Defying Instinct (Demon Instinct Series) (16 page)

But
then I remembered it was just a glamour.  I had no idea what Rowan looked like,
what any of the demons I’d befriended looked like. 

I
felt cheated.

“What
is wrong?” he asked, concern in his tone as he read my expression.  But not my
projections.  Made me question what I’d thought before, that what he didn’t
like about me was that I felt emotions.  Maybe it was simply being forced to
feel them that bothered him.

“I’m
fine,” I sighed, pulling my hair off my warm neck.  It had been getting pretty
cold with the electricity off, but I couldn’t feel it now.  “Honestly?  I’d
like to get out of here for a while.  The walls are starting to suffocate me.”

The
Hammer nodded thoughtfully as if he felt the same way, then looked sly.  “We do
have more training we could attempt, if you feel up for it.”

“What
else do I need to know?”

“Telepathing
to different castes at the same time.  It might be easy for you, now that
you’ve found control.  But it’s something we could…go test.”

I
could telepath with Benn and demons at the same time, and everyone could hear
my telepaths before.  Wasn’t that the same as different castes?  But Rowan
didn’t know I could do that, and I got the impression the training was only an
excuse to go.

“Where?”

“Faction,”
he said, and my eyes lit up.  “I’ve…arranged for a friend of mine to be your
guard, if you would like to go.”

I
raised an eyebrow.  “Is it safe...for me?”

“Decidedly
not,” Rowan smirked.  “But I vow to your safety.”

“When
did you talk to your friend about it?”

“After
our first conversation.”

“But,”
I twisted the hem of his sweater around my fingers, “why?”

“You’ve
been too sheltered from our world.  Our Scion should know what is out there.” 
Rowan cleared his throat.  “Faction is…quite a sight to see.  I suspect you’re
curiosity could use some sating.”

He
was so right.  I’d been caging my curiosity for too many days.  It wasn’t the
walls that were suffocating me.  It was the way the lack of answers was making
me mentally come apart at the seams.  The information he’d told me earlier only
made me crave more.

How…thoughtful
of you.  Thank you.

“You’re
welcome,” he said, swiping my tea from the coffee table.  “So, you’re in?”

“Definitely.”

“All
right,” he took a loud slurp from my mug, then sat it on the table again. 
“Take my hand.”

I
jerked.  “Now?”

“You
said you needed to get out for a while.”

“What
about…?”

“Cyrus
knows, he’ll tell Grayson and Bennett.  We’re all set.”

I looked
at his outstretched hand, then down at the mug of tea we’d sort of shared that
made some new curl of feeling I’d never felt before make my legs unsteady. 

It
had been four days, and finally I had to make a decision.  I could refuse, and
be who I used to be, or I could take his hand and stop pointlessly treading
water.  Without any further hesitation, I slid my hand into Rowan’s. 

ZING!

Electricity
tingled up my arm, the heat of his hand so scorching, it felt like I was on
fire.  My mouth fell open at the sensation.  Skin to skin.  Incredible.  I had
no idea before that moment how starved for touch I was.   

“Hold
on tight,” he leaned in and whispered.  Grasping hands in the dark, the
closeness felt extremely intimate.  It kicked my pulse up and stole my breath.

Before
I could process my reaction to him, we jumped.

I
didn’t think jumping was the term they should use for their teleportation.  It
was more like stepping into a tornado, squeezing your eyes shut, and hoping like
hell you didn’t lose a body part in the process of getting wherever you were
going.

“Curiosity
abated,” I muttered when the spinning stopped.  The strange feeling only lasted
a few seconds.  Once my stomach rejoined my body, I was able to take in the sight
of where the Hammer had jumped me.

Faction
was like a hippy commune.  Daylight, warm, and in full bloom here, wherever we
were, I knew it couldn’t be anywhere near my hometown. 

Where
were we?  Or, were we still even Up Above?  I looked up at a big, yellow sun
that looked the same as the one I knew.  Not underground then.

The
air smelled crisp and sweet like honeysuckle and earth.  Buildings made of red
tinted clay contrasted with lush green fields, a cloudless sky, and colorfully
clothed creatures, none of which looked human. 

Unglamoured
demons were intermixed with glamoured ones.  I recognized male glamoured Razers
by their striking cobalt blue eyes and the ridge in the middle of their
foreheads, but not many of the others.  Big, hulking males, too huge to be
real.  Tempter females with silver eyes drawing male attention.  And several
that looked like monsters.

When
Rowan’s index finger lifted my chin, I realized I had been gawking.

ZingZingZing,
wherever he touched me. My skin hummed wherever he touched me, even after he
pulled away.

My
body reacted on a primitive level, making me extremely aware of every skin to
skin contact with him.  Before, I could have gone weeks.  Months.  Or longer
without touch of any kind.  I’d never known I’d been missing out on anything. 
Never knew it was something I needed.

A
form emerged from a crowd of similar looking monsters, heading right for us.

