But in the end, nothing took the place of time...and he still needed it.
His new employer—thinking he’d been in a car accident during that mysterious rash of trouble in the city—had regretfully replaced him; Devin had already hired him on and then immediately put him on sick leave.
When he was on his feet, he’d start by protecting the city alongside Devin. But as they peeled back the layers of Demardel, he and Gwen would also have a new mission—using Keska and Demardel. Find the others. Those unknown blade wielders out there, lost and alone and still trying to make it on their own.
Before they turned into Rafe. Or Sawyer Compton. Or the thing Mac had almost become.
Because Natalie was right—she and Devin had the unique resources to help them all. They had a powerful primary blade; they had Compton’s library.
And now they had Demardel.
They’d already started teaching Mac the exercises that would give him more control over the blade than he’d ever dreamed possible.
Gwen’s eyes had narrowed; her legs locked tightly around his hips, jerking him close and to attention. “You can’t fool me,” she said. “And no, I am not cheating.” Not peeking through the connection they’d forged. “This,” she told him, sending him a rush of sensation, “would be cheating.”
He jerked again. And swore.
She laughed. “I practiced that.”
“Prove it,” he suggested, though it didn’t come out with the confident demand he’d planned. Too breathless for that. And his eyes were too close to rolling back in his head.
“Mmm. I don’t know if I should.” Her hands rested at his jeans snap, fiddling slightly.
He narrowed his eyes at her flowery skort and decided they’d be no impediment at all. And then, when his cell phone rang, he said fiercely, “Ignore it.”
“Men,” she told him. “Can’t you multitask? Besides, I emailed this number to Sandy this morning. You know, my friend? Who went to Vegas? When I didn’t? And who probably just found out I’m not coming back to work?” She fished the phone from his pocket, flipped it open...and slipped a smooth, wicked hand down the front of his jeans. “I’ll keep it short.”
Not that he could answer. Not that he could do anything other than clutch the counter. He barely heard her say, “Hey, Sandy. How was—yeah, yeah, okay. What happens in Vegas...” Jeans unsnapped, hand stroking around his clenched butt cheek and back again. Mac made a noise. Couldn’t help but make a noise. “What? I didn’t hear anything...and no, I’m really not coming back. I got a better offer on my walkabout.” There, her hand—just right. And he’d found the buttons on her shirt, and she laughed again, more breathlessly this time, and at the feel of her in his hands he made a rough, low noise and Gwen said, “Hey—yeah—I really gotta go. I’ll email, okay? I’ll be back to pack up my stuff, so...yeah...what?”
And then she laughed outright. “Hey,” she said. “What happens on walkabout, stays on walkabout.”
She flipped the phone closed and put it aside. Mac put his hand over hers and interlaced their fingers. “Permanent,” he said. “That walkabout. You and me.”
Gwen stilled herself to hold him tight—to let what they had swell between them and only them. Not through the blade, not through the pendant. Just man and woman, controlling who they were and what they were—if each for the first time in a long time. “What happens on walkabout...”
“Stays,” he told her—and held her gaze, grey-blue eyes gone dark and deep, that wry set of his mouth gone completely and utterly kissable.
So she did, and it was answer enough.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from CLAIMED BY THE DEMON by Doranna Durgin.
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Chapter 1
Olivia DaCosta banged on yet another door as the shadows lengthened ominously over Lower Manhattan. Her knuckles throbbed and were already bruising from countless other such attempts to get a response. Each time her pleas for entry went unanswered, she grew more desperate and her pulse ratcheted up another notch, just the response she didn’t need.
Despite the soreness in her hand, she banged again, louder this time. “Come on, come on!” She prayed someone would be brave enough to open this door and let her in before the last faint light of day disappeared. Already the shadows seemed to move and reek with dread. If she didn’t find shelter before they totally consumed the final hints of daylight, she’d be dead before the night was through.
Movement beyond the curtain caught her attention and she hammered on the door with even more force, sending sharp pains up through her hand into her lower arm. “Please, let me in!” she called out, wondering if she could claw her way through the door. But when the banging and pleas didn’t bring anyone to the door, she had no choice but to choke down a sob and move on.
She checked her cell phone yet again, hoping for a miraculous resurrection. But the battery was still dead. If she made it through the night, she would never forget to charge her phone battery again.
She walked at the edge of the sidewalk closest to the street, as far as she could get from steps that led downward into the lower levels of the dwellings. The shadows gathered in those stairwells made her heart beat too fast, turning her into a shining beacon for the city’s vampires.
God, every time she even thought about them, part of her still couldn’t believe they were real, that they had roamed the earth for centuries. She wanted to reject the very idea of them as something horrible created by her brain. Not so many years ago, they had been the stuff of fiction. At least all sane people had believed so. Now their emergence in the wake of the massive die-off caused by the Bokor virus made going out for a night on the town, taking a romantic moonlit walk and even stargazing things of the past for humans. Those once-enjoyable activities were as much a part of humanity’s collective history as the Roman Empire or the belief that the world was flat.
As soon as the sun hit the horizon, everyone without a death wish retreated indoors and didn’t step foot outside for any reason. If someone had a heart attack or any medical emergency in the middle of the night, they faced an impossible choice—risk a mad dash to the hospital or hope they’d last until daylight. Either came with the very real possibility of death. But there were no ambulances running between sundown and sunrise. What was left of humanity couldn’t risk losing its remaining health-care professionals with suicide runs.
Olivia tried not to dwell on the realities of the cruel new world. Nothing mattered beyond finding shelter right now. She passed the next doorway because it was padlocked from the outside with a rusty lock and chain. She fought panic and dwindling hope as she tried to rouse someone at the next three residences. When she noticed a thin line of blood on her middle knuckle, she picked up her pace even more. The only thing worse than being caught out after dark was adding fresh blood to the mix. Forget about being dead before morning. She’d be lucky to last five minutes.