Come Hell or High Water Page 8

  Scrymgeour watched them fight. He yawned, blinked, and then lay down, his head on his paws as he sleepily assessed the demons trying to tear one another apart.

  I couldn’t help but stare at the glittering white demon. The iridescent scales made it shine like diamonds. It more than held its own with the other two. Fast. Dangerous. It’d punch one, kick the other, and then it swept the legs out from under the green one before slamming the yellow one in the throat.

  I scooted back into the edge of the darkness, hiding and watching. Why were they fighting one another?

  Then Glitter Boy swung the yellow demon into the green demon and I saw its face.

  Its eye sockets were dark and empty, the outer edges crusted with black blood.

  Connor.

  Bile rose in my throat. I’d seen a lot of creepy shit since becoming undead, but seeing Connor without his eyes nearly made me toss my cookies.

  He had a demon form. I don’t know why I was so surprised. Half demon was still a demon. I guess. Most demons could take other forms; easy enough for them to create a personal fiction that would appeal to whomever they were trying to trick.

  How could I have even thought I had the wherewithal to help him heal? I felt useless. I couldn’t figure out obvious deceptions, I couldn’t magically heal others, and a Chihuahua was better at fighting demons than I was.

  Feeling like a big loser, I watched Connor. Even without sight he was a formidable foe. Should I get in there, try to help him? What if he was full-on, all-the-way-bad demon? Would he know me? Or try to hurt me, too?

  I hated the uncertainty churning through me. I hadn’t been in control of my life since I invited Connor to come back to my place. I chewed on the tip of my fingernail, wincing when Booger managed to trip Connor. He went down hard, his wings folding around him.

  That was when Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum realized that a concerted attack on Connor might be a good idea.

  They leaned over him, claws extended and maws opened.

  I gathered my magic, created twin orbs of demonfire, and aimed one at each. I let go and the fireballs found their targets. They stumbled backward, roaring in frustration.

  Connor popped to his feet, and in the blink of an eye, he had his hands around each of their throats.

  He squeezed and squeezed.

  The demons gurgled, their eyes going wide and bulbous. They struggled – arms flailed, legs kicked – but it didn’t matter. Connor was far more pissed off, and much stronger.

  I didn’t want to watch, but I couldn’t turn away. I reminded myself that demons didn’t die. If their solid forms were damaged or dismembered, they returned to the Pit to regenerate. The deeper they went, the longer it took to get the veil where they could crawl back through to the earthly plane.

  Booger’s head popped off. Its one-horned, slimy skull plopped to the ground and rolled away. Brackish blood spewed from its jagged stump, spraying Connor’s neck and chest and the side of the yellow fiend still caught in his fearsome grip.

  Scrymgeour leapt off the mattress and scurried to sit by me.

  Popcornhead snapped and its skull sagged backward.

  Connor dropped the carcasses. I waited for them to disappear, but their corpses lay there like dismembered rag dolls. Popcornhead’s foot twitched, but that was it.

  That just further confirmed the theory that I was in hell. Literally.

  Connor screamed.

  Light shot out from his eye sockets and he covered his face. I guess perpetuating violence, and offing two demons (as much as a demon could be “offed”) was enough healing mojo.

  After the longest moment of my life, Connor stopped wailing.

  He turned toward me.

  He had his eyes again.

  Only they were solid black.

  Connor’s nostrils flared, his monster gaze on mine. He grinned, and I saw those sharp double rows of teeth. Demon teeth.

  The hair rose on the back of my neck. The demon was in control. This was the real Connor, I told myself. The one who’d lied to me and tricked me. He’d killed because his evil nature demanded the sacrifice.

  Then guilt wedged into my self-righteousness. Hadn’t I tried to tempt him to access that side? I wanted him to heal, but I hadn’t been prepared for what it might entail.

  I whipped out a binding coil and wound it around him.

  Connor laughed, and it was the bad kind of laugh, the one a villain always issued before doing something mean. I shot another coil of magic at him and sealed his mouth.

