Personal Demon (33 page)

I saw it all and I felt it all, the delicious chaos of destruction and death.

As I started to shake, Karl rubbed my arms, leaning awkwardly over the bed, then he sat and tugged me onto his lap. I huddled there as he whispered and stroked my hair. Was it only yesterday I’d silently cursed him for not knowing how to comfort me when Jaz and Sonny disappeared?

I let myself stay for a couple of minutes, then pushed away and wiped my eyes. As my vision cleared, I saw the last remnants of my mascara smeared across his white shirt.

“I hope you didn’t want to keep that,” I said.

He straightened his arms, the cuffs riding up his forearms. “Not really.”

I looked at the ill-fitting shirt, tear-streaked and mascara-stained, and I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

In the last few hours, I’d yelled at him, kicked him, punched him and thrown up on him, and he was still here.

Selfish? I’d never call him that again.

He pulled back the thick white comforter and sheets, and laid me down.

“I’m not really ready for bed yet,” I said.

“I know. I’m just making you comfortable. I’d offer you a drink but…”

“Not the way I like to handle things. And probably not a good habit to get into.”

“Agreed.” He paused. “A bath?”

Any other time, that would have been the right answer. There was nothing like a bath for giving me time alone with my thoughts. But tonight even thinking about being alone, I started to shake again.

“I—I don’t think I can do it, Karl.” I looked up at him, my eyes filling. “If that’s what it’s going to be like…If it’s only going to get worse…I don’t think I’m going to make it.”

The last words came out as a sob, cut off as Karl’s lips pressed against mine. His hands went to my cheeks, holding me still as he pulled back just enough to break the kiss, his lips still touching mine.

“I—I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t mean to—”

“Shhh. Here, focus on this.”

The room went dark, a vision flashing, but I pulled up straight, shaking my head hard enough to scatter the vision and knock his hands from my cheeks.

“P—please. No more. I’m sorry. I can’t handle any—”

“Shhh. Just look. It’s okay.”

The vision flickered and I tensed. Then, like peeking open one eye, I snuck a quick look.

I was crouched on a dark rooftop. At the distant roar of an engine, I walked to the roof’s edge. Far below, car lights crawled along a busy road. A horn honked. I cocked my head but around me, all was silent.

A slow survey of the rooftop. Adrenaline still surged from a narrow escape.
Too narrow,
I chided myself. I was too cocky. Took too many chances and came too close to paying the price. But it felt good. So damned good.

And I was good enough to pull it off.

A small laugh. Karl’s laugh.

My clenched fist opened and I looked down to see a black-gloved hand and, nestled in the palm, a diamond bracelet glittering in the moonlight.

“Yes?”

Karl’s voice, but disconnected from the vision, and it pulled me back into the hotel room. I was lying in the bed now, Karl stretched out beside me, his arm under my head, his face inches from mine, eyes as bright as the diamonds.

“More,” I said.

He smiled. “Are you sure? You said you didn’t want—”

“More. Please.”

He took me back under, to the rooftop, diamonds in hand, the distant wail of a siren making my heart trip with exhilaration.

Simple chaos, but my favorite kind—that mix of danger and excitement, devoid of moral quandaries. I was certain he hadn’t found the bracelet lying in the trash, but he’d been careful not to show me where it came from, letting me enjoy the aftermath without guilt.

I stepped to the edge, so close my toes rested on air. The wind caught my jacket. It rustled and billowed. A strong gust rocked me, as if tempting me to take that final step. I smiled, and backed up a few inches to crouch on the edge and survey the street below. Lights flashed to the east. Coming from the same direction as the siren? Yes.

Coming this way? Hard to tell…

The lights veered around a corner.

Yes, apparently so.

A fresh surge of adrenaline, telling me to move, but I lingered another moment, casually slipping my hand under my jacket, unzipping the inner pocket. I let the bracelet slide inside onto the small pile of others nestled at the bottom.

My pulse raced as the lights came closer, but I drew it out, waiting until the last possible moment—

The memory snapped off.

“Enough?”

