Demon Bait: Children of the Undying, Book 1 (10 page)

His lips twitched. “Are you just humoring me?”

“What? No.” Marci leaned in and nipped his shoulder. “They’re your friends, so I—I’d want to get to know them.”

Gabe leaned close, his breath stirring her hair. “We haven’t really talked about it, even though we’ve been down here for a week now. Do you want to stay in Rochester?” It was the last question she’d expected him to ask now, before they’d even made it to the settlement.

“I don’t have anywhere else I’d rather be, but I haven’t been there yet. I don’t know what it’s like, I only know—”
I only know you.

He rubbed his temple against hers. “I’ll let you go, if you want me to. If you ask me to. But I’ll miss you so damn much.”

She told herself it had to be the power of the bond between them—had been telling herself that for days—but it didn’t matter. Gabe was a part of her now, a friend and a lover and somehow still so much more. “I want to stay,” she whispered. “To try, I mean. For you. ’Cause I’d miss you too.”

The water on the stove was boiling now, but Gabe didn’t seem to care. He lifted her and turned to deposit her on the two square feet of bare counter, leaned in until the bulk of his body blocked out everything else. “Kiss me.”

A hundred different touches for a hundred moods. Sometimes Marci offered him teasing caresses, testing how long it would take him to give in with a groan and come to her. Other times, like now,
she
was the one giving in. She framed his face with her hands, holding him still for a soft, wondering kiss.

In return he seduced her, following her lead in a slow exploration. Good all on its own, but the magic made it better, made the air sing when he edged his way between her knees and stroked his hands up her sides.

Marci shivered. His touch elicited far more than sexual arousal, and she wasn’t sure whether to blame that on the magic too, or if something far more serious had happened over the last few days. “Here?” she murmured against his mouth.

He chuckled. “Would you like it?”

“I like it all.” And it was true. She loved talking to him as much as kissing him, loved the quiet companionship as much as the way he growled under his breath when he slid inside her.

The wicked light in his eyes eased, turned into something else. Something hungry and vast, something that melted the last vestiges of doubt lingering in her heart. “Marci—” His body went tense and his head whipped to the side, toward the hallway. The fingers on her side slipped down to her hips again, then tightened as his eyes went black with rage.

Fear froze her in place. “Gabe?”

A crash sounded from above, then a clang as the bomb shelter’s door opened.

Gabe bared his teeth and lunged for the sitting room—and his weapons. The closest thing at Marci’s disposal was a drawer full of kitchen knives, so she grabbed the largest one and followed him.

He filled the narrow hallway, tense energy vibrating through him that didn’t dissipate when an angry voice roared, “Gabriel Yates, get your insubordinate ass up here.
Now.
” She pressed close to his back. “Someone from Rochester?” His answer made no sense. “I’m sorry, Marci.”

Amazing, how quickly the heat of fear could turn to an icy chill. “For what?” Footsteps sounded on the stairs, heavy boots that scraped over concrete with no attempt at stealth, perhaps because Gabe and Marci had no place to run.

Gabe still backed up, hustling her a step or two before whirling to grab her shoulders. “I was going to tell you,” he said, the words quiet and quick, almost overwhelmed by the sound of her knife clattering to the floor. “I just needed a few days. I needed to give you a chance—” He stumbled away, almost fell, and Marci caught sight of a dark-haired man dragging him away by the back of the shirt. “Stop it,” she rasped. “Let him go—”

The stranger crashed Gabe into the wall hard enough to make her wince, but Gabe didn’t fight. He closed his eyes and held up his hands, a clear sign of surrender.

When the newcomer turned, Marci found the face she’d seen in Dominic Wetzel’s file staring at her, his cold gray eyes assessing. “Are you uninjured?”

“I’m
fine
. Will you please get off of him?”

Zel didn’t blink. “Lorenzo. Get down here and make sure she hasn’t been flipped.”

“I haven’t been—”
I’m sorry, Marci.
His words, vague enough to have meant anything, but they made her hesitate, dread uncurling in her belly. “Gabe?”

