Pleasure Unbound

Chapter 7

Eidolon couldn’t decide whether Tayla had caved in too easily to his request to take her home. He hadn’t smelled deception on her, but then, his olfactory senses were designed more to pick up on the scent of lust than anything else.

And lust was something that rippled off her in subtle undercurrents, often when she was in the middle of hating him. Or when she was beneath him.

Welcome to my world, slayer.

His own desire pumped through him as he glanced sideways at her in the passenger seat of his BMW. He’d have been attracted to her anyway, but the s’genesis was jerking him around, was making the right side of his face throb, just below the surface of his skin, where the marking would appear when the change was complete. The marking that would identify him to the entire demon world as a menace to all things female, and a threat to all things male.

The Change was coming on fast, and he only hoped his experimental treatment would hold off the worst of the effects, or at least make the transition less dangerous and painful. With any luck, he’d find a mate and wouldn’t have to worry about any of it. Then again, he wasn’t likely to find a mate if he filled his days with hospital work instead of courting females.

Not that he hadn’t tried. But few females were willing to commit to a lifetime with a Seminus, knowing the only way out of the bond was death. The females who were willing left Eidolon thinking that whatever the s’genesis did to him would be preferable to a life sentence with them. Then again, he didn’t have much choice.

He was running out of time, and he had no way of knowing if his treatment would delay the transition long enough to allow him to find a worthy female. He needed to act now. Preferably, the moment he dropped off Tayla.

“Out of curiosity,” she said, shifting her focus from the police car ahead of them to him, “why did you kill the vampire? Why not take her to your hospital?”

Fury blasted through him once more, and he had to take three long, deep breaths to keep from lashing out at Tayla. “Most of her circulatory system had been removed. I couldn’t save her.” He rubbed his chest as though doing so would relieve the ache there, the one that was starting to grow as his losses piled up.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth, the action tamping down the embers of his anger and sparking a different fire. “I don’t get it. Vamps are dead. Undead. Whatever. Why do they need a circulatory system?”

He didn’t want to talk about Nancy, but talking kept him from thinking. Or feeling. “The transformation from human to vampire alters their internal makeup. The stomach takes over for the heart when it stops beating. New arteries and veins carry ingested blood throughout the body. Without those veins, a vampire will die as surely as it will when a slayer jams a stake into its chest. It just takes longer.”

“Why would someone do that?” she asked, her curiosity genuine as far as he could tell, and damn her, he was starting to think she didn’t know anything about the killings.

“Vampire circulatory systems must be worth something on the black market, for use in spells or rituals or some crap.” And the person doing the cutting enjoyed misery, because he or she could have spared Nancy by killing her once her organs had been removed.

“So she fingered The Aegis for what happened to her? Is that what she was saying to you before you—”

“Yes.”

Tayla shook her head. “It’s not us. It’s not The Aegis. Our job is to protect humans, not give evil more weapons by selling potentially useful body parts.” When he said nothing, she stared at him with such intensity that he damn near squirmed in his seat. And he never squirmed.

“What?” he snapped.

“What did you call her? You know, before you…”

“lirsha.” He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “Loosely translates to lover.”

There was a slight pause before she said, “She was your lover?”

“Not mine. Shade’s.” But she’d been at UG almost since the beginning, and he’d always liked the quirky nurse. Shade’s sister, Skulk, had once said that Nancy’s aura burned bright, more colorful than that of other vampires, which hadn’t been a shock. He’d never seen the nurse in a bad mood.

Wrapping her arms around herself as though cold, Tayla braced her shoulder against the window. “Turn here and park anywhere.”

He looked around the area in disgust. He hadn’t been sure what to expect from the slayer’s neighborhood, but the ghetto wasn’t it. Not even the cheery April sunlight could put a shine on the graffiti-tagged, run-down character of the neighborhood.

“You won’t want to leave your car for more than thirty seconds, or it’ll be stripped or ripped.”

“It’ll be fine.” He parked between a furniture truck and a lowered pickup riddled with bullet holes, and they got out of the car.

When Tayla glanced hesitantly at the vehicle and then back at him, he shook his head. “Trust me. People will walk by like they don’t even see it.” The BMW wouldn’t literally be invisible, but the Deflection spell that came standard on demon-dealer autos meant his BMW didn’t attract human attention. They’d see it, but it would register only in their subconscious.

“Whatever. Your loss. My keys are at HQ, so I hope the super is around.”

