Demon's Hunger (24 page)

She'd never walked around naked in her life. But right now it seemed right. Dain's love-making had left her feeling liberated, vital, so alive, attuned to every sensation.

She almost felt like
she
was powerful, a magical creature like him.

Smiling, she grabbed a container of ice cream, collected a spoon, scooped out a bit. The flavor burst on her tongue, banana and chocolate, and she closed her eyes. Oh, man, had anything
ever
tasted so good?

Yeah
…
Dain
.

The thought made her shiver. And he was there, just a few steps away, she could…

No. He needed to sleep.

With a smile, she turned, and stopped dead in her tracks. Next to the sink, the normally tidy countertop was covered in… stuff. Her curiosity piqued, she moved closer. A plastic tray sat in the sink, the cold water running into it in a steady stream, and in the tray were color photos. Her photos. From high school. Through the rippling water, Pat smiled up at her.

Her heart twisted in her chest.

Next to the sink, a glass cutting board was propped up on an overturned pot, damp photos arrayed side by side, draining. Lengths of paper towel were spread next to that, with more photos laid out, faceup. These were dry, the edges curled.

Tears pricked her eyes as she set aside the carton of ice cream, reached out, and traced the edge of a picture, her emotions raw and ragged. Dain had done this. He'd retrieved her photos. Cleaned them. Not by magic, but with his own hands. Oh, God. When? After they'd made love, while she slept. He had been here in the kitchen, doing this for her. Giving her back something she had thought gone forever.

For a time, she just walked slowly along the counter, looking at each photo, treasuring each memory.

She paused, staring at one picture in particular. Amy and her mom, sitting at a table in some cafe. Vivien remembered that day. It wasn't long after that Amy's mom got too sick to leave the house.

Amy. Suddenly, she ached to talk to her friend, to hear about the escapades she was having in Mexico. To laugh with her. To tell her about Dain.

Dain, who had sat in this kitchen for hours, cleaning and salvaging what photos he could. For her.

Her gaze slid to the phone, then to the wall clock. Too early to call Amy now, but soon. In the meantime, she'd collect her messages. Retrieving the container she had set aside, she wandered toward the phone, dipped a spoonful of ice cream, and licked it clean. Putting the container on the counter, she lifted the receiver, dialed her home number, and keyed in the code for her voice mail. She played her messages, forwarding to the next and the next.

Seven messages from her mother, back-to-back.

Shocked that her mother had called so many times, she felt a surge of guilt that she hadn't thought to check in with her again; usually Araminta wouldn't leave that many messages in the span of a year. And she hadn't sounded all that worried when they'd last spoken, so Vivien hadn't even thought to call.

With another glance at the clock, she decided it was definitely too early to call now. She'd give it at least another hour.

She listened to the next message. It was from Amy. Her voice was thick with tears, and she sounded desperate.

"Please, Vivien, if you pick this up, call me. It's about midnight now. Call me. I don't care how late it is or how early. Please, just call me. I need you."

A chill wafted over Vivien, raising the fine hairs at her nape. The only other time Amy had called sounding this distraught was when her mom had died.

She dialed Amy's cell.

"Vivien?" Amy's voice rose on a plea.

"What's wrong?"

"I need to see you. Please. I really need to talk to you. Can you meet me for a coffee?"

"Meet you? Aren't you in Mexico?"

"No." Amy choked on a sob. "Meet me. Please. The Second Cup at College and Euclid? Remember when we used to go there all the time?"

Vivien hesitated for an instant, a million thoughts zinging through her mind, the foremost being the question of safety. She needed to be there for Amy. She just needed to figure out the safest way to accomplish that.

Was she in danger if she left Dain's loft? More than once, he'd mentioned staying inside, staying safe. Abruptly, a sharp image of the demon in her basement formed, complete with gray cracked hide and row upon row of yellowed teeth.

Not something she'd like to meet while she was alone in a dark alley.

Ribbons of early morning light crawled across the blond hardwood floor. What could happen on a crowded street in full daylight?

Soft, snuffling sounds carried through the phone.

"Amy, come here for coffee"—wait, Dain didn't have coffee in the loft—"or, um, or tea. We could have tea."

Amy was sobbing in earnest now, hysterical little gasping chuffs that made Vivien feel like the lowest of the low.

"I—
huh, huh
—need to see you alone. Last night was—
huh
—Please, Vivien…"

How many times over the years had Amy been there for her, no questions asked? Every time Vivien had ever needed her. The only person in her life she'd been able to count on without question.

Vivien glanced at the window again. In all her life, she'd never heard of a demon attacking anyone on the streets of Toronto in broad daylight.

Actually, until two days ago, she'd never even heard of demons at all.

