Unearthed (8 page)

So he wouldn’t kill her. Not yet. But they could still have fun, couldn’t they?

“What you waiting for, puppet? Pretend I’m him, the big, scary vampire who fucked you up.” He held his arms out, mocking her, prodding her. “What are you going to do to get yourself killed?”

They’d circled each other, her gaze tracking his movement, as well as their positions in the alley.

“They’re watching us,” she stage whispered.

“Who?” He hadn’t noticed any humans in the alley, but then, he’d been slightly distracted. “Where?”

She flicked her head towards the entrance to the alley, still lit up by fire. As soon as he turned his head to look, she jumped him. Or kicked him, rather, smart enough not to touch him with her hands before she knew how hot he was. Her foot landed in his gut, very close to—

“You little liar!” he shouted.
Nice move.

Her other foot sliced upwards, connecting with his groin before she spun and pushed herself off him, doing a cartwheel, flip-floppy thing as he gripped his knees, head down, eyes closed, pain shooting.

“Son of a bitch,” he groaned through his teeth. “Would you please stop hitting me in the balls? I need them.”

“Doubt it.” At least she was breathing heavily.

“You know I could kill you, right? That this is just for fun?”

She rocked her weight back and forth, ready for him. Not that she’d ever truly be ready for him.

“You kick me in the nuts one more time, and I won’t be interested in playing with you anymore. I’ll turn up my heat just enough to watch you burn. Got it?”

Her nod was curt, disrespectful but honest. She stayed back from him, not running away but keeping her distance, exactly what a smaller, faster fighter should do. The handle of the salt knife was thicker than she was used to. He could tell by how often she adjusted her grip. The only weapon she had against him, puny as it was, gave her a misplaced confidence. Therefore, it needed to be removed from her person.

Davyn might be big, but he wasn’t slow. He moved towards her, figuring she’d back up from the three hundred-pound demon coming directly at her. Nope. She dropped to her knees and spun out of his path, almost fast enough. He swung his arm down, hitting her shoulder. The knife popped out of her grip and shot across the alley, landing with a
plop
into a puddle.

“Aww, did I break your toy?” he asked.

They both glanced at it, then each other. Simultaneously they moved, except she didn’t go for the knife. She went for him.

What the fuck?
On his way to the ground, he had his very first bout with shock. The little woman had grabbed both of his legs and squeezed, using his momentum and bulk against him. He landed face-first on the cement, so unprepared for the fall that he hadn’t even put out his hands.

The knife laid three feet away. The hunter’s boot caught him under his chest and flipped him over. He grunted as she made a move, something more like what you’d see in a fake wrestling match than in an actual fight. She straddled him, her hands on his arms, her feet curled behind her holding his thighs to the ground.

He’d been more intimidated by kittens. Even using all her weight, she was never going to keep him down. But he gave her props because she shouldn’t have been able to get him on his back at all.

Millennia of torture, tests, ordeals—physical and mental—and he’s outwitted by a girl with a stellar body and a crusty knife. Not his proudest moment. Okay, fun was over. If she had a moment, it was because he gave it to her.

“You can’t win this, puppet.”

“I don’t have to win. All I have to do is not lose.”

He shrugged one shoulder, throwing her off balance enough to reach out and grab the knife. He hissed when his fingers met the blade, the salt burning like acid. She yelled and threw herself towards the weapon, but he wrapped his arm around her waist to keep her from reaching it. He flipped it around in his hand so he held the handle and brought the blade to her throat.

“In case you missed it, this is you losing.”

She jerked away and rolled. He grabbed her by the only piece of clothing he could—her bra. When it snapped off, she stopped, arms curled in to cover her chest and eyes opened wide in shock.

“Seriously?” He laughed. “We’re trying to kill each other. I could’ve grabbed you by the throat and snapped it just as easily, but
this
is what freaks you out? Me seeing your…?” Oh shit, yeah, those were nice.

Nope. First thing’s first. With her hands and mind occupied, she didn’t even try to stop him when he wrapped a leg around her and used it to flip both of them over. As soon as he was on top of her, the blade was at her throat again. Now, what was that second thing?

