A Demonic Bundle (18 page)

Read A Demonic Bundle Online

Authors: Lexi George Kathy Love,Angie Fox

Brand was long gone, but yelling made her feel better.
Her relief was temporary. Clinging to the steeple, she returned her attention to the fight below. Super Rafe was stalking his enemy.
Bloop,
he popped into view near the rear entrance of the church.
Bloop,
the Hardy monster materialized in the far corner of the garden. The monster was outmatched and his powers seemed to be waning. His arms hung limply at his sides, and he no longer threw fiery orbs of energy. His gray mouth hung open and he was heaving from exertion. Some of Bunny’s terror for Rafe eased. It was going to be okay. It was all going to be okay.
Rafe blinked from sight and reappeared next to Hardy. He swung his axe. The blade whistled through the air in a shining, silver arc.
It was
soooo
not going to be okay.
Her husband was about to commit murder on their wedding day. Not an auspicious beginning for a marriage, any way you sliced it.
Somehow, Bunny was off the roof and running across the garden.
“Rafe,
no.
”
The blade came down. It missed Mr. Hardy and shattered a marble statue of Saint Francis instead.
Bunny skidded to a halt, staring in horror at Mr. Hardy. His head swelled, his mouth fell open, and his lower jaw stretched to the ground. Black smoke poured out of the gaping hole. Mr. Hardy’s body crumpled to the ground like an empty balloon. With an eerie howl, the column of smoke flew over the church and disappeared in the direction of the river.
The battle-axe in Rafe’s hand winked out of sight.
Mr. Hardy groaned and sat up. “What happened?” Rafe made a slashing motion with one hand. “You will sleep.”
Mr. Hardy’s eyes rolled back and he slumped over.
“Mr. Hardy!” Bunny cried, running over to the photographer. She glared at Rafe. “What did you do to him?”
“He is unharmed. When he awakens, he will remember nothing of this.”
“Lucky fellow.” Bunny checked Mr. Hardy’s pulse. It was steady. “I don’t understand anything that just happened.”
Rafe stalked over and yanked her to her feet. “I will tell you what happened. You interfered where you should not have. You will not do so again.”
Bunny gasped. “You almost killed Mr. Hardy!”
“ ’Twas my intent to kill him. I would have succeeded but for your screeching.”
“You can’t go around killing people willy nilly, especially at a wedding! It’s bad luck!”
“I do not kill in a random fashion—”
“The proper response would be
I don’t kill people at all
!”
“—but in accordance with my preordained purpose. This was not a person. It was a demon in the Hardy human’s flesh, likely the same demon that attacked you.”
Bunny tried to process what he was saying, but it was difficult. Too much had happened, too quickly.
“Attacked me?” she repeated, frowning. “Are you talking about that night at the library? You told me it was a mugger.”
He glared down at her. “It was not a mortal assailant. You were attacked by a djegrali. A demon, you humans would call it.”
She shook her head in growing confusion. This was all unreal. She couldn’t process any of it. Her brain was mush. She must be in shock. Or maybe she’d had a stroke. Yeah, that was it. She’d had a stroke. That would explain a lot.
“You say ‘you humans’ like you’re not one.”
“I am Dalvahni.”
Bunny stamped her foot. “I know who you are, for crying out loud! I’m
Mrs.
Dalvahni. I married you.”
He gripped her shoulders. “Dalvahni is not my name, Bunny. It is what I
am.
The Dalvahni are demon slayers, warriors who seek the djegrali through space and time. Kill them, if need be, lest they wreak havoc upon innocent beings.”
“I thought you worked for INS!”
“I am unfamiliar with this term.”
She twisted free of his grasp. “Immigration Services? You told me you rounded up aliens, for Pete’s sake!”
“So I do. The djegrali are alien to this world.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “You’re telling me you’re not human.”
“I am not human.”
“And that you don’t work for the Federal Government.”
“I do not.”
“And you’re a demon slayer.”
“Yes,” he said.
She took a deep breath and blew it out again. “I’m not listening to any more of this.”
She spun on her heel and stomped off. Her exit would have been more dramatic if she weren’t limping on one shoe.
“Stop. That is not all,” he called after her. “The demon inflicted a mortal wound upon you that night. If not for my intercession, you would have died.” She limped faster. His voice rose, following her. “Do you hear me, Bunny? I gave you a portion of my essence. You are no longer human.”
Bunny picked up her skirts and ran.
Chapter Two
R
afe watched Bunny flit down the tree-lined path away from him, the train of her white dress trailing behind her.
He scowled. She was running from the truth.
She was running from
him.
The knowledge made him feel hollow inside.
He shrugged the thought aside. The Dalvahni did not have
feelings
. They were immortal demon hunters, created for that purpose alone. They experienced battle lust and sexual desire—particularly in the wake of battle—but little else in the way of emotion.
