Blood In The Stars (2 page)

Had John known Daria’s identity? Or was it a fly-by-night search for prey? The demon hadn’t said anything to indicate one or the other, but did he know now after seeing Jason’s sword? After all, why would the ruling House protect some random human woman?

Jason pounded his fist on the end table, shattering the glass surface. He frowned. That was the third time this week. The clerk at the furniture store already gave him funny looks when he’d placed his most recent replacement order.

He took out the dustpan to clean up the broken glass. As he swept up the shards, he told himself better another table than a dead demon on his hands.

When Daria fled down the alleyway, the urge to kill the succubus consumed him. With fists clenched and blood boiling, his powers had snaked down his arms, tickling his fingertips, eager to fry the enemy.

For a brief second, he knew he held the succubus’ fragile life in his hands. The pure dominance sent his adrenalin pumping, confidence soaring, and mercy fading. His father must have felt the same supremacy all those centuries ago when he warred with his family. And that exact thought had held Jason back.

He wouldn’t be like his father, letting the thrill of the hunt, the pleasure of the kill, control him. He would never let his emotions get in the way and force the entire clan into the same predicament. The same punishment. No, the person most like his father was his older brother.

It had taken a moment to leash his powers before he stepped out from the shadow to save her. Once he had her in his arms, he hadn’t wanted to let go.

Her wrist, small and fragile, had disappeared in the span of his hand. Despite his coat, her body heat permeated her dress and scorched his arm while her shallow breaths grazed his chin when she stared at him. He had never held anything so precious in his life.

Jason wanted her then and there, pressed between his body and the brick wall. But John stood in front of them, so Jason had bitten the inside of his mouth to bring him back to the cruel realities facing them, and drove off the demon. Before he succumbed to the desire to kiss her dizzy, he made her fall asleep.

He sighed, dumping the broken glass into the trash bin and shoving the cleaning supplies back into the closet. He stomped out to the balcony for a breath of fresh air to cool the heat coursing through him from the memory.

The glittering electric lights of downtown blocked out any hope of seeing the stars. Not that he wanted to see them. Stars had started this whole problem to begin with.

Every five hundred years, the alignment of stars and signs gave birth to an auspicious child who could grant untold power. When three children across the globe had been born a split second from each other, his father had assigned each of his children to one of the babies. Jason had been assigned Daria.

Sweet Daria had been alive for exactly three minutes and forty-nine seconds when he first laid eyes on her. And he had watched her ever since. Every minute of every day.

Now twenty-seven years later, Daria was the only auspicious child still alive. The first child died within a month of birth. The second one had a rare congenital cancer that killed it within a few years of life.

The auspicious ones had uncanny bad luck and bad health. Daria was no different. Plus, monsters had come for her early on. But Jason drove them off. He’d never allow another auspicious one under his guard to die.

Soon, all the supernatural creatures in the realm would come for her. Likely renegades, easy to dispose of. Easier, now that he had centuries of training.

But the ones sent from the other Houses were a different story. The laws of their land allowed the oldest son or daughter of each House to claim the auspicious one. Maybe the other Houses had already sent their children.

And he couldn’t even warn her. Couldn’t tell her to be careful of someone’s motives, much less that people would try to kill her. Because she couldn’t know he existed or had protected her all these years.

Even if he could, he didn’t know what to say. Not yet, not when he hadn’t prepared a good explanation. Jason ran his hand through his hair. There was too much at stake and not enough time. He had practiced for years what to tell her. Lies were much prettier, after all. The truth? Too frightening for words.

Every second that passed merely edged Daria closer to danger.

Because she was the last one.

Suddenly, he frowned and turned to face the living room. “The door, Candy. Use the door.”

Candy slipped out from between the shadows and strode over in unrelieved black, from her thigh-high, black patent leather boots, to her leather mini paired with a matching vest. Her hair fell to her waist in a blond waterfall and swished silently as she entered the balcony. She shrugged a pretty shoulder to indicate she didn’t care for doors.

“I wasn’t expecting you.” He never expected anyone. After leaving his House more than five hundred years ago, he had lived in solitude. The silence allowed him to reflect on everything that had brought him to his self-exile. For the most part, he enjoyed the isolation. Candy was the only one from his House who visited. Uninvited.

She shrugged again. “I’ve been asked to help you guard the auspicious one.”

His heart slammed against his chest. His father intended to take Daria away.
Over my dead body
. Jason frowned and narrowed his eyes, preparing for an argument.

“Don’t be
too
excited now,” she mocked.

“I’m not going to leave her to you.”

“And no one has asked you to. I’m just here to help.” Candy paused and then bit her blood-red lips as she searched for the right words. “She’s nearing maturation. It’s in the air. They hunger and lust for her.”

