Demon of Vengeance: Chronicles of the Fallen, Book 4 (18 page)

He paused, suddenly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information she should probably know. “It’d be a damned sight easier if there was some book I could give you to read. Too bad Encyclopedia Britannica didn’t come up with that version…everything you need to know about demons, A to Z.”

That earned him a puff of breath. Great, now she was laughing at him. Sort of. Well, it was something at least.

At the end of his rope, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Sweetheart, if there’s anything you’d like to know, all you have to do is ask.”

She remained quiet for so long, he feared he’d pushed her too hard too fast. But then her soft voice broke the stillness, and he could have shouted for joy. “Are there any others…like me?”

Phoebe waited with baited breath, her heart in her throat. She couldn’t believe she was even doing this, asking questions, talking about any of this. Her father must be rolling over in his grave right now. But she couldn’t seem to help herself.

She fingered the scar on her throat with her free hand. He’d been correct when he’d said she’d have a target on her back. She already did. And people were lining up to take aim, it seemed. So he was right. She wasn’t stupid. And she wanted to survive. She wanted to live.

So she needed to know.

And to know, she would have to talk. She would have to acknowledge. She bit her lip and prayed her father, wherever he was, would forgive her for breaking her word.

“There are other demonesses,” Sebastian began. Phoebe tensed, waiting for him to go on. Why did he sound so reluctant all of a sudden? “But there aren’t many. Female demons are very rare.”

“Why?”

“Well, no one really knows for sure. Due to the lack of female demons, male demons mate humans, though not usually with the sole purpose of begetting demon spawn, you understand. But sometimes—on rare occasions—it happens anyway.”

“Why only on rare occasions?”

“Human anatomy usually isn’t strong enough to withstand carrying demon spawn to term. And, for whatever genetic reason that spawn is, nine hundred ninety-nine times out of a thousand, male.” He shrugged, but then his expression turned pained. “Because of their rarity…” He trailed off, his tone troubled.

She squinted at him in the darkness. “Sebastian?”

“Because there are so few female demons, they’re often captured and…and held against their will. Most are kept secreted away. Bloody battles have been fought over those that have been found, entire legions wiped out either trying to keep a demoness, or trying to steal one away.”

Phoebe sat up and stared down at him, incredulous. “Are you kidding me?”

He sat up too, though he didn’t scoot any closer, which was probably a good thing right now. She wasn’t sure how she might react. On top of the wardrobe, the candles flared to life, illuminating the broad expanse of his naked chest. The sheet pooled low in his lap.

“In my entire life, I’ve only ever seen one demoness…besides you. I only caught a brief glimpse of her, just for a few moments. But I knew if I even acknowledged her I’d be dead before I drew my next breath. She was a prisoner.” He drew a deep, bracing breath. As if he feared her reaction. “Lucifer’s prisoner. She was chained by the neck, wrists, and ankles to a wall in his personal chambers. She was very beautiful, noble and unbroken despite her circumstances.”

Outrage boiled through her system. “Why didn’t you free her?”

Now Sebastian seemed to weigh his words carefully. “Because those cuffs weren’t coming off without a key. Lucifer kept that key on his person at all times. And—” Sebastian broke off, rubbed a hand over his eyes.

“And what?”

He searched her face, seemed to silently beseech her to hear him out. “I was a different demon then, Phoebe, a hardened soldier who knew that to try to free the female would have resulted in certain, and very painful, death for me…probably before I’d have had the first cuff free. To my way of thinking at the time, no female was worth dying over.”

The way he watched her gave her goose bumps. She found herself asking, “And now?”

“Now I know better. Now…now I have a female of my own.”

Phoebe wrapped her arms around her waist, and chewed on her lower lip. She couldn’t deal with his claim right now. There was just too much to wrap her mind around. What he said about Lucifer killing him before he could free the female was probably true. But still, it bothered her that another of her kind would be treated like that. That
she
too could potentially be treated that way if she were discovered.

“How long ago?”

“Close to five hundred years, I guess.”

She drew a steadying breath and tried to take all the passing years into account.

“I heard rumors that the female eventually escaped and slipped away to Earth,” Sebastian said.

“What happened to her?” Was she still alive? Was there a possibility Phoebe might find her? Talk to her? Learn from her?

“I’m sorry.” Sebastian shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Her hope deflated, Phoebe sank back on the bed. She didn’t resist when Sebastian settled beside her and drew her close. She even rested her head on his shoulder, settled her hand over his heart. The circle of his strong arms shielded her, and she felt…comforted. Safe.