She led him to a building roaches wouldn’t call home, and after picking up a key at the office, they climbed two flights of rickety stairs. When she opened her door, she swore.

“Mickey!”

Eidolon stepped inside the apartment, not bothering to hide his shock. The place was a dump. Not filthy—Tayla obviously cleaned—but she didn’t have a lot to work with. The ceiling, stained by generations of water leaks and mold, bowed as though on the verge of collapse. Gray paint peeled like shredded skin from the walls, and holes the size of his foot pockmarked the vinyl flooring.

And scattered throughout were bits of foam that had once belonged inside one of the cushions on the orange seventies-style sofa.

“What happened?”

“Mickey. My ferret.”

“You have a pet weasel?” Said weasel poked its brown head out of the ragged hole in the cushion.

“He’s a ferret.” She moved into the kitchen, which could barely be called such. The fridge, more rust than metal, rattled like it was on its dying breath, and if the ancient stove worked, he’d sell one of his brothers into Neethul slavery. He might do that with Wraith, anyway.

Maybe The Aegis wasn’t involved in the demon organ ring, after all. If they were, they could afford to pay their people more.

“He must be starving,” she said, pouring what he assumed was weasel food into a plastic margarine container. “How long was I in the hospital?”

“Three days.”

“My poor baby.” Her voice was a soothing croon but it did the opposite to him, and when she bent to place the bowl on the floor, he watched the way the scrub pants molded to her rounded ass. His mind fuzzed out, and he realized he’d taken three steps toward her. The way she stroked the weasel’s narrow head, yeah, if she’d touch him the way she was touching the little animal…

Shit. He halted in his tracks, feeling flushed and hot and way too short-fused to be anywhere near any female, let alone a female like Tayla.

The weasel tackled the bowl, flinging pellets everywhere. Tayla straightened and turned, a smile curving her full lips that he was suddenly picturing on his.

He had to get out of there.

She dug an orange out of a bag on top of the stove, which was pretty much her only counter space, and then grabbed a bag of marshmallows from one of the two cupboards.

“Three days that felt like three years.” She bit into a marshmallow and watched him, her gaze secretive, and he wondered what was going on in that pretty head.

He knew what was going on in his, and she’d probably kill him for it.

“Look, I have to go. If you need anything—”

“Like what?”

Like, for instance, help when you grow horns and scales as your demon DNA kicks in.

“Your wound. The stitches will need to be removed.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

“I’d like to follow up with you.” He drew a card from his pocket and placed it on the TV tray that must serve as her kitchen table. “Here’s the hospital phone number. Say the words on the back before you dial.”

“An underworld communications system?”

“Something like that.”

“Are you this dedicated to all your patients? Or am I special?”

“Both.”

Under normal circumstances, he couldn’t have cared less if a human lived or died. But the half-demon mating-gone-wrong thing fascinated him, and the Aegi issue guaranteed that he wasn’t going to let her go that easily.

Then there was the fact that just looking at her made his blood run hotter than his normal body temperature of one-oh-nine.

Gods, she was thin, but as hard and sleek as a Trillah demon, but he knew firsthand how soft and pliant she could go beneath his touch. Knew how her slim hips could take his thrusts, how her long legs wrapped around him to hold him deep.

And her scent…damn. Her scent, deceptively appealing, the way cyanide smelled like sweet almonds, drove him mad.

He burned. He ached. He had to get back on track and fast, because he needed to find a mate before it was too late, and every second spent with Tayla was a second wasted.

“I have to go,” he repeated, but his feet didn’t move, because she was striding toward him.

He gazed at her, at the blood smears still darkening her cheek, at the smooth, tight skin everywhere else, and his own skin tightened and shrank as if it no longer fit.

“Thank you for saving my life.” She halted a foot away, close enough to smell the marshmallow on her breath. “But don’t think this changes anything.”

“Everything has changed, Tayla,” he said softly, reaching for her. He put two fingers to her throat, told himself he was probing for any signs of illness, fever, progression of her DNA transformation. Told himself whatever lies he had to in order to pretend he wasn’t touching her for the sheer pleasure of it.

“I hate it when you put your hands on me,” she whispered, but the way her pulse ticked violently beneath his fingers betrayed her.

He breathed deep, seeking her scent like a hellhound on the track of a hellbitch in heat. He slid his thumb down along her clavicle. Fragile. Delicate. He could break the bone with a flick of his wrist.

