Demon Storm: Belador book 5 (35 page)

“It wasn’t my doin’ entirely. You had a champion. I knew Hanhau when he was a boy destined for ruin. Had he found someone who fought for him the way your champion has for you, he might have been saved.”

Storm knew Garwyli’s words were the truth.

No one would ever be equal to his Evalle.

“Let an old man go home,” Garwyli said, scratching his chin. “I’ll inform Macha that Storm’s soul was returned and it would be a blow to the Belador reputation should someone not inform VIPER of such to prevent any mishaps.”

That meant even Sen would not be able to take a shot at Storm out in the open. The liaison for VIPER had already tried to crush Storm’s jaguar once when there’d been no witnesses present.

But that was because Sen hated Evalle and Storm had stepped between them. It was bound to happen again, but this time Storm would be ready for Sen.

“Good night to ya.”  Garwyli shimmered with blue sparkles, then vanished.

With the old guy gone, Storm drew Evalle around to face him. “I owe you an apology. Several, in fact.”

She looked away, but not before the hurt slid through her gaze. “It’s okay. I know you said a lot of things you didn’t mean as a demon.”

Touching her chin to turn her face to him, Storm searched for a way to repair the damage he’d done. He would never be able to make up for what she’d gone through and what she’d sacrificed, but he could give her the honesty she deserved.

“I wasn’t telling you the truth when I said I couldn’t feel anything and that I wanted you to go away. Even while my Ashaninka blood ruled me, you kept breaking through the cold emptiness inside me with your relentless determination. I said that I would have killed you if you had turned into a demon. That was a lie, too.”

Her eyes widened then squinted in suspicion. “How did you lie without it harming you?”

“I felt twinges, but with my demon blood ascending, my body had no problem with me lying so the consequences were minor compared to what it was like before and would be again now.”  He stroked his hand over her hair. “I will forever regret the pain I caused you regardless of thinking I was doing my best by you when I tried to make you leave me. I also need to apologize because I failed to tell you that we’re ... mated. I shouldn’t have–”

Grabbing the collar of his shirt, she pulled his mouth to hers for a kiss that burned with hunger.
Holy mother of
...

When their lips parted, she licked hers and said, “Of course we’re mated and I’m not the least bit unhappy about that even though I’m not sure exactly what it means. You’ll explain it to me. I forgive you all the rest if you promise to never do it again.”

“I promise and, as for being mated, it means you’re mine. Forever.” Storm scooped Evalle into his arms.

“And you’re mine.”  She chuckled when she’d normally be barking at him for acting like a caveman. “Decided to finally go back in the house?”

“No.”  He laid her down on the blanket and straddled her hips, sitting on his knees.

“Uh, Storm.” She laughed, green eyes glowing in the dark night. “I know it’s hard for humans to see in pitch dark, but what about everything else that rambles around at night?”

He had her shirt off and reached for the zipper on her jeans. “No one will see us as long as we stay on the blanket. I put a spell over it when I planned to sleep out here.“ He paused, thinking of their last time together. “I
was
out of control ... in the shower. That won’t happen again. I’m going to love you the way you deserve.”

He’d majik up a condom from the house and hope nothing came of that one time they hadn’t used protection. Not that he had anything against children, especially with Evalle, but she had a lot of life to live first.

“Is the demon gone from your blood?”

He stilled and let the red glow roll over his eyes then returned his gaze to its natural state. “I will always carry both bloods in my body, but I regained control after locking my power with yours to bring back Brina. I am now fully in control instead of the other way around, even more so with my soul returned.”

“So no replay of what happened in the shower?”

“No. I won’t ever lose control like that again with you.”

Evalle reached up and ran her fingers through his hair that had tumbled free from the leather thong. Her lips twitched with a saucy smile that turned into a sexy pout he’d never seen on her before. “See, I don’t remember our shower as you being out of control. I think of it as finally getting a look at just what I’ve been missing with you being so careful around me.”  She lifted an eyebrow of pure challenge. “But if that was too much for you or you don’t think you can handle another round of–”

“Ever the hellion.”  He leaned down to kiss those sexy lips while he got busy unclipping her bra and baring her breasts to his eager fingers. “Mercy. How did I end up with the most beautiful woman in the world?” 

