Meljean Brook: Demon Marked

Soon, she’d go back to normal.

At the back of her mind, the darkness suddenly eased. Not so much hidden pain. A deep, feral joy. Michael, climbing free.

Finally.

From behind her, she heard the sharpness of Khavi’s indrawn breath. It must have been nice, watching everything that she’d worked for become true. No matter who it hurt, no matter who paid in blood and pain and the horrifying sacrifices they ended up making—

“I did not see this coming,” Khavi said.

An enormous, terrifying figure rose in the distance, amber scales glistening. Fire roared. Taylor heard the screams begin again, flying toward her, almost with wings of their own. Demons took to the sky, desperately trying to flee. A rush of fire caught them, sent them spinning, burning to the ground.

“A dragon?” Instinctively, she drew back. No need to run, not yet. “Did it break through from Chaos?”

“No.” Khavi’s gaze followed the dragon up, up. “That’s Michael.”

Michael?

The dragon dove, began banking toward them.

“Taylor, teleport now.”

“But—”

“Trust me.”

Taylor didn’t. She wouldn’t ever trust Khavi again, but as another roar of fire roasted a swath of fleeing demons in a path toward them, she saw Khavi’s point.

She called upon the power of Michael’s Gift . . . and got nothing. It was there, in the back of her mind. She could feel it. She couldn’t use it. A tumble of emotions rioted through the space he used to occupy, but there was only one rising above all the others.

Hunger.

Oh, Jesus. Taylor stumbled back, searched for the Gift again and again. “He won’t let me go!”

And was it just her, or was that dragon coming really fucking close?

Khavi’s Gift rolled out. The dragon shrieked. Enormous wings folded against its back, and he dove.

Straight toward her.

“Khavi!”

The woman grabbed Taylor’s hand—and they were standing in Caelum, watching Michael’s temple fall. Columns cracked. Marble walls buckled and collapsed, crashing together in a billowing plume of pale dust.

Taylor pushed her hands into her hair, tried to push her brains back in. That had not just happened. Had it?

And what now?

One person would know the answer to that question. Taylor spun around to face Khavi. “You used your Gift. What did you see?”

Mouth open in shock, Khavi shook her head. “I didn’t see anything in its future at all.”

Oh, God. So, the oldest and most powerful Guardian, the man stuck in her brain, had become a hungry dragon . . . and they had no idea what was coming next.

Was that strange or normal? Taylor couldn’t decide if it even mattered. She only knew that she wasn’t free.

Not yet.

Either the meeting in Caelum had run longer than the Guardians had anticipated or Nicholas was Enthralled again.

Last week, only a few hours after they’d returned from Hell and Pim had healed the stab wound in Ash’s back, the sparkle of broken glass against asphalt had kept him in the Special Investigations’ parking lot for almost forty-five minutes. There hadn’t been another Enthrallment since—and even if there had been, Ash trained during the same twelve hours that he did, so she’d always been there to make certain the infrequent Enthrallments didn’t leave him vulnerable as they traveled between the warehouse and their apartment downtown.

Not today. She couldn’t travel to Caelum with him, and the warehouse was empty of Guardians, so she’d remained at the penthouse and worked, instead.

Now she worried—an emotion still new to Ash, and one that, rationally, she knew shouldn’t be affecting her. He’d make it home. Of that she had no doubt. The Guardians took care of their own . . . and the halflings that they called their own.

Standing in her private rooftop garden, Ash searched the cloud-darkened sky one last time. She loved the height of the building—at night, she could easily fly off the edge without attracting notice, and soon Nicholas would be able to come and go as he pleased, too. Now, she hoped to see the approach of a Guardian bringing him in, but aside from the distant planes and nearer birds, the sky was empty.

With a sigh, she forced herself to return inside. Sparsely furnished, simplistic, and a little rustic, the penthouse wasn’t as slickly decorated and no longer looked as contemporary as the day she’d moved in, but Ash liked it. All that she and Nicholas needed was an office and a bed—and the bed was usually optional.

So was the floor, the bath—and once, the ceiling. If there was one thing to be said for her demon form, her talons could cling .

The ding of the elevator made her pause in the middle of the living room. Nicholas. Her heart began pounding, anticipation building a slow burn through her veins. Would she always feel this with him?

God, she hoped so.

But for now, a quick plot: She would keep her distance from him until he couldn’t stand the separation any longer. How long would it take?

Not long, she thought. Not long at all.

She vanished her clothes as he came through the door—mussed. What the hell? They hadn’t been training today. He’d left looking like Stone Cold St. Croix, and now his tie was askew, his hair slightly disheveled.

“Is everything all right?” Forgetting her plot, she went to him, instead. “Did you run into a demon? Did the Guardians have a brawl in Caelum?”

Shaking his head, he grinned and closed the door, leaned back against it with his hands in his pockets. Playing hard to get? She could win this. Ash pressed up against him, lifted her mouth to his neck and began to nibble.

“No, that went well,” he said, and his voice was a delicious reverberation against her lips. “The whole place is still rubble, and we’ve started a revolution among the novices. Now that they have nowhere to go in Caelum, they all want their own apartments instead of being stuck at the warehouse twenty-four seven.”p>

Good for them. “Most of them are older than us, anyway. And Michael?”

“Still a dragon, as far as anyone knows. Khavi mentioned using Taylor as bait. Taylor wasn’t thrilled.”

“I’m not surprised.” Ash breathed in—stopped short. “Why do you smell like dog?”

His laugh shot out, echoing in the room. “Would you believe that I was Enthralled by one?”

“No, not really.” She pulled back to look at him. Beneath the laughter lay something else. The love, she recognized. Not the shame. “What happened?”

“I went to a shelter.” He closed his eyes, tipped his head back against the door. “I planned to bring home a puppy for you. And I found one, a little Jack Russell. God, it was almost like Enthrallment. He licked my face and I fell half in love with him right there in the kennel. But then I realized—I couldn’t.”

Something inside her froze. But he wouldn’t think that she’d hurt it—he didn’t believe that any more. Did he?

“Why couldn’t you?”

Something in her voice must have betrayed her. His eyes flew open, suddenly blazing blue. He caught her face in his hands, shook his head. “No. Not that. Never that.”

Her throat felt thick. “Then why?”

“Ash . . . I swore I’d never hurt you again. Ever. But a dog won’t live forever. In fifteen, twenty years, you’re going to be hurting like hell, just because I brought a puppy home today. I can’t do that to you.”

“Oh.” Now the ache moved from her throat to her chest, so sweet, so perfect. “It’ll hurt. But I think I’d rather have fifteen or twenty years with him. I think he’d prefer that, too.”

Nicholas slipped her hair behind her ear, studying her face. “Are you certain? I’ll call them now, and we’ll go back tomorrow morning. You can see him first before you decide.”