Dark Desires After Dusk (22 page)

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because I'm enjoying my first time ever being tipsy.”

“That's what this is about,” he said, relaxing somewhat. “When you sober up, you're going to be pissed at me.”

She pinched her forehead and muttered, “Now I fully comprehend the term
buzz kill
. I never did before.”

“You're calling me a—oh, now I've heard it all! The schoolmarm's calling the demon a buzz kill.”

“Schoolmarm? Ha! You just dated yourself again!”

Cade felt compelled to do something to shake Holly up. He could stand anything but this indifference.

He parked the car on the side of the road, then reached for her, cupping her face and drawing her to him. But she shoved at him. Hard.

Valkyrie strength—definitely growing.

“Don't you dare,” she bit out, her eyes flashing silver. “If I wanted to taste Imatra's lips, then I would have kissed her myself.”

“Fine.” He drew back. “I don't give a shite if you believe me or not.” Shoving the car into gear, he sped off once more . . . .

After an hour of silence, she murmured, “Slow down.”

“No. We've got time to make up.”

“Cadeon, slow down. I don't feel s'good.”

“How many bloody shots did you have? Two? Three?”

She gave a shaky laugh. “Bit higher.”

“Did they tell you it takes a while to hit?”

“They did, indeed.”

“Holly, how many?”

“I can say . . . with absolute certainty that the number was an integer, a multiple of three, and greater than or equal to nine—” Her head slumped forward.

*   *   *

It had taken Cade two uneasy hours to find even a somewhat decent hotel to stay in. Holly had been passed out, curled on her side in the seat, the entire time.

Just as he was carrying her to their new room, she blinked open her eyes, staring up at him.

So pretty.
His anger had already ebbed, and now that mere look of hers made his heart punch his chest. He sighed. “Baby, after nine shots, you're going to be completely legless—”

She gave a moan. “I'm going to . . .
lose my legs
?”

He couldn't help but grin at her woeful tone. “You're going to be drunk, blotto.”

When he set her on the bed, she lay back, but immediately cried, “Oh, God, it's spinning!”

He hurriedly dragged her leg to the side so she could touch her toe to the carpet. “Better?”

After a few moments, she murmured, “Better.”

“Ah, the things I could teach you. Now I'm going to undress you for bed.”

“I can do it,” she slurred, appearing to reach for the top button of her sweater, instead shoving her knuckle in her eye. “Yow! That
hurt
.”

“Let me do it—I won't look.”

In a solemn tone, she said, “Yes, you will.”

“Yeah, you're probably right.” He peeled off her sweater. “But it's nothing I haven't seen before . . . .”

Oh, but it
was,
he realized by the time he'd gotten her down to her stockings and her black lacy underwear. He'd never seen anything like this in all his life. He exhaled a stunned breath, muttering, “
Ah, gods, halfling, I could come just looking at you.
”

“Hmm? What'd you say?”

She was exquisite in her silky lingerie and thigh-highs. All that swimming had done her body so damned right.

Her arms and legs were toned, but she'd retained her softness. Her hips flared from her tiny waist. Creamy breasts spilled over that wicked half-cup bra.

She had a sexpot figure and would for the rest of her immortal life; he wanted to howl with pleasure just to be gaping at it. He reached for her breasts, his hands itching to knead them—

“Didya say something, Cadeon?” she asked softly.

He drew back his hands, making white-knuckled fists. Once more, he reached for her, again drawing back. He paced, struggling to blunt his hunger. His fantasy woman was laid out in the bed like an offering in silk—and he couldn't touch her.

Then he narrowed his eyes. If he wasn't going to take advantage of her, he'd at least get some answers. “Yeah, pet. Got a question for you . . . .”

G
ood morning, sunshine!”
Cadeon boomed by her ear.

Holly shot up, immediately clutching her head with a groan.

“Or good evening, rather,” he said. “I let you sleep as long as I could, but we're on a schedule, you understand. And some of us like to keep a regimented schedule.”

“Oh, God. I'm in hell.”

“I've got the night all planned out. You're going to shower because you smell like a cask of hundred-proof, and then we're going to train. Once on the road, you're going to look up our destination. If you're not too hung over. Here, drink this.” He opened a bottle of Gatorade, obviously giving care not to touch the rim.

She squinted at the bottle, then at her hands, which were both reaching for the drink. Soon she was chugging it down.

“Eat these,” he said, handing her an unopened box of regular Saltine crackers, which she tore into.

For some reason, at that moment Gatorade and Saltines were
sublime
.

She began to feel better in minutes. “Thank you.”

“I live a life of service. Speaking of which, do you need any help getting dressed? Like you did getting undressed?”

At his words, all the events from the night before flashed in her mind, and her eyes went wide.

Not only had Cadeon been with Imatra last night, he'd also taken advantage of Holly's first bout of drunkenness.

Through the haze of alcohol, she remembered him questioning her, coaxing answers from her about all kinds of things—
private
things. His voice had been so lulling, his demeanor relaxed.

Now she realized she'd been played.

