Authors: Deidre Knight

Red Demon (39 page)

BOOK: Red Demon

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He paused, blotting a rivulet of water from his neck. Perhaps Mason had been lying, he thought brightly. Trying to protect Nikos from the demon’s violent jealousy.

But then those hopes crashed and burned as he remembered Mace’s words from the night before. They would never be more than friends; the man had made that much abundantly clear.

No, they were fighting partners, nothing more. He couldn’t allow himself to think otherwise. They were fellow warriors, linked by those tethers that bound all men who fought together in the trenches.

Nik groaned, rubbing the towel back and forth across his eyes. “We are friends. That is all,” he muttered aloud, wishing he could convince his heart of that truth.

“God, you look good with wet hair. Fucking gorgeous.”

Nik froze, towel at his face. Mason had come downstairs after all. And maybe . . . shit, maybe he wanted to make things right between them.

Slowly Nik lowered the towel and found Mason propped against the bar, watching him through hooded eyes. The man was sinfully handsome, always had been, but something in his gaze felt more dangerous than usual.

No way was Nik playing this game again, not after last night, not after the humiliation of that failed kiss. He made for the steps. “I better get dressed,” was all he said, but Mason was behind him with almost preternatural swiftness.

He placed a warm, strong hand on Nik’s arm, turning him. “Don’t go. I want to be with you,” he said, and Nik’s heart began beating like a war drum. “And by the look in your eyes, I’d say you want me, too.”

Nik blinked, surprised, but with hope stirring anew. Mason smiled up at him flirtatiously, lowering his thick lashes with an almost feminine flare. “Oh, come on,” Mace teased, planting a hand on the wall beside Nikos, framing him. “I’m not that shocking.”

Something felt off, even as Nik’s emotions soared like the winged warrior he was. “I . . . this . . .”
This is all I’ve wanted for months, all I need.
“This . . . is a significant change in outlook, Mason,” he finally managed to say.

Mason moved closer, backing Nikos against the wall. “Please. Just one kiss?”

Mason braced a steadying hand against the stair railing, feeling like his shaking legs were about to give out. Mortar attacks, roadside bombings, holding Kelly as he died—he’d endured them all and never passed out. But the scene he was watching now? It felt like someone had just aimed an AK-47 dead at his heart and fired the fucking thing.

How could Nikos do it?
That was all Mason could think as he gaped at the scene unfolding before him.

He’d come downstairs to get Juliana. But the last thing, the most insane thing he’d have ever imagined, was waltzing in and finding Nikos kissing that demon—with her looking exactly as she had that nightmarish night in Iraq. He recognized how powerful she was, working those seductions and caresses, but Nikos?
His
Nikos? How could he fall prey to the female Djinn’s damned wiles?

Mason’s throat constricted painfully; he couldn’t even find his voice. Nik was sprawled on the sofa, the female demon wrapped up in his arms like a beauty queen—and he was kissing her with an obvious enthusiasm that made Mason feel ill.

Nikos released a quiet moan, and Mace went from being paralyzed to going straight up ballistic. With a roar, he hurled himself across the room, eating the distance with long strides.

Nikos jerked upward, staring at him in shock. “Who . . . ?” he asked, then stared in horror at the woman in his arms. She just smiled up into Nik’s eyes, beaming at him.

Nikos gave her a light shove, trying to shake her off him, but she clung to his strong torso like a lover. She even had the gall to tremble, leaning into his very masculine protection.

Mason vaulted over the back of the sofa, landing gracelessly atop the pair. “Fucker!” he cried, seizing hold of Nik’s robe with shaking hands. “You motherfucker!” He dragged Nikos from beneath the demon, hauling him against the far wall with a loud thwack.

“Mason, gods,” Nikos tried to say, looking over at the demon as if he were seeing her for the first time.

