The Order Boxed Set (24 page)

He nodded. “Something like that. Except it tends to be hereditary with shifters, they belong from birth.”

They were silent for a moment. “Can you tell me about my mother?” she asked Jamie.

“Anything.”

“What was she like?

“Her name was Lillian. She was a fae princess, but different from most of the fae. She was sweet and good.”

“And Aunt Kathy. Do you know how they came to meet? What happened?”

“Your mother met Kathryn not long before you were born. Kathryn took her in when she was alone. They became good friends. When Kathryn was killed in a car accident your mother had her brought back.”

“The perfect guardian,” Christian said softly. “It might not have been much of a life, but it was surely better than the alternative. Or at least seemed better at the time. I wonder if she came to regret the decision.”

“No, she didn’t. She loved Tara.”

“I know that,” Tara said. “So you were with my mother before. Do you know what happened to her? Who my father was?”

Jamie flicked a glance at Christian then back to her. “No. She never spoke of him. Ever.”

Christian came to stand over him. “But you knew he was a demon, right?”

Jamie nodded. “I was there at the birth. It was pretty obvious Tara wasn’t human. Then there were the rules—the alcohol one was a dead giveaway.”

“What exactly does alcohol do to demons?” Tara asked.

“It lowers their inhibitions,” Christian said. “It brings their inner demon to the surface. They’re quite good at being…well good if they want to, but give a demon a drink, and you can guarantee pure carnage.”

Sometime soon, Tara would sit down and have a long chat with Jamie. But right now, she had other things to consider. She was half-demon and half-fae, but the truth was she had no clue what that meant.

She still felt normal, but maybe she’d never felt normal in the first place. What did it feel like to be a demon? Both men watched her closely. Jamie obviously worried, Christian looked—she searched his face. At first glance, he appeared expressionless, but closer inspection showed his eyes gleamed—he looked hungry. Her heart sped, the blood pumped in her veins until it throbbed just below the surface of her skin. She remembered the feel of him piercing her body and liquid heat pooled between her thighs.

Christian breathed in deeply as though sensing her arousal. His eyes broke contact, dropped to her throat, and she raised her head slightly, tempting him. His gaze fell lower, lingered on the tips of her breasts, hard and tight under her T-shirt, and down to the junction of her thighs. His lips were slightly parted, and he stroked his tongue over the tip of one sharp white fang. She squirmed on the seat.

Jamie cleared his throat and the sound broke the spell.

“I think I need to be somewhere else,” Jamie muttered.

Tara felt out of control, as though she had no say in her body’s responses. It knew what it wanted and wouldn’t be denied.

Jamie edged away.

“No,” she said.

“No?” Christian repeated and his voice was low, smoky, seductive. She swayed toward him but pulled herself up short.

“No. Chloe is dead, and I want to find her killers. I want to know what I am. Why everyone wants to kill me. What have I ever done to them?”

She thought he was about to argue, but the tension left his body, and he relaxed. “You’ve done nothing, but the fae probably want to kill you because you’re of mixed blood. They guard their blood jealously, and it gives you the power to enter both their world and the world of the demons.”

“Like I’d want to.” She considered what he’d said. “So why do the demons want me?”

“Probably for that very reason—you have the power to enter the Faelands.” Christian sighed. “It goes back a long time, before the Accords, when both fae and demons moved freely on the earth. They’ve always been enemies. At that time, there were constant wars and they were in danger of destroying the earth and all mankind, so the Shadow Accords were signed. It allocated lands on either side of the earth to each race and ensured that neither could enter each other’s territories. The Order was set up here to ensure that the two races abided by the Accords.”

“And do they?”

“On the whole, they stay put. Demons make the occasional foray onto the earth and the fae keep to themselves. As long as they don’t cause trouble and are discreet, we do nothing. Every so often things get out of hand and trigger a war. The last was just before you were born. Probably how you were born, as there would have been numbers of demons and fae around. They were all sent back, and the portals closed, but they always find new ways through.”

“So are demons bad and fae good?”

“Demons are,” Christian thought for a moment, “impulsive, elemental, they act first and think later. They can be very strong, and they love to fight. They also love the fae women and were notorious for taking them before the Accords.”