She shook her head. The truth was, she couldn't hide in Dain's loft forever. Danger or not, at some point she had to pick up the scattered and scorched bits of her life.

Wait… what had Amy said? I
need to see you alone
.

"Amy… How do you know I'm not alone?"

"I saw you," Amy whispered, the sound echoing hollowly across the phone line. "Yesterday. With that guy. You ditched Mexico, ditched
me
, for him, didn't you?"

Guilt ground through her. Well, that clinched it. She hadn't ditched Amy for Dain, hadn't even met Dain when she'd declined Amy's invitation. But she doubted her friend was in any frame of mind to talk this out logically. Whatever was eating Amy, it was
big
.

She was sobbing harder now, great, pained gasps that broke Vivien's heart.

"Amy, it's okay," she said. "I'll meet you. Half an hour, okay?"

"I'm sorry, Viv, I just… I just…"

"I'm on my way, Amy."

It wasn't until after she hung up that Vivien realized she had no money. Not for coffee, and not for a cab. She had the purse she'd grabbed when she'd fled her burning house, the one she'd shoved her dad's picture into. In it she'd found mascara, lip gloss, and some loose change, but her wallet, her credit cards, had been incinerated along with her house.

She considered waking Dain, but then he'd want to go with her, and she knew Amy didn't want an audience. Actually, she'd been pretty clear on that point. She'd sounded freaked out, hysterical.

More than that, she didn't have the heart to wake him. She could only imagine how many hours he'd spent cleaning and laying out her fire-damaged photos. After making love to her for hours. She needed to let him sleep.

Chewing her lip, Vivien considered her options. She'd have to walk. The coffee shop they'd decided on really wasn't all that far, and she could take main roads. Plenty of people would be out and about at this time, on their way to work or school.

Surely no demon would nab her in public.

With a snort, she realized she was getting paranoid.

"We're talking a cup of coffee with my best friend in the full light of day," she muttered. "Not a meeting in a warehouse in the dead of night."

Rummaging through a series of drawers, she finally found a pen and some paper. She left Dain a note on the kitchen counter and headed for the living room to gather up the clothes he'd conjured for her the previous afternoon. A quick shower in the guest bathroom and Vivien was dressed and ready to go.

She found Dain's shearling coat in the front closet and his key ring in the pocket, but there was no sign of the cashmere coat he had conjured for her the previous day. She frowned, wondering where it had gone.

Perhaps they had left it at Javier's.

Pulling Dain's coat from the hanger, she slipped it on, pausing for a second just to savor the feel of it, the weight of it on her shoulders. At the front door, she tried the various keys until she found the one that fit, then stole into the hallway, locking the door behind her.

The hallway was brightly lit. Still, she paused, looked around, alert for danger. A snort escaped her. She felt like some kind of international spy.

In a coat that was ten sizes too big.

Turning her face into the collar, she inhaled deeply. It smelled like Dain. She felt a stirring in her blood, hot and thick, a dark craving, a
need
to go back into the loft, back to Dain's bed, climb in beside him, touch his smooth, hard body. Kiss his sexy, sexy mouth.

Hungry
, she thought. I'm
hungry for him
.

Closing her eyes, she pictured herself, up on all fours, Dain naked behind her, driving into her. Oh, God.

In a matter of days, she'd gone from believing she was experiencing a psychotic break to having a fullblown case of nymphomania.

This was turning out to be one hell of a week.

"What is it with the early morning roll call?" Javier snarled, sliding into the booth across from Darqun. "And why would you pick this place? It smells like, I dunno, burnt toast and moldy newspaper."

"An appetizing combination." Darqun looked around at the gloomy booths, the dented counter, the layer of dust on the photographs that lined the walls. Abe's Eats. The place had grown on him.

The waitress shambled over now, topped off his coffee, and filled a cup for Javier. Friendly as ever, she slapped down a menu and narrowed her eyes at him, fuzzy wisps of her white hair falling in her eyes.

"You've been here three mornings in a row," she said, more accusation than observation, then turned and headed back to the counter without waiting for his reply.

"Why are we here?" Javier sniffed his cup suspiciously.

"Two reasons," Darqun replied. "First, I like the coffee. A good cup of coffee is worth its weight in gold."

Javier narrowed his eyes and shook his head quickly, his brow furrowed. "You're here for the
coffee
? There's a Starbucks up the street." He lifted his cup, took a tentative sip, grimaced. "Jesus. So what's the second reason?"

"I could tell you it's because Abe and Ida have owned this place for fifty years. They're barely scraping out a living now. I figure it's my good deed of the day to slap down some cash here."

Javier glanced over as Ida slammed a plate laden with greasy eggs, bacon, and sausage in front of the only other patron in the entire place, then he looked back at Darqun, clearly appalled. "So slap down some cash and let's go eat somewhere else. Somewhere with fewer dead animal parts on plates."