The candles snuffed out, and darkness plunged them into that strange intimacy again. She found herself drawing slow designs on Sebastian’s chest with light fingertips. But he didn’t complain, so she didn’t stop. She lay there for a long time, lost in thought. He must have understood she needed time to process all that he’d told her, because he remained silent.

“What if I don’t have any special gifts?” She’d voiced the fear aloud before she’d thought to filter. Fear that she did have special abilities, or fear that she didn’t? She wasn’t sure yet.

Warm lips pressed to her forehead, and his arms tightened around her.

“Then you’ll still be you,” he whispered against her skin. He was silent for a moment, and then he added, his voice only slightly teasing, “Honestly, I don’t think I’d mind at all.”

“Why?”

“Because…if I’m being totally honest…if you don’t have any gifts, then I can keep you out of the fighting, away from danger and safe. And I can continue to provide for you. Maybe someday you’ll start to depend on me. Maybe you’ll even begin to think of me as something you can’t live without.”

Phoebe caught her lip between her teeth and frowned.

I think that’s what I’m afraid of the most.

Chapter Fifteen

When Phoebe woke the next morning, Sebastian was curled around her once more. He’d tossed his leg over her thighs sometime in the night, caged her in his arms. She didn’t have to tug any sheets this morning to steal a peek; he’d kicked them off in his sleep. And his entire, very naked, very masculine body was on display for her viewing appreciation.

Still, she kept her focus above his neck. She remembered all too well the consequences of peeking. Look what had happened yesterday. No, no matter how much her body might be aching to melt in to him, to wake him with kisses and see where things went, she couldn’t give in to those urges. She had too much to get done today.

And until she got her seesawing emotions back under control, having sex with him was just a bad idea, plain and simple.

Carefully, she shifted and scooted until she’d managed to gain a little room. Then, before he could draw her back like he had the last time, she bolted from the bed and scurried for the stack of clothing she’d set out last night.

“Whaa? Hm?” His voice was groggy. He blinked at her, squinty-eyed, as he ran a splayed hand up the side of his face and into his wildly mussed hair. “Phoebe?”

She resisted the urge to shiver as the sound of his voice stroked through her.

“Time to get up and get moving,” she chirped with false cheer. Never mind the fact that it was still pitch dark outside and the jungle all around them was still asleep. She made short work of dressing, wound her hair up into a bun and shoved her glasses into place.

“I didn’t hear Ricardo,” he mumbled.

Throwing his arms wide, fisting his hands, Sebastian stretched, tempting her to look—to ogle—despite her resolve. She caught herself wavering, her focus slipping and sliding down that perfect chest, over those luscious abs, straight to his long, hard—

Her eyes snapped back to his face.

“Well, we’re up early.”
Perky, perky, perky.
Wait, no that didn’t come out right. Or did it?
Ugh!
“I’ll just go help Marco with breakfast.”

“Damn it, just give me a second to wake up,” he growled, grinding his palms against his eyes.

“No time to wait.” She jerked the tent flap open. “Lots to do.” And then she fled.

She couldn’t face him this morning. It was even worse than yesterday, and that was right after they’d had sex, for goodness sake. Hot, impulsive, soul-searing sex. But somehow, the connection they’d forged last night was far more…personal. She’d finally acknowledge that she wasn’t human. Not completely. Well, sort of acknowledged. She still couldn’t come right out and say it. Not yet.

Besides, she had yet to uncover any of these magical gifts, so she wasn’t sure how
not human
she was. And as far as the way her eyes went black, well, that was just…an anomaly. She wouldn’t even think about the fangs yet. Because if she thought about the fangs, then she’d be forced to think about the biting. And then—

Nope. Not going there.

Phoebe bustled around the campsite, pleased to note Marco was already up and about. He’d already rekindled the campfire, and had a pot of coffee simmering, bless his heart.

“Good morning,” she greeted him, doing her best to ignore the muffled cursing coming from her tent.

“Good morning,” Marco replied with a bright smile.

“Is Ricardo up yet?”

“I hear him stirring. I think he went into the trees a little while ago.” Marco pointed toward a tramped down path the men used when they slipped off to relieve themselves.

The sound of canvas slapping canvas drew her attention. She turned in time to see Sebastian step out. He paused there in the opening for a moment, and took in the campsite in one sweeping glance. And then he pinned her with a look. One so intense, one so loaded, she forgot to breathe.

He crossed the clearing in long, purposeful strides that had her heart tripping double time.

