Awakening Kiss (Watcher's Kiss Book 4) (7 page)

“A lot of them don’t.” Miranda shrugged. “We don’t always announce our lineage before giving a human a good fucking. Especially since said announcement would most likely hinder the fucking.”

Jude laughed. Rhys shot him a glare.

Then again, he’d probably bedded numerous human women during the Lash demons’ fertile time at each solstice. Damn. Rhys ground his molars.

“This one you met,” Miranda said, “are you going to see her again?”

That was the million dollar question. “Maybe.” Rhys said.
Definitely.

“Here.” Miranda reached into the pocket of her skin-tight jeans and handed him a card.

“You carry cards?”

“I’m always organized.” Miranda gathered her hair into a twist at one shoulder, then let it go. “Call me if the girl needs help with being a kick-ass-awesome half-demoness chick.”

“Thanks.” Rhys turned it over, studying the white script on black background.

“Or if she’s in the minority who have our lightning ability.” Miranda’s face got serious. “That can throw a person off, big time. She’ll need guidance on that for sure.”

Rhys nodded. A small percentage of Deserati demons could control lightning, manipulating it to their will. But from what he’d heard, the talent was as difficult to master as it was rare. Hence, Miranda’s punishment for ruining a mountain.

He blew out a breath. If Enza possessed that skill and had no idea about it, let alone no idea how to control it, she was a walking, talking time bomb.

If
she had it… “How does a demon know if they have it?” he asked.

“Well, we all get tested really young. That shit needs to be pinpointed and controlled,” Miranda said. “But in the case of a halfling, there’s not necessarily anyone to check them out. Maybe something weird happens during a storm. Maybe the power goes out in her house. I don’t know.”

The power
… Holy shit…That street lamp.

Time froze as Rhys stared, unseeing, at Miranda. Enza’s words echoed in his head.
Technology hates me. Apps glitch, my files don’t save…

Holy
fucking
shit.

“Rhys?” Miranda tilted her head. “Where’d you go just now?”

With monumental effort, he schooled his shock into neutrality. “I may be calling you.”

Her green eyes widened. “You think she might be a lightning wielder?”

“Not sure.” He blew out a breath. “I need to talk to her more.”

“Dude, you were gonna do that anyway,” Jude cracked, then his face sobered. “That’s heavy firepower to be holding and not know how to use.”

“Call me with whatever you find out,” Miranda said. “Even if she can’t control lightning, she may have other questions. Or maybe she can scry.”

“You got it.” Rhys hadn’t thought of scrying, the talent by which Deserati could see what was happening in another place, using a reflective surface.

“All right. I’m serious. Let me know about her.” Miranda’s tone brokered no argument—exactly what he’d expect from a predatory female. “Good seeing you again, and nice meeting you, Jude. I’ve got more places to check out, and now I’m psyched that I may have a lightning sister right here.” She gave them a wave and vaulted from their rooftop to the next, then slipped away into the dark night.

Jude murmured something about glad to have Miranda on their side, but Rhys could only think of Enza. If he had been intrigued before, now he was in deep. The need to know more about her surged through him, attraction combined with the need to protect.

Time to pay his little baker-demoness a visit.

C
HAPTER
7

A
NTONIO AND
S
OREN SAT IN
the rear VIP booth of the nightclub, watching their nymph dates dance on a packed wooden floor in the center of the dark space. An arctic blast churned from the cooling system, but it couldn’t keep up with both the crush of bodies inside and the humidity.

Though the sun had gone down the air held no less moisture. Antonio shook his head. Fucking summer.

The human waitress, clad in a tight black dress with straps crisscrossing over generous breasts, replaced their empty shot glasses with a fresh round. She made sure to lean over as she did so. “Is there anything else I can get you gentlemen?”

“Not right now, gorgeous, but we’ll let you know.” Soren tracked her curves with hungry eyes, lingering on her ass as she sauntered away.

Antonio raised his glass to his brother. “To finding something worthwhile in this flat, hot city.”

Soren lifted his in return. “And to fucking nymphs every night.”

