There weren’t many times she’d encountered this kind of energy, but she knew well enough what was responsible for it. Trying not to draw attention to her actions, she carefully scooted closer to the edge of the bench seat and peered at the patrons congregated around the bar.
Where are you…?
An enormous guy wearing a navy-blue tracksuit shuffled out of Marabella’s vision, and her attention fell on the tall, sexy and decidedly dangerous individual striding toward the bank of stools adjacent to her. A harsh breath lodged in her esophagus. With his carelessly tousled midnight-black hair and strong, beard-stubbled jaw, the stranger was the living definition of bad boy. The fact he was a demon only made his off-the-charts sex appeal that much more alluring to any unsuspecting female.
Fortunately, she was more than aware of what he was, which made her reaction to him incredibly disturbing. Jerking her focus from his sinfully gorgeous features, she squeezed her thighs together, desperately willing away the hot, decadent arousal beating deep in her core. She sucked in a shaky inhalation. What the hell is wrong with me?
She’d been attracted to her fair share of men before, but none of them came close to inspiring the same breathless excitement as the too-scrumptious-for-words demon standing across from her. If she pressed a hand between her legs, she was half terrified she’d find out just how dripping wet she truly was. For him.
Lusting after a demon—it was the pinnacle of wrongness. The cardinal sin topping all others.
She struggled against the overwhelming urge to peek at the demon before finally giving up the battle. Mr. Tall, Dark and Deadly stopped beside a scruffy-looking dude wearing denim coveralls and a battered baseball cap. The man took one look at the demon and quickly vacated his spot. Apparently used to strangers giving up seats to him, the demon straddled the stool and snapped his fingers at the stressed-out bartender.
Marabella tried not to notice the intriguing flex of muscles beneath the demon’s snug black T-shirt as he leaned toward the bar, but failed miserably. When she imagined sliding her hands beneath the cotton to feel the sinuous ripple of those muscles for herself, she grasped the delicate stem of her martini glass and slammed two large gulps of her Cosmo. The fruity alcohol provoked an unladylike sputter from her, but at least she had something else to concentrate on other than her traitorous attraction to the demon.
I should absolutely get out of here before I do something stupid. Her mind was on the right track. Too bad her body refused to obey. She plunked her glass down with trembling fingers and fumbled for her purse. As she lifted it toward her lap, her attention locked on the two men farther down the bar who were staring at the demon with bloodlust glinting in their narrowed eyes.
Oh. Shit.
Ian and Jasper Quint. Although she wasn’t personally acquainted with the infamous hunters, she