Bound by Light (24 page)

His vision dimmed back toward human, but still he could see her in her form-fitting leather bodysuit, bow firm in her delicate, deadly hands. She had an arrow nocked, string taut and ready. The air hummed with her elemental energy, and wind rushed past Jake’s ears.

As he reached Freeman and Creed, Jake finished processing the scene before him and pulled up. The wind in the loggia died to a simple breeze, then stopped, leaving the cool April air oddly motionless. Jake’s demon senses receded another notch, and the night grew darker.

"Hey, bro." Creed holstered his SIG. "About time you got back from vacation."

Jake shot Creed a quick glare, understanding that this battle was over.

The OCU officers were checking pulses on the prone forms and shaking their heads. The four bodies on the ground—all of which appeared to be human—twitched a bit, but Jake knew they were already dead. The bitter, nutty scent of poison hung in the darkness.

"We gave two of these bastards leg wounds," one of the OCU officers examining the bodies called. "Nothing fatal from our weapons—I think they took themselves out with cyanide pellets."

Freeman tapped the mike on his shoulder and backed away from the Sibyls. Jake knew when he got far enough from the elemental energy Merilee and Andy created, he would call for the medical examiner.

"They were trying to create Asmodai," Creed explained as he swiped a wet shock of black hair out of his face, pulled out his flashlight, and clicked it on for the benefit of the OCU officers. Being half demon, Creed didn’t need the light any more than the Sibyls or Jake did. "One of the Sibyl rangers was close by and sensed the energy surge. These freaks had all the materials—and I think they were about halfway through the ritual. Probably planned to send them into the Republican rally after-parties. Too bad we couldn’t take one alive to question about Professor Holston’s disappearance."

Blood still hammering through his veins, Jake glanced at Andy, who stood in a growing slick of water. Little tongues of water licked up from cracks in the stone around her, splattering against her raid jacket.

"That’s another set of water pipes shot to hell," Captain Freeman muttered as he returned, but he didn’t sound too angry. In fact, he was smiling at Andy. His hands twitched like he wanted to touch her.

Andy flushed. "Hey, I knocked one of those assholes off his feet so you didn’t have to shoot him. Don’t bitch at me."

Freeman didn’t answer outright, but the look on his face was only an inch shy of adoring.

Andy grinned and looked away from him.

Merilee still had her back to Jake. When the officers finished checking the dead cult members, she eased off on her bowstring, pulled her unfired arrow free, and slid it into her quiver. Before Jake could speak to her, three Astaroths materialized around her, coalescing into long-haired men dressed in jeans and white sleeveless T-shirts.

The tallest of the three, Darian, and the smallest, Jared, each put a hand on her shoulders and spoke to her in low tones.

Jake’s attention zeroed on the contact points between Merilee and the two Astaroths like he was sighting a target.

To blow it to bits.

He moved before he had time to think. In three steps, he reached Merilee just in time to hear her laugh at something one of the demons said.

Rage frothed inside Jake. He grabbed Jared. "Move," he said, hearing the gravel in his own tone.

Merilee jumped and turned toward Jake as Jared raised one blond eyebrow and gave way, easing toward one of the stone archways and vanishing into nothing.

Jake threw the force of his sudden fury into the look he gave the other two Astaroths.

Darian took his hand off Merilee and vanished along with Quince, leaving Jake face-to-face with Merilee, barely an arm’s length from her tempting curves.

Obviously surprised, Merilee stared at him with her Mediterranean eyes. Her expression conveyed amusement mingled with remnants of energy from the battle.

Beautiful. And teasing. And maddening.

He wanted to kiss that adorable little scar on her cheek.

A warm breeze wrapped itself around Jake, rather like a sultry feminine caress.

In fact, exactly like a caress.

In the few seconds that followed, Jake got a devastating taste of what it might be like to have Merilee’s fingers rushing across his bare chest, across his entire body.

Which reacted way out of his control, just like his temper.

Merilee’s gaze traveled over his shoulders and chest, and lower, to the extreme bulge in his jeans.

Jake’s essence flickered, and that only pissed him off more.

What the fuck were you doing?

Those assholes
touched
you.

I’ll kill all three of them. Then we’ll talk.

All of these greetings flashed through Jake’s rapidly melting mind.

Fists tight, arms straight, he opened his mouth.

Hesitated.

Forgot how to talk. Remembered and growled, "Hello."

Loudly.

From somewhere close by, Creed snickered, and Jake considered beheading his sibling and feeding his guts to the pigeons.

Must . . . get . . . a grip . . . here . . .

He made himself breathe and turn loose some of the tension in his muscles. Merilee moved toward him until she was only inches from brushing his chest with her leather-clad breasts. The hot air enveloping Jake got hotter, exploring every inch of him.

All the tension came rushing back and concentrated in his cock.

Jake tried to get hold of himself. Couldn’t do it. Thought about sprouting wings and flying back to Greece. Squashed that idea, and came up with, "Let me take you home. It’s late."

Merilee’s eyes brightened. "Can we fly?"

Jake’s mouth came open.

He clamped it shut and collected his wits before countering with, "I just flew ten thousand miles in less than four days. I’d rather walk."

A whistle from Creed, and now Andy was laughing.
I’ll feed them both to the sewer rats.

The warm breeze rubbing all over Jake slowly faded away.

When he saw the disappointment on Merilee’s lovely face, felt it in the flagging of her elemental energy, he cursed himself for not realizing how much she would have enjoyed the open sky.

His eyes moved to her right forearm, where he knew the mark of the Dark Goddess was concealed by her sleeve. She was an air Sibyl, after all.

