“Well?” Fayle tapped her foot on the concrete floor. “Do I have to go by myself?”
“Do what you have to do.”
She moved to stand in front of the TV, blocking Dr. Phil and the guest’s heroine-addled douche of a son.
“How dare you?” she snapped. “After I saved your life? After I spent the last thirty years giving you what you need to stay alive?”
“I’m grateful, Fayle.” Meeting her gaze, he leaned forward, hoping she’d believe his sincerity. “You know that.” He’d only said as much a zillion times. “But I can get sex from other females. I’ve never forced you to stay with me.”
He had to admit, though, that having a permanent partner made his life a lot easier. Most unmated Seminus demons had to scrounge up a partner every few hours. Fayle had made herself available to Raze anytime he needed her since he’d turned twenty and she’d helped him through his first stage of maturation, when he could have died without her.
“You are such a bastard,” she snapped. “I don’t believe you’re grateful.”
He blew out a long, frustrated breath. They had this argument more often than any other. If he didn’t tell her constantly that he was grateful for everything she’d done, she threw godawful temper tantrums.
“I thank you every single day,” he said.
“Words.” She waved her hand in dismissal. “I want action. Move with me.”
“See, that’s the problem.” He looked down at the floor between his spread legs and shook his head. “I’d be more than happy to move, but that’s not what you want. You want me to quit my jobs too.”
“To prevent anyone from tracking us. You know how much I’m risking by being with you.”
He lifted his gaze sharply, unable to believe she just said that. “Actually, no, I don’t. Every time I ask, you shut down or change the subject. So how about, after thirty fucking years of being together, you tell me what will happen if your people find you?”
Her chin came up and the stubborn came out. “It’s private.”
Standing, he slammed the bottle of root beer on the coffee table, splashing liquid onto the shiny surface. “Everything is private with you. I don’t know anything about your species. I don’t know anything about your family or your life before we got together. So maybe it’s about time you stopped expecting me to roll over every time you tell me to, just because you saved my life.”
Fury turned her face red. “You . . . you . . .”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m a bastard. A bastard who’s supported you financially and emotionally for the last three decades. I even do all the cooking. You wander around sucking up sexual energy from people, and sometimes you pick up a few things at the grocery store. So stop acting like I deny you anything.”
The muscles in her jaw leaped angrily as she ground her molars. “I’ve saved your life more than once,” she bit out. “You always seem to forget that. And I keep you alive every day.” She cast his groin a pointed glance and then shot him a wicked smile that made his balls shrivel. “But tonight, I think I’ll let you be reminded of how much you need me.”
With that, she stormed off to her bedroom. His cock throbbed, as if it knew what had just happened. He’d need sex in about four hours or pain would set in. Which meant Fayle would wait to come to him until he was desperate enough to beg.
Oh, sure, he could find himself another female fairly quickly. Thirst was crawling with horny demons, vampires, and humans who would respond to the pheromones his body would be throwing out like a drug. But he didn’t want to screw strange females. Hell, he didn’t even want Fayle, but at least with her, there was no pretense, no messy seduction, no awkward postcoital conversation.
Unfortunately, what he wanted was something he couldn’t have.
And for some reason, Slake’s face popped into his head, the poster boy for Can’t Have.
His cock throbbed again.
The fucker.
The Big Boss’s office at Dire & Dyre Hong Kong was, to the untrained eye, plush, extravagant, and elegant. Slake doubted a single speck of dust would dare to settle on any of the polished surfaces.
But to those who knew better, the office was a sinister dungeon filled with lethal traps and ensorcelled relics that could melt eyeballs, hypnotize the unsuspecting, or boil a person’s blood in their veins.
That Ming vase on the bookshelf across from where Slake was sitting? Sure, it was priceless, but it also contained the ashes of a Charnel Apostle that, if sprinkled in the flame of the black candle next to it, would drain a hundred years off the life of the nearest demon.