She smiled, a gift he’d never take for granted.

He touched her tightly budded nipples and dragged a moan of pleasure from her. He pulled away from her mouth just long enough to warn, “Don’t expect to walk for a week.”

“Talk, talk, talk. Is that all you can do with that mouth?”  She ran her hands over his chest.

He reached down and slipped his hand inside her jeans, fingering her damp heat until she lifted off the blanket.

When she sucked in enough air to come back to earth, Evalle started unbuckling his belt with impressive speed, but then she
was
a Belador. Her eyes flicked up at the sky for a moment, then back to her task.

He assured her, “I’ll have you home before daylight even if it kills me to leave this blanket.”

“What’s with the blanket outside? You have a bout of camping fever?”

“Not even. The house smells of the witch doctor whose name we will not speak tonight.”  He pushed Evalle’s shirt off her shoulders. “I’m not spending another minute in that place with her taint floating in the air. I’m sure as hell not taking you around it again.” 

She sat back on her elbows, some important debate going on behind those bright green eyes. “How do you feel about living in an underground apartment with a small gargoyle?”

He bent down and kissed her, just because he could when he’d never expected to be able to again. When he broke the kiss, he studied the face he was sure he’d need a lifetime to memorize. “I can live anywhere with you, I just can’t live without you. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to show you how much you mean to me.”

She smiled with contentment. “Just do me a favor and don’t worry about me not being able to go outside in sunlight, okay?”

“Okay.” He hadn’t actually lied to her. He wasn’t going to waste time worrying when he could do so much more.

There was plenty of time tomorrow to start working on what he had in mind.

For now, he’d show her what it was like to make love for hours under the stars.

A
fter finally earning her place among the Beladors, Evalle is navigating the ups and downs of her new life with Storm when she’s sucked into a power play between her Belador tribe and the Meb coven.  Both groups claim possession of the Alterants-turned-gryphons, especially Evalle, as an influx of demons and dark witches into Atlanta threatens to unleash a war between covens, pitting allies and friends against each other.  A legendary majik known as Witchlock escalates the conflict while driving powerful beings mad, forcing Evalle to put her own sanity at risk to save her loved ones, or Atlanta will fall. 

“I
adore the city of Savannah. . .but this story reveals a side of it I’ve never explored! With incredible imagery, Love has created not just another Savannah, but another world.”  ~~ Sandra Brown

Devon Fortier eased forward through pitch-black passages where death waited for foolish humans in Savannah, Georgia’s forgotten underground.

He was neither foolish nor human.

Deep voices growled up ahead in what had once been a rum cellar. The argument echoed off the packed-dirt walls that seeped water. Dank odors of rot, urine and unearthly creatures clogged every breath Devon inhaled.

Creeping closer, he made out three shapes hunched around something on the ground that cast an orange glow across the trio of predators. Two were ten feet tall. One had scaly skin and the other had pointed ears that curled up to his bald head.

Trolls.

Devon’s informant looked to be spot on about some black market deal going down with trolls in this coastal city.

The third figure appeared to be a human male of average height. But he was probably a glamour-concealed troll.

Whatever those three had pinned down snarled, “Let me go you stinkin’ vermin!”

Devon sighed, recognizing the voice. He ought to let the trolls continue.

A fourth-generation leprechaun and pawnbroker, Coldfinger had just enough majik to be dangerous. A sick piece of work the world wouldn’t miss if the trolls wanted to finish him off.

But Devon’s oath as a Belador meant he had to protect everyone—even a slimy bastard with the integrity of a jackal—if those trolls decided to chow down on orange fast food.

He moved closer for a better view.

Curly-ears held his prey in place with a four-toed foot as wide as a briefcase. He shook his head at Coldfinger. “You think faerie dust is gonna cut it? Think you can screw us?”