“Marco already has coffee ready if you’d like some,” she said, nerves making her palms begin to sweat.

And still he kept right on coming, uttering not a sound.

“Are you hungry?” Something flickered in his expression, and she scrambled for something to say, something to diffuse the tightness in her chest. “We have plenty of supplies. We could make—”

But he reached her side in that moment. Without saying a word, he thrust both hands into her hair, completely dislodging her bun, and dragged her close. Her hands went to his wrists, then his chest. The heat of him burned through the cotton. His heart beat steady and strong against her palm. Sebastian tipped his head down until his face was inches from hers and stared hard into her eyes. Phoebe lost the thread of her one-sided conversation.

And then he seized her mouth with his. Without uttering a sound, he demanded submission. Utterly ravishing her until she melted into him. The world spun for her, his lips, his hands, his body the only anchor she had. He kept her there, boneless and mindless, for a moment longer. And then he dragged his lips from her.

Still holding her in place, his eyes drilling into hers, he said, “You forgot my morning kiss, sweetheart.” With his hands still holding her head, he looked down over her body, lingered on those achy places and made them throb, before meeting her stare again. “I should probably warn you. If you don’t give me a kiss in there”—he jerked his head toward the tent—“then you better expect me to come looking for one. And just so you know, I don’t care who’s around, or how far I have to go to find you. I will get it.”

He moved his mouth closer to her ear, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through her veins as his slightly bristly cheek rasped against hers. “You might not want to make me wait too long or”—he moved into her again, deliberately brushing an unmistakable erection against her belly—“I could get a little carried away.”

“You could get carried away in the tent too,” she pointed out, breathless.

“I could.” He grinned, wicked to the bone.

Sebastian released her abruptly, leaving her standing there on legs limp as noodles. “I think I’ll take a cup of that coffee now,” he told Marco.

Just then, Ricardo stepped back into the camp. He watched the three of them with a great deal of speculation. The smug Sebastian. The dazed Phoebe. The grinning Marco. Ricardo accepted his own coffee and took a seat opposite Sebastian. And he watched, his expression thoughtful.

Breakfast was silent and hurried. Phoebe didn’t have much of an appetite, and ended up pushing most of her food round and round her plate, staring moodily into the campfire.

“You need to eat,” Sebastian said, drawing her attention.

She wanted to argue, but knew he’d only stated what she already knew. She had a long day ahead of her, best to start it on a full tank, so to speak. Yet her mind was too full to worry about how her belly might feel in a few hours.

“I’m done,” she said as she stood up.

“Phoebe,” Sebastian growled, then clamped his lips tight and shook his head.

After scrapping her plate into the fire, she dropped it along with her fork into the plastic tub they used for washing. Then Phoebe went to check her pack. As she dug through zippers to make sure her tools and supplies were in place, she tried to focus on the dig, on new ground she hoped to cover today, and on what she hoped to find.

But all she could do was keep replaying that kiss. Over and over and over. Damn him.

Angry at herself for letting him get to her like that, and flustered that he could when no one else ever had before, she pushed to her feet and looked to the sky. The first rays of morning had begun to paint the heavens in a masterpiece of colors.

“Let’s shake a leg,” she snapped, not even trying to pretend to be cheerful any longer. “I want to head out in the next ten minutes.”

The look Ricardo shot her said she’d be explaining herself pretty damned soon if she didn’t settle down. So, taking a deep breath, Phoebe hiked the pack onto her shoulders and clicked the straps into place.

* * * * *

The trek had been long and rife with weighted silence. But once she was elbow deep in dirt and artifacts, Phoebe finally began to relax. Before long, she was humming, all thoughts of magical gifts and inescapable legacies happily pushed from her thoughts.

A hand on her shoulder startled her. She glanced up from where she was kneeling on a thick bed of large flat leaves—Sebastian’s creation to pad her knees from the damp ground. He’d come up with the idea when she’d refused to let him conjure a more comfortable cushion for her.

He offered her a cantina. “Water?”

She knew what he was asking, as he’d made the same offer several times already this morning. Iced tea. Gatorade. Lemonade. Anything she wanted. Anything at all. All she had to do was ask.

“Water’s just fine,” she said with a smile, accepting the canteen. “Thank you.”

She tipped the tin to her lips and drank deeply of the ice cold, sweet water. And she suffered another pang of guilt when she remembered how she’d snapped and growled at him on the hike here.

