Beast of Fire -- a Demon Hunting Sexy Romance (2 page)

Finally she cleared the crowd, blinking past the haze of strobe lights and smoke, until she could focus on the bar. Kresley sucked in a breath and drew to a dead halt. Not because Lucan stood beside it, one arm resting on the counter. But because something about him was so lethally inhuman, it downright stole her breath. On the surface he was still the gorgeous, muscular male clad in jeans and a T-shirt. But she watched as he studied his surroundings with the casual façade of nonchalant interest, cataloging some unknown prey’s actions–just as she was studying his. Waiting for a kill. Waiting for a kill. The words slid into her mind with absolute certainty. Her gut twisted with the understanding of what he’d become.
 

An assassin for the Underworld.
 

She’d barely finished the thought– relieved to know that, indeed, he wasn’t living in hell’s snake pits, as she had feared–when Lucan launched into action. Her heart gave a little jump at the sudden movement, but she didn’t hesitate to pursue him. She wasn’t about to lose him when she’d just found him.
 

Weaving through the crowd, she kept him in view, knew the moment he rounded a corner and disappeared down a hallway, leading to what she thought must be restrooms. Quickly following, she found the hallway, just as the chilled autumn wind gusted through a backdoor, a red "exit" sign glowing above the frame. Kresley raced for the door and caught it before the metal hinge snapped into place. Voices sounded in the distance, angry voices that had her throwing caution aside, and exiting into the narrow and poorly lit alley. She scrambled to a big, steel Dumpster and eased to the edge to see what was going on.
 

Kresley sucked in a breath at the sight before her – Lucan facing four opponents, men who weren’t men at all. Men who were shifting into some sort of creatures, faces distorting, clothing ripping with bulging muscles and increased height. These were not the Darkland Beasts, the Demons she knew about. They were bigger, with hair sprouting from their clean-shaven jaws. As she watched, their teeth became fangs; their cheekbones, jagged and distinct. They looked like ...Werewolves.
 
She would have thought this was crazy a year ago, but not now. Now anything supernatural was accepted.

A sudden rush of movement unfolded, and Kresley watched in horror as the wolves teamed up on Lucan, one lunging at him from either side. And thankfully he’d produced a sword from who-knew-where. Yet she sensed it wouldn’t be enough. She just knew it wouldn’t be enough.
 

Instinct launched Kresley into action, the confidence of a year of training for battle behind her. She darted forward, into the open. Lucan threw one wolf against the wall, and then another, drawing his sword a moment before the other two wolves came at him.
 

Kresley inhaled and put her firestarting to use, pointing at the ground near the group of enemy wolves’ feet; a line of fire appeared as a barrier, a line that quickly disappeared with only pavement to absorb its impact. The instant it faded, the two wolves came at her.
 

Kresley’s heart jumped into her throat, and in a split second, she had to decide to either turn her fire on them, burning them alive, or run. Sick to her stomach at her weakness, she started backwards, the seconds passing in slow motion. Use your fire, use your fire. But she knew at this close range, she would burn them alive. She’d never burned anyone alive, not even a Demon. Do it before you die!

Suddenly, the two wolves arched their backs and screeched out in pain. They fell to their knees and Lucan stood above them, his sword in his hands. With one long swipe of his sword, followed by another, he sliced through their necks. Their heads fell to the ground–no blood spurted out. A moment later, their bodies burst into flames and then dissolved into ash. She’d seen the Darkland Beasts die the same way, and it was proof the wolves were Demons, born of hell, sent back to hell.
 

Footsteps sounded to her right, the sound of the remaining Werewolves running away. But she didn’t turn to them. Lucan was staring at her, his hand clenched around the sword, his body shaking. His eyes were dark, the depths absent of reality. His jaw clenched.

“Lucan?” she whispered, hoping he could remember her, praying the few days she’d known him were enough to break through whatever darkness consumed him. But he said nothing, did nothing. Slowly, she walked toward him. His sword lowered, inch by inch, to his side, but still he stared at her blankly.
   

