Demon Hunter (The Collegium Book 1) Read online

  Her answer stalled on a yawn. “You never look rich.”

  “Why paint a target on my back?” He touched her cheek, thumb brushing under her eye. “You’re rambling tired.”

  “Am not.” She closed her eyes to savor the caress and woke when the SUV stopped.

  Steve jumped out, leaning back in to haul out her bag.

  She moved more slowly, testing the realization that she’d slept in his presence, unconsciously trusting him to protect them both. “I could find my own place.”

  “Forget it.” He slotted the SUV’s keys through a mail box and ran back down the steps of the apartment building. He moved beautifully, balanced and powerful, taking three steps at a stride.

  He grabbed her hand and she gave up the argument. She wanted to go home with him. He led her on a tangled run through a maze of buildings and she used her magic subtly, a dusting of confusion, to hide their path.

  The run woke her up. Blood that had flowed sluggishly from emotional shock warmed. Her skin flushed.

  They moved from shadow to darker shadow in the predawn darkness.

  The Collegium was hunting her. By her dad’s orders, they’d use her anyway they could.

  Fury, shame, betrayal, a cauldron of emotions roiled as she thought of the Collegium using demons, allying with evil to increase its power. The motto was I serve, but there was no service to humanity when you danced with devils.

  The scars the demon had left on her pulsed as if her blood had turned bitter. Pain chewed at her bones. It was grief. She had fought and bled for an institution whose actions revolted her.

  “We’re here.” Steve entered a code that got them into the steel and glass building, and pressed his hand to the bio-reader to call the elevator.

  He was a leopard. It figured his den would be high.

  It turned out to be a penthouse, occupying a corner of the top floor and furnished with expensive simplicity. The walls were white with floor-length windows and sand-colored curtains a shade lighter than the smooth bamboo floor. They were open, revealing the night cityscape. Large, comfortable furniture had the elegance of European design. Bookshelves ran along one wall with the opposite wall holding a television.

  Steve strode into the open plan living space and dropped her bag. He peeled off his leather jacket and dropped it over the back of a sofa.

  “Let me.” He took Fay’s coat and flung it after his. The skin of his face showed his tension. It stretched tight over his cheekbones, hollowing shadows.

  He had challenged the Collegium for her, not offering his protection, but insisting on it. No one ever defended her. All her life she’d been expected to be the strong one.

  She touched his chest, fingers brushing over the flannel shirt, feeling the softness, aware of the hardness underneath.

  His breathing quickened, as it hadn’t during their run.

  “I shouldn’t be here.”

  “In my lair?”

  She half-smiled, because the humor and the disregard of danger were typically Steve. He made his decisions and then he lived with them. She put her arms around him. “Hold me.”

  “With pleasure.” He picked her up, carrying her to a massive armchair that had its back to the room. He settled her in his lap, caging her in the power and sensuality of his body. One hand curved possessively over her thigh.

  With the dim lighting in the room behind them, their reflections showed ghostly over the city scene. Fay studied the tableau. They looked like lovers, with rights over one another’s bodies. She surrendered to the fantasy and rested her head against his shoulder.

  His hand slid down her thigh to her knee where his thumb moved idly.

  She hadn’t known knees were an erogenous zone.

  “I should have known it couldn’t be casual between us,” he said.

  The determination in his voice, as much as the words, jerked her out of her floating sensual daze.

  “Three nights I spent, waiting for you, wondering where the hell you were. On the way to the Collegium, I said you were mine and I meant it. But you need to know who I am before you decide. A relationship between us…wouldn’t be easy.”

  “I’ll deal with the Collegium,” she said.

  “Hell. I’m not scared of your friggin’ Collegium. And you’re not facing them alone.” His arm tightened around her shoulders. “I’m talking about me. I bring baggage, too, and mine’s not the kind that ever goes away.” His chest rose and fell sharply. “How much do you know about me, Fay?”