The painting of the cherubic baby angel with the sweet smile on the wall behind the Big Boss? Yeah, with a whispered command, the angel’s eyes would light up with heat that steamed the skin off its intended victim.
Slake was always pretty uneasy in the room.
Not, of course, that he showed any sign of being nervous. Nope. In fact, he made a point of casually lounging in the uncomfortable wooden chair across from the Big Boss. Frank Dire, humans called him—humans who were clueless about the fact that he was ter’taceo, a demon in a human suit. To his inner circle, he was Dyre, and he was as evil as anyone Slake had ever known.
He was, all by himself, Dire & Dyre. He was Dire and Dyre, and when human clients demanded meetings with both “partners,” he had the ability to replicate himself for short periods of time, but only after sacrificing an innocent. The dude was a definite five on the Ufelskala scale of evil.
“So.” From across the polished mahogany desk the size of a freaking pool table, Dyre stared at Slake, his dark irises ringed by glowing scarlet. The demon inside had come out to play today. Not a good sign. “You haven’t completed your assignment.”
“I’m close.” Slake eased back in the chair even more and crossed his booted feet at the ankles, the very picture of everything’s cool. “I’ve tracked her to a vampire club in New York. She’s been seen in the company of a certain male.”
The neutral expression on Dyre’s deceptively handsome face didn’t change. “Her species is parasitic. Did she attach herself to that male?”
“Unclear. But I’m working on finding out.” If she had, it was possible that Raze would sense if she were in trouble. And a kidnapping probably counted as trouble.
Dyre picked up a gold pen and began flipping it between his fingers. Slake tensed. The guy was the most dangerous when he appeared the most casual. “The client has been very patient.”
Slake slid a glance at the angel painting. No melty eyes. So far, so good. “The client didn’t provide a lot to go on.”
“You’ve never needed a lot to go on,” Dyre countered. “You’re one of Dire & Dyre’s best hunters. So why is it taking you so long to track down one parasitic succubus?”
Gods, he was impatient. “It’s only been a month—”
“You have one week to complete your assignment.”
Slake shot out of his chair. “One . . . week? That’s bullshit! I was supposed to have until the end of next month.”
“The clients moved up the timeline.”
Son of a bitch. “Why?”
“That’s their business.”
“Yeah, well my soul is my business, and it’s affected by this new deadline.”
Dyre’s lips peeled back to reveal his shiny white teeth and big-ass fangs. “Your soul is also my business.”
As if Slake needed the reminder that Dire & Dyre didn’t exist just to make a lot of money. It existed to collect souls too, and Slake’s would become another of the law firm’s assets if he failed to bring in Fayle before the deadline.
Slake ground his molars so hard his jaw ached. “Yes, sir.”
Dyre smiled. “Good. Now that we’re in agreement, go complete your assignment.”
That had been way too easy, and with so much on the line, Slake couldn’t pass up an opportunity to dig a little deeper. “I’d think,” Slake said, “that you’d want me to fail, given that my failure would mean my soul default
s to you upon my death.”
Dyre shrugged. “Either way, I win. Either the clients pay me millions, or I get your soul. Matters little to me, except that the clients have always been good ones, and I’d like to keep them.”
As far as Slake was concerned, the clients could go fuck themselves. Whoever they were. With a mental fuck you, he escaped the office and hit the nearest Harrowgate, an ancient one that sat behind a stinky-ass fish shop. Before he stepped in, he texted Atrox.
Find out everything you can about a demon named Raze. Medic at Thirst. I want to know about every breath he’s taken since the day he was born.
Slake waited, picturing Atrox awkwardly knuckling his phone’s keyboard until he finally came back with, Is this personal or business?
Just do it.
Personal, then. Gotcha.
Slake cursed under his breath as he typed. Just do it, jackass.
:-) I love you too, buddy.