Jason turned away, his knuckles turning white from the tight grip on the balcony railing. Sometimes he wondered if the auspicious ones had a target painted on their foreheads. Why did everyone in the world know when to come?

But he too, could smell it. The smell of power. He shook his head. That wasn’t what drew him to her. She plagued his mind, possessed his soul. He’d have her or no one. It had nothing to do with her undiscovered powers and everything to do with all he knew about her. Her drive for success, her warm nature, and most of all, under that veneer of confidence, a staid loneliness that made him want to protect her all the more.

“I can help you with your little love dilemma,” Candy mused. “Like set you up on a blind date, maybe? She hasn’t cancelled her subscription yet.”

A scathing remark sat on the tip of Jason’s tongue but he stopped short of unleashing it. He didn’t have a ‘love dilemma’ as Candy called it.

What he had was . . . Jason didn’t know what to call it. It began as a long-burning flame that in recent years had become an explosion threatening to burst from his chest, barely contained by sheer willpower. Whatever it was, the intensity often unnerved him.

As for the blind date, Candy didn’t propose a novel idea. He’d thought of something similar a few days ago. If Daria wanted to date, he was happy to step in. At least he was worthy of her.

“That’s a good idea,” he conceded.

Her smile widened and she winked. “Anything to help.” Then with a wave of her fingers, she disappeared into the shadows.

A ping sounded from the kitchen as though it had waited for Candy to leave.
Oven mail
. He stalked to the oven and wrenched open the door. Why did his family not pick up the telephone like normal people?

Because we’re not normal people.
Alastor’s scolding, almost mocking voice echoed in his head. Jason’s thoughts drifted over the centuries and paused on the day he first met humans. That was when he knew his family was different. That they weren’t normal. Nor were they people.

“Yeah, I know,” Jason muttered. He snatched the folded sheet of paper, still warm from traveling, and shut the oven door.

His name was written on the back of the page. Jason recognized the handwriting. His brother’s. He unfolded the sheet of paper and felt his blood pressure rise exponentially.

Will be there soon.

A

Jason’s fingers curled around the paper, crushing it into a ball, enjoying the crunch and crackle with grim satisfaction. Great. After all this time. He’d be counting the seconds. Cursing under his breath, Jason pitched the ball of paper into the trash.

The last person he wanted to see.

Alastor.

Chapter 2

Daria trudged to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. What a horrible nightmare. About demons, no less. Icy fingers tickled her nerve endings as she dried her face on a towel. Then she turned on the hot water to fill the tub and threw in lavender bath salts.

She had awoken twenty minutes ago and glanced at her clock to discover she had missed her blind date with John. Yet when she heard the beep of a voicemail on her phone, she had been surprised to hear the matchmaking service apologize for her date’s late cancellation. They had someone else lined up for her tomorrow evening if she was interested.

None of it made any sense, though. How had she dressed up only to fall asleep in her room? It wasn’t like her. She never missed appointments. Even stranger still, she had dreamed she had gone on this cancelled date.

Now as Daria stared at the water filling the tub, she wondered if the stress at work had manifested itself into nightmares. She adjusted the temperature of the water before shedding her clothes and sinking in. The hot water soothed her tense muscles and the steam misting her face felt good. Daria breathed in the sweet lavender scent and closed her eyes.

Long, black fingernails danced before her.

Her eyes shot open and her head jerked toward the door, her heart pounding. Nothing. She was alone. Her heartbeats steadied but she didn’t peel her eyes away from the door for several seconds. Then she shut her eyes again and sank back into the welcome warmth of the water.

Just a dream. It’s not real.
If she repeated the mantra to herself many times, over many years, maybe she would believe it. The way she’d made herself believe monsters hadn’t killed her parents.

She hadn’t thought about the accident in years. Hadn’t let herself think about it for fear the social workers would see her cracking at the seams. But tonight her dream, so real she could see John’s tail and wings, could smell the man who saved her, reminded her of the truth she had denied all these years.

After telling the police that old, raggedly women had flown at her family’s car, sending it out of control into a ravine, the police had delivered her straight to a shrink. At first she had insisted monsters attacked them. Then, as the psychiatrist’s worry visibly grew and she heard murmurs of ‘caretaker,’ Daria agreed with the psychoanalysis. Yes. It was her guilt speaking. Monsters hadn’t killed her parents. They had simply lost control of the vehicle. Everything else was her survivor’s guilt.

It had happened eleven years ago, but the vision of those old women remained fresh in her mind. They had come with their shredded, gray robes, cavernous black eyes, and emaciated faces, flying straight into their front windshield. Her mother’s screams mingled with her father’s shouts. Daria had sat silent and frozen in the back seat, too scared to speak or cry.

