossed her mind to make it perfectly clear how deep her attraction to the man ran. After the last couple months of wondering if coming on too strong when she’d been infected had been such a turn off for him, she was glad she’d never pushed for more. She sighed, almost preferring to welcome the old desires than to fixate on the recent string of emotional upheaval. Because he suddenly looked a little too good perched on the edge of the stool at the breakfast bar, she headed down the hall to the bathroom. Quinn kept the shower brief, and the sense of déjà vu from that morning loosened a bitter laugh within her. A glance at the clock as she yanked on a pair of sleep pants and T-shirt from her drawer told her it was after one in the morning. They were leaving on a flight at seven. Running her fingers through her damp hair, she found Braxton shoving the remains
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of a slice of pizza into his mouth. He’d also helped himself to a bottle of beer. Quinn pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Isn’t drinking on weeknights against one of your rules?” He picked it up and took a long chug. She watched his throat work to swallow the liquid, felt a familiar stirring in her belly when he set the beer aside and turned the full intensity of his amber gaze on her. “I’m going to bed,” she announced. “Couch is lumpy. Or you could always…I dunno…go home.” He leaned forward on the breakfast bar and propped his chin in his hand. “Or you could…I dunno…spill your guts.” “Wow. You’re real good at this shoulder-to-cry-on thing.” Despite the sarcasm that dripped from her words, he smiled. “I’ve been known to have that effect on a few people. People take one look at me and are inspired to impart their deepest secrets.” Quinn snorted. He cocked his head, his gaze seeming to touch her everywhere though it never moved from her face. “Besides, I don’t recall you having any problem using my shoulder in the elevator this morning.” She spun around and stalked back down the hall. “Wait!” She heard him come after her and moved out of reach before he grabbed a hold of her. Instead she ended up turning into him sharply to avoid the wall. The playful confide-in-me expression vanished from his face. “You almost lost it in the elevator this morning. Why?” “Why do you care? You never answered me this morning. Never explained why the hell you’ve been steering clear of me for weeks. And now you suddenly want to be my friend, and I’m just supposed to open up?” “Would you open up even if I hadn’t been avoiding you?” “You finally admit it.”
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He ignored the dig. “Something freaked you out. I’ve never seen you that way, the fear in your eyes.” He ducked his head to meet her gaze when she suddenly found the ground easier to look at. The tenderness in his gaze pulled at her. “Talk to me, Quinn. Please.” She briefly closed her eyes at the lull in his voice. The same one he’d used in the elevator that morning. The one that made her want to trust him to help chase back the darkness she felt hovering every time she went to sleep, every time she now heard her mother’s voice whisper across her memory. Quinn released a shaky breath and lifted a hand to straighten the undone button on Braxton’s shirt. Anything so she wouldn’t have to answer him just yet. He caught her hand, his thumb sweeping back and forth across her skin. “Tell me.” She didn’t take her eyes off him as he moved in, wanting to lean into him, slip her arms around his neck as she’d done this morning. Not because she really wanted to tell him any more than she had, but she ached for that closeness with someone. A moment where there was someone else to cling to when the ground felt ready to fall out from beneath her. “I’ve been having these nightmares.” She exhaled sharply, both in relief and expectation. How much of an explanation was he looking for? How much was she willing to share when she didn’t know if he’d go back to playing the distant Destroyer again tomorrow? “About what?” Images and sounds flashed through her mind, distorted and garbled. She swallowed past the nest of panic thickening in her throat. She couldn’t do this now. Couldn’t talk about it. Quinn closed her eyes, fighting not to be pulled under by the foggy pictures playing in both fast-forward and reverse in her head. “It’s okay,” Braxton murmured against her temple. She didn’t remember looping her arms around his neck, but they were there now, holding onto him the way she had in the elevator. “It’s not okay. We’re not okay. I…I
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don’t even know what we are anymore.” “Complicated?” he offered, his hands spanning her lower back and drifting down to her hips. His thumb massaged her skin, and she bit her lip at the burst of warmth that scrolled up her spine. “I don’t want to talk, Brax.” His hands edged beneath the hem of her T-shirt. “I know.” The brush of his fingers along her abdomen unleashed a torrent of bone-deep need. “Then why are you still here?” “Because I’m an idiot.” The harsh confession surprised her. Quinn tipped her face back. “Wow, you really know the right things to say to a girl.” Her attempt to keep things light died the second she glimpsed the raw determination in Braxton’s eyes. The back of his hand brushed the underside of her breast. “Why are you—” His thumb circled her nipple, and she inhaled sharply. “An idiot?” he repeated. The sound of his rapid-fire pulse echoed like cannon rounds in her head. “Because I keep telling myself this is a bad idea.” “It is?” It sounded like a damn fine idea to her. The warming ache deep between her thighs thumped in delicious anticipation of just how fine it could be. “I don’t know anymore. I thought…” He boldly cupped her breast, his palm hot against her skin. “Damn it, I can’t think straight this close.” Because he sounded ready to back away, Quinn rocked up and slanted her mouth across his. His arms snapped around her, and he groaned against her mouth, his tongue sliding in to meet hers. A hundred times she’d kissed him in her dreams—some far more real than others— but never once has she anticipated the possessive edge to the kiss. One that vowed she’d never forget it. And she never wanted to. Not when his mouth, the potent stroke of his tongue, teased along her senses until everything about him overwhelmed her. Braxton jerked her shirt up, his lips snaring her nipple. The wet suction of his mouth
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competed with the soft tugging of his fingers at her other breast. She moaned at the sharp pull of release that shimmered deep in her sex. She clamped her legs together only to have Brax wedge his thigh between them, nestling his muscled flesh hard against her. Quinn cried out, unable to stop from rocking against him where she needed to feel the tantalizing friction the most. Braxton grunted in approval, dragging the flat of his tongue across her other nipple before his hands worked to pull her pants down. He greedily kneaded her ass before trailing back over to her hip. “Tell me not to stop,” he growled, feasting at her throat, his unshaven jaw a scraping contrast to the wet heat of his mouth. “If you stop, you’re a dead man.” He parted her slick folds, not commenting on how damp she already was. Without warning, he plunged a finger into her sex. Then two. Quinn trapped his face in her hands, hauling him back to her mouth. She didn’t know how it was possible to want someone as desperately as she craved Braxton. Craved the hard arousal digging into her hip to fill her completely. He stripped off her pants and pulled her thigh up to hug his, opening her further. With more room, he lightly swirled the pad of his thumb across her clit. She whimpered against his mouth. The phone rang. “Let the machine get it.” She smiled against his lips. Until today she hadn’t realized how long it had been since Braxton had skipped actual speaking and projected his thoughts right into her mind. It felt familiar, reassuring—and right now—just a little bit arousing. The phone continued to ring. Her brief recorded intro came over the speaker as the answering machine speaker clicked on. “Quinn pick up. I’m in trouble. Someone’s in the house. I think I’m being followed. The police haven’t believed me. I should have called you sooner, I know.” Cass? Quinn bolted for the phone.
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Splintering wood crackled over the line. “Shit. Quinn!” The sound of the phone clattering across a floor pushed Quinn’s heart into her throat as she hit the talk button on the cordless. “Cass?” More shuffling from the other end. A muffled whimper. Then the line went dead.
“Have you heard from her?” Braxton pushed back from his desk, snapped off his computer monitor with a stab of his finger. “Not yet.” Jordan perched on the edge of his desk, her head bowed thoughtfully. “Did she say anything?” This was the third time Jordan had asked him to tell her exactly what had happened. He knew it was out of concern for Quinn that she continued to bring it up, so he only shook his head. If he wasn’t also worried about the fact that Quinn hadn’t checked in, he’d be pissed that she took off on him. During the brief moment Quinn’s guard had dropped and fear for her sister stormed through him, he understood the dynamic. She rarely mentioned Cass anymore, but he knew Quinn cherished her sister. A year ago he probably knew as much of what was happening in Cass’s life as he did Quinn’s. But things had changed there, as they had in about every aspect of his and Quinn’s relationship. And there was no one to blame for that but himself. The way she had eagerly welcomed his touch last night made him question why he’d convinced himself Quinn would have regretted being intimate with him. After the call from Cass, Quinn had been ready to tear out the door and fly across the country to some small town to find out what had happened to her sister. He’d foolishly thought he got through to her, having convinced her to call the local police first and have them send someone over, and that they could go from there. While she calmly agreed and asked him to call directory assistance for the local authority’s office, she’d changed and slipped out the door in less time than it would have
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taken him to have a piss. He would have gone with her, assuming Rae cleared it for him. All she had to do was hang in there a few minutes and let him help her. Instead she bolted, wanting to handle it herself. Why did the woman have to be so goddamn impulsive all the time? “I just heard about Quinn taking off. I hope her sister is okay.” Jordan frowned. “How did you hear about that already?” Drew rolled his eyes as he stepped up next to Braxton’s desk. “I could hear you guys talking from the elevator.” He dropped his bag on the floor. With a push from the top of the desk that sent a folder flying—which Drew caught and replaced in a blink—Jordan’s feet hit the floor. “I thought you were headed out an hour ago?” “I was. Rae called and said there might be some change in assignments, and to stop in here first.” Most likely because Braxton and Quinn’s assignment was on hold. Another European field office had sent Destroyers to track down the mimic demon causing havoc. While all the hot zones had round-the-clock Shadow Destroyers stationed in those areas, it was freelance field offices like theirs that took care of the demons that popped up sporadically. Gage came down the hall, skimming printouts. “There was a distortion last evening two counties over. You guys come across any of our favorite hostiles lately?” Braxton nodded. “Took out a telepath demon last night.” “Where?” “Outside Jake’s.” “Glad it was you,” Jordan said. “Another few blocks to the east and Gage would have made me leave the movie theatre once we felt it.” Not only did Gage and Jordan both heal quickly, but their common war demon essence gave them the ability to hone in on all other types of demons. “Speaking of demons.” Drew dug through his bag and tossed a tracking device on Braxton’s desk.
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“Easy with the equipment,” Braxton growled. He picked up the hand-held device and gave it a once over. “Problems?” “Malfunctioning again.” Gage snorted. “Surprise, surprise.” Braxton loosened the compartment on the back, then sat in front of his computer and popped the device into the docking station. “Maybe if you all treated the device with a little more care.” The other three agents expelled a collective sigh. Braxton saved himself the trouble of reminding them all again that this device had saved their asses more than once. Even with Gage and Jordan having their special built-in radar and Drew and Quinn able to hear a demon a long way off, many agents still relied on the electronic trackers to zero in on any Shadow Demon while on assignment. With the exception of a few minor glitches, the device gave an earlier and more precise warning than any agent’s physiology was capable of detecting. The tracking device was also how he had stumbled across Quinn last night. He’d been surprised the device picked up a demon so close to home to begin with, but not that shocked to find Quinn engaging it. She had a knack for finding trouble. His fingers paused over the keys. Why hadn’t she called in? Was she hurt? Had she had another panic attack? “I’m going to skim the database, see what parts of the world need the most saving since Rae plans to shuffle things some.” Drew nodded to Gage. “Did you do a coffee run this morning?” Gage nodded absently, his face still glued to the printout he carried. “Pick up some tea?” “Did you ask me to pick up some tea?” Gage asked without looking up. “No.” “Have you ever asked me to get you tea?” Drew mulled it over. “No.” “Then why would I?”
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“Hey, if you guys aren’t into a little peppermint or chamomile, that’s your deal. Don’t give me a hard time because I happen to enjoy the odd cup.” Jordan didn’t bother to smother her laugh. “You haven’t gotten laid in a while have you?” Drew glared at her and strode away. Braxton couldn’t help himself. “Not in nearly three months.” Drew flipped them both off and continued without a break in stride. Gage started down the hall in the same direction, but paused. “Where was Quinn headed to?” “Some small town in northern New Hampshire.” “New Hampshire?” “Yeah, I think that’s what she said.” A fresh wave of apprehension lodged in Braxton’s throat. “A few towns in that part of the state have been seeing increasing temporal distortions.” Jordan sighed. “Just another friendly neighborhood demon convention. Damn I hate sacrifices.” “Doesn’t mean they’re trying to bring a Scion across,” Gage said absently. But when too much activity went unchecked, that was often exactly what happened. Unlike lesser Shadow Demons, Scions couldn’t open a gateway to this realm from their side, and only through a number of sacrifices and plenty of bloodshed were they able to cross over. “I should make sure Rae’s seen this.” Gage vanished down the hall, headed for their boss’s office. Braxton stared blankly at the onscreen diagnosis of Drew’s tracking device, aware of Jordan still watching him closely. “Did you two talk last night before she got the call from her sister?” “That woman is stubborn.” The declaration came out much sharper than he intended. He’d hated the look in Quinn’s eyes in the parking lot after the demon had been vanquished, the sheer haunted vulnerability he had felt earlier that same morning. As
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expected, her true colors came through soon enough and she’d been quick to avoid the subject. But the ache inside her, the whispers, the voices that troubled her, left his insides cold. Just when he was finally close to getting her to open up, he’d had to fuck it all up by trying to get into her pants. If the phone hadn’t rung… Unlike the night two months ago, he didn’t regret touching her, knowing there wouldn’t be a doubt in his mind she would remember the feel of his hands on her. Still, he should have pushed harder to get her to talk about the nightmares. It wasn’t the first time he’d let his own wants rise to the forefront. Only this time Cass’s call had saved him from screwing up again. He and Quinn had some issues to work out—he had some issues to work out—and none of them were going to get fixed by feeling her up. He pushed away from his desk and stared at his phone, willing it to ring. Not that she’d call him. There were plenty of other people that warranted a call before him given the current state of their professional relationship. He couldn’t even say they had a personal one any longer. The few minutes in her apartment last night made him regret just how much he’d pulled back from her. “Did she tell you what’s been going on with her?” “We were just starting to get into it when her sister called.” Seeing as he and Quinn hadn’t gotten the chance to talk about what happened between them, he certainly wasn’t about to mention it to Jordan. Jordan nodded thoughtfully. “Guys.” Gage poked his head around the corner. “Our resident eavesdropper says Rae is talking to Quinn.” Braxton was already headed down the hall when Rae stepped out of her office. “She okay?” “Quinn’s fine. Her plane just landed and she’s heard from the police who have already been by her sister’s house but haven’t found anything out of place.” “What about Cass?” “They couldn’t find her either.”
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Gage stepped up beside them. “You should take a look at these.” Rae gave the pages a skim, her brow furrowing. “I’m sending Drew down there to help Quinn.” “I’ll go,” Braxton said. Rae didn’t spare him a glance. “Last time I checked you weren’t big on taking assignments with her.” “This isn’t a real assignment.” She tipped her chin towards the folder in Gage’s hand. “It is now.” “I want to be the one to go.” “Quinn specifically asked for it not to be you.” That stung a little, but Braxton didn’t let it show. “I still believe that you’re in charge here, not Quinn.” She turned away. “I try to respect my agents’ requests.” “Believe me, sending Drew down there isn’t what she needs.” A resounding, “Hey, I can hear you,” echoed up the hall from the break room. Braxton rolled his eyes. “Send me.” Rae gave him her militant stance, but it didn’t fool him. Her glacier-colored eyes were considering the offer. “Please. Send Drew to France.” “Tell me it’s the Riviera.” Drew poked his head out the door. No more than a harsh glance over Rae’s shoulder sent Drew ducking back into the break room. “Is there anything going on with you and Quinn I should know about?” The small flicker in Rae’s expression left his stomach tight, and the hard press of her mouth warned Braxton not to let her catch him in a lie. He shook his head anyway. At the rate he was going, he might be able to get a lie in to every team member by the end of the week. “Fine. I want progress reports three times a day. More if the information warrants it. “No problem.”
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She nodded. “Get out of here then.”
Quinn let herself into the dark house with the spare key she’d found earlier in the fake rock at the edge of her sister’s flower garden. She’d given it to Cass as a gift since her sister had the habit of continually misplacing her keys. Another wave of fear for her sister rushed over her as she closed the kitchen door behind her. She’d already been by the police station, and the second the officer at the main desk spotted her, he had sighed. She’d figured it was the blue streaks in her hair, then realized it was because the cop actually confused her with her twin. His initial reaction had proved to Quinn that Cass had been by the police station enough times to have made an impression. She just didn’t understand why Cass hadn’t called her before if something was wrong. Her trip to the station turned out to be useless. They hadn’t had any new information and said they had followed up after Quinn’s initial call, but found nothing out of the ordinary at her sister’s. She hadn’t expected otherwise. Not when the scent of Shadow Demon was bitter to her nostrils. It was the first scent she caught when she came straight here after her plane landed. She’d been hopeful, as slim as the odds were, that her sister would be home. Instead not only was her sister nowhere to be found, but there wasn’t any evidence of anything broken or any forced entry. But a hostile had been here. Recently. If a demon had stumbled upon Cass and followed her home, they would have left the body, or if there had been a sacrifice to open a gateway, there would be markings somewhere. Demons weren’t into kidnapping, and she’d certainly never crossed paths with any looking for ransom money. So what the hell had it been doing here? Her insides trembled and she had to sit down as the blood seemed to rush to her head. She had to find Cass. She was all she had left. She’d promised her parents she’d look out for her sister—that they’d look out for each other. While Cass would also
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technically carry the gene that was capable of letting a demon’s essence mutate her DNA, her twin had never crossed paths with one, not like Quinn had. Not until now. She continued to move through the house, heading upstairs. The same path she’d tracked a few hours ago. She stopped in her sister’s bedroom, hesitated in the doorway. Something… She closed her eyes to concentrate, to isolate the scent that hovered beneath the others, masked. Quinn studied the door, leaned in closer and sniffed. New door. New paint. She glanced at the hinges. New too. Had the door been the sound she’d heard on the phone, the sound of splintering wood? But why would someone go to the trouble of replacing the door or try to mask the scent of it? Maybe they hadn’t counted on her getting a hold of the phone before they grabbed her? Her sister had said she thought she was being followed. That could explain the new door, trying to make it look like nothing out of the ordinary had transpired. But why? Her head throbbed trying to guess what had taken place and what had happened to Cass. Icy fear clawed through her chest, but she forced it back and dug out her cell phone, dialing the field office. Jordan picked up. “You’re okay.” A sigh of relief came through the phone. “Any luck yet?” “No.” The word stuck in her throat. “How can I help?” “My sister thought she was being followed. I’m wondering if maybe whoever it was had been calling her too.” “I’ll look into it. What are the cops saying?” “I get the impression they think my sister is a crack pot and didn’t think there was much truth to her claims.” She took a breath, desperately trying to unravel the tension pressing down on her. “It’s worse. A hostile’s been here. Storm demon.”
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“Back up should be there in another hour or two.” Part of Quinn had wanted to refuse Rae’s insistence to send someone down to watch her back. Now that she knew there was demon involvement, she was glad for it. There was safety in numbers, and seeing as she didn’t fully know what she was up against, another agent was one more person to help her figure this out. Help her find her sister. She talked to Jordan for a few more minutes about running some background checks on some of the people her sister came into regular contact with. Quinn was at a disadvantage since her sister had only moved into the area a couple of months ago and she hadn’t been to visit Cass here yet. Even the people her sister worked with at the small boutique hadn’t been prepared for her and Quinn’s exact likeness. They hadn’t even known Cass had a twin. Cass was a bit on the shy side and didn’t volunteer much information about herself as a rule—and likely hadn’t known any of them long enough to get too close. Knowing she wasn’t going to learn anything else tonight and already working on no sleep in the last thirty-six hours, Quinn needed to crash. She sat on the edge of her sister’s bed and smiled at the teddy bear on the pillow. An exact match to the one she’d been given. The last gift they’d received from their father. A Valentine’s Day surprise. He’d walked into their house with a bouquet of roses for their mom and teddy bears for them. Presents for all his girls. Her throat thickened at the memory. Her parents had died three weeks later. Quinn stroked a finger down the bear’s face to his nose. She couldn’t lose Cass too. She kicked off her shoes and stripped off her pants then lay back on the bed. The familiar scent of her sister’s things was comforting at a time when she couldn’t remember ever feeling so alone. She didn’t know how much time had passed when she bolted upright, the mattress soft and warm underneath her. Another noise sounded at the back door. Someone fiddling with the lock. She was on her feet and down the stairs before she finally slowed her steps and bit back a curse. She leaned against the wall, waited until the door opened, then flipped on
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the light. Braxton blinked at the sudden brightness. “What the hell are you doing here?”
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Chapter Four Even though Braxton knew Quinn would have heard him long before he reached the house and half expected her to yank the back door open before he actually got into the kitchen, the sound of her voice jolted through him. His eyes adjusted to the light fixture above his head, but he wished she’d kept them in the dark. In the dark he wasn’t immediately aware of her bare legs and skimpy tank top. He swallowed. Goddamn, the woman was out to torture him. She was wearing a thong. He dropped his bag, using the distraction to cool his insides before he thought to pick her up, set her on the counter and peel off her shirt. Maybe then he could again sample the curve of her neck, trace a hot path from her mouth to her breast. “You’re not supposed to be here.” Normally the chill in her voice could be as effective as a cold shower. Not tonight. He lifted his gaze, sweeping up over her painted toes, bruised knees—one scraped from her encounter with the telepath demon—and past a small aqua triangle where he wanted to linger, but didn’t. He carried on straight up to her eyes and by the time he got there, the harsh look on her face had softened into something familiar. Something that sent a surge of lust rolling down his spine. Quinn looked away, straightening from the wall. “What happened to Drew?” “Rae had other plans for him.” “I don’t suppose you had anything to do with that?” She moved past him and snagged a bottle of water from the fridge. Even across the room he got a great view of her ass, and immediately backed up. “You just get in?” “Yeah.” 74
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She took a swig of her water. “Check in at a hotel yet?” He shook his head. “The phone is there in case you want to call ahead and reserve a room.” She disappeared down the short hallway. Braxton stood where he was and contemplated doing exactly that. Her footfalls sounded on the stairs. Call a cab. Go. Forget that she was only wearing… He followed her up the stairs. Only one room spilled light out into the hall and he followed it to the source. At the foot of the queen-sized bed, Quinn was shimmying back into her jeans. He propped a shoulder against the jamb. “Don’t get dressed on my account.” “You may have been a jerk for the last couple of months, but I know you like to look at my ass.” She shot him a teasing smile over her shoulder. He grinned right back, realizing he had missed those smiles. He hadn’t seen them nearly enough. “It’s almost a shame to cover it up then, isn’t it?” She snorted. “I’m nothing if not a bitch at times.” She tossed him the water, and he took a long gulp before he ventured into the room. Cass’s bedroom, he guessed. He’d met her once, had been shocked as hell to see Quinn’s face on a woman who was her polar opposite. “You still haven’t heard anything?” Quinn shook her head, sadness instantly creeping into her eyes as she sank back down on the bed. “I don’t understand why she didn’t tell me something was wrong.” He listened as she filled him in on the police supposedly looking into it, the storm demon that had been here and the new door. He moved closer for a better look, always amazed at the depth of her senses. “How close was I when you heard me coming?” She hesitated. “The driveway.” He turned, smiled. “Liar.” “With the exception—” she glanced at the clock, “—of the last hour and a half, I
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haven’t slept in two days. A Scion could have been having a keg party in the backyard and I would have missed it.” It might have been an exaggeration, but he could tell by the dark circles under her eyes that she was exhausted. She sighed. “You don’t have to stay at a hotel. There’s a guest room across the hall.” “Not in the mood to hate me tonight?” “I’ve never hated you, Brax.” She closed her eyes, and when she glanced at him again the truth in her gaze hit him hard in the chest. Followed quickly by relief. It was only Braxton that hated himself for what he’d let happen, for what changed things between them. “Besides,” she continued. “I’ll sleep a little better with you watching my back.” She leaned back, rested on her elbows. “Let me have it already.” Her shirt slipped up, drawing his attention to her exposed abs. “Have what?” he choked, then shoved his hands in his pockets, pulling his pants forward to hide his hard-on. “I’m sure you’re just waiting to jump all over me about taking off on you like that.” She had the jump all over her part right anyway. He shook his head. “Are you sorry for taking off?” “No. She’s my sister.” “Then why bother giving you a hard time. You were worried about Cass.” “Why would a storm demon be after her, why take the time to cover up the damage done?” She flopped back on the bed. “It doesn’t make any sense. Demons don’t even dispose of the bodies of the people they kill in the middle of the street. Why take her from here?” “Could the Destroyer gene have been activated, mutated her?” “Before now?” Quinn shook her head. “When Cass gets so much as a cold, I know about it. If she developed any extraordinary abilities, she definitely would have mentioned it.” “The way you told her?”
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She didn’t say anything. “That stealth demon cornered me less than a month after our parents died. She didn’t take their deaths well.” “No one does.” That much he knew. Having lost his dad at a young age, he knew that kind of hurt all too well. “For a long time she was so fragile. Telling her what happened to me, knowing what I really do, the creatures I fight, she’d be constantly worried she would lose me like we lost Mom and Dad.” “That’s a risk we all take.” “One I chose to take. I can’t live my life the way so many like us do and pretend I don’t have the ability to help stop the bastards from preying on people. But I would never put the burden of the choice I made on my sister’s shoulders.” He cocked his head. “Maybe she’s stronger than you think.” “And what about your mom? When was the last time you two had a little chat about the fact that you can read minds?” “But see if my mom knew, well then eventually she’d tell one of my sisters, and once one knew—” Quinn grinned. “Then they all would.” “It’s damn hard tuning them out at holiday dinners, let alone if they all knew what I could do? And if any of them ever found that out when they were PMSing…” Braxton cringed. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like to have grown up with four sisters. One was enough to drive me crazy a lot of days.” She sobered at the mention of her sister, and he crossed the room to sit next to her. “We’ll find her.” “I know. And when I do, so help me I’m going to kick her ass.” “I suppose you were the one who bossed her around when you two were younger.” Quinn rolled to her side, propped her head on her hand. “Actually she was the bossy one, the leader you could say.” “I find it hard to believe that you followed anyone.”
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She punched him playfully in the arm. “I followed you around plenty.” The reminder was just meant to mean their assignments, but he didn’t hear it without thinking of the times she haunted his desk to joke with him about something or drive him crazy with the infectious sound of her laugh. His gaze dipped to her mouth, and when it crossed his mind how soft her lips looked, he took another drink of water. On the plane he’d thought he’d be able to come here and tell her what really happened the night she’d been quarantined. Seeing her so vulnerable and worried about her sister, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything that would add to it. “So what changed? With you and Cass?” “For as long as I can remember Cass was my rock, but when our parents died something inside her went with them.” Quinn’s voice started to crack, and she pressed her lips together. “So I stepped up and let her lean on me.” “And you’ve been the mother chick ever since.” She scoffed. “Mother chick my ass. I prefer to label myself as nurturing.” He twined a strand of her blue hair around his finger. “A downright wholesome role model.” She snapped her hair out of his grasp, her eyes laughing. “I’ve never claimed to be wholesome. I swear way too much for that.” Braxton laughed, and her grin widened. “We used to be like this,” she said after a moment. He heard the need for explanation hover under her words, but didn’t address it. “I know.” “I’ve missed that. Missed pushing your buttons and kicking your ass in the training room.” “I’m pretty sure I got you on your back a few times.” She shoved at his chest. “In your dreams.” There was just enough power behind the move to push him over the side of the bed. He caught her wrist and hauled her down with him. She landed in a laughing pile, half-sprawled across his chest. Braxton started to sit
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up. Her mouth was too close. Her gaze flicked to his, and then he was lifting his hand and guiding her down to meet him halfway. Soft didn’t do the slow sweep across his lips justice. Her mouth opened, and the quiet moan that melted on their breaths knocked loose something in his chest. His fingers tightened over the nape of her neck, and he groaned right along with her at the silky glide of her tongue when he pushed deeper into her mouth. Her nails pressed through the shirt she bunched between her clenched fingers, delivering a sharp contrast to the slow brush of her mouth, a leisurely exploration he knew he needed to savor. A kiss from a woman who hadn’t been more than five minutes from his thoughts for over two years. She pulled away much too soon and rocked back on her heels. Her attention dropped to the carpet and he caught the glimmer of a grin he knew so well. “So you can take it slow, Boy Scout.” Then she was on her feet and into the master bathroom, out of sight. He stood up. “Don’t come in,” she warned. “I’m peeing.” “With the door open?” “Does having it shut change the fact that my bladder was ready to burst?” He laughed. “No.” “Besides, how many times have I seen you or Gage or Drew have to take a piss in the most unreasonable places?” “Define unreasonable?” With an indelicate snort, she flushed the toilet, and a second later he heard the sound of running water. “Forget I said anything. You men need only a little pressure from the kidneys and you’re looking for a fire hydrant. Reason has nothing to do with it.” “Drew would be offended by that.” She emerged from the bathroom and ventured back towards the bed, but didn’t get within arm’s reach. “I’m glad you were the one who came.” “We didn’t get to finish our talk last night.”
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She fluffed the pillow on the bed, then nodded towards the hallway. He followed as she led the way to the room across the hall. She flicked on the light. “It’s just been some bad dreams, Brax.” “About what?” “I’m not sure. Most of them I can’t remember.” Mostly true, he decided. Not getting a fix on her tonight—like a lot of times—he had gotten fairly good at reading her other cues. “What about the elevator?” “That…I have no idea.” He caught her hand. “You’d tell me if there was anything else, or if something was bothering you?” She nodded, her gaze locked firmly on his. His gut wrenched tight, his body straining to draw her closer. He wanted to taste the spot at her throat, the one that had driven her crazy before. Quinn paused in the doorway. “See you in the morning.” “Night, Quinn.” He heard the door close down the hall, then went back downstairs where he’d left his bag by the door. He glanced at the phone, wondering at the wisdom of sleeping across the hall from her. Hell, he’d worked with her for two years and managed to keep his hands off her. He could do this. Things would be fine. They’d be fine. Probably better. They’d made up. Sort of. That was all. That was all.
Warm water trailed down her skin, fiery streams that worked the knots in her shoulders loose. Her leg ached from the fight, but she ignored it. She heard him behind her and smiled, turning her face up under the spray. He gripped her waist and drew her back against his chest. She tilted her head back to look at him, and his mouth dipped down, feasting on hers. Warm and potent, his
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tongue thrust between her lips to stroke in wide hot circles. His hands moved upward. He swirled the pads of his thumbs around her nipples, then plucked each tip. With every determined tug her sex clenched. She pressed her legs together, but he laughed against her mouth and pushed a thigh between hers. “I don’t think so,” he said. His teeth dragged down the side of her neck, his fingers down past her waist. She rolled her hips forward in anticipation of his touch. Something clanged. She frowned. “These come first.” He dangled restraints in front of her. She tried to get away, but the shower stall kept her contained. The restraints clicked around her wrists. She bucked against him. “Stop.” She stared at him, but his face was nothing more than a black void. “Braxton!” Two hands shoved her from behind and she stumbled out of the shower. With her hands behind her back, she couldn’t break her fall. The side of her face smashed against the tile floor. Wetness. Darkness. She choked back a sob and got to her knees. Her heart thundered against her ribs. She couldn’t see anything, hear anything. Drops. Rain? She was alone. Cold and alone. She crawled around, came up against a wall. Turned. Another wall. She whimpered, heard crying. Cass? She pushed to her feet moving toward the sound. The ground fell away and she skidded, fell. Everything ached. Blood coated her tongue. Mom? Dad? Why was she alone? Nails bit into her skin and red eyes glowed in the dark. “There you are.”
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The hiss. Then pain. Someone grabbed her by the hair, dragging her forward. She couldn’t move. Bound at both hand and feet. Mouth. She screamed though the gag. Heard them laugh. She didn’t want to die and struggled to scramble away. A cold fist hit her jaw, snapped her head to the side. She didn’t want to die… Didn’t want to die. The bedroom light flicked on, but she was out of bed, ready for it. Met the demon halfway. “Quinn?” Her fist connected with warm flesh and she turned to bring her leg around. It was yanked from under her. She staggered back and her legs hit the mattress. “Quinn!” The sound of her name penetrated this time. Her vision cleared, her pulse no longer so loud in her ears. Braxton hovered over her, his mouth bleeding at the corner. She unclenched her fist. “God, I’m sorry.” He kneeled in front of her, skimmed his gaze over her with a tender scrutiny that pulled at her heart. “What happened?” “Nightmare.” The images swam and blurred behind her eyes. Braxton. She’d been dreaming about him. And then something had taken her. Hurt her. She shivered, both wanting and afraid to replay the foggy images. “You’re shaking.” “Just a little cold.” “Here,” he pulled the blanket back down and waited until she scooted to the head of the bed. He sat next to her and pushed her hair off her face. That simple touch soothed her, and she reached up and laced her fingers through his. “Want some water?” Quinn shook her head. Her stomach was still in knots. Nowhere ready for anything
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to touch it. The red eyes of a demon greeted her when she laid back and shut her eyes. She clung to his hand when he started to stand. “Stay with me.” “Okay,” he said hesitantly. She moved over and made room for him in the bed next to her. He slipped under the covers and she moved instantly into his embrace, as though they’d done it a hundred times before this. She drew in a steadying breath, let the familiar scent of his cologne tease her senses, help her find her bearings. Quinn snuggled as close and she could get, reassured by the weight of his arms around her. As though he could fight back the demons in her head that she couldn’t see clearly enough to protect herself from. “You want to talk about it?” His voice rumbled over her hair. She shook her head. She didn’t trust herself to speak anymore than she had to, not until her heart settled back into its regular rhythm. He ran his finger along the curve above her ear, tunneling through the strands of hair. Gentle. Steady. Strong. She closed her eyes, her hold on him tightening, content when his grip answered hers. “You’re safe,” he murmured. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” She believed him. Just as Cass had once believed her. Fresh tears burned behind her lids, but she squeezed her eyes tighter. He stroked her back. “We’ll find her.” Quinn didn’t even lift her head to chastise him for sneaking a peek this time. “You can hit me in the morning. I won’t even defend myself.” Hearing his voice in her head lulled her as nothing else did, and she let herself drift off, clinging to the reassuring promises he whispered in her mind.
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Chapter Five “Whoa.” The sleepy command coupled with the hand that latched around Quinn’s wrist kept her from moving another inch. The mattress dipped as Braxton shifted to keep his body half covering hers. She thought she’d been dreaming when she had awakened to find herself trapped beneath his athletic frame, his eyes hooded and seductive, his hands peeling back the sheet that draped her. But the second he swooped down to nip at her jaw, following the curve of her neck down to scuff his stubbled cheek along her collar bone, the moment became all too real. All too wonderful. The undeniable press of his arousal nudged the inside of her thigh, making her go deliciously limp. Then she arched into him, suddenly wishing there was nothing between her skin and the warm palm that molded to her breast. Her nipples hardened, both swollen peaks as hungry for his touch as the fiery ache thumping deep in her sex. He rubbed the erect tip, gently pinching it. Quinn dropped her head back to the pillow in abandon as everything inside her snapped fully awake. “I get the feeling you like that.” The rough observation simmered with pleasure. She trapped her bottom lip between her teeth and nodded as he moved to her other breast and snared her nipple with his thumb and forefinger. Hot, silky threads pulled taut deep in her womb, and she parted her thighs, welcoming him as he settled between them. Wishing away the sheet still tangled around her lower half, Quinn didn’t know if he was somehow reading her mind or not when he jerked her shirt up and fastened his mouth over her nipple.