He’d only asked simple questions, like why they’d made camp so far from their dig site. She hadn’t needed to be so short with him when she’d explained their logic. How they’d had their camp overrun one night in the past and lost not only their supplies, but also all the artifacts they’d unearthed. And how it had been too dangerous to try to take the camp—and therefore the dig site—back. He’d fallen silent then, limiting his questions to inquiries about her physical needs. Was she thirsty? Hungry? Did she need a break? All inquiries had been met with curt negative responses until he’d finally given up all together.

And so she was trying to be extra nice now.

He arched a brow, when she handed the canteen back. “Are you hungry? You hardly ate anything this morning.”

“Not yet.”

He didn’t like that answer. She could see it in his eyes but, to his credit, he withheld any further comment as he turned away.

“Sebastian, wait.”

He peered down at her, his expression guarded.

She’d been out of line earlier—all morning really—and she knew it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so crabby with you today.”

He considered her in silence, then nodded acceptance. “Give me some tools, show me what to do. I’m bored out of my freakin’ mind.”

She sat back on her heels. “I thought you were only along for security?”

“Trust me,” he said, leering down at her now. “I’ve only ever lost focus on my surroundings once in my life…in my
entire
life. And since I don’t think you intend to let me make love to you with an audience”—he shot a glance across the way toward Ricardo—“I think I can handle digging in the dirt and still manage to keep you safe.”

Her cheeks flamed. Clearing her throat, she stood and brushed her knees off. After rummaging in her pack, she came up with a backup set of tools. She brought the items to Sebastian. Kneeling beside him, she began instructing him on what to do. She was more than pleased to note he was a careful, adept student.

Once she was satisfied he’d be okay on his own, she gathered her tools and went to another location a short distance away that she’d had her eye on. The soothing noises of the tropical forest eased her into the zone. She lost track of time, lost touch with reality as she worked to unearth the corner of what appeared to be a rough, wooden box.

Frowning, she dug deeper, brushing away dirt and debris. This wasn’t an artifact. It wasn’t even all that old. Excitement flooded her. Oh, she’d seen this type of box before.

She began digging faster. “Sebastian!”

He was at her side in a heartbeat. “What? What’s wrong?”

She pulled the box free, held it up for his inspection as she brushed lingering dirt from the top. “Look!”

He frowned. “It’s a box.”

Phoebe was too caught up to be cautious, and she blurted, “My dad made this. I’d recognize his handiwork anywhere.”

She immediately began prying at the top, only to let out a muffled curse as a tiny spike of wood punched through her skin. Gritting her teeth, she inspected the wound.

“Let me see.” Sebastian took her hand. “It doesn’t look like it went very deep, but we better clean it out. Just to be sure.”

She knew better than to argue. Out here, even a tiny cut like this risked a very serious infection. Before she could tell him where the first aid kit was located in her bag, he conjured a small white tin case.

“Sebastian,” she hissed, glancing over her shoulder. But Ricardo’s back was still turned to them as he continued to plug away at his own little plot.

“Shh,” Sebastian said, his attention on her thumb. “He’s not paying any attention, and Marco is still back at camp. There’s no one around to see but the monkeys, and they promised not to tell.”

Chagrined, Phoebe sat back and watched as Sebastian administered to the miniscule wound as though he were performing major surgery.

“There,” he said as he smoothed the last bit of white tape in place. “All better. Shall I kiss it too?”

“It wouldn’t hurt anything,” she said, taking them both by surprise.

His grin turned far too sensual for her comfort, and he pressed his lips to the tape, lingering, holding her captive with his steady stare. But he didn’t stop there. Slowly, deliberately, he moved to the tip of the next finger, and then the next. One after another. Brushing each tip clean, and then kissing each one in turn. And then he moved his attention to the sensitive skin of her palm, working his way to her wrist. Like he had all the time in the world and intended to spend every second of it turning her bones to jelly.

And then, somehow, his mouth was on hers. A lazy, erotic glide of tongue, a caress of lips. On and on it went. He’d just eased his hand up to cup her jaw when Ricardo cleared his throat behind them. Loudly.

Breaking apart, they both glanced up to see Ricardo standing there, a small trowel in one hand, the other fist perched on his hip. His expression was impassive.

“If you two are about done, I found something.”

“What!” Her face lit up. “Where?”

Sebastian stood, offered a hand and helped Phoebe to her feet. She tucked the box beneath her arm, thanked him absently, and nearly ran to the area where Ricardo had been working, their kiss apparently forgotten already. Which chaffed, considering it had affected him so strongly he hadn’t even heard the old guide approach.