Right. When his eyes lowered from her eyes to her mouth, she inhaled sharply. Her shield slipped for just a second, long enough to let him know exactly what she wanted. Same thing he did.

“Oh, puppet, don’t tempt me.” He felt his cock harden, his temperature go up a few notches. Even though she must have felt both changes, she didn’t flinch, her self-destructive desire only increasing. His gaze roamed lazily from her eyes and lips to where the blade dented the skin of her neck, down…

Their bodies fit together in a very pleasant, very unhealthy way.

Fuck
. This was as stupid as it was dangerous. The harder his cock got, the hotter his entire body got. He geared himself up to get away from her. Her chest lifted with every shallow breath.

Hotter.

Just another second and he would get off her.

In a second.

She pressed her hips up against his.

Even hotter.

Thirty maybe.

“Another hot flash?” she asked.

He shot to his feet, tossing the knife at the wall, shattering it. “I could’ve fucking killed you.” Not with the knife or even on purpose. He’d lost control of his heat to a degree that should have made her boil.

“Thanks for the tip, Captain Obvious.” After she’d gotten to her feet, she touched the side of her neck where the blade had almost punctured her skin, her other arm across her breasts to hide them, instead just making it harder to look away.

“I wasn’t talking about the blade. Didn’t I—” He looked at the remnants of her pants, then at his. Holes melted into almost everywhere they’d been touching. “Didn’t I burn you?”

“Oh please, you’re not that hot.” She looked down at her arms and chest. They were red, but not as much as they should’ve been. If she’d been entirely human. “Mind giving me my jacket?”

He grabbed it off the ground and tossed it to her, his breath coming faster, his mind a blur. He’d been right about how dangerous she was, and it had nothing to do with how well she fought.

It was way more than that. She could take his heat. Sure, if he turned himself all the way up, she would burn just like everything else he touched, but if he held back, just a little…

He wiped his mouth to hide the beginnings of a smile. Fuck, what if he could use her body to dispel his heat, vent through her? Nothing would catch fire or melt, and no one would even notice. It’d be almost as if he was free from hell, not tied to that horrible heat.

He looked at her. Just looked.

Three tours above the crust, constantly having to go into people’s minds, picking through their stupid thoughts to find a temptation he could use to relieve his goddamn heat. But he didn’t need to do that with her. He could just…touch her, and she could take it. Take him. Her damage could be his freedom.

But nothing in their world came without danger, and he didn’t have to think too hard to figure out what it could be with her.

She shifted onto her other hip. “Are we going to fight, or are you going to stand there staring at me?”

“We’re done here,” he said shakily. “But if you try to use salt on me again, I won’t be as forgiving.”

“Got it—no balls, no salt. Congratulations on your big win.”

This fight, sure. But every other way? Fuck no. He hadn’t won—
she
had.

Keira was one of the oldest living members of the Rising—emphasis on ‘living,’ because not surprisingly, after the massacre not many seers volunteered to join up. Even before then it had been too dangerous for more than a couple of them to be in one place at the same time. Probably made things a lot harder on the folks trying to organize the rebellion, but it was much safer for each member to know as few others and as little as possible, just in case an enemy got through one of their shields.

Case in point, the look on the demon’s face when he’d been on top of her. She didn’t feel him go into her mind, but somehow he knew what she was thinking. Just like she knew what he was thinking. Mostly because men had appendages that made it pretty obvious, and from what she’d felt pressed between her thighs, he was
thinking
really…hard.

None of this was going the way it was supposed to. That demon was screwing everything up, including her job and her mind, and losing focus could easily get her killed. Plus, it was truly annoying to be called ‘puppet.’ She needed to come up with something even more derogatory than that to call him, especially because she still didn’t know his name.

So Keira went to the only person she’d ever seen get rid of a demon. The woman responsible for giving her info on whichever super she was supposed to kill after her recruiter died. Parker knew all kinds of obscure shit, having spent most of her life holding a book.