“No.
No.
” The second man approached, and something feral filled Gabe’s face as he lunged, only to be yanked back by Zel. “I didn’t flip you, Marci. That’s not—
don’t touch her
.” The other man—Lorenzo, Zel had called him—stopped several feet from Marci and held out a placating hand in Gabe’s direction. “Calm the hell down, Yates. I’m going to check her out, that’s all.”

“I’m fine,” she said again, though even she heard the desperate note in her voice. She needed to believe it, so badly, but the longer they all looked at her like that…

Lorenzo stared at her, searching her eyes. “Not flipped,” he said finally. “Definitely marked.” It seemed to satisfy Zel, who released his grip on the back of Gabe’s vest. “Tell her,” Zel ordered.

Gabe stumbled forward and hit the floor on his knees. “I lied,” he said, voice dull. Numb.

Marci stared, her heart in her throat. In
pieces
. She didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to open her mouth and say, “About which part?”

He didn’t answer, and the silence dragged on until Zel spoke. “There aren’t any demons up there. They’ve been gone for five days.”

Her mind whirled, kept circling back to those words and what they meant.
Five days.
Gabe had kept her here, let her believe it was for their safety. It sounded all-too-familiar, just like his rationalizations for locking her in the lounge with him in the first place.

Five days in his bed, in his
arms
. Five days of ignorance.

And that ignorance was no one’s business but hers. She’d spent her life mercilessly guarding her privacy, and that habit died hard. She faced Zel and shook her head. “He did it for me. I wasn’t ready to leave.”

On the floor, Gabe’s body went stiff.

Zel, however, sighed. “If we stick around until we’ve untangled this, we
will
have demons on top of us. Back to town, and then I’ll sort this out, one way or another.”

Rochester wasn’t what she’d expected. Then again, that had happened a lot over the last week and a half, so much that she wasn’t even surprised.

Though she’d been privy to the most complete nonclassified records Nicollet had on Rochester, she’d somehow envisioned the settlement as a larger version of the bomb shelter at the Weisman. A series of holes in the ground, lined with concrete and fear.

Instead, the town consisted of segmented dwellings and common areas, all connected by hallways bustling with activity and laughter. Everything Gabe had claimed, which meant there were definitely some things he’d been honest about.

Now, she stared down Dominic Wetzel again, this time with her shoulders squared and her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “He told me they were gone, and I asked him for more time. I’m sorry if it caused problems or compromised anyone’s safety.”

Zel glanced to his left, where the petite woman he’d introduced as his second-in-command stood with her arms crossed over her chest. At his look, she shook her head with enough force to make her brown hair swing.

Turning back to Marci, Zel exhaled roughly. “Hailey has summoner blood
and
demon blood. Among her other talents, she can tell when people are lying to her.”

“Maybe her lie detector’s broken,” Marci suggested. “Or maybe I’m not telling you the whole truth because it’s sort of naked and
completely
obscene.” Hailey laughed. “She’s actually not lying about that part. I guess she liked Gabe’s pretty, pretty eyes.” Zel made a rumbling noise, a lower, rougher version of Gabe’s growl. “Not helping, Hailey.”

“Do you want the truth, or not?”

The man ground his teeth together and pinned Marci in place with a stare. “Fine. Why he lied isn’t the issue, unless you want to make it one. We’re here to talk about you.”

“What about me?”

“You’ve had a rough few days, Marci.” He leaned back in his chair. “In no small part because of one of my men. Do you have any grievances you want to air about Gabe? Any way in which he crossed the line?”

She relaxed a little. “I know you’re trying to do your job, and this is part of it. I respect that, I do. But anything that happened between Gabe and me? It’s not a matter of judgment and punishment. It’s personal.”

Again, Zel glanced at Hailey. This time she nodded and spoke to Marci herself. “Things are different here. They have to be, a little bit, to make sure we can all live together safely. And if you’re going to stay here, you deserve to know that upfront.”

“I understand.” And, because the reassurance was something she could offer without lies or hesitation, she said, “He didn’t cross the line. Really.” She’d been a willing participant, fully aware of what she was getting herself into by becoming involved.

“Fine.” Zel quirked one eyebrow. “That doesn’t get him out of trouble, you know. In case you were trying to protect him. A halfblood doesn’t get to lie to me. Not if he wants to live in my city.” Marci nodded. “That part’s between you and Gabe.”