“So one of them took my mother.”

He shrugged. “I presume so. The fae would take the women back, but they considered any offspring to be abominations. They were given the right to destroy them as part of the Accords.”

“So the Order wants me dead as well.”

“I promise you, no one will touch you. You’re mine, and I keep mine safe.”

“So what about the fae, what are they like?”

“Proud, beautiful and they can do magic.”

“What sort of magic?”

“All kinds. It’s thought witches and warlocks have fae blood, though the fae would deny it.”

“So if the fae have magic, why did my mother need to go to the warlock?”

“She probably didn’t have enough strength left. Like any race, some are more powerful than others, and their powers differ. Some can see the future, some the present, and some can keep things hidden. It’s a sort of glamour; it hides what a thing truly is and makes it seem to be something else, but to do that for all these years takes a lot of power.”

“Your mother was a necromancer,” Jamie said. “She could bring life to the dead.”

“That explains Aunt Kathy. But I have none of these powers. I’m not super strong, and I can’t do magic.”

“My guess is the talisman suppressed the qualities it was designed to hide,” Christian said. “Given time your true self would emerge.”

“Only I’m not going to be given time.” Anger and frustration built inside her. Why couldn’t they leave her alone to get on with her life? She slammed her fist down on the table beside her. “It’s not fair!”

Jamie jumped.

Christian just raised an eyebrow. “Since when has life been fair?”

“My best friend is dead. The things that did it are out there, maybe waiting to get me and do the same as they did to Chloe.” Jamie flinched, but she carried on. “What am I supposed to do, sit around twiddling my thumbs, waiting for someone to come along and finish me off? Well I’m fed up with doing nothing.”

Now Christian looked amused and that shot her temper ten degrees higher. Jamie inched away and moved around the back of the sofa, putting it between them.

“Did I mention demons have tempers?” Christian said.

Tara got to her feet and crossed the room to stand in front of him. She only came up to his shoulder. Whoever heard of a miniature demon? She poked him in the chest. “I want to do something.”

Christian sighed. “We are doing something. I’ve put out the word for whoever is after me. That will lead us to the people who took your friend. I’ll find them, and I’ll kill them. Then I’ll sort something out with the fae.”

Tara shook her head. “You’re not getting it. I don’t want
you
to sort everything out. I want to do this myself. Chloe was my friend. I don’t want to wait around for you to make everything right. This is my life.”

“You’re no match for any of the things coming after you. Trust me.” He combed his fingers through her hair. A sensation of calmness washed over her, but she didn’t want to be calm. What could she do?

Searching the room, her gaze caught on a small table by the window, with a decanter and glasses. Christian’s eyes followed her every movement as she marched up to the table, picked up the decanter, and pulled out the stopper. Raising it to her nose, she breathed in deeply, and the sharp tang of alcohol filled her nostrils. She poured an inch of amber liquid into the bottom of one of the glasses.

“Tara?”

“Yes?”

Christian no longer looked amused. Across the room, Jamie gripped the back of the sofa, his knuckles white.

“What are you doing?” Christian asked.

She smiled and raised the glass. “Releasing my inner demon.”

Part Three

Redefining Normal

Chapter Twenty-Three

Tara stared at Christian over the rim of the glass, and something flickered in his eyes.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he said.

“No, Tara,” Jamie muttered. “It’s a very, very bad idea.”

Instead of worrying her, the tremor in Jamie’s voice filled her with a wild sense of exhilaration.

She was fed up with being safe.

She’d tried her hardest to be normal, but maybe it was time to accept that she wasn’t cut out for normality after all.

She put the glass to her lips and swallowed. The liquid burned her throat like fire.

“Jamie,” Christian said, “get out of here, and tell Graham to lock down the office.”

The words seemed to come from a long way off.

She expected to see horror on Christian’s face. Instead, his eyes were hot and hungry and filled with a deep excitement. She took a slow step toward him.

“Now, Jamie!” he snarled, never taking his eyes from her.