  “I know you’re a mercenary specializing in hostage recovery. You also do some bodyguard assignments, but never for long periods. You consult on safe passage arrangements through war zones. You’re the most lethal fighter I’ve ever seen. I respect that.” She tugged his hand to rest on her stomach and covered it with her own. “I trust you.”

  “You’ve forgotten the point most members of the Collegium would put first. I’m a were.”

  “So?”

  Weres were human, intermarrying. Nothing Fay knew of them prevented a relationship between a were and a magic user. All it meant was directing a blast of magic at Steve wouldn’t affect him at all.

  “So while weres aren’t part of the Collegium, we do have a loose social structure. Most of us are well-integrated into human society and it provides the framework for our behavior. However, our animal halves need the reassurance of a final authority. It’s not something we talk about with outsiders.”

  He paused. “We have a Suzerain, someone who carries the burden of decisions and responsibility. If a were goes rogue, he gives the order to execute. He decides conflicts of territory and renewal of traditions. The position is hereditary. The current Suzerain is my grandfather.”

  “You’re royalty?”

  “No.”

  “Too bad.” She gave his chest a mock-consoling pat. He was so tense, it worried her. She didn’t want there to be another reason for caution, a reason to end their closeness. She wanted to relax into him and let everything else go.

  “The suzerainty is passed from grandfather to grandson, skipping one generation.”

  Not royalty. She finally understood what he was saying. Heir to the throne. “You’re telling me you’re the next leader of the weres.”

  “A leader with limited powers, constantly debated and shouted at, but yes. I’ll be the next Suzerain.”

  Her muscles slumped in defeat. A casual affair with her was one thing, but without even going to bed together, they’d dived into deep water—and Steve had responsibilities. The last thing he needed in his life was the cast-off daughter of the Collegium President pursued by demons and guardians.

  He gave her a little shake. “You could at least answer me.”

  She blinked. Surely he knew he could count on her commonsense? This attraction between them couldn’t be acted on.

  “I know you’ve hated being the Collegium President’s daughter, but the Suzerainty is different. Lower profile, for a start. You hadn’t even heard of it. I’d keep the demands away from you as much as possible, but they would be there. Some weres think it’s smart to get the Suzerain’s partner onside.”

  “Steve?” She shoved against his chest, trying to straighten, but his tight hold held her against him. His eyes were topaz, glowing. Aroused. It confused her. “If you need me to agree a relationship is impossible—“

  “Not impossible. Bloody difficult. But I’d do everything to help you. We could take it slow, one step at a time, whatever you need.”

  It sunk in slowly. “You want me.”

  “Of course I do.” He exhaled in sharp frustration. “You’re in my blood. But a relationship between us would be serious. I was kidding myself thinking otherwise. You need to know me. Not Steve-your-mercenary-were, but the man who has family and dreams and responsibilities. You need to know that when you’re threatened, I’ll fight. And when I’m snarling at the world, you’ll be the one who can calm me, can pet me, can call me on my bad temper.”

  “Steve—”

&n
bsp; “And don’t even think of backing away from what’s between us because you think it’ll save me from the Collegium. Take me to your bed or don’t take me, I’m still going after the Collegium. I’m the next Suzerain. If the Collegium is messing with demons, they’re a danger to weres. Hell, they’re a danger to themselves.”

  “I don’t think the whole Collegium can be corrupt.” But she wasn’t concentrating on the words. “We’re in your home. If anyone takes anyone to bed, you have to take me.”

  “Take you?” He slid a hand under her shirt.

  The skin to skin sensation shivered through her body.

  “Decide, Fay. Can you deal with who I am?”

  “Yes.”

  Chapter 12

  “I want to make love with you,” Steve said.

  “Mmm.” Fay reached up to pull his head down to hers. Great minds thought alike. Her body craved contact with his, her skin so sensitive that the shift of fabric against it was a sensual enticement.

  “Alexandria will be safe.”

  “What?” Since he wouldn’t bend, she stretched up, intent on claiming his mouth.

