A Midsummer Night's Demon (3 page)

Panic set in as the fog from her mind cleared, and she realized she was not in her bedroom, but instead in a room she didn’t know—with a stranger. No, make that a large man she did not know, she amended noting his height. Her eyes darted around the room with clarity for the first time. And they were alone! Her hands fisted in the sheet bringing it under her chin.

“Where am I?” she demanded, her eyes narrowing accusingly. “Who are you?”

The sizeable man put his hands out in surrender. “Whoa. It’s okay. You’re safe. I’d never hurt you.”

“Who. Are. You.” she repeated slowly, as if he wasn’t very bright.

Lyn watched an emotion flicker in his icy gaze, but it disappeared before she could put a name to it. He steeled the features on his handsome face. “There are not many people in this world who would speak to me like that.”

Lyn knew a moment of concern. She didn’t know this man. Maybe being impolite might not be the best approach.

“I didn’t mean to be rude.” She hoped he found her sincere. “I only want your name. I don’t think that is too much to ask.”

“Has anyone ever told you, you are feisty?”

“We Latinos are known for our fiery passion, if that is what you mean? Are you going to tell me your name or should I start guessing? Rumpelstiltskin?”

One eyebrow shot up in interest as he cocked his head. “My name is Ky Robinson.”

She pushed herself into a seated position, bracing her back against the headboard. “Where am I, Ky Robinson?”

“In my home.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Where’s that Mr. Smartass?”

“Definitely feisty.” The corner of Ky’s mouth lifted into a sly grin.

Getting answers from this man was like pulling teeth from a faery—damned near impossible and totally frustrating. “So where is your home?” Lyn prompted, straightening the sheets around her.

“Florida.”

This line of questioning was getting her nowhere. She would need to switch tactics to get any information from this man. Obviously the direct approach wouldn’t work. “Can you at least tell me why I’m here?”

His body stiffened at the question. It was subtle and for a moment when he spoke she thought perhaps she’d imagined it. “I brought you here to keep you safe. You were attacked last night.”

Memories crashed in on her. Her hand flew to her throat. Lyn fingered the ragged flesh. Someone had stitched the wound. One. Two. Nine. She lost count. Her questioning eyes pinned his. “The man…my date…hurt me. Tore my neck. Why aren’t I in a hospital?”

He took a glass of water from the nightstand beside the bed and held it out to her. “Here, I thought you might be thirsty. And I have aspirin if you are in much pain.”

She had already been drugged once. No way would she take a chance on being drugged again. Until she was sure he could be trusted, she would not be taking anything he had to offer. “No pills. I’m fine.”

He tracked her hand as it took the glass from him. His eyes narrowed when she did not drink from it. “I know you are hurting, Lyn. You can trust me. I’m a…cop.”

“Really?” He sounded so sincere. Lyn could read the honesty on his face. Her demonic instinct told her she could believe him, though she was not sure why. He hadn’t given her any reason to feel strongly one way or the other, but she believed him. Maybe she just needed to believe in the goodness of humanity after the attack. In that moment, she didn’t care to examine it too closely. She was safe and not alone—two things she desperately wanted right now.

“Yes, really. I’m trying to catch the guy who attacked you. What do you remember about last night?”

A puzzled look took her face. She paused before answering, replaying the previous night’s events in her mind. “I met a blind date at the bar for a drink.”

“Go on,” he encouraged, standing stone still next to the bed. Lyn saw an emotion pass over his face something akin to tempered anger. As quick as it appeared it was gone, replaced by an implacable mask.

“We had a drink, maybe two, then I started to feel funny. Told him I wanted to go home.”

Lyn tugged her lower lip between her teeth. She watched as Ky’s eyes trailed the movement. His muscles bunched under his flesh. He shifted his stance, the movement drawing her eyes to his thick, jean-clad thighs.

The demon looked—really looked—at the man beside her for the first time. She took her time in a slow perusal of his anatomy. Beginning with his handsome face, her eyes roamed down the column of his corded neck to take in the broad shoulders that led to his bare chest. His body flexed under her scrutiny when her eyes moved over the corrugated muscles of his stomach to his narrow waist. His jeans hung low on his hips, the dark material stretched over an impressive bulge. His pants hugged thighs which were thick as the trunks on the local palms.