"No can do, my man. I said I
could
tell you it was because I wanted to drop some cash for Abe and Ida. Actually, they're going to win a hundred grand today in some draw they don't even remember buying a ticket for. So they're set."

"Would that draw have anything to do with you?"

Darqun shrugged. "I dreamed about this place and about the intern I met here. For some reason, I came back yesterday, got to talking with Ida"—he jutted his chin at the waitress—"and it just felt right. Two mortals spend their whole lives working and they don't get any rest, not even in their twilight years…"

"Yeah, you sound like a greeting card," Javier said, but Darqun knew he understood.

Technically, by helping out these two old people, he was breaking the
Pact
. But since his interference didn't affect life-or-death matters, he could get away with it.

He preferred to see it as skirting the rules, maybe nudging and bending rather than breaking them.

The diner's door swung open, letting in a blast of cold air along with a blond guy with a laid-back walk that camouflaged his underlying edge.

"And here comes reason number two," Darqun said.

Javier's head swivelled and he exhaled harshly as he spotted the new arrival.

"Well, fuck me," he said.

"No thanks, Jav." Baunn gave a tight smile that barely curved his lips and definitely didn't reach his eyes. He nodded at Darqun. "But shove over and I'll join you for breakfast." The smile turned dark as he tossed a small red velvet bag on the table. "You ever hear the one about the sorcerer and the succubus… ?"

Head down, Vivien stepped out the front door of Dain's building into the biting wind. Holding the collar of his coat close about her face, she made it about ten steps before realizing this was a lousy plan. She stopped dead, recalling again the terrifying monster that Dain had battled in her basement.

What in heaven's name was she thinking, blithely heading out on her own? It hit her then, a cold, sharp slap of truth that was ugly in its glaring blatancy. This wasn't about letting Dain sleep. It wasn't about being independent and picking up the charred remnants of her life.

This was about being a coward.

By leaving the loft and putting her life at risk, she was putting up emotional roadblocks, running out on Dain before he had the chance to run out on her.

God, she was so screwed up.

She needed to go back upstairs and wake him, because any other path was sheer idiocy.

Turning, she took a step but slammed into something hard.

The breath whooshed from her lungs. Adrenaline surged and on instinct she brought her knee up, hard.

"Jesus." The guttural rasp was accompanied by deflecting hands shoving her knee out of the danger zone.

She stumbled, fought for balance, and her head jerked back as a hand caught her arm, steadying her. "Oh, my God, Dain!"

His mouth was drawn in a grim line. He stared down at her, the dark stubble on his jaw and the shadows beneath his eyes making him look very dangerous, and a little frightening.

Like he'd been pushing the limit and had gone way past the safety zone.

Desire jolted her as she stared up at him, and she thought she'd like to push him further, not just past the safety zone, but right into screaming redline.

She
craved
the danger in him.

Oh, that was one hell of a revelation to have standing out here on the frozen sidewalk.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, his voice smoky and morning-rough. And mightily pissed off.

He crossed his arms over his broad chest, and in that second, she realized he was wearing next to nothing. No shoes. No shirt. No coat. Just a pair of black boxers riding very low on his hips.

Vivien caught the tip of her tongue between her teeth as a sharp sliver of awareness arrowed through her, chased by a strong dose of incredulity.

"Are you crazy?" she gasped. "It's freezing out here. Get inside where it's warm."

"I didn't take the time to dress. Where are you running off to?" There was an edge to the question, one that made her feel odd. A little guilty.

What was it with her and guilt today?

First Amy, now Dain. She had issues with people running out on her, and here she was angsting over running out on them.

She needed therapy.

Blowing out a quick breath, she shook her head. "I left you a note."

He stepped closer, dropping his arms to his sides, and she could feel the heat of him despite the swirling wind. Magic? Was he using magic to stay warm? She supposed he must be. Using it, too, to cloak them from view, because several people had walked past them, and no one had so much as glanced at the six-feet-three nearly naked, glowering male.

Reaching out, Dain rubbed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip, anger glinting in his eyes. But still his touch was gentle. She shivered, acutely aware of him, his touch igniting her as she recalled all the things they'd done last night, the images bright and clear in her mind.

He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Every thought, every emotion, was etched in his expression. The worry, the frustration, the wary concern.

"I was coming back to get you," she whispered.

"Were you?" he asked, his tone dark and tense.

His expression taut, he slid his thumb along her cheek, her jaw, until his fingers curled around the back of her neck. She shivered, remembering how he'd held her like that when he'd kissed her, raw and rough and hungry.

Okay. Breathe. She needed to breathe, because he made her light-headed.

"I don't leave your side, Vivien," he rasped. "Where you go, I go."

