Beast of Fire -- a Demon Hunting Sexy Romance (18 page)

Somehow, she managed a nonchalant reply and even a tiny smile. “All right then.”
 

He showed no reaction. “I’ll give you a few minutes to gather your things,” he commented. “The car will wait for you at the garage elevator.”

He departed then, no further ado. No goodbye or "see ya." He simply sauntered toward the elevator. And it couldn’t be fast enough for her.

 
Kresley stood stiffly behind her desk and waited until Cullen was inside the car and the doors had firmly shut. The instant they were, she launched into action, scrambling for her cell phone and dialing Lucan. Come on. Come on. Answer. Still nothing. “Please let him be okay,” she whispered, a moment before she left him yet another message; this one detailed the ride home with Cullen, glossed over as a "I’m on my way home, honey" message, in case someone was listening. The book incident had proven that every move she made was watched. She had no doubt sound recorded as well.
   

She opened her drawer and fretfully removed the book. Her purse was tiny, and carrying the envelope seemed obvious and awkward. Why invite confrontation by flaunting the book? She pondered her briefcase as an option, which was there from the day before, but she hesitated to weigh herself down, in case she needed to move quickly in an attack.
 

With limited options available, she fixed her purse strap over her shoulder and rushed down the hallway to the mailroom where she grabbed a bigger envelope, and shoved the book and the original envelope inside. Still pretty obvious, but it would have to do. She headed to the elevator. Where are you, Lucan?
 

Reaching the parking garage, she found that the black town car, indeed, was waiting, the windows tinted, the interior impervious to sight. She could leave this place and never come back, forget the danger, forget Cullen. But it wasn’t that simple anymore. Not only did she need to free Lucan, she had to be sure she hurt no one else. She couldn’t bear that. If she remained captive to the Guardians, they would torture her until she used her fire for their dark pursuits. She couldn’t let that happen.
 

She frowned, realizing she would never in a million years consider getting into a car with Nick. He worked for Cullen, as his Head of Security, so why did she feel more comfortable with Cullen? She thought about that a moment and realized that with Cullen she sensed power, a degree of cold calculation, but not the menace of Nick. It made no sense. None. The Seers' words came back to her. Good and evil in every type of being. A bad feeling slid into her stomach. Was Cullen good or was he evil.
 
Or was both, depending on what his needs were at the time?
 

She shook off the thought. It didn’t matter, not really. She’d known from the moment she made this deal that she had to decide if she was willing to hand the ring over to Adrian or not. Somehow, she’d reasoned that she could make all of this work out in the end, free Lucan, and destroy only Demons in the process. But that was before she knew that all Demons might not be evil, and also before she was, once again, marked. A growing sense that there was no good way out of all of this, no happy ending, was quickly building inside her. Because Lucan was right–she could not risk having her firestarting skills fall into the hands of the Underworld.
 

Her hand tightened on the envelope holding the book, reminding her of the Knights and their potential destruction through fire. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t give the ring to Adrian and allow him to use it against the Knights. But neither could she leave it with a Demon, good or evil. No matter what her fate in all of this, she needed to know something good would come out of it. The ring had to be removed and given to the Knights. Surely, Lucan would agree with this as well.
 

As for her future, her destiny, she would not be used as a weapon by those who were evil. She couldn’t risk the Demons finding ways to manipulate her, finding ways to turn her into a killer. If she couldn’t find a way to gain her freedom in the next two weeks, death would be a more honorable choice. Death would be the only choice.
 

Kresley started walking toward the car.

***

Lucan blinked into the present, the pitch-black room surrounding him. Oh God. Kresley. He reached for his phone, saw the missed calls and punched the messages – listened. Hit save, save, save – finally to the last one. By the time it finished playing, he was already walking out the door. Kresley. With Cullen. Seething anger wrecked havoc on his nerve endings,
 
anger that superseded any fear he felt for Kresley, anger that had no logic or reason. He forced deep breaths as he took the stairs. Step. Breath. Step. Breath.
 

He’d just spent hours living in hellacious nightmares of Kresley intimately entwined with Cullen. Torturous, long hours of her naked in the Wolf's arms. He stopped walking, hands on the narrow walls of the stairwell. Breath in. Breath out. Think. Think. Get a grip. The Guardians woke you up at this precise moment for a reason. They woke you up at a moment when they could use your anger to their advantage. They wanted the Wolf dead; they want it too badly, at any cost.
 

“So do I,” he murmured vehemently. “So do I.”
 

He reached for his phone and dialed Kresley’s number again. Waited. Ground his teeth. Waited. No answer. It was all he could do not to throw the phone against the concrete wall. Lucan let out a growl, something part human, part beast. He grabbed his head, loose hair falling from the confines of a clasp at his neck. He barely contained a yell, just barely. Anger sizzled within him, begging for explosion. He was on edge, primal, dark. The doctor and scientist who had once helped people in need didn’t exist anymore.
 

“Hold it together, damn it,” he murmured and started walking again. Hold it together until Kresley is safe and any threat to the Knights eliminated.
 

He half ran down the rest of the stairs, burst through the door into the parking garage, and catalogued the people in the area with a barely there look. Two males getting out of a white Mercedes, a female and a male walking toward a canary yellow Porsche, a tall cowboy with briefcase exiting a white Hummer.
 
Lucan cut to the left, to the second level, side exit, avoiding anyone halfway human, aware he wasn’t fit for confrontation with anyone that couldn’t be called "Demon."
 

Determined to come face to face with the Demon from his nightmares, the one who’d spent the past four hours doing what Lucan didn’t dare – making love to his mate.