Powerfully built, his calm demeanor belied an underlying strength. He was a hunter, a predator, and he looked at her as if she was his prey. And heaven help her, she wanted to be. She swallowed convulsively.

Something drew her to this man. His unabashed confidence? The intensity of his stare? He called to her baser instincts. Man to woman. Male to female. She knew the term animal magnetism, but had never experienced it until now. He was pure male animal power and everything female in her responded. Her tongue darted out to touch her upper lip. The muscles of his belly tightened in response to the subconscious sensuality of the gesture.

He crossed his arms over his chest, and she could not help but notice how his thick biceps bulged. A tribal tattoo wrapped around his left bicep and shoulder in an intricate pattern that made his presence all the more powerful.

“Lyn.” The raspy tone in his voice told her he was as affected as she by the heat between them. “Don’t look at me like that, honey.”

She could see the desire in his blue eyes, the ice there quickly going up in flames. He inhaled deeply, taking steadying breaths as if he struggled with his self-control.

“Lyn, tell me more about last night,” he commanded, his rough voice sounding harsh.

“Where was I?” she asked absently, her thoughts on his reaction. He’d chastised her for looking at him. Obviously she misunderstood the tone of his voice when he called her honey. He wasn’t interested in her, only her story—a cop looking for a statement. She drew her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them in a bracing hug.

“You wanted to go home,” he prompted.

“Yes. I felt dizzy. I stood up to leave, the room spun, and I started to fall but he caught me. I knew it couldn’t be the alcohol because I didn’t drink that much wine, so I asked him why he drugged me. He said something sarcastic about it being easier than mind control.”

The muscle in Ky’s jaw ticked, the only outward sign that her story affected him.

“He pulled me from the bar, flung me over his shoulder, and took off down the sidewalk.” She gave him a weak smile. “The next thing I remember is looking up to see a handsome knight coming to my rescue.”

He reached down to cup the side of her face with the palm of his hand. It warmed and soothed her cheek.

“I know what happened from there.” His hand fell from her face, leaving her a little bereft from the loss of contact. “Tell me more about this guy. How do you know him?”

“I didn’t know him. Remember, I said he was a blind date. We met online.” Ky lifted one brow giving Lyn a derisive look. Fire leapt into her cheeks as her face flushed. “And before you say anything, I know it was stupid to meet him at a bar. I offered to meet him for lunch at a restaurant, but he talked me into drinks at the bar. He was very charismatic.”

Another flash of emotion crossed his face. Was he jealous? Angry? Lyn wished he’d stop hiding his emotions. Trying to catch them was getting exhausting.

“Did he pick you up or did you meet him?”

“He picked me up at my townhouse.”

Ky nodded. “What name did he give you?”

“Juan Herrero.” Tears burned her eyes, clouding her vision.

A rude snort of derision exited from his throat. “You know that is Spanish for John Smith?”

She nodded her head. “I speak Spanish. I know.” Her tone was sharp. “And don’t you dare say it. I feel foolish enough without you telling me how dumb it was to meet a guy from the internet named John Smith. I don’t know what made me do it.” Her anger threatened to push the tears from her eyes.

“You know you could have been killed,” he chastised softly, shaking his head back and forth.

She curled into herself, drawing her knees tighter against her chest. Her tears burst their dam, to run down her cheeks in twin rivers that wet the sheet tucked around her knees. Stupid—that was the best word to describe her. Her knight was right, she could have been killed.
Was
almost killed. Had he not come to her rescue, she would be lying dead in that parking garage.

Her body shook with her sobs. Lyn looked up at Ky through her tears, and found him staring at her. His eyes softened, his weight shifted nervously between his feet.

The man sat on the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight. He took her chin in his hand, forced her to meet his eyes. “I shouldn’t have made that comment about you getting yourself killed. Sometimes my internal filter doesn’t work. I apologize, Lyn.” He paused. She saw the sincerity of his apology in his eyes. “It is my fault, honey. If I had been quicker you would not have gotten hurt.”