Her pulse sped up. She realized that she ought to be annoyed that he had followed her, ought to be irritated by his proprietary words and actions. But she wasn't. She was oddly touched that he wanted to keep watch over her and keep her safe.

Besides, she'd been on her way back to get him, so she couldn't be angry that he'd beat her to it.

Whatever he read in her eyes, it drew a tight smile. He closed his strong fingers around her wrist, dragged her against him, the power of him swirling around her, leaving her breathless and dizzy. A sharp twist of desire made the pit of her belly do a slow drop.

The air hummed and buzzed, the stimulating sensation touching her skin, sliding into her, like radio static made palpable. Warmth and light surrounded her, an undulating current.

With a low sound, Dain brought his mouth down hard on hers, one hand spread flat against her back, the other pressing against her buttocks.

Oh, sweet Lord.

Heat and need rushed through her body like a flash fire, the crackle of electricity ramping up, scorching her. Smoldering hunger consumed her, and it took everything she had to drag herself away.

She felt like she was
addicted
to him.

Her gaze ran the length of his leanly muscled body.
Whoo
, She supposed there were worse things in life.

"Dain, I have to go," she said, not even trying to conceal her regret. "I said I would meet someone. I take my commitments seriously."

"As do I." His voice was a rich, low rumble, sliding through to her core, carrying shades of meaning she knew she couldn't hope to understand.

He stared at her for a long moment, his expression inscrutable, and then he said, "I woke up and you weren't there, and all I could think of was you and those
hybrids
and—" His lips compressed in a thin line.

His tone was barren, edged with tension, touching something in her soul.

Vivien looked away. She couldn't deal with this, not here, not now when Amy was waiting. She had to go. She slipped into science-girl mode, protecting herself with queries.

"
Hybrids
? What
hybrids
?" She recognized the word; they'd explained demons and
hybrids
to her that first morning in Dain's loft. But she had no idea what he was talking about.

At that moment, the sun caught on the side mirror of a passing car, reflecting back in a bright burst, and suddenly, flashes of memory spun through her.
Dust and screams and the scent of rotting wood. Soulless eyes, vacant black marbles without mercy or remorse. Glowing blades and a single beam of sunlight Blood. Dain's blood
—

She jerked back, her gaze raking over him, relief surging as she found unmarked skin.

Uneasiness sluiced through her. She couldn't do this now. It was too confusing, too intense. There were so many questions. About him. About herself.

And she had the feeling that it was going to take a very long time to figure out the answers.

"We need to talk," she said, and couldn't help but smile as wariness tinged his gaze. Typical guy. "But not now. Right now, I need to be somewhere else."

Everything in its proper file folder, to be taken out and examined at the appropriate time.
That
was the way she did things.

And the folder she was working on right now belonged to Amy.

"I need to go," she said, then blew out a breath. "In my whole life, there's only one person I could ever count on besides myself, one person who never ran out on me. And right now, she's asking me to be there for her. So I need to go."

Dain made a smooth gesture with his hand, and then he stood before her fully dressed—a light brown T-shirt with a multicolored key ring stenciled on the front, dark blue jeans, a navy pea coat. But his expression was tight and pinched, as though he was in pain.

"Where you go, I go," he said again, implacable, his eyes narrowed and mercury-bright, framed by his thick, dark lashes. "I need you safe, Vivien. I just"—he raked his hands through the shaggy, sexy layers of his dark hair—"need you safe."

She thought of the story he'd told her about his wife and daughter, and her heart twisted. She swallowed against the lump growing in her throat.

God, she wasn't the only one who was messed up.

"Fine." Vivien shrugged, as though it didn't matter, as though her heart wasn't breaking for him because she'd figured out that this whole macho-man-take-care-of-woman thing was about what had happened in his past. As though she wasn't secretly, fiercely pleased that he wanted to keep her safe. Because it meant he cared about her. Just like staying up all night restoring her photos meant he cared about her. It meant—

Oh, no, she wasn't going there, wasn't floating away on fluffy dreams and hopes. He loomed over her, waiting.

She forced a smile. "It's too cold to walk, anyway."

Turning, she headed toward the yellow Ferrari, but he caught her arm, stopping her, and opened the door to a black Porsche Boxter.

"This one. It draws less attention."

She blinked and bit back a laugh as she realized he was serious.

"Where to?" he asked.

"The Second Cup on College and Euclid." With a shake of her head, Vivien got in the car.

Dain shut the door before rounding the hood.

She studied him through the windshield. With the dark stubble along his jaw and his hair a shaggy mess, he looked a little unkempt, bed-rumpled, and a whole lot sexy.

He glanced at her, and a pang of dismay wrenched her heart. With the sun full on his face, he looked utterly exhausted. Drained.

And he definitely
didn't
look happy.