Or he could run his tongue over the silky skin there. It was insane the way he wanted her, the way his body sought the thrill of something as forbidden and dangerous as an Aegi killer. The instinct was so strong that images of the ways he’d take her swamped his brain, short-circuiting his control.

Against the wall… in a hot shower… bound and helpless, laid out like a sacrifice…

His gaze snapped up, caught hers. His temperature spiked and his thoughts hemorrhaged, bleeding out until there was only primal instinct to guide his actions.

He licked his lips. The knowledge of what he was about to do made her jaw drop as he dipped his head and slanted his mouth over hers. For a moment she stiffened, and then, oh, yeah, she caught his waist in one hand and melted against him.

Sticky, marshmallow sweetness coated his tongue as it sparred with hers. The soft recess of her mouth drew him deep, made him want to spend all day enjoying the wet, hot kiss. But his body wanted more, and he could find better uses for his tongue.

He tangled his hand in her thick hair, holding her firmly as he dropped his other hand to her ass to press her against his aching sex.

The subtle tightening of her body was his only warning.

A flash of silver arced near the extreme border of his vision, and the sting of metal bit into his throat. Hissing, he wrenched Tayla’s wrist and grabbed the knife.

“Son of a—” She bit off the curse and spun out of his grip.

There was nothing wrong with her reflexes, and she proved there was nothing wrong with her speed either, as she bolted toward a closed door. He dived, hit her as she reached for the handle, and they both tumbled through the bedroom doorway. She landed awkwardly, half on, half off the bed, and he came down on top of her.

“Remind me not to save your life again, if that’s how you repay small favors,” he growled.

“I don’t need you to save my life.” She clocked him in the jaw hard enough to make his teeth crack together. “And FYI? I wasn’t going to kill you.”

In one smooth move, he pinned both of her wrists with one hand, forcing her to buck beneath his weight. Which, of course, gave him a hard-on. He could blame the s’genesis, could blame the fact that he was an incubus. Could blame those things, and would, because the idea that Tayla herself could jumpstart him like a defibrillator was unacceptable.

“No? Was this your idea of foreplay?” He held the knife in front of her face, and though her eyes flared wide, she looked more curious than afraid as he brought it down to the collar of the scrub top. “Because I’m into this kind of sex toy. It’s a demon thing.”

“I know what you are,” she ground out, and he might have believed she was as pissed as she sounded, if it weren’t for the way she’d angled her pelvis to meet his erection.

“What were you going to do with the knife, little killer?” He drew the dull reverse edge along the skin just above her collar, leaving a trailing white line. Still, she didn’t look afraid, didn’t smell of fear. That turned him on as much as the fact that if she wanted to, if she really wanted to, she could kill him. Any doubt about that had been squashed during the battle with the Nightlashes.

“I was going to cut off your clothes.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” He slid the blade beneath the fabric.

A flick of his wrist sliced the scrub top down to her breasts, and her breath hitched, but she didn’t protest. He didn’t have Shade’s powers, couldn’t measure her internal systemic responses. But he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the dilating pupils, the flushed skin. He could feel the pounding thud of her pulse in her wrist and could hear the thump of her heart as it raced. She could deny her arousal all she wanted, but her body spoke the truth.

Clenching the knife hilt between his teeth, he hauled her onto her bed, which was nothing more than a twin-sized mattress and twisted sheets on a metal frame. Using his weight, he imprisoned her beneath him, his long legs trapping hers between them.

“Bastard.”

Lightning fast, she escaped his grip and landed a blow to his cheek, but her strike lacked the strength and conviction he knew she was capable of. Adrenaline surged in his veins, hot, potent, the line between battle lust and sexual lust blurred. A cry escaped her as he flipped her onto her belly and straddled her thighs. He held her down with one hand pressed between her shoulder blades and took the knife from between his teeth with the other.

“What’s the matter, Tayla?” He slashed through the length of the top. “Are you going to tell me you don’t want this?”

“I hate you,” she snarled into her pillow.

He moved his hips in a slow, circular grind against her buttocks. “We’ve established that.”

She bucked angrily, and he pressed her even more firmly into the mattress. “Be still, slayer, or you’ll have a knife through your kidney.” He could fix it, of course, but a punctured organ would ruin the mood.

“Fuck. You.”

“Yeah, that’s the plan.”