When finally she stood in front of him, she whispered his name again. “Lucan. Lucan, it’s me. Kresley.” She reached out and touched his shoulder and gasped with the impact of that connection. Heat raced down her arms, over her shoulders, charged her with a fire unlike any she herself could create. She didn't know what was happening to her, nor did she try to understand. Instead, she allowed hope to invade her heart. Let him feel this, too. Let him remember me. “Lucan.”
 

Lucan’s eyes darkened and then seemed to lighten, seemed to fill with life, with recognition. The sword fell to the ground. "Kresley.” His hands went to her face, traced her hair. “Kresley.”

He remembered her!
 
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”
 

He pulled her into his arms, held her tight, hugged her until she couldn’t breathe. But she didn’t care. This was what she had come for; he was what she had come for. She told herself it was to right her wrongs, to take his place and send him home. But in those moments, it felt like so much more. Moments that ended way too soon, as Lucan suddenly jerked back and stepped away from her. Leaving her feeling desperate to pull him close again, needing that contact in some inexplicable way. She started forward and he quickly retreated. “Lucan—"
 

He cut her off, angst in his voice. “You shouldn’t be here, Kresley.” He inhaled and let it out, and repeated the words more firmly. “You shouldn’t be here. You can’t be here. Go. Now. Back to the ranch. Go before it’s too late.”
 

She shook her head. “It’s already too late,” she whispered, speaking the truth. And once he learned of the lines she'd crossed, the darkness she'd touched, to get here tonight, he’d know, too. She’d left the ranch knowing she could never go back. She’d left the ranch knowing she’d come to make a deal with the Underworld – to trade herself for Lucan.

Chapter Two

Lucan had no idea why Kresley thought it was too late to return to the ranch. It wasn’t too late. But it would be if he touched her again. He didn’t know if Kresley knew of their mating bond; he hoped she did not. Had he not known of their connection before now, touching her had delivered absolute certainty, delivered a rush of desire laced with danger. Because he could destroy her with that passion, with his desire to mark her as his. For that mark could link her future to his – – to the hell the silver bracelets around his wrists bound him to, as a slave to the Guardians of hell’s snake pits.
 

Claim her. Make her yours. Lucan heard the voices in his head, knew the words were from the Demons that possessed him, knew those Demons wanted Kresley. They wanted him to claim her so they would also own her; they wanted him to mark her as his mate.
 

 
“Go back to the ranch, Kresley,” he ordered, continuing to back away from her, telling himself to turn and run far from this place, fighting the burn to go to her, to pull her close. “They will protect you there. No Demon will find you there.” Especially not me, he silently added.
 

“Lucan,” she whispered, stepping closer, that fiery red hair, veiled by the alley's dim light, cascading along her petite shoulders. But he could still see its vibrant shade in his mind; in fact, he could see better than he had seen in a year, could see beyond the dark. It had to be another trick of the Guardians, a way to mess with his mind, a way to play with his head. He couldn’t let them succeed.
 

“Stay away from me, Kresley,” he hissed between his teeth, his tone harsh by design. “I don’t want you here.
 
Not now. Not ever.”
 

“I can’t leave you here. I can’t let you sacrifice yourself. I won’t–"

He sliced a hand through the air, letting anger fill him. And he was angry.
 
“You will. It’s done.” His chest tightened with guilt as he pressed onward, knowing he was lashing out, but promising himself it was for her own good. “Don’t make it all for nothing because you were foolish enough to put yourself at risk. Go back where you belong.” He didn’t give himself time to see the hurt in her expression; he couldn’t bear it.
 

Lucan turned and started running. But she followed. He could hear her screaming his name, hear her boots behind him on the pavement. She’d never keep up, though. Not with his supernatural speed.
 

He was leaving her behind, but probably not for long. Her pursuit was proof she’d keep coming, keep looking. Didn’t she understand? The Guardians wanted her; they’d tried to claim her through his mating bond with her. His life was hell. He wouldn’t let hers be, too.
 

