Sweet Ruin (30 page)

Was the chick angling for Rune to screw her?
Would
he?

“It’d be worth a small favor,” he said smoothly. “I can find a demon on my own, but I’m asking you ladies in order to save time. Which also means I can’t linger here as I normally would.”

Jo could just imagine him
lingering
. How would a one-man orgy work? Would it be a nymph free-for-all? Maybe they lined up the way they had in the courtyard. Her fangs sharpened with aggression.

As much as she liked Rune, she would never share a man. So unless he could keep it zipped, she’d have to move on. Which might be a problem if they were linked by destiny and all.

She reminded herself that nothing mattered more than freeing her brother. Soon Thaddeus would be in Jo’s life again. If he was like her, she’d teach him everything she knew about ghosting and telekinesis. They’d learn the rest together. Hope made her giddy. Her future was so freaking bright.

Why should she care if all these women were pawing Rune? Yes, Jo had a crush on him, but crushes could end.

The braid-y nymph said, “I’ll tell you, but only if you vow
to
the Lore you’ll attend our next Bacchanal.”

“Easy enough,” he said grandly. “I vow to the Lore I’ll be in attendance—unless an emergency crops up.” Tacking on that qualifier.

“You’ll wear traditional attire?” another asked excitedly.

“How could I attend a Bacchanal in anything but?” he said, slanting them all that grin.

One nymph
swooned
.

Filled with importance, the braid-y nymph said, “I know a storm demon named Deshazior. He used to be a pirate, but now he’s a transporter. He’s been all over Gaia.”

A pirate? Interesting!

“Where will he be, dove?”

“He and his crew like to hang out at a place called Lafitte’s. It’s in New Orleans.”

Rune looked puzzled, so Jo said, “I know where it is.”

Nymphs turned to her and frowned, as if they’d just become aware of her presence.

Braid-y nymph asked, “Who’s she, Rune?” No jealousy in her tone, just mild interest.

“Oh, me?” Jo buffed her black claws. “I’m just the chick who made him nut in his pants.
Twice
.”

THIRTY-SIX

M
ove . . . move . . . move. Outta my way,” Josephine ordered pedestrians as she and Rune strode through the Quarter. The sign for Lafitte’s was just ahead.

Mortals scattered. Sensing on some level she was a predator?

“Move . . . move . . . move your ass.” No polite
excuse me
from the vampire. As males made way for her, they stared, agog at her otherworldly looks and figure.

“I could lead,” Rune offered, increasingly irritated by their reactions.

“Got this. Clearly.”

He wouldn’t have thought he’d be this attracted to a brash female—especially not one who’d delighted in telling a covey he’d twice come with his pants on. Alone with her again, he’d grated, “Have your fun?” She’d shrugged.
Yes, Rune.
. . .

When the crowd thinned, she asked him, “Did you sleep with all those—what did you call them?—Nepheles?”

“Nephelae. I’m almost certain I slept with them all. I like to spread the love around. If I don’t, they feel slighted.” Important to avoid.

Hell hath no fury like a sexually neglected nymph.

Apparently he’d burned through every Dryad at Dalli’s covey except one, the comely Meliai, and she was fuming about the oversight. Before he’d left Dalli’s earlier, the nymph had stopped by, hoping to join in. When he’d blown her off, she’d told him she possessed a key that could get him around the wraiths—and she’d trade it only for sex.

His wrist rune still showed no alert from the nymphs at Val Hall. Until Nïx was in residence, the wraiths were a secondary concern. . . .

Josephine had stopped in her tracks, forcing him to turn around. “What?”

“Slighted? Spread the love? I go through cycles with you. Sometimes I think you’re the greatest thing since bagged blood. Other times, like right now, I can’t figure what I ever saw in you.” She passed him, heading toward one of the doors of the crowded bar.

He stared after her. She couldn’t lie; she’d truly meant that.

Just as information flowed
to
him, females flowed
to
him. All he had to do was be himself around them, and situations worked themselves out. Now was he to monitor everything he said?

No, no, once he started bedding the vampire, her attitude would improve. He caught up with her.

As they entered, he scanned the premises for enemies. The fey kingdom of Sylvan was a pocket realm of Gaia. Sooner or later Rune would run into either Sylvan bounty hunters or even King Saetthan himself.

He pictured his half brother’s face, one so like Rune’s own. Though Saetthan had inherited Magh’s blond hair and blue eyes, he’d gotten his tall build and features from their sire.

Saetthan was Rune’s most coveted target—of the fourteen left from Magh’s line—and considered himself a protector for the others. . . .

Rune spied no fey within, but in the shadowy back of the bar, a garrulous gang of five demons sat at a table. Each had a different shape to his horns, indicating his species.

“I believe that’s our contact.” Rune nodded toward the biggest one. The male had a colossal chest and the large forward-pointing horns of a storm demon. When standing, he’d be over seven feet tall.

Josephine breathed, “I’m going to meet a real-live demon.” Her steps quickened.

Rune followed. “You’ve
been
with a real-live demon. I’m half demonic, remember?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have wicked cool horns like that dude.”

I should.
Rune had wished for them his entire life, just as he’d wished for red demon blood.

His gaze roamed over the vampire. What if his blood
were
red? As much as she loved baneblood, how could she crave another kind more? What if baneblood
specifically
attracted her? Later, he would demand to know which kind she preferred.

At the table, Rune addressed the storm demon, “You’re Deshazior?”

“Aye, that’d be me,” he said with an undeniable piratic accent. His huge paw of a hand curled around a tankard of brew.

“We heard you can assist us with travel.”

