Unearthed (25 page)

Rhyse let go of him. “You cannot possibly be offended, demon. You said you had done the unimaginable. What else could I take that to mean?”

“There are a shitload of things I didn’t want to imagine happening. And a few of them happened. Horrible, unimaginable things. You got out of it, right? You and the vitae
were
and then you weren’t. So…how do you do that?”

“My situation may seem like yours, but I assure you, it was not.”

Davyn nodded slowly. “I held her fucking hand, vamp. I held her
hand
. What the fuck is that? I’ve never held anyone’s hand, not ever. I did it without thinking. I was standing there, and then her hand was in mine. Twice.” He held his palm above the fire, increasing the height of the flames so they reached him, as if it could burn her out of him. “And I kissed her. A seer. A
rogue
seer. More than once. You know how demons are about kissing, right? We don’t do a lot of it. But I did it with her, and I liked it, and I’m pretty sure I would do it again if given the chance.”

He took a breath, feeling a new and unpleasant heat he knew was embarrassment. “What the fuck is wrong with me? Evidently, I want to spend my eternity hanging out with the big man in Nine because there’s no other reason for any of this to be happening. Have you ever heard of that? A demon doing human things with the hands and the—Ugh.” He rubbed both hands over his face. “I’m getting nauseous just thinking about it.”

Rhyse was stoic, like normal, while Davyn had a meltdown. Melt up, actually, the fire growing as Davyn’s agitation did. It felt good though, comfortable and, unlike everything else, he wouldn’t let it get out of hand. Fire was the one thing he had total control over.

“Come on, vamp. You owe me. Maybe you didn’t mean to, but you probably said something to the big guy to make Him fuck with me like this. Because He’s the only one who would find this remotely funny. So tell me what I can do to stop”—
feeling
—“acting this way. Tell me what you did, ’cause I know there was some messed-up, not-smart activity going on between you and the vitae.”

Hopefully Rhyse wouldn’t tell him the only way to stop it was to kill her.

“She left me.”

“Wait, what?” Davyn spun around to face the vamp.

The dat vitae left the Prime of the North American zone. He hadn’t killed her like Davyn thought he had. The rumors were right—the vitae was still alive, fighting the man. The man who just happened to be the vamp she’d been fucking. Who’d had some serious feelings for her. Damn, Rhyse’s shit was almost as messed up as Davyn’s.

“I do not know how to advise you because she left me,” the vamp said. “It was not my doing nor was it mutual.” Nor were any of his feelings gone, if the slump of his shoulders meant anything.

“Yeah, well…that’s no fucking help.”

“Then we agree—I cannot help you. All I can tell you to do is keep your cock to yourself and back off Lamere like you were supposed to. How much longer do you have of this tour?”

“A couple weeks.”

“Then keep your cock to yourself for a couple weeks. For her sake and for yours.”

“That is the shittiest advice ever. I could’ve come up with that on my own.”

“Instead you came here, hoping I would solve a dilemma you put yourself in by not doing what I told you to do the first time.” He sighed and picked up his pen, a signal Davyn was supposed to leave. But the demon wasn’t going to do what Rhyse told him to do
this
time, either.

“I like her. Enough to not want her hurt.”

“When your tour is over, so too is your dilemma and all your emotions. Some might consider you lucky.”

Lucky? When he came back, the emotions wouldn’t be gone, they’d be twisted—still as strong but much less pleasant for whoever they were directed towards. Her.

The Prime didn’t know about it. Demons weren’t the type to sit around the campfire telling stories, but Rhyse was in charge of the zone and knew almost everything about every race. His job was to keep them all in check. But this little bit of demon lore had been missed or kept hidden.

Although, nothing like this had happened since long before the Treaty, when the races didn’t do much more than kill each other. Back then, demons didn’t mingle much and even if they did, even if any of them ever had a weakness like Davyn had for the hunter, no one would’ve been surprised when the human ended up dead. So why would the other races know what happened to anyone who got too close to a demon at the end of his tour?