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On a whimper, she bowed up to meet his greedy mouth. One long, wet pull of his lips turned her quiet plea for more into a fierce cry. As though Braxton flipped a switch inside, her body crackled, straining for what he offered. Demanding it. With the devilish grin of a man who had her exactly where he wanted her, Braxton released her, her nipple slowly sliding free, aching more now than before. There was barely time to process that much before he clamped down on the other, using his fingers to tease the slick crest of the one he’d just abandoned. Each insistent tug wrenched another moan to the back of her throat. His hand worked under the covers to find her thong, pulling the meager fabric aside with an impatient yank that made future use of those particular underwear questionable at best. Not that she cared one damn bit. She would have ripped them off herself if one hand wasn’t buried in his hair, locking his head against her breast as she arched with every nip of his teeth and hard flick of his tongue. Quinn knew she was already wet even before he parted her cleft, his fingers leisurely testing the path that led to her aching core. For a long time being around Braxton had meant a semi-permanent state of arousal. Despite the chasm that sprouted between them two months ago, one electrified touch and she was ready to give herself completely, to take what he would give her. He slid down her body, nudging her legs to open her farther. “It’s a good thing you don’t sleep naked.” He exhaled a hot breath along her inner thigh. She shuddered. “Why is that?” “I never could have kept my hands off you for the last few hours.” He rubbed at the wet seam then sealed his mouth over her clit. Driven by instinct and desperate to drown herself in the erotic sensation pulsing through her sex, Quinn rolled her hips. The flat of his tongue stroked upwards, dragging another harsh cry from her. Braxton’s grunt of approval thickened the heat burning her up on the inside. She dug her heels into the mattress, lifting her bottom to push more firmly against his mouth. His tongue swirled over her clit, delicately lashing the slick knot.
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“Damn,” she cursed, trembling with how close she was to release. His lips closed around her, sucking hard, only to ease back to skim the swollen flesh with teasing swipes. The accompanying lazy suction was too much, and at the same time not nearly enough. “Too fast for you this time?” The pads of his fingers circled her opening with wicked intent. “Brax,” she hissed, fisting the sheet in her hand. “Still not enough?” He probed at her damp flesh, then without warning, thrust two fingers inside her. Quinn pressed her face against the pillow, muffling the moan that punched up from her chest. She rocked up and then down, meeting the next slow pump of his fingers, wanting to feel him deeper. Braxton’s free hand reclaimed her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging until the intensity alone drove her out of her mind. She bit down on her bottom lip, clutching the scream that wanted to tear loose when he continued to lave her clit, sinking down to suck the knot between his lips as he slowly screwed his fingers in and out of her. And when he upped the tempo until she was helpless not to bounce her hips in time with his carnal thrusts, release shot along her nerve endings, exploding deep in her sex. She locked her thighs against him, caging him to her. “And to think I nearly passed that up for a shower,” she murmured a moment later. Braxton froze. His expression turned carefully blank as he rolled away from her, pushing his hands through his hair as he sat up. “Brax?” Confused, she studied the straight plane of his back, wishing for a moment she had his ability to push past someone’s mental shields to see what they were thinking. So much had happened in such a short time, it felt like she was sprinting to catch up with the train she’d just missed. Something had finally changed between them. If only she could figure out what it was and what it meant.
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“Worried I’ll take all the hot water?” Aside from the fire still smoldering under her skin, it was almost easy to slip back into the habit of teasing him. And it was all she could do to keep the situation from slipping even more beyond her recognition. For so long she knew how to handle Braxton, knew how to read him, what to expect. Twice now he’d surprised the hell out of her, making him unpredictable, dangerous, if she didn’t keep her eyes wide open. Judging by the stark look on his face when he chanced a glance over his shoulder, he wasn’t any fonder of her attempts to lighten the mood than he had been in the last few weeks. Maybe she’d been wrong to assume that after the other night they could get back to a semblance of normal between them. No. She didn’t want normal. Normal had nothing to do with the burst of longing that filled his eyes in her apartment. Normal had nothing to do with how much she’d been ready to give herself to him then. How much she wanted to haul him back to her now. “I think we should talk about the nightmares.” The abrupt change in subject—not to mention mood—chilled her. Quinn sat up, forced to embrace the cold reality of the morning. A reality where Braxton refused to give in. A reality where her sister was still missing. The last thought sobered her, and she yanked her underwear up before getting out of bed. “There’s nothing to talk about.” “You’ve been having them for two months. Two last night alone.” “Two?” She remembered waking from the first and asking him to stay with her. But another one? She crossed back to the bed to sit down, almost terrified to try and remember it. Braxton darted to his feet the second she got near him. Quinn arched a brow. “Problem?” He paced away from her. “You get too close and I have a hell of a time staying focused.” If he didn’t sound so damn annoyed by that, she might have been pleased. “What is there to be focused on?” “Keeping my hands to myself long enough to figure out what’s going on with you.”
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“And that’s why you’re here?” “Yes.” He cursed. “No. Not entirely. She crossed her arms, not liking the team-leader attitude she heard creeping into his voice. “Did I miss the moment when office shrink became part of your job description?” “Come on, Quinn. Something is up with you.” “And don’t you think if I knew what the fuck it was, I’d say something?” “Then let’s talk about it.” If she thought talking would somehow fix whatever was going horribly wrong in her head, she would have blabbed up a storm to Royce, Jordan—hell, even Drew. “If you came down here just to get inside my head, you wasted a trip.” Braxton laced his fingers behind his neck, wrenching them apart a second later. “I came because I’m worried about you.” “So you suddenly claim. Twice now actually.” And was that because things between them might be changing or because he felt it was his responsibility to make sure she was on top of her game? “That’s because it’s the truth.” “You want to talk truth? Fine. Why the cold shoulder? Why avoid assignments that partnered us together? Why come by my place the other night…and then this morning and make me think…” “Think what?” His amber eyes glinted with a cool detachment that couldn’t have been any farther from the hunger that had burned there minutes ago. She never backed away from a confrontation and she damned well wouldn’t start now. “Make me think you want me as badly as I want you.” Braxton didn’t move, his face impossible to read. The only telling gesture was the clenching of his fist at his side. “Now isn’t the time—” Quinn scoffed. “That’s just it, isn’t it? It’s never the right time with you. Work comes first.” “Our job isn’t exactly nine to five.” Frustration frayed the edges of his voice. “Which doesn’t leave room for anything else, right?”
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He shook his head, resignation filling his gaze. “I don’t know what to say to that, Quinn.” And why didn’t that surprise her? She shrugged, feigning indifference. “You know what, don’t say anything. Doesn’t matter.” Braxton dropped back on the edge of the bed. “Things are just…complicated.” “Yeah.” She headed for the bathroom, needing some space between them. She was beginning to think it was better when he was just ignoring her. “We still need to talk.” He started to follow her. Quinn whipped around. “From now on the only thing I want to talk about is how to find my sister. If you’re really worried about me then just help me find her. That is why you came here, isn’t it?” “If my being here was only about the job, I would have let Drew come.” Braxton held her gaze another heartbeat then walked out of the room, leaving her to stare after him. Leaving her more confused than she’d been even a moment ago. Quinn stared at the empty doorway, but before she could contemplate following Braxton to force him to finish the conversation she’d been so quick to end, she pivoted around and strode into the bathroom. She needed to cool off—in more ways than one.
Braxton sipped at a cup of coffee, the flavor lost among the thoughts spiraling through his mind. He registered Quinn’s footsteps overhead, not bothering to be stealthy in his attempt to get a fix on the vague but turbulent waves of psychic energy coiling around him, taunting him. Unlike during their argument, when her emotions running on high made it a little easier to get a glimpse, this time she shut him down. Hard. Not that it mattered. Something wasn’t right with Quinn and if it took restraining the woman to get inside her head long enough to—
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Braxton dropped his chin to his chest. The thought of restraints ignited the guilt that was never far from the surface. Guilt that had churned in his stomach the second Quinn had mentioned her intention of jumping in the shower, right after he’d once again ignored his common sense and put his hands on her. If only he could blame Quinn and her tempting body that felt all too warm and inviting tucked against his. The brush of her bare thigh against his earlier was all it took to awaken the longing that continued to sink its hot nails in him. And the way her body arched beneath his touch, the way she lost control, driving her hips up for more. He groaned, the pressure on the seam of his pants a reminder that no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts inevitably circled back to Quinn. To how much he wanted her. At least she had that part right. Staying away from her had certainly been a little easier on his mental state—awkwardness aside—but he couldn’t regret what he let happen between them. Not entirely. Not when every second he spent with her made some hidden ache in his chest ease just a little. Right up until another reminder drove home the fact that she was still clueless about what happened between them two months ago. Setting aside his coffee, Braxton gripped the edge of the counter, wishing he could walk upstairs right this second and tell her the truth. He couldn’t decide if he held back to spare her having to deal with that on top of her sister’s disappearance and her nightmares, or because telling her the truth now would sabotage what was happening between them. Whatever the hell it was. “Brax!” His head snapped up at the warning that reverberated in his head. “I need you up here. Now!” He bolted for the stairs, ignoring the shock that Quinn had momentarily cracked open her mental shields. “Where are you?” “Guestroom.”
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Braxton skidded to a halt outside the door. He wasn’t sure what stopped him in his tracks the fastest. That Quinn appeared fine and was standing in the middle of his room in nothing but a skimpy towel, or that she was bent over the edge of his bed, towel hiked enticingly halfway up her hip. In the back of his mind he processed her digging through a small bag, but he couldn’t drag his eyes away from the fantastic view of her— “Stop staring at my ass,” she growled. “And don’t come any farther into the room. He’ll see you.” The heat that infused his blood at the sight of sexy curves meeting the deep shadows cast by the terry cloth evaporated. He straightened, easing back a step from the doorway. “Who?” “The pervert across the street. He’s got a clean shot to this room, and given that this house is on a corner, I’m betting he gets a great view of Cass’s room too.” “How long has he been watching?” “Less than two minutes. He’s using binoculars I think. I didn’t want to chance too long of a look.” “Though he is getting an eyeful.” “As long as that’s all he gets.” The towel wrapped around her head started to slip and she straightened long enough to tighten it. If not for the jerk across the street he would have complained about losing his own impressive view. “So what’s on the perv’s mind?” she prompted. “Harmless fun or closet Scion worshiping?” The corner of his mouth caught on a smile. She never failed to keep things interesting, even when the unexpected arose. He glanced at the window, concentrating. The distance made things a little trickier, but with the unknown man’s focus trained on Quinn, it was easier to track the waves of psychic energy that all humans projected. Only a few were naturally inclined to keep their mental barriers intact. Tracking one individual’s thoughts could be as simple as changing the channel on the television or as complicated as following one thread in a tangled spider web.
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“Anything?” “Patience was never one of your strong suits.” Quinn snorted. “Like it’s one of yours?” She bent over again, likely to maintain her peeping Tom’s interest. Braxton shut his eyes, locking his focus on his target. The waves of energy opened up in his mind, a switch snapping on to thrust unknown territory into the light. Quinn dug through the bag on the bed, and sighed. “Hasn’t he gotten bored yet?” “He’s wondering if you work out.” “I’ll bet.” “Sorry, that’s work out with him.” He cocked his head. “For him?” “Having trouble?” Only when he opened his eyes. “His thoughts are all over the place.” “Uh-huh.” A smile lingered under the innocent observation. Braxton tuned her out, every lurid detail of the other man’s thoughts coming in to crisp focus. He wasn’t going to pass them along to Quinn, his gut slithering into knots as he forced himself to probe deeper. “He thinks you’re Cass,” he said a second later, realizing this wasn’t the first time the bastard had taken a look over here. He tensed, his eyes opening to lock on Quinn. “And he’s wondering why you’re home.” Quinn whipped around, staring intently across the street. “Why? Does he know something, Brax?” The threads started to fade the harder he fought to keep the bridge between his mind and Quinn’s pervert open. “He’s backing away, isn’t he?” “Fucking coward,” she snapped, dropping onto the edge of the bed a moment later. She wrenched the towel from her hair, wadding it up and firing it across the room. It was little more than a blur to Braxton. Despite his efforts to continue to track the other man’s thoughts, he was slipping away. Braxton needed to get closer. He headed for the door. “I’ll be back.”
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“Wait.” Quinn’s eyes closed, her brows gathering the way they did when she was trying hard to siphon through her senses to pick up on something specific. “I think…” She darted to her feet, careful not to step fully in front of the window. “The son of a bitch is coming over.” “Bad time to borrow a cup of sugar.” Quinn rolled her eyes. Braxton nodded to the towel she’d chucked on the floor. “Better to keep up the pretense as long as possible.” She grabbed the towel and tucked the damning streaks of blue out of sight. “Depends how well he knows Cass. There are differences for people who know where to look.” “Talking will be a serious disadvantage then.” Quinn punched him on the way past, darting away with a speed that made it impossible to retaliate. Grinning, he caught up with her at the bottom of the stairs. Braxton glanced pointedly at the towel draping her frame. “Just a suggestion, but the better the view…” She shuddered but tugged down the fabric until her breasts threatened to spill over the top. He instantly regretted saying a word on the subject. Quinn tapped the corner of her mouth. “You’ve got a little drool there, Boy Scout.” Caught gawking, Braxton swiveled around to face the doorway. “He’s coming up the walkway,” she said, her gaze burning a hole through his back. Like before, Braxton opened his mind to get a fix on the approaching stranger who might know something about Cass’s disappearance. A moment later the man in question knocked on the door. Braxton and Quinn exchanged glances, and she waited another few seconds before she pulled it open. “You’re okay?” The stranger gave Quinn a quick once-over. “You had a few of us worried there.” Braxton gave the newcomer a similar once-over, both physically and mentally. Dressed in a plaid button-up shirt and baggy cords, long blond hair slicked back as though wax was the hottest new trend in hairstyles, the peeping Tom beamed at Quinn.
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Her brows came together and she shot a curious glance at Braxton. The man then took notice of Braxton standing off to the side. Annoyance flickered over his face before he returned his attention to Quinn. Anyone else might have wondered if they’d imagined the brief territorial look on the stranger’s face. Braxton could do a little better than that, and rather easily when the man’s jealous thoughts steamrolled together. The man had been hoping to find Quinn— or Cass, technically—alone. “After the police stopped by I was worried about you.” Quinn held out one arm. “I’m fine.” The stranger shot another curious look at Brax. “I didn’t realize you had company.” Meaning he hadn’t spotted Brax on his trusty little binoculars. He offered his hand to Braxton. “I’m Woody.” “Braxton.” He put just a little extra pressure on the handshake. Woody’s smile tightened at the corners of his mouth before they released hands. The other man regarded Quinn innocently, though his mind was fast-tracking towards anger. Woody was pissed Quinn was in front of Braxton in nothing but a skimpy towel. “Well I didn’t mean to…interrupt,” Woody offered, taking a step back into the doorway. “No problem.” Quinn absently drew a fingernail along her collarbone. Predictably, Woody’s gaze dropped to her cleavage. If Brax hadn’t been so intent on sifting through Woody’s thoughts he might have indulged in a long look himself. Feeling Quinn’s eyes on him, Braxton shot her a sidelong glance. By the twitching of her lips, she knew exactly the effect she was having on him. Woody jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll be home if you need anything.” “Thanks for checking on me.” The other man’s brows drew together thoughtfully. “Anytime.” Quinn closed the door, waiting until Woody walked away before crossing her arms. “Does he know anything about Cass?”
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“He was surprised you were here and annoyed. I think that was more to do with my presence than anything. He did know something had happened to Cass but I couldn’t get a fix on if that’s just because of what he heard from the police or if he knew something else. He’s also worried about it and I don’t think that’s because I’m here.” She moved to the window, gazing out through the sheer curtains. “I’ve got nothing else to go on and that makes him a suspect at best. If he was involved in this…” The venom that filled her voice made Braxton shudder. He couldn’t help but wonder how differently things might have played out recently if she’d made a habit of sounding like that when he’d been steering clear of her. “We’ll keep an eye on him,” he suggested, looking over her shoulder to where Woody vanished into his house. “Yeah.” She sighed, pulling the towel down, her long inky hair cascading over her shoulders. She tousled the damp strands with her fingers then let her hand fall back to her side. “We’ll find her. Even if I have to lobotomize Woody to be sure he’s not involved.” Quinn snorted. “Can I watch?” He took a step closer to her. “Better than that, I’ll let you assist.” As he’d hoped, an amused smile played over her lips. “That doesn’t sound like playing by the rules to me.” He shrugged. “Just bending them a bit.” Her stormy turquoise eyes bored into his. The beat of his heart counted off the seconds she stood staring at him before she finally started towards the stairs. “We okay?” he asked as her foot hit the bottom stair. Her smile was only halfway convincing. “Sure.” Braxton watched her go then sagged onto the couch, letting his head fall back against the cushion. Today was going to be one hell of a long day.
“I thought you had it?”
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“Busy here.” Quinn ducked a wide punch from the lust demon in front of her. The human-looking female sported pigtails, a prim white blouse and a plaid skirt right out of a private school catalogue. Grinning, the lust demon brought its hand down in a slicing arc. Having once been nailed by a lust demon and not in any hurry to go through that again, Quinn darted out of the way, coming up against Braxton. He hooked his arm around hers, and spun her to his other side. She faced off against the mirror-image of the lust demon she’d just fought. One was bad enough, let alone twins. Lust demon number two hissed at her, its black eyes rimmed in blood-red. Quinn led with her dagger, catching the creature across the thigh. “Every man’s wet dream, huh?” “Are you talking to me or the Shadow Demon?” Braxton used his sword to hold back the lust demon trying to rake him with its fire engine red nails. “You.” Quinn whipped around behind her lust demon twin and shoved it from behind. The hostile pitched forward, going down on its knees before scrambling up to make a run for it. She grinned, more than ready to pursue the creature. “Heads up.” Braxton’s warning came a half second too late. The lust demon he’d thrown over his shoulder slammed into Quinn, knocking her into the wall. The air whooshed from Quinn’s lungs on impact. She pivoted from the side of the building, and beheaded the fallen demon sprawled at her feet. She whispered the chant that brought forth the eerie blue flames, vanquishing the creature permanently. She was rubbing the shoulder that had taken the brunt of the force when Braxton turned from where he’d vanquished the second twin-from-hell, and strode towards her. She didn’t want to think about how many people—men most likely—they would have picked off tonight as a team. Then again… “It might have been almost fun to turn them loose on some self-absorbed jackass.” “You’re twisted.” He caught her hand and drew her closer.
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Heat sizzled up the inside of her arm at the contact. Braxton pushed her sleeve up, exposing her shoulder. He studied her with the methodical detachment of surgeon, apparently satisfied there were no open injuries from her collision with the wall. Still, his thumb lingered on her skin, rubbing gently as if to discover something beneath the surface he craved to see. A burst of need flared in her stomach, and she quickly shrugged him off. “No cuts.” “You sure?” She nodded the rip in his shirt. “Are you?” He bobbed his head, the cool aloofness he excelled at during a fight set firmly in the striking planes of his face. He took a step back, then rethinking it, circled her again to survey her from head to foot. “Braxton, I’m fine.” The frown on his face told her he wasn’t so certain. “Want me to strip down so you can get a better look?” A muscle in his jaw ticked. Quinn shrugged. “Worried I may come on to you again if I were to get infected?” The comment was nothing more than a half-hearted attempt to see if he’d say anything more than he ever had on the subject. Braxton turned away from her. “I’m sure Woody is long gone now.” She sighed under her breath at the way he intentionally ignored her comment. She trailed a few steps behind, catching up to him by the time he reached the sidewalk. “If Woody knew something, wouldn’t you have been able to pull it out of his mind by now?” “Probably.” Quinn wished he sounded more certain. A soft beep sounded in her ear, the communication line between her transmitter and their field office clicking on. Always set on following protocol, Braxton had insisted they wear them in case they were separated when they’d left the house tonight to tail Woody. Too bad her only suspect had vanished on them when Braxton’s tracker indicated a couple hostiles were close by and they went to investigate.
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“How are things going?” Jordan’s voice echoed in her ear. “Could be better.” A hell of a lot better. She’d been in town for nearly forty hours and still had no leads on Cass. The ice in her chest thickened to swallow her heart. “She’s just annoyed she didn’t get to finish off both lust demons.” Braxton joined the conversation. “A couple hostiles to play with?” Jordan sounded jealous. “Twins,” Braxton added. “Really?” Gage’s voice joined the fray. Quinn rolled her eyes. “Don’t you two sleep?” Gage laughed. “If we’re not here, she’s just keeping me up at home—Ow.” Jordan had probably hit him. Braxton smiled at her, the same slow curving of lips that had caught her so off guard the first day she’d strolled into the field office. “So still no leads on Cass?” “No.” And at this point Quinn was grimly operating under the assumption that no news was good news. “We’re signing off for the night. Don’t forget to check in tomorrow.” Quinn scoffed, glancing at Braxton. “As if that were possible.” “Night guys,” Braxton said to Gage and Jordan, the communication line going quiet a second later. Raking her hands through her hair, Quinn stared up at the sky, hunting within herself for anything that would soothe the razor sharp nerves that tangled together in her stomach. She had to find Cass. She reached for her pocket a second before her cell phone rang. She hoped it wouldn’t end up being another dropped call. Half the town seemed to be one big nosignal area. She flipped it open, half-wondering if Rae was calling for a progress report. She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?” “Quinn!”
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Her feet took root in the cement, her heart kicking straight through her ribs as her gaze darted to Braxton. “Cass?”
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Chapter Six Quinn threw her arms around Cass for the hundredth time in the last two hours. “Any tighter and a rib is going to pierce my lung,” Cass squeaked. Quinn dropped back into her seat in the corner of a small pub at the edge of town. It wasn’t the ideal spot for a reunion after what happened to her sister, but the police would be useless and going back to Cass’s place just yet wasn’t wise. Not until they got a better handle on what they were up against and what their next move would be. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” She couldn’t stop saying it. Couldn’t stop thinking it. Cass took a long drink from the beer Braxton had ordered for them. Her hand trembled on the glass, and she quickly placed them both in her lap. Dark circles lingered under her eyes, the only outward sign of her abduction. Though Cass had refused to be checked out at the hospital, Quinn knew her sister had to be shaken to the core by her experience. Her smile was a little too forced, her spine straight, her gaze darting nervously around the room when she didn’t think Quinn was looking, as if she anticipated her attacker coming back for her. After hearing the details of Cass’s attack it was a wonder she’d been able to escape the storm demon that had abducted her at all. Knowing the hostile had been inside Cass’s home, waiting for her, made it impossible for Quinn to touch the beer in front of her. Demons followed humans, preyed on them. They didn’t sit around and wait for them to come home. They were too much into instant gratification, or so she’d always believed. The longer she was a Destroyer the more she questioned just how much they thought they knew about such an ancient evil. Still, the scenario hinted at premeditation in ways that worried Quinn. Had the demon somehow known Cass’s DNA could be mutated, or was it just coincidence it picked her house to launch its next emotion feeding frenzy?
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Braxton had voiced similar concerns, but neither of them had shared any theories on the subject with Cass. After their parents’ deaths, keeping her true nature from Cass had sometimes been difficult, but she’d always believed it was for the best. As far as Cass knew, Quinn worked for an exclusive private security company that catered to the wealthy and eccentric. Her frequent and often unexpected business trips were blamed on appeasing the whims of the firm’s many clients. “So what’s the story with you two?” Quinn realized her attention had drifted in Braxton’s direction. He’d moved over to one of the pub’s pool tables to give her and Cass some privacy. Only a handful of people were scattered around the worn tables and chairs, one couple grinding against each other in front of an old-fashioned jukebox that looked held together by duct tape. She knew Cass’s question stemmed from the need to change the subject when the details of her attack were still so fresh in her mind. Quinn couldn’t blame her, not when she struggled to talk about her nightmares, which now seemed minor in comparison. Sensing her sister’s curious gaze, Quinn shrugged, picking up her drink though she had no plans to lift it to her mouth. “Braxton and I work together.” Cass snorted. “So I’ve heard before.” She propped her chin in her palm. “But you can do better than that.” “We’re not in a relationship if that’s what you’re hinting at.” Cass narrowed her eyes suspiciously, her gaze probing. “But you two have gotten horizontal, haven’t you?” A knowing smile lurked at the edges of her mouth. Unsure how to define the steamy encounters she and Braxton had shared to date, Quinn ducked her head. She wasn’t exactly inexperienced when it came to men, but the way his touch scorched her entire system was undeniable and they had yet to finish what they’d started. Avoiding the subject seemed like a smarter move considering Quinn couldn’t stop wondering if there was more between them than just explosive sexual chemistry.
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Cass glanced over her shoulder and Braxton must have felt their mutual attention. He straightened from the pool table. His eyes skimmed briefly over Cass to settle squarely on Quinn. The intensity that burned in his eyes made her squirm in her chair. “About time.” Quinn let out a long breath. “Cass,” she began, finding it hard to concentrate when Braxton hadn’t taken his eyes off her. The man couldn’t seem to decide if he preferred to cling to his usual stoic mask reserved for all of the agents in their field office, or to pin her in place with a look that promised long nights of being trapped beneath his naked body. “Please. You’ve been talking about the man for months.” Quinn shrugged. “I’m getting the impression your sister approves of me.” She frowned at the mental intrusion and shot Braxton a warning glare. Since that morning he’d been anything but slick when he tried to slip in through the cracks. Part of her wanted to let him in, hoping he’d be able to identify what was falling apart inside her mind. The other part refused to let him see what he made her feel. At least not before she was certain how deep those feelings ran. He set the cue aside and leaned back against the pool table, crossing his arms. His ribbed T-shirt stretched tight over an eye-catching upper-body packed with muscle she was slowly learning the feel of by touch alone. A playful grin teased his mouth. “Worried I might get a peek at something I shouldn’t see?” He tilted his head, the soft crease in his forehead warning her that he was skirting the edge of Cass’s mind. “Like the time you invited a boy you liked over for Thanksgiving, then laughed so hard at dinner you threw up.” Quinn sighed. Cass reached across the table. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to push.” “Not you. Him.” Cass glanced back and forth between the two of them. “So what is the story then?”
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“Complicated.” It was a nice tidy description that summed it up, but solved nothing. “Over before it’s begun?” This time Quinn did finally take a drink. “Sometimes it feels like that.” “I can see the appeal.” Her sister’s brows drew together thoughtfully. Quinn glared at Braxton, making it clear she knew what he was doing. He offered up his most innocent smile—one Quinn felt all the way to her toes—and returned to playing pool. A second later she watched him tug his vibrating cell phone from his pocket. “I still find it weird that you guys thought Woody was involved in all this.” Quinn wished she could rule out the possibility. “He rubbed me the wrong way.” “Don’t get me wrong, he’s not my favorite person but I’ve never had a reason to think he would be involved in something like this.” “Cass, he spies on you.” Her sister shuddered. “Granted he’s more perverted than I gave him credit for, but helping someone try to abduct me?” She closed her eyes, her knuckles whitening on the table. “The man who broke into my house—I know how crazy it is, but something wasn’t right with him.” Her voice lowered to a heavy whisper. Never before did Quinn ache to tell her sister the truth as bad as she did right at that moment. The argument could be made that Cass needed to know what was out there, and at the same time all Destroyers knew the statistics. The average person did not handle the truth well—many became downright paranoid, afraid to leave their homes. After the way her sister had withdrawn so much after their parents’ deaths, Quinn wouldn’t consider the risk of telling her sister the truth until she made certain Cass was safe. “He took you and held you prisoner. Of course he wasn’t…right.” And when Quinn caught up with the storm demon responsible, she would tear it apart. Right after she discovered why it had taken Cass in the first place. She and Braxton had guessed that maybe it wanted to feed off her emotions slowly, wanted to keep Cass scared to draw it out. Luckily for Cass the creature had been stupid enough to continually leave her alone, giving her the opportunity for escape.
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“And the man’s eyes…” Cass shuddered. “This is going to sound weird, but it’s like I’ve seen eyes like that before.” She studied Quinn intently. Quinn brought her head up. “When?” Cass held her gaze, searching, then finally shrugged. “They just seemed familiar. Probably some bad horror movie.” “Maybe.” She shifted on her seat. “Have you ever had any nightmares about Mom and Dad?” “Like what?” Cass picked at the scarred tabletop, but the odd note in her voice caught Quinn’s attention. “I don’t know. Any dreams where Mom is crying and scared?” Concern filled Cass’s eyes. “You’re having nightmares?” “It’s nothing.” After Cass’s ordeal, the last thing she needed to hear about were the fuzzy fragments of dreams from last night that had slowly surfaced throughout the day. The images never came into focus, but she heard her mother’s voice again, promising that they’d be okay. Before Cass could press her for more details Braxton stepped up next to the table. “Drew is on his way.” Cass shook her head. “Is tucking me away really necessary? I mean, I’m clearly not anxious to go home alone while this nutcase is still out there somewhere, but I don’t need a babysitter, do I?” “Believe me, where Drew is concerned, you’d probably be the one doing the babysitting,” Braxton muttered. “Besides, it won’t be for very long,” Quinn added. “And tell me again why you can’t take me back to your place yourself?” “I’m going to follow-up once more with the police and as soon as I’m sure they’re doing something about this creep, I’ll be headed home right behind you.” One of these days lying to Cass would catch up with her. She only hoped her sister would understand.
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“She asleep?” Braxton sat up on the bed as Quinn closed the adjoining door to the two rooms they’d rented. Drew would be by in the morning to take Cass back to a safe house near the field office while he and Quinn stuck around for another couple of days to try and draw Cass’s demon back to the scene. Either the damn thing had somehow come upon her randomly and had moved on once his plaything flew the coop, or it would be back for her. Braxton couldn’t decide what was worse—knowing the creature would get away with what it had done or that it might come back for more. With a click of the remote, he muted the television. Quinn flopped back on the bed beside him. She didn’t say anything right away, staring intently at the creamy swirls of the textured ceiling. “You okay?” She turned her head to look at him. “Why does it seem like that’s all you ask me lately?” Having nothing to say to that, Braxton didn’t respond. “She wasn’t injured in the fight,” Quinn said softly. “You sound surprised.” “The demon abducted her. She put up a fight. I was expecting she would have been cut somehow.” “Or hoping she’d been.” She started to shake her head then stopped. “If she had been and absorbed the demon’s dakorum, then you wouldn’t have to lie to her anymore, right?” He remembered clearly the first few months after he’d been attacked by a telepath demon on his college campus. For two months he’d wondered if he was slowly losing his mind, unable to tune out the thoughts that hovered on the air around him. Even after being recruited to become a Shadow Destroyer, he’d wished he could tell his mom or one of his sisters the truth. If only it were easy to confess
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something like that without it leading to more lies to hide the nature of what was really out there. Quinn rolled onto her stomach. “So why didn’t it? Demons aren’t exactly gentle. Hurting her would have scared her even more, given it more pleasure.” She stood and prowled the length of the room. “Nothing makes sense any more.” She fisted her hands at her sides. “Fuck, between the nightmares and Cass disappearing, weird Shadow Demons and you—” She broke off and swiveled around, giving him her back. “I need some sleep but I’m way too keyed up.” She dropped back onto the edge of the bed, pushing her hair back from her face. “I hate this. I hate not knowing what’s going on. I hate that…that I’m scared to go to sleep.” He started to reach for her, to draw her next to him, but stopped. Getting her to talk about the nightmares would be twice as difficult if he pulled her into his arms the way he craved to. “Scared of what?” She didn’t answer right away, then, “Cass said the storm demon’s eyes were familiar to her.” “They undoubtedly creeped her out.” Quinn gave him her best ya think? eye-roll, then frowned. “What if it means something?” “Like what?” Her back hit the mattress and she pressed the heels of her hands over her eyes. “I don’t know.” She rolled off the bed. “I just need to sleep.” She started towards the door, stopped and glanced at the TV. She turned around, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Braxton, are you watching Dawson’s Creek?” He snapped the television off altogether. “No.” She crossed her arms, her expression daring him to lie to her. He slid off the bed. “I was channel surfing and that’s where I stopped when you came in.” He set the remote on top of the television. “Uh-huh.”
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“Call me crazy, but Joey and Dawson just don’t do it for me.” She took a step closer, grinning now. “You obviously didn’t watch the final episode.” “A loss I’m sure I’ll never recover from.” “Is that—” she tipped her head, “—sarcasm I’m hearing?” He watched her smile widen, then reached out and caught a streak of blue in her hair. “If you’re really serious about posing as Cass, you know you’re going to have to cover this up, right?” She scrunched up her nose. “That bites.” “Being normal?” “Ah. So that’s why you’ve never gotten too close. I’m too wild for you,” she teased. The distance between them shortened to inches. “Yeah,” he murmured, “that must be it.” He trailed his thumb along the underside of her chin. She bit down on her lower lip, yanking his attention right to her mouth. “You know what they say?” Braxton shook his head, drawing her closer until her breasts pressed enticingly against his chest, warming him straight through his shirt. He settled his palm at her lower back, spanning his fingers to cover as much of her as he could. “Once you go wild…” she trailed off, her gaze lingering on his lips. He dipped down to sample her mouth, groaning at the silky sweep of her tongue darting out to meet him halfway. And then he wrapped his arms around her, holding her against him the way he’d wanted to all day. The more time he spent with her, the more he was losing the ridiculous arguments he used to believe were the right ones. Every second he spent kissing her—touching her— made it increasingly clear that ignoring his feelings only made the ache under his heart worse. He tipped her head back, deepening the drugging kiss that worked through his system like a lit fuse slowly trailing towards detonation. He was clueless as to how he
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managed to stay intent on only her mouth with every lush inch burning into him, but not for one second did he want to stop the slick rub of her lips and tongue sliding over his. Quinn flattened her palm over his chest. “Cass is awake.” She eased out of his arms. At the door to their adjoining rooms she paused, her slow, sexy smile driving him right over the edge. “Night, Brax.” She was gone before he could get out the words stuck in his throat. “Good night.”
Her terrified cries screeched through his mind. Braxton bolted up in bed, his own heart thumping hard as he tore off his sheet, and ran for the room next to his. In the adjoining room the lamp was already on as Cass—white as a sheet—tried to calm her agitated sister. Quinn’s arms thrashed against the bed far too quickly, her mutated genes about to make it clear to Cass something else was going on. He darted across the room, positioning himself between Cass and Quinn. As he reached out to calm Quinn, he ordered Cass to get her some water from the bathroom. She hesitated. “Now, Cass.” At his sharp tone she did as he asked. Giving Quinn his full attention, he struggled to rouse her. Saying her name and trying to physically pull her from the nightmare that gripped her mind got him nowhere. He cupped her face and tried reaching her the only other way he knew how. The waves of raw psychic energy snapped and flared through his mind, a frightening indication of Quinn’s mental turmoil. Images shot through his mind on fast forward. Quinn scared and alone. Quinn screaming for someone to help them. Quinn running from a demon with red-rimmed eyes. He tightened his hold, framing her face in his palms, willing her to open her eyes. “Wake up, Quinn.” She continued to jerk and pull away from him.
