Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb (15 page)

G
rim materialized on the dewy lawn near the house. The early morning air smelled of pine and resin, splintered wood, fallen leaves, and river damp. In a nearby oak, a small bird sang
see see see
. There was no sign of Sassy on the dock. No robe-clad figure struggling in the relentless grip of the rolling brown water.

Pain and regret knocked him to his knees. He was too late. He had failed her.

She was gone.

The surface of the water parted and a siren shot out of the drink like a salmon leaping upstream. She landed on the pier. Water sluiced off her sleek body and honey-colored ringlets.

Grim's despair was displaced by a surge of lust. Clad in a short white shift that clung to her narrow waist and round hips, she was temptation itself, this siren. Her luminous skin was aglow. The thin garment molded to her high, round breasts. The blushing tips puckered beneath the damp silk's caress.

Something bright shone through the tunic. An undergarment of some sort, Grim's dazed brain realized, if you could call it that. A child's hair ribbon had more substance.

The nymph skipped to the end of the wharf, and Grim caught a tantalizing glimpse of slim, muscled thighs and firm calves.

“One, two, three, here I come,” the siren called.

She dove off the pier in a graceful arc and flashed through the water in a blur of motion, popping up in the middle of the river like a playful otter. A huge fish rose from the depths to meet her. Scaleless and dark with dull yellow markings, small, wide-set eyes, and a spiny dorsal fin, the thing was the size of a barge.

The creature opened its vast maw to swallow the siren. Raw terror catapulted Grim to his feet. To his astonishment, the fish puckered its bewhiskered mouth and squirted water in Sassy's face.

She sputtered and giggled. “Good one. You got me that time, boy.”

'Twould seem Sassy has made friends with a fish.
The Provider's tone was musing.
And a prodigious big one, at that.

Sassy did nothing in small measure.

Indeed, but Grim had to be sure. He merged his mind with the giant's. The tastes and smells of the river flooded his senses: muddy water ripe with decay; algae; rotting logs; insects, alive and dead; snails and fish. Primarily a bottom feeder, the fish preferred deep hollows beneath fallen logs and quiet, sandy depressions. It fed mostly at night and just before sunrise, and lived off plants, bugs, other fish, and birds. The fish had poor vision. It sensed Sassy through its whiskers more than it saw her.

In Grim's experience, fish were not deep thinkers. They were ruled primarily by basic urges like feeding, spawning, and avoiding being eaten. This, however, was not your average fish. In addition to its gargantuan size, this fish was old and aware.

Isolated, childless, and mateless, the fish was thoroughly captivated by Sassy.

The fish nudged Sassy like an overgrown puppy. It wanted to play.

“Again?” Sassy laughed. “Okay, if you're not too tired.”

Sassy grabbed a streaming whisker and held on. The fish swam away from Grim, towing Sassy behind.

Grim watched Sassy disappear in growing alarm. “Where are they going?”

To explore the far side of the river, I assume
, the Provider said
.

Never assume anything where Sassy was concerned. That much Grim had learned in their brief acquaintance.

With a curse, he dissolved in a shower of particles and reformed at the end of the pier.

Bring her back
, he ordered the fish.
You go too far.

Grim felt the fish's shock at the mental nudge.
Who?

I am Grim.
He struggled for a concept the fish would understand.
Her . . . mate.

The lie was a small one. It was not in his nature to fabricate, but that was not what disquieted him. He wanted it to be true. He wanted to find Sassy's betrothed and dispatch him. He wanted to do the same with Evan.

He wanted Sassy for himself.

Sweet Kehv, if he felt like this after one day, he would be utterly besotted in a week. As for when he left . . .

Grim's heart thudded and his palms went clammy. There was a vast difference between being alone and lonely.

He could request assignment here. Torture with Sassy handfasted to another. Much as he would enjoy rending Wesley limb from limb, he would not do so. He would do nothing to hurt Sassy.

Wesley. Bah, Grim felt sure the man was not worthy of Sassy.

Grim squelched the hot, ugly burning in his gut. He was not worthy of Sassy, either. She was joy and laughter and light. He was darkness and death, a warrior; a hunter and a loner, separated by guilt and grief, his hands and soul bloodied by eons of violence.

She deserved better.

No mate
, the fish said, as though reading his thoughts.
Fry play.

Grim winced. It was one thing to judge oneself unworthy, another thing altogether to be deemed lacking by a
fish
.

Bring her to me.
Grim added a push of power to the command.

The fish turned and the odd pair of playmates headed back to the wharf. Arms crossed, Grim waited, seething with impatience. This escapade was the last straw. Take the blasted fish out of the equation. What if Sassy had been swept downriver? The strongest swimmer could be overcome by treacherous currents. Snakes, muscle spasms, and simple fatigue: the dangers were manifold.

Then there was the witch. Had the Hag had been lying in wait, Sassy would be trussed up like a venison roast in the witch's oven at this very moment, a tasty, fairy-spiced snack.

The thought made Grim shudder.

Time to lay down the law for Milady Peterson. Her safety and his peace of mind required it.

Rule number one: No leaving the house unaccompanied.

Ever.

No exceptions.

Rule number two: No more climbing trees, or swimming alone, and absolutely no more—

The monster stopped some fifty yards from shore and began to thrash about. Sassy was thrown clear. She bobbed to the surface, unhurt.

A sensible person would stay clear of the floundering animal, but not Sassy. She swam straight for the giant fish.

Damn it, she would be crushed.

“Stay back, Sassy,” Grim shouted.

He dove in, boots and all, and reached her in a few swift strokes. Swimming up beneath her, he grabbed her ankle. She shrieked and kicked him in the nose. Pain exploded in his head. Gritting his teeth, Grim surfaced.