  Terror threatened to rip through my magic. I already felt like a weakling. The creature snared in my trap was demon in body, and worse, demon in mind. What if I couldn’t reach the human side of Connor?

  “Snap out of it!” I shouted. “We have to go get the talisman. And save the world and stuff. Remember?” What was I talking about? I didn’t even get why we needed the damned thing, but mostly I didn’t want Lilith to have it. If she wanted it, then nothing good would come of her getting her pedicured mitts on it. Connor and I needed to have a heart-to-heart about its significance. And why I was so important to its success.

  He stared at me, and even though the magic covered his mouth, I knew he was grinning.

  Scrymgeour had disappeared. I didn’t blame him. What was he supposed to do, anyway? Connor was his master; he wasn’t gonna slurp him down for me.

  I held on to Connor and considered my options. The cave was probably twenty or twenty-five feet across. The ceiling was dome shaped, so far as I could tell with all the red, wormy things pulsing on it.

  Nowhere to go.

  Apparently bored by playing Demon and the Cowgirl, he shrugged, and poof went my magic.

  So annoying.

  “Crap.” I freaked. I turned and ran, putting on the vampire speed. The cavern wasn’t a big space, but it was filled with detritus and big-ass rocks. I was afraid to go into the darkness again, so I spun around the small, dimly lit space like a hamster in its exercise wheel.

  We played chase as minutes ticked by. Rusty chuckles escaped from the demon, who thought this game was ever so fun. Me? Not so much.

  I considered my next course of action. Anxiety scrambled through me as I realized what I had to do.

  I stopped running.

  And let him catch me.

  He caught me up into his arms and grinned. A line from Where the Wild Things Are ran through my head: They roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws.

  And Connor… he was the wildest thing of all.

  But I couldn’t tame him with a magic trick. Staring into his eyes made me realize that the demon was winning. He crushed me to him and pushed his nose against my neck, inhaling deeply.

  “Pretty,” he rasped. “So pretty.”

  I wasn’t going to give up on him. And if that made me stupid along with crazy, so be it.

  I gnawed on my lower lip.

  “Connor,” I said. “Please.”

  He blinked and tilted his head. “Ph-Phoebe?”

  “Yes. It’s me.”

  “Mate.” Confusion and sadness flashed in his gaze. “Mate,” he whispered.

  I nodded. “That’s right. I’m your w-wife.”

  Here was the real Connor. The one who’d been warrior and brother and friend and lover. The one who’d challenged Lilith and wanted to keep her locked away in the Pit. That woman would serve no good purpose wandering around the earthly plane.

  “Connor.” I cupped his scaly white face, ignoring the blood spatter. I tried to discern any glimmer of the human within those dark eyes. “Husband.”

  He threw me against the wall. The back of my newly healed head crunched. Ouch. Connor’s hard body crushed mine. It was a good thing I didn’t need to breathe. He grabbed my chin roughly and forced me to look at him.

  “Shut up,” he commanded in a low, mean voice. Damn it. I’d lost the tenuous connection. He pressed closer, his hot breath fanning my cheek. His lips ghoste
d down my jaw until his mouth hovered near my ear. Dread seeped through my every pore.

  His tongue flicked along my throat. “Scream,” he rasped. “Scream for me.”

  Chapter 12

  Connor snared my wrists with one hand and lifted them above my head, pinning them to the wall. He used his knees to part my thighs. Then he roughly pushed forward, his unsheathed demon cock pressing against the vee of my thighs.

  I held still, or tried. I couldn’t stop the involuntary shudders that racked my body.

  I was afraid.

  He wanted to dominate me. Wanted terror to sweep through me, to ravage my courage.

  “Fight me,” he demanded. His teeth grazed my earlobe, scraped down my neck. “Fight!”

  Was that Connor issuing the command? Or the demon? Did it matter?

  His hand coasted down my rib cage.

  His fingers dove under the band of my panties, inching toward my labia.

  “No!” I struggled in earnest now, my voice thick with tears I couldn’t shed. “Stop!”