Karl’s face was inches from mine and I could feel his breath, smell it, and it reminded me of what he tasted like, and I wanted—

“Is that enough?” he repeated, lips twitching.

“No,” I said hoarsely.

“You want more?” His hands slid down my shirtfront and started unbuttoning it from the bottom. “Maybe we should get you ready for bed. In case you drift off.”

There wasn’t a chance in hell of that now, and he knew it, his lips curving as my breath came in short pants.

As he spread my shirt, his thumbs brushed my nipples, and I moaned.

“More. Please.”

His hands went back to my breasts, cupping them, nipples squeezed between his fingers.

“Oh, you didn’t mean
that,
did you?”

I hadn’t, but I wasn’t complaining. I writhed, trying to get closer to him, but he locked his elbows, his hands on my breasts holding me back. His fingers plucked at my nipples, hard and rough, sending shock ripples through me.

“More,” I said.

“Of what?”

“Damn you.”

His lips pressed against mine, his body still held back even as I strained to get closer.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I won’t make you choose.”

The room dipped into blackness again as his teeth closed on my nipple and I hesitated, torn between the two worlds, perched on a rooftop, sirens growing ever closer, and lying on a decadently soft bed, feeling his tongue teasing my breast, hand sliding up my thigh. Then, slowly, they merged into one and I was on the roof, feeling what he’d felt, that delicious chaos, while his tongue and fingers and teeth satisfied the ache and stoked the fire ever higher.

The flashing lights stopped in front of the building and I knew there was no question now. Someone had sounded the alarm.

I loped across the rooftops to where I’d left the rope—

A flashlight beam pinged off the walls five stories below—in the alley, right beneath my escape route.

I surfaced from Karl’s memory, gasping as he nipped the inside of my thigh. I arched back into the pillows, spreading my legs and lifting my hips, as if he needed directions. His laugh vibrated through me.

The vision pulled me under again and I was tugging up the rope as quickly and quietly as I could, all too aware that I was removing my only escape route.

Karl’s tongue slid inside me and I called his name, my hands going to the top of his head. He chuckled again, the vibrations this time nearly sending me—

The vision surged stronger.

I had the rope. Now how to get off the roof…?

As I struggled for a backup plan, I surfed between the memory and the hotel room, wanting to see the escape to the end, lap up every bit of chaos, yet reluctant to miss one second of an amazing—

The vision yanked me back under, and this time I knew
he
was responsible, making the memory stronger whenever I was on the verge of deciding I’d rather immerse myself in the here-and-now.

I stood on the edge of the building again, this time along the side, between the street front with its flashing lights and the alley with its searchers. Someone shouted below, but I ignored it. The goal was to get off this roof before I
needed
to worry about what they were saying and the only way to do that was…

My gaze lifted to the building beside mine, then dropped to the fifteen-foot gap between the two. I laughed, and that laugh—half “are you crazy?” half “sure, why not?”—sent shivers through me. I surfaced from the vision, and those shivers turned into gasps and shudders, nails digging into the bed, his tongue and teeth doing things—

He pulled me under again and I barely had time to curse him before the vision took over.

I measured the distance between the buildings. A dozen feet? Fifteen? Miss and there was nothing to keep me from becoming a diamond-studded stain on the alley floor.

My kingdom for a backup plan.

If I splatted on the road, I’d have no one to blame but myself.

Perhaps if I returned the way I’d come up…

Another shout from below ruled that out.

I backed up ten feet, paused and made it fifteen. I stood there, heart hammering, straining to hear the voices from below.

Then I ran for the edge. At the last second, I launched. The other building seemed to loom an impossible distance away. I hit the height of my jump, started on the downturn and—

Oh, shit.

I wasn’t going to make it.

The chaos was so strong I cried out as it hit me in waves, dimly telling me it wasn’t chaos I was feeling, but I was trapped in the vision, falling, my feet dropping beneath the edge of the other building.

I’d missed—

Waves of orgasm cut off the thought. Then I felt the lip of the building cutting into my fingers. I braced before my arms jerked out of their sockets as my body came to an abrupt stop. I cried out, rocked by wave after wave, until I fell back onto the pillows, shaking. Even then Karl didn’t stop, teasing every last shudder from me.