Sentiment had no place in their existence. Feelings were a human indulgence.
Rafe still found it unbelievable that Brand had fallen so completely under a woman’s spell. Never before had a warrior surrendered to sentiment. That it had happened to
Brand
, a stalwart, courageous warrior, ferocious in battle and unswerving in purpose, sent a ripple of unease through the ranks of the Dalvahni.
It was the reason Rafe accepted this assignment from Conall, the captain of the Dalvahni. He needed to find out for himself why one of their finest warriors had done something so unprecedented.
He had filed his initial report. Brand’s passion for Addy Corwin was an anomaly, he informed Conall, a form of madness confined to Brand. The incident was unfortunate, but it would not happen again.
His decision to marry Bunny was the practical solution to a problem: he could keep her safe from the demon that attacked her. Nothing more. True, he enjoyed coupling with her, but that was an added benefit. The pleasure they shared was physical and of little consequence. He, in turn, protected her from the djegrali.
Having marked her, the creature would be irresistibly drawn to her. When it came for her, Rafe would be there to slay the demon. Once Bunny’s safety was insured, he would return to the Hall of Warriors.
Yes, his marriage to Bunny was a simple business arrangement. Certainly, his
emotions
were not involved.
His scowl deepened as she disappeared from view. Bunny still did not fully comprehend the situation. She had received a severe shock. He would give her time to think things over. Then they would discuss matters in a calm, rational manner.
Calm, rational, unemotional, that was the Dalvahni way. Now that Bunny was Dalvahni, it would be her way too.
He felt an enormous sense of relief at the prospect. He had been off balance since he met Bunny, a feeling of disorientation he attributed to the unusual amount of demonic activity in this place and the circumstances of their initial encounter.
He had been on the trail of one of the djegrali the first time he saw her. Stalking the creature through the streets at dusk, he had noticed a small building ablaze with lights not far from the center of town. Curious, he had paused in front of the structure and spied Bunny through the window.
That first glimpse of her had been like a hammer blow to the head. His already heightened senses sharpened and his body tightened in awareness.
Ah,
he remembered thinking. Something buried deep inside of him stirred to life, as though he’d waited for this moment throughout the long, dark tunnel of his existence. It was a ridiculous notion, of course. Proof positive that unwholesome forces were at work.
He could see her from the waist up. She had her back to him. Standing on tiptoe, she placed a book on a shelf. The small movement made the muscles of her back and narrow shoulders bunch against the thin fabric of her blouse. His throat went dry. By the sword, he needed to slake his lust in the House of the Thralls if the sight of a woman’s back was arousing him. And a fully clothed female at that.
He moved closer to the window, wanting to see more of her.
She was not to his usual taste, too slender and pale. Not golden-skinned and sumptuously curved like Xedra, his favorite thrall.
But her hair was glorious, like dark silk. She wore it in a careless knot on top of her head. A few wispy curls escaped their moorings to dangle at the back of her neck. He stared resentfully at those silky ringlets, fortuitously positioned against her tender nape.
He
wanted to whisper kisses along her creamy skin, lick the delicate shell of her ear, and feel the teasing caress of her dark locks upon his naked body.
She turned, as though she sensed his scrutiny. She could not see him. He was Dalvahni and invisible for the hunt. Still, he felt her gaze upon him like a physical touch.
And her eyes . . .
They were large and round, surrounded by a fringe of dark lashes. He could not tell their color.
Frustrated and curious, he moved closer still. She came to the window to look out. They were face to face. All that separated them was a pane of glass. The light was behind her, her face in shadows. He gazed at her, fascinated by the satin planes of her high cheeks and the soft curve of her wide mouth. With his finger, he traced the outline of her lips on the glass, memorizing their lush shape. She was not a beauty, perhaps. Her face was more heart-shaped than oval, her chin too stubborn, but she was fascinating to him all the same.
She stared out the window for a long moment, searching the darkness before turning back to her cart of books. He suppressed a growl of displeasure. She had abandoned him.
Abandoned him? Where had such a notion come from? A Dalvahni warrior was a rock, unworn by time, need or loneliness, an island fortress complete unto himself.
Shaking off his uncomfortable thoughts, he retreated into the shadows. A good hunter possessed patience. And, like all Dalvahni warriors, he was a very good hunter. The djegrali forgotten, he settled down to await his new prey. She would emerge from the safety of her den eventually and then he would . . . what?
Follow her home like a lovesick swain, an unseen escort protecting her from an evil she would neither accept nor comprehend? Step out of the night and introduce himself? But to what end? Congress between humans and the Dalvahni was impractical, to say the least. Humans were frail, insubstantial creatures, their lives but a brief flutter of candlelight in the dark reaches of eternity compared to the immortal Dalvahni.
The minutes stretched by and he grew uneasy. His instincts told him some mischief was afoot. He prowled the perimeter of the building, searching for signs of the djegrali, but found none. He could enter the building. Ascertain her well-being and slip out again undetected. No lock or key was proof against the Dalvahni.