  His fingertips skirted the top of my pubic bone and sent me into a blind panic.

  I did something really stupid.

  I kissed him.

  I won’t lie and say it was thrilling, because his lips were leathery, and his tongue was split like a snake’s. I wouldn’t relinquish the thought that this was Connor. So I poured my fear and hope and desire into that kiss, and all my desperation, and my silent plea: Come back to me.

  He yanked his mouth from mine. He was breathing hard and quivering.

  “Connor?”

  His obsidian gaze flickered.

  I swore my undead heart thudded in my chest as hope and fear warred within me.

  Slowly the inky blackness receded until familiar amber eyes stared at me in confusion, in pain.

  Slish. Slish. Slish. The white scales flicked away until only human flesh remained. Dark brown hair flowed from scalp to shoulders.

  “M’aingeal.” He dropped his head to my shoulder, his body shuddering against mine.

  My knees felt like pudding and my stomach quivered. Oh, God. I stood still, my throat working, and tried to stop my own shivering.

  Connor lifted his head, regret shimmering in his eyes. I knew then that he had never wanted me to see him in his demon form. His saying he was a demon was a far cry from my seeing him as one.

  “Don’t ever fucking do that again,” I hissed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  The next thing I knew, the world went dark and shifted sideways, and when it righted itself again, I found myself under a warm spray of water, my back pressed against smooth stone.

  Connor had transported us to a natural hot spring. The water sluiced over us, washing away the grime and the blood. I wished it could wash away our problems just as easily.

  The same wiggling red glow that lit the previous space appeared at the top of the cave. I almost asked what those things were, because they seemed alive, but I didn’t really want to know. Sometimes ignorance really was bliss.

  The cave was small; from top to bottom it was black and as smooth as marble. It looked as though someone had carved it out of obsidian and buffed it until it shined.

  I looked at Connor, and his gaze held so much darkness, I couldn’t decide if I should run or weep.

  “Phoebe.” His voice broke. He dropped to his knees and pressed his cheek against my belly. “Forgive me.”

  Connor kissed my stomach’s jagged scar, which would soon disappear. Gotta love the healing tendencies of undead flesh. He kissed the spot again, and my abdomen tightened. His lips were soft, and the warm rush of his breath made me tingle.

  “Forgive what?” I asked. That he’d mated with me? That he’d lied to me? That he’d turned into a demon and killed two assholes that would’ve happily ripped me limb from limb?

  “Everything,” he murmured. His fingers wrapped around my hips, and I felt my insides lurch as he dragged off my shorts. It wasn’t exactly easy, given that they’d been soaked by the water.

  “C-Connor.”

  “Ssshhh.” He kissed the skin above the line of my panties. He hooked his thumbs under the thin waistband and drew the material down.

  Here was the part where I should have told him no, that he shouldn’t touch me, or kiss me, or make me feel good. We were partners so long as it took to get the other half of the talisman and figure out how the hell to break the bond between us.

  “Why is the talisman so important?” I asked. “Why does everyone want it?”

  “I’ll tell you later,” he said hoarsely. “Promise.” Protests hovered in my mouth like trapped ghosts. They melted into nothingness the second his tongue slid between my folds and flicked my clitoris.

  I clutched at his hair, and he moaned. His hands cupped my ass and drew me closer to his ravaging mouth. Tendrils of pleasure wound through me, poking through my doubts, through the protests I wouldn’t utter.

  It was wrong. Wrong to let him think this was acceptable penance. An orgasm wasn’t equivalent to forgiveness. That was man-thinking right there – the idea that sex would resolve the worst of emotional crimes.

  My back pressed into the wall, and my knees went soft, and into my mind whispered Connor’s, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

  And I couldn’t hold on to my anger. Or my fear.

  I wanted this moment. Even if it turned into regret later, I wanted it.

  I felt that hot rush, and then, yes… I was going over, coming into his mouth, pulling at his hair, and calling out his name. And he wouldn’t stop, even when my thighs trembled and my knees threatened to buckle, and oh, hell, he made me come again.