He shifted his weight and pushed the flat of the blade between her spine and the waistband of the scrub pants. Cold steel rasped against hot flesh, and she arched up with a groan that shot straight to his cock. Greedily, he sliced through the trousers, and this time, she didn’t move a muscle as he ran the blade down the pant legs until she lay before him, gloriously naked.

Dropping the knife, he spread her legs and knelt between them, let his palms drift from the backs of her knees up along her muscular thighs.

“I can’t do this with you,” she whispered.

“We’ve done it before.”

“But I can’t—”

“I’ll make sure you do.” He bent over her, pressed a lingering kiss to the base of her neck. “You’ll come, Tayla. I’m dying to make you scream for me.”

Her response was muffled by the pillow, and she started to wriggle, but he slid his hand between her legs, cupped her, and she settled down.

“You’re wet. Gods, you’re wet.” He pushed a finger between her swollen lips and started an easy rhythm.

There was nothing easy about how his lungs worked hard to draw air in as he stroked her. Adding another finger, he squeezed her knot of nerves between them, gently rolling it with alternating light and firm pressure. Slow passes of his thumb over the sensitive flesh behind her sex made her squirm and push against him, and when he eased his thumb inside her slick heat while working her with his fingers, she cried out.

“This won’t work,” she whimpered, but her hips were pumping as if she couldn’t stop.

A powerful mix of lust and the need to possess Tayla made him shudder as he scraped his teeth down her spine and murmured against her skin, “But it feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” She fisted the pillow with white-knuckled force. “Oh, yeah.”

“I can smell your need.” Her scent made his nostrils flare, and suddenly he had to taste her, to take all of her into his body. His body that was screaming for release, aching for this woman he should hate but desired in the most primal way.

Unable to wait any longer, he rolled her onto her back. Surprise flickered in the drowsy depths of her eyes, and for a moment he thought she’d resist as he lowered his mouth to her breast. Tremors shook her body, and she held her hands in fists at her sides, but as he drew one dusky nipple between his lips, a soft sigh loosened her to a boneless puddle.

He caressed her breasts, held them so he could divide his attention between them, licking, sucking until she was writhing and her hands had come up to tangle in his hair.

This was what he’d missed out on at the hospital when he’d been in a rush to take her. The slow windup of tension. The building heat. The sweet, citrusy taste of her skin as he licked a trail from her breasts down her abdomen.

He paused to rim her navel with his tongue, felt her sleek, honed muscles flex beneath his palms. Her fingers caressed his scalp, sending tingles to the base of his spine and sparking fiery bolts of pleasure into his balls.

Inching lower, he let her soft feminine curls tickle his cheek as he spread her legs wide, opening her to him. He shifted, admired the sight before him, her swollen flesh served up for him and him alone.

“This… I don’t…” Her gaze met his, and his breath caught at the sight of fear tangled with desire in the depths of her beguiling green eyes. “I—”

“Shh. Easy, slayer.” He buried his tongue in her folds, swiped up her hot valley in one long, slow, motion. She tasted sweet and salty. Honey and hellfire. Forbidden fruit.

Her sultry moan drifted down to him, fueling his hunger. He kissed her deeply, sucked her bud between his lips and flicked his tongue lightly over the protruding tip. Her hips came off the bed, and she whispered something incoherent as he lapped at her and then plunged his tongue deep inside.

“This is wrong,” she panted, but she arched against his lips and dug her nails into his scalp, holding him there in the place he’d like to stay for a long time. But what had been a slow burn under his skin became an inferno, and if he didn’t dip into her hot center quickly, he’d turn to ash.

“Please…”

Please make me come.

She hadn’t said it, but he filled in the blanks, and although he wanted to make her come in his mouth, he reared up, tore off his shirt and sent buttons pinging off the walls. Too impatient to shed his pants, he yanked open his fly with one hand and entered her with a hard thrust. Tight, silken heat surrounded him, a mix of intense sensation that made his arms shake as he covered her.

She clung to him, wrapped her legs around his waist and rode him with a strength and enthusiasm he’d never encountered. He’d taken a lot of females in his life, females who played at sex like a contact sport, but Tayla… she rocked his underworld. She rode him as if she had something to prove, and suddenly he found himself beneath her, squeezed between her iron thighs.

Her pulse leaped in her throat, in time with the small spasms that clenched his shaft and had him on edge and ready to spill inside her. He punched his hips upward, drove so deep her knees came off the bed. Dropping one hand, he spread her wide, used his thumb to rub her rigid button.

“Come,” he panted, his voice harsh, as if he could make her climax with a command.