***

The parking garage was dark, the car, darker. Kresley slid into the back of the town car and shut the door, resting her back against it as she angled her body to face Cullen. Ready for confrontation.
 

He sat at the farthest end of the seat, shrouded in shadows. Her nostrils flared with the scent of new leather and spicy male cologne. If she was right about the Wolf’s senses, then Cullen’s sense of smell would pick up something else – fear – hers. And she did feel fear. She didn’t want to. She wanted to be brave, a Xena-Warrior kind of brave, a female who could be empowered in battle. She would not feel fear.

Silence clung to the air, forced away her words and his, heavy with expectations of what would be discussed during this ride.
   

Cullen’s right hand rested on his leg, the ring on his finger. She was aware of its presence, too aware. The car started moving, and light caught on the stone, an ominous reflection that reminded her of how badly this could end – fire against fire – a battle, a standoff, death.
   

The driver asked for the address to her apartment. Kresley shook herself out of her mental doomsday, but then hesitated on her answer, saw no option, and spouted out her apartment location.
 

A few seconds of heavy silence followed, and then Cullen spoke, his voice low, hollow. “I need to know I can trust you, Kresley.”

Wow. Okay. Direct. Don’t lie, Kresley. He’ll know. Choose every word with caution. “Trust is important," she countered. She wasn’t about to bring up the book.

He did. “Is there a reason you went into my library without asking?”

The car was moving now. “You weren’t there and I was curious.”

Silence, then to her shock, he laughed, a low rumble of genuine amusement. “Not the answer I expected.”

“You expected a lie,” she stated, feeling a bit more at ease, but still ready to throw a little fire if needed. Of course, she wasn’t sure how she would do that without blowing up the car. On a positive note, the same limitations applied to him. She relaxed a little. Very little.
 

“I did,” he admitted. “I absolutely did. So tell me. What sparked your curiosity?”
 

“Closed doors make me nervous,” she replied. “A product of watching too many horror movies when I was a kid.” Pulled that right out of a hat, but it was still true. She’d watched them to remind herself there were worse things than her fire in the world.
 

He laughed again, and this time a streetlight caught the bright white teeth. No fangs. That was comforting. It reminded her he had to shift to get those. That would take a few moments–time that she could use to her advantage. “But you managed to find an interest in books?” he asked.

She nodded, though it was doubtful he could see in the dark. “So did you, apparently,” she countered and decided she had to take this opportunity to learn about her enemy. Be brave. “You have a large collection of religious readings.” Coyly, she added, "I wouldn’t have taken you as a religious man.”

He was silent longer than expect, and she had the distinct impression she’d taken him off guard with her directness. “You think all corporate types are demons rather than angels?”

She stiffened before she could stop herself. This time her response came slowly, but somehow she managed to regroup and croak out a challenge. No fear, Kresley. “You tell me?”
 

“Would you believe I have a degree in theology?”

Her eyes went wide. “You have a degree in theology?”

“The concept of good and evil rules this world. It’s a fascinating phenomenon. To understand it is to understand humanity.”

 
“You speak as if you are on the outside looking in.”

“Aren’t we all in some way?” he countered. “Or, at least, felt that we were?”
 

There was something so human about the way he said the words. Something so real. Certainly, it was something she related to. “I guess we have.”

They pulled up to her apartment building. “Did you bring home the book that I gave you?”

She gave a short incline of her head, wondering where this was going. “I did. I hope that is okay?”

“I wouldn’t have given it to you if it wasn’t, though it's difficult reading. Most believe it’s written in a language specific to the Underworld.”

So he could read it but knew she could not. No wonder he gave it to her. Still, she wondered, “Why would a book written by the underworldmons have the Star of David on it?”

They were under a curbside streetlight, and she could see his face clearly now. He arched a brow. “Know a little about religion yourself, I guess?” questioning her rather than answering her inquiry.

“That’s why the book drew my attention,” she agreed.
 

He studied her with a calculating look. “Do you believe Demons and Angels walk the earth, Kresley?”
 

She held his stare, didn’t blink. At this point, she was getting more confident. Probably because, as dangerous as the area around her apartment was, she was someplace familiar, and close to getting out of the car. In other words, wherever he was going with this, she was going, too. Two weeks was all that separated her from heaven and hell. “Yes.”

“Most people wouldn’t admit that,” he commented, not hiding his surprise. “They’d be afraid of looking foolish.”

“There are worse things than looking foolish,” she countered quickly. “You didn’t answer my question. Why would the book have the Star of David on it if it’s written in some underworld language?”

A hint of a smile played on his lips. As if he wasn’t used to being pressed, and found it mildly engaging. “The book is believed to prophesy certain ‘chosen ones’ here on earth, enemies of the Underworld. Solomon was one of those chosen ones. They say there is another who replaced him in present day. The legend says he is a great leader of Demon hunters – The Knights of White."

She could barely breathe. “Do you believe this leader exists? These Knights of White?”

His voice held a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe,” he said. “But are they to be trusted simply because this book calls them ‘chosen’? At the core of humanity is temptation, good and evil in everyone and everything. Look at the fallen Angels, the watchers who fell easily to the sins of man. Solomon himself turned away from God. I’ve learned, Kresley, to wait for trust with all those I come in contact with and to reserve judgment. Everything is not always as it seems. I never assume a friend or an enemy.” His voice lowered, turned lethal with promise. “On the other hand, I vehemently vow to be the deadliest of enemies to those who cross me.”

Kresley felt the wind knocked out of her lungs. That was a warning and it was meant for her. Her mouth turned to cotton, words gone. Thankfully, she was saved from biting it off in an effort to speak when the driver interrupted. “Sir,” he said. “Your meeting.”