  Then my legs gave way and Connor stood up, his muscular body aligning against mine.

  His cock pressed into the wet vee of my thighs. Water poured over us like a baptism. I couldn’t find the words to say yes or no. I wasn’t sure my legs would hold me long enough to walk away, if I even had the fortitude to go.

  My gaze was held hostage by his. I saw questions there, questions I couldn’t answer. I opened my mind to his and sent out a single thought: We don’t have forever.

  We have now, lass.

  I nodded, even though it wasn’t exactly capitulation. More like stepping off a cliff, embracing that long, joyful moment of freedom and the rush of wind before slamming into the ground.

  I kicked off my panties that clung to my ankles like lace shackles. Connor grabbed my shirt where the demon had savaged it, and he ripped it. I shimmied it off my shoulders and it plopped to the ground.

  Connor’s hands slid under my buttocks and he lifted me. His shaft teased my entrance. I was already slick, swollen, ready. He was the only man who’d ever made me feel as though my body were an extension of his, and joining with him was a reconnection of a whole.

  He impaled me with one swift stroke of his cock. I wrapped my legs around his waist and clutched his shoulders. We stayed like that for an endless moment, savoring the connection that we both knew was temporary.

  He leaned down and tugged one turgid peak into his mouth and swirled his tongue, teasing the bud as heat sparked. He palmed my other breast, all the while keeping me pinned to the wall with the strength of his thighs.

  I clenched around his cock, and he sucked in a harsh breath, so I did it again.

  Then he was moving, his hands grabbing my ass and his mouth moving to my throat. I dug my fingernails into his flesh, my distended nipples scraping against his chest, and welcomed every hard thrust.

  He took me all the way to the brink, then slowed just enough so that I didn’t tip over. His gaze imprisoned me. The look in his eyes made promises he could not keep, promises of forever, and love, and this.

  We were not mates. Our bodies were bound to each other, but not our hearts.

  That was the lie I would tell myself.

  Because I couldn’t have Connor. Maybe if he had been a vampire. Or even a human. Or a goddamned troll. But he was a demon.

  My throat went tigh
t as sorrow trickled into the pleasure of having Connor inside me.

  “Don’t,” he whispered; then he sealed his mouth to mine, his tongue mimicking the motions of his cock. Heat flared.

  He plunged deeply, his fingers jabbing into my thighs. He lifted his mouth only long enough to demand: “Come with me, Phoebe.”

  He swallowed my moan, and he increased his pace, and I knew he was close because our mind link was still open. I could feel his pleasure, his desperation, because they felt like mine.

  He felt like mine.

  “I am,” he muttered. “I am yours.”

  And then he was gasping, pulsating within me, going over the edge, and I went with him, flying into the conflagration we’d created… and we burned together.

  After a while, Connor reluctantly withdrew and lowered my shaky legs to the ground. He held me until my feet could hold me, and then stepped away.

  “Don’t say I shouldna done this,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  I shook my head because I couldn’t figure out what to say. He cupped my cheek, tenderness in his gaze, and I believed it – believed he cared about me even after what he’d done. Maybe he was still lying, but my heart recognized the truth: He’d betray me again, damn it. He’d betray me because of the talisman, because of Lilith, because I wasn’t the woman he loved. The one he desired, sure. And the one he had to protect. But love wasn’t a factor. It was just another pathetic sign of my own loneliness that I wished it were any different.

  I ached for Connor, for both of us.

  Connor magicked up soap and washcloths and shampoo, and we separated to scrub ourselves. When we were finished, we moved away from the waterfall. He created big, thick cotton towels, and we dried off.

  The silence between us wasn’t exactly comfortable. There was so much to do, to worry about, to figure out before we could even begin to unravel the mating issue.

  I leaned over to rub the towel over my hair. When I straightened, Connor was fully dressed in a black T-shirt, faded denims, and snakeskin boots. Even his hair was dry and brushed.

  “Hey, do I get clothes, too?”

  “I like you as you are,” he said, grinning. Then he flicked his fingers and red magic spun toward me.