“I want to, God, I want to…” She increased her pace, sliding up and down on his shaft so hard that the slap of wet flesh striking wet flesh nearly drowned out the fleeting, confusing voice in his head that told him to use the knife.

On himself.

Use it to draw a few precious drops of bond-blood. If she was his…

For all that was unholy, what was he thinking? The s’genesis should come with a warning label.

“I can’t…” Tayla’s cry of frustration took him down a notch, back to where he needed to be. A tear rolled down her cheek, and fuck, he couldn’t take it. She quivered with the need for release, her jaw clenched so tight her lips had turned pale.

“Please.”

Grasping her hips with both hands, he steadied her against him. “Touch yourself. Make yourself come.”

Her fingers dipped between them, and she threw her head back as she circled her bud. Her abs flexed, and her breasts, flushed and heavy with arousal, bounced as she rode him as if they were oiled. The sight of her riding him and pleasuring herself was enough to push him past his limit, and he had to bite his lip until he tasted blood to keep from climaxing.

“Won’t work. It won’t work!” She shook her head wildly, her hair a tangled mess that covered her face. “Dammit!”

She was a mystery. A beautiful, ferocious mystery, the way she was so tough, so dangerous, and at the same time, vulnerable in ways he’d never have expected and couldn’t understand.

“I will get you there,” he swore, and flipped her, pulling out so fast she didn’t have time to look surprised. Taking his cock in his fist, he pumped, imagined it was her hand squeezing his hard length. Seminus demons couldn’t masturbate to orgasm, making sex with females a necessity to relieve the intense, constant sexual cravings, but he could get himself close enough for Tayla to take over. Her slippery juices lubricated him perfectly, and in half a dozen pulls, he walked the line between heaven and hell.

“Spread yourself with one hand,” he panted, “and touch me with the other.”

Reaching between their bodies, she obeyed. The moment she closed her fist around his shaft, he came. Legs shaking as he straddled her thighs, he bent, spurted hot bursts of seed over her center, coating her quivering flesh, her swollen lips, her pulsing nub.

“Oh!” Tiny whimpers escaped her, and she threw her head back, her hips tilting toward him.

Son of a bitch, she was gorgeous, her hair whipping over the pillow in a cascade of fire, her skin slick with sweat, her muscles rippling. He held himself away from her, his breathing still not settled as he watched her approach orgasm. She didn’t need manual stimulation now. His semen was too powerful, a stimulant in its own right.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Let it happen.”

Her gaze flew up, as if she remembered he was still in the room. A sob escaped her, and then her eyes went wild and a scream of frustration tore through the air and, apparently, the paper-thin walls, because someone on the other side pounded against them and shouted vile curses about Tayla’s sexual habits that made him want to punch through the plaster and rip out the man’s throat.

Another sob wracked her body. What the hell? No female could withstand a topical aphrodisiac of that nature… unless her father’s species possessed some sort of natural immunity, something he’d never heard of.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Never in her life had Tayla been so miserable. She writhed, clenching her thighs together. Her body was a powder keg, lit and ready to blow, but unable. It was as though she were being licked, sucked, caressed, held on the very edge of ecstasy until the need for relief became torture.

“Please, make it stop!”

She flailed around on the bed, humiliating herself with the begging, until she felt the cool, wet rasp of a washcloth between her legs as Eidolon washed away what he’d done to her.

“I’m sorry, Tayla… gods, I’m sorry.” He knelt beside her, his gentle ministrations the most intimate thing anyone had ever done to her. “I don’t understand this,” he muttered. “This shouldn’t happen.”

None of this should have happened, but she didn’t have the energy to say that.

When the lust finally eased, she lay limp, trembling, barely able to move. Her sex tingled, felt tender and warm, but at least the maddening arousal had gone.

As with all her sexual encounters with men, she hadn’t been able to climax, had never even been aroused enough to come close. But whatever Hellboy had done when he pulled out and let loose his potent—

Oh, God.

“You.” She sat up in the bed, her head spinning. “Seminus demon… you’re an incubus, aren’t you?”

The lean angle of his jaw grew sharper as he speared her with an unreadable look. “Yes. A rare breed.”

Which explained her unnatural vulnerability and attraction to him. Incubi were opportunistic creatures that used sex as a means to an end. Some fed on sexual energy until the victim died, some stole souls through sex, some planted their offspring inside—

Her stomach heaved. “What did you do to me? Did you suck my energy? I swear, if you impregnated me…”

“Don’t worry. I’m incapable of impregnating anyone until my s’genesis is complete. After that, only other demons need fear me.”