“That is twice in as many days,” he said. “What do you have against my nose?”

“Grim?” Recognition dawned in her wide eyes. “You scared me half to death. I thought something had me.”

“Something does have you.” Grim tugged her close. She felt wonderful in his arms, a perfect fit. “Little fool, have you no notion of danger?”

A tiny crease marred the smooth skin between her brows. “You mean Gilbert? He won't hurt me.”

“Gods above, never say you have named the thing. Next you will want to take it home and put it in a tub.”

“Don't be silly. Gilbert would never fit.”

She rested her palms against his bare chest and looked up at him. Grim's heart thudded, his body responding to her nearness. The water was cool, but her skin was warm. She pulsed with light from the fairy tonic. She was dazzling, mystery and sensuality in feminine form. She was wild and uninhibited, naiad, dryad, and elemental in one enticing form.

She had no notion of her power or her appeal. Men would kill for her, write sonnets to her beauty. Prostrate themselves at her feet like sacrificial lambs.

Grim was no poet. He knew only that he longed for her as a dying man longs for succor. He wanted her hands on him, and her succulent mouth. He wanted to taste and stroke her in return, memorize every delectable inch of her. He wanted to whisk her to some deep, hidden lair and devour her in slow, savoring bites.

But she was not for him.

Not for him.
Not for him.

His brain understood the mantra, but his body did not. Without conscious volition, his hands slid from her hips to her slender waist, his thumbs stroking her smooth skin. Gods, she was a miracle. Everything about her, from her out-of-control tresses to the lush curve of her bottom lip, drove him crazy. He wanted to cup her luscious bottom in his hands and take her, here and now.

He groaned at the thought.

“Grim, are you all right?”

He gazed at her lips and traced the line of her straight little nose with his fingertip. Her cheeks were flushed.

“No.”

“Does your nose hurt?”

“No.”

She exhaled in an irritated little huff. “
Grim.
Gilbert's caught on something. Part of a barbed wire fence, I think. We've got to help him.”

Grim pushed his randy thoughts aside. “Stay here. I will free him.”

“But, Grim—”

“No buts. Stay.”

Grim forced his hands from Sassy's waist and glided through the water to the trapped animal. Gilbert—merciful Kehv, now he was calling the creature by that ridiculous name—thrashed harder when he saw Grim.

Easy
, Grim was still merged with the animal.
I will not hurt you.

The fish quieted, though his large lips worked in alarm at Grim's approach.

Net?
A shudder rippled through the great fish.
Hook?

Grim examined the snare. A long length of twisted metal with spikes was wrapped around the fish's left pectoral fin.

Carefully, Grim untangled the cruel trap. “There.” He gave the big fish a friendly slap. “Be on your way.”

The fish surged away. Snagging a nearby log, Grim secured the wire to it and sent it downstream.

Sassy swam up to him. “Is Gilbert okay?”

“Gilbert is fine. No doubt he has gone in search of breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” Sassy's expression brightened. “What a wonderful idea. I'm starved.”

She darted away, quick as a minnow. She reached the end of the wharf in a blink and climbed onto the pier.

Grim forgot the pull of the river current. He forgot his waterlogged boots and his complaining belly.

He damn near drowned because he forgot to move his arms and legs.

He forgot everything but Sassy. Innocence and seduction combined, she stood in the morning sun, her glorious body on full display.

Grim's brain sounded the alarm. The warning was muffled by his thundering heart and a fierce rush of longing.

She turned and waved. The pink patch of cloth highlighted the sweet spot between her thighs. His hot gaze roved over her, his throbbing erection straining against his wet jeans.

She danced to the end of the dock. “What are you waiting for? I thought you were hungry.”

He was ravenous, but not for food. Not trusting himself to dematerialize and reform in one piece. Grim swam to the dock and climbed out, painfully aware that his aroused state was evident. He need not have worried. Sassy knelt at the end of the wooden platform looking out at the water.

That damned wet garment of hers had ridden up, exposing her heart shaped buttocks and the scrap of lace at the cleft.

Grim feared his cock would explode. With an effort, he willed his aching shaft to subside. This was what came of ignoring his sexual needs for so long. He would visit a thrall, and soon.

Today, after he met with Conall.

He had held on to his guilt for years as punishment. He would not do the same with his lust for Sassy. It was too uncomfortable and consuming. More to the point, it would interfere with his ability to protect her. An unemotional warrior was an efficient warrior.

He joined Sassy at the end of the pier. “What are you doing?”

His voice was husky with the effort to speak.

“Saying good-bye to Gilbert.” Sassy sounded forlorn. “Look, there he is.”

A long swell moved toward the dock, and Gilbert poked his snout out of the water.

“Thank you for helping me with my bucket list.” Sassy reached down and patted the river monster's slimy jowl. “I had a wonderful time.”

Gilbert rolled an eye at Grim.
Fry?

“The fry will be safe with me,” Grim promised. “You have my word.”

Gods, Duncan would never stop laughing if he could see Grim now: boots pouring water, shaft straining his breeches, pledging a vow to a fish.

Gilbert swam away with a swish of his powerful tail.

“He's gone.” Sassy got to her feet, her shoulders sagging. “I'll probably never see him again.”

Not if Grim had his way. Sassy was damn lucky her “friend” had not been a predator with a hankering for flesh.

Grim opened his mouth to tell her as much, and her light, floral scent filled his head, a perfume that was Sassy's alone.

Too close, a warning chimed in his head. He backed away, past caring if she noticed the bulge in his breeches. He needed distance to cool the fire in his blood and brain.

“What is a bucket list?” Grim clung to the question like a raft in a storm.

“It's a list of things you want to do. Mose helped me with mine.”

Grim processed her words with difficulty. He realized she was waiting for a response and cleared his throat.