“Her, Nik? That demon?” Mason said in a low, dangerous voice. “How could you? Anyone but her. Anything else.” Mason released the thick folds of terry cloth that he’d been twisting in his hands. “Guess I was right, though, when I asked if you wanted me to start putting out.” He shoved Nikos in the chest, hard. “Well, you got your one kiss, didn’t you? Just not from me.”

Nikos flinched at those words, paling visibly. He sagged against the wall as if Mason had just struck him. “But I thought . . . I believed it was . . .” Nikos sighed, a truly heartbroken sound. “It
was
my one kiss.”

Some demons could give humans visions, make them see shit that wasn’t there at all.

The reality of the situation washed over Mason with a sudden, appalling clarity. “Oh, God. She made herself look like me?”

Nik swallowed and gave a single nod of affirmation, his large brown eyes filled with anguish. “The whole time I . . . I was holding
you
in my arms. Never her.”

She’d made Nik believe he was getting the one thing the Spartan wanted—the kiss Mason had denied him last night. The demon, so typically cruel, had used Nikos’s own feelings as a weapon against him. And she’d manipulated the situation in an effort to divide them . . . to put them at each other’s throats.

“If we’re fighting each other,” Mason said softly, “then we’re not fighting her.”

Nikos answered in a low voice, eyeing the demon menacingly. “I wouldn’t have kissed that . . . thing . . . willingly.”

“He was certainly passionate about it,” the demon volunteered, staring at her fingernails absently.

Something broke inside of Mason right then, all the rage and hurt he’d felt morphing into cold, lethal confidence.

He stalked toward the demon. “Not this time, you don’t,” he pronounced icily. “You do not so much as
touch
the ones I love.” Mason seized hold of the demon, shaking her by the shoulders. “Not a hair on their heads.”

She worked her face into an expression of mock innocence. “Love? Hmm, such passion for this big Spartan. I wonder what Kelly would think.” Then she waved her hand dismissively, giving him a slow, burning smile. “Of course, some things really are better left dead and buried, right?”

That was it. Mason slid his hand about her throat with choking force. “Reveal your true self. The one I saw the night you killed Kelly, the claws and scales and wings. Expose yourself, and let’s fight. Come on, you little bitch—manifest!”

Ari came barreling into the room, undoubtedly having heard the commotion. The minute he saw Mason’s death grip on the Djinn, he went bug-eyed. “Where’s Jules?” he demanded, lunging toward Mason. “Tell me where Juliana is!”

The demon rasped out a taunting laugh. “She’s right here. This is still her body, but I can make it appear . . . altered. Just as I brought her back to life.”

Mason tightened his hold on the demon. “Tell. Me. Your. Name,” he growled. “Yield to me, demon. Give me your true Djinn name.”

“Let her go, man,” Ari tried reasoning, pulling at Mason’s hands, working to free the demon from his grasp. “I know she’s a demon, but my Jules is still in there. Mace, come on. Don’t kill her. Don’t destroy the Djinn before we can free my girl.”

The mortal was still inside, Mason reminded himself. Juliana was an innocent, one of those he’d sworn to protect. Beyond that, he’d promised Aristos to help her at all costs.

With a groan, he eased his hold on her. “It’s okay,” he reassured Ari. “I’m all right. . . . Don’t worry.”

Ari moved in on the demon. “Juliana!” he bellowed in anguish, as if searching for his lover somewhere inside that demon’s body. “Where’s my Jules?” he asked, eyes turning silver as several lights exploded over the bar.

“I have a piece of news for you, demon,” Mason announced boldly, stepping in front of Nikos and body blocking Aristos. It was a subtle maneuver, but that demon would have to plow him under if she intended to harm either man. “It’s not so much news as a number, really. Four hundred and twenty-eight.”

She said nothing, her eyes drinking him in. The lust was obvious, despite everything that had happened between them.

“That’s the number of your kind that I’ve killed so far as a demon hunter. Pretty healthy career, don’t you think? But my real point is more of a message. For you. That you’d better start memorizing a different number,” Mason said with a calm laugh. “Four hundred and twenty- nine. That’s
your
number, Djinn, and it’s coming up very soon.”

