Phoenix Broken (8 page)

“Women,” the demon hissed. “They're pathetic.”

Daimen nodded. “I quite agree.” He ran his tongue over his lips as he moved down the hall.

Yes, pain was so sweet.

Soon he would have enough to gorge on.

Scott stood outside of Centaries, gritting his teeth. He shouldn't be here.

It'd been three days since his last 'visit'. Swing obviously wasn't on the menu tonight. House music thrummed through the doors; a throbbing tribal beat that matched the primal roar of Scott's own pulse.

Something was being kept from him. He wanted to know why.

After reading the report that Scott had indeed seen Docie May at Centaries, confirming the rumors, Jules floored him by issuing an order to cease and desist all recon until further notice.

When questioned, ol’ kemosabe had pulled rank, something Jules almost never did. He would only say that things were being 'looked into'.

Scott knew he should accept that. Usually he would've. That's how convert operations worked. Standard fucking operating procedure.

But this was a lead on Fan's killer they were talking about—and Jules had locked up so tight—Scott knew he was hiding something major.

He and boss man had almost come to blows less than an hour ago. Which had led Scott here, looking at a door and wanting the answers he knew might lie on the other side of it. Still, he hesitated, a lifetime of following orders holding him back. Fannie’s smile flashed in his head.

Yeah, fuck that Semper Gumby bullshit.

He opened the club doors and stepped inside, the music and heat swallowing him whole.

Scott glanced across the crowded room. The dance floors were lit in the familiar neon rainbow from before, but the crowd was no longer the edgy suit and A-line skirt crowd.

There was more flesh visible than fabric, most of it pierced in strategic places and covered in vivid tattoos. He made straight for the bar, but stopped well short of it. His hands tightened into fists as the other reason for his recent descent into insanity came into view.

Desdemona Baptiste was sitting on said bar.

He'd dreamed of her every night since the last time he'd stood here.

In vivid, excruciating detail. Scott had lost count of the times he'd woken hard, swollen and cursing her name. He'd come so many times thinking of her, he’d have thought his cock would be impassive by now, but no. As soon as he saw her, the damn thing stirred to life.

Her long hair was loose; a wild, honey brown mane spiraling down her silky shoulders, the golden tips brushing the polished surface of the bar. She was wearing a scrap of red shimmery fabric that left her back bare nearly to her curvy little ass. Lethal scarlet heels that matched the dress caught the light as her pretty feet swung back and forth. She looked happy and completely at ease. A big, swarthy guy with black hair and a ten-thousand dollar suit stood next to her.

Scott hated him on sight.

The man leaned forward, putting a large hand on one taut thigh as he whispered something in her ear. She threw her head back and laughed, slapping his brawny shoulder as if they were old buddies. That throaty, wicked laugh. Hearing her use it on this guy grated.

Stupid. She wasn't shit to him except temporary insanity induced via cock. He shifted himself in his pants and frowned.

Walk away,
what was left of his mind ordered,
walk away and ignore her.
He was here for Docie May and a way to Cross. No distractions, goddamnit. That woman was the epitome of distraction.

But… what the hell was she doing here anyway? Maybe it was nothing.

Maybe it wasn’t. He didn’t give a fuck.

Maybe he did.

Scott headed toward the bar.

That sexy laugh was still ringing out when he took the seat right next to where she perched. The Italian-looking dude frowned. Des followed his gaze to Scott. Her feet stopped swinging and her laughter died.

"Well, this is ...interesting." he bit out the words, before waving over the bartender and ordering a beer.

"For a guy who made it crystal clear he never wanted to set eyes on me again, I'm confused as to what you're doing here?"

Scott hated how tempted he was to close his eyes, just to soak in that smooth island purr of his fantasies.Instead, he took a quick swallow of beer, considering his words before replying.

"Watching you work, I guess."

He saw her lips press together out of the corner of his eye. Her companion spoke up, his voice deep and rough, like sandpaper over stone.

“A jealous ex-lover,
polteriitae saed?”

His hand trailed over her leg again, cupping her knee as he watched Scott. It sounded like some sort of endearment, but Scott didn't recognize the language. Something dark and ugly rose inside him at the sight of the man’s fingers on her skin.

“Nah, I don’t think one blowjob a lover makes.”

Her soft grey eyes widened on his before going empty. Desdemona hitched one shoulder, then turned away as if Scott wasn’t even there.

“Wanna dance, Guido?”

The big man looked down his crooked nose at Scott, who could feel the anger emanating from those black depths. Danger.

Danger, Will Robinson.
His head started to ache and burn. Demon. Chaos burned in those eyes. It was one of the only ways to tell a demon from a human. There were others; a certain way of moving, a little too fluid, a hair too slow. The skin slightly warmer than the norm. But chaos was the definitive marker. A human couldn't hold the gaze of a riled demon. Des hadn't seemed to have inherited enough of it to bother him, or she'd just never been pissed enough yet when looking at him. This guy was pissed enough.

Inside Scott, instinct surged to life; all bells and whistles and shrill alarms. Scott pushed away from the bar, preparing for an attack that didn't come.

This Guido only smiled tightly and held out his hand to Des, “Absolutely, Dee.”

She jumped down from the bar, landing lightly even in those icepick heels. Her small dusky hand was swallowed by the man's much larger, darker one. Scott pressed his lips together so hard his jaw ached as he watched the two of them get sucked into the crowd.

His fingers tightened on the bottle of beer as he drained it. Slamming the empty back on the bar, Scott rubbed a hand over his face.

What the hell was he doing? Docie May was nowhere in sight, and in this mess of bodies he wouldn't see her if she was. He'd been ordered to stay clear of this stupid place by his boss, and yet here he was. Poking at something that was bound to blow up in his face.