Antonio downed his Jack Daniels and surveyed the club. To his enhanced Deserati demon vision, every creature, both human and other, stood out clearly. Every scent that wafted to his nose was identifiable, and mostly consisting of the shitty chemicals in human perfumes.

That manufactured crap didn’t hinder him. Nothing could mask an individual’s scent. No matter the species, the scent acted as an olfactory fingerprint that couldn’t be changed. And his sleuthing would always identify true lineage.

“Looks like we’re the only predators in here.” Soren perused the crowd. “Guess those Lash demons didn’t have the night off.”

Antonio grunted, his gaze settling on a female who appeared to be a fairy but her ears weren’t pointed like they should be. He didn’t care much either way about the Watchers. Everyone knew they had a presence in this city. Everyone on Torth knew that a group of remarkable females with elemental talent had been discovered living here last year, and all had become mated to Watchers. Now their leader Arawn had even more power to call on if he needed it.

Yippee, skippee. Good for him.

The discovery of the women—sisters, known as the Solsti—had sparked realm-wide curiosity and a subtle migration to the city. What other creatures might be living in Chicago, honing their incredible talent? Or maybe even totally unaware of an ability they had?

Lots of Torth’s denizens had “extra” abilities. Ones that went beyond what a normal member of a given species could do. Some could cloak themselves in shadows. Some could exert mind control. Antonio and Soren had a sixth sense about these unique beings, and over the years had sniffed out many of them. They themselves hadn’t been born with their own species’ rare power to control lightning, but their ability to recognize the unusual had benefitted them for years, and especially recently.

Thanks to a particularly greedy group of Ghazsul demons who were willing to pay any price for creatures they could use. Antonio and Soren merely discovered, delivered, and got paid handsomely. Though they’d signed a contract in blood to provide decades of service, and it was a nice, easy life…lately, it had become less satisfying.

Antonio couldn’t pinpoint why. He had all conceivable comforts at his fingertips, yet the details of his life were blending together into a brew of distaste. The endless parade of cities, portal trips, handovers of supernaturals whom they took by force—the mix had congealed into something that left a sour tinge in his mind. But since their clan had indicated they had no interest in the brothers who couldn’t manipulate lightning, he wasn’t sure what else lay on the horizon.

He now focused on the dancing fairy. “Her ears aren’t pointed. She’s either a really short human, or she had them surgically altered.”

Soren assessed her. “Or she’s a halfling.”

“True. Though human and fairy? That may not yield much in the way of talent.”

“I’ll go see.” Soren set his glass down. He stalked to the dance floor, horns and tail hidden since humans populated the throng. Though when the night got late and the drinks were flowing, Soren sometimes let his magic slip, just to mess with unsuspecting
homo sapiens
. Getting up close to the female, he grabbed her hips and pulled her against him, then leaned down to her ear. She raised her arms and linked them behind his neck, delight on her face at the attention from a big, predatory male.

“Hey, honey,” Antonio’s nymph cooed breathlessly, sliding into the booth and almost onto his lap. “We can’t have you sitting all alone.” She leaned in to nibble his ear and whisper, “Wanna have some fun right here? It’s so dark and private…” A tiny hand reached up to stroke along one horn, which he had hidden but she knew very well were there.

He groaned as his cock stirred at her stimulation. Horns were so sensitive, any tactile sensation was lust-inducing. But he shoved the thought down, knowing she was a sure thing for later. “Not yet, baby.” He took her hand in his. “Not quite done here.”

She pouted for two seconds, then curled up against his side. “Okay. You keep working so
very hard
…” her words were enunciated with a sultry tone. “… and I’ll help you relax and take all your stress away when you’re ready.”

Soren returned, not glancing at the nymph. “She’s one hundred percent fairy. Had her ears done by a healer on Torth.”

“Oh my gods, I’ve heard of that!” The nymph turned toward the dance floor. “Sounds barbaric, but hmm…let me go talk to her.” With a flip of long blond hair, she was gone.

“I think their attention span is less than a fly’s,” Soren commented.

“Unless the current activity is sex.”

“And that’s a beautiful thing.” Soren stretched his arms out along the back of the booth. “This club’s got nothing tonight.”