Shaking his head, Slake slipped the phone into his pocket and stepped into the Harrowgate. Instantly, the black walls lit up with symbols for Sheoul, Earth, and Underworld General Hospital. He tapped the Earth symbol, and a map of the entire globe covered the inside of the closet-sized space. He swiped a finger over the glowing continent of Europe, then Germany, then Bavaria, and finally, the Harrowgate nearest his home in the Alps.
The gate opened, and as he stepped out into the dark forest, he sighed with relief. No matter how bad his day was, it always felt good to come back here, to the place no one, not even Atrox, knew about. This was his sanctuary.
But as he trudged through trees to the log cabin sitting high on a bluff, he wondered how much longer it would remain a place of safety. Because if Dyre claimed his soul, there would be no place on Earth or in Sheoul where he could hide.
Raze should be in bed. He should be sound asleep and resting for his shift at Underworld General in the morning.
Instead, he was sitting at Thirst’s bar, letting the cacophony of nightclub life drown out the thoughts in his head.
Seven hours later, Fayle was still in retaliation mode, and this time, she was stretching it to the limit. He needed sex so badly that stabbing pains were starting to feel like tiny daggers in his groin. In another hour, the pain would turn him into a mindless monster that would attack any females near him, and if he still didn’t get sex, in another hour he’d be dead. Even now, the females were feeling the effects of his fuck-me pheromones, rubbing up against him and touching themselves, probably without even realizing what they were doing.
It would be so easy to take off with any of these females, but while his cock said yes, his mind couldn’t go there until it became too fogged with pain and need. And it wasn’t even because of his deal with Fayle. It was because he couldn’t stand how it made him feel to have sex with someone he didn’t want, simply because biology forced him to. Maybe that made him an idiot, but he wanted control over his mind and his body.
As a particularly severe stab of pain made him suck air, it crossed his mind that maybe holding out until Fayle finally came to him instead of going to her and begging was his way of punishing his body for making him need what he didn’t want.
A slinky blonde vampire approached, her hips popping with each step, her fingers trailing up and down between two plump breasts that seemed desperate to escape the tight black corset that bound them.
Raze’s cock strained even more against the fly of his jeans, but it was a response based on the need he hated so much, not desire. No, the male vamp sucking on a man near the medic station was far more Raze’s type.
So is Slake.
With a growl, Raze reached for his ice water, tempted to dump it on his crotch. Maybe an icy bath would douse the fever starting to spread from his groin.
The female vamp was closer now, her lips parted to reveal two pristine fangs. Suddenly, his field of vision filled with a curvy brunette who made him sigh with relief.
“Hey, my sweet baby,” Lexi purred, her thick Irish accent cutting through the other sounds. “Need a save?”
He grinned. Like all of the club employees, she knew he was exclusive with Fayle. But unlike everyone else, she knew the real deal. The lion shifter saw what others didn’t, and within a couple months of working at Thirst, she’d started playfully teasing him, pointing out the especially hot guys when they came in. He should have been annoyed, he guessed, but it had been a relief to have someone besides Fayle to talk to.
Fayle didn’t feel the same way.
“You’re awesome,” he said, hugging her to him and taking grim satisfaction in the way the vamp stormed off. He liked Lexi, loved that her bubbly personality concealed a genius IQ she wielded like a weapon, unleashing it now and then to knock arrogant idiots down a few pegs. Watching her tend bar for a bunch of drunk imbeciles who thought she was just a dumb, pretty face was a form of entertainment. “If I were into females . . . and lion shifters . . .”
Laughing, Lexi kissed him on the cheek. “My ass. If one of my brothers walked in here right now, you’d come all over yourself, lion shifter or not.”
“If I could do that, I wouldn’t need Fayle.” He snorted. “Which would be a blessing right now.”
Lexi frowned down at him. “What’s up her ass this time?”
Not him, that was for sure. Fayle didn’t like to be touched. Or kissed. Didn’t like her body defiled by sweat and saliva and semen. Only on very rare occasions did she allow him more than a businesslike blowjob. Gods, what he wouldn’t give for someone to touch him. To hold him. To kiss him like he was the only person in the world.