Scott rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. Then he opened them and ordered another beer.

He'd always liked fireworks.

“Davidson is
not
to know you're working this. It shouldn’t be an issue. Gentry will tell him to stay clear of Centaries. You won't see him again.”

Miles’ words ran in Des' head as Guido led her onto the floor.

Obviously, her Johnny wasn’t in the habit of doing as he was told. She sighed and leaned into Guido. As always, she found his warmth comforting.

He'd been glad to see her again. Surprised, but happy she'd come to visit, though he’d seemed a bit distracted when she'd called. That had been a couple days ago. Guido hadn't been able to get together until tonight.

It'd been his idea to meet here at Centaries. She hadn't argued, though she didn't know who she was supposed to be looking for here yet. Miles hadn't deigned to tell her. He'd rushed back to France on business and refused to talk details over the phone. Des had instructions to go to Phoenix Inc. tomorrow to find out her 'target'. The vampire had advised before he left that security was already assigned to her; that she shouldn’t expect to see them, but they were there. Supposedly she was safe.

Funnily enough, Des didn’t feel 'safe'. Not under the protection of a vampire known for killing hundreds of demons. This was what her father had wanted, though. For some reason Augustine had believed in his enemy's ability to keep her safe.

Des sighed. Maybe it was nothing more than the thought of faceless eyes upon her that was making her feel out of sorts tonight.

Or not.

She glanced back at the bar over Guido's arm. Scott was still there. Tension tightened that broad back, straining the fabric of his black shirt. She blinked, then looked up into a pair of brooding dark eyes.

Guido's arms tightened around her. “What is wrong,
polteriitae saed?
Surely it isn't the stupid human?”

She shrugged, resisting the urge to look back at that blond head bent over the bar.

“Nah, the stupid human was a bad decision, that's all. I am in the habit of making them.”

Guido raised an eyebrow, then chuckled. “This I know. Do you remember the bees?”

Oh god. The bees.

She’d been what, eleven? No, twelve. There'd been a small cliff above a swimming hole she loved. One day she'd spotted bees coming in and out of that overhang, high in the rocks above where she’d been splashing in the water. Des was a fearless climber and she loved honey. Her mother rarely let her have sweets of any sort and the temptation of such a treat was too great. She’d got the mad idea it should be easy. The bees had thought differently.

Des smiled up at him. “How could I forget? I still have the scar from that fall. Not to mention the memory of getting precisely twenty-seven bee stingers pulled from my stupid ass. Mama counted. How many did you get again?”

He rolled his eyes. “I didn't count. Thank
omno
for that pool. “

“Thank
omno
for you.”

Guido had shown up just as the bees had come to the conclusion they had an invader. They attacked en masse. Des lost her balance on the narrow ledge. Rolling and skidding, in fear and pain, she just managed to wedge her fingers in a crevasse before going over the cliff. She’d been hanging on for dear life, trying not to scream as Guido climbed up, hand over hand. No doubt he’d been silently cursing her the whole time, but outwardly he’d been calm.

His familiar rasp of a voice had been the only thing that kept her from falling as the bees stung her again and again.

Once Guido was close enough, he tucked her under his big body to shield her from the creatures as best he could. By then there'd seemed to be thousands of the tiny, violent insects. With little choice, Guido threw them both off the cliff, hitting dead center of the small pool by some miracle. She’d opened a 3-inch long gash in her side from a wayward rock that stabbed at her as they fell, but she’d been lucky. Guido had broken both a leg and an arm. Being demon meant he healed almost overnight, but his injury had made her sick with guilt.

Their fathers had been equally furious, for very different reasons. That was the first time Valencio Calimente tried to ban Guido from coming to their estate. It wouldn't be the last.

“I always watched out for you. It was my duty.” He always said that. Whenever she tried asking Guido what he meant, he’d only smile and shrug. It seemed strange since his father hated her so much, but he'd always took on the role of her protector. “A hard, thankless task it was, too.”

She laughed again. “No doubt. I put you through a lot of sh—“

The words died on her lips as she spied Scott over Guido’s arm. He moved like a big cat; all masculine grace and power, his destination unmistakable. Des tensed as those dark green eyes found hers. Despite what she'd said to Guido, the stupid human had most definitely gotten to her. She just couldn't place her finger on
why.

Guido tensed in tandem with her, straightening his spine before the
para
tapped his shoulder.

“Go away, human.” Guido said without turning. “You’re not wanted.”

“I'm cutting in. We never got a slow dance.”

Scott ignored Guido—something that was just not
done
—speaking directly to her. His gaze so intense and compelling, a shiver ran down Des’ spine. Guido felt her reaction. His voice fell to cruel snarl that hurt the ears. “I won’t tell you again, bestia—“

Scott cut him off. “Let her tell me.”

Fury tightened Guido’s heavy muscular frame. Despite herself, Des bit back a smile.

Guido wasn't used to being ignored, dismissed or interrupted. Let alone all three in less than a minute. Her Johnny was either very brave—or quite stupid.

She squeezed Guido's arm gently, going on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. "
Montiiro, deeond que hec
. Please."

He stared down at her for a minute. "Are you sure, Dee?"

At her nod, he dropped his hands and turned to face Scott. He smiled, all flashing white teeth. The smile Guido reserved for creatures he intended to kill.
Slowly.

Des sighed, watching Scott’s face as Guido left them. A muscle ticked in his lean jaw before the
para
turned back to her. He pulled her to him slowly, carefully—as if he wasn't quite sure he wanted to touch her. Des rested her hands on his broad shoulders with a certain reluctance of her own. In her case, it had nothing to do with not wanting to touch him.

Oh
no.
She wanted to touch this man all over.