  “The Suzerain’s house is in Alexandria, close to a portal, central to political routes. It’s been protected for millennia. The Collegium with all its guardians can’t get through Granddad’s defenses.”

  Her intent to kiss him froze. “You said your apartment was protected.”

  “It is, but it’s still in New York. The city is Collegium ground. You’ll be safe in Alexandria. Then we can concentrate on one another.”

  She wriggled in his lap, but with annoyance rather than desire.

  His mouth compressed and his hold tightened, preventing her attempt to escape.

  “This is not your decision, Steve. I have to stay and face the Collegium. They can’t be allowed to get away with perverting their founding purpose. They’re meant to serve. If I hadn’t burnt out my powers, I wouldn’t be here, hiding. As soon as I’m rested I have to deal with Dad and stop the Collegium dealing with demons.”

  “I know your sense of duty, Fay. I respect it. But I’m a mercenary. I calculate risks for a living. For you to stay in New York serves no purpose.”

  She pushed against his chest. “I can’t—I won’t—leave Emma to stand her word against Angus’s for what happened in the demon lab.”

  “A witness report doesn’t have to be delivered in person. Stop being emotional and think.”

  “Emotional? Me?”

  The stern line of his mouth relaxed. “Your Collegium training is cracking. You’re definitely emotional—and you’ve a right to be. Your dad—“

  “Don’t you see? He’s why I have to report to the Collegium in person. I can’t challenge the President from a distance, hiding like a coward.”

  “Retreat sounds reasonable to me. Write a report and send it to all the senior members of the Collegium. Let them know what is happening. I don’t like the Collegium, but I don’t believe it’s changed so much that they wouldn’t be horrified.”

  “The demon said the Collegium is infected.” Her hands clenched on his shirt.

  “And you’d trust the word of a demon? Even if you do, he said infected, not diseased. Give them the information to mobilize against the infection. When you know what they choose to do, then you can decide how you’ll fight.”

  Her emotional need to attack because she’d been attacked and betrayed, clashed up against her training. Logic won, but by a slim margin, and she resented Steve for forcing the conclusion on her. “Fine. I’ll leave New York.”

  “Good.”

  “But I’m not going to Alexandria.”

  She waited for his argument and was disappointed.

  “Where?”

  “You said Alexandria has a portal. Well, so does Jim, my mom’s husband. I’ll go to Fremantle, Australia.”

  Calculation narrowed his eyes, then he nodded. “We’ll go.”

  She tilted her head in challenge and question.

  “A joint report, Fay. I saw the demon, too, and Angus’s betrayal. Attempted possession is filthy. It’s my fight, too.”

  “Okay,” she said grudgingly

  “And of course, there’s the matter of love-making.”

  The heat in his gaze transformed her anger into an even more volatile passion. Her stomach muscles tightened at the stroke of his fingers. “I don’t like you much at the moment.”

  “I gathered that.” He lifted one of her hands from his shirt and kissed it before cradling it against his face.

  “I don’t like running away.”

  “I don’t like standing by while you fight. But I control my instincts to protect even when you tackle demons. Sometimes not fighting is the harder choice.”

  She melted.

  This time when she guided his head down for a kiss, he allowed it.

  Desire. Tenderness. Hunger. Need.

  His hand skimmed up her body to push aside the sensible bra and cup her breast, massaging with sensual, possessive enjoyment, while his tongue stroked into her mouth, coaxing and demanding. The hard power of his arousal pressed against her thigh.

  She wanted to part her legs and ride the ache he was creating, ride him. She might be a virgin, but that didn’t mean ignorance of her sexuality or her body’s needs, just that she’d been scared to share herself. But she trusted Steve.

  “Wait.” She broke the kiss long enough to stand and come back to him, glad for the massive chair that let her settle astride. Her head arched back at the sheer heat of pressing into him.

  He bit her throat as his hands gripped her hips. She held onto his shoulders and ground into him. He cupped the back of her head, holding her in place for a savage kiss.

  “Wildfire,” he muttered.