She attempted to shake her head in protest, but his grip forestalled her. “You did nothing wrong. You saved me. If you hadn’t been there…” Another sob shook her body, keeping her from completing the sentence.

Ky gathered her into his arms. “Shhh. Please don’t cry.”

He drew her onto his lap, tucking her head against his shoulder. A sensation of comfort and reassurance cocooned around her to sooth her like a warm balm.

“Lyn, you have to stop crying, honey. My heart can’t take it.”

Her breath hitched in her lungs. He lifted her as if she weighed no more than a child and rocked her, holding her to him in a tender embrace as if he cared for her. But she knew better. Love at first sight did not exist.

Did it?

His concern did seem genuine. And the way he said honey sounded more like an endearment than a general term.

She pushed the train of thought aside, refusing to allow her mind to continue down that track. She needed to get a grip. It must be the trauma from last night.

She needed someone to lean on, and this handsome man, who had rescued her, happened to be here to cling to. She knew the term for that—hero worship.

As much as she would like to stay here and hide away from her problems, she couldn’t. She had to go out and face her fears. And no handsome stud muffin was going to stop her, no matter how protected and safe he made her feel. She wanted some space, some time away from him, so she could get perspective.

“I need a shower.” She pushed out of the comfort of his arms.

Ky stood, helping her to her feet. “Sure. The bathroom is through that door. I’ll bring you some clean towels.”

Lyn wiped the tears from her eyes and sniffled. “Do you happen to have something I could wear?”

A small, mischievous grin lifted the corners of his mouth as his gaze burned over her body. “I’m sure I can find something.”

Lyn watched him leave the room, appreciating the way his jeans hugged the curves of his backside. She sighed. He was gorgeous and sweet. He appeared to care about her. He was…too good to be true.

She’d allowed one man to snare her in his charismatic lies, and it had almost gotten her killed. She mentally kicked herself for nearly allowing it to happen again.

Ky Robinson might be handsome, but she didn’t know him.

And she would not make the same mistake twice.

After a quick shower, I’m out of here
.

Chapter Three

Ky reached for a bath towel knowing he would never be able to let her leave his home. He chose one of his favorite T-shirts for her to wear. It would be big, probably fall to her knees to drape over her body in a most delicious way. He imagined her in the bathroom, his shirt clinging to her wet body, hair dripping down her back.
Shit!
His libido awakened once more, which seemed to happen every time he thought about her.

If this was what it was like between heartmates, no wonder so many of them disappeared for months once they found each other. He struggled to keep his hands off her. And the attraction was more than just physical. He loved her fiery spirit, her determination to face her fears.

The holes in his life could be filled by her, as if she were the other half of his soul. Finding her gave him a sense of peace. A comfort he never again wanted to be without. He now understood why heartmates often chose to follow one another in death. He had almost lost her before he’d found her.

Ky needed to find the
debauchee
, but he had nothing to go on. The name the vampire gave to Lyn had obviously been a fake. He’d picked her up at her place, so they didn’t know where the monster lived. All Ky knew for sure was that the
debauchee
knew how to use the internet and possibly frequented the bar down on Fifth Street. Not much to go on, but he had found him once and he would find a way to do so again.

Ky took the towel and shirt into her room. Knocking on the bathroom door he called out, “Lyn, I have your stuff. You want me to leave them by the door or bring them in?”
Please say bring them in.

“You can leave them by the door. And please close the bedroom door when you leave.”

Damn!
Not that he had truly expected her to bid him join her in the bathroom, but a vampire could hope. “I’m going to make us a little something to eat. Call if you need anything. I’ll hear you.”

“Thanks,” the sultry, disembodied voice called from behind the door.

Twenty minutes later, Ky almost sliced his finger off when Lyn appeared in his kitchen dressed in his T-shirt, toweling her hair dry. With her hands lifted to her head, his shirt fell about half way down her thighs, allowing him a glimpse of her lithe legs. Her breasts jiggled as she worked.