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“Open your eyes. Look at me. Talk to me.” Her fingers curled around his wrist. “Come on, Quinn. It’s just a bad dream.” Her lips parted. A heart-wrenching scream ripped from her lungs. “Quinn?” Cass stood motionless beside the bed looking as helpless as Braxton felt. He wasn’t sure if it was her own scream that roused her or the sound of Cass calling her name. Quinn’s eyes opened, a sheen of unshed tears glistening over the startling turquoise pools. She blinked, sat up and threw her arms around Braxton, tucking her face against his throat. Tremors shook her body. His insides shook almost as bad as he held on to her, afraid if he let go she’d somehow be sucked back into the nightmares she couldn’t escape. Cass sank onto the edge of the bed next to them, mumbling reassuring words as she rubbed Quinn’s back. Minutes bled together as he sat there with his arms locked around Quinn, finally reassured when her spine uncoiled and she relaxed into him. “You’re okay,” he whispered. “Is that a question this time?” “An observation.” She drew away slowly, the lines between her eyes tight with tension. She took hold of Cass’s hand. “Bad dream,” she explained. Cass shook her head. “No. A bad dream is waking up with your heart racing and needing to turn on the bathroom light before crawling back in bed. That…that was something else.” Quinn drew another shaky breath. “I’ll be right back.” She scooted off the bed. Braxton caught her wrist and gave her hand another reassuring squeeze. She glanced down at their joined hands, a ghost of a smile on her face. “If you want to check the bathroom for monsters first just say so.” Though her tone strove for teasing, traces of fear still lingered in her eyes. “How long?” Cass asked after Quinn closed the door.
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Assuming she was talking about Quinn’s nightmares he answered, “A couple months, I think. Until the other night I didn’t know they were this bad.” “What are they about?” He shrugged, wishing he’d pushed harder to get more details. “Is she really okay?” Cass stared out the room’s only window. “Quinn is the strongest woman I know and I hate that she looked so—” “In need of caffeine? I think I’m in serious withdrawal,” Quinn said from the other side of the room. Braxton arched a brow. “It’s two in the morning.” “And?” Quinn crouched down and looked in the mini bar. “You already polished off the Mountain Dew,” Cass reminded her. “There’s some in mine,” Braxton offered, though it didn’t feel nearly helpful enough. If not for Cass he would have dragged Quinn into his room and refused to let her go until she told him everything. Cass started towards the door. “I’ll grab it.” Quinn stood with her back to him. “I can still hear her screaming.” Her voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear her. “Who?” “My mom. She keeps telling everything is going to be okay, then to be brave. And then…nothing. I hate the silence even more than hearing her scream for them to leave us alone.” “Who’s trying to hurt you?” She shrugged and shoved her hands through her hair, holding them at her temples. “Why do I keep having these nightmares? What’s wrong with me?” “We’ll figure it out.” She smiled weakly. “What if we can’t?” “Here you go.” Cass returned and held out the bottle.
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“Thanks.” Quinn folded her arms around her sister, her need to reassure her twin evident on both her face and the resulting warning of “lung piercing” from Cass. Rocking back on his heels, Braxton waited another minute then nodded towards his room. “If everything is okay, I’m gonna head back to bed.” Quinn followed him, stopping just inside his room. “Thanks.” “No problem.” Faster than he expected, she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and tugged him closer. She reached up and brushed her mouth tenderly over his. The kiss was over before it even started, leaving his insides stretched to the point of snapping in two. “See you in the morning.” Quinn closed the door softly. He turned away only to face the door again, thinking to coax her back into his room, into his bed. Where he could at least have her close if another nightmare struck. Or so he told himself. Instead, he turned and headed for the shower.
“I mean it, Drew. If you even look at her breasts too long, I’ll take your head off.” Quinn’s lips barely moved as she issued the warning to the other agent, knowing his finely tuned senses would guarantee he was the only one who heard her. It was already dark outside and they’d chanced letting Cass stop by the house long enough to gather a few things. Braxton had driven the rental car around to the back and they made sure to draw all the blinds in case Woody got curious. Cass’s bags were all packed and the four of them stood in the kitchen. She hated the thought of letting her sister leave her sight after the last few days, but the only way to make sure nothing happened to her again was to slay the demon responsible. Any other demons that happened to cross paths with Quinn before then were just gravy. She felt Braxton’s gaze and judging by the twitch at the corner of his mouth, he had an idea she’d been warning Drew.
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“Drew?” she prompted when he refused to meet her eyes. The blond-haired agent sighed and nodded, snatching an apple from the fruit bowl on the table. Quinn hugged her sister again. “If he gives you a hard time, just call me.” Drew pretended to shiver. “Was she that threatening growing up?” “I actually used to kick her ass,” Cass said. “Thumb wrestling does not count,” Quinn pointed out. Drew held the door open. “All set?” “No,” Cass answered, hugging Quinn again. “Just because you work in private security doesn’t mean you need to be the one to talk to the police.” Almost as though she knew she was wasting her breath, she said to Braxton, “Take care of her.” “I will.” Quinn pretended to elbow him. “I’ll be fine, and I’ll see you in a day or so.” Before Cass could launch into another argument about why she didn’t need to leave without her, Quinn nudged her towards the door with one final goodbye. “Call me,” Cass ordered, finally following Drew. Quinn shut the door, bracing her hands against the wood. “I came so close to losing her.” She squeezed her eyes shut and second-guessed sending Cass with Drew for the dozenth time. “Drew will make sure she’s looked after. He’ll behave,” he added when she only looked over her shoulder skeptically. “Yeah.” She forced herself to back away from the door. Things just needed to play out a little longer. All she had to do was be visible for a couple of days. Cass had already called in to work to take a short leave of absence so Quinn wouldn’t be required to put in an appearance there. She walked over to the table where she’d left the bag she’d picked up at the pharmacy down the street. She held out the small box to Braxton. “How good are you with hair?” He eyed the box of black hair dye doubtfully.
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While he stood there looking as though he’d rather deal with a dozen faulty tracking devices, Quinn set everything out, then dampened her hair with the attachment at the kitchen sink. By the time she was sitting in the chair, a towel draped around her shoulders, his expression was resigned. For the last few hours she’d been expecting him to probe her about her nightmares and was grateful when he flipped on the radio instead of taking the opportunity to raise the subject. He divided her hair into sections and was already applying the dye after giving the printed directions a skim. Leave it to Braxton to be the only man on the planet to read the directions without being prompted. “So you’ve done this before.” “Sadly, yes. Four younger sisters, remember.” “You dyed their hair?” She didn’t bother to mask her skepticism. “A few times.” “Yet another mystery unlocked.” “Really?” “I always wondered why some days your hair looks better than mine.” She relaxed in the chair, closing her eyes as he massaged the color through her hair. Quinn listened as he elaborated on the first time he’d been roped into coloring one of his middle sisters’ hair and the disastrous results. While they waited for the color to set in Quinn’s hair, they sat at the kitchen table exchanging more childhood stories they’d never before taken the time to share. Having damn near chugged the beer Braxton had placed in front of her as they talked, her stomach buzzed warmly. Much of the heat, she knew, stemmed from the lengthy glances they shared before switching the subject once more. “I’m going to need you for the rinsing part.” She’d already cleaned out the sink and pulled out the detachable hose next to the faucet. “Wouldn’t a shower be easier?” “Probably, but I don’t want to get black dye all over Cass’s tub.”
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She leaned over the edge of the sink, offering him the nozzle. When a few seconds ticked off, she turned to find him still on the opposite side of the kitchen. “You’re not gonna chicken out on me now are you, Max Factor?” His shoulders tensed, and he moved to take the nozzle from her. His fingers closed over hers. “Keep your eyes closed.” The raspy edge to his voice curled down her backbone. She leaned over, doing as he asked as his hands and the hot water worked away the black dye needed to cover her blue streaks. His fingers grazed the back of her neck and she laughed at the almost ticklish sensation, jostling back into him. Her behind came up against his groin, and everything inside her skidded to a stop. His hand only paused for a moment as he finished rinsing her hair, then, grabbing the extra towel from the counter, used it to work the excess moisture from her hair. More than once he shifted closer, his thigh brushing hers, the erection he sported—thick and hard—nudging her ass. She straightened, but he didn’t leave her any room to move aside. The towel slipped to the floor as his fingers sank into her hips, tugging her back to rock against his arousal. Her stomach back-flipped, and all the warmth in her body tunneled down to thump fiercely between her thighs. Braxton brushed her wet hair aside, his mouth hot against her skin as he explored the slope of her neck. She closed her eyes, resting her hands over his. The soft scrape of his teeth and slow sweet pull of his lips pushed her body from the first waves of desire into a full frontal assault. He spun her around and crushed his mouth down on hers. Quinn locked her arms around his neck, moaning deep in her throat as he slid under her shirt to cup her breast. His thumbs brushed her nipples, hardening the sensitive flesh, then tugging fiercely until each peak was rock hard and hungry for his mouth.
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The counter dug into her lower back as he swiveled his hips, grinding into her until she could scarcely drag in a breath. His tongue plundered her mouth in smooth savage strokes that threatened to liquefy her bones. She felt the snap on her pants give way, and then they were yanked off. She clung to him as he pulled her knee up to curve the outside of his thigh. Eager to touch him, she trapped a hand between their bodies, closing her hand around his cock. He groaned, and thrust against her palm as she first loosened her hold on him, then gripped him tighter. The feral sound of approval that rumbled in his chest made the fire licking up the inside of her thighs burn hotter. At this rate there would be nothing left by the time she hit the climax already coiling fast and hot inside her. Braxton jerked her shirt up and clamped down on her nipple, sucking it hard between his lips. “Brax,” she cried out. He drew back as though speaking had broken the moment. She caught his jaw in her palm before he could even think to retreat. “Don’t say a word. We’re not stopping this time. Not a damn word or so help me—” He cut her off with a hungry kiss. “Good answer,” she mumbled. He lifted her and set her on the counter, rubbing the heel of his hand against her aching sex with ruthless precision. Only when she groaned against his mouth did he slip beneath the edge of her panties to stroke down her damp cleft. She lifted her hips off the counter, pushing hard against the hand between her legs. “I’m dying a very slow death.” The raw confession escaped between each molten kiss he trailed down her throat. “Still one a hell of a ride.” “It will be,” he promised darkly, then plunged a finger deep in her sex.
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Chapter Seven Her wet inner walls clenched greedily around his fingers. Braxton groaned at the exquisite sensation, leaning in to catch the long moan that shuddered through her. She raked her nails down his shoulders, dragging him closer. “Not bad?” he breathed, nipping her bottom lip before sliding his tongue back into her mouth, drowning in the taste of her. He could stand here all night, driving her towards the release that charged on the air between them, and it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy the bottomless need to keep her in his arms. “Very, very good.” Her hard sigh filled his mouth when he leaned forward to kiss her again. Her slick folds parted easily as he dragged his thumb up to slowly rub her clit. The swollen flesh plumped even tighter under his touch. Quinn dropped her head back, her cry of pleasure as stimulating as if she’d curled her fingers around his shaft and tugged. He licked at the soft hollow of her throat, her skin like wet satin as it slipped between his lips. Lifting her hips, Quinn pumped them to the rhythm he set as he added another finger, sinking deeper. “And what about that?” he challenged, his voice increasingly hoarse. “More.” “Soft and slow?” He withdrew to swirl his fingers around the sensitive knot, then took his time gliding them back into her sex. “Or,” he offered, retreating only to ram back inside, “hard and fast?” Quinn answered by kissing him until he wasn’t even sure he was touching her, so lost in the way she devoured his mouth. Her uneven breaths were warm against his face. “Do I have to choose?”
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With one hand between her parted thighs, he used the other to lift her ass off the counter, allowing him to change the angle. “I could always stop.” Her answering glare might have been convincing if not for the desire that simmered in her eyes. “You really don’t want to do that.” Lust streamlined down his spine as her inner muscles clutched and pulled at his fingers. “No, I don’t.” He strummed her clit ruthlessly, his attention firmly locked on her face as her cheeks flushed and she slammed her eyes shut, riding his hand. Braxton muffled her scream of release with his mouth, grunting at the way she spasmed and came hard against him. She slumped back against the cupboard, studying him from beneath heavy lids. A heartbeat later, she straightened to unsnap his jeans. “No more waiting, Brax. It’s been too long.” He helped her work his pants down, a lusty sigh humming in the back of his throat as his cock sprang free, hard and hungry. For her. Always for her. She closed her warm palm around him, tightening her hold before drawing her fist up. He ground his teeth, his hands motionless at his side as he savored each exquisite pull. She swirled her thumb across the pearly drop of fluid at the head of his cock. The slippery exploration made for a carnal contrast with the flexing of her fingers up his shaft. “No more waiting.” Braxton pulled away the underwear he’d already worked halfway down her thighs, slid his hands under her ass and sank his cock deep inside her. He wanted to yell at the slick, snug fit, but pacified himself with finding her mouth, pushing his tongue past her lips to stroke deep. Like with his fingers, her sex clenched and unclenched around his shaft, the sensation intensifying as he withdrew and forced himself back inside her. Quinn locked her ankles behind his back, pushing herself up on her palms to let him drive deeper between her thighs. He slowed the pace just long enough to again capture one of the dark nipples standing hard and erect, begging for his mouth. Her fingers
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curved the nape of his neck as he sucked the tip of her breast into his mouth, holding her between his lips with a fierce, wet suction. Her hands fisted in his hair, then she dragged him up to her lips, crying out breathlessly as another orgasm claimed her. Rocking into her, his shaft sliding effortlessly and embedding deep in her sex, Braxton struggled to keep it together. The intensity worked against him, and he exploded in a thunderous rush. His heart was still knocking against his ribs, his lungs working hard to pull in enough oxygen as he reclaimed her mouth in one more conquering kiss. Every brush of her swollen lips dug a path that twisted dangerously close to his heart. “Impressive, Boy Scout.” Without an ounce of awkwardness, she jumped off the edge of the counter. She snatched her beer from the table and finished it off. The sight of her naked lithe body as she moved comfortably around the kitchen made his spent erection ignite in a fresh wave of need. Quinn eyed him playfully from the doorway. “Think you can handle a bed too?” She didn’t wait for his answer, but vanished down the hall. He caught up with her on the stairs, and only because they both knew she wanted to be caught. She paused two steps above his, her ass offering a tempting invitation, one he couldn’t have resisted for all the demons in their realm. The sultry expression on her face as she watched him carefully over her shoulder punched a burst of need straight to his groin. Starting at the ankle, Braxton ran his hand up the inside of her leg. He bypassed the soft flesh of her sex to smooth his palm across her behind. He molded his hand to the sweet curve, sinking into her skin until she instinctively parted her legs for him. He grinned at her impatience and caged his own deep in his chest, determined to commit the feel of every dip and swell of her body to memory. As Braxton expected, she was slick and hot when he trailed his fingers back down along the crease between her cheeks. Quinn rocked back on her heels, impaling herself on the fingers he circled around her opening.
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She hissed out a breath, gripping the landing above for leverage. He moved up directly behind her. With one hand on her hip, he reached around to press his other palm against her sex, rotating slowly. Quinn tipped her chin up to her shoulder, her lips parted for him. He bent to capture her mouth, his tongue tangling with hers in a motion as painfully arousing as the slow grind of his hand between her legs. She turned to face him, looping her arms around his neck. He wanted to read more into the desire that smoldered in her gaze, but didn’t dare let himself. Not when he wasn’t ready to contemplate what finally crossing this line had ultimately changed between them. For weeks he’d convinced himself the intensity between them had been heightened by the effects of the lust demon. Realizing that the connection between them went far beyond that one night, far beyond what he ever felt for anyone else, made it even more important to be honest with her about that night. She shifted in his arms, rocking provocatively against his arousal, erasing everything from his mind but how incredible she felt in his arms. “Hold on.” He lifted her up, groaning as his cock nestled against her as she wrapped her legs around him. “Where are we headed?” For a moment he wondered if she meant literally, or what this meant for them. It was damn hard to concentrate with her mouth skating up the side of his neck, nipping a gut wrenching trail that made it impossible not to stop in the middle of the hall. He pressed her against the wall. “Changing your mind?” The sexy smile in Quinn’s voice licked a searing path around the base of his heavy erection. “Not even close.” He eased away, guiding the length of his cock down to slide back and forth along her damp cleft, then slammed into her. Once, twice, three times—pumping away the snaking need that tangled around his spine. She was far too deep under his skin now and he couldn’t make himself care. Braxton continued on to the guestroom, lowering her to the bed, groaning at the way she tightened her slick walls around shaft.
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“The windows,” she reminded him. He sat up, loath to separate himself from her. Quinn beat him to it and double checked the blinds to make sure it stayed just the two of them. He stretched out on his back, admiring the curve of her hip, the fullness of her breasts, the stiff peaks thrusting out. She crawled up the bed until she was straddling him. “Ready for round two?” “If you think you can keep up.” She slid her tongue along her bottom lip. “I’m pretty sure I can hold my own.” He gripped her hips, coaxing her down. “Come here.” Quinn propped her hands on either side of his head. “You could say please.” He lifted his head off the pillow and sucked one hard nipple between his lips. First lashing the tip with his tongue, then dragging it deeper into his mouth, he finally let it slide free. “Pretty please?” Her eyes drifted open, and she rolled her hips to brush her sex the length of his arousal. “You forgot to say with sugar on top.” “A serious oversight,” he murmured against her breast, inhaling the soft scent of her. She settled her wet opening at the head of his cock, pressing down just enough to tease him with the promise of being swallowed by the tight sheath. “I’m glad we’re on the same page then.” He grabbed her waist and jerked her down, thrusting his hips to meet her halfway. Quinn shouted at the delicious invasion, her insides rippling as Braxton rocked her up and she slid back down his cock again. And again. He cupped her breasts, his fingers rolling and pinching her nipples until she fell into a hard bounce that felt raw and primal, and so very right. They were right together. The surprising clarity of that fact after such a short time together stunned Quinn so much she froze. Braxton smiled up at her, rocking his hips against her inner thighs. “Being a tease again?”
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She shook her head, afraid to let him see what he did to her. His hand flattened across her back and he hauled her forward. He feasted on her mouth, the possessive sweep of his tongue sizzling the blood in her veins until she was helpless to stop the tidal wave that threatened to consume her. The precise grip on her hips pushed her down to take him deep within her. He planted his feet and arched up, making the hard muscle grind against her clit until she cried out. “Yes,” he groaned. “Harder, Quinn.” She straightened, keeping him trapped beneath her like a feral predator now at her mercy. Slowly, she raised and lowered her hips, his thick length sinking deep to fill her. She reached behind to hold onto his thighs as she increased the tempo, riding harder, rushing towards the release that clipped furiously along her nerve endings. Braxton slid a hand up the inside of her thigh, his thumb circling her clit. His golden eyes glittered with a primitive satisfaction as he watched her shatter. And then she was beneath him, knees tucked against his sides as he buried his cock inside her. He moaned against her neck, each savage stroke rocketing her towards an intensity that should have severed her in two. This time when she came, he shouted his own release within seconds, collapsing on top of her but for the weight he kept on his forearms. He touched his forehead to hers, his kiss impossibly tender despite both their hearts still thundering in their chests.
Quinn came awake before the screaming started. She stared up at the ceiling, her pulse firing like multiple cannon blasts echoing in the dark. Next to her, Braxton lay stretched out on his stomach, his face relaxed in sleep. Carefully disengaging her legs from the thigh he’d thrown over her at some point, she eased from the bed. She focused first on getting to the bathroom, then rinsing her face with cold water as though it would wash away the nightmare.
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She stared hard at her reflection, less than impressed at the fatigue that had dug deep trenches under her eyes. Before she could dwell on that too much, she studied her fully black hair for the first time since it had been dyed. Frowning, she fingered the plain strands, missing the blue streaks she’d favored for almost a year. Yet another thing that had changed. But this was for Cass. Acknowledging that made the ache in her chest just a little more bearable. A sound in the background separated from the rest, slipping into the forefront. She closed her eyes, filtering through her senses. Someone was outside. Quinn didn’t move until she could pinpoint the trespasser’s location, and then darted into Cass’s room. She slipped along the wall that ran towards the window, and peered down through the dark at the silhouette at the edge of the lawn, tucked under a tree. She spared a glance at the bedside alarm clock. Three in the morning was definitely not the prime time to borrow sugar. Ten minutes later Woody still hadn’t moved from his spot. Ballsy little asshole. Easing back from the window, Quinn yanked on a T-shirt and drawstring pants, grabbing up her shoes from the bottom of the stairs as she went past. After one more cautious check of the yard to make sure Woody hadn’t moved, she let herself out the back. Sorely tempted to confront the pervert, Quinn opted to spy on him instead and sprinted down through half a dozen backyards in half the time it would have taken Braxton. She’d been thankfully spared from any dogs sleeping outside that might have given her away or any lawns littered with obstacles that would have slowed her down. Having scaled two fences in seconds, she crouched at the edge of a hedge before finally darting across the street to make her way back towards Woody’s place. He still hadn’t moved by the time she hit his property, heading for his back door. The moron had even left it open for her.
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The screen door creaked as she let herself inside. She waited at the threshold just to be certain the man didn’t have a dog she had missed picking up before now. A few more seconds ticked off in her head. Satisfied she was alone in the house, Quinn advanced another few steps, moving on to explore the lower level while keeping an ear open for the sound of approaching steps that would signal Woody’s return. She noted the Spartan furnishings and plain walls devoid of artwork or even photographs—not to mention no television. What the hell did the man do all day? Cass had already mentioned she’d never known Woody to leave his home that often or talk about a job. In under a minute she’d soundlessly moved to the second level, giving his bedroom only a sparing look, both thankful and surprised there was nothing that pointed to his deviant side other than a pair of binoculars on the window sill. Right then it would have been nice if subhuman strength had also been one of her gifts along with extraordinary senses. She would have gleefully snapped the ends off. The last room she checked wasn’t so plain. No expense had been spared in the purchase of every technological toy imaginable. Computers, laptops, digital cameras, recording equipment, police scanners. Two—sometimes three of each—all laid out for easy access. Unlike downstairs, not a spot of dust collected on trim or in hard to reach places. Pristine. Sterile. Curious, she edged closer, the corner of a paper sticking out from beneath a handheld organizer. The fact that it was paper among a myriad of machines and devices made it all the more obvious. She tugged the corner loose to see what looked like nothing more than the bored swirls of a person doodling while on the phone. At least at first glance. But within the sharp lines and curves, familiar symbols made her study the sheet more intently. Son of a bitch. She moved the day planner and found another dozen sketches tucked neatly out of sight.
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The crunch of footsteps over gravel penetrated her senses and she checked the window, spotting Woody walking back up his driveway. Forcing back her anger, she made it back down the stairs and towards the rear door, only to realize the man was coming around that way. She sprinted for the front, unlocking the door and had it already open before she heard him reach his back door. She reengaged the lock on the handle and pulled it quietly closed. Focusing on his footsteps, Quinn waited until he was at the opposite end of the house and sprinted back through the same yards, not stopping until she reached Cass’s place. “Where did you go?” Braxton stood in the open kitchen door, moonlight casting his face in silvery shadows. He’d yanked his jeans back on, but hadn’t bothered with a shirt. A fact her tired eyes could still appreciate. If she didn’t need to take a minute to catch her breath, she would have thrown her arms around him and kissed him until her insides unlocked. “You just missed your pal, Woody,” he added, crossing his arms. She recognized the critical expression on his face—one that hinted at his usual lack of approval—but after the last few hours together she couldn’t find herself remotely annoyed by it. Not even when the militant stance warned her he wasn’t happy that she’d ventured off alone and he wouldn’t hesitate to tell her that. “You mean my pal, the demon-gopher?” Braxton looked confused. Quinn shrugged, her breaths coming easier now. “I figured if he could trespass so could I.” “Why didn’t you wake me up?” “I might have lost my opportunity if I stopped to drag you out of bed. I barely got out of there as it was.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. And that last comment didn’t help her case at all.
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Preferring to avoid a confrontation on the subject, Quinn tried to slip past him into the kitchen. He didn’t budge from the doorway. “Are we in this together, or not?” She resisted the urge to answer, “you tell me” and did her best to look unruffled. “If I was on assignment by myself it would be perfectly acceptable to take the risk I just did. Hell, we’ve all been in much worse situations than that.” “With someone watching our backs.” Or someone like Braxton making sure she stuck to the playbook. “I’m fine.” “Given your impulsive nature I guess I should be grateful you didn’t confront him after finding something that convinced you he’s a potential bottom-feeder for our favorite hostiles.” “If we try to scare him now then we won’t get a hold of his demon bud.” And she wouldn’t get to kick said storm demon’s ass. He snorted. “Love your use of ‘we’ now.” “I thought you might.” She grinned, finding herself leaning into him. “Why do I get the impression you already have a plan?” “Can’t get nothing past you,” she quipped, then ducked under his arm. He followed her inside, the corner of his mouth quirking up in an aborted smile. “So what is your plan?” “You’re leaving.” Braxton stared at her. “Come again?” She snagged a bottle of water from the fridge and took a long drink. “You’re packing your bags.” He hitched a hip against the counter, trying hard to get a fix on her. “Quinn, if this is about what happened between us—” He didn’t get another syllable out before she was in his arms, her mouth slanting across his. The hand she pressed against his chest curled over his heart. He parted his lips, inviting her deeper, groaning into her mouth when she stroked her tongue across his.
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When she finally drew back, he wanted nothing more than to toss her up on the counter and have her again. Nothing but pure, feminine contentment reflected in her eyes. “I have zero complaints in that department.” Reassured—somewhat—Braxton lingered over her mouth just another second, thoroughly exploring the silky warmth before forcing his head back in the game. “So why am I packing?” “To make Woody think you are leaving.” “And then?” “When he thinks I’m alone and vulnerable, he may make another move.” The edge to her voice turned from smoky to deadly. “Where will I be when he makes this move?” And there was only one answer to that as far as he was concerned. “Right here with me.” “Have you also got it figured out how I’m sneaking back in here without him noticing?” “Woody will be rather preoccupied with his binoculars.” Sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, she surveyed his bare chest with interest. “But that’s for us to deal with tomorrow.” “And until then?” She slipped a hand down to unsnap his jeans. “I think we’ll figure something out.”
“Tell me you’re not naked in there.” Braxton lingered outside the bathroom where the dark hallway masked his presence. Light spilled from the small room and he could only glimpse the length of Quinn’s leg resting along the lip of the clawfoot tub. “Yeah, I’m wearing my bikini,” she mocked. “The point was to distract him so he didn’t notice you sneaking back in here.”
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“Which may be completely moot if his demon pal is nearby and spotted me.” The same risk they’d run letting Cass come back for her things. “If there was one close enough to keep an eye on the house, we’d both know it. Or at the very least your snazzy little tracker would tell us.” The soft splash of water had Braxton envisioning Quinn slowly soaping her body. He cleared his throat to work past the sudden tightness there, but nothing helped the throbbing that started behind the seam of his pants. “Hey, that tracker has saved your ass.” “That tracker has also almost gotten me killed. Nothing like sneaking up on your prey and having it malfunction and screech like a damn banshee on ecstasy.” “They’re still a work in progress.” He leaned against the door and caught a glimpse of her fingers trailing sensuously up the inside of her thigh. For Woody’s benefit or his? “How much longer are you planning on staying in there?” “Well, now that you’re back and in one piece…” He heard her pull the plug. Not surprisingly, he didn’t move an inch, riveted, when she emerged from the bathroom moments later in nothing but a skimpy towel that didn’t meet the whole way around. This, he knew without a doubt, was purely meant to drive him out of his mind. She switched off the light, plunging the hallway into blackness. He could let her carry on to Cass’s room, but as she passed he snaked out a hand to catch her around the waist, and jerked her against him. Her superior reflexes kicked in and she pivoted, flattening him against the wall instead. “Disappointed you missed most of the show?” “Did I?” Braxton tugged at the fabric until her breasts were free…accessible. Her breath hissed out, her nipples hardening. He could only guess if it was from the cooler air or the need that ran so close to the surface between them. He slid his hands under the towel and up over her bottom, cupping the soft cheeks. She shivered in his arms. “This must be the start of the second act.”
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Her skin was still damp from the bath, and as his fingers traced the seam that curved to her sex, he knew he skated on the sharp edge of his limits. “Nah, just the intermission.” “Tease.” She growled when he flicked his tongue out to catch a dusky nipple, sampling the tight ridges with his mouth. He probed deeper along her folds from behind, sliding through her wetness. “Just wait until I really get started.” Knowing if he didn’t stop now he wouldn’t, Braxton forced himself to let go of her. “I’ll be downstairs.” She scowled at him playfully then disappeared into Cass’s room. As usual she didn’t take long to change, joining him in Cass’s living room before he’d begun to get comfortable for the coming wait. Once Quinn had described the nature of the drawings she’d discovered in Woody’s office, he’d contacted Rae. It hadn’t taken her long to get back to them with the theory there might be another player—a telepath demon. One that might have forged a link with Woody. According to Royce, the scribbled drawings might be an outlet for Woody when the parasitic link stimulated too many nerve endings. Quinn hovered in the doorway, both daggers strapped to her thighs, her sword at her side. She was clearly looking to put a hurt on someone since she rarely used both weapons. Not that he blamed her. If a Shadow Demon had gone after one of his sisters, he wouldn’t have been satisfied with anything less than disemboweling the creature. She paced for a moment, then, realizing it was better to sit than track an impatient path back and forth in front of the window, dropped down next to him on the couch. He noticed her studying the hilt of her sword intently. “Something wrong with it?” She shook her head, the perplexed look on her face way too sexy after their all-tobrief interlude minutes ago. “It was in my dream last night.” “Can’t say I haven’t dreamt about my sword a time or two.” She continued to scrutinize the sword. “This was different. Like it wasn’t really mine.” “Have you and Royce talked about the nightmares?”
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“Brilliant doctor that he is thinks it might be stress related.” She slumped back against the cushions. “Are you stressed?” Quinn drew the sword through the air, tracing an invisible pattern that suspiciously reminded him of decapitating a demon. “Not until the nightmares started.” She ran her finger around the hilt. “They’re getting worse, though. More intense, more vivid.” Since this was the most receptive she’d been to talking about them, he decided to go with it. “Any luck remembering more when you wake up?” “What I see never makes any sense. Like someone dumped a jigsaw puzzle into my lap and I’m supposed to figure out what the whole picture looks like using only a few pieces.” She turned in his direction, the dark casting her face in shadows. “We might be here all night,” she whispered, reminding him if they talked for much longer they ran the risk of their trap being exposed before they had a chance to spring it. “I don’t have any place else to be.” She laughed softly. “I’m glad it was you who came, Brax. Having you here when everything has been so crazy…” Quinn leaned her head against his shoulder, their fingers linked—though he wasn’t sure which of them had initiated the simple connection that was so much more than that. “This thing between us,” she said tentatively, “right now it’s the only thing in my life that feels…real.” She angled her face to look up at him, and the stab of guilt that knifed him in the gut almost made him flinch. He ached to tell her the truth. Wanted to tell her that there was another incredible time between them she couldn’t remember. A time she’d trusted him to tell her about if the infection robbed her of the memory. For weeks he’d convinced himself giving in that night had been a mistake. Something that would strain their professional relationship. A laugh now when he was forced to realize they’d barely had one after he’d driven an even wider divide between them.
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Braxton ran his thumb along the edge of her palm, wishing that telling her wasn’t so complicated. He knew the longer he didn’t tell her, the more damage it would do in the end. He’d rather take a direct hit from Slice or Dice than hurt her, but right now the truth was that what felt real between them was based on one hell of an omission. One hell of a lie. For the first time in months Quinn was really opening up to him, relying on him. Trusting him the same way she used to. How could he be honest now when it would mean destroying that trust between them? And exactly when had he turned into such a fucking coward? The first day she’d walked into the field office, all feisty and ready to play with demons? Or maybe the first time she’d casually mentioned they grab a beer after an assignment, a glimpse of something in her eyes that forced him to acknowledge there was more between them than two agents who lobbed sarcastic barbs like it was an Olympic sport. Or had it been the moment when he knew he couldn’t say no any longer? Quinn’s head snapped up and a moment later he felt the sharp waves of malevolent psychic energy slither through his mind. They had company.
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Chapter Eight Only two of them? Quinn was almost disappointed. Although demons weren’t known to converge in big numbers unless they were trying to trigger a gateway opening to allow a Scion to cross over, she’d been up for a little more excitement. Outside thunder boomed and lightning arced across the night sky, momentarily brightening the room. Then the wind started to howl and rain tapped at the windows— first in fat splashing drops, then an all out downpour. Storm demons. At least that made for a safe bet that one of them had been the hostile that had gone after Cass. Neither of them was particularly quiet as they broke a pane of glass in the kitchen door to get in. She didn’t move, nor did Braxton, as their prey entered the house. Making a move too early would warn the hostiles she wasn’t all tucked in bed, and that she wasn’t alone. One came straight down the hall, its muscular body turned away to head up the stairs. Dressed in jeans and a plain white T-shirt, it could have been any man slipping in after a night out with the boys, determined not to wake his wife. Instead the human façade masked a deadly evil that hungered for emotion and eventual slaughter. “You know, it’s only polite to knock.” Quinn’s voice broke the silence. Without looking behind her, she knew the moment the second storm demon eased around from the other direction. It came through the archway connecting the small dining room with the living room. Braxton moved to her back, his sword glinting in another flash of lightning as he took position. The storm demon that could have been a model for Barbie’s Ken withdrew a sacrificial dagger. An amused grin warped his face from something glimpsed on Saturday afternoon barbeques to a twisted slash of lips that promised intense suffering. www.samhainpublishing.com
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Adrenaline ran hot through her veins, and she grinned. “I do hope you’re at least going to try to use it.” “Do you always have to play with them first?” Braxton asked, then shot forward to meet the second storm demon that rushed him. Quinn’s hostile launched a simultaneous attack. Avoiding the first blow should have been easy. Storm demons were routinely the easiest to contain, especially inside where their ability to manipulate the weather wasn’t much help. She darted around behind it, not prepared for the elbow that managed to jab around to nail her in the spine. She pitched forward, whirling to meet the demon stuck to her heels. His eyes glowed in the dark, the feral gleam like a nightmare brought to life. She studied the human-like face, opening her senses, filtering through the details that made up the whole. “Something’s not right,” she said, bringing her sword up to deflect the strike of the demon’s dagger. “It will be soon,” it hissed. Quinn frowned. The tone of its voice was…off. It spun on its heel, digging down to catch her side. She kicked out, catching him in the groin then pivoting out of reach when it lashed out with its hand. She chanced a look at Braxton, cringing when he hit the wall and Cass’s mirror shattered under the impact. Not that her newest friend let her worry about Brax for long. Quinn sidestepped to avoid the hand that grappled to trip her. A glimmer of something waved across the demon’s face, its eyes turning iridescent in the dark. Fuck. “Mimic demon, Braxton.” She wasn’t sure he heard her as he tore after the real storm demon that bolted back towards the kitchen. Smart demon.