The
creature crossing the field looked me up and down, appraising my appearance
with big, alien eyes.  At first, I was uneasy with the blatant attention from a
being that looked utterly grotesque.  But as he drew closer, and Rowan didn’t grow
agitated, I realized this male was the one we’d come to meet.

He
was going to be my protector while I was here.  Rowan wouldn’t put me in danger. 
He’d vowed I’d be safe.  So I tucked away my panic, and the unease about my
looks being evaluated so openly.  I leaned into Rowan’s shoulder.

“Meet
Connell,” Rowan growled, I thought in disapproval, so I pulled away from his
shoulder before he said, “a full-caste Mischief demon.”

Connell,
now standing only a few feet away, was a sight to see.  Unglamoured, Mischief
demons apparently were…odd.  But that wasn’t the right word at all. 

“You
smell like lemon, Rowe,” the demon said as I tried to make sense of what I was
looking at.

“She
poured tea over my head.”

The
demon threw his head back, shaking with mirth.  “Well really, who hasn’t wanted
to do that?”

Bright
orange hair flamed on the top of his head, eyebrows, eyelashes, and from the
stubble on his chin.  His shape was human-like with all the expected parts, but
he hardly looked human.

His
eyes had no color whatsoever.  I was afraid to look too closely, because the
lack of color suggested they were see-through, like glass, and I didn’t want to
see what was on the other side.

His
body was lean and spindly with arms and legs almost twice as long as a human’s,
and oddly angled, long, bony fingers.  He could have been seven feet tall, but
it was hard to tell because he hunched, slender shoulders angled down.

“Like
what you see, beauty?”

Startled,
I instinctively looked up to the demon’s eyes, and was relieved not to see
blood and brains on the other side.  All that lay beyond the glass-like orbs
were veins.  Weird.  Mesmerizing, really.  But not gross.

“I’ve
never seen an unglamoured Mischief demon before.”

He
turned, as if to give me a more thorough view, and I saw the wings sprouting
from his back.  If bats and lizards mated, this would be what their offspring’s
wings would look like.  They were almost fragile looking, some parts like
tissue paper with veins threading through them.  They were very cool.  

Do
they function?
I knew the question
was inappropriate and wished I could take it back, but I’d telepathed already. 

My
curiosity was insatiable.

Yet
the look of shock on Connell’s face wasn’t because of my tactless question. 
Wide-eyed, he gaped at Rowan for a few seconds before turning his attention
back to me, studying my face.  Recognition struck his expression as he gazed
into my eyes.

A shaky
whisper, “you’re Scion.”

“That’s
what they tell me.”

Connell
blinked, his giant, glass pupils dilating each time.  He kneeled in the dirt
and bowed, somewhat awkwardly considering his lanky build. 

I
threw my hands up.  “Come on, not you too.  I already get all that allegiance junk
from Cyrus.”

Connell
raised his head, and only then did I see he’d glamoured himself.  Now his
orange hair was more reddish, a far more human-like color.  His body filled out
so he wasn’t so lanky, and his wings were gone.  Those bizarre eyes were normal
now too, blue and…normal.

If I
hadn’t seen him before, I’d consider his form unquestionably attractive.  But I
was more concerned about why he’d hidden himself than classifying his looks. 

“Cyrus? 
Grayson’s aide?” he asked Rowan, avoiding looking at me.  The impression I got
wasn’t what I expected—I think he felt ashamed.

“Yes. 
We’ve been tasked with protecting the Scion,” Rowan offered, then added
something I hadn’t known.  “Actually, Grayson was.  And I owed him a favor.”

“You
should have told…”

“I
couldn’t, and you know it,” Rowan said.  He sounded amused. 

I
whistled, angry that they were ignoring me and talking literally around me like
I wasn’t there.  Pride I hadn’t had days ago bristled.

“Why
won’t you look at me now?” I asked Connell, leaning into his line of sight,
offended accusation heavy in the question. 

Then
I felt guilty, because my tone made the demon bow shakily, sharply again.

How
do I fix this?
 I asked Rowan.  Only
Rowan.  All it took was once, and I could control it.  Seemed preposterously
easy, but I wasn’t going to over think this time.  I’d take good fortune if I
could get it.

I
didn’t know he was standing so close behind me, so when Rowan whispered into my
ear, goosebumps broke out along my arms and my ears and neck heated.

“Compliment
his wings.”

Shaking
off the sensations Rowan’s words in my ear had created, I focused all my
attention on Connell.  Compliment his wings?  Cool.  I could do that and didn’t
even have to fake it.

“Can
I ask you a favor, Connell?”

The
Mischief demon bowed lower, as if that were possible, and I tried not to roll
my eyes for the fifth time. 

“Will
you take me on a flight?”  I hoped he wasn’t insulted by the idea, but my
interest was apparent in my voice.  The more I considered it, the more I wanted
it.  Flying in the arms of a male.  What female in her right mind wouldn’t want
that?