“Mason Angel, how manly you are,” she trilled in response. “Killer instinct, warrior code . . .”

Mason cut her off. “Four hundred and twenty-nine,” he repeated. “And I’m coming for you.”

“Well, Mason Angel, if you’d done that when we first met, things would’ve been much easier. Wouldn’t they?” The Djinn tilted her chin upward, giving him a coy, sensual smile. But then she grew unexpectedly weaker; the intimidation he’d been wielding was a literal weapon, one that could level any demon if he inflicted his threats with enough force.

In horror, she began hissing. “Too soon,” she said, spitting and shaking until her teeth rattled. “I am in charge! I rule this temple!”

“Shit!” Mason said, staring at the demon in shocked wonder. Right before all their eyes, her image began wavering and realigning—until Juliana stood before them all, appearing terrified and very confused.

“Tell me you’re all right,” Ari insisted, pulling Jules against his side. They sat on the sofa, she with a shaky, weakened demeanor that had him panicked. Mason and Nikos had cleared out, allowing them a few moments of privacy, a good thing considering how unsettled Jules was—even more than earlier, in the truck.

She leaned into him. “I was in the bedroom, and then suddenly . . . I was out here, and all of you were shouting and staring at me. Everyone was so angry and upset.” She looked into his eyes. “I don’t remember anything about what happened this time. Unlike the events at the restaurant, when I was able to recall a bit of what happened.”

Ari held her close, stroking her hair and trying to soothe her. But he wasn’t calm himself, not by a long shot.

Jules had quite an aggressive alter ego, it seemed, and as much as that angered and frustrated him with the cursed Djinn, his primary concern was for Juliana’s well-being. She needed him strong and collected, not running rough-shod with his emotions. And he needed to find out as much as possible about the demon they were dealing with.

“Jules, baby,” he tried gently. “Do you remember anything about a woman? One with long dark hair, exotic skin? Is that what your . . . uh . . . angel looked like?”

Juliana’s face distorted into a mask of suffering. She quickly signed, “If I tell you the truth about her, she’ll hurt you.”

He shook his head, then said aloud, “No. No, that’s not true. I’m strong and alive. So are you. We can sort the rest out. You know that we can.” He tugged her up against his chest. “Lies are the only thing that can keep us apart.”

Juliana moved backward on the sofa, separating their bodies. She planted both hands on the cushions, giving him a determined, resolute stare. “I have not deceived you, not intentionally. Aristos, you must believe me.”

But
did
he? For a crazy moment, he honestly wasn’t sure what he thought at all. Especially after decades of mourning her death, blaming himself for it, only to have her here—beside him—once again. To learn that she’d gotten here by bargaining with a demon was nearly too much.

He bowed his head. “I know you love me.” That much was true, and he meant the words.

“But do you still love me?”

“Of course I do. I never stopped,” he reassured her. “I never would, sweetheart.”

“No matter what I’ve done?” she asked, searching his face.

And suddenly she wasn’t the only one shaking. His heart began slamming like a mother inside his chest. “What do you mean? . . . What
have
you done?”

She leaped off the sofa, frantically moving about the room.

“Juliana,” he asked more firmly. “Tell me what you mean. What you’re talking about.”

“I’m afraid that’s the worst of it,” she admitted, turning to him with a hopeless expression. “I really don’t know. Just promise you will forgive me.”

He seized her by the shoulders, forcing her to stand still. Every question that he should’ve asked, about how and why she’d managed to come to him from beyond the grave—all of it came crashing down on him in an instant. Mason had been right about that; none of them had asked nearly enough questions.

“Juliana, what have you been hiding from me?” he roared, and she burst into tears.

“Won’t you promise that you’ll still love me? I thought you believed in me . . . in our love.” She swiped at her tears.

“Jules,” he said, feeling his own eyes burn. “You’ve hooked up with a demon. Of course I love you, but . . . you’ve lied to me about it?”

BOOK: Red Demon

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