Deshazior ignored him, turning in his chair to face Josephine. “Are ye lookin’ for a ride, me beauty?” A thorough perusal of her body accompanied his words.

Rune did not appreciate this. Deshazior had to assume she was with Rune. At best, the demon’s open interest was disrespectful. At worst, it could be taken as a sign of hostility against Rune.

“Yes, we are,” she said.

The demon stood, far too close to her, then held out a paw. “I’m Deshazior. You can call me Desh.”

She shook his hand, his swallowing hers. “Josephine,” she said, craning her head up, seeming enthralled by the male. “You can call me Jo.”

Jo?

“Ah, me lovely Jo, let’s mosey outside and talk.” He finally released her hand. “I need to know where and when I can take ye.”

Really, demon, double entendre?
As if this pirate had game!

Neither paid attention to Rune as they turned toward the exit. Nearing the doorway, Josephine said, “Oh, duck! You don’t want to hit your horns.”

Deshazior slanted her a heated look. “And she’s considerate to boot?”

Sheltered or not, she must know a mere reference to a demon’s horns could be construed as an invitation!

On the street, Deshazior gestured toward Rune. “I figure him for a fey. But what might ye be?”

“I’m a vampire.” She would tell the demon that, yet she refused to reveal basic information to Rune.

“Never had much use for vampires,” Deshazior said, “till I met a l’il bit named Jo, me first female one.” He waved from her toes to her head, asking, “Are ye all this eye-catchin’?”

She beamed, her smile dazzling. “Are demons all so charming?”

Deshazior leaned in even closer. “I’ve been hard on yer species in the past; teach me the error of me ways.”

She leaned in as well, eyeing him. “Do it again, bilge rat, and I’ll bite you smartly, then keelhaul your hide.”

Deshazior put his paw over his heart and breathed, “Blow. Me. Down.”

She chuckled.
Chuckled!
“I speak
Pirates of the Caribbean
.”

Rune was all but forgotten.

“Where would such a winsome vampire need to be goin’? ’Cause I’ll trace ye across the worlds.”

Rune interjected: “We need to go to China. To Mount Hua.”

Deshazior told Josephine, “Ye’re in luck. Been all over that country. I can put ye straight at the base.”

“All over?” she asked. “No one ever asks you about your horns?” Mentioning them again!

“See me T-shirt?” It was emblazoned with the words
Big Easy Casting.

She tilted her head. “I see it.”

“Folks think I’m wearin’ prosthetics for a movie.”

“Oh, cool. They’re really big,” she said, which turned the demon on, those horns growing. Her eyes went wide. “That’s wild! Can I touch them?”

Rune’s jaw slackened.

Deshazior couldn’t dip his head fast enough. “Woman, make me dreams come true!”

“That’s enough,” Rune cut in. “We’re running out of time.” They were in no way running out of time.

“Rain check?” Josephine asked.

Voice gone low, Deshazior said, “Oh, decidedly, luv.”

Jo was digging Desh!

Not like she did Rune, but she felt a curiously strong pull toward the affable demon.

Desh was handsome in a supernatural linebacker-y way, and his accent was kind of sexy. His horns were even more badass up close.

When he grinned down at her, she gazed up at him with a puzzled smile. For someone who pretty much hated everybody, she had a good feeling about this guy. She could almost imagine she was making a friend.

Her first!

So many things were beginning to change in her life. The future spread out so brightly. . . .

Yet while she’d taken an instant liking to Desh, Rune and the demon seemed to hate each other on sight.

“Name your bloody price,” Rune demanded.

Was the dark fey jealous? Or was this another instance of Rune not playing well with anyone who had a dick? She suspected the latter.

“The lady’s ride is gratis.” Desh didn’t back down an inch. “Ye’ll be payin’ me a gold doubloon—or she goes alone.”

Jo muffled a laugh.

With narrowed eyes, Rune took a coin from his pocket, flipping it to the demon.

Desh caught the piece, seeming to weigh it. “It’s good gold.” He sank a fang into the edge. “It’s
old
gold. Where ye from, stranger?”

Rune’s lips drew back. “A place where demons mind their own business.”

Jo glared at him.

“Ye look like a fey, but ye’re barin’ the fangs of a demon. Should’ve known by yer eyes.” Desh frowned at her. “Ye understand he’s a scurvy baneblood, luv? Walkin’ poison and poxy bad luck to boot. If ye’re thirsty, the blood of a storm demon”—he pounded his broad chest—“is stout and hearty. I’m a thousand years old, so I’d be aged like fine wine.”

Rune bit out, “What the fuck is this, demon? We’re here to transact.”

Desh turned to him. “I see no mark upon her neck.”
Mark?
“If ye reckon she’s yer mate, I’ll respect that. Otherwise, she’s fair game. The fairest.”

Rune didn’t believe dark fey got mates, much less that Jo was his. So how would he answer that challenge?

“She’s not my mate.” Rune squared his shoulders. “But she’s in
my
bed.” Then he added, “Currently.”

Her flare of excitement fizzled. Currently. One of his qualifiers—to indicate she wouldn’t
always
be in his bed.

Dickwad!
Jo told Desh, “We’re not exclusive at all. Earlier today, we were discussing how
un
exclusive we are. He insists on it. We haven’t even slept together.”

Rune grated, “Yet.”

Jo ignored him. “Ever.”

“Good to know. I’ll be givin’ ye me number.”

“Awesome! Or stop by my digs. I live not far from here at the Big Easy Sleeps.” She pointed over her shoulder.

“No shite? The Big Sleazy.” He laughed.