Trading faerie dust was illegal, but a petty infraction of VIPER laws. Not enough for Devon to risk his skin arresting three carnivorous beings. He couldn’t spend much energy on this bunch when nothing here fit the profile of a major operation.

Beladors served as one of the enforcement arms for VIPER, an international league of warriors that protected the world from supernatural predators...like trolls.

And deadly leprechauns.

“How dare you accuse me of scamming,” Coldfinger whined in a voice bloated with insult.

Devon rolled his eyes. How could someone with no conscience be insulted?

All the trolls started yelling, threatening to dismember Goldfinger.

Baldy bared his fangs. “We got you the scrying dish. Where’s the spell?”

“You lying ‘chaun.”

Devon used the cover of their voices to close the thirty feet that had separated him from the argument.

Coldfinger’s voice tiptoed up an octave with fear. “Calm down, I got it. I got the Noirre Fixit spell.”

Oh, hell, no
.
Noirre
majik
definitely
fit the profile of his black market investigation. Devon had no choice but to take all of them to headquarters now...
if
they didn’t kill him.

Trolls were a nasty bunch who ate their opponents, which left no evidence and made it hard to try them in a Tribunal court. Devon could attempt to call in Belador reinforcements, but he had faulty telepathic ability at best, especially underground. No worries. He might have gotten shorted in the telepathy department, but his other gifts were just fine.

Besides, lowering his personal shields to call Beladors would blow his element of surprise.

Murdering trolls had no business getting their hands on Noirre majik, especially a fixation spell that could freeze a person long enough to do harm. As the deadliest of black majik, Noirre carried a high penalty for dealing, even death.

Human law enforcement didn’t know VIPER or supernatural beings existed. Handling trolls, leprechauns and Noirre fell to agents like Devon.

He paused. Most trolls wouldn’t touch Noirre since few of them were powerful enough to control it.

Ah, hell. Could these be Svart Trolls?

Only if the gods really wanted to piss on Devon’s day.

The Swedish term for black,
Svart
trolls were preternatural black ops mercenaries.

Reaching over his shoulder, Devon slid his short sword from the leather sheath attached to his back.

Bullets only annoyed Svarts.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find you, Lambert?” a throaty female voice called out from the other side of the trolls.

Devon stilled. No way.

He leaned right to see past the criminals. One look confirmed he had the worst luck ever handed out in this world.

Joleen Mac, a pain-in-his-ass bounty hunter whose four-inch heels on black lace-up boots boosted her height to just under six feet. Viper-tongue-red lipstick accented lips that could sink a man to his knees when she smiled—or issue a deadly spell. Black hair flashed past her shoulders, two long braids slicing down the side of her face. Scary as she was gorgeous, Jo worked for Dakkar, a rogue mage who ran a bounty hunter operation. VIPER allowed Dakkar freedom of movement as long as Dakkar’s hunters didn’t interfere with official missions.

Like this one.

Devon’s recon mission just turned official with Noirre being traded and Svart Trolls congregating. But he needed backup on this and he had no way to reach anyone from down here.

Lambert, the troll in human glamour, grinned. “Jo, baby. Good to see ya. We got business?”

“You could say that.” Joleen stepped close to the group. A tangerine glow washed across her loose-hanging rawhide coat, saddle-brown leather vest and jean shorts. She held a compact weapon with a short, squat barrel built to shoot two-inch-thick rounds that could kill a demon.

Devon had seen that weapon once before.

She pointed the muzzle at Lambert. “You’re coming with me.”

The two big trolls stared at her with bright yellow eyes and green saliva dripping from their lips. They growled low with menace.

“No, he’s not going with you,” Devon said, stepping from the shadows. He dropped his personal shields, allowing his power to radiate. Call it male arrogance, but he wanted the first shot at intimidating the trolls...and he liked the way Jo’s cheeks flared with color when his power brushed across her skin.

“Stay out of this, Devon,” she warned in a voice spiced with French influence.

“
Alll
-right, now we’re talkin’,” Coldfinger said, enthusiasm bubbling. “What say we all go topside, grab a brew and discuss this like sociable folks.”