“I will see what I can do to keep the two of you separate,” Rhyse said. “But otherwise, there is nothing I can do. You will just have to wait until your tour ends.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks so much for your help.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After Davyn left, Rhyse stared at the wall for a while. Then he laughed for an unknown reason and an unknown amount of time. Discovering another male who felt as confused as Rhyse had—as Rhyse
was
—took enough weight off his chest to allow him breath again. Not being with Addison brought far more weight, but this was…a relief.

The demon was so many things Rhyse could not allow himself to be—expressive, emotional, volatile. As Prime and king of the vampires, to show these things would make him appear weak in the eyes of his people and his enemies. Now more than ever before, he could not afford to look weak.

He felt for Davyn, didn’t want this for him, by any means, but Rhyse wasn’t worried. They’d known each other for a very long time. Even in the early years of the demon’s tours, he was smart enough not to break the law. In his later years, it wouldn’t happen for a number of other reasons.

Over the centuries, Rhyse had occasionally wondered why Davyn, more than any other demon he’d ever met, absorbed so much humanity in his time on earth, and whether that was his greatest weakness or his greatest strength. In two weeks it wouldn’t matter—Davyn would end this tour and begin the next. He would forget all about the hunter, forget he had ever felt something for her or wanted to be with her.

Was that fortunate or horrible—to completely forget the one you shouldn’t love but did? In this, Rhyse was better off than Davyn. He would never want to forget. His only good memories were those he’d made with, and because of, Addison.

“Hey, boss.” Logan knocked on the door before sticking his head into the room. “I could’ve sworn I heard laughter in here, but it’s just you, right?”

“Is it that impossible to believe I am able to laugh?”

“Yeah,” the seer said, brow furrowed. “It is.”

Keira shoved thoughts about the trip to San Diego out of her mind, but they kept coming back—the taste of him, his hand on her thigh, and the low purr of his voice as he teased her.

She wanted more. Yep, as idiotic as it was, she wanted more. And he was giving it all to some random female demon right now and would be until noon.

Lucky bitch. Ugh, really?
She went into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror.

“You are an idiot.” A seer and a demon wasn’t smart or possible, so playing around with the idea got her nowhere other than onto the Desperate Train all the way to Big-Lapse-in-Judgment-and-Minimal-Standards-Ville.

Last night she’d gone out—which explained the bags under her eyes—hoping to find someone to release some sexual frustration on. It wasn’t as if a horny, available man was a rarity, and a bunch of them had been attractive but, even as hyped up and needy as she was, none of them did anything for her. So after about an hour of trying to find something even marginally appealing about any of them, she’d given up. She went home alone and spent the rest of the night wondering what the demon was doing. Not that it took long to figure out. He was boinking some female’s brains out. A female he
wanted
. And could have.

“You idiotic idiot.” Was she really going to stand here until noon, pining away for someone whose sole reason for wanting her was that he couldn’t have her? Even if he could, there was nothing behind his desire, certainly no emotion. “What’d you expect?” One night of lust that led to a relationship of mutual respect and feeling? “Oh crap.” How embarrassing that it had even gone through her mind as a negative, because it meant the idea had actually occurred to her.

“Calm down, and stop talking to yourself.” She was a hunter. There was no future in her future. All she did was try not to get killed for as long as possible. Even without Lamere, this job was too dangerous to imagine doing it for long. She’d never look in the mirror and see wrinkles or gray hair. No kids, no house in the ’burbs. She couldn’t even have a pet, not with moving as often as she did.

Fate had dealt her a losing hand and had laid them all out in front of her on the night Lamere took her.

And too much hate and anger makes Jane a raving bitch.

She was the proud owner of a pretty pathetic sex life, too—lights off, her on top, the guy’s hands pinned to the mattress, so he couldn’t see or feel her scars and so she wouldn’t see the disgust on his face. That was the only time she felt ashamed of them. The rest of the time they gave her courage, strength, reminded her what she was meant to do. Practice. Every super she killed, for the Rising or not, was practice. Rehearsal. So when she stood in front of Lamere, she wouldn’t balk. Destruction would be so natural to her that his would be clean and she could enjoy it. Killing the bastard who deserved to die a hundred deaths.