“Yes, it is. Hailey?” He gestured, and the woman stepped around the desk. “Hailey will get you settled in. Find you a place to stay, explain how things work. Most new residents get a two-week probationary period, a chance to find where they fit in. Trip’s already suggested to me that you would be able to earn your keep working with him, if that’s what you choose.” She might as well stay busy, do something familiar. “That would be great, thanks.”

“If you need anything, you can come to me.” That terrifying face from the file didn’t look so forbidding when it smiled. In fact, Zel looked almost friendly. “Welcome to Rochester, Marci.”

“Thank you.” Hailey smiled at her too, and Marci self-consciously returned the expression. “Besides a place to stay, I guess I need to know where and how to buy things.”

“I’ll explain all of it,” Hailey promised as she guided Marci toward the door. “We have our own internal system. Barter and credits for work done for the good of the community. If Trip puts you to work, you’ll be in good shape.”

“I have money,” Marci hurriedly assured her. “But I don’t mind working too.”

“We can convert some of your credits into a local account.” Outside in the hallway, plenty of people watched them pass, but everyone moved quickly out of their way. Hailey paid the onlookers no notice as she led Marci into a narrower corridor. “Some people like to keep city credits to trade in the Global, though.”

Marci avoided their gazes out of habit before remembering she had no reason to blend into the background here. So she stood straighter, held her head high. “Is there a marketplace, or is trade scattered? Staged during a certain time?”

“Every day, from the second to sixth chime. Some of the crafters work by appointment, though.” Hailey stopped at an intersection. “Let’s get you settled in, and then I’ll give you a tour. Or…” Both of her eyebrows went up. “Do you want to talk to Gabe?”

What Marci wanted paled when measured next to harsh reality. “I—I need to, before I do anything else.”

“I understand.” She gestured to the right. “He’s with Lorenzo for now, but by the time I get you entered into the system, they should be done. Let’s go chat with Trip.”

“All right.” It would be good to have time to order her thoughts, and the chance to see a somewhat familiar face. “Trip’s office, then.”

They took Marci away, and that was the worst part of all.

Gabe paced the confines of the old bank vault, counting the steps out of habit. Ten paces, which was just enough space to feel confining without being claustrophobic. Not for him. A warrior, on the other hand, might be climbing the walls already, which made confinement in the vault an abject lesson.

Gabe knew the worst was yet to come.

And come it did, in the form of Lorenzo, who walked in shaking his head. “She’s covering your ass pretty good, isn’t she?”

The fact that Marci had lied for him—apparently was
still
lying for him—gave him some shred of hope. She could forgive him, maybe, if he was still around to forgive.

Lorenzo eyed him with a sigh. “All Zel’s trying to figure out is if you misled her, because he doesn’t get us—what we are. Not really. But we know the score, don’t we, Gabe?”

“I didn’t flip her,” Gabe said, because he wasn’t ready to answer the real question in Lorenzo’s eyes.

They both knew the truth—there was more than one way to bend someone to your will, and some didn’t require magic at all.

“You seduced her.”

“I didn’t lean on her, either.” Gabe refused to blink. If he closed his eyes, he’d see Marci. Her face, her smiles, her body and the way she offered it to him with shy trust and innocent boldness. “But I seduced her.”

Lorenzo folded his arms over his chest and nodded. “
After
I asked you if you were having sex with her?”

As if it were that easy. As if part of him hadn’t been watching her cues, evaluating her body language.

Admiring her body. “When does a seduction start, Lorenzo? When you get them into bed?”

“When you start trying like hell to make it happen.”

He closed his eyes. “I tried
not
to let it happen. But after I marked her… She saved my life out there. Brained a demon who was about to kill me. What would you have done?” Lorenzo barked out a sound that didn’t quite manage to be a laugh. “You should know better than to ask me that question, Gabe.”

Yes, he should have, especially when imagining the answer stirred possessive rage. Anyone Lorenzo desired, Lorenzo would have. “Then why are you kicking my ass over this?” The other halfblood stalked closer. “Because she just lost her home, everything that she was. She wasn’t in a good place for seduction, no matter how earnest or well intentioned. Marcelle McClure was
vulnerable
, and you took advantage of it.”