“Other Seminus demons?”

“There are no females of my breed,” he said, tossing the washcloth into her hamper beside the bed. She’d trash it later. Burn it, maybe. “We have to impregnate other species. The offspring are always male, always pure-blooded Seminus demons, though every individual shares some minor traits with his mother’s species.”

She tugged a sheet up to cover herself, because the way he was watching her made her feel like a science experiment. Besides, she was shaking like a leaf. “Like?”

He shrugged. “Shade can turn to shadow in the presence of a shadow. Wraith possesses extraordinary speed and needs to ingest blood to survive. I suffer from a terrible sense of fair play that my brothers lack.”

“Why not impregnate humans?” She couldn’t believe she was asking these questions as though they were bonding over beer and peanuts, but hey, the more she knew, the more efficiently she could kill them.

“Breeding with humans results in cambions. Sterile half-breeds. We need to mate with other demons to keep our species from extinction.”

“And these other species… they don’t mind giving birth to yours?”

The bed creaked and sagged beneath his considerable weight as he stretched out beside her, uncomfortably close, as if they were lovers. Real lovers and not the most mismatched pair of fuck buddies ever. The wolf and the rabbit. The predator and the prey.

A shudder shook her because she was dangerously underestimating him. They were both predators.

“They mind. Which is why, when the s’genesis is complete, we have the ability to shapeshift into the male of any species.”

“So you’re parasites who trick the females into having sex with you.”

“Essentially. The females have no idea what they’ve slept with.”

“And what happens when Junior pops out and he doesn’t look like Mom?” Now her questioning had nothing to do with the job and everything to do with her curiosity. She found it interesting that demons scammed other demons as well as humans.

“Most Seminus demon offspring are abandoned, slaughtered, or eaten within hours of birth.” She could have sworn his expression softened with sadness for a moment, but it was gone by the time he said, “Less than 10 percent survive to adulthood.”

She winced. “Harsh. Is that why so many of the brothers you were talking about are dead?”

“Most of them.”

“What about the one you said survived to the s’genesis? What happened to him?”

“He didn’t have a chance to die from the usual things, like angry males of other species avenging their females’ seductions. Roag was killed by Aegi.”

Shit. She should have seen that one coming. “I, ah—”

“Don’t,” he said softly. “Don’t say you’re sorry, because you aren’t.”

She wasn’t sure she had been going to offer condolences, but she was glad she hadn’t. When she’d told him about her mom, if he’d said he was sorry, she’d have blown a fuse. Yeah, a change of subject would be good right about now. “Your brother said you weren’t raised together… so how do you know how many brothers you’ve had?”

“We feel them. We’re aware of every birth, we stay connected during their lives, and we feel them die.” He averted his gaze. “Every death leaves a hole.”

For the first time, she knew the feeling. Her mother’s death had carved a canyon through her soul, and Janet’s death had cut it deeper. Tay had known foster kids who had been beaten to death, street kids who had ODed, Guardians who’d been torn apart, but she’d never allowed herself to feel sorrow. Not until Janet. Now Tayla encouraged the pain, intentionally maintaining it because although she and Janet hadn’t been close, her death had been Tay’s fault.

“Have you ever met your father? Your real father?”

“He was killed when I was two, shortly after Wraith was born.” She didn’t want to ask, afraid he’d say The Aegis was responsible again, but he seemed to know what she was thinking, and said, “Vampires. Revenge for what he did to Wraith’s mother.”

This time she did want to ask, but her mind had already moved onto the math calculations… Eidolon had said he had over forty siblings, twenty born before he was… so if the father died when he was two, twenty more had come between Eidolon’s birth and his second year.

“Sounds like your species is pretty prolific.”

He folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. “Exactly. That’s why, once the s’genesis is complete, unless we have bonded with a single mate, we are overcome by the urge to seduce and impregnate as many females as possible.” His voice changed, went low, and something told her he wasn’t happy about this change. “It’s all we can think about. And yet, we still face extinction.”

“That would be too bad.”

He narrowed his gaze at her with such intensity that she sucked a harsh breath. “Be careful, little killer. The Fates can fuck with you in ways you can’t even imagine.”