He had to do something to stop her once and for all. Something to send her back to the ranch and make sure she stayed there. He knew what he had to do–it was something he dreaded. And he didn’t dare form the action into words in his mind, knowing the Guardians read his thoughts. He’d learned to manipulate his mind to keep certain
      
things out of their reach. He knew he’d pay a price for doing it, too, and pay with pain. But then, hell was his life. What was a little pain to go along with it?
 

With that thought in his mind, Lucan continued pushing himself forward, taking one corner and then the next in long, determined strides. He knew the second he’d lost Kresley, the moment she was gone. Missed not one step to hesitation as he traveled the mile it took him to enter a deserted subway long ago retired, and then enter a side tunnel. Another mile and the thrum of a hard-rock band filtered through the air, but he kept his mind carefully blank, careful that he acknowledged nothing around him beyond a minute brush of awareness, careful it did not penetrate the deep recesses of his mind where the Guardians could extract information.
   

Lucan's steps quickened as he grew closer to "Sabboth," the Underworld bar owned by a Demon named Seth. Lucan had killed Seth’s brother two nights before. He would be chopped beef inside that club, which was exactly why he’d come here. The Guardians might enjoy torturing him with hideous nightmares, mental pain and anguish, but they didn’t want him dead. They'd brought him to his knees with instant hallucinations without warning, tore through his mind with horrific images no one should be subjected to. And they'd enjoyed every second of his torture. Enjoyed his disobedience simply for the pleasure of making him pay for it. But if they attacked his mind inside Sabboth, he’d end up dead, and all their fun at his expense would be over.
 

The entrance came into view, purple lights glowing around the frame. As Lucan stepped through the door, a security laser scanned his eyes, so he knew he had about three minutes to do what he had come to do before Seth and his Demon buds came for him. Lucan walked slowly, lazily toward the bar, thoughts clear, free of anything he didn't want the Guardians to read, but he could feel his wrists tingling, feel them stir in his mind.
 

He stopped at the bar, slapped a hundred-dollar bill on the counter and spoke to the flat-nosed Demon that looked more bulldog than bartender. “Phone and make it quick.” The Demon narrowed his eyes on Lucan, a flicker of red in their depths. Lucan slid another bill on the counter. "That’s my limit.”
 

The Demon grinned, showing fanged teeth, and reached under the bar, retrieving a phone. “Reception is hell down here, but you're welcome to try.”
 

Lucan was trying all right, already dialing, his gut twisting in knots, a number he thought he’d never dial again – the Knights' leader, Jag. He had no right to call for himself, no justification to ask for help. He’d turned his back on the Knights, and there was no undoing that wrong. But this wasn’t for him. It was for Kresley. Jag had to get her out of here.

“Come on, come on,” he murmured, listening to the ring tone, hoping for Jag’s voice.
 

“You bastard!”

The exclamation came from behind. Seth. Crap! Lucan turned with the phone still at his ear and brought Seth’s three-hundred-pound frame into view, the Demon's red eyes bulging as he charged forward. He plummeted into Lucan, sending the phone flying to the floor. Lucan shoved Seth off of him, using the supernatural strength of a Knight. Seth flew backwards, and Lucan dove for the phone, flat on his stomach, sliding across the hard-ass concrete floor. A booted foot kicked it out of the way, and Lucan jumped to his feet, preparing for attack.
 

To his utter horror, he found himself facing the towering, leather-clad, presence of Adrian, Leader of the Darkland Beasts. The Demon who showed himself in god-like perfection, the long, blond hair and muscular body. But he was pure evil, a stain on life by his very existence. The Demon that Lucan had made his deal with. The Darkland Leader that Lucan had not seen in a year. The bar went silent, every Demon within terrified for their lives.
 

But not Lucan. At his core, he was still a Knight of White, and he clung to that. A year ago, he’d come to Adrian for one reason only. To save Kresley from the Guardian’s hold over her.