“No shit.” Antonio shook his head. “Back to the neighborhoods tomorrow.” The two demons would stay in the city as long as it took to determine if it was home to any creatures with unusual abilities. No matter how little enthusiasm he may have for the job, Antonio would hang out with Soren, blending in, attending festivals and events both big and small. They would observe and track, senses attuned to any unexpected magic or occurrences.

In a city of more than two million people, surely someone of note lived here. And anyone they found would be taken and turned over to their current employer on Torth, the rough-living band of Ghaszul demons known as Splinter.

C
HAPTER
8

T
WO DAYS AFTER THE WEIRDEST
experience of her life, Enza walked the short distance from the bus stop to Java Genie, the sun hot and the air already sticky even at five in the morning.

Waking early was part of baking in a coffee shop, and she loved the quiet time alone with her edible creations, getting work done amidst the comforting aromas of bread, butter, and melting chocolate. Smells were like a dictionary in her head, knowledge that was catalogued with specific details. She could tell when Meena or the baristas brewed a peppermint mocha, even if she was back in the kitchen.

She’d replaced her phone yesterday, rising late after a fitful night. And the whole time she’d been out running errands, she’d looked down every alley and took second looks at every person, with Rhys’s words in her head.
Some creatures in our city aren’t human.
She didn’t know what she expected to see. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary…but somehow she felt like a veil had been lifted.

Rhys.
If she had to end up in a crazy situation with a stranger, she couldn’t have asked for a better one. She had no way to confirm or deny anything he said…but she wasn’t about to do the whole pot-and-kettle thing. She was a walking case study for electrical eccentricity. At least she was back at home and work, in one piece. Cracking one egg after another, she wondered if she’d ever see him again. Wandering the Gold Coast in search of him didn’t sound like a sensible option. But the thought that he might have only been in her life for a few hours left her oddly disappointed.

The slide of metal on metal reached her ears.
Meena.
Enza couldn’t explain it—even tucked in the depths of the building, she could hear a key in the lock out front.

The familiar slam of the main door echoed as Enza turned on her ovens and pulled out some baking sheets. Meena usually came in early and scheduled the baristas to do the same. By five thirty, they always had customers. Half asleep and very mellow, but glad to get a fresh cup of joe.

“Enza!” Meena rushed into the kitchen and wrapped Enza in a hug. “Oh my god, girl, how are you?”

“I’m fine. I told you.” Enza hugged her friend back, knowing this would happen. Despite a hundred reassurances that she was unharmed, Meena had flown into hysterics yesterday upon hearing Enza had narrowly escaped three assholes.

Now, Meena pulled back and her gaze raked Enza from head to toe. “No scratches. No bruises. Any I can’t see?” She frowned.

“You can stop worrying.” Enza poured reassurance into her voice. “I told you, they never touched me. Just chased me.”

“I don’t ever want you to stay late and go home alone. Your amazing recipes can wait until morning,” Meena admonished. “You either call a cab, or hire a bodyguard. Promise.”

An image of Rhys popped into Enza’s mind. Huge, muscular...and yes, protective. He’d be a nice bodyguard. “Um, okay. I promise.”

Meena plopped down onto a stool. “You should move to a nicer neighborhood. Hey! Move in with me!”

Enza froze her face into a fake smile. “No way. You’re too messy. I could die and no one would find me under all your crap.” Her friend, while brilliant and organized in school and work, was a pack rat and slob at home.

“I’m not that bad.” Meena folded her arms. “My block is safer than yours.”

“I honestly think this was a random thing. My bad luck.”

“Morning.” Josie, one of the baristas, poked her head in. “Enza, how are you? I can’t believe that happened to you!”

“I’m good. Everything turned out fine.”
Thanks to Rhys being in the same alley.
Enza moved two dozen pre-rolled croissants to a baking sheet and slid it into the oven.

“My brother doesn’t live far from here. He said to call if you need someone to walk you home.” Josie pulled her blond hair up into a messy bun.

“That would be great; tell him thank you for me,” Enza murmured. Josie was always trying to fix her twin brother up with someone. He seemed nice enough, but not Enza’s type. Still, having company on the way home would be reassuring.