If she were smart, she’d kill Davyn too. Or at least send him back to hell. Maybe it would be a good idea to keep him in a binding circle until this job was done. Then he would go on his less-than-merry way, and she’d forget all about him. Except, of course, while falling asleep or on an airplane or in a hospital or with a man or eating a sandwich.

“Shit-shit-shit!” As unfortunate as it was, she needed his help. It would be a pretty awful realization to have if Lamere ever did get his fangs in her neck again. ‘Gee. Maybe I should have brought along backup. Like, say, the huge, gorgeous guy who cannot die, even though he’s really distracting and somewhat annoying.’

After a quick cold shower that did absolutely nothing to quell any of her thoughts or desires, she waited. And waited. And then waited some more. Past noon. Then three o’clock.

“Bastard.” He must be having so much fun with his demon fuck that he’d forgotten all about Keira. And the job they were doing. Since the house was no longer a secret, Lamere wouldn’t go back, at least not this soon. Keira could look around and see if he’d left anything behind, all before the sun went down. Maybe have a chance to be alone in the place out of her nightmares.

Unable to sit still anymore, she packed up all the weapons she could carry. If she left now, she’d have a few more hours of daylight left. The demon would have to catch up.

“Screw him.”
No, actually someone’s already doing that.
 Which was why he was so damn late.

The drive felt faster than it could’ve possibly been. Just like going home—probably because it kind of was, or as close to it as she’d ever get again. Plus, she spent the whole trip cursing Davyn. By the time he finally decided to put on his pants and do what he was supposed to, she might already be there. If he was the tracker he claimed to be, he’d find her on the road or phase all the way there in seconds.

She took the back way into her neighborhood to avoid her house—no, her
old
house—as much as possible, and slowing the car when she got to her old dungeon.

The demon wasn’t standing in the middle of Lamere’s yard waving. He was probably having a little trouble with his pants, like, say, keeping his dick in them.

Keira hadn’t stayed alive this long by taking unnecessary risks or being impulsive. She tossed her jacket in the car—limited movement was a great way to ensure you were the one who ended up dead in a fight with a vampire. Plus, she liked that jacket and didn’t want it to get messed up.

She pulled two stakes out of the pack in the trunk. Thanks to sufferers of Seasonal Affective Disorder, and people with a hankering for skin cancer, she’d been able to buy a portable UV lamp off the shelf at a home store. She left the trunk open—easy access to more gear—and the keys under the front seat. A lesson she’d learned the expensive way. Not because she’d been in danger but because, while running and fighting, things fall out of pockets pretty easily. So after she’d killed the vamp, she’d had to wait for a locksmith. Yeah, that was a badass moment—coming up with a plausible story as to why she looked like she’d just been gang mugged. She’d gone with: You should see the other guy. The locksmith had laughed. She’d glanced back at the pile of dust.

Since then, nothing other than stakes went in her pockets, and she’d learned how to hot-wire a car. Good skill for the girl who wants to keep breathing.

Keira jumped the fence, the magical pulse easier to take the second time, stayed on the grass to cover the sound of her approach, and listened through the door. Nothing. She had good hearing, but that wasn’t enough.

Lamere didn’t sleep much and probably hated being stuck at home even more than Keira did. While he’d kept her prisoner, he’d never stayed for more than a day, maybe two. Unfortunately, he never stayed
away
for much longer than that, either.

The knob turned and opened silently, letting in the light about six feet.

“Hello? Anyone home?” she called out, knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist her taunting and would show himself if he was here. “Fire up the grill, ’cause I brought stakes.”

She let out a breath and then took a bigger one before stepping inside. Since Lamere loved natural light—moon and indirect sun—he hadn’t blacked out all the windows. Keira followed the patches of sunlight, moving from one to another quickly like a kid pretending certain sections of a floor were lava.

The door to the basement stood wide open. With a weapon in either hand, she focused on locating power signatures. Nothing. She didn’t sense anything human or supernatural, so she had no need to go downstairs. Should she turn around and look in the other parts of the house or be honest with herself and admit that she had
every
need to go downstairs? To face the truth of what had happened to her? It was different being here alone, harder, even though she’d never tell Davyn that.