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She wished she could say the same for the hostile in front of her. Pushing to retain the offensive, she slashed her arm down. Her sword met only hardwood floor as the mimic demon regained its footing at the last second and dodged the blow. Retaliating, it quickly over-compensated, its sloppy kick missing her. Thrown off balance, the hostile slammed into the wall, crashing to the floor when she spun around to evade it. The mimic demon’s arm came up to defend itself as she moved in to end the game. Quinn frowned at the slim feminine wrist even as her training whispered in the back of her mind that the demon was playing with her. It was the familiar charm bracelet that stalled her, made her grip her sword, hesitating though she was prepared to slay it. Until she glimpsed its morphed face. Her feet locked into the floor. Her heart jammed up into her throat. Mom? Tears streamed down the face she knew by heart though it had been six years since she’d last seen it in the flesh. First the old hurt, and then brilliant pulsing anger snapped through her. Two seconds too late. The demon scissored its leg around, taking her to the floor. Her head struck the edge of the floor trim, and pain radiated along the back of her skull. Blinking through the gray haze that blurred her vision, she shoved away from the wall and rolled, the mimic demon’s dagger catching the back of her shirt. Then it was on her, her mother’s face twisted in a mask of rage. “Quinn!” It took all her concentration to keep her arms up, preventing the dagger pointed at her heart from sliding home. Her arms shot up, the resistance suddenly gone as the demon bolted for the door. She was on all fours and hauling herself to her feet as Braxton ran after it. She caught up to him by the time he reached the back door and followed him outside. In the back yard they pivoted around, trying to figure out where the damn thing had gone. The pouring rain had dissipated to a light mist that was already letting up as the sky
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overhead began to clear. She could only assume that meant Braxton had taken out the real storm demon. She whipped around, the sound of the mimic demon’s receding footsteps lost against the roar of her heart. Fuck! Quinn dropped her sword, her hands going to her knees as she bent over to suck in lungfuls of crisp night air. Too close. The son of a bitch demon. Her nails curled down over her knees, sinking in her skin. Goddamned mimic demon. She shook her head to erase the image of her mother’s face hovering over hers, the dagger much too close. Braxton came towards her and she held her hand out, keeping him back. She needed a minute to compartmentalize what just happened. Just a damn mimic demon trying to fuck with her, and she wouldn’t let it. The nightmares were enough to deal with. She wouldn’t let him screw with her too. Even as she commanded herself to keep it together she could feel her insides tearing loose, the image of her mother’s face… He touched her shoulder and a whimper burst into her throat. She paced away from him, fighting hard to work through the emotional upheaval brought on by the confrontation. She was fine. She was fine. She turned to retrieve her sword only to discover Braxton had already picked it up. He offered it to her, and she couldn’t meet his gaze as she closed her hand over the hilt. Quinn knew he was waiting for her to say something. She could only turn back towards the house, squeezing his hand in passing. Right then it was the best that she could do.
Red eyes glowed in the dark—moving closer—the rest of the face and body obscured by shadows that reached out for her. Her back came up against the wall. She tucked herself into the corner, where her sister whimpered next to her in the dark. “Get the fuck away from me,” she screamed.
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Her foot slipped on something and she tumbled back hard, crushing the hands that had been tied behind her back. A light speared through the dark and she instinctively turned toward it, away from the red eyes that followed her in the darkness. She could hear her mother crying, begging. Mom? Two people were sprawled on the floor, shadows looming over them. Something was pitched across the ground. A sword? Voices. She strained to hear, wishing she was closer. Wishing she was far away from here. The red eyes inched closer. Her sister cried out, pleading. Like their mom. A hot tear rolled down her face, and she cringed as something touched her face. A fierce cry rang out, and the silence became deafening. She scrambled forward. Dad? No matter how loud she said it, the word never echoed through the silence. Through tear-filled eyes she watched as he struggled to his feet, reaching blindly for the sword. He gripped the hilt. Then everything went dark. Quinn rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. She was safe. But her parents weren’t. The pain in her heart spread until her whole chest ached with how much she missed them. Alone in the bed, she suddenly wished she hadn’t insisted on sleeping by herself in Cass’s room, hadn’t insisted on needing her space. She contemplated going across the hall, then rejected the idea. She didn’t need Braxton to slay her proverbial demons. She just needed to figure out where the hell the nightmares were coming from and why she was dreaming of her parents now. Or had she been all along and she just hadn’t realized it? She closed her eyes and turned over onto her stomach. There was a reason for it and sooner or later she’d figure out what the hell was happening to her.
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Braxton heard her scream. He sat up in bed, taking a second to process he was alone in the guestroom and still wearing the clothes he’d fallen asleep in last night. Another cry of distress rattled the windows, and he jumped to his feet. “Quinn!” He bolted down the stairs, skidding to a stop in the kitchen doorway. His mouth fell open at the sight of her cowering on the edge of a kitchen chair with a broom in her hand. Behind her the kitchen door was wide open. “There is a fucking mouse in here.” She searched the floor like a hawk scanning the landscape for lunch. She stabbed the end of the broom in the direction of the pantry. “I think it went under the door.” Braxton surveyed the floor, leisurely sweeping his gaze back to her. “You’re not serious.” “It’s the size of freakin’ puppy.” He arched a brow. “You cut the heads off of monsters and you’re petrified of a mouse?” “I’ve been scared shitless of them since I was eighteen. I have no idea why and I’m not particularly thrilled to admit it, okay?” She spoke the entire confession through her teeth. Mulling it over, he still shook his head. “Again, demons, Quinn. Abnormally strong, like to hurt and torment their victims for fun. Ring a bell?” She glared at him. “Are you going to kill the damn thing or not?” “Um…not.” He knew he shouldn’t be amused by the fact this woman could take on twin lust demons from slasher movie hell and yet panicked at the sight of a furry little rodent. “Brax, please. My bladder is way too full to stay up here all day.” He propped a shoulder in the doorway. “Does Jordan know about this?” “If she did, I’d like to think she’d help a girl out and put me out of my misery.” “It’s poor little Fieval you want put out of his misery.” “Whatever works.” 136
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Strolling into the kitchen, he crossed to the pantry, reaching out to take the broom from her. She clung to it, her fingers tightening before she finally relinquished her death-grip on it. Braxton laughed. “Even Drew is going to get a kick out of this.” “Speak less. Slay mouse more.” “I’m not killing it.” Quinn snorted. “And you think it’s just going to come along quietly do you?” She stabbed her finger at him in warning. “I swear to God, Brax, if that thing jumps up here— ” She curled her toes under her feet and shuddered. He eyed the distance from the floor to the chair skeptically. “Do you know something about mice I don’t?” “Slight phobia here. I’m not exactly in to cruising the Discovery channel for documentaries on vermin.” Sensing that she’d snatch the fruit bowl off the table and fire it at him if she caught him smiling, he averted his face and eased the pantry door open. A ball of black fur ran right over his bare foot. Stifling an absurd shout that rocketed up his throat, he wrenched at the broom he’d planned to use to coerce the mouse out of hiding. Instead it became a weapon of his own demise as it caught the back of his heel when he scrambled back a step on instinct, and he toppled to the floor. From his sprawled spot on the floor, he watched Quinn jump down. She frowned after the escaped mouse and shut the kitchen door. She stood over him. “Still think Fieval deserved to live?” She offered him a hand. He rolled his eyes and took her help up. With disaster averted Quinn went back to fixing coffee. He stared at her back for a long moment, deciding how best to bring up what had happened last night. It seemed that most days lately he was intent on discussions that never quite took place. “There’s no need to talk about it,” she said, practically reading his mind. “It got a few hits in, that’s all.”
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Hardly, but he decided challenging her outright wouldn’t go over so well. “It had you in a pretty tight spot.” His heart tightened painfully at the memory of seeing her go down, the demon’s dagger only a few inches from embedding in her heart. “Happens now and again.” “Does it?” She shook her head and poured two mugs full of steaming coffee. “Don’t make more out of it than there needs to be.” “You hesitated.” Quinn set her cup down. “It took my mother’s face.” He’d known something significant had happened when she wanted her distance after the thing had gotten away. “That’s how a mimic demon works.” They possessed just enough telepathic ability to draw images from peoples’ minds, sometimes not even knowing the significance, just hoping it would mess with a person’s psyche. More often than not, once a victim’s fear was triggered, it was even easier to tap into something that could be even more terrifying. Like telling someone to not think of a pink elephant. Inevitably they did. Mimic demons thrived on people who opened their mind to the truly dark and evil images whenever they had the misfortune to cross paths with that particular type of hostile. It wasn’t uncommon for some mimic demon-related murders to end up painting a close family member of the victim as the main suspect simply by the visual they manifested. He couldn’t imagine being tortured by one of the damn things and all the while having it look like someone he loved. Sick bastards. Quinn shrugged. “It only shook me for a second.” “That’s all it needs.” “I’m still here, aren’t I?” He knew by the whitening of her knuckles around the handle of the mug that she wasn’t nearly as unaffected as she tried to sound. “It saw me coming and probably knew two of us had a better chance of taking it out.”
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Her eyes narrowed. “If this is about to enter team-leader territory, let’s save it for the field office, all right?” “Where we are doesn’t change the fact that whatever is happening with you is inevitably going to start to take a toll on your…abilities.” She crossed her arms. “So you think I can’t handle myself now?” Even if he did believe that—and he didn’t, yet—he wouldn’t have chosen now to point it out. Not when she looked like he would make a great substitute for the demon that escaped them last night. “You tell me.” “It’s clear you’ve already made up your mind so can we just talk about something else?” He matched her militant stance. “Fine. You stay here and talk. I’m going to take a shower.” He caught her arm as she stormed past, unprepared for the anger that flashed in her eyes as she pulled free of his grip. “If you think my judgment is in question, take it up with Rae.” She almost managed to fully mask the trace of hurt that lurked beneath the lethal edge in her voice. “Damn it, I don’t want to pull rank on you with this.” Quinn smiled coldly. “Then don’t.” “You and I both know you’re only as good as the partner watching your back.” “As if I could forget with the walking rule book reminding me of how to do my job.” “Maybe this time someone needs to remind you.” She started up the stairs. “That’s right. Because I sure as hell couldn’t figure out on my own if I couldn’t handle things.” He stalked to the bottom of the stairs, his own frustration clawing at his ribs. “Handle them? You’re too busy trying to pretend they don’t matter.” “Having trouble sleeping isn’t the end of the world.” He didn’t even need to try glimpsing her thoughts to know she didn’t really believe that.
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“I’m going to have a shower, give Woody’s another once-over now that the pervert skipped town and then we can check in with Rae. Unless you’d rather do that without me?” She strode up the stairs without waiting to hear his response.
She was pretending to be asleep. Braxton was almost grateful for it, finding it easier to focus on the road stretched in front of him so he wouldn’t be as tempted to try to push his way into her thoughts. What worried him wasn’t so much what he’d find, but how much easier it was getting. He doubted she even realized how much her guard was dropping lately, how easy it must have been for that mimic demon to pull a stray thought from her mind and use it against her. While she’d been fighting with the demon, the strength of her frustration and the sheer terror that seemed to reign over her dreams had curled through Braxton’s mind, damn near paralyzing him. He hated the helpless feeling that rotted in his gut. He wanted to help but couldn’t force her to let him in. Now matter how badly he wanted it. They hadn’t spoken since Rae gave the word for them to head back. Now that the demons knew they wouldn’t be getting to Cass, they weren’t likely to return, not at the risk to their own neck. Until the network got a lead on Woody—who seemed to be their only link to the mystery surrounding the attack on Cass—they weren’t accomplishing much by cooling their heels at Cass’s place. And once Woody showed up on the network’s radar, they could finish this completely. He knew Cass hadn’t been overjoyed at hearing she couldn’t go home yet, but was relieved she’d get to see her sister soon. Quinn hadn’t said much since they’d left Cass’s. Even less on the plane. Trying to delicately broach the subject got him nowhere. Two weeks ago he wouldn’t have been delicate with her. Now there was more to consider. More to get wrapped up in as the line between their professional and personal relationship blurred.
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There hadn’t been time to talk about what happened between them, and now that they were back home… He didn’t bring up the subject himself, afraid to find out that she’d want to know where they went from here. Since he was still wrapping his mind around the possibility of picking things up where they’d left off at Cass’s—assuming she was still interested in that—he didn’t have an answer, making it pointless to raise the subject at all. And why did that feel like a complete cop-out? Spotting an empty parking space, he guided his car into the spot in front of her building. Her eyes opened even before he pushed the gearshift into park. She straightened in her seat and unclasped her belt. Her hand went to the handle. “Wait.” She paused, but didn’t look at him. “I’m worried about you.” “I know,” she said softly and opened the car door. He threw open his own as she dug her bag out of the backseat. He met her gaze across the roof of the car wishing like hell they’d had more time alone. More time to figure things out. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He didn’t know whether to be relieved or not that her tone carried no obvious animosity. As much as he wanted to follow her inside, he forced himself to stay by the car. She glanced over her shoulder as she strode inside, a glimmer of regret tightening her expression. For a long moment he didn’t move, wondering if the look on her face could be blamed on their fight that morning, or if she was having second thoughts about getting intimately involved. No matter how vulnerable her mind seemed, she kept a solid grip on whatever she was thinking about him—about them. If only he could pinpoint what she fought to hide from him. Her own uncertainties of where this was headed or that she knew it wouldn’t work between them, but just didn’t know how to tell him yet? And if it came to that, would he be able to let her go?
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Quinn forced herself to set the phone down. Again. Even if he wasn’t already sleeping and picked up, she didn’t have a clue what to say to him. It had taken the bulk of the flight, the drive home and the last two hours spent wandering her apartment to realize Braxton really was worried about her. She just couldn’t decide if he was more worried about her or the nightmares affecting her ability to do her job. Selfishly, she wanted it to be the former, wanted it to be more than just the same concern he’d show for any other agent. She just wished she could be sure. Not that she could completely hold it against him if it was about work. The man did practically sleep with the Destroyer handbook under his pillow. He was right to want to make sure things weren’t getting to her. Looking back, she knew she should have tried harder to convince him she was dealing with it instead of getting so defensive about the whole thing. First thing tomorrow she’d thank him for worrying and make it clear that if things got too crazy and she began to doubt herself, he’d be the first to know. It was just a question of how far off that was. And she’d follow that conversation up with a little chat on the subject of them. Hell, trying to figure out what adding sex to their already complicated dynamic meant was more troubling than her nightmares. Or almost anyway. Quinn sighed and headed for bed. Things were difficult, but she’d keep it together. She just might have to prove to Braxton that she still had a good handle on everything.
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Chapter Nine Classified. Quinn frowned at the computer screen. Seated at her desk in the field office, she tapped her fingers over the keys, retyping her password. Although she wasn’t in the habit of looking up her own personal information compiled by the network, this was the first time she’d tried to access an area of her file she hadn’t before. Again the computer refused to open the documents. Classified. Stifling a yawn, she leaned forward to perch her elbows on the edge of her desk. Why in the hell would the scant details on her parents’ deaths be off limits to her? She wasn’t even sure what made her decide to check the file. Just a vibe that churned in her gut, restless with the need for answers. The brief scenes from her nightmares—a horrific tableau where sound and logic defied comprehension—were no doubt partly to blame. Releasing a frustrated breath, she pushed away from her desk and closed her eyes. What was she doing? Her parents died in a car crash and for some reason her psyche was simply mixing things up in her head. That was all. Wasn’t it? Quinn groaned and reached for the bottle of Mountain Dew on her desk. She’d come in early to have the office mostly to herself. Easier to concentrate on work without the distraction of the noises her heightened senses were struggling to keep on mute this morning. The only other person she’d come across yet was the good doctor who was quick to remind her of their morning session. Yippee. If only talking things out with him helped to settle the violent images stirred up in her dreams. In the back of her mind she heard the elevator engage and knew a few moments later by the faraway buzz of voices that Gage and Jordan were on their way up. Jordan grinned at her when they rounded the corner.
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Gage paused in front of her desk next to Jordan. He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking her over thoughtfully. “No mysterious injuries from a lust demon?” “Nope.” She smiled, tucking away her puzzlement over the classified file until later. “Didn’t need saving from myself this time.” Since the break room was generally Gage’s first stop on the mornings he was in the field office, Quinn stood to join them. She was glad for the distraction, listening as Jordan relayed the hilarious details of another glitch with Gage’s tracker. Nodding in agreement that the man had to be cursed to have such bad luck with the tracking device, Quinn followed them down the hall. They walked past the door to the personal quarters where she’d been quarantined. Quinn stopped and swiveled around, something whispering through her mind. She glanced at Gage, who’d paused along with Jordan to see what she was doing. “Did I hit the door?” He frowned. “When?” “When I was infected. Did I pound on the door?” He thought it over then shook his head. “Not while I was still around. I don’t think Braxton mentioned anything about that, but since he stayed with you that night, he’d be the one to ask.” She fell back into step with them. Take them off Braxton. Can’t breathe. Can’t think. Her steps faltered as she glanced down at her wrists, shuddering. “You guys restrained me, didn’t you?” Gage looked a little guilty at the reminder. “We weren’t sure if you’d try to take off or not. And you’re so damn fast.” Jordan snorted. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” A glimmer of her helplessness, the chilling panic when she’d begged Braxton to take off the restraints made her chest tighten. She hadn’t awakened with them the next morning leaving her to assume that Braxton had removed them at some point during the night. After the worst had passed? Was that when she’d begged him?
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“You okay?” Jordan asked a moment later, and Quinn realized Gage had already walked ahead of them. “Things are…” “Complicated?” Jordan offered, a small smile playing across her lips. Quinn knew by the look on her friend’s face that Jordan was reminded of the time they’d shared a similar conversation playing pool just over a month ago. Right before Jordan’s life had really started to go all to hell. Hungry for a change of subject that didn’t involve dissecting what was going on with her, Quinn steered the conversation onto new ground. “Anything new on your brother?” “He’s keeping a low profile wherever he is now.” Jordan sighed. “With everything Rae has said about Destroyers who end up being corrupted by a demon’s dakorum, I’m not sure what I’ll find when I catch up with him. If I do,” she added almost as an afterthought. Quinn only had a small taste of losing track of a sibling and that had been more than enough. Jordan nodded towards her desk. “So I have a report to finish working on. I swear these people need more I’s dotted and T’s crossed for one assignment than a month’s worth of paperwork when I was a cop. But how about a spin in the training room later? We can catch up and you can tell me how crazy you drove Braxton.” Quinn gave her a vague nod and turned back to her desk. “Hold up a second.” So much for slinking away without further comment. Jordan folded her arms across her chest. “What was with that look?” “Look?” Innocent wasn’t Quinn’s best play here and she knew it. The other agent’s eyes widened and she checked over her shoulder to make sure no one was nearby. “Did something happen with you and Braxton?” “Um…”
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Grinning as though she was looking forward to digging for details, Jordan held up a hand. “Say no more until later. I want to be able to hear the whole story at once without interruption.” Beaming, Jordan strode away, a fairly distinctive, “I knew it,” whispering under her breath.
“Have you seen Quinn?” Braxton pushed around the corner of a small stack of folders piled on Gage’s desk. Out of everyone in the office, Gage procrastinated the most when it came to paperwork. “I think she’s in with the good doctor.” Gage tossed down his pen. “Hey, did Quinn freak out that night she’d been infected? She was giving the door to the personal quarters a funny look this morning and asked if she’d banged on it?” Braxton’s heart stuck to his ribs. Quinn was remembering things from that night? “She did when she first came to and wanted out, but other than that, no.” He’d been vague in the small report Rae had him fill out the morning after Quinn had been quarantined. At the time it had seemed smarter to not mention most of their encounter instead of trying to slip in some acceptable details and leave others out. The only thing worse than Rae knowing what happened between them would have been getting caught in a lie about it. Being a senior agent and having that kind of lapse in judgment would have disappointed Rae on top of everything else. That morning he must have devoured a whole bottle of antacids, waiting for Quinn to wake up. Afraid she’d remember nothing. Afraid she’d remember it all. The seconds on his watch had ticked off a full calendar year it seemed as he’d watched the door to the personal quarters until she’d finally shuffled out. She’d looked so damn tempting in the simple faded T-shirt and shorts he’d taken from her locker, he had to physically dig his fingers into the arms of his chair to avoid going to her. Those first few agonizing minutes as he watched her struggle to figure out why she was in the field office had damn near killed him. Made all the worse when Rae had called
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Quinn into her office just when he’d gotten up the nerve to go to her. He thought he had himself convinced it would be better if she really didn’t remember what happened. Better to avoid getting involved with someone he worked with, especially the mess that inevitably followed when it ended. The blistering disappointment when easy-going and confident Quinn had been embarrassed and bothered by the thought of even coming on to him had stung far more than he’d anticipated. Reassuring her nothing had happened wasn’t nearly as hard as listening to her apologize for him having to stick around the night and then watching her walk away. Watching her walk away without saying a damn word. And now Quinn was remembering that night? Braxton rubbed his hand over his face. He needed to tell her the truth before she remembered on her own. Otherwise… He shook his head, refusing to even contemplate the worst case scenario. Gage took a sip of his coffee. “So how did you two get along?” Braxton shrugged, hesitating a moment before finally answering, “The usual.” “And that would be? Because the tension between you two in the last couple of months has driven me up the damn wall.” “We’re…better,” he settled on. Unless he counted the way she’d distanced herself last night when he’d dropped her off. Not that he could blame her, but as much as he didn’t understand what came next for them personally, when it came to work he was concerned her nightmares could end up putting her at risk. “Good.” Gage snapped his pen up and jotted something down on the file open in front of him. Braxton turned away, paused and swung back. “Quinn and I are…” he trailed off, not quite sure what he wanted to say. Gage was his closest friend and yet things seemed so indefinable between him and Quinn. “Complicated?” Gage offered. “Yeah.”
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“It’s not always easy to be involved when you work together, especially in our line of work.” “Funny, I seem to recall having that conversation with you not so long ago.” Right around the time when Gage had refused to consider bringing Jordan into the network despite that she’d already been slaying demons on her own for years. “Having been there myself not so long ago I know how things can seem like they’ll never work out. But I let Jordan believe I was dead for almost five years. At least you don’t have any secrets like that to get past.” “Right.” And just when Braxton thought his guilt was reasonably under control— boom. “And hey,” Gage called out as Braxton turned to go wait for Quinn. “For the record I think you two would be great for each other.” As Braxton strolled away he thought he heard Gage mumble something about, “Sure as hell couldn’t be any worse off together.” Braxton headed back down the hall, smiling. Right up until Rae stepped out of her office and angled her head in that authoritative way she had of inviting him inside. “What’s up with Quinn?” The demand was out before she even finished closing the door. Before he could figure out the best way to proceed, she continued. “You’ve just spent the last few days with her, so don’t think you can sweep anything under the carpet with me. If there is something going on with one of my agents, I need to know about it, Brax.”
He braced himself as he watched Quinn storm out of Rae’s office. Braxton stood at his desk as she sailed past him, the skewering glare she shot him almost enough to make him rethink trailing after her. Except there wasn’t any avoiding it—they needed to talk.
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She reached the training room, flinging the door open. He caught up with her halfway across the gym floor on her way to the locker room. “Hold up, Quinn.” “If I talk to you now, I’ll hit you.” “I’ll take my chances.” She whipped around so fast he barely avoided the collision. “You might not like the odds,” she snarled. “We need to talk.” A brittle smile cracked her lips. “Okay,” she said slowly—dangerously. “I’ll go first. Did you tell Rae I wasn’t fit for active duty?” She might have been discussing the latest in demon tracking accessories judging by the innocent inquiry. He started to shove his hands in his pockets then thought better of it in case she really did take a swing at him. “Not exactly.” She arched a brow, her face deceptively calm. “Did you imply to Rae that you questioned my ability to do my job?” “What I said was that maybe you’d benefit from a few days to clear your head and spend some time with your sister.” “The sister that is now holed up in an undisclosed safe house?” “Undisclosed?” “For some reason Rae pussyfooted around and said it was best not to have the two of us together until we determine how big of a threat Woody poses.” “That doesn’t make any sense.” The odds of Woody somehow tracking Cass across the country didn’t seem likely given what they knew about him. He doubted even a telepath Shadow Demon would be able to maintain a link to Woody if he was too far away. “You’re telling me. And thanks to the good doctor and whatever sound advice you imparted, I’m suspended from any active assignments until further notice.” She stalked away. “Wait.”
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“No.” “Quinn, come on.” He squared his shoulders and followed her into the locker room hoping things didn’t go from bad to disastrous. She stopped in front of her locker, opened it then slammed it again when she saw him there. “You know, maybe it’s better if things just remain professional between us.” “Better for who?” He ignored the idiotic reminder in his brain that weeks ago that had been his thinking too. She was all but handing him the opportunity to backtrack and avoid the gray areas that always came with being involved with someone you worked with. Part of him reasoned that he’d be a fool not to let her end things here. Then again, he’d been a damn fool for so long it seemed stupid to go against the grain now. “Let’s just take a second here.” “Do not talk to me like I’m being irrational, Braxton.” He ground his jaw. “I just want to slow down for a second and figure things out.” “What’s to figure out? You decided it was more important to be my superior than…” “Than what?” “Forget it.” She yanked her bag out of her locker and tossed it onto the bench behind her. Her hands caught the hem of her shirt and she speared him with an icy glare. “Do you mind?” He crossed his arms and leaned against the row of lockers. “Not really, go ahead.” As though to prove she wouldn’t let his presence dictate her actions, she tugged her shirt over her head. He was mature and kept his eyes fixed on hers. Right until she reached down to retrieve a clean T-shirt from her bag, and his gaze followed the soft slope of her neck down to the full swells of her breasts. He damned the bra that obstructed a perfect view. It didn’t matter that he was her least favorite person right now, or that she would probably clock him if he even thought of touching her. His body hungered for her, his mind efficiently tucking away all the details they hadn’t worked out as though they weren’t important.
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And where the big picture was concerned, he was beginning to think they really weren’t. Not when being with her righted something in his world he hadn’t realized was off balance. He sidled closer. Quinn planted one clenched fist on her hip. “What are you doing?” “Nothing,” he answered innocently, not stopping until only a few inches separated them. “Aren’t you worried Rae will walk in here and see you staring at me like that and assume something?” “And how am I staring at you?” She shrugged, but the nervous glimmer in her eye didn’t escape his notice. Braxton edged closer. “Maybe I don’t care what Rae thinks.” Quinn scoffed. “Whatever you say, Boy Scout.” He turned his body, crowding her against the lockers. She jammed her chin in the air. “You make another move and I’ll have serious grounds for sexual harassment.” “You think so?” “I’m pissed off at you right now.” He planted a hand next to her head. “That still doesn’t mean you stop wanting me.” Her lower lip trembled before she smashed them into a firm line. “If you think you can pour on the charm and turn me into proverbial putty in your hands, you’re as mentally unstable as I am.” “I don’t think you’re mentally unstable, Quinn.” He meant it even if she didn’t believe him. “Convenient response when you want to get in my pants, don’t you think?” Recognizing the barb as her attempt to put distance between them, Braxton ignored it. “There’s nothing convenient about wanting in your pants.” “That’s not what I meant.” “Then you need to try harder to be clear.”
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He dipped his head down to tease the soft curve of her neck, surprised when she didn’t push him away the second he opened his mouth over the sensitive flesh. “You’re a pod person aren’t you? Because the real Braxton Murphy would never try feeling me up at work.” He splayed his hand along the side of her hip, slipping up to caress her abdomen. “If this is the only way I can get through to you, I’m willing to take a few risks.” He moved higher to palm her breast. “Get through to me?” She sounded just a tiny bit breathless now. He tugged her bra down enough to brush his thumb across her hardening nipple. “Whatever works,” he breathed. Quinn shoved him back a step. “I may have wanted to jump you for months, but I’m not that easy.” He tucked the part about her wanting to jump him away for later. “Damn it. I was worried about you. I am worried about you. Don’t ask me to be sorry that I was honest with Rae.” She shook her head. “No, you just have more faith in Rae to make the right call than you do me. I’m not stupid, Braxton. I know the nightmares are wearing on me, but I can still do my job.” “For how long?” How long until another mimic demon pulled something she didn’t anticipate, something that would end with a dagger buried in her chest? “So I’m just supposed to stay home until this blows over? What if it doesn’t? What then?” The door to the locker room flew open and Jordan’s voice rang out. “You ready, Quinn?” She came to a stop when she saw them. “Bad time?” “It really isn’t.” She gave Braxton a pointed look, dismissing him. Without a word he turned and walked out.
“Are you gonna tell me what that was all about or just take it out on me?”
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Quinn ducked to avoid Jordan’s kick, slipping around behind the fast-healing agent to use her staff to knock Jordan off her feet. Jordan went down, but not without ratcheting her staff back to catch the side of Quinn’s ankle, taking her to the floor too. Both of them lay motionless on the mat, chests heaving. Quinn dragged in a deep breath that did nothing to unlock the tension embedded in every muscle. She turned her head in Jordan’s direction, aware of the growing aches in her body. “I’ve been having nightmares.” “Not the ones where you show up to work naked I hope.” Jordan shuddered. She smiled. “No. They started a couple months ago. I couldn’t remember much about them for a long time, but I knew they were bad.” “And now you’re remembering them?” “Sort of. It’s still hazy. Some have been about my parents.” “So what does this have to do with Braxton?” Jordan was far too perceptive. “The other night in Cass’s house a mimic demon managed to make itself look like my mom. The same way she’d looked in my dreams. Terrified and crying.” “Sick fucker.” Quinn slowly sat up. “Yeah. Anyway, it sort of threw me for a second and then I was fine, but the damn thing managed to get me pinned.” She still couldn’t decide if it was worse that the demon had been an inch from stabbing her or that it had looked like her mother while doing it. “Anyway, Braxton told Rae he thought I needed a break.” “Do you?” “No.” Jordan jumped to her feet but didn’t reach down to pick up her staff. “For what it’s worth, if you’re looking for the poster child for those who don’t know when they need a breather, then you’ve found her. At least I used to be. And believe me, I know what it’s like to have someone want to protect you.” “That’s not it.” Jordan arched a brow. “Is it just sex with you and Brax?”
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“I haven’t had time to—” “Just sex?” Jordan repeated. “Not to me.” As much of a relief as it was to say it out loud, admitting that she had serious feelings for Braxton felt like she was all but inviting him to come into the room and stomp on her exposed heart. For so long she’d felt the attraction simmering between them, wishing he’d take her up on her occasional offer of grabbing a beer after work. As grateful as she was that he’d stopped holding back, she couldn’t help but fear he would pull away before things even got rolling between them. Aside from her anger earlier, it had seemed smarter to give him the chance to stick with just being coworkers than to be blindsided later. “So then Braxton going to Rae was about protecting you.” “You say that like you’re certain it’s not just sex to Braxton?” Jordan laughed. “Trust me, it’s not.” “How do you know?” Quinn crossed her arms waiting to know what her friend was aware of that she wasn’t. Jordan held out a hand and yanked Quinn to her feet. “Don’t you ever see the way the man looks at you?” “And what if sleeping with him only makes him more protective?” Not that she was completely sold on that being the primary reason he went to Rae in the first place. “Then you do with him what I did with Gage.” “And what’s that?” Jordan grinned devilishly. “Kick his ass in the training room.”
Quinn got out of her car but didn’t move more than a foot away from it. She stared up at the old house trying to decide if she thought it fit Braxton or not. It was a lot bigger than anything she would have bought for herself, and she couldn’t help but wonder why he’d wanted so much space.
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She drew in a soft breath, the fragrant scent of the late evening air soothing her jumbled nerves. In the distance she could hear the sound of water running through a brook. Another time she’d have to explore a little to find the source. The longer she stood there, the more appealing the house and location became. The crickets didn’t seem half as annoying as she’d figured. From the end of the driveway she heard Bon Jovi blaring out of a speaker in the open garage. She knew Gage and Drew had helped Braxton build it over the course of the last couple of months. The rest of the house had also been repainted in recent weeks, the dark green trim a sharp contrast against the traditional white clapboard siding. Quinn kicked at a rock, questioned coming here, then reached in through her window to retrieve the file she’d brought along. Gravel crunched under her feet as she followed the long drive up to the house. She stepped into the garage and eyed the two long legs stretched out from beneath Braxton’s Mustang. It wasn’t surprising to find the inside of the garage as orderly as Braxton seemed to be in every other area of his life. All his tools were neatly arranged on the workbench or laid out in the drawers of the metal tool chest hauled over close to the car. “Damn it.” His hand shot out, fumbling for the rag at his thigh. Something banged beneath the car, then, “Fuck.” She bit her lip and waited while he shimmied out from beneath the car, instantly spotting the stain of oil that seeped through his T-shirt. He noticed her the second he stood up. Surprise flickered across his face. “Hi,” she said hesitantly. He smiled at her, a lethal curving of his lips that made her stomach tug. “Figured you’d be hunting down something to slay tonight.” She shrugged, watching as he peeled off his ruined shirt. He tossed it on the workbench. “I have a favor to ask.” “Ah.”
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“That’s not the only reason I came,” she hastened to add, setting the folder she’d carried in with her on the tool chest. “About earlier—” That was as far as she got. He snaked an arm out, and catching her around the wrist, yanked her toward him. His chest was warm against the palms she’d brought up instinctively. She tilted her head back, sliding her arms around to his back. A soft grunt of approval rumbled in his throat, and then he bent to slowly devour her mouth. Slick and hot, his tongue pushed into her mouth, making her forget everything but how much she craved this man’s touch. Braxton loosened the fierce grip on her waist, his thumb edging under her shirt to whisper over her skin in tantalizing circles. The sluggish sweep of his thumb, combined with the possessive kiss that was equal parts tender and ravishing, turned her legs to a mutinous gel that wanted to dump her to the floor. She clung to him, taking from the kiss everything he offered, her chest aching with how much she wanted to give in return. Firm hands cupped her bottom, nestling her against the thick erection that nudged her lower abdomen. With small swivels of her hips, she ground into him. Between her thighs heated to a throbbing simmer, eased only by the thigh he jutted forward to press against her sex. He broke from her mouth, his lips sliding like lava down her throat. He tugged at the tender muscle beneath her skin, dragging it between his teeth and lips to suck gently. Quinn whimpered at the hot, wet pulls of his mouth. Then, impatient with the need pounding fast and hard through her bloodstream, she stepped back and wrenched her shirt over her head. She grinned wickedly. “It’s getting hot in here, isn’t it?” “Not even close,” he growled, turning to pin her between him and his car.