The glass had shattered into a million pieces and just as an old woman reached gnarled hands toward her, a brilliant white light had burst in from the side window. She didn’t remember anything after that. The next thing she knew, she sat on the ground with a blanket draped over her shoulders while officers explained she was lucky to have been thrown from the car.

‘Miracle,’ they called it. It felt more like a curse.

For the first few years, the accident haunted her dreams. They faded when she went to college and vanished to the back of her mind during law school. The nightmares had left her alone for two years now. Why had they come back in a different form?

She kneaded her shoulders and looked at her wrinkled hands. Time to get out.

Maybe she’d check out this new prospect the dating service had given her. Not that she wanted to go on more bad dates.

Even now she didn’t understand what compelled her to join in the first place. A few weeks ago, an unfamiliar emptiness had invaded the depths of her soul. After losing her parents, she had spent two years in foster homes before she left for university. From the moment they died, she became a self-proclaimed loner. She made friends well enough, but she didn’t
need
them. She went from university to law school to a firm job. The road she’d traveled had come with all the normal speed bumps of any student turned job seeker.

It had also come with moments of extreme loneliness. She didn’t have a best friend. Her relationships never lasted for more than a few months.

As the years went by, she stopped noticing the isolated life she led. It became a constant, reliable companion, one that encouraged her to forge ahead with her dreams because she didn’t have anything or anyone holding her back.

Until recently.

At night, for no apparent reason, sadness stretched its invasive fingers around her heart and squeezed. Had she focused on the wrong priorities all these years? Was her happiness not paramount?

Not that she wasn’t happy, but everything she had in life didn’t seem enough. Something was missing.

Her nightmare came back to mock her.
Career woman who has everything but won’t feel fulfilled until she finds a man.
A sigh escaped at the thought. She didn’t need a man to feel fulfilled. She couldn’t even really explain it. But lately, a strange urge had come over her—one that said she needed to settle down, that she sought something, or someone.

Someone
. What a pleasant thought. She wanted children someday but of course, she needed a boyfriend first. A sad smile touched her lips. It would be nice to have someone to hang out with once in a while. Someone to stand with along the riverwalk as they stared at tourists. Someone to hold her hand as they shopped along Michigan Avenue.

Maybe the demon in her dream mirrored the demon in her life. Perhaps she really did need a man to feel fulfilled.

Yet the dates had brought nothing but disappointment. Some were socially awkward. Others had asked her to pay for half of dinner. She had wanted to tell them if they couldn’t afford to take a girl out to dinner, then they shouldn’t have joined the service at all. But she had kept her mouth shut and continued to go on the blind dates arranged for her.

Tomorrow would be the last one. No more excuses for crappy profiles, either. With this strict resolve, Daria turned on her laptop and logged into her account. Her jaw dropped.

A picture of a gorgeous man greeted her. She clicked it to enlarge and let out a long, wistful breath.

The man stood outside an office building. With the sleeves of his baby blue dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and the first two buttons undone, he appeared relaxed from a hard day on the job. He’d shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, the material emphasizing his long legs.

She clicked on the next picture, a headshot. His short black hair stood spiky in front and his dark brows curved into perfect arches. Lush lips smiled to give a glimpse of straight, white teeth.

Her mouth had gone dry and with a will of its own, her finger trailed down the edge of his jaw to outline the contour of his mouth.

The picture drew her in, not because of his stunning face that could have any woman in the world, but because she suddenly felt this man needed her. He was as lonely as she was. Daria shook her head. What was she thinking? This guy didn’t need anyone with that great smile. Yet when she studied the picture more, her first impression ingrained itself further in her mind. Yes. Desolation lined his eyes. But why? He was beautiful.

Was this man a model? Did people like him actually exist? And if they did, would they date
her
?

Probably not.

She glanced at the mirror in her room and noted the dark circles around her eyes. Great. She looked like death warmed over.

Tomorrow night, the matchmaking service had said. All she had to do was accept on the website and then show up at the right location at the right time. She moved the cursor across the screen to accept the date.

Then she hesitated, her confidence wavering. Maybe she was setting herself up for rejection. Doubt rippled through her.

Quickly, before she changed her mind, Daria accepted the date. She swallowed hard, surprised at her rash decision. Then she began to rationalize it. A meeting wouldn’t hurt. And if things didn’t go well, she didn’t have to see him again. She nodded to reaffirm her logic. Yes, one date. She needed to put herself out there. Wanted to.

She opened the man’s profile, realizing she didn’t even know his name. Her brows met after she saw it. How interesting.

Jason Angel.

Daria sat in the cab tapping her fingers while the car waited at a red light. She didn’t know what the dating service was thinking. She hated sports bars. One could never shout loud enough for anyone to hear above the din. And sports weren’t her thing to begin with.