She was vaguely aware of Jamie scuttling across the room, and the door slamming behind him, but took no notice. Her whole consciousness filled with the vampire and with the inferno in her belly. She needed to do something. Anything. She just didn’t know what. Rip something up. Rend something into bloody little pieces.

The need spread through her body, setting her on fire, the flames licking at her breasts, between her legs, and she threw back her head and screamed. It released some of the pressure and for a moment, she came back to herself.

There was a noise behind her, and she whirled. Steel shutters slid down over the windows.

“You can’t get out,” Christian said softly. “Don’t bother trying.”

She glared at him through narrowed eyes. “Neither can you.”

“Ah, but I don’t want to. I have everything I want right in here.” He sauntered toward her, circling, sniffing the air. Halting less than a foot from where she stood, he started to unbutton his shirt. He gave up halfway down, ripped it open, and dragged it off his shoulders, throwing it to the floor. “Sex and food.”

He smiled, baring his teeth. His fangs were fully elongated, and the flames roared back to life. She stared at his naked chest, the skin so pale, almost luminous, pulled tight over all that muscle. Then down to where his pants hung low on his lean hips. She couldn’t take her eyes off his flat belly, ridged with muscle, bisected by a line of black silky hair. Something shifted inside her, and she licked her lips. Christian laughed softly, and her eyes darted to his face.

“Come on, Tara, do you think you can take me? Do you want to try?”

He was goading her. He was insane.

“Come on, honey,” he murmured. “You don’t really want to fight me. You want to fuck me.”

As soon as he said the words, she knew it was true. She wanted him, hard and fierce with none of the gentleness he had shown her the last time. She wanted to unleash the monster she knew was somewhere close beneath his surface, just as her own inner monster strained to be free.

She leapt for him. He stood his ground, and she slammed into his body, hard. It should have hurt, some sane part of her mind told her to stop, but she needed this. It seemed like a lifetime of frustration was pent up inside her, and the feel of his naked skin beneath her hands drove her wild. She clung to his shoulders, her nails digging deep into his satin skin, as her legs circled his waist.

They crashed to the floor, rolling as he tore her hands from his shoulders. He turned her with one fluid move so she lay on her belly, her face pressed into the roughness of the carpet, the long, hard length of him pinning her against the floor. She bucked and writhed beneath him, fighting to get free. His breath brushed over the back of her neck, his teeth grazed her skin, settling at the point where her shoulder met the column of her throat. For a minute, he nuzzled her there, then he bit down sharply. His teeth penetrated her skin, and she went still, her breath coming in short sharp pants.

Taking advantage of her momentary stillness, he raised his body, nudged her thighs apart with his hips, and pushed himself against her core. She thrust back against him to get some relief for the fire raging through her. He was fully erect, and she could feel him pressing into her through the layers of clothing that separated them.

“What, you don’t want to fight anymore?” He whispered the words against her skin, and the need to move roared through her once again. She flung herself backwards, taking him by surprise. He rolled off her, and she scrambled to her feet. He followed her up, straightening to his full height, towering over her. Real panic penetrated the thick fog of her brain. He took a step toward her. She breathed in the hot musky scent of him, feral and wild, and the panic washed away on a tidal wave of red-hot desire.

He backed her up until the cool concrete of the wall pressed against her. Another step and he pinned her between the wall and the rock hardness of his body. She writhed against him, and he pushed forward with his hips, his erection thrusting against the soft flesh of her belly.

He stared into her eyes. His were glowing, filled with a ravenous hunger. She needed him inside her any way she could get him, and she raised her head to bare her throat.

He chuckled, and her fury roared to life again. Twisting violently against him, she raked her claws down his back and lunged, sinking her teeth into his shoulder. The blood spurted hot into her mouth, and she swallowed. For a moment, he stilled, then his hands were in her hair, his fist tightening, wrenching her head back so she stared up into his face. She licked the blood from her lips as he bent his head and kissed her savagely, forcing her mouth open. His tongue pushed into her, but it wasn’t enough and she thrust her own into his and tasted her blood as her tongue raked over the razor sharp fangs. He sucked on it greedily, and a whimper of pain and pleasure trickled from her throat.