Her face flamed as she recalled her disclosures: She didn't touch herself ever—because she swam laps when the need got too strong, or else she had vivid dreams and would wake up right in the middle of . . . she thought he'd actually supplied the word
coming
.

Shaming, but true. She'd often dreamed of vigorous sex to the point of physical reaction . . . .

Her hands clenched, anger warring with her abject embarrassment. And then, she'd admitted to him that she was curious about sex, but that any intimate situation she'd been in had always ended up with her hurting someone.

She shook her head hard. His behavior was beyond low. He hadn't taken advantage of her body, but of her mind—

He began drawing the cover off of her. “Fine, halfling, I'll help.”

She yanked at the top sheet, irritably wrapping it around herself as she stumbled to her feet.

“Okay, now you
really
don't need to do that blushing virgin bit anymore—I got to ogle your body at my leisure for hours. Matter of fact, I had so long, I could have painted you, instead of just taking pictures with my sat-phone.” He held up his phone with a wink.

“I loathe you,” she said, precariously bending to collect
her toiletries and clothes. As she headed for the bathroom, she gave him the evilest eye she could muster . . . .

A long hot shower cleared much of the cobwebs from her head. And her stomach had settled. Once she emerged from the bathroom dressed for the day, she felt like a human being again.

She sighed.
Or not.
She couldn't truly say.

“How're you doing?” he asked.

“I'm perfectly fine.”
I think I'm beginning to hate you. Which is good. I should be happy about that. It'll help me keep my eye on the prize.

“You're pissed about last night.”

“Shouldn't I be? You took advantage of me.”

“I didn't touch you!”

“You know that's not what I'm talking about,” she snapped. “You interrogated me.”

“You're angry that I happened to ask you some questions when you happened to be drunk? I can't figure it. But that doesn't matter. At least you'll be jacked up for training time.”

“What is this training you keep talking about?”

“I need to teach you how to fight. Sparring, self-defense.” When she made no move to cooperate, he said, “Come on, it'll be fun.”

She raised her brows. “I do believe I took down a dozen demons all by myself.”

“You said yourself that you were in a rage. What if you don't go into that state again? Or what if you want to fight someone off without killing him? As long as your life's in danger, you need to be preparing.”

Sometimes she found herself forgetting that assassins wanted to murder her. “Would this involve hitting you?”

“Maybe.”

Nothing could be more compelling to her right now. “Then I'm in. What do you want me to do?”

“Take off your heels.”

Once she'd removed her shoes, he motioned for her to stand facing him. “If you take nothing else away from what I'm about to teach you, remember two things: Never hesitate. If the instinct to strike is there, then do it. And second, don't be ashamed to run if you're outnumbered—but only if you think you can get away. Otherwise you're just wasting everyone's time and wearing yourself out.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

“Now, how would you engage me if we were facing off? Say you had to get past me or you die.”

“I'd try to hit you?”

“Unless you're battling another chick—which I wouldn't mind seeing if mud were involved—you shouldn't punch at all.”

She pursed her lips. “I watch TV. What would a fight be without punches?”

“Okay, slug a haymaker at me.” At her frown, he said, “You watch TV but
never
boxing? Forget it. A haymaker is an all-out, full-force hit.”

The idea of battering his arrogant face had her clenching her hand in a fist.

“Do it now! Hit now—”

She did, aiming for his face; he turned so that the blow landed against his horn.

“Ow! That was unfair!”

“Don't ever strike a demon above the throat. He's going to use his horns in combat. And some of them can emit a poison from the ends.”

“Can you?”

“Yeah, but only when I'm in complete rage form.”

“So what you're saying is that you're toxic, and you can even be poisonous, too?”

He gave her an unamused look, then continued, “Even with other species, you should never go for the head. Think about it—most of it is covered by hard bone. The odds of hitting vulnerable areas like the mouth or nose aren't good. And if you land a hit anywhere else but those two spots, you'll likely hurt your hand more than your opponent. But that doesn't mean you can't attack the face. You can gouge eyes out, and rake your claws down a foe's cheek. Or you can give him a ‘Glasgow kiss.' ”

“What's that?”

“A head-butt. Say I've got your arms wrapped tight at your sides, and you can't get free. Just snap your head forward, aiming your forehead for the bridge of your enemy's nose.”

“What about the old standby of kicking a guy in the groin?”

“Try it.”

Love to . . .
Without warning, she launched a kick. He caught her foot, forcing her to hop for balance.

“Cadeon!” she cried, and he finally released her.

“I could have tossed you backward. If you're going for the groin, use your hands. It only takes a little force to do a lot of damage there. And most males won't expect a small female to go for a grab. Now try to hit my torso. Charge me! Now! Do it!”

She did, but he snatched her hand. Using her momentum, he spun her around, looping his arm around her neck.
“That's all it would take, Holly. Your adversary could break your neck.”

They were both breathing heavy, his forearm easing down to her breasts. She narrowed her eyes. He'd done this entire sparring scenario just to get her in a position like this.