When it finally ended, I opened my eyes to see him crouched on all fours over me, his eyes dancing.

“Done?”

I couldn’t help feel a tingle of regret that it was over. I looked down, past his open shirt, to the bulge in his pants, and smiled.

I sprang so fast he let out a grunt of surprise. Flipping him onto his back, I crouched over him.

“Not done,” I said.

His lips twitched. “More?”

I pulled his pants down just past his hips and straddled him. “Yes, more.”

That same delicious laugh from the vision filled the room.

HOPE: LAYING THE BLAME

I
lay on Karl, my head on his chest, his arms around me. His steady breathing said he’d fallen asleep.

When I lifted my head and looked around, his eyes opened.

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t asleep. I thought you were.”

“I should be but…”

“You aren’t tired. Neither am I. How about that drink then?”

“Sure. I’ll get—”

Before I could finish, he rolled me over and laid me down beside him, then swung out of bed. His pants were still around his knees and he reached down, as if to pull them up, then kicked them off and tossed them onto a chair, socks following. His shirt had disappeared at some point.

I propped myself up to watch as he crossed to the minibar, and remembered the first time I’d seen Karl shirtless. The morning after our night at the museum, I’d walked in on him fixing the bandage on his shoulder, his shirt half off. He’d jumped, pulling the shirt on as fast as a shy twelve-year-old. With Karl, it was the scars he was quick to hide—old bite and claw marks across his chest, the legacy of thirty years fighting other werewolves.

Those scars belied the smooth, sophisticated persona he cultivated, of a man who’d never stoop to anything as uncivilized as brawling. Tonight he’d shown that he was as quick with his fists as with his words, and he offered no apologies for that, but it wasn’t how he liked to be seen. I suspected he’d conducted many an affair under cover of near-darkness.

So watching him, naked, I could appreciate that I was viewing a sight rarely seen. My tastes had always tended more toward reedy Bohemian types, but Karl made me admit that I wasn’t immune to a more…masculine physique. No bulging muscles, but perfectly toned. Even the scars seemed to fit—a body for function, not show.

He crouched before the fridge and fished out bottles. As he turned, I resisted the urge to look away and let my gaze slide over him.

“You look…amazing.”

He arched his brows in genuine surprise, then lifted the bottles. “You’re supposed to say that
after
I get you drunk.”

“Am I?”

He grabbed glasses, sliding the stems between his fingers so he could carry them. “Yes, because then you can blame it on the alcohol. Otherwise you risk inflating an ego that you know needs no help.” He crossed back to me, setting the bottles and glasses on the nightstand. “And may I say in return that you look perfect.”

I looked into his eyes and knew there was no sense lying to myself anymore. I was in love with him. More than that, I loved him. It had nothing to do with what Griffin said—a chaotic man for a chaos-loving demon. Karl knew when I needed to be set on my feet with a sharp word and a kick in the butt, and he knew when I needed someone to look out for me, and coddle me and tell me that I’m perfect.

I wanted to be that for him too. I had the first part down—keeping his ego in check—but I struggled with the second. Cooking him dinner, being there whenever he called, for as long as he wanted to talk, that all came easy.

But complimenting him or even saying, “Thanks, Karl” was different. I’d worked so hard to keep things casual, so afraid of getting hurt that, even now, it was hard to drop my guard and let him know how I felt. I’d have to work on that.

I slid over to make room for him and he handed me a gin and tonic, then he got into bed, propping himself up on the pillows.

“Thank you,” I said. “For the memories.”

His brows shot up. “That sounds disturbingly like a brush-off.”

“You know what I meant.
Your
memories. The ones you…” I struggled for a word. “Projected, I guess. I didn’t know I could pick that up.”

“Neither did I, but it seemed worth a try.”

He lapsed into silence, his gaze going distant.

“I won’t pry,” I said.

“Hmmm?”

“If you’re worried I’m going to ask about those early memories, I won’t. I know you were just trying to find something to distract me.”

“Ah.”

More silence. He swirled the Scotch in his glass, frowning at it.