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Chapter Ten The uncompromising cold metal at her back and warm, male chest cushioned at Quinn’s front made for a delicious difference in sensation. One made all the more delectable when Braxton pressed his body into hers, solid and steady. One hand lay along the roof of the car, his arm boxing her in on one side. His other hand trailed lazily up her abdomen, tracing the contours as she sucked in a breath at the contact. Quinn shifted in place, the pressure building deep in her core thumping fiercely. She rocked up on the balls of her feet, rubbing against the thigh tucked between hers. She felt Braxton smile against her throat. “You drive me crazy.” A scrape of teeth and lash of his tongue followed. “I can relate.” His hand slipped between them to take the place of his leg, the heel of his palm rotating ever so slightly between her thighs. Although the touch was no more than a promise, she moaned as though his hand was already down her pants, his thick fingers filling her. Braxton stopped, his breathing fast and uneven. “I know we need to talk…” “Talk later,” she demanded, finding the hard length of his cock and closing her fingers around him. His teeth snapped together and his eyes slid shut. She pushed him back a step to give her more room to undo his pants. The sight of the impressive erection that sprang free when she worked his pants down yanked her nerve endings into a scorching knot. “Quinn,” he murmured, his hand closing over hers. A note of desperation clung to the throaty plea. At first she thought he intended to pull her away, then his fingers curled down, tightening her hold on him. Like satin over steel, his arousal pulsed in her grip, and she
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drew both their hands down to the base and back up. His palm tensed over hers, tugging her harder along his length in the next stroke. Faster. Quinn dropped to her knees. Cupping his sac in one hand, her other guided him forward to meet her mouth. She swept her tongue across the head, her insides clenching at the feel of his smooth shaft under her tongue. She explored every inch of him, drawing one strained groan from him after another until she closed her lips around the head and pulled his cock into her mouth. He drove his hands into her hair, anchoring himself to her, but made no move to increase the pace as she took him deeper, sucking slowly before letting him slide free only to repeat the process again. And again. Each time she probed a little harder with her tongue, deepened the suction and pulled away more quickly. She did her best to coax more from him. One hand pumped at a short, brisk pace at the base of his shaft, her other palm cupping and tugging gently on his sac until his hips worked to thrust into her mouth with small swift digs. Muscles bunched and squeezed deep in her sex, and more than anything, ached for release. Braxton pulled Quinn to her feet, spinning her around until her back was plastered to his front. With his cock nestled against her jean-clad ass he stood motionless, absorbing the shape of her pressed along the length of his body. The hands at her waist ached to wrench her pants down and give him full access. But not yet. He lifted her breasts into his palms. Her nipples were hard and flushed a deep red. Irresistible. Preoccupying himself with the slope of her neck, he tugged at the tips of her breasts, loving the feel of her arching into him, driving her bottom back against his arousal. The soft whimpers that echoed from Quinn between breaths were like long hot fingers curled around his cock. He pumped against her behind, wanting to slip into her opening and hammer deep.
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Quinn raked her fingers up his thighs, a moan of satisfaction breaking past her lips when he undid her pants and tunneled through the curls, plunging a finger into her. She’d only rocked her hips once before he withdrew, dragging the moisture up her cleft to circle her clit. She cried out, and her guard dropped, letting him see just how close to release she already was. In no condition to draw it out, he was ruthless in thrusting his fingers into her over and over, sliding out of her tight sheath long enough to rub at her clit. Within seconds she came against his hand, her ass grinding so sweetly at his aching cock. And then he couldn’t wait a moment longer. He fumbled to jerk her pants and underwear past her knees. He pushed her forward until her upper body lay across the hood of his car, the head of his cock nestled against her wet folds. She lifted her bottom, pushing up until he pressed into her opening. Before she could open her mouth, he gripped her hips and thrust into her. Hot, silky muscles rippled the length of his shaft and he couldn’t move for a minute. Her tight walls clenched greedily around him, and he could only rock slowly in and out. The exquisite torture lasted only seconds before he withdrew and drove back in, fucking her harder. It didn’t matter that the garage door was open, that music still blared, that they were still half dressed or that he still hadn’t told her the truth. All he wanted was for her to shatter in his arms again, to ride over the edge with her, his cock buried deep in her sex. It was so easy to lose himself to her, to how much he wanted her. Needed her. So easy to lean over until he could feel her back heat his chest, until their fingers were laced together on the hood of the car, until he pumped into her while her slick muscles spasmed around him, and he came with a deep shout that echoed into the night.
“I swear if you drop me, you’re a dead man.” Braxton laughed, immeasurably content as he carried Quinn into the kitchen. He’d stopped long enough to let her gather their clothes, then scooped her into his arms. No
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matter what arguments she might come up with, he had no plans to let her leave tonight. He wanted her in his bed. With him. Even when he confessed what happened between them the night she’d been infected by the lust demon…whatever it took, he would convince her not to leave. The phone in his pants pocket started to ring when they were halfway down the upstairs hallway. He carried her into his room and laid her on the bed before collapsing next to her. He snagged his cell phone from his back pocket. Quinn curled around his body, and he paused another moment, indulging in the closeness he was quickly getting used to. Braxton frowned when he recognized Rae’s number. “Yeah?” “How soon can you be ready for a trip to Guatemala? Temporal activity indicates an awful lot of traffic for one demon. A few deaths in the area look to be sacrificial in nature.” “Wonderful,” he quipped. “I’m sending Gage too. The pilot will be ready and waiting for you two in just over an hour.” He glanced at his watch really hating his job at the moment. “Is there a problem?” Rae asked when he still hadn’t responded. He studied Quinn’s face, reassured by the understanding he glimpsed in her eyes. “I’ll be there.” He ended the call and rolled to his side, propping his head up on his palm. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you are?” She snorted. “Is that to soften the blow of you heading off for Guatemala?” He grinned and shook his head. Sometimes it was easy to forget her hearing was so good she could’ve picked up on both sides of the conversation even from another room. He brushed away a stray hair caught at the corner of her mouth. “I really mean it.” Her lips parted, and she hooked her hand around his neck, drawing him down to her mouth.
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“You mentioned a favor,” he reminded her a few seconds later, ending the kiss that so quickly unraveled him. Her smile grew tight, and he instantly regretted bringing it up. “We can talk about it later,” he offered, hating the vulnerable expression that claimed her gorgeous face. She shook her head. “I don’t know who else to ask, Brax.” “What is it?” “I’ve been dreaming about my parents. My mom is scared, and my dad…” She closed her eyes. “In it, he grabs a sword to defend my mother and he’s cut down right in front of us.” Her voice started to crack and she slammed her lips together, holding back the pain that blinked across her face. “You and Cass?” Quinn nodded. “Could your nightmares have intensified because of what happened to Cass? Because it’s just the two of you and maybe you feel guilty for not being there?” Her brows furrowed. “Maybe,” she conceded. “I hadn’t really considered that.” “So what does the favor involve?” “Getting a peek at classified information. And before you refuse outright,” she rushed to add, “it’s information on me.” Confused, he leaned up on his elbow. “You?” “I know it’s probably nothing, but when I tried to access my own background information, more specifically information on my parents’ deaths, it wouldn’t let me.” “Could just be a glitch in the system. Your parents were killed in a car accident. I can’t see why that information would be off limits.” “I couldn’t understand either.” Her gaze darted away. “Is there something else?” “I went back through the records and the newspaper archives online. There isn’t any record of my parents having died in a car crash.” She fiddled with the sheet. “And I think Rae knows something.”
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He swallowed tightly, puzzled over there not being a record of the accident. “Why?” “Why else would she want Cass tucked away? If this were just a simple case of Cass’s neighbor being a demon lover, why wouldn’t she at least be safe with me? It doesn’t make any sense. And now this about my parents’ deaths?” She searched his eyes, a mix of disbelief and confusion haunting her turquoise eyes. “What if they didn’t really die in a car crash? The details are getting sharper and so much of the nightmares feels so real.” “Let’s say they didn’t die in a crash, what do you think happened to them?” “I don’t know.” She shivered. “My dad had a sword, Braxton. My sword.” He didn’t say anything as he considered the ramifications. She sat up, dragging a blanket over her as she tucked her legs under her. “The Destroyer gene is inherited, going back a few millennia. I got it from somewhere.” “We all did, but the gene remains dormant in the majority of people who carry it.” “What if my dad wasn’t the majority? What if he didn’t really work for a consulting firm?” Braxton reached for his phone. “What are doing?” “Telling Rae I can’t go.” Quinn was faster and snatched the phone off the nightstand. “Just because one of has to be useless doesn’t mean both of us need to be. You’ll only be gone a day or two.” He reached across her for the phone she held out of reach. “And leave you to mull this over? No way.” “I’m not saying I’ll be patient, but it’ll have to wait until you get back.” “Quinn—” She shook her head. “With a few demons on the sacrificial warpath who knows who else’s parent or child is at risk. Do what you were trained to do.” “You could try talking to Rae,” he suggested, forcing himself to get off the bed though every part of his mind yelled out to grab onto her and not let go. He wasn’t used to having a reason to stay when an assignment came in, and if he didn’t leave now, he
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would find a way to talk himself out of going. Quinn was right about needing to do what he could to stop a Shadow Demon from taking the life of another innocent person. “If Rae was going to be forthcoming with the details, I think she would have been.” She reached for her shirt and tugged it over her head. “You need to get ready and I need to get out of the way so you can.” He returned to the bed and kissed her hard. “You’re not in the way.” The smile she gave him when he pried his hands off her caught him right in the gut, and made him linger over her mouth once more. He turned and headed for the bathroom. The sound of her calling his name stopped him the doorway. Her expression turned somber. “How long did I have restraints on the night I was infected by the lust demon?” He froze in the doorway, then finally shrugged through the layer of ice that blanketed his insides. “I remembered them this morning. Vaguely remember that I pounded on the door to be let out.” He nodded, trying to open his mouth and force the words out. “In some of my nightmares my hands are bound,” she continued. “If some of my nightmares are more than dreams, maybe…maybe being put in those restraints that night knocked loose something in my head.” He stared at her. “Crazy, huh?” She tried for a smile. “I guess at this point I’ll look to anything for an explanation.” He tightened his grip on the doorframe. “Quinn?” She stooped to gather the rest of her clothes. “Mmmm?” His phone rang again. Seeing Gage’s number, he cursed and picked up. “Yeah, I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” he said a moment later. He listened to Gage but didn’t take his eyes off Quinn, his heart clenching painfully as he watched her finish dressing and walk out of the room with a short wave and mouthing, “good luck”.
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He leaned back against the door and closed his eyes. Why the hell was it that where Quinn was concerned, he couldn’t do the right thing even if it was painted on a neon billboard flashing in the sky?
Quinn cringed as Jordan took a hard toss to the mat. Her friend recovered quickly advancing on the newest Shadow Destroyer to be assigned to their field office. Another telepath. As if the doc and Braxton weren’t enough trying to get inside her head. Darcy ducked Jordan’s first kick, a smile catching the corner of her mouth. She wasn’t so lucky with the next one, and sprawled across the mat as her feet tangled in avoiding Jordan’s offense. Darcy tugged at the elastic holding back her shoulder-length brown hair, and rolled to her feet, more wary of Jordan this time. Her blue eyes glittered with the friendly promise of retribution. Quinn watched Jordan scowl. “You’re not letting her in your head, are you?” Jordan spared Quinn a disgusted look. A move that cost her as Darcy went low. They both hit the mat. Sorry, Quinn mouthed. Jordan let the new agent help her up and then grinned at Quinn. “Your turn.” Crossing her arms, Quinn leaned back against one of the benches that lined the wall of their training room. “I’m good here, thanks.” Jordan shrugged. “And here I thought being sidelined would make you antsy.” “That almost sounds like a dare.” Darcy smiled. “Now that you mention it…” Jordan chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I’ll treat you to pizza and beer if you can take Darcy down without her getting inside your head.” “You’re serious?” “Or very bored,” Rae said from the doorway. Jordan shrugged. “You sent all the guys away to play and left us here. If I didn’t know you were all for getting rough with the boys yourself, I’d think you were trying to tell us something.”
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Amused, Rae crossed her arms, her gaze drifting over Quinn before settling back on Jordan. “Or could be I wanted to make sure I had the ones here who wouldn’t go easy with Darcy the first time out.” Quinn snorted. “Problem, Quinn?” “Just to be clear, is that a rhetorical question?” Quinn matched Rae’s militant stance. Rae ignored the comment, which only annoyed Quinn more. “You’re not going to let Jordan’s offer slide are you?” Aware that Rae watched her closely, Quinn changed places with Jordan. Darcy darted a look at their boss, her brows gathering together. Quinn tipped her head in Rae’s direction. “If you can crack that vault, I want the combination.” A smile winked at the corner of Darcy’s mouth. “Is that skepticism I’m hearing?” “Wishful thinking,” Jordan threw in, wincing as Darcy wasn’t prepared for the swiftness of Quinn’s first move. She landed hard on her ass. “Initiated by a stealth demon, right?” She was back on her feet a heartbeat later and eyed the weapon wall. “I think she wants to make things interesting,” Quinn observed. “Why not?” Darcy snatched them each a pair of Sai from the wall. She tossed Quinn a set and brought her own up in preparation. Jordan sighed. “Why does everyone always go for them when I’m not sparring?” Quinn parried away from the first slash of the Sai. “Could it be that you can kick everyone’s ass with them?” Darcy met her halfway, their Sai locked together. Quinn twisted and wrenched one of Darcy’s free. The other agent dove for it as it clattered across the floor, rolling back to a defensive stance when Quinn came down to take advantage of the vulnerable position. “So who’s Mr. Murphy?” Darcy asked, flinging Quinn off. Quinn didn’t let her surprise show, chalking the comment up to more of a shot in the dark than anything else. “A pain in the ass you’ll soon get to meet.”
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Darcy shook her head. “Why? Did you bring your fish bowl to work?” Jordan burst out laughing. Had Darcy been any closer, Quinn’s momentary surprise might have cost her. “She’s good isn’t she?” Jordan laughed. Strike for strike, Quinn met the other Destroyer’s attack. “Pretty slick.” Too slick. This time Quinn hadn’t even felt the slight ripple against her mental shields. She just couldn’t decide if Darcy was just that good or if maybe Braxton had been right about everything eventually taking a toll on her.
Relaxed from the couple of beers she’d shared with Jordan and Darcy, Quinn strolled towards home in no particular hurry. The cool night breeze felt wonderful on her face after spending the last couple of hours in their usual booth at Kane’s. She’d even gotten the chance to speak to Cass and managed to hide her concerns from her sister. Not an easy feat. Just after eleven, the streets were quiet as she headed along, making it almost easy to keep the background noise off the radar. She stretched her arms overhead, wondering if Gage and Brax were already on their way back. They still hadn’t had any time to talk about how working and sleeping together would work with them, but given the serious look on his face right before she’d left his place last night, she’d guessed he was wondering about it too. With half a thought to try to catch him on his cell when she got home, she quickened her pace. The eagerness to hear his voice caught her in the chest, making it too easy to recognize how much she’d opened herself to heartbreak if things didn’t work out. She rounded another corner and walked past Jake’s. She was thankful Wally wasn’t lingering out front to try and coax her in for a beer. From the corner of her eye she spotted a person walking towards his parked car in the bar’s back lot. She spared half a glance, then did a double-take. Woody?
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Sensing someone had taken notice, the man froze, then sprinted in the opposite direction towards the woods. Quinn sprinted after him, almost overtaking him just inside the wooded area not far from her last confrontation with the telepath demon Braxton had slayed. The second he skidded to an abrupt stop so did Quinn. An instinctual warning snapped down her spine. Ten feet away from him she realized she wasn’t chasing a man at all, but a mimic demon. Clinging to her determination to be prepared for anything, she withdrew one of the daggers tucked inside of her boot. There was no way to be sure, but she was willing to bet it was the same one that had come far too close to staking her in the heart. “Hey, there handsome. Come back for seconds?” The creature with Woody’s face snarled at her. She tipped her head. “Should I take that as a yes?” This time she felt the tell-tale probe, not surprised when the demon chose Jordan’s form. “If you could actually pull off the blonde hair, you might be halfway convincing.” With a hiss, it attacked. This time Quinn was on her game, the deadly mantra that this wasn’t her friend set on replay in her mind in order to make the killing blow effortlessly. The demon took a slash to the back and another to its leg, but didn’t show signs of retreat. She was glad for it, wanting—needing—to take her frustration out on something. “Why did you go after my sister?” Predictably, the demon pulled Cass’s form from its magical repertoire. Though there was a tiny stab of guilt, she punched the demon, catching it squarely in the face. The damn thing laughed at her. The sound of Cass’s voice was downright creepy coming from the demon in front of her. And it pissed her off.
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The hair on the back of Quinn’s neck stood at attention, goosebumps exploding across her skin. From the corner of her eye, the shape of a man emerged from the shadows. Though her senses buzzed on high, she kept her focus on the mimic demon. It came at her again, the creature’s face morphing once more. Quinn didn’t let anything penetrate but the need to slay it. A long slice across the demon’s cheek didn’t bleed, but threw the demon off balance. She moved in, her eyes on its neck when her senses screeched in warning. She ducked the attack from behind, whirling to face the second hostile. Everything inside her went cold and hard, adrenaline avalanching her system as she took in the older man dressed in jeans and a faded button-up shirt. The growing certainty twisted through her gut like an oily snake. A Scion. She darted back a step automatically, too late to dodge both the mimic demon and Scion’s simultaneous attacks. The fist to her stomach doubled her over, but she gritted her teeth through the pain and straightened only to be kicked back a step. Leaving herself wide open to the Scion. With a strength that shocked her, the master demon gripped her shirt and slammed her headlong into a tree. The impact smashed her teeth together as she fought down the instant vertigo and nausea that roiled in her stomach. She’d lost her grip on her dagger, warm blood trickling down her cheek from where the side of her face scraped the tree. Dragging in a breath, she pushed to her feet. Only one other time had she faced another Scion and it had taken her, Braxton and Gage to vanquish the creature. The mimic demon refused to let up, coming at her from the right with the dagger she’d dropped. She evaded the first move, her body screaming in protest at the moves needed to keep her ahead of the creature. She withdrew her other dagger, aware of the Scion watching every move she made before moving in again. Quinn’s speed gave her enough of an edge to escape the arc of her own dagger as it whistled precariously close to her throat. As she ducked and rolled to avoid the mimic
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demon’s counter attack, she had no choice but to engage the Scion intent on cornering her. Breathing hard and wishing one of the team were here with her, she led with a wide slash that nearly caught him in the middle. His own reflexes were incredibly sharp, allowing him to move almost as fast as Quinn. A sharp kick to her back knocked her forward. Her palms bit into the pieces of pinecones that littered the ground. A foot nailed in her the stomach, and she sucked in a sharp breath, her vision graying at the edges. She scrambled away from the next blow, her retreat far too sluggish. She cried out as the dagger the mimic demon wielded sliced through her shirt and cut down her back. “You can do better than that.” She lifted her head at the venomous voice that slithered through her mind. Telepath Scion. “Come, come. Don’t give up on me so soon.” With a yell she kicked back to knock her other dagger from the mimic demon’s hand, and swiped her hand out to snatch it from the ground. She came up with both fists, daggers at the ready. The mimic demon was too slow and she buried one in its gut, the other slashing through its throat. It collapsed forward, its newest form registering as it lay motionless on the ground, Braxton’s eyes looking up at her unblinking. “You killed him.” The Scion’s voice taunted her. “Like you almost killed your sister. Like you killed your parents.” The air stirred at her back, and she ducked, whipping around to come at it from behind. But not fast enough. The Scion pivoted and locked his hand around her throat, lifting her off the ground. “I expected more of you.” With a strangled yell, Quinn lashed out and caught him under the chin, then drove her elbow down to loosen his grip.
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“Your father would have been disappointed in you.” Her lungs burned for oxygen and lights danced in front of her eyes. And then she felt the air rush at her as he threw her away from him. Pain exploded down her side as she hit the ground. She struggled to her knees, her body trembling with the effort. She saw him loom closer and was thankful for the yawning blackness that stretched up and filled her mind before she collapsed.
Braxton slung his bag in the trunk then slid into the driver’s seat. As he jammed the keys into the ignition, he glanced at the clock. One a.m. Too late to swing by Quinn’s. Gage leaned back in the passenger seat. “Damn I wish every assignment was that textbook.” “What’s textbook about war demons on a rampage?” “That it was predictable. Find the demons. Slay the demons. Go home.” He settled back against the seat and closed his eyes. “Can’t complain about that.” Especially not when he was home in less than fortyeight hours, a fact his body heartily disagreed with. Still, he needed to be here and was as relieved as Gage their assignment hadn’t come with any unexpected complications. Gage’s cell phone rang, and he dug it out of his pocket, grinning when he recognized the caller. “Waiting up for me?” Braxton laughed, cranking the ignition. His hand paused on the gearshift as he felt Gage tense beside him. Icy apprehension needled his gut. “What’s wrong?” “He’s with me,” Gage said into the phone. “What happened?” The certainty something had happened to Quinn knifed through Braxton. He curled his hands around the wheel to keep from wrenching the phone away from Gage. With the waves of psychic energy that broke through Gage’s mental shields, it was easy to determine it wasn’t Jordan who was in trouble. “Is she okay?”
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“Tell me,” he demanded. “We’re on our way,” Gage answered, disconnecting. “Quinn had a bad run-in tonight.” He swallowed past the thick knot wedged in his throat. “How bad?” “Banged up, but hanging on. Jordan says they’re still waiting on test results for any internal injuries.” “When did it happen?” “A couple of hours ago they think. But that’s not all.” Gage’s expression was grim. “The EMTs called to the scene said she roused long enough to say one thing. Scion.”
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Chapter Eleven Braxton held Quinn’s hand to his lips, willing her to open her eyes. Bruises darkened her face and a few cuts that had been cleaned and treated stood out against her pale face. Though he knew she’d been medicated to help keep her comfortable while the worst of her injuries healed, he knew by the waves of psychic energy steamrolling off her that she was anything but restful. He’d been almost overwhelmed by her lowered guard and the intensity that had struck him the second he got within ten feet of her room. The connection had, however, been fleeting, almost as though her mental defenses had kicked back in automatically the moment he tried to sift through her thoughts, aching to help her whatever way he could. Despite the sense of chaos he was picking up on, he couldn’t get any better of a read than that. Was she replaying her encounter with the Scion or had another nightmare sunk its claws in her? He pressed his lips to the inside of her palm, his stomach wrenching at the sight of the long scratch that ran the length of her forearm. He shouldn’t have left. Maybe if he had stayed the other night she wouldn’t have been alone when she crossed paths with the Scion. Wouldn’t be lying in bed so still and fragile looking that it terrified him. He squeezed her hand, interlocking their fingers. He couldn’t stop touching her, needing the physical connection to remind him that she’d held on. What if he’d lost her? Braxton didn’t look over his shoulder when he heard footsteps behind him. “Why didn’t it kill her?” Heels clicked softly across the floor, and Rae came to stand opposite him. Concern filled her face as she stared down at Quinn. “I don’t know.” Braxton gently tucked Quinn’s hand under the covers. “You sure about that?”
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She avoided answering the question by changing the subject. “Were you going to tell me?” she asked quietly. He didn’t need to ask to know Rae was talking about him and Quinn. “Probably once we figured it out ourselves.” She nodded, leaning over to sweep her thumb along Quinn’s forehead, brushing aside her wild strands of black hair. “Every time one of you goes down, something inside me comes undone.” She fiddled with Quinn’s blanket and then turned and walked out of the room in the private clinic where they all recuperated when injured. Rae’s heartfelt confession left him staring after her, and though he hated to leave Quinn for even a minute, he followed his superior out into the hall. “Why is the information on Quinn’s parents classified?” “You’ve been digging through the system?” She didn’t turn around. “Not yet.” He made it clear in his tone that he intended to if she gave him a reason to think he’d find something. “She’s been dreaming of them, seeing them die right in front of her.” Rae glanced over her shoulder. The carefully blank expression on her face made his stomach sink. “She’s right, isn’t she? They didn’t die in a car crash.” His boss studied the long corridor, looking much younger than her thirty years tonight. He knew without pushing hard that there were days where she questioned her ability to lead their team, and judging by the haunted look that flashed so briefly in her eyes, tonight was one of those times. What could have been relief crossed her face as Gage and Jordan came around the corner towards them bearing coffee. “When she wakes up, we’ll talk,” Rae finally said, gazing past him to where Quinn still hadn’t moved. She smiled softly. “She’ll always keep you on your toes.” “Don’t I know it.” With a grim nod, Rae strode down the hall, exchanging parting comments with the other two agents she passed.
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Jordan held out a cup of coffee. Braxton took it, but the thought of actually drinking the stuff held zero appeal. “Any changes?” Braxton shook his head. “She’s strong and held on.” Jordan leaned against the doorjamb. “She must have done some serious damage to the Scion for him to have run off.” “Maybe,” Braxton allowed. “If a Scion crossed over our systems would have picked it up.” “So it’s one of our underground master demons,” Gage surmised. “And it just happened to come across her?” Jordan arched a brow. “You think it was looking for Quinn?” “At this point I don’t think anything can be ruled out.” Since arriving last night he’d had nothing but time to weigh everything out and play with theories. None of which eased the fear that held his heart in a vise. “Okay,” Gage ventured. “Let’s say it was looking for her. Unless it was a war Scion, it wouldn’t have been able to track her. It would have had to go through some kind of normal channels to locate her.” Jordan shook her head. “What the hell would a Scion want with Quinn enough to try and find her?” More questions Braxton didn’t have answers for. He shouldn’t have gone on assignment with Gage, should have stayed with Quinn and helped her dig for the information she needed. God, how many more times could he let her down? “Maybe the moles are leaking classified information about agents to the hostiles.” Gage jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to catch up with Rae and run that by her.” With all the secrecy surrounding Quinn, Braxton hazarded a guess that Rae was already working on the possibility. Not wanting to get into that now with either Gage or Jordan, he let his friend disappear down the hall.
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“She was in a great mood when she left Kane’s,” Jordan said as they both stood motionless outside Quinn’s room. “If I thought for a second something would have been waiting for her I would have followed her home.” Hearing the guilt in Jordan’s voice, Braxton felt driven to reassure her. “There is still the possibility she came across it by coincidence.” “But you don’t really believe that.” Braxton shrugged. Until Quinn woke up and told them what happened, he wasn’t committing to any scenario. If he did, tracking down what had done this to her would have been a priority. And as much as part of him craved nothing less, it would be a stupid move. One that would satisfy the need to make something pay for nearly killing her, but stupid nonetheless. He was nothing if not cautious, and in the same breath knew that was part of the problem. It had always been part of the problem with Quinn. Instead of embracing his attraction to her from the beginning, he’d buried it. Afraid of what getting involved with her might ultimately cost him, it had been safer to avoid her, and instead of telling her the truth weeks ago despite what her reaction might have been, he’d thought it better to forget it happened. Had pushed her even farther away. And for what? Because he always towed the line. Bending, but never breaking. So damn fixated on always playing by the rules he’d been given, he’d made a fucking mess of everything. What if Quinn hadn’t survived the attack? She would never have known how much she meant to him, how deeply she’d edged under his heart. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. “She’s going to be fine.” The thick ball lodged in his throat prevented him from speaking, so he only nodded. Abruptly, he straightened from the wall and whipped around to face her room. Nothing stirred inside and yet the wail of distress that ripped through his mind was all too real. He saw Quinn’s fingers tighten over the sheet, her knuckles whitening. Damn nightmares.
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Jordan hovered in the doorway as he returned to Quinn’s side. He leaned down until his forehead touched hers. “It’s just a bad dream,” he whispered aloud—and then with his thoughts—wishing he could fight the demons in her mind for her.
She was waiting when he rounded the corner, knowing with a certainty he wouldn’t walk away. Couldn’t walk away. Not now. Not when she needed him. Her blood burned hot in her veins, heady waves of arousal and desire that made it impossible to think through the sensual fog that seemed intent on swallowing her. And she wanted it to. Wanted it to consume the two of them until he couldn’t deny what was between them any longer. Steam was already filling the shower and rising in the small bathroom to cloak the two of them in mist. God, she couldn’t wait any longer. He was there. He was hers. He hit the tile wall as she pressed herself against him, only his pants hindering the play of flesh against flesh. She fastened her mouth over his, kissing him deeply. His breath was hot on her face, his heart beating so hard Quinn could feel it echo inside her. She rocked her hips, arching against his throbbing arousal. “Finally ready to play, Boy Scout?” Empowered by the bursts of lust that streaked through her system, she reached between them, pushing his pants down enough that his erection sprang free, thick and hard. God, she wanted him inside her. Without warning, Braxton turned, flattening her to the wall. “More than you know.” Quinn dragged her tongue across her bottom lip. “About time.” The heat from his naked skin seeped into her, her nipples hard and aching. She couldn’t stop herself from rubbing them against his chest. Anything to ease the yearning that wouldn’t be satisfied until his mouth closed over each peak to devour her.
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He crushed his mouth down on her. The power in his arms, the strength of his mind, the provocative claiming of her mouth all combined to make a sensual whirlpool desperate to suck her under. She moaned against his mouth, nipping his bottom lip with her teeth before tugging it into her mouth. She cupped his erection, her thumb stroking the head of his cock with a slow swirl of friction that made him shudder. Braxton dipped his head, curling his tongue around one dark peak. Her back arched as he finally sealed his mouth over her nipple and pulled fiercely. “Foreplay will kill me,” she growled, scoring her nails across his shoulders. He flicked his tongue across her other beaded nipple. “You wanted this, you won’t rush me.” “We both wanted it.” She closed her hand around him. He hissed out a breath as she pumped his shaft. Slow and soft, then fast and urgent until he started to thrust against her hand. “I’m ready for you,” she murmured against his cheek. “Touch me and see.” Braxton did as she bade, trailing his fingers down her belly to the soft curls between her legs. He parted her slick folds, slipping down to tease her opening. She whimpered as Braxton circled her damp opening, wanting him more than she’d ever wanted anyone. Even riding the feverish high, she knew without a doubt that wanting him had nothing to do with any lust demon. Her inner walls clamped down when he pushed two fingers into her sex. With a guttural cry, Braxton hooked his hands around her thighs, lifting her off the floor. The head of his shaft nestled against her sex, and she could feel his muscles bunched and trembling as he held her in place. Torturing them both. “Now, Braxton.” And then he thrust into her, closing the distance between them to catch the cry of pleasure ripped from her mouth. He withdrew and slammed back inside her again, burying his cock deep… No!
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Quinn pulled back and screamed at the arm that slashed through the darkness and yanked Braxton away from her. She collapsed on the floor, her legs giving out, paralyzed as Brax was pulled into the shadows. The hiss of Shadow Demons surrounded her, filled her head until she pressed her hands to her ears to drown out the sound. The wet tile fell away beneath her and she plummeted into darkness. Her nails raked at the air, desperate for purchase. “Just a bad dream.” The murmured reassurance wrapped her in warmth. Braxton. As quickly as she heard him, he was gone again, and she cried out in frustration, tearing at the thick fog that tangled around her legs, pulling her deeper. Her body hit the ground hard, her hands locked behind her back. Next to her Cass scrambled to her knees and tried to run. A large body shrouded in black snatched her off her feet and shoved her into the corner. A clanking echoed over the chaos and she rolled to her side to see her father fighting the demons off, her mother half sprawled on the floor, bleeding and trembling. Mom! She lay helpless as another demon emerged from the shadows, its red-rimmed eyes blazing in the dark as it grabbed her mother’s ankle and dragged her to her father. There were too many. Every second another one broke past his defenses, each blow they landed weakening him until the slash of his sword did little more than buy him another breath before they attacked again, and again. Until one succeeded in knocking the sword out of his hand. He fell to his knees, then turned to shield her mother— The sound of her own scream brought Quinn awake, her heart hammering through her ribs. “Easy.” Through the tears that blurred her vision, she found Braxton sitting on the bed next to her. Deep threads of pain stretched down her back and arms as she bolted up and
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straight into his arms. She buried her face against his chest, clinging to him as image after image rushed back. Her body trembled so hard she had to clench her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. She closed her eyes, wanting to banish the memories back into her nightmares. Where they weren’t real. Where none of it was real. Each sob felt wrenched from deep inside and she fisted her hands in Braxton’s shirt, suddenly terrified he’d be taken from her too. “Stay with me,” she whispered brokenly. He wrapped his arms around her until she wasn’t sure which one of them was holding on the tightest. “If anything had happened to you—” He kissed her forehead, her cheek, then finally her mouth, the possessive tenderness in his kiss giving her something to fight through the dark for, something to hope for. She didn’t know how long it took before she finally stopped shaking. Braxton had laid back, his arms locked around her waist. She molded herself against his chest and wished the whole world away. He gently rubbed her back until she couldn’t cry any more, and when her mind went blissfully numb, she fell back asleep. And for the first time in weeks, no monsters slipped through the shadows to claim her.
Quinn shifted to get comfortable on the bed she’d been confined to for the past two days. She didn’t care if anyone still wanted to monitor her. She was tired of being poked and prodded. Most of her injuries were healing quickly and the thought of spending another hour in the place—much less another night—was enough to make her plot her escape if the clinic’s doctor decided to keep her. With so much still unknown about the Destroyer gene, any time one of them was injured enough to warrant being admitted to one of the clinics run by the network, the staff were more than happy to put them under the microscope. While she was less than thrilled about being a patient, given the way she felt like she’d been run over by a Mack truck, she hadn’t protested too loudly about staying. Until now.
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She’d also refused to wear a hospital gown another minute. Dressed in a plain navy T-shirt and her favorite cargo pants, her hair washed and even a little makeup on, she no longer looked as though she’d faced down a Scion less than forty-eight hours ago. “Start at the beginning.” As far as Quinn was concerned Rae had put off their talk long enough, and she was done waiting. Although she’d half expected Braxton to side with Rae that maybe they should wait until Quinn was released, he’d insisted on them having the conversation now. He sat on the end of the bed, his arms crossed, his usual stoic expression abandoned for one he usually reserved for his “following protocol” spiels. Only this time he fixed his unimpressed gaze on Rae. Each time Quinn had opened her eyes in the last two days it had been to find him next to her bed. She’d cried on his shoulder, laughed at the faces he made when he uncovered the food they were feeding her, challenged him during every game show they’d watched on the room’s crappy thirteen inch television, and felt herself fall harder for him every second of it. She focused her attention on Rae. “My father was a Shadow Destroyer, wasn’t he?” Rae nodded. “He’d been an active field agent for fifteen years and then assigned a field office of his own to oversee.” Quinn frowned then a sad smile teased over her lips. “The day of his promotion. He’d been happy and my mom looked so relieved. Now I know why.” She closed her eyes, embracing the memory of her father sweeping her and Cass into his arms for a sloppy hug that they’d both rolled their eyes at. “Four months before your father’s death, a telepath Scion crossed over,” Rae continued. “Numerous attempts to track and vanquish it failed. Until your father finally coordinated a successful attack, taking out every lesser demon that had aligned with the Scion.” “But the Scion got away, didn’t it?” Her boss nodded grimly. “Two weeks later it went after your father. When your father didn’t show up for work the next morning, another agent stopped by the house. By
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then it was too late to save them. They found you and Cass tied up and locked in a basement closet.” At the mention of the closet, the room’s four walls seemed to press in on her. She gripped the sheet, bunching the material between her fingers until the worst of the panic the reminder generated had faded. In the last two days she’d experienced the same reaction whenever the memory was thrust to the forefront. “Why lie about how they died? Why tell us they were killed in a car accident?” Out of everything, she struggled with that the most. When her parents were taken from her, and then her own life had been changed when her genes mutated, the network and senior agents like Rae had become like a second family. Knowing they had lied to her… “You and your sister were in shock for days. Given what little bits were coaxed out of the two of you it was obvious you’d witnessed almost everything. A few of the higher ups suggested helping the two of you to cope.” “So we were what, brainwashed?” “With both of you unresponsive to almost anyone but each other they contemplated hypnotically planting the suggestion of a car crash. No one really expected it to take, not with both of you. According to the reports, in a matter of hours the two of you were grieving the loss of your parents naturally instead of traumatized by the memory of them dying right in front of you.” “My DNA mutated that night didn’t it? Not a few weeks later like I’d always believed.” “A war demon had tracked you on your way home one night, but after your parents’ deaths both you and Cass were being watched.” “In case the Scion came back to finish the job?” Rae nodded. “Your stealth abilities were slow to emerge from the night your family was attacked, and simply explaining to you then you’d been attacked by a stealth demon instead of a war demon made sense.”