The way Slake had done just hours ago.
“Nothing,” he muttered.
“I seriously doubt that,” Lexi said, gesturing to her fellow bartender. “She’s holding out on you over this nothing, isn’t she?” The bartender handed Lexi a bottle of tequila and a shot glass. She poured a shot as she spoke. “You need to kick that controlling twat to the curb.”
“She doesn’t do this often, Lex.”
Lexi slammed the liquor and poured another. She was on duty, but management didn’t care if employees drank, as long as they could keep their shit together. Lexi could down the entire bottle and still win bartending competitions.
“Don’t give in to her this time.” Lexi dropped her hand to his thigh. “Let me take care of you.”
She offered now and then, and he’d been tempted to take her up on it. Lexi could keep sex and love separate, and he knew she’d be more than a robot in bed. But Fayle wouldn’t take it well, and he wouldn’t put Lexi in her crosshairs.
“I can’t,” he said roughly, his need growing almost out of control now. Lexi’s hand cupping his erection wasn’t helping. Neither was the fact that Slake’s face kept popping into his mind, as if it was the male massaging his cock instead of Lexi. “Fayle—”
She squeezed him, and he hissed in both pleasure at her touch, and pain at the need to come. Sweat broke out all over his body, and his mind went hazy as instinct began to override his rational thoughts.
“Fayle will get over it,” Lexi said.
He shook his head even as he arched into Lexi’s hand, and as he did, he got a glimpse of a silky black head of hair whipping around as the female it belonged to stormed toward the rear exit.
Fayle.
Cursing, he peeled Lexi’s hand away and stood. “She might get over it, but I’m the one who has to live with her until she does.”
“Good luck,” Lexi called out as he made his way through the crowd, but he barely heard her over the rush of blood pounding in his ears. His body had control now, and it took every last brain cell he had to maintain forward momentum to the apartment instead of grabbing the closest female and doing her right up against the wall.
The only thing that kept him going now was the thought that by the time he got to their place, he’d be so far gone with lust that he’d control the battle of wills that always raged between him and Fayle.
She was ready for him when he burst into the apar
tment, standing naked in the middle of the room, her clothes draped neatly over the back of the couch. A stranger would see defiance in her wide-legged stance and squared shoulders, but that was all for show.
She smelled of fear.
The incubus inside him would have preferred to smell arousal, but ultimately, he was a demon who had been driven to the very limits of his self-restraint, and the scent of her fear made his blood sing and his cock throb. He wouldn’t hurt her, but he wouldn’t spare her, either. And he sure as shit wasn’t going to let her call the shots. She hated and feared not being in control more than anything, but she’d pushed him too far, and she knew it.
When he took her roughly down to the hard floor and ground his mouth onto hers, she didn’t protest.
Not even when he murmured Slake’s name against her lips.
Slake had dreamed of Raze all night long. Then he’d thought about him all morning as he got his ass ready for the day. Now it was early afternoon, and he was still thinking about him.
It pissed him off. He never let his lovers occupy important space in his head, let alone dreamed about his lovers . . . or potential lovers. Not since Gunther. Not since Slake had been a different person. Very different.
Snarling to himself, he put his vampire ex out of him mind, but he kept Raze front and center as he fondled the smooth length of enchanted rope in his jacket pocket, one of the few objects that could immobilize a demon of Fayle’s species. Without it, she could hypnotize him or, if the rumors were accurate, she could shift into a dragon-like beast and swallow him whole.
Not cool.
The Harrowgate he’d entered a moment ago opened, and he stepped out into the bustling emergency department at Underworld General Hospital. He’d never been here before, but like everyone else who didn’t live under a rock, he’d heard about it. A hospital run by demons, vampires, and weres that existed under the streets of Manhattan, right under human noses, was sort of a big deal in the underworld community, even if a large percentage thought it was a stupid concept.