  She blinked, unable to focus. Sheer sensation stormed her body, blocking thought, leaving only Steve and a building tension.

  He unzipped her jeans, forcing his hand roughly between them and beneath her knickers. Pressed so close to him, she wouldn’t allow him space or time to move with finesse. She felt his fingers against her hot flesh, rode them as they stroked and bluntly entered her. She climaxed.

  Hot, desperate satisfaction, leaving the results of her burned out powers to roll over her in a wave of pleasured exhaustion. She turned her face a fraction and tasted Steve’s throat.

  He was hard and tense beneath her, but he stroked her back with slow, easy pleasure.

  She cuddled into him.

  “Don’t go to sleep,” he said.

  “Hmm?” She nuzzled the curve of his throat and lied. “I’m not.”

  His hands went to her waist and lifted her up and onto her feet. “I don’t feel like being sensible either, but if we’re leaving New York we’ve a better chance of doing so before the Collegium guardians get organized. We already know they’re watching your friend’s portal, hence the golem.”

  He waited till she was awake and steady, then crossed the room and picked up her coat. He helped her into it. She leaned back and rested against him.

  “We’re not going to Cynthia’s.” She put her hand into the pocket of her coat and her fingers brushed the shell Jim had given her. “We’ll use the Collegium’s preferred porter, Paul O’Halloran. They won’t expect me to walk into their territory.”

  “But Paul will know where we go.”

  She gripped the token. “No, he won’t. If I’m with you, he’ll assume we’re running to Alexandria.”

  “For that, we’d need to contact Faroud, the Alexandrian porter. Calling your stepfather—“

  “I don’t have to. I don’t need a porter, just access to a portal. Jim gave me a token which will guide us to Fremantle.” She paused. “According to Cynthia, Paul doesn’t know Jim’s portal exists.”

  “So the Collegium can’t track us.” Steve nodded. “That’s why they were waiting at Cynthia’s portal. Like me, they’d lost you.”

  She turned in his arms. “You won’t lose me again.”

  “For damn sure.” He kissed her.
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  Paul O’Halloran’s portal was walking distance from Steve’s penthouse, something Fay was sure he’d calculated before buying it. Fast travel was important to a mercenary—and to the heir to the Suzerainty, an element of Steve’s identity that her tired mind struggled to deal with. She put it aside to consider later. Steve was still Steve, and she trusted him.

  The Collegium-registered porter was annoyed at being woken by their unscheduled visit.

  “Put it on my account,” Steve said.

  Neither he nor Fay had sensed watchers, and Paul didn’t look as if he’d been warned to delay or report back on Fay’s actions. In fact, it didn’t look as if he recognized her. She hung back a step behind Steve, grateful that her dislike of portal travel had led her to mostly travel as mundanes did. There were worse things than airport security.

  Paul lead the way down wooden stairs to the portal, grumbling. “Your porter, Faroud, hasn’t phoned me.”

  The portal glowed green. There was a circle of river pebbles around it.

  Tokens, Fay realized.

  “We won’t need his guidance.” Steve’s hand tightened around hers. “Ready?”

  “Hey! You’ll get lost and then—“

  But Steve didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate, and Fay went with him through the portal.

  In between, her senses collapsed in the usual sickening confusion. She made herself ignore the portal-induced nausea and concentrated on the seashell in her left hand. Steve’s body bumped against hers as their joined hands towed him after her. Like her and all non-porters, within the between their senses were effectively blind.

  Blind astronauts. She slowed her breathing, aware of panic nibbling at her exhausted control.

  Steve wrapped both arms around her, never releasing her hand. She was his lifeline out of there. Without her and the token, he was lost.

  The sense of his deep trust brought her mind out of the beginnings of a spiral of panic. She hated portal travel. Hated it. But this way they’d be safe, untraceable. She concentrated again and felt the shell pull, the resistance like the lightest of threads. She groped in that direction and the thread thickened from cobweb to cotton, cotton to yarn, yarn to rope—and they were out.