He hesitated, reluctant to give in to this unaccustomed weakness. He was acting like an old woman, afraid of the dark and jumping at shadows. Annoyed with himself, he crossed the street and stood on the other side. He needed distance from the woman.
A man pulled up in one of the modern wheeled conveyances used by humans. Rafe could not remember the word for this particular contraption. The horse and carriage were still in use the last time he hunted the djegrali on Earth. He searched his word bank for the appropriate word. Ah, yes, the thing was called a “truck.” The vehicle had a sign on the side with some lettering. Rafe concentrated. The gift of languages was another Dalvahni talent, a necessity in their travels between worlds. After a moment, the strange squiggles rearranged themselves into something recognizable.
Pringle Janitorial Services,
the sign said.
The man pushed a wheeled cart up to the front door of the building and pressed the buzzer.
“Hey, Mr. Pringle, come on in,” the woman said, opening the door to the man with a smile. “I’m still putting up books, but I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.” She wrinkled her nose. “Good gracious, they must be burning tires out at the dump again. Something sure smells bad.”
The cart rattled as the man followed her inside and shut the door.
Rafe stood unmoving in the darkness. His blood pulsed hot in his head and in his groin. That voice, that throaty, slightly breathless voice, unexpected from a creature so sweet and demure in appearance. It conjured up images of heated bodies and sex-drenched sheets.
He wanted her. He needed her. Now.
Cursing his bewildering and unruly lust for the human female, he strode across the street. As he approached the entrance he detected the faint but unmistakable rank odor of the djegrali.
She had opened the door and let the demon in. She would be helpless against it.
A kind of madness seized him. With a roar of anguish, he flung his arms wide. The door tore off the hinges. Moving with the preternatural speed of a predator, he raced inside and found her, lying on the floor beneath the djegrali amid a jumble of books. There was blood on her blouse, on the books, and on the demon’s human shell. Rafe threw his axe. The demon snarled and leaped unharmed through a window, disappearing into the night.
There was no thought of pursuit. All of Rafe’s being was focused on the broken figure lying on the floor. Her arms and legs were bent at odd angles and her throat was torn and bloody. He fell to the floor beside her and pulled her into his lap. A weak pulse beat in her savaged neck but she was near unto death. The beast had torn her jugular and she had lost too much blood.
She was dying. He could feel her slipping away from him. “No, you will not leave me.” His voice sounded rough to his own ears. He shook her. “Do you hear me? You will not leave.”
Without thinking, he placed his hands on her and poured his essence into her body. The gaping wound at her neck closed and some of her color returned. Her eyelids fluttered and lifted.
Gray, he noted with bemusement. Her eyes were gray with turquoise rims. Beautiful, liquid, starred with flecks of silver. He fell into them.
“There you are.” She looked up at him in wonder. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you.”
Her words startled him. She did not know what she was saying, of course. She could not. How could she be waiting for someone she had just met? It was irrational.
“Be at ease, you are safe,” he said gruffly, even though she did not appear to be alarmed. “I will protect you. You have my word.”
The next day, he hunted down the man called Pringle with the intention of disposing of the djegrali once and for all. It was the only way to keep Bunny safe. But the demon had abandoned its human host and there was no trace of it. He could not predict where it might be or in what form.
The demon had marked her. It would come for her again. Rafe was certain of it.
And so he had married her. It had been an easy enough thing to accomplish. She was so in love with him. He’d planned the matter most carefully, laying siege to her with tender words and passionate caresses one night in her bedroom until she was panting and eager for him.
“Rafe, please,” she’d said, arching against him. “I love you.”
Meaningless words to a Dalvahni warrior and, yet, he hoarded them away like a beggar stores scraps of food for a cold, hard winter. He was sweating with the effort not to take her. It was always like this with her, a fever of desire he did not understand.
But he held back.
“I need you, too.” Lifting his hips, he rubbed the head of his shaft between her tender folds. Gods, she was damp and ready for him. He gritted his teeth to keep from sliding inside her.
“I want to make you mine,” he said, “to keep you safe and protect you. Say yes, Bunny.”
Her beautiful eyes widened. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
Marriage: a rite wherein one human is bound to another in a consensual, contractual relationship recognized by law.
Bunny would be his.
“Yes, I am asking you to marry me.”
It seemed the most expedient way to keep her safe, Rafe reflected as he followed his runaway bride down the path. He desired Bunny, this he freely admitted, but love had nothing to do with it. A Dalvahni warrior did not suffer the pangs of human emotion.
His steps flagged. A Dalvahni warrior also did not chase after a woman like a lovesick boy.
But how can you protect her if you are not with her?
a traitorous voice whispered inside his head.
The djegrali could return. The fiend could be at the river, disguised as one of the guests. She is not safe.

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