She preferred dinner at a cozy restaurant where the chatter never buzzed into a roar. Or a symphony. But that wouldn’t allow them to talk, which occasionally she thanked her lucky stars for.

This time however, she looked forward to talking and the prospect of screaming across the table while others cheered every time some athlete scored a goal, didn’t appeal to her.

All the complaining in her head helped to take her mind off the jitters attacking her stomach and the pounding in her heart. She didn’t even know why she was nervous. She had gone on dozens of these blind dates and she had taken each of them in stride, never experiencing any anxiety in the process. But tonight was different.

Only this time did an overwhelming anticipation fill her. She pressed her hand to her heart, reminding herself to stay composed. Just another blind date. No big deal.

The cab slowed and Daria glanced out the window. A man stood in front of the bar, his clothes and skin illuminated red and blue from the fluorescent sign and slightly yellowed amid the glow of streetlights. He had dark hair but stood too far away for her to recognize.

Her heart stuttered before thundering in her chest. She was sure they could hear it as far south as Hyde Park. So much for staying composed.

The driver muttered the cost of the ride and she whipped out ten dollars before stepping outside. A cool breeze swished around her bare legs, reminding her that beauty came with sacrifices. She had donned a blue, floral sundress with an A-line shape. A white cardigan helped to keep out the cold and she matched everything with white sandals and a purse.

Her chest clenched and her stomach practiced gymnastics as she neared.
Keep it cool, Daria.
Her date appeared hot in the photos, but he was absolutely gorgeous in person. He wore a fitted black tee that showed off the muscles in his arms and his dark blue jeans emphasized a narrow waist and strong legs. Michelangelo couldn’t have imagined a more perfect face to carve in marble. His rugged jaw line begged for caresses and she suspected it could lift in defiance or bow in shyness as it did now.

And he looked strangely familiar. Where and when had they met before? Her brows furrowed. Surely she’d remember if they had. No one could forget a face like his.

She stepped closer and oddly, warmth and belonging replaced her anxiety. Things were going to go well. She could feel it.

The smile that spread on her face blossomed straight from her heart, and with her hand outstretched, she greeted, “Hi, you must be Jason. I’m Daria. Nice to meet you.”

He grinned and responded with a firm handshake, introducing himself in turn. When his fingertips touched the inside of her wrist, little shivers wound up her arm, teasing her memory. The shyness she thought she saw disappeared. The man exuded confidence with his easy smile and height, which she’d bet measured over six feet. Why he possibly needed a dating service was beyond her imagination. She’d have to ask him that in a bit.

A sparkle on his wrists winked at her. Bracelets? She didn’t have a chance for a second look as they went inside. He politely allowed her to walk ahead of him, which didn’t give her the chance to study him more.

Dozens of people stood around the bar and almost all the tables had customers. From the sudden cheer, she guessed an important game played on the screen.

Several women turned around and stared at Jason as they walked by. Their gaze darted from him to her, and she could guess what they were thinking. Why did a guy like that date a girl like her? Daria gritted her teeth. Well, he was, so too bad. One woman tossed Jason an inviting smile. Great. The consequences of a hot date.

They stopped in front of their table and sat down. She tried not to let the stares bother her and reached for the menu, expecting to order first. Instead, she found him smiling at her, displaying teeth befitting a toothpaste ad.

“I’m really happy you could make it. I know it was a little last minute. But I couldn’t wait to see you.”

She blinked, dazzled by his smile. She could stare at him for hours if he always smiled at her like that.

It dawned on her that he waited for a response. Blood rushed to her face. She shouldn’t have zoned out like that. After clearing her throat, she asked, “Why?”

“I was sure we’d get along.”

Strange. But she had just thought the same thing. She somehow
knew
tonight would go well. But she wouldn’t tell him in case she sounded desperate or weird or maybe both.

He didn’t elaborate and instead gave her another sweet smile before browsing the menu. She took the opportunity to study him.

He had long fingers, neat, trimmed nails, and a gentle curl in his lashes. When he pursed his lips while musing over something he read, she wondered what his kiss felt like.

She jerked the menu to her face.
Idiot
. She was thinking like an infatuated teenager. What was wrong with her? She was a professional woman with a bright career ahead of her, not some girl trying to get a new ‘M-R-S’ degree.

Only when she was sure her face had returned to its normal color did Daria lower the menu. They ordered their dinner and the next hour passed by in a blur. They chatted about food and movies, books and hobbies. His eyes never strayed from her the entire evening and his attention made it easy to ignore the sound of televisions and neighboring noise.

A dimple appeared with every smile, turning him boyish and shy. He also talked with his hands and she caught several glimpses of thin black bands with a small silver buckle clasped to each wrist. Yet when she planned to ask him about it, he withdrew his hands to his lap.