“I
don’t think—” Rowan began, but I waved him off.

“I
can’t fly with glamour.”  The mumble came so softly, I nearly missed it.

“Then
quit it.  I spent twenty years hidden behind glamour I had no control over.  I
say, if you have the choice, be who you are.”

My
sincerity must have shined through because as he rose his head from his bow,
then stood, the glamour slowly shimmered away.  Connell was back to his orange,
weird-eyed, gangly, winged self. 

“Mischief
demons aren’t allowed to be unglamoured around Royalty,” Rowan explained.

Shaking
my head, then stepping closer to Connell, I huffed, “Well really, that’s just
stupid.”

The
Mischief demon tried to hide his snicker.  I couldn’t help but glare at him.

“I
apologize.  I’m not sure how you wish me to be.”

Be
Connell,
I told him.  The full-caste
demon smiled.  He had no teeth.

A
strange moment passed, and I got the distinct impression I was being sized up
for a second time, only this time it had nothing to do with my looks. 

“Are
you comfortable holding onto me?”

“Wow,
thanks for asking.  When I first met him,” I thrust a thumb behind me where
Rowan still stood, “he tossed me over his shoulder like a caveman.  I mean, who
does that?”

Connell
looked over my head at Rowan, but I didn’t turn to see whatever expression was
on the Hammer’s face—though I was sure it was a glower.  I could feel waves of
aggression, possession, alpha male protectiveness seething from his direction.

When
Connell raised one of his bright orange eyebrows, I was so glad I wasn’t projecting
anymore because I was so frustratingly curious about Rowan’s reaction and
Connell’s interpretation of it, I would have been assured to project it before.

Stepping
up to Connell’s side, I threw my arms around his lanky neck—more skin to skin,
but it didn’t affect me like Rowan’s touch had—and grabbed my wrists.  My
willingness to touch him without hesitation startled him.  Made me wonder, and
dread to find out how Mischief demons were normally treated. 

After
a moment’s hesitation, the demon put one, impossibly long arm around my waist,
and without any warning, with an involuntary yelp from me, we were airborne.

I
think I heard Rowan say something, but the sound of his voice—or roar, I
couldn’t tell—was washed away by a rush of wind.

It
wasn’t a smooth ride.  And I had to be vigilant about keeping my skirt tucked
between my knees so I didn’t flash my panties.  The herky jerky movements of
flapping wings took me awhile to get used to, but Connell held onto my waist so
tightly, I knew I was safe.  I was surprised his fragile looking wings could
support my extra weight, but he dipped and dove with ease, as if there weren’t
a person clinging to him. 

His
bat-lizard wings were bigger than I first thought.  At full-span, they were
impressive.  And obviously powerful.

He
circled houses and waved to a group of unglamoured children playing kickball in
a park.  I’d never seen demon children before, especially not red, waxy-skinned
ones with tiny black horns and bright, piranha-teeth smiles.  I saw what had to
be Mischief demon kids playing with them too.  And I think I recognized a few
Razer females, though it was hard to tell.

After
a minute of hovering, Connell flew us away, though I could have watched those
children play all day.  As we skidded along the surface of a pond, my feet
brushed the water, soaking my rabbit fur socks and spraying cool drops across
my face.

Connell’s
shoulders tensed.  But when I continued to hold on, continued to grin like the
big, excited geek I was, he said nothing.  The next time, when he skimmed along
a field of wild flowers, some got caught in my hair and on my clothes and he
kept right on going without tensing at all. 

Each
time he dove, I gasped and squealed and tightened my grip around his neck.  It
seemed to encourage him.  By the time we landed, Connell was showing off, and I
was giggling uncontrollably, the state of my skirt forgotten.

“That. 
Was. 
Awesome
!”  I pouted, “do we have to stop?”

Connell
smiled a big, toothless smile, then said, like he thought it was hilarious,
“Rowe’s having a conniption.”

“How
do you know?” I looked around like Rowan would be stalking up behind me.  When
he wasn’t there, I had to wonder if Connell and Rowan could telepath.

“Good,”
the Mischief demon beamed with pride.  “I was afraid you felt the rock he
threw.  Or, rocks, technically.  But he only got me once.”

He
turned, and the gash in his shoulder was already healing, stitching together before
my eyes. 

I
gaped, putting my hand inches from the wound but not touching it in case it
still hurt.

“What’d
he do that for?”

“I
knew he didn’t approve.”  Connell tilted his head, then righted it.  The
gesture looked like the equivalent of a shrug to me.

“That
hypocrite.  He’s all alpha, protective male, then he throws rocks at us?  We
could have been seriously hurt.”

Connell
smiled, and it made me smile. 

But
I know you’d never let me fall.

The
demon blushed orange until his cheeks matched his hair.

When
he recovered from the bright blush, Connell rambled nervously.  “Funny the
things you choose to telepath.  Are you aware your internal voice has no
hesitation?  It’s sure, as if you’ve been Scion your entire life.”