And he was a demon who didn’t want to have wings. Who didn’t even want to be a demon, even if that meant losing abilities this special, enticing woman might enjoy.

No doubt Darian and company would fly her if she asked.

He wondered if they
had
flown with her—in any way—and his gut churned with fast-building fury all over again. When he looked at her, he hoped she couldn’t see the insanity blotting out his caution and better judgment.

"Okay, then, I’ll walk with you." Merilee’s sweet voice drifted beneath the discussion of the officers waiting for the M.E., and Freeman telling Andy that her cute little ass and her underwater dart pistol better get lost before the regular uniforms showed up.

As for Creed, the son of a bitch was whistling a tune Jake recognized as Elvis Presley’s "It’s Now or Never."

Before he could say or do anything else to look like an idiot, Jake took Merilee’s soft, warm hand in his and led her out of Belvedere Castle.

(18)

By the time they got out of the castle, Merilee had adjourned the worried jury in her mind. The one urging caution, reminding her she was walking with a creature who tried to kill gods and twisted heads off necks with his bare hands. She also dismissed her lingering anger over his previous rejection and his weird comments about fairness and rightness.

The verdict was in, swift and definite.

She was taking this man—demon—whatever the hell he was—back to the townhouse and screwing his brains out, fair or right or not.

From the moment she saw him in the loggia—hell, from the minute she saw his naked ass getting out of her shower, no sense denying that—she had been blown away by wanting him. Physical attraction, yes, of course it was. Who wouldn’t want the hunk of the century? But it was more than that, too. It was that serious, totally unlaughing feeling he gave her. That deep emotion, so warm and intense it threatened to melt her insides to so much goo.

She even got a total kick out of his oh-so-obvious protectiveness, and that silly, irrational jealousy that almost made him eat two of his fellow Astaroths just for talking to her. Plus, the little-boy way he reacted to her drove her half insane.

She needed to take him to bed, maybe every night for, say, the next month or two at least. Later, they could worry about realities like fighting the Legion.

Assholes. How’s a girl supposed to have hot sex
when insane cults keep sending out Asmodai to disrupt political rallies?

Jake held her hand gently, and she noticed he wasn’t in a huge hurry as he guided her down a paved path around the center of the park. The others would probably get home well ahead of them, assuming formalities with the NYPD regulars didn’t take too long.

Wind rustled through trees, her wind, flowing from the rush of tension building in her belly. Her skin hummed with air as it moved beneath her damp leathers, stroking her like she wanted Jake to do. With each step, her bow and quiver offered soft pats against her back, barely keeping her focused enough to put one foot in front of the other. The night smelled like fresh grass, leaves, and damp earth. The park’s dark ambience and Jake’s spicy, exotic scent pushed away typical city smells—secret Caribbean islands, ripe with coconut and baked cinnamon and that unusual splash of pepper, or something hotter. Merilee couldn’t help imagining crystal blue waters and breaking surf, and straddling Jake’s muscled body on some deserted beach.

She was about to ask him if the flight home was pleasant when he said, "Mother Anemone sends her greetings and well wishes."

Merilee’s eyebrow arched at Jake’s tone, like he knew the Mother, and knew her well. Merilee glanced at his profile.
So handsome. I want to run my fingers through all that soft, blond hair
. "Uh, thanks. Do you—have you spent a lot of time with Mother Anemone?"

Jake’s expression, what she could see of it, didn’t change. "I spent a lot of time with her, yes. More than any other Mother."

This time, both of Merilee’s eyebrows flew up, and she almost stumbled. "Why?"

"Because she gave me more hope than the rest." Jake kept his eyes forward as they made a turn on the path, heading north toward the townhouse. "Russia and Ireland gave up on me almost immediately. At least Mother Anemone and Motherhouse Greece tried to help me."

Okay,
fine. Merilee concentrated on keeping her wind at a reasonable level. Branches swayed as they passed, and dust eddies stirred along either side of the path, making brownish-white streaks in the darkness.
Brave son of a bitch, isn’t he? Or crazy.

"What did you do back then, when you were just . . . hanging out at Motherhouse Greece?" She couldn’t help asking. It was so unusual for anyone outside of Sibyls to do this, much less be allowed to do it. "I mean, I know you didn’t just sit in your room and wait."

He shrugged without letting go of her hand, giving her arm a little tug. "I needed training to understand my vestigial memories. Some . . . assistance catching up in life, and finding direction."

Catching up in life
.

Merilee struggled with that phrase a moment, remembering that a few years ago, Jake had been a normal human boy. His own parents had subjected him to an unthinkable evil, stripping him of his body, his life essence, and converting him into an Astaroth for their own purposes.

Now, though, the child-Jake was long gone.

Once more, she let her eyes wander over the handsome, shirtless creature escorting her slowly through Central Park. This one was all man, grown and mature in every sense of the word. She had no doubts or questions about that, but a lot of scientific curiosity.

The rest of what he said settled in her mind as they walked. "Vestigial memories. Of course. I read about that possibility when I was studying you—er, Astaroths. You’re the first of your kind I’ve known with that ability."

Jake shook his head. "All Astaroths have vestigial memories. The others might not discuss it, or might keep the flashes of knowledge blocked away as much as possible."

The implication was clear. The shared memories of the Astaroth species must be burdensome or distressing, or at the least uncomfortable, or maybe overwhelming.

Her chest tightened as she wondered if Jake’s training had hurt him, physically or emotionally. She hoped not, and her eyes moved to the scars flecking his powerful pecs and biceps. For the sake of all the goddesses, the man really had endured his share of suffering. She squeezed Jake’s hand. "Are your memories painful when you have them? Intense?"