From the outside, the library looked like any other library. Hell, it did from the inside too, but it wasn’t. Humans came and left without ever noticing the enchantment. Keira didn’t know how Addison had pulled it off, because supers didn’t do favors for anyone, especially not the group that was trying to take them down.

The enchantment made it impossible for normal humans to see the metal door near the restrooms that led into the archives. But the true beauty of the magic was that supers were blind to the whole place—they couldn’t see the building, even if they knew exactly where it was. No non-human could step foot inside, making it a sanctuary. Fitting, seeing how Keira kind of considered Addison a saint. But Addison didn’t hang out here—only a few people knew where she lived, and Keira wasn’t one of those people.

A familiar-looking seer sat in an oversized chair near the archive door. His hair was just long enough to hide his eyes, make the way he checked her out a little less obvious. To those less distrustful and jaded than Keira, it looked like he was reading. She
sensed
the tension in his body more than saw it, felt an increased amount of energy or something. A lookout? Security? That was new.

He wouldn’t start anything unless completely necessary, not with so many humans around, but that was a fight she’d love to be in. Even though he was sitting, she could tell the guy was tall, at least 6’3”, with a lot of muscle beneath his jeans and button-down shirt. He must have been a toy—any seer that attractive and fit got put into a toy box the second they turned eighteen, becoming a plaything for any horny supernatural with enough cash.

He lifted his head but didn’t get up, even when she was close enough to have jumped him. She’d never understand people.

“Hey.”

The guy didn’t acknowledge she’d said anything.

“I’m going to…” Keira gestured to the door, unsure of how to deal with him.

Shaking his head slowly, he leaned forward and whispered, “Weapons stay out here.”

“No, they stay with me.” Always. She’d been here a few times and had never had to get past security. “What’s going on?”

“The world is a dangerous place. Behind that door isn’t…unless you make it so. Are you going to make it so?”

“I’m just here to talk to Parker.”

He grumbled something, taking his cellphone out and calling someone. “Seer. Early twenties.” Judgmental eyes slowly traveled the length of Keira’s body. “Why would I care about that?” He sighed at whatever the person said. “What’s your name?”

She gave it to him, knowing he’d be fine with keeping her ass waiting around all day. “What’s yours?”

He ignored her, grumbling something else into the phone before hanging up. “You can go in, but you don’t want to fuck with me, seer.”

“Yeah, I got that. Maybe we should work out a secret handshake or something. Make your job easier.”

“Leave me alone now,” he said. “I’m reading.”

“Wow, thanks, stranger,” she said as she opened the door.
Imagine how nice he’d be if we weren’t on the same side.
After making sure the door latch clicked back into place, she walked down the short hallway to the main archive room.

“Parker? You in here?” Keira trailed her finger uneasily along the line of books at shoulder height, glancing up about five more feet to the top of the shelf. Why the hell would anyone want this much paper? Huge fire hazard. Huge.

The Rising’s unofficial lead historian looked up from what had to be the world’s fattest book—probably the most boring, too. All Keira could see of the woman sitting next to Parker was long brown hair that fell onto the Encyclopedia Gigantica in front of them.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Parker asked. “And how’d you get in?”

“I told Graham to let her in,” the woman said, still looking down.

“That man is so overprotective of you, I’m shocked he listened.”

That was Graham?
He’d looked kind of familiar, but Keira’s time with Graham involved one of them being unconscious while the other fought the serial-killing demon. But if that guy was Graham, then…
Damn, no wonder he was so rude.
Guess which member of the Rising would come with her own security.

Oh, man.
Keira felt intimidation slam into every cell of her body. Never happened before, and would probably never happen again. But then, she’d never expected to be in the same room as the dat vitae. Right now, Addison was just a rumor in the Heights, a metaphorical ghost—someone to be whispered about, hated or admired. Not that any seer would admit to believing in her or any super admit they were afraid of her.

But everyone who believed she existed wanted a piece of her. The super who got hold of her would be rich beyond imagining, their name going down as the savior of all supernatural races in the North American zone, if not the world, in books like the one on the table. Because Addison was the one person who could end all of them. And all the wars. And all the abuse.