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Quinn snorted. Made sense to everyone but her. It didn’t matter they thought they were somehow protecting her, they’d let her believe a lie for six years. Hell, she’d let herself believe it. How had she ever faced that war demon so soon after her parents’ deaths and not have her memory triggered. Why not until six years later? “According to the notes in the file, everyone was certain that after you were attacked by the war demon you’d remember everything.” “Guess the head doctors were just that good.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice. Rae held out the file she’d carried in. “Everything is in there.” “How long have you known?” Quinn asked, hating the feeling of betrayal that churned in her stomach. “The information on your parents’ deaths and the surrounding circumstances had been classified even to me until three weeks ago when I pressed my superiors for access.” “But you didn’t feel it important to tell me?” “Based on the reports from Royce and conferring with the high-ups, I was led to believe you might be remembering details of your past on your own. Although it went against my better judgment, I caved to the argument that it was better for you to remember on your own than be told outright.” “My best interest? Right.” “What about the Scion the other night?” Braxton asked Rae. “It knew me,” Quinn said, aware of Braxton’s sharp look. “Said it expected more from me.” The bastard had taken her parents from her, then had gone after Cass before finally coming for her. But the Scion hadn’t killed her. At first she’d believed the master demon hadn’t finished her off because maybe someone had stumbled across them. People leaving Jake’s maybe. A Scion didn’t stay in this realm for years by confronting every innocent it crossed paths with. They were smarter, choosing their confrontations. Which left her to face the fact that it just hadn’t wanted it to end there. It wanted her to suffer, wanted to draw out her pain and indulge in every second of it.
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Braxton paced around the foot of the bed. “So after Quinn’s parents were killed, no one caught up with the Scion?” “No.” Rae looked ready to pace right alongside Braxton, but stood perfectly still. “It went after Cass and then came looking for me. The Scion wants to finish what was started six years ago.” The fading bruises at her throat seemed to tighten as she admitted it aloud. “Why now?” Braxton gripped the frame of her bed. “If the Scion wanted them dead, why didn’t it kill them that night? Why wait six years?” “The Scion wanted to prolong it,” Quinn guessed, suppressing the shiver that wrapped around the base of her spine. Looking more ruffled than Quinn could ever remember, her boss slid into the chair next to the bed. “We all know it’s not uncommon for some Shadow Demons to forge a deeper connection to their victims when they feed on their emotions, making friends or family members a hostile’s next target. We can’t assume this is over.” “I need to see Cass.” “She’s still with Drew. She’s safe.” “Then I want to talk to her again.” They’d shared a brief conversation after Quinn had slept off the worst of the drugs they’d used to ease the pain from her injuries. Cass was handling confinement about as well as she was, and her sister wasn’t stupid or easily pacified. Cass knew there was much more going on than just hunting for the man she believed attacked her. When the topic had come up, Quinn had changed the subject and promised Cass everything would go back to normal soon. “You want to tell her the truth?” Rae asked quietly. “And dump something like this in her lap over the phone? No.” She didn’t even know if she wanted Cass to know the truth. Every time Quinn closed her eyes and saw her parents’ deaths was like a knife to her heart. She didn’t want that for Cass, and at the same time knew what it was to be misled. To be lied to by the people she trusted. How could she live with herself if Cass started to
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remember on her own the way she had? Or if she blamed Quinn for holding out on her, the same way she wanted to blame Rae and the network? Rae took Quinn’s comment as an end to the conversation and slipped out of the room after commenting about getting some safeguards in place. Safeguards that would probably be useless. If the Scion wanted them, it would keep coming until she was taken out. Although she wouldn’t admit it, the brief conversation had left her drained. She needed out of here yet she slumped back against her pillow and closed her eyes. The mattress dipped as Braxton sat on the end of the bed. She knew he wanted to ask why she hadn’t told him the Scion had known her, but she hadn’t wanted to talk about any of it after she’d awakened to find the horrible things she’d dreamed had actually taken place. “It’s like I’m mourning them all over again,” she said a moment later, her gaze trained on the view of the private clinic’s rear parking lot. She met Braxton’s dark amber gaze. “I won’t spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.” “You won’t. We’ll find it.” Braxton vowed.
“What are you working on that’s so interesting?” Braxton looked away from his computer to see Quinn standing in the doorway to his home office. The soft glow from the lamp on his desk cast shadows across the room, only her lower body fully revealed by the meager light. She stepped past the doorway, yawning. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she shuffled into the room. The plain gray cotton shorts and skimpy pink tank top she slept in were as enticing as if she’d strolled into the room completely naked. She paused three feet away, her gaze fastening onto his computer screen. “What’s so captivating?” “You are,” he answered honestly.
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She slowly lifted her eyes, surprise and tenderness reflected on her face. Quinn took her time crossing to where he sat behind his desk. She straddled his lap, her hands sliding around to anchor at the nape of his neck. “So you haven’t gotten tired of having me around?” He could feel her warmth right through her shorts when he gripped her waist. He shifted in the chair, the gesture more of an excuse to feel her rub against his growing erection. “You’ve only been here for three days.” “So you will get tired of me.” Her siren smile licked a flame right through his middle. “Not a chance,” he murmured, then tugged her forward, slanting his mouth across hers. With no thought to rushing things, he lingered over her lips, savoring the taste of her. Her tongue slid hot and teasing across his, making him deepen the kiss. He nipped at her bottom lip, sucking the plump flesh into his mouth, pulling a soft whimper from Quinn. He threaded his fingers into her hair, tipping her head back to plunder her mouth completely, not stopping until his own lungs hungered for air nearly as much as he hungered to work his way deep inside her. Still, there was no hurrying as he slid his mouth down her neck to taste her everywhere. She dropped her head back to give him more room to explore, trembling in his arms when he laved the soft hollow of her throat. Streams of psychic energy pooled around him, tangled and carnal. Quinn’s. He drew back to watch the desire play across her gorgeous face, her kinky black hair framing her already flushed cheeks. The emotion that burrowed through his chest wasn’t entirely unexpected, but his insides still shook with the intensity of it. He curved his palm along her chin, and her eyes drifted shut. “Why did this take us so long?” The sound of her voice lulled the deepest places inside him. He kissed her chin, her cheek. “I used to think it would make things too—”
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“Complicated?” she breathed. Her lips slid slowly over his, the soft touch undoing him one sweet pass of her mouth at a time. “And now?” He caged her face in his hands, kissing her until the answer was effortless. “I wish it hadn’t taken us so long.”
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Chapter Twelve Quinn’s smile transformed her face from striking to breathtaking. She tangled her hands in the ends of his hair, dragging him back to her mouth. There wasn’t anything slow or patient this time as blatant need tore through Braxton’s veins. He found his way under her shirt, and palmed her breast, pleased that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her nipples hardened under his teasing tugs. She arched her back, pressing herself against his hand. He bent and nipped at the stiff peaks, wetting the cotton fabric right through. Rocking her hips, Quinn rubbed her center against the length of his shaft, coaxing a ragged groan from the back of his throat. “I need to feel you on my skin,” Quinn whispered, dragging her teeth along the sensitive flesh below his ear. Taking her cue, he worked her shirt over her head, pitching it to the floor. This time nothing stood between his lips and her breast. He curled his tongue around the tip, sucking slowly. Her breath caught, and she flexed her hips to grind her lower half against him. She hooked her finger over the snap of his jeans. “Not here,” he growled, pushing to his feet and taking her with him. He wanted her in his bed. For three days she’d been staying with him and he’d done his best to keep his hands off her, waiting for her to be sure she’d healed enough. “Good.” Her lips followed a tantalizing path from his neck to his jaw, but she avoided his mouth when he turned his head to capture her lips. She wrapped her thighs around him, and the short walk down the hall was torture as she purposely rocked into his aching cock the entire way. “You need to stop that,” he grunted in warning. Now would not be the time to come so easily unraveled. www.samhainpublishing.com
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Her teeth trapped her bottom lip, and she tipped her head. “I don’t think so.” He stopped and pressed her up against the doorjamb. He thrust against her parted thighs. Her heels dug into his lower back, and she leisurely swiped her tongue along the seam of his lips before pushing inside. Half a second later she rasped her cheek across his. “Is this where I’m supposed to say I give up?” He pivoted around and dropped her in the middle of his bed. He caught her ankle, his other hand sliding up the inside of her thigh. He skimmed the hem of her shorts, and yanked. “This is where you surrender.” She gave a seductive squeal but didn’t scramble off the bed. Maybe she knew he was already half anticipating that. Prepared for it. He ran his gaze from the tips of her painted toes and up her legs, parted just enough to give him a tempting view of her sex. Her chest was flushed and rosy, her breasts full, nipples swollen and hard as she rose up on her elbows. Never had he expected her to want him as much as he wanted her, and if the warm waves of psychic energy curling through his mind didn’t convince him, the feverish look on her face as she crooked her finger at him would have. He stripped off his clothes, reluctant to break eye contact for any longer than necessary. She sat up, her fingers gently cupping his sac. He closed his eyes as she moved her focus to the base of his cock. “We’ll just see who surrenders first.” She wet her lips and drew the flat of her tongue over the head of his shaft. “Yes, let’s.” He pushed her back on the bed. Quinn couldn’t hear a thing beyond the wild pounding of her own heart. She dipped ever so slightly to the left as Braxton placed a knee next to her hip and hovered over her. His fingers skated up the inside of her leg. The muscles running the length of her thigh quivered and bunched, and she eased her legs apart in delicious anticipation. Raw
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need glittered in Braxton’s eyes until she didn’t know how the heat from his gaze alone didn’t ignite every cell in her body. He found her slick center, and she bowed up into his touch. He brushed her opening, and his groan of approval at finding her damp and ready warned her there would be no stopping a complete meltdown. No stopping falling hopelessly in love with him. Braxton parted her cleft, the sluggish pace making her rake the blankets beneath her. God, she needed more. It didn’t matter that she knew she’d still see his face if she closed her eyes. Didn’t matter that his rich scent flooded her mind or that she could still taste him on her lips. That his heart beat in perfect rhythm with hers or that his body responded to a mere brush of her fingers. She needed more. Wanted more. Wanted him. Always him. “Then I surrender,” she whispered. His expression grew both tender and primitive in the same moment, and he thrust his fingers into her sex. Quinn cried out, lifting her hips to meet each fast pump of his thick fingers. He was ruthless as he filled her over and over, until she screamed her release. His body came down on hers, his smooth hot flesh hitting the overload button on her senses. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him to her as his cock pushed past her slick folds to sink deep inside her. She pushed her feet into the mattress, then drew her legs up, moaning as he withdrew and slid deeper still. She opened her eyes to find him staring down at her, and something was unleashed in her heart at what she saw reflected in his eyes. He took her mouth, fierce and possessive, the brutal pleasure of it shooting her over the edge once more. Braxton groaned, his hips riding her hard as he drove his shaft into her sex. Her inner walls clenched and spasmed around him as she cried out against his mouth. The sound in his throat deepened and he slammed into her harder still.
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The roar of his release echoed in her mind as he shuddered and pressed her into the mattress. She could barely drag in a breath. Everything inside her sagged into a molten pool, drunk on the sensations that cocooned her. He lay perfectly still on top of her for a full minute, the racing of his pulse gradually slowing. When he lifted his head again, it wasn’t to say anything, but to pull her heart over heels into a drugging kiss. Completely boneless, she gave only a small whimper of protest when he moved to stretch out beside her. “Sleep,” he murmured, locking one arm around her waist. “Oddly enough I’m wide awake now.” He propped his head up on his palm. “And you wanted to…” She stretched her arms overhead and rolled out of bed. “I think I feel like a shower.” She felt his eyes on her and turned around. “Did you know that I’ve had the most incredible dream of you and I in the shower together…” she trailed off provocatively, wanting to lure him into the shower with her to find out how incredible it would feel in the flesh. She started into the master bathroom, paused. “Touch me. Learn me in all the ways I dream about when I’m at home alone.” Quinn froze, the words whispering through her mind. Her words? Her pulse throttled ahead and she clung to the doorjamb, her nails digging in for purchase as her knees wobbled. “Quinn?” His voice sounded far away as she fought the fog that shifted and swirled through her mind. She closed her eyes. “You know you won’t remember this in the morning.” “I might,” she whispered against his mouth. “Probably not.” She shook her head. “I want you so badly nothing is going to let me forget what it feels like to finally have your hands on me.”
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Her breath left her lungs in a startling whoosh, and she turned around, leaning into the doorframe. “Brax?” “Yeah?” She didn’t even need to look him in the face. She heard in it in his tone. The caution, the uncertainty. She slowly raised her gaze to his and like the final strike to the wall in her mind, everything started to crumble. More memories. She shook her head, not believing this was happening to her. Not again. Quinn swallowed past the thickening lump in her throat. “Not you too.” Not Braxton. She squeezed her eyes shut wishing she hadn’t gotten out of bed. “I…wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you.” She laughed, the sound borderline hysterical, more so because it seemed pathetic to wonder if this would be what finally made her snap into a million pieces and fall apart. This wasn’t her. She’d always been strong. She wouldn’t do this again. Wouldn’t let it slip beyond her control. “It happened, didn’t it? That dream of us in the shower. It happened.” “The night you were infected by the lust demon.” “That was over two months ago.” The first burst of hurt uncoiled in her stomach. “I know,” he said quietly. She waited, hoping for some foolish second he had the perfect excuse for not telling her what happened between them. As though her brain was now set in permanent replay, it was too easy to recall the way he’d followed her into the bathroom, taking her against the wall, giving her what they’d both wanted. And then acting the next day as though it never happened—lying to her when she’d asked if anything had happened. Anger rushed up from the deepest part of her heart, boiling over. He stood motionless. “That’s all you have to say? ‘I know’? Jesus, Braxton.” She stalked across the room to where her bag was. “Wait a second.”
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She ran her hands through her hair. “God, I was so grateful this last week that I had you. Someone to just be there, and then it turns out you’ve been about as honest with me as everyone else.” She yanked her clothes on. “Just listen to me for a minute.” The rough plea in his voice slowed her down. She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting, her heart sinking with every second that he hesitated. “A dozen times I wanted to tell you.” Quinn gave him a blank look. That was his best foot forward, the first thing he had to say? “Right.” She pivoted around for the door. She needed to get out of there. Braxton cut her off, blocking her path. “I never wanted to get involved with anyone I worked with. Things had always been comfortable between us—” She snorted. “Then you were infected and knowing—hearing—that you wanted me as much as I wanted you, I just…stopped fighting it.” “Good for you.” She’d counted on him that night to tell her the truth if the infection affected her memory. She tried to shove past him. He barely gave an inch. She might be faster than he was, but no amount of speed would take her through the wall of his chest without one of them getting hurt. Seeing as how her insides weren’t all that keen on any more pain than necessary, that wasn’t an option. “Part of me hoped you’d remember,” Braxton added, his determined expression tearing at her. “And the other part thought maybe it was for the best that you didn’t. That everything would get messy and complicated and it would screw up our professional relationship.” “Messy?” She shook her head, realization dawning with a greasy swirl in her stomach. “Or were you just worried that it would look like you were taking advantage of me? Couldn’t risk having a mark on that clean record. Wouldn’t want to let Rae down.” The guilt that flashed across his face turned her heart cold. “Move out of the way, Braxton.”
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“No.” “Now!” “I thought if I just gave it some time, and if it wasn’t just the infection talking that I’d see some glimmer of it in you.” “How would you know? After that day you started avoiding me like the fucking plague. You never stayed alone in a room with me long enough after that to see a damn thing.” He dragged his hands down his face, unblocking the door enough so that she could slip by him. She was already down the stairs before he reached the end of the hall. “Damn it, Quinn. You can’t just take off on your own.” She didn’t bother responding, snatching her keys off the kitchen counter, and slipped outside. Dusk had already turned the sky a fading scarlet as she stormed down the driveway with no destination in mind other than somewhere away from Braxton’s.
He tipped the bottle back and chugged until the amber liquid succeeded in numbing the twisting in his gut. The sensation would pass in a minute or two, after which he planned to have another beer, followed by another. “Can’t say I expected this.” Braxton acknowledged Gage with a grim smile and a tip of his head. His friend slid into the booth opposite him. “Is Jordan with her?” Gage nodded, waving to Kane for a beer for himself. He eyed the few empty bottles already on the table. “I think I would have gone with the hard stuff myself.” “Now that would just be irresponsible, wouldn’t it?” He mulled it over anyway, thinking the suggestion had a certain amount of merit. Might make it easier to forget the look on Quinn’s face before she walked out. Kane delivered Gage’s beer with little time for talking. The small bar was doing a brisk business tonight. No sooner did Kane fill an order than another three patrons
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stepped up to the bar. Braxton had always liked the setting, the dim lighting and sports memorabilia covered walls always good to help him unwind after an assignment. Tonight, however, nothing seemed to be unwinding the tension digging in like burs tangled around his spine. Braxton raised his bottle in salute and clinked it against Gage’s. “To me being a complete ass.” “Fucking up is practically a rite of passage in our line of work.” He picked at the label on his beer. “I should have told her.” Gage didn’t comment either way, and Braxton finally met his friend’s gaze as the silence stretched between them. Crossing his arms, Gage leaned back in the booth. “I let Jordan think I was dead for years. I’m the last one about to cast stones here. So why didn’t you tell her?” “You heard me when I said I was an ass, right?” “Did you tell her that?” Gage took a long swallow of his beer. “Yeah, but she was already in the car and halfway down the road by then.” Gage snorted. “You’re lucky you got a word out before she bolted.” “I wanted to tell her, but with everything else…” How many opportunities had he let slip by him? More than once his fear that she would react exactly as she had stopped him. Since he’d sat down he couldn’t stop imagining how differently things might have turned out if he’d told her the truth sooner. “I know how it is, man. Believe me, I know.” Braxton stared into his bottle. “So how did you and Jordan work that out?” Gage grinned. “If you ask her we still are.” “Comforting.” He finished his beer, but couldn’t bring himself to reach for the other full one on the table. “Quinn’s been through a lot. Just give her a little time.” “Time is something we might not have.” Not with a Scion potentially lurking close by. He moved to stand up.
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“Whoa, buddy.” Gage put his hand on Braxton’s shoulder, propelling him back into the booth. “Quinn is pissed. She needs to blow off some steam. She’ll be fine. Jordan is with her and shortly she’ll be at our place. She’s not stupid enough to try and stay at her place alone. Not with a Scion gunning for her ass.” “I feel much better, thanks,” Braxton said dryly. Gage sighed. “Sorry.” He jerked his head at the remaining beer. “How about I just give you a ride home?” Quinn had only been staying with him for a few days and already the thought of walking through the door knowing she wouldn’t be there made the freshly scarred part of his heart ache all over again. And he had no one to blame but himself.
“Look, I know what’s it’s like to be in the dark about something pretty huge.” Jordan headed out of Jake’s and turned down the sidewalk, walking along next to Quinn. Quinn allowed herself only a moment’s glance over her shoulder to the back of the parking lot where the Scion could have ended everything for her. A shiver danced across the back of her neck, almost as though she expected it to come for her again. She wouldn’t be caught off guard the next time, wouldn’t allow herself to be cornered. Both the Scion and the mimic demon had used the images from her nightmares to screw with her head. Knowing the truth about what happened to her parents—as hard as it was—made her stronger. There would be no more cringing at the voices in her head, no more cowering from the memories she had no choice but to come to terms with. She’d survived that night six years ago. She’d survive this. Whatever it took. She watched her feet as they circled the block, heading back towards her place. She’d been so quick to leave Braxton’s she hadn’t stopped to gather the few things she’d taken along when she’d been released from the clinic. “Maybe we’re too different for things to really work out.” Admitting that, much less saying it aloud, drove the knife a little deeper under the edge of her heart. “Even before
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that night at the field office and we… I always drove him up the wall. For every moment he stays in control and follows protocol, I’m kicking back and taking it as it comes. He likes to work on his car and screw around on the computer. I’m addicted to TV and trolling at night for demons.” Jordan burst out laughing. Quinn stopped and glared at her friend. In defense, Jordan held a hand up. “Braxton is a jackass for lying to you. I’m not even going to disagree with that. But don’t go hunting for excuses as to why things won’t work out between you two so you don’t have to deal with what happened.” “I’m not.” Jordan shot her a doubtful look. “I get to be mad.” He’d lied to her. For two fucking months. In a way she’d come to grudgingly accept the reasons the network had sought to keep the truth from her and Cass. She wasn’t happy, but she understood the need to always balance the truth with protecting the innocent. But Braxton keeping the truth from her protected no one but himself. “You get to be downright volatile,” Jordan agreed. “But speaking from experience…” She trailed off, glancing sharply down the street. “I think you might have had company tonight.” Quinn dug her key from her pocket and let them into the building. She concentrated, filtering through each sense until, like Jordan, she was certain there were no demons laying in wait for them within her apartment. “One has been here in the last hour,” Jordan said. “Maybe more than one. We should make this brief.” Quinn nodded, hating the feeling of knowing hostiles had crossed the line and broken into her home. She hastily grabbed a few things and stuffed them in a bag to take to Jordan’s. In the morning she’d figure out what her next move would be. She damn well couldn’t keep going like this. She had a life and so did her sister. She was done letting the past interfere with the present.
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Jordan was on her cell phone when Quinn finished up. Even without hearing the threads of conversation about Gage and Braxton being at Kane’s, she would have known the subject involved her by the expression on Jordan’s face. “I’ll see you at home,” she said into the phone, then disconnected. “How did you guys work through the fact that Gage lied to you?” “Well, as far as Gage knows, we’re still working through it.” Jordan winked.
He was waiting for Quinn the second she emerged from Royce’s office the following morning. The moment she spotted him, she pivoted around, heading in the opposite direction. As mad as she was entitled to be at him, Braxton wasn’t letting her just walk away. After Gage had dropped him off last night, he’d paced the halls, finding nothing to help him figure out how to fix things with Quinn. Not even working on his car had taken his mind off what he would do if she wanted to end things. He caught up with Quinn a little too easily. “You can’t avoid me forever.” “No, but I figure two months should make us about even.” “Quinn, just listen to me.” He sidestepped her, cutting her off. “There’s nothing to say. You had a dozen opportunities to tell me the truth and chose not to.” “It’s not that simple.” He cringed as he realized how lame that sounded. “It never is with you.” “So I should have told you the morning after you were infected when you made it clear the idea of just coming on to me freaked you out?” Quinn’s eyes shrank dangerously. “I was afraid that I had said or done something that made you uncomfortable. That you might know how much I was attracted to you when I wasn’t certain what you felt for me.” “Had I realized that, I wouldn’t have convinced myself that the things you said were driven by the infection.”
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She stabbed a finger at him accusingly. “How many times before then did I ask you to go for a beer, to hang out?” “I thought it was a bad idea.” “Along with telling me the truth apparently.” She spun on her heel to stalk away from him. He ran to keep up with her. “I was an idiot. And then after the day in the elevator it hit me how stupid I had been.” “And yet you didn’t rush to tell me then either. Not even after we’d slept together several times.” She stormed around the corner towards the break room. “Should I have told you when Cass was missing? Or when that mimic demon nearly buried a dagger in your heart? Or when you learned the truth about your parents?” Quinn whipped around so fast it made his own neck hurt. “So it’s my fault you didn’t tell me the truth?” Sharp, predatory steps closed the distance between them. “No damn it, I just didn’t want to see you hurting any more than you were already were.” “Ah, yes. Much better to save it to be the last bomb dropped.” Hurt lingered under the acidic tone. Frustration wormed through his stomach. “I’m not trying to blame you for the fact I wasn’t honest with you, but it doesn’t change what’s between us.” The brittle edge to her laugh worried him more than watching any demon go after her. “And that would be what? Sex? Complications? Isn’t that what you wanted to avoid in the first place?” “That was before I fell in love with you.” She flinched as though he’d taken a swing at her, then her eyes brightened with anger. “You son of a bitch.” Without another word she stalked away.
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Quinn slammed her locker shut, wishing it was Braxton’s face. Damn him. Damn him for lying to her. And damn him for tossing out that he loved her at the worst possible moment. She wanted to be mad. Needed to be mad, and then he had to say the only thing that could possibly wrench her insides any tighter. She pressed her forehead against the locker, pulling in a deep breath. She didn’t know whether to be grateful he’d let her walk away or annoyed that he could throw an admission like that into the mix and then let her stew on it. “Rough morning?” Quinn planted both palms against the cool metal and shoved away to face Darcy. “Understatement of the year to the extreme.” She’d been prepared for a lot of things this morning, counting on at least one confrontation with Braxton. She hadn’t anticipated him going so far as to tell her he loved her. She clenched her fist at her side, clueless as to what to do with that. The timing couldn’t have been more wrong, but then nothing about their relationship had ever been predictable. For as long as she could remember, she thrived on riding the moment and somewhere in the last two weeks that was something else that had been stripped from her. Under other circumstances his confession would have… Quinn shook her head. It didn’t matter how things might have turned out once upon a time. Darcy propped her foot up on the bench to adjust her shoelace. “Rae wasn’t kidding when she said I was in for a new working dynamic when I transferred in.” “How long have you been a Destroyer?” Right now she’d talk about dust mites if it would help take her mind off Braxton. “A year and a half. You?” “Six years.” “Was it bad?” Darcy reached behind her, interlocking her fingers to pull her arms back in a stretch. Quinn assumed the other agent was talking about the initial demon attack that triggered the gene mutation. “I didn’t kick any ass back then if that’s what you mean.”
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Darcy laughed, and Quinn was reminded of how lucky she was to work with people she got along with. Darcy had been around less than a week and already Quinn knew she was a great addition to their growing field office. Quinn pulled her hair back in a clip. “What about you?” Darcy’s eyes flickered for half a beat, then she tipped her head questioningly. “Will talking about me make the morning better?” She couldn’t help but wonder if the other agent asked the question to avoid answering or because she was picking up on the stray thoughts Quinn couldn’t quite keep a lid on. Given the way every demon and their brother seemed to be able to get a read on her these days, it wouldn’t surprise Quinn. Darcy held her hands up. “Not cheating. Promise.” Quinn smiled despite her turbulent mood. “So Jordan and Gage left this morning on individual assignments,” Darcy said. “Those two certainly have an interesting dynamic.” “I’ve always thought so.” Quinn dug out her bag and started to change. “Has Rae mentioned when she thought she’d be sending you out?” “Once she’s certain my skills are up to par with the rest of you.” “Hence the training session this morning,” Quinn surmised, swapping her shoes for sneakers. “Yeah. Should be interesting.” Something in Darcy’s tone caught Quinn’s attention. She opened her mouth to ask about that only to be cut off as the door to the locker room opened. Rae poked her head around the corner. “You two all set?” Deciding to be thankful for something to do other than catch up on the backlog of paperwork she’d been avoiding for days, Quinn followed them out. If she couldn’t be out in the field, working out in the training room was somewhat productive. Or so she thought until she emerged from the locker room and found Braxton standing in the middle of the mat.
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Rae glanced at Darcy. “I thought it might be beneficial to watch these two go a round or two. Assuming you’re up for it, Quinn?” It was the underlying reservation that Quinn couldn’t handle the skirmish that made her spine snap straight. “No problem.” Rae nodded. “Good.” She motioned Darcy to the side. “They’ve always been interesting to watch.” The passing comment was so loaded with speculation Quinn could only stare at her boss. Rae shrugged innocently, suddenly finding a scuff on the toe of her shoe infinitely more interesting. “You okay with this?” Braxton’s voice forced her to acknowledge his presence. Her stomach knotted as she met his gaze, nothing on his face giving away what was going on in his head. Not even a glimmer of what he’d told her earlier flickered in his expression. “It’s fine.” “If you want, I’ll go easy,” he said completely deadpan. From the corner of her eye she saw Darcy wince at the comment and underlying challenge. Quinn ignored the dig. She didn’t need to be baited. If nothing else Rae had just handed her the opportunity to let off some steam, and judging by the twitching of her boss’s mouth, Rae knew it too. “Weapon of choice?” “No weapon,” she answered, deciding she’d rather skip the buffer zone and go right in for the kill.
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Chapter Thirteen “Suit yourself.” A devilish smile played across Braxton’s mouth before he made the first move, driving his arm forward to catch her in the side. Quinn glided effortlessly out of reach, swinging around to push him from behind. It was a move she’d had success with a hundred times when they’d sparred in the past. Today though, he was ready for it, spinning around to snare her wrist, and yanking her with him as he pitched forward. His ankle shot between hers as he turned, trying to send her to the mat ahead of him. Not this time. She wrenched hard on the grip he had on her, working free, but not managing to escape with her balance intact. Her knee barely scraped the mat before she was back on her feet, circling him. “Sure you’re not too sore for this?” he taunted, letting her glimpse the man she’d always enjoyed sparring with before everything fell apart. “When we’re done, I’ll let you know.” “Oh, you and I are far from done,” he vowed, making it perfectly clear he wasn’t talking about this impromptu match. She wasn’t in the mood for banter this morning. She wanted to kick his ass and wipe the smirk off his face. “I don’t know,” Quinn ventured, feinting to the right and then ducking to make a strike low on his left. “I’m not sure you’ve got what it takes to hang on.” With a surprising efficiency in anticipating her next move, he dodged and countered with a kick that grazed her hip. “I think I’ve got enough figured out to come out on top.” It was easy to smile when she had escaped a direct hit. “Being cocky has never been one of your strengths.”
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“Who needs to be cocky when it’s a sure thing?” Again he anticipated her, erasing her speed as an advantage. Thrown off balance, both physically and mentally, she failed to deflect his next attack. He was on her the second her back hit the mat. A flicker of triumph glinted in his eyes. “You’re getting in my head,” she snapped, annoyed that she wasn’t noticing it. It shouldn’t have surprised her, but it still pissed her off. Braxton shook his head. “No, you’ve just stopped trying to keep me out.” “What the hell does that mean?” she snapped. She didn’t wait for him to answer and brought her knee up to wedge between their bodies. She planted a foot and rocked up to send him sailing over her head. He rolled to his feet, barely taking a breath before coming at her again. Deciding to let him tire himself out for a bit, she made only enough moves to elude him. A knowing grin parted his lips. “Playing it safe changes nothing.” Her indelicate snort was anything but amused. “This coming from the rule-abiding Boy Scout?” “Call it an epiphany.” “Sounds insightful,” she mocked, switching around to come at him from behind. Like the other times, he was operating half a second ahead of her, keeping them on even keel. He jerked her against him. Hard. “Sometimes all it takes is the right motivation.” “Or fear,” she growled. She locked her leg around his ankle and toppled him backward. She escaped the hand that shot out to take her down too, but missed avoiding the fast sweep of his other hand snaking out to catch her heel at the last second. The air was knocked out of her on impact, and she scrambled to regain her footing. Braxton managed to throw his leg over hers, hovering over her to keep her shoulders pinned. “I’m not afraid of what I feel. Can you say the same?” She let herself go limp. “There is something that I’m afraid of,” she murmured. His brows gathered together, his gaze darting to her mouth for half a beat.
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With one last burst of speed, she jostled him off and had him face first on the mat, one arm wrenched behind his back, her knee pressed to his spine. “Letting you think you could take me today.” She backed away, wondering why he didn’t roll immediately to his feet to come at her. Her heart thumped viciously in her chest, but she was barely winded. “She’s all yours, Darcy,” Braxton said without meeting Quinn’s eyes, then strode towards the locker room. Quinn watched him go and noticed Darcy hesitated to join her on the mat. “Fuck!” Quinn stalked into the locker room behind him, skidding to a stop at finding Braxton leaning against the end of the row of lockers as though he’d expected her. She swiveled around, rethinking talking to him, and then changed her mind. “You’re not playing goddamn fair. You weren’t honest with me.” “Nope.” “For weeks.” She doubted he needed the reminder, but any excuse at driving that particular point home felt like a good move to Quinn. He nodded slowly, regret softening the tight lines around his mouth. Quinn swallowed, refusing to cave now. Damn it, she’d counted on him. Needed him like she’d never needed anyone, and he had kept the truth from her. “You never once let on the first time we were together, that it really wasn’t the first time.” “Guilty on all counts.” His agreeableness was starting to grate on her last nerve. “You’ve always been upfront with everyone, Brax. Everyone but me.” “You’re different,” he said gently. “So that means I deserve less consideration?” “No, it means it’s not always so black and white where you’re concerned. I wish it was. I wish I hadn’t made some of the calls that I have. Wished I hadn’t pushed you away. I fucked up, but I meant what I said this morning, Quinn.”
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The sincerity in his gaze burned a hole right through her resolve. Her insides trembled as she exhaled slowly. “And what do I do with that? I don’t want to love you right now, I just want to be—” She watched him grin. “What?” she snapped. “Nothing.” She scowled at him, dropping down on the bench. “I want everything to slow down. It seems like the second things look all right in my world something gets yanked out of place and all the cards fall.” As determined as she was, even she couldn’t guess if she’d be strong enough to pick them all up the next time. Braxton straightened. “If you need to be mad at me for a while to make things all right in your world again, I’ll deal with it. But not forever,” he said softly, and walked out. Quinn lay back on the bench and draped her arm across her eyes. Her heart warred with the hurt over him not telling her what had happened between them for two months. What if she hadn’t had the nightmares or if Cass hadn’t been taken? If they hadn’t been working together this time would he have faced what was between them, or gone on ignoring her until working in the same office became unbearable? Some part of her refused to believe it would have ever come to that. The same part that knew sooner or later she’d have to forgive him for the secret. It was either that or lose him altogether. The only thing that hurt more than reliving her parents’ deaths was imagining Braxton not in her life. Damn, she really needed a drink right about now. She didn’t realize she’d said that out loud until a voice answered back. “You buying?” Quinn bolted up on the bench, cheerfully screaming when she spotted Cass. She was on her feet, her arms around her sister before she’d even thought to hold back her natural speed. Cass’s arms were just as sturdy, threatening to cut off Quinn’s air supply. “You screwed up your hair.” Cass pulled back to tug at the end of the kinky black strands.