Sitting up, he swung his legs off the bed and started to button his pants. The muscles in his back and arms flexed, and she admired them even as she reached beneath her pillow, grasped her handy-dandy steel pipe—she had a duffel bag full of fancy weapons, but nothing felt as good as heavy piece of basic metal in the palm.

He was beautiful, terribly beautiful. Which made what she was about to do that much more difficult.

She brought the pipe down on his skull. It cracked sharply, and he slumped to the floor.

“Looks like the Fates really fucked with you, Hellboy.” She peered down, almost feeling sorry for him, but she tucked that foolish sentiment away and wrote it off as near-orgasm warm fuzzies. “And they aren’t even close to being done.”

Gem burst into her parents’ Upper West Side house, hoping the call had been a hoax. The broken vase filled with her mother’s prize orchids and the blood on the floor in the formal sitting room said otherwise.

“You sons of bitches,” she whispered to no one in particular, though most of her anger was directed at herself.

If only she’d taken the threat seriously. If only she hadn’t answered the phone the first time the bastards asked her to cut for them. If only she hadn’t told them no when they called back three days later. If only…

Didn’t matter. The damage had been done.

But if it didn’t matter, why did the second phone call, two weeks ago today, keep replaying over and over in her head?

“Well, Gem, what is your answer?”

She looked over at her parents, who were busy serving guests in their backyard—the annual spring barbecue they hosted for the clinic staff they worked with. As Sensor demons, her parents wereter’taceo, demons who lived and worked in the human world, and none were the wiser. Life in the earthly realm came at a price for their particular species, though; every six months they were forced to return to the underground demon realm, Sheoul, and endure a painful, two-week-long regeneration ritual.

“I’ve thought about your offer,” she said in a hushed voice, “and the answer is no. You can’t pay me enough to do what you want.”

“I’d urge you to reconsider.”

“Never.”

“Never say never, doctor.” Insane laughter crackled over the airwaves. The bastard hung up, leaving her shaking and feeling ill.

“Gemella, darling, you don’t look well.”

Startled by her mother’s voice, Gem yelped and spun around. “It’s nothing. Work issue.”

“Must be some work issue.” Her mother, whose human name was Eileen, handed Gem the margarita in her hand. “Looks like you could use this more than I can.”

Gem had practically inhaled the cocktail, even though she rarely drank alcohol. Too much liquor negated the effect of the protective spells she’d had tattooed on her body in order to control her demon half. She’d stopped after that one margarita, but now, as she searched her parents’ house, hoping they were here despite the bloody evidence to the contrary, she thought about breaking into their wet bar and drinking everything they had. Right now, letting out her inner demon might not be a bad thing.

She saved her old room for last, the one her parents kept exactly as she’d left it when she moved out almost five years ago to attend medical school—two years early, thanks to her parents’ militant homeschooling that had put her ahead of schedule in college. They’d always hoped she’d come back home to live after graduation as many Sensor demon offspring did until they’d been mated off by their parents. But Gem wasn’t a Sensor, and while she loved the family that had adopted her instead of killing her as an infant, she’d needed her own space to discover who she was and where she truly belonged.

She also had no desire to suffer an arranged mating.

Her room, decorated in black, crimson, and blue, had driven her mom nuts, which had pretty much been the point. Rebellious from the start, Gem had probably, on several occasions over the course of her twenty-four years, made her parents regret their decision to raise her. But they’d also loved her, and she had no doubts about that. Her mom never once let her go to bed without a good night hug, and her father had set aside the third Saturday of every month to take her someplace special, just the two of them. Knowing she’d need to blend in, they’d provided her with a very normal human childhood that included church, sleepovers, and camping. As long as she avoided the securely locked basement, she could almost pretend she—and they—were human.

Though she didn’t expect to find anything, she searched her bedroom and found exactly what she’d expected. Nothing. The Ghouls really had nabbed her parents, the sons of bitches. She moved toward the door. Halted as she passed the dresser.

No.

But she had to. She’d avoided this for far too long.

Heart pounding, she opened the top drawer and fumbled around until her fingers found the thin photo album duct-taped to the underside of the top. She removed it, her hands shaking so badly that she nearly dropped the small leather-bound book.

She almost didn’t open it. The thing felt heavier than it was, the phantom weight of memories that should have been but never were.

God, she was such a drama queen.

Disgusted with herself, she opened the book and flipped through the two dozen pictures. All of people who didn’t know they’d been captured on film. All taken at a distance.

All of Tayla Mancuso and the slayer’s now-dead mom.