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“I know.” Quinn regarded her sister carefully, wondering what to say…where to begin. There was so much to say and yet she was terrified of the truth hurting the only family she had. “You know the truth now, don’t you?” Cass’s quiet question came out of nowhere. “About Mom and Dad,” she added. Anger rode hard in Quinn’s chest. “They told you?” Cass smiled sadly and shook her head. “I always knew deep down it wasn’t a car accident, knew that what I wanted to think was just a bad dream I had one night was somehow real.” She sank down onto the bench Quinn had vacated. “I remember watching you in those first days after we lost them, trying to figure out if you were like me and afraid to believe the worst of the two truths, or if you really believed Mom and Dad died in a car accident.” “You never said anything.” Not once had she ever given Quinn a reason to believe she had doubted what they’d been told. “Either I was crazy or they really did die at the hands of a monster and you were blessed not to remember any of it. For so long when I closed my eyes and saw it happen, I thought you were lucky that you didn’t have to remember it. When that thing broke into my house and came for me…” Her heart squeezed for what her sister had endured alone. “All this time…” Quinn broke off, too floored by the change of events to continue, and at the same time it made so much sense. The way Cass had become so withdrawn, how she wanted to get out from under the people who took care of them in the weeks immediately after their parents’ deaths, wanted them to be on their own. “I can remember Dad trying to fight them off. The way he moved and fought. You’re like him aren’t you?” “Yeah.” The information in Rae’s files showed their dad had been initiated by a war demon. Years later it made sense why Quinn never once remembered her father ill or ever needing to take a sick day.
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“The way you moved a minute ago, your obsession with weapons you always tried to dismiss, and then Drew…” “What about him?” Quinn demanded, ready to hunt down the womanizing Destroyer if he’d so much as breathed wrong in Cass’s direction. Her sister laughed. “Nothing like that. I mean I could tell he was different and I saw his sword. Plus you two have the same tattoo. I didn’t sleep with him to see it if that’s what you’re wondering,” she added as Quinn’s jaw dropped. “Dad had one too.” Quinn frowned. “He did?” She could remember he’d sported a small tattoo on the back of his shoulder blade. She recalled they’d teased him about getting it touched up so the image was clear, and he’d only laughed at them. “Not like yours,” Cass clarified, “but one with a sword with a flame around it.” Since every field office often had their own version, it made sense his tattoo would have been different from the two she had. The reminder jogged her memory, and at the same time made Quinn wonder over what other details she may have let herself forget about her parents. Guilt churned in her stomach. “I only wanted to keep you safe, Cass.” Anger gleamed like burning glass in Cass’s eyes. “That’s why you colored your hair. You never left my house. You stayed to wait for it, didn’t you?” Quinn ducked her head. “Yeah.” Cass brushed her finger across the small scar at the edge of Quinn’s forehead. What sounded suspiciously like tears clogged her sister’s throat. “Were you hurt?” “Not that time.” “Sorry to interrupt,” Rae said quietly from the doorway, “but we have a briefing in a few minutes that can’t wait. Cass, you can hang out in the personal quarters I already pointed out.” “Sure.” Rae turned around, but Quinn called out to stop her boss. “I thought you wanted to keep Cass tucked away?” “Braxton pointed out that it was easier if you all stuck together than having Cass and Drew isolated.”
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“Brax said that?” The same person who had initially agreed with Rae on the subject? Rae smiled gently. “Some things are more important than playing it safe.” She left them alone once more. “We’ve got a lot to talk about,” Cass said, reading Quinn’s mind easily. The weight bearing down on her chest lightened. “Yeah, we do.”
It took everything inside Braxton not to stare at Quinn throughout the briefing. If he didn’t think it would make her even angrier, he’d push at her mental shields just to test them. Something was different there. No longer did he feel so closed off from her. Both disappointed and pleased, he’d sought out Darcy before his planned stint on the training mat, and had asked her to probe at Quinn’s mental shields. He had feared everything that happened had left her mind too vulnerable for the telepath Scion that Braxton wasn’t convinced had moved on. To his surprise Darcy hadn’t been able to get a fix on Quinn during the entire match. He had, however, picked up on exactly what she intended to do more than once during their sparring. Which led him back to the same question. What was different? He listened to Rae, half processing her status update on the continued network-wide investigation into the potential moles, but studied Quinn from the corner of his eye. He hadn’t intended to be that rough with her earlier, afraid to aggravate some of her injuries. Instead it had turned into a competition that meant so much more than just winning a single match. He just couldn’t be sure which one of them had come out of it the victor. I don’t want to love you right now. He smiled at the memory, wondering if he was reading too much into a comment said in the heat of the moment, wondering if she really did love him. “Did I say something amusing, Agent Murphy?”
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He shook his head, not missing the curious smirk on Darcy’s face as she shot Quinn a sideways glance. What had he missed? “Braxton?” “Yeah?” he answered distractedly, forcing himself to pay attention to Rae. “I’m good.” His boss watched him for another second, then satisfied he was with her, patched Jordan and Gage into the rest of the briefing. Braxton saw Darcy sketch something on the notebook she’d flipped open in front of her. He leaned forward to see across the table. “What’s that?” “A fish,” she silently answered back, the muscle in her cheek twitching as though she fought a smile. She pushed the notepad in between her and Quinn. Quinn looked at the page and rolled her eyes. Rae crossed her arms. “Am I missing something this morning?” Neither Darcy nor Quinn was fast enough to hide the drawing before Rae snapped it up. She arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “What’s this?” “Looks like a fish,” Braxton put in, trying to figure out the significance. He couldn’t decide if Quinn avoided looking in his direction because of what was said in the locker room earlier or if it had something to do with Darcy’s sketch. Rae pursed her lips, waiting. “Bored?” “She’s into astrology,” Quinn explained. Darcy bobbed her head a little too vigorously. “Quinn’s a Pisces.” Braxton leaned back in his chair and wondered what the two of them were up to. “She’s an Aries, actually.” “My mistake.” Darcy quickly picked up one of the printouts Rae had handed out when they’d all sat down.
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Drew, who’d been lounging half asleep in his seat across from Quinn, leaned up to see the picture Rae held. “Looks like Mr. Murphy to me.” He covered his mouth on a yawn. “Mr. Murphy?” Rae asked before Braxton could get the same question out. “Yeah,” Drew answered sleepily, oblivious to the death glare aimed at him from across the table. “Quinn’s goldfish. I think this one is the twelfth incarnation.” Rae looked stupefied. Darcy—mildly embarrassed. Quinn slumped in her chair. Braxton surprised them all by bursting out laughing. Drew opened one eye and gave the page another skim, the gleam in his eye far from the innocence he projected. “The real one looks a lot more like you, Brax.”
The office was quiet as the clock in the office hit nine in the evening. Braxton tipped back in his chair and scrubbed his hands down his face. There was no way he was leaving before he made sure Quinn was okay. She’d avoided being alone with him for the rest of the day, but he refused to let her forget that he was there. Waiting. Drew strolled by with Cass at his side. “Hey.” He pulled Drew’s standby tracker from the docking station on his desk and handed it over. “Try to go more than two weeks without breaking it this time.” Drew frowned good-naturedly. “How is it my fault they’re so fragile?” Braxton refrained from commenting on the recurring issue that it was often the agents who were the problem. “Where are you two headed?” “Cass can’t get enough of my company and invited me to crash on the couch at the temporary safe house Rae has set up for her and Quinn.” Cass rolled her eyes. “I believe Rae’s words were, ‘Drew you’re on safe house duty’.” “Who am I to complain about being surrounded by two good looking women? Conjures all kinds of wicked fantasies doesn’t it?” He grinned unapologetically at Braxton.
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Braxton growled at him, unimpressed by the reminder he’d be sleeping alone again tonight. He’d spent years that way and suddenly his bed seemed too empty without Quinn there with him. “Too easy,” Drew muttered steering Cass towards the elevator. “Quinn not leaving with you guys?” Cass glanced back over her shoulder. “She said she had a couple things to take care of.” Braxton waited until they stepped into the elevator then went in search of her. He didn’t have to go very far. She stood in the open doorway to the field office’s personal quarters. Not once in two months had he ventured inside. For weeks he’d preferred to avoid the reminder of what they’d shared. Of what he’d turned his back on. He hesitated, and then walked up behind her. “I guess I should be grateful to that lust demon. If I hadn’t been infected, hadn’t been restrained that night, the switch in my memory might not have been flipped.” Once upon a time he would have taken that as a cue to walk away, to let her keep her distance. Now more than ever it seemed important to prove to her that he wouldn’t turn away from her again. She stiffened as he put his hands on her hips, but she didn’t pull away. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the wild scent of her hair. “I’m sorry I hurt you, but I’m not sorry it happened between us.” “You didn’t want to give in,” she mused quietly. “You were…persuasive.” “I wanted you pretty damn bad.” The grudging admission gave him hope. “As in past tense?” She turned her face, and his jaw rasped against her cheek. Her lips parted, but no sound emerged. Endless seconds ticked off in his head. “I want to be furious with you,” she breathed. He slid his hand up the side of her throat, tipping her chin back. “But?”
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“You’ve always made it so hard to hate you.” “Then don’t.” He lowered his head, sweeping his mouth tenderly across hers. Quinn turned in his arms. “It’s not that easy. God, every time I used to convince myself there was nothing between us, I’d catch some fleeting glimmer of the man I couldn’t get out of my head. I can hardly remember a time when I didn’t want you. Didn’t want something more between us.” He touched his forehead to hers. “Then don’t give up on me now. On us.” “It’s hard to be mad at someone for trying—however misguided—to protect the people they care about. I’ve done it with Cass for so long I can barely remember that there are still people I can play it straight with.” “I’m still not off the hook, am I?” “Not quite yet.” She looked at the floor, then finally back at his face. She opened her mouth, but glanced down the hall instead of clarifying exactly what she meant by that. Rae’s heels clicked down the corridor before she rounded the corner, coming into view. “Glad I caught you two. Temporal distortion two miles out.” He stopped himself from pulling Quinn back into his arms as she stepped around him to face Rae. “I thought I was still off the active roster?” Rae glanced back and forth between them, recognizing she’d interrupted something important, but that it couldn’t be helped. She fixed her critical gaze on Quinn. “Are you trying to talk me out of it?” “Hell no.” “Then why are you still standing here?”
“I’m really sick of lust demons.” Braxton unsheathed his sword from the small scabbard strapped to his back. He couldn’t be sure, but the telltale flicker of a smile around Quinn’s lips looked damned promising.
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“You can have it,” she offered, peering over the edge of the fourth floor building still under construction. Waving her dagger tauntingly, she retreated from the ledge and covered the opening towards the temporary elevator the construction crew used. “Rock, paper, scissors?” He didn’t take his eyes off the hostile who couldn’t seem to make up its mind if it was better to make a break to get past them or just save itself the trouble and jump over the side of the building. Quinn snorted, but humored him. She grinned a moment later when her open palm covered his fist. “But I’m still passing.” “Then what was the point of that?” She jerked her head towards the hostile. “Makes them wonder what the hell we’re doing. Besides, maybe I’ll get lucky and you’ll get infected this time.” “Revenge is only a superficial satisfaction.” “Not if I locked you up with Drew,” she purred. He winced. “That’s a bit harsh.” “Says who?” Knowing that this wouldn’t be a conversation he could win, he advanced on the lust demon, wanting the hostile vanquished so he could spend time alone with Quinn before he took her to the temporary safe house. The lust demon, a female with short brown hair and undoubtedly aiming for the girlnext-door look with her plain white T-shirt and jeans, finally started to get into the game. Ruby-red nails curled like a she-devil out to draw first blood, and it attacked with a wide punch that didn’t come anywhere near Braxton. The demon’s pissed-off screech reverberated from the exposed rafters. Its gaze darted to Quinn. Braxton didn’t need to get a fix on the hostile’s thoughts to see that Quinn was of interest, not when the creature looked at Quinn and licked its damn lips. The fight would be over too quickly, he realized. He’d never been one to draw out a vanquishing, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from taking his time, purposely goading the creature to make a move only to easily deflect each attempt. Finding a weak
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spot, he pushed into the demon’s thoughts, working deep to plant the certainty the lust demon would die tonight. Realizing what he was doing, the hostile snarled at him, cursing him in ancient tongues he was more familiar with than most. “You’re not actually playing with the demon are you, Brax?” He didn’t stop to look at Quinn. “Just taking a page out of your book.” The demon lashed out, but Braxton didn’t break the mental connection. He deflected a random kick, wanting the creature to see its failure, know there would be no more feeding on the emotions of others. Game over. Red-rimmed eyes narrowed to vicious slits, and Braxton grinned. Then it bolted for Quinn. Unprepared for that sharp sprint to the left—stupid as it was on the demon’s part— he couldn’t get between them in time. Not that he needed to. Quinn didn’t move an inch, waiting until the demon was with striking distance and brought both hands up, daggers at the ready. The demon didn’t have enough time to react before she drove them home and wrenched them in opposite directions to sever the hostile’s head. The manifested body pitched forward, erupting in blue flames before it even hit the ground. Quinn tucked her daggers back into the straps at her thighs. Braxton slid his sword in the scabbard, adrenaline still pumping through him. He strode towards her. Her eyes widened, and she scrambled back a step. He kept coming, didn’t stop until she was backed up against one of the interior walls. She shook her head, but he caged her face in his hands, crushing his mouth down on hers, silencing what few words left her mouth as he devoured her lips. The rich taste of her—one he’d never get out of his head—consumed him. His tongue tangled with hers, sweeping the sweet recess of her mouth until he strained for control that was quickly spiraling beyond reach.
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Quinn pushed him back a step, but he caught her wrists in his hands and pushed them over her head. “That night at the field office, you were determined not to take no for an answer. Now it’s my turn to persuade you to stay.” “I was under the influence of a lust demon,” she reminded him, her voice breathless. “What happened to it being what you wanted?” She didn’t say anything. “That’s what I thought,” he growled and took complete possession of her mouth again. Only when he’d dragged a throaty moan from her lips—one that echoed inside him—did he jerk her shirt up. He tugged her bra down until her breasts were free. Her nipples hardened under his gaze. He lowered his head to flick his tongue over the beaded tip. “Still want me to stop?” “Are you being cocky again? Because I’m not sure I can handle that.” “Remember what I said about a sure thing?” Quinn rolled her eyes, her expression at war with the way she responded to his touch. “Putty in my hands,” he murmured against her throat, plucking at her nipple until she whimpered. “You wish.” For all her talk of resistance, she made no attempt to deny the hunger he felt unfurling inside her mind in thick waves. Braxton unsnapped her pants, yanking them as far as her knees before sliding his fingers beneath the edge of her panties. He stopped. “Let me touch you.” “Now you’re asking for permission?” He circled his palm over her sex. “Yeah.” He met her eyes willing her to understand. Willing her see how much she meant to him. That he’d do anything for her. “Braxton.” He wanted to shout in victory as the heated plea whispered through his mind. He slanted his mouth across hers, another drugging kiss working like fire to burn him up. He
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cupped her chin and imprisoned his other hand at the nape of her neck, desperate to prove they could make it work between them. Her hands snaked up his chest, hauling him even closer. “Touch me.” Waves of hot psychic energy wrapped around him, heightening his arousal to the point he had to rub his aching shaft against her for some measure of relief. Quinn groaned into his mouth, and without breaking from his lips, reached between them to push her panties and pants all the way off, along with her boots. “More. Much, much more.” He drove two fingers into her wet sex. “Yes!” Quinn sank her nails into Braxton’s shoulders as he pumped his fingers deep inside her. In and out, they dragged at her sensitive inner walls until she rocked her hips to deepen the penetration. He roughly palmed her breast, the pad of his thumb scuffing the erect tip. The feverish throbbing between her legs intensified when Braxton swirled up to tease her clit. The precision of his thumb over the slick knot left her trembling. She fumbled with his pants. “I need you inside me.” His groan sounded scraped from his throat as he yanked his pants over his hips. She started to close her fingers around his shaft, but he shook his head. “Later.” And then he lifted her off the floor, the swollen head of his cock poised at her opening. Glittering amber eyes bored into hers. “I love you.” And then he sank inside her to the hilt. Never had anything felt so good. Both her body and her heart screamed out at the intensity that consumed her. In only a few hard strokes, she climaxed in a furious explosion of sensation, and opened her mind to share it with him in every way. Braxton slid to his knees, taking her with him. His mouth was everywhere, nibbling at the side of her neck, sucking at the flesh of her throat, then lower as she arched back to let him reach her breasts. His lips clamped down over her nipple, his mouth hot and wet and greedy.
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She thrust down, impaling herself on his shaft, rocking slowly back and forth until the heat in her core threatened to overtake her again. “Quinn!” She trapped his jaw in her hands and kissed him fiercely. “I love you.” She chanted the confession over and over in her mind as the twisting threads inside her snapped. Braxton turned and rolled until she was on her back. The cool cement barely penetrated compared to the scorching male looming over her, thrusting hard until he came with a guttural shout. His hair fell across his forehead, and his arms trembled before he slowly lowered to fuse their mouths together once more in a kiss that shook her to the core.
Quinn snapped the button on her pants, checking to make sure both daggers were in place. She felt Braxton’s gaze on her and lifted her head to find him smiling at her. “What?” Before he could answer, the transmitter beeped once in her ear as the line of communication between them and the field office opened. Had someone opened the channel two minutes ago there would have been some explaining in order. She frowned at the background noise that filtered through the line, some low enough she doubted Braxton picked up on half of it. “Rae?” Braxton said after a minute, his hand going to his ear as though to adjust the transmitter. Something smashed to the floor, and Quinn flinched as the sound echoed over the line. Braxton grabbed her hand and turned her towards the elevator. “What’s going on, Rae?” he tried again, but nothing more than the sound of a fist striking flesh echoed over the open channel. “Fuck.” He cursed the slow lift.
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A second later the line between their transmitters and the field office went dead. They exchanged looks, and Quinn pulled her phone from her pocket, punching in Drew’s cell number. With every ring, dread pooled in her stomach. “He’s not answering.”
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Chapter Fourteen “I can get there faster,” Quinn argued, easily keeping up with Braxton’s furious pace as they sprinted the last block to the field office. She’d said as much the second they realized something was wrong, and felt compelled to remind him again. They’d left Braxton’s car ten blocks from the construction site to track the demon on foot. Backtracking to get it would have taken more time than to run for the field office. “And I won’t let you go in alone. We stick together.” His answer hadn’t changed. Nor had his reminders that the Scion could be sitting in wait for her. Since their city wasn’t high on demon traffic most of the time, a lust demon popping up on the radar so close by felt almost too coincidental, especially given the lust demon’s preoccupation with Quinn during the encounter. They needed to play it smart and be prepared for anything instead of rushing headlong into the situation. It took no more than a look at his granite expression to know Braxton was just as worried about Rae, Cass and Drew as she was. Although her first instinct had been to go for Cass, they were closer to the field office. Jordan and Gage’s plane had touched down minutes ago and they were on their way over to check the safe house. Still, she couldn’t stop the cold cramping in her stomach at the thought of the Scion getting within a hundred feet of Cass. “If he wanted you both dead, he would have struck before now.” Braxton’s comment did little to ease the panic that wanted to claw through her chest. She almost wished that wasn’t the case, wished she didn’t know how much Shadow Demons thrived on playing with their victims first. Only this time around she was at the center of an old game the hostile felt compelled to bring full circle. “Stairs.” Braxton’s curt order preceded them entering the building.
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Quinn had half expected the internal alarms to be screeching by now since the sensors were programmed to pick up on a Shadow Demon’s bodily readings—or lack thereof. To Quinn, who could usually hear activity as far as two floors up or down, the eerie silence chilled her. Even halfway up the stairs, both of them armed and ready, she still hadn’t picked up on any auditory clues as to where Rae was. She took a small amount of comfort in not detecting any demons in the building. Not even a lingering trace any had been there at all. Braxton opened the door to the main floor of their field office, and together they slid into the hall. Anything? She shook her head, tipping her head to indicate checking Rae’s office first. More than likely Rae would have been there or at the communication console she never ventured far from when one of them was on assignment. A series of drawers closing separated from the usual background noise, and she cocked her head, trying to pin down the direction. “What?” She turned to the right to lead Braxton that way, only to stop as a soft moan penetrated her senses. Quinn pivoted in the opposite direction. “Rae?” Confident there was no trap set for them, Quinn rushed down the hall, hesitating a beat outside Rae’s office. The door was ajar, files from her desk scattered across the tile floor. Quinn edged around the door, following the faint sound of Rae’s shallow and unsteady breaths. The scent of blood rode on the air, a crimson trail of it snaking across the floor towards their feet. Rae lay on her side in the corner facing away from them. Quinn skidded to stop, dropping to her knees to examine the gash that ran along the crown of Rae’s head. Braxton crouched next to her. “I think the bleeding stopped.” Given the amount of blood that pooled on the floor around Rae’s head, matting her long red hair, the injury likely would have killed the average person. The subsiding blood
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flow indicated her ability to heal—like Gage and Jordan’s—had already kicked in and was working to close the wound. Braxton stared at the opposite wall. “Darcy’s on her way up.” “Good.” With Rae down and Drew and Cass… Quinn swallowed tightly. “We’ll find them.” The man was getting far too good at reading her. Quinn left Rae’s side long enough to dig through her boss’s drawers, using the bandana she found to dab at the blood on Rae’s face. “Rae?” It was doubtful she was close to consciousness, but that didn’t stop Quinn from trying to get a response. Whoever had done this would be tracked down and dealt with. That, like believing Drew and Cass would be okay, was the only option she was willing to consider. Rae’s lashes flickered, but she didn’t open her eyes. Like everything else in the past few weeks, it felt as though all she could do was wait and see. The inaction made her restless within seconds, and she brushed Rae’s hair back from her face, willing her to open her eyes. “Give her a few minutes.” Braxton’s fist was tight at his side, his gaze never straying from Rae’s face. A muted thump reached Quinn’s ears and she spun to face the door. “Someone else is here.” She took three more steps towards the door, straining to identify the sound coming from the other end of their floor. “Where’s Darcy?” Braxton was silent a moment, then, “Second floor stairwell.” She didn’t wait for his permission this time, but darted out the door, moving fast down the hall. “Quinn!” “It’s not a hostile,” she answered back. At this point that was about as much as she could be certain about. But someone was clearly trespassing, maybe even the same someone who had gone after Rae then foolishly stuck around thinking her dead. A shadow moved across the bottom of a closed door. Royce’s office.
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Adrenaline hummed through her bloodstream, kicking up as she gripped the door to the office and shoved it open. She jerked low and to the right in case the person was armed. Behind his desk, Royce froze in the process of shoving a stack of files into his briefcase. Blood stained his shirt. Quinn pursed her lips. “Going somewhere, doc?”
“I thought Quinn was with you?” Darcy paled seeing Rae unconscious, then steeled her expression as she crouched next to their boss. “She heard something and went to check it out.” As much as he’d wanted to tear after her, leaving Rae vulnerable to a second attack couldn’t be risked. Quinn knew what she was doing. Always had. Even with her nightmares he almost felt stupid for questioning her abilities. Every single one of them had close calls and worked under stressful situations and yet he’d doubted her. Just as he’d doubted how she would take hearing that they’d slept together the night she’d been infected. Despite his reservations he should have told her the truth, should have trusted his initial instinct. He’d been so damn focused on sticking to his own rules he’d almost missed out on something incredible. As exasperating as he found Quinn at times, he couldn’t help but admire her ability to know when to play it safe and when to push her luck. It was one of the things he loved about her, and as soon as he got his hands on her impulsive neck, he’d remind her of that. “And?” Darcy prompted, pulling his attention back to their present circumstances. “Quinn?” He crossed to the door waiting to get a response back. He frowned, reaching out with his mind to find her. He knew she was close, but couldn’t get anything beyond that. Was something blocking him? He filtered through the waves of psychic energy ripe in the air from nearby people unaware they projected their thoughts to the universe. The faint streams of energy teased across his consciousness.
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Something wasn’t right. He darted a look at Darcy. “Do you feel that?” The other agent closed her eyes. “It’s almost like…” She shook her head as if puzzled by what she was picking up on. Her eyes snapped open. “Shadow Demon,” Braxton said, his stomach turning to stone. He started towards the door. “Brax.” Rae’s weak voice stopped him. He pivoted around, reaching out to stop her as she struggled to sit up. “Easy.” Her bleary gaze swept over the room. “Where’s Quinn?” He exchanged wary glances with Darcy. “I was just going to find out.” She reached out, stopping him as he started to rise. “Wait. There’s a mole in our office.” “What?” “Royce. He’s the mole. The one leaking information. I caught him trying to access my encrypted files.” “Stay with her,” he said to Darcy. Braxton was halfway to the door to find Quinn when his phone vibrated. Knowing it could only be Gage or Jordan calling, he fished it out and pressed it to his ear. “Yeah?” “They took them.” Gage’s voice was laced with fury. “A mimic demon and two war demons. Maybe the Scion too. Picking up a weird vibe here.” “Can you track them?” “We’re working on it. I’ll call you back when I’ve got more to go on.” Braxton disconnected and stuffed the phone back in his pocket. He shifted his sword back to his right hand and moved down the hall in the direction Quinn had disappeared.
Quinn eyed the stacks of printouts on his desk. “Someone has been a busy little beaver.”
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Royce’s eyes flickered and he wrenched open his desk drawer. His fingers closed over the handle of a gun as Quinn came over the desk. She tackled him to the floor. He managed to clip her jaw as she rotated to push his face into the floor. She licked at her lip, blood trickling from the corner. “Son of a bitch,” she growled. She tightened her grip on his forearm to the point he cried out. “I’m only going to ask you this once. Did you hurt Rae?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Royce argued, trying to buck her off his back. His effort was little more than a waste of energy. Too much time spent behind a desk over the years and not enough keeping up with his defensive skills. She bent down to talk close to his ear. “Do you honestly think I can’t hear the trace of fear in your voice?” She heard him swallow, his heart racing faster than a professional wrestler on steroids. “Try again.” “He’s going to kill you.” The cold conviction in his voice sounded nothing like the polite man she knew. “Who?” “The same Scion that killed your parents.” Quinn bit down on the anger that pulsed under the surface. “And that concerns you how exactly?” “Do you think I slave away here day in and day out listening to you all whine about how fucked up your life is because this job fulfills me?” His laughter—bitter, but far from depraved—left Quinn with a sick feeling in her gut. “This job has only ever been about one thing.” “Well don’t keep me in suspense,” Quinn prompted. She could hear light footfalls down the hall. Braxton was certainly taking his time tonight. “Money.” “I wasn’t aware many Scions kept Swiss bank accounts.” “You think because they hunger for human emotions they couldn’t possibly be organized enough to attain anything they wanted?”
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“Well you’re proof enough they’ve got more on their minds than their next victim.” She replayed his voice in her head, breaking down the decibels, hearing something she’d missed before, or something he’d worked hard to hide. Corruption, she realized. It happened to a number of Destroyers, their genes absorbing too much of the demon’s essence. She couldn’t imagine how the network had missed that during his initial training, but the more she concentrated, the more obvious it became. “Bringing attention to themselves only brings you down on their ass where they run the risk of being permanently vanquished,” Royce added. “Guess you don’t want to play for our team anymore.” “I never played for your team. Do you think I really give a fuck if they kill anyone? It’s survival of the fittest and every man for himself.” “How poetic. What about Cass’s neighbor, Woody? What did he get out of this?” “He was nothing but a pervert and a pawn.” “Where is he hiding?” Quinn hadn’t forgotten the other man’s part in all this. “Woody was dead the second he’d served his purpose.” Royce bucked his hips again. “Get off me.” “Make me,” she snapped, really looking for a reason to hurt him. Pain exploded inside her mind. A sharp elbow to her side pitched Quinn into the desk as she pressed her hands to her temples. The searing blackness that flashed like pinpricks of lightning behind her eyes was enough to double her over. She heard Royce scramble to his feet, her eyesight blurring from the vicious ache that gripped her head in a vise. “Still haven’t learned have you?” Blinking to clear her vision, Quinn found Royce standing near the door. He began to ease it shut. Nausea curdled her stomach, the pain in her head so intense her arms shook as she fought through the mental assault to get up. “It’ll all be over soon.”
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The words didn’t come from Royce. The Scion? Even with the hammering pain in her head she knew it wasn’t in the room with them, yet she could feel the master demon’s presence like a hideous shadow falling across her mind. The door burst open and she gripped the edge of the desk, dragging herself to her feet as bile rose in the back of her throat. Braxton filled the doorway, his expression murderous. The second his gaze landed on her, his brows drew together in concentration. “It’s okay.” His voice drifted through her mind and the pain in her head started to ease. Royce took advantage of Braxton’s distraction and attacked. Braxton swiveled on his heel, using Royce’s own momentum to propel him out the door. The good doctor smashed into the hallway wall and collapsed on the floor. The last of the pain in her head disintegrated on impact, but not before she clearly heard the Scion. “See you soon.” Royce did little more than lift his head off the floor as she joined Braxton in hovering over the network’s most recent mole. Braxton didn’t object when she took his sword from him and held the tip under Royce’s neck. She pressed just hard enough to draw blood and make it perfectly clear to the doc she wasn’t fucking around. “Where’s my sister?” A cruel slash of teeth, then, “What’s in it for me?” Quinn leaned to the side and stared down the hall as Rae—leaning occasionally into the wall for support—made her way towards them. “You can tell me or I can save you for her.” A glimpse of panic flashed across Royce’s face. “She won’t kill me. Neither of you can. The network has protocol in place for this.” “Protocol?” Quinn exchanged glances with Braxton. “I think protocol went out the window when you tried to kill Rae,” Braxton said. “Answer Quinn. Where are Cass and Drew?” “Probably dead by now.”
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A flick of her wrist and rivulets of blood ran down Royce’s neck. “Where. Are. They.” He grinned as though he enjoyed the situation, but the look quickly faded as Braxton knelt down next to him. “You think you’re the only one good with head games?” Royce’s smile slipped a little. “By the time you find the information you’re looking for in my head, they’ll be dead.” “Or you will be,” Quinn reminded him. “I’m not afraid to die.” A second later he flinched, his gaze darting nervously to Braxton. “Wanna bet?”
“I have to say that I prefer being on the offensive this time rather than the next one on the sacrifice menu.” Jordan surveyed the private estate at the edge of town, cringing as she turned and met Quinn’s gaze. “Sorry.” “It’s okay.” Braxton shook his head, frustrated. “The Scion is blocking me. I can’t get a vibe for either Cass or Drew.” “It knows we’re out here.” He slid his hand over Quinn’s. “Knows we’re coming for it,” Braxton corrected. He glanced at his tracker again. “You sure that thing is fully operational?” Gage asked. Braxton studied the fluctuations on the hand-held device. “I’m showing eight hostiles and the Scion.” “Feels about right,” Jordan agreed. “I need to get closer.” He held fast to Quinn. “No being reckless,” he pleaded, forcing himself to let go before he hauled her completely into his arms. There had been no time to talk since their
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encounter at the construction site—hell no time to talk since their brief conversation in the locker room earlier that day. There were a hundred things he wanted to say to her and no time to get into anything now. A ghost of a smile caught her lips. “I didn’t hold on this long to be taken down now.” “Jordan and I can cover the eastern side of the premises. You two the west?” Gage adjusted his transmitter, and they all followed suit to leave the channel between the four of them open for as long as it took to find Cass and Drew. “Go time.” Quinn disappeared into the shadows to the right, careful not to get too far ahead that Braxton had trouble keeping up. The closer they drew to the estate the harder it became to mentally keep tabs on Gage and Jordan, the Scion’s telepathic abilities encroaching on Braxton’s. As they reached a monstrous five car garage, Quinn came to a stop. “I smell blood.” “I doubt the owners handed over the keys willingly.” “Zero activity on this side.” Gage’s voice rasped through the transmitter. “Waiting to jump out of the closet?” Quinn mused grimly. “Anything on Cass or Drew?” The harder Braxton tried to get a vibe for either of them, the more his efforts were rebuffed. “No. You?” “Not yet.” She tensed, her knuckles whitening on the daggers she carried. Her sword was still strapped to her back, but he doubted it would stay there for long. Not with eight hostiles— She held up two fingers and jerked her head to the left a few seconds before the snapping waves of discordant energy streaked through his mind. Mimic demons. Wonderful. Could be worse, could be— “We’ve got war demons over here,” Gage snapped over the line. Despite the reason they were there, the thrill of the fight burned brightly in Quinn’s eyes before she whipped around the corner, her dagger slashing through the air. One mimic demon hit the ground instantly, her dagger catching it across the back of the leg as it tried to flee.
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The second reeled away, then launched forward towards Braxton. Its steps faltered as it quickly realized it couldn’t pull any images from Braxton’s mind to use to throw him off balance. So it took the predictable path. Its features contorted and morphed effortlessly into a likeness of Quinn. The hostile ruined its own effect the moment it smiled. The devious grin curling the creature’s lips disrupted whatever power the likeness might have carried. Braxton snapped his sword down in a hard arc, the tip of his blade whistling precariously close to the demon’s throat. Snarling, the hostile darted to avoid the next blow, still not fast enough to escape the shallow slice along its forearm. Panic filled the eyes of Quinn’s double. Mimic demons tended to be the cockiest of the bunch, and when it scrambled back a step, Braxton’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. It turned and bolted towards Quinn who struggled to vanquish the other mimic demon sprawled at her feet. “Real original,” she quipped, spotting Braxton’s hostile. She hacked with one dagger then the other to decapitate her prey. There wasn’t any time to whisper the chant that would permanently cleanse their realm of that Shadow Demon. Quinn’s double moved low to strike out at Quinn’s knees. With Quinn’s speed—something the demon couldn’t duplicate—she avoided the worst of the brunt force and only cringed on impact. She snagged the mimic demon by the same long black hair she sported, and hauled it close. “Two people with my face is already plenty,” she growled, shoving the hostile forward as Braxton’s sword made the killing blow. Blue flames erupted over both bodies. A flicker of hatred, one fresh from a feeding frenzy, stormed through his mind. The shuffle of movement came next, and Quinn shouted out in warning. Braxton spun around. He jerked to the side to avoid the war demon coming at him from behind. Its sacrificial sword already glistened with blood. From the corner of his eye he saw another shadow separate from the blackness at the edge of the property. A stealth demon.
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Quinn whirled around to engage it, leaving him to face the war demon that reminded him of Arnold Schwarzenegger from his Conan days. He advanced on the demon, awareness coming too late in the thick tangle of psychic energy that pulsed through his mind like a writhing serpent. Pain screamed up his side as Braxton left the ground. He kept his grip on his sword, his other hand pressing to the wound in his side as he landed hard on his back. Blood leaked through his fingers. A second war demon had joined the fray. “Could use a hand over here,” Braxton said, then rolled to avoid both demons that wanted to pin him down. There was no way to know how much damage the second hostile’s dagger had caused. He gritted his teeth against the pain and regained his footing. “Soon as we can reach you.” The sounds of a distant fight echoed over the line as Gage answered back. Braxton brought his sword up, one of the war demons barreling towards him, its sword hacking at the air. He brought his own sword up to deflect the blow, creeping into the demon’s mind. War demons prided themselves on their ability to kill, their gruesome thirst for violence making it all the more satisfying when they were forced to envision their own demise. The creature’s red-rimmed eyes narrowed as Braxton let the scenario unfold in the hostile’s mind. High on the emotions from its most recent victim, rage contorted the demon’s face, and it put more momentum behind each sword strike. A fist came from the left, nailing Braxton’s injured side. The explosion of pain took Braxton to his knees. Another kick shoved him to his stomach. “Braxton!” Quinn’s voice thundered over the furious beat of his heart. He managed to escape the next blow, right up until one of the war demons stepped on the flat of his sword before Braxton could wrench it out of the way. The point of a sacrificial sword drew a line in the air in front of him.
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“Drop your sword, or he dies now,” the war demon ordered, a hiss riding the current of its voice as it fixed its homicidal gaze on Quinn. Braxton shook his head, the motion ceasing as the blade bit into his neck. He grunted, more in frustration than because it hurt. The burning along his side made any other minor abrasion insignificant. “Inside.” The war demon jerked his head for Quinn to move towards the house. Her hand flexed around her dagger and defeat flickered across Quinn’s face. “Go!” Braxton didn’t even think twice about issuing the mental command. They both knew she could outrun any of them. She needed to find Drew and Cass. Lowering her weapons, she shook her head sadly at him and moved to precede the stealth demon that propelled her forward. Hauled to his feet, Braxton was dragged into the house after her. He fought the hold they had on him to reach Quinn, but was yanked back as they approached an inside door that revealed only darkness. Quinn’s feet locked to the floor, her eyes mirroring her fear as they met Braxton’s— right before a demon shoved him down the stairs.
Quinn instinctively shot a hand out as the darkness swallowed Braxton, only to be pushed from behind herself. She managed to turn and snare one of the war demons behind her, taking him with her as she toppled sideways. Her ankle was wrenched beneath her, and she cried out as she tumbled down the stairs. At the bottom, she drew in a sharp breath, her body battered and aching from the fall. Though her eyes adjusted easily to the dark, something in the back of her mind screamed out when the door above was slammed shut. The cold floor beneath her reached out from the past, pressing in on her. Her heart revved to full throttle, her lungs contracting to suck in the oxygen that seemed to evaporate on the air around her. “Braxton?” Her voice wobbled and she snapped her lips together, fighting to keep the old anxiety from surfacing. This wasn’t a dream she didn’t understand. This was real.
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The war demon shuffled around in the dark. Quinn followed its hulking shape, waiting for it to come for her. “You’ll watch them die too.” The hissing voice slithered through her head. She focused on the pain in her ankle to drown out the malevolent presence she couldn’t shake. Quinn climbed to her feet, wincing as her foot gingerly hit the floor. She scanned the floor for Braxton. Damn, she hated the dark. She swallowed the fear that coated her throat and spun around, finding the shadow draped across the floor. She darted forward, only to hear the war demon swivel and stalk towards them before she could reach Braxton. She withdrew the sword still on her back, and spun to meet the hostile. It grinned at her, seemingly pleased by the expression on her face. She kept her sword tucked close to her side, out of sight. “She’s mine.” The chilling voice rang through the dark. One that nightmares were made of. The war demon snarled, but obeyed. Quinn held her ground, embracing the anger that flooded her system. If she had to kill every last one of them, she would. Grinding her teeth at the damage to her ankle, she took a step forward, then another. Whatever it took, this ended here. No more being afraid. Not when the people she loved needed her. Above her the lights flashed on, her eyes taking the change in stride. If the Scion thought visual stimuli would throw her off balance at this point then the master demon needed to up its game. A whimper separated from the other background noises. Cass was upstairs. Alive. Quinn’s relief worked to make her feet stay planted as the same masculine form she recognized from outside Jake’s strode around the corner. She processed that there might be another way out in that direction, then fixed her attention solely on the Scion. The master demon’s gaze flicked to where Braxton lay prone on the floor behind her.
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Quinn inched backward to keep herself firmly between him and the Scion. An amused smile tightened the demon’s lips, its eyes unblinking. “Your father couldn’t save your mother. What makes you think you can save him?” She tightened her fingers over the hilt of her sword. “Did you really lure me here to talk?” The Scion laughed, the sound eerily human. “To finish old business, but then I think you know that.” “You slaughtered my parents. Stalked my sister—” “Nearly killed you,” the demon provided seamlessly. Her lips tilted in a rueful smile. “I was having a bad day.” “So you’re ready this time, ready to vanquish me?” the Scion mocked. “Well, negotiation has never been my thing.” “No?” A memory slammed into her brain, her bartering with her dad to let her borrow his car a few days before he was killed. “Or how about this?” the Scion taunted. Another hit her hard—a memory of her and Braxton playing Rock, Paper, Scissors. Fury swirled in her gut. The Scion took another menacing step forward. “This one may be my favorite.” The scene of her coaxing Braxton to stay with her the night she’d been infected replayed in her mind. If she thought closing her eyes would sever the connection with the master demon she might have considered it. “Your father watched your mother die,” the Scion continued, “And tonight you’ll watch him die.” As if on cue, the war demon advanced on Braxton. She hurtled herself to the right, blocking the hostile from taking another step. “How good are you at obstacle courses?” The same pain she’d experienced in Royce’s office compressed her mind. A whimper rattled in her throat, but she didn’t retreat from her stance over Braxton. As
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much as the agony in her head made her want to curl into a little ball, she brought the sword up, driving it into the war demon’s gut. A meaty fist came at her face. She caught its wrist and wrenched hard, throwing the demon to the side only to scream as the pain in her head intensified. A heartbeat later it was gone. Her breaths coming fast and shallow, Quinn straightened and met the Scion’s quizzical gaze. She looked over her shoulder to see Braxton struggling to get up. “Stay out of her head,” he growled. The Scion’s eyes glowed. It advanced on her. “You wanted to run the night your parents died, and when this is over, you’ll wish you had tried to run tonight.” “It would work better for me if you’d stop wasting my time with conversation.” She went at the Scion hard and fast, her sword clasped tightly in her fist. Static crackled over the transmitter in her ear. “Where the hell are you two?” Jordan demanded. “Cellar,” Braxton fired back, making it to his knees. Quinn focused on the master demon that had ripped her family apart, circling around to its left. Its dark brows drew tight and she felt the telling probe at the edges of her consciousness. The strain on Braxton’s face told her that he was helping to keep the Scion out of her head but the exertion was already wearing on him. She darted around, landing a shallow blow on the Scion’s side. Unfortunately, it escaped her next strike, and the next, and the next, finally knocking her backwards hard enough she stumbled with too much weight on her bad ankle. Quinn clenched her jaw, vaguely following Braxton as his gaze swept their surroundings. Looking for a weapon, she realized. The Scion landed another blow that knocked the breath from her, but she stayed low. Her speed helped her deliver a hard kick that swept the master demon’s legs out from under it.
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It rolled and was back on its feet as she saw Braxton edge closer, one of the daggers she’d lost in her fall gripped tightly in his hand. “Tag-teaming me?” The amusement lacing the Scion’s words rang false. Its fist clipped Quinn’s jaw, another solid punch nailing her in the stomach. Not until the demon followed both strikes up with a blow to her injured ankle did she go down. Fiery threads of pain ripped at the edges of her mind as Braxton moved in on the Scion. He couldn’t both fight and keep the Scion out of her head. And the Scion knew it. It increased its tactical maneuvers, wanting to tire Braxton out. Quinn brought her sword up at the same time Braxton’s offensive drilled the Scion back towards her. Surprise registered on the hostile’s face a heartbeat before they both impaled it with their weapons at the same time. It shrieked in rage and slammed Braxton across the floor. Its preoccupation with Braxton gave her the only edge she needed. Enough time to get behind it and swing her sword in a horizontal arc that eliminated the demon once and for all. Her mind was numb as she whispered the same chant she had a thousand times. Never before had she felt the words echo so deeply in her heart. And never before had the burst of flames clawed so high or burned so brightly. Afraid to believe it might really be over, Quinn couldn’t bring herself to let go of her sword. She limped to where Braxton rested on his side, pain making his handsome face rigid. Her insides trembled at the sight of the blood drenching his side. “Bad?” He smiled weakly. “I’ll live.” “We’ve got Drew and Cass.” Quinn gave a small sound of relief, her forehead touching Braxton’s after Jordan’s voice echoed over the line. He wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her against him. She brushed her lips over his. “Let’s get out of here.”
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They found the others outside. Cass broke from Jordan’s side the second she spotted them. Quinn slung her arm around Cass, keeping the other one snug around Braxton. She never wanted to think about losing either one of them again. “You okay?” She studied her twin carefully. “That depends,” Cass said. “Just because I carry the gene doesn’t mean I have to get the tattoo, does it?” She followed Cass’s gaze to the wound in need of stitching on her arm. Disbelief and a strange feeling of relief eased the tension in her chest. “It only hurts for a second,” Jordan said grinning. Drew started to laugh then grunted. His face was dark from numerous bruises that no doubt matched the rest of his body. While Cass had remained fairly unscathed, the demons obviously hadn’t held back with him. It was a wonder they hadn’t killed him outright and Quinn assumed it was only the Scion’s determination to use them to make her suffer that had kept either of them alive. Drew leaned heavily into Gage. “I am done with the whole baby-sitting gig. You guys have been having all the fun without me.” “Loads,” Braxton quipped, and tightened his arm around Quinn’s waist.
“You ready to blow this joint?” Quinn paused in the doorway of the private clinic. Her injuries had been superficial enough she hadn’t needed admitting, but they insisted on Braxton spending the night once he was stitched up. “I was ready hours ago.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned from the window. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be here or not.” “Cass wanted to be alone for a bit. Something about no one watching her every move,” Quinn trailed off smiling. “How’s she adjusting?” Finding the topic of her sister an easy transition subject, she limped farther into the room. “As far as the test results show, she only absorbed a minor amount of dakorum.
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She has, however, already talked to Rae about working out of our office, just not as a field agent.” “You’ll be closer to her.” Quinn ducked her head as she said, “I told her she could have my apartment.” Braxton frowned. “Have it?” His long strides devoured the distance between them. “You can’t leave town. I screwed up and I’m sorry, but you can’t move away—” She rocked up and slanted her mouth across his, cutting him off. His arm looped around her waist hauling her tight against him. She clung to him as he deepened the kiss that cemented her decision. For so long she’d been on her own with even Cass oblivious to the life she led. Having someone to really share her life with who truly understood who she was unleashed a rush of emotion that stole her breath. For weeks she’d been afraid to share what was happening to her, scared that it would make everything so real. And yet as she embraced the truth about her parents’ deaths, relying on her sister, her friends and most especially Braxton, it seemed so stupid that she had hidden it from them for so long. If she couldn’t trust the people she cared about the most in this world to be there when she needed them, she’d eventually wind up as empty inside as the very demons she fought. Quinn drew back slowly. “I’m not leaving town. I was going to say that there happens to be this big old house at the edge of town I’ve got my eye on.” “Really?” Braxton’s devastating grin made her heart pound faster. “Yeah.” “Let’s get out of here then.” He snared her hand and dragged her into the hall. He strode towards the elevator as though he feared she might change her mind before he got her back to his place. “We do have to make one stop on the way home,” he added. Home. Quinn’s smile widened at the sound of that. “Where?” Braxton twirled his finger around a thick strand of her hair. “A hair salon.” Laughing, she tried to no avail to slow him down. “Don’t tell me the Boy Scout misses the blue highlights?”
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He tousled his hair, his expression playfully thoughtful. “Maybe I should think about getting a little more wild myself.” “Or not.” The image of Braxton with blue streaks in his hair made her laugh. “Or not,” he agreed, grinning. The elevator doors opened, and her pulse only skipped once as she crossed the threshold. The doors scrolled closed, and Braxton laced their fingers together, watching her anxiously. “I’m okay.” And for the first time in weeks she really meant it. “And here I was half expecting you to throw yourself into my arms.” Careful of his injured side, she leaned against him. “I don’t need nightmares or panic attacks to want to be right here.” “Just checking.” He lowered his mouth to hers. “There’s just one thing I want to hear you say,” she murmured. He mulled it over. “I love you?” She shook her head, smiling against his lips. “I surrender.” Braxton trapped her chin in his palm, sinking hard and fast into another kiss when she started to pull away. “Now who’s being cocky?” A smile that she felt all the way to the deepest part of her heart burst across her face. “Who needs to be cocky when it’s a sure thing?”
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About the Author To
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Look for these titles Now Available Unbreakable Spellbound: Say You’re Mine Spellbound: Don’t Let Go Talons: Caged Desire Call Me Cupid
Coming Soon Waitin’ on a Hero
Five years ago the man she loved died in her arms…Or did he?
Unbreakable © 2007 Sydney Somers Jordan McAdam leads an unusual double life. Police officer by day, vigilante by night. But Jordan isn’t interested in the average criminal. She stalks Shadow Demons, creatures who prey on the innocent, creatures whom she suspects are responsible for a string of bizarre sacrificial murders. Creatures who killed her partner and lover. Gage Campbell has spent the last few years on an elite team of Shadow Destroyers, hunting down the demons who changed his life—and his DNA. Then an assignment leads him straight back to the woman he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about for five long years. The woman he had no choice but to leave behind. Is the man before her a mimic demon bent on tormenting her, or is it Gage returned from the dead? All Jordan knows is that the raging desire between them is real. Standing between them are years of secrets and hurt, and a love that just might have the power to bring them together. If the murder case they’re working on doesn’t separate them…permanently. The Shadow Destroyer Series, Book 1 Enjoy the following excerpt for Unbreakable: “You’re awake.” Jordan didn’t have to try very hard to ignore the fact that he looked good leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, his feet bare. She was too busy burning him to a cinder with her gaze. “Spare me the small talk.” She jerked on the restraints. “What’s with these? And if you try to be a smart ass and say something kinky, I will hurt you. Very badly,” she promised. “When you get up you mean?” The corner of his mouth twitched. He strolled into the room. “But that kinky talk does give me a few ideas now that you brought it up.” “Do not screw with me, Gage. I’m not the submissive type. Take. These. Off. Now.”
“No.” Frustration chewed away at her insides. “Why not?” She was about three seconds away from screaming the place down, even if the only thing it got her was duct tape across the mouth. She felt far too helpless like this, the same way she had felt when the war demon had cornered her in her apartment the week after Gage died. “I think that lust demon infected you.” Jordan snorted. “Not possible.” “You have a scratch on your side.” “So. I got a scratch from fighting it. Doesn’t mean he did it to me.” She continued to squirm, seeking any leverage that might help her get free. “I’m not taking the chance.” “You don’t have to. I’m fine.” She felt fine. She’d know if something was wrong. She’d been injured in dozens of fights with lust demons before and hadn’t been “infected” like he seemed to think she was. “We’ll see.” “Oh, no. You are not leaving me like this.” Gage cocked his head. “I don’t think you’re in a position to do much about it.” “You son of a bitch,” Jordan growled. “Tsk. Tsk. I see you still have no problem shooting your mouth off.” “Come a little closer and I’ll show you what else I have no problem doing.” Instead of moving closer, Gage took a step back. The small measure of satisfaction his retreat gave her was short-lived. Mostly because she was still latched to her bed. She dragged in what she hoped was a calming breath, relaxing the muscles that had locked up the moment she discovered she couldn’t move. “There is no reason to keep me like this. I’d know if I felt differently.” “There’s no way to tell for another few hours.” “Are you crazy? In case you’ve forgotten, people keep dying because some powertripping demon wants to cross over. For all we know a gateway could be opening right now.”
Gage shook his head. “Braxton is monitoring all temporal activity in this area. He’ll let us know the second something looks unusual.” “Let me put it this way. When I say I couldn’t have been infected, I mean I really couldn’t have been. My talisman protects me from all things demon magik related.” “We’re not talking magik, we’re talking about it getting into your blood.” “In one sense or another all demon powers originate in magik. Trust me, I’m immune.” He didn’t look convinced. “Call Brady. He’ll tell you. He was the one who gave it to me.” His brows drew together. “And you’re wearing it now? The same one you showed me the night we ran into each other.” “Old friends run into each other, Gage. Like people who went to high school together and haven’t seen each other since graduation. Not two people fighting the same abnormally strong creatures, one of whom has played dead for the last five years.” “Do you think you could stop reminding me about that every thirty seconds?” “Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you had dropped a postcard in the mail. Christmas time would have been good.” “Damn it, Jordan. I couldn’t.” “Is this about that whole keep me safe thing again? I think we’ve talked that to death, don’t you?” They hadn’t really, but she didn’t want to go there right now. She wanted to get up. Maybe find a demon to slay. Preferably a whole legion of them. Anything so she wouldn’t have to feel vulnerable lying here, especially when he was looking at her like he actually cared what she thought. She didn’t want him to care. Not if he wasn’t sticking around. It would be much easier to let him go when the time came. Gage leaned over her. His gaze dipped to the plunging vee neckline. “What are you doing?” The question didn’t snap like she intended it to. He followed the leather strap down to the top of her breasts and withdrew the talisman. His fingers brushed her skin, and her stomach tightened. “So you think this thing somehow protects you?”
From this angle she couldn’t tell if he was looking at the talisman or her cleavage. “According to Brady, yeah. I haven’t had any problems before.” Gage replaced it, his fingers once more sliding over her skin, whisper soft. Definitely on purpose this time. Jordan searched his face, but he turned away. He made it as far as the door before she opened her mouth to demand he release her. Gage shut off the light and came back to the bed. He stretched out on the mattress next to her, dragging a blanket up to cover both of them. “You expect me to sleep like this?” “It’s after three in the morning, Jordan. Just…go to sleep.” “Call Brady.” Gage rolled over, his face hovering above hers. He’d forgotten to fully close the blinds and slivers of light from the streetlamp outside allowed her to clearly see his face. “I’m not calling anyone, so go to sleep.” “Exactly what are you worried about? That you’re wrong, or that you wouldn’t be able to resist me if I was infected?” “One, I hope I am wrong. I’d rather you not have to go through that. And two, who says I’d want to resist you?” His voice deepened on the last sentence. “Gage…” He sighed. “You really need to stop talking, Jordan.” “Why?” “You’re making it hard for me to roll over and go to sleep.” “So you are trying to resist me,” she teased, her earlier frustration fading to the back of her mind as her body warmed from head to toe under his simmering blue eyes. “Not very well.” He covered her mouth with his, proving just how much he couldn’t fight the pull that crackled in the air between them. Arguing had always led to the most incredible sex between them and it seemed that the time apart hadn’t changed that. His lips skimmed back and forth across hers. Each hot pass made her tug at her restraints, wanting to wrap her arms around him and pull him closer. The first damp sweep of his tongue filled her senses.
She moaned, already knowing the kiss would never be enough to satisfy the craving heating her limbs until she could have dissolved into the mattress. No matter how much she wanted to strangle the man at any given moment, in bed he never failed to make her forget about everything but how good he made her feel. How good she wanted to feel right now. Gage drew back. His ragged breath teased her neck. “If you’re about to tell me to go to sleep—” “If you threaten me one more time today, Jordan, I’m going to leave you like this for at least a week.” He captured her mouth again. This time the kiss wasn’t slow or teasing. He consumed her.
Welcome to Talisman Bay, where all hell breaks loose on a daily basis, especially when you fall in love.
Lover’s Talisman © 2008 Ashleigh Raine Book one in the Talisman Bay series. For twelve years Stephan Rashleigh has lived in the shadows, patrolling the city streets as leader of the Talisman Bay Shadow Walkers. The danger of his world leaves no room for a woman in his life. Until now. It should have been easy—rescue Mariah, then let her go. Except once she’s in his arms, he can’t walk away. Vibrant, breathing life into him, she makes him feel again. Mariah DeSilva isn’t interested in falling in love, even with the gorgeous hero who rescued her from a brutal attack. When her best friend is kidnapped, she turns to the only man she can trust to help. The more time she spends with Stephan, the less she can hide her growing feelings for him. There’s so much more between them than an explosive romp between the sheets, against the wall and everywhere in between. As they search for Mariah’s missing friend, a sinister evil is revealed, someone who’s been watching, waiting for Stephan to reveal his greatest vulnerability—falling in love. This enemy will stop at nothing to wipe out the Shadow Walkers and claim Mariah for his own. This book has been previously published but was revised and re-edited for Samhain Publishing. Warning, this title contains the following: Bondage and knife play (don’t worry, no one gets hurt). A fantasy ménage scene—two brothers loving one woman, yay! Magical orgasms. Pleasure sparks. Lots of demon killing, lots of cursing while killing demons, and even more sex (without the demons). Enjoy the following excerpt for Lover’s Talisman: “We gotta go back to the import store. It’s safer there.”
Mariah pulled from his grasp. “I need to go inside and check the machine, to make sure no one has heard from her or that she hasn’t been trying to get a hold of me.” Stephan studied the dark house. No lights on—anybody or anything could be hiding inside. “No. First, I gotta clear the perimeter. After it’s clear, then and only then will I determine if it’s safe for us to enter. Stay close to me.” Stephan extended a hand to her. Mariah looked at it for a moment before placing her hand in his. The heat from her touch infused his entire body with warmth, shifting all thought to sex. This was not a good time to get distracted. “You sound like a commando. Clear the perimeter. Safe to enter. Do you really think we need to do this?” Mariah’s voice lowered to a whisper as they approached the back of the house. “I’m not taking any chances. Anything could be waiting in the shadows.” He wished he could say more, make her understand the extent of danger she might be in. But he couldn’t. Not without compromising his job and the secrecy of the whole Shadow Organization. He’d already started down that path by having Fiero heal her yesterday and by bringing her to the compound in the first place. What was it about this woman that made him break his own rules? “Twyla’s missing. This doesn’t have anything to do with me, does it?” Mariah paused and Stephan tried to think up an answer that wouldn’t scare her. “Oh God. Is this because of my attack last night? Was Twyla taken because of me?” Stephan gazed into her big, bright eyes, glistening with unshed tears. He didn’t know what to tell her. It probably did have something to do with last night, but she already felt guilty and he didn’t want to add to that. The last thing he needed was a hysterical, terrified woman on his hands. Convinced he was doing the right thing and that it had nothing to do with how damn bad he wanted to feel her soft body pressed against him, he wrapped his arms around her. She sighed, settling into his embrace, fitting against him, her head tucked beneath his chin, like they’d come together this way a hundred times before. His hands had a mind of their own, stroking the silky length of her hair, kneading circles into her back. The subtle
scent of shampoo and clean, beautiful woman filled every breath and he inhaled deeply, taking that small part of her inside. Each moment spent with her convinced him that maybe she really could be his. He remembered her ice-cold stare from the night before. It had to be a man. Someone must have fucked her up and scared her off men. He’d seen that kind of abuse happen all too often while growing up. Stephan vowed to kill whoever had done that to her. “I’m not sure what’s goin’ on, but I won’t take any chances with you. We’ll find Twyla, I promise.” He didn’t mention that by the time they found her, it might be too late. Mariah had never felt this secure. In the middle of her darkened yard, while searching for her best friend, she was completely safe. She wrapped her arms around his waist beneath his leather jacket, luxuriating in his strength. Stephan’s breath wafted against the top of her head, and his heart beat steadily beneath her cheek. The soft cotton of his tight black T-shirt felt comforting against her face. She closed her eyes and let herself enjoy how he made everything feel so right. She started to pull away, but not before lightly brushing her lips against his chest. His back muscles tightened beneath her hands and she knew he’d felt her kiss. Her gaze returned to his eyes, her breath catching at the desire simmering there. He pulled her back toward him, quickly, fiercely, and ground his mouth to hers. Mariah’s body lit up, an explosion of sensory awareness that set her ablaze. She wanted to draw him closer, she wanted to jerk away. She wanted to strip naked and fuck him right there against the back wall of the house. Instead, she returned his kiss, opening her mouth and inviting him inside. It had been so long since she’d been kissed, but she didn’t ever remember feeling one down to her toes. He surrounded her, consumed her and she wanted to give him more to take. Lifting her hands to his hair, she ran her fingers through the short strands in the back. She heard a moan, but wasn’t sure if it was his or her own. Strong hands anchored on her ass, fingers hot and demanding, searing through her jeans. She ground against him encouragingly and he responded with a deep growl,
picking her up, trapping her between the house and his rock-hard body. Her legs circled his waist, their sexes crushed together, his erect cock demanding entrance. If their damn clothes would only disappear, she’d insist he come inside and stay for awhile. One of his hands remained on her ass, keeping their clothed bodies locked in tortured limbo, while the other wandered over her hair, her cheek, caressing the length of her neck. Abandoning her mouth, he kissed and nipped along her jaw. She took in deep gulps of air between the moans and whimpers. When his teeth scraped roughly down her neck—which was one giant erogenous zone—she forgot to breathe, swallowing her shout and bucking against him, on the verge of climax. Her body had never reacted like this before, never crested so high so fast. Now Mariah wanted penetration. Wanted Stephan to slam into her, fill her, mate with her until the only thing between their bodies was sweat and come. But instead of getting closer, Stephan minutely pulled back, allowing room for a hand to travel under her shirt, fingertips brushing the underside of one breast. He explored her with tender caresses so at odds with the frantic tension exploding between them, palming her breast, rubbing his thumb over her nipple until it blossomed, begging to be sucked deep into the warm recesses of his mouth. Thrumming liquid heat swelled low in her belly, threatening to boil over. She, too, could play the slow seduction game. Letting her fingers do the studying, she trailed down his chest and abdomen. He was rugged perfection beneath her hands, muscles rippling wherever she touched. When she landed on the bulge of his cock, that rippled too, the rigid steel pulsing against her palm. Curling her fingers, she grasped him through his jeans. Her neck muffled his guttural groan as his hips jerked. His jeans were button fly. The top button came undone with little effort and she impatiently reached inside, desperate to feel his cock against her bare flesh. He was molded fire—large, powerful, hot. She wrapped her hand around him, loving the wicked thrill that came from being in control of pleasuring such a strong man. He moaned again, this time louder. She continued her ministrations, tactilely exploring what she wanted to see and taste.
Stephan’s hand slid from her breast to her jeans and made quick work of her button and zipper. Mariah spoke a prayer of thanks that she had worn sexy pink lace panties and not her comfortable, man-hater, white cotton granny underwear. Long, lean fingers grazed the damp lace stretched over her cunt and she almost cried. It had been so long since anyone’s hands but her own had traveled there. One finger slipped under the silky barrier and rubbed back and forth, spreading her juices from her pussy to her clit. She whimpered and rocked against him, moments from orgasm. God, she wanted him inside her now, needed the slick feel of flesh invading flesh, turning her desperate ache into exquisite release. If she could just get the last few buttons of his jeans undone… A shaft of moonlight broke through the clouds overhead, illuminating someone rapidly approaching them. She pushed against Stephan, scrambling to get away, her desire fast becoming fear. A figure covered in dark hair, long fangs dripping, with red glowing eyes, was almost upon them. “Stephan, run! We have to run!”
A haunted-to-the-rafters inn. A haunted heart. A sexy Irish ghostbuster must face both before he can love one woman.
Key West Magic © 2007 Ciar Cullen Key West. An island of green on turquoise waters, populated with poets, artists, drifters, Jimmy Buffet fans—and the most stubborn ghosts imaginable. When psychic and all-around sexy Irishman Trent Light takes on the challenge to ghost-bust Calloway House, he encounters something more than your normal, hauntedto-the-rafters inn. He butts heads with the spirit of Emily, a flapper with a sordid past and short fuse. Emily’s guardian angel won’t let her cross to the other side until the infamous “Hemingway Mystery” is solved—a mystery Emily caused during her own lifetime. Trent locks horns with another stubborn woman, inn owner and Key West newcomer Julie Calloway. Frustrated that the sexy Julie isn’t satisfied with being just his lover, yet unable to leave nor to commit to her, Trent is at his wits’ end. And then there’s that sentient Parrot that won’t shut up. It’s a tough assignment, but Trent and Julie steam up the tropics as they try to solve the mysteries of Key West, of love, and of redemption Enjoy the following excerpt for Key West Magic: Julie groaned in frustration. She had run blocks to make Trent’s show before he finished, and now, yards away, she couldn’t stand to watch him swallow the torches. She turned instead to watch the sunset, her back towards him, and listened to the crowd. A huge round of applause filled the air—what had he done? A fireball, she heard someone say. His audience began to break up, and Julie realized nervously that she’d soon be visible to him. She concentrated on the cruise ship, focusing on Mickey Mouse’s outline stenciled in enormous proportions on the bow. Or was that the stern? She found it difficult to focus on anything in the intense sunlight. Would he notice her? She turned to face him as casually as she could.
He stood alone in the middle of the roped-off square like a statue of an ancient god. The rays of sun turned his pale hair to shining gold. He’s special, and he knows it. Julie’s heart lurched when he glanced up and held her gaze, as if to dare her to look away again. He never broke eye contact with her as he bent and gathered his things. Trent had stripped off his shirt for the finale. His smooth, tanned arms and chest glistened with a faint sheen of perspiration. He told Robert I checked him out. And I’m doing it again, and I don’t know how to stop. Get a grip, Julie. You’re going to share a house for a while. Act sophisticated, free. This is Key West. Julie walked a few feet to a stand dispensing fruity alcoholic drinks. She bought two, and took in a deep breath, steeling herself for the walk towards him. It seemed to take forever. Without saying a word, Julie handed him the plastic cup. Trent brushed her hand for a moment as he took the cup, setting her nerve endings on fire. “I’m sorry I was rude this morning,” she whispered, her voice a bit shaky. “I’m sorry I teased you last night. It wasn’t right. My ego gets the better of me now and then.” “At least you admit to being egotistical.” “I’m a Leo. We’re also generous.” He reached behind her neck and pulled forth a single perfect red rose. She took it and he bowed, leaning in to smell the rose. “How did you do that?” You’re incredible, Magic Man. Mesmerizing. What would I have to do to get you to want me? Who would I have to be? How many women do you have, what do they look like? They must be goddesses. “Truce then?” he asked. “Truce. After all, I’ll be your new neighbor.” She tried to smile naturally but had the feeling she might break a tooth her jaws were clenched so tightly. “Vortrent isn’t your real name certainly?” “If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.” He winked and the last rays of sunlight danced in his eyes. Julie sipped at her drink and steadied her purse strap on her shoulder. That’s good enough for one night, Julie. You did well. Leave before you screw it up.
“Goodnight then, Trent.” “Oh, no you don’t!” Trent caught up with Julie as she walked away and tapped on her shoulder. “What do you mean by taking off like that again? That’s enough of the demure flirtation. We don’t do things like that in Key West. Actually, that may not be true, I haven’t been here that long.” He shrugged and laughed at himself. “Flirtation? I came to watch your show.” “No, you didn’t. You didn’t even watch my show. You can’t stand the sight of the flame swallowing, can you? We’ll have to break you in slowly. Admit it, you came to watch me.” “You’re really high on yourself, aren’t you? Look, I came to make up, and we’ve done that. It’s a free country, isn’t it? You want a tip, is that it?” “What a snob! Your grandmother wasn’t a snob at all.” “I’m sick of people playing the Molly card on me. I’m not her equal in any way, all right? I admit it! What do you people want from me?” “I want you to admit that you came for me, not for my show. Not to offer some lame apology or bury the hatchet.” “You seemed to be willing enough to check me out, big time, as you would say, in Tillie’s this afternoon.” Julie tried to sound light, but heard the defensiveness in her own voice. “Oh, fuck me. You heard what I said to Bobby this morning? Then I am the reason for your transformation.” “Do you know when you say ‘fuck’ it sounds like ‘fock’? Where the hell are you from? I’m not sure I believe that accent is real. As phony as your show, maybe?” Stop now, Julie, stop it. You sound ridiculous. You’re no match for him. “No good changing the subject.” He put a palm behind her neck and pulled her in slightly. Julie thought her legs might give out at the feel of his skin on hers. She stared at the tattoo that circled his biceps, focusing on the intricate pattern. The blue black spirals seemed to undulate. Julie couldn’t focus properly and couldn’t meet his gaze. Your scent is intoxicating—what is it, Magic Man? How can anyone smell so wonderful? Do you smell like this everywhere?
“You were not the cause of my makeover. It was time for a change. I simply haven’t had time to shop or visit a salon with my job, and…my job and stuff.” He cocked his head to one side with a smirk. “Stuff? That stuff can keep one busy.” “You’re…” He put a finger on her lips to shut her up, and part of her was grateful. She’d never win a verbal sparring match with him, because everything amused him. Julie settled for tentatively reaching out for a lock of his hair, feeling the golden silk in her palm. Heat rushed through her at the simple sensation of holding onto this small bit of him. She cut his hair with her fingers and sneered. “Don’t you think it’s time for your makeover, laddie? I mean, long hair is definitely out.” “Not in my family.” As Trent laughed his eyes lit up brightly. He pulled her in another inch. “Let me go.” Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re holding me. “I’d never force a woman to do a thing she didn’t want to. But you have to convince me, because darlin’, your mouth says ‘no’ but your eyes say ‘yes’. Which is it?” All the humor left his face. “I think you’re going to leave marks on my neck.” Trent tightened his grip. “I somehow hope so. Does that make me a sicko? I want to leave my mark on you somehow.” “You really shouldn’t joke with a girl from out of town like this.” “At your age you should be able to tell what a man wants. It’s certainly useless to pretend you’re not trying to get attention.” His gaze wandered to her breasts. “My age?” “Don’t try to turn it into an insult. You know it wasn’t meant as one.” Trent pulled her in another inch. His pupils dilated as the light changed, as the sun started to set behind the cruise ship. He was so close that his warm, sweet breath tickled her cheek. Fighting the overwhelming urge to run again, she broke eye contact with him and made the mistake of looking at his mouth. Trent glanced to her lips and angled his head. “Tell me, Julie,” his breath was hot on her neck and his lips brushed her ear and just behind it as he leaned all the way in. “Yes, or no? You’ll have to tell me.”
Her eyes shot open. His were so close. Tell him, damn it. Yes, yes, yes, kiss me, take me, do anything. I worship you. “I don’t know.” Julie closed her eyes, regret flooding through her, filling her to overflowing. “What! You went to all this trouble today, and this is how you reward yourself? ‘I don’t know’. Oh, Lord, I wish Molly were here to give you a sharp tongue-lashing, Dr. Calloway.” Trent backed up and pulled his hair from her tight grasp. He mechanically began to braid it as he walked towards his metal case. After securing his hair, he turned and scowled at her. “I’m very disappointed, I don’t mind telling you. I would suggest you leave the illusions to the buskers, Julie. You aren’t very good at it. You changed your style for me, even though you were perfectly adorable before you did, and you’ll never convince me otherwise. ‘Time for a change’ my ass.” Julie threw the rose on the ground and turned away from the dock. “There you go again. Run and hide. Well, you can’t run away from every man forever…it’s so pathetically obvious, like something from a soap opera…” Jim, he sounds just like Jim, always criticizing, bullying. Julie turned on her heels, furious. She strode towards him in two seconds, dropped her purse on the ground and clutched his hair again. She planted the other on his bare chest and stared straight into his eyes. “You fucking tell me ‘yes’ or ‘no’, you arrogant son of a bitch. As if my personal life is any of your business. You don’t even know me!” His eyes widened and his mouth opened to respond but she didn’t give him the chance. “Oh, Sweet Mother of God,” he mumbled as she assaulted him. He wrapped her tightly in his arms, drowning, falling, sinking, pulled into the depths of her mouth, her soul. Trent had heard each unuttered thought sweeping through Julie’s mind, unable to stop it, unwilling to.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd. It’s all about the story… Action/Adventure Fantasy Historical Horror Mainstream Mystery/Suspense Non-Fiction Paranormal Red Hots! Romance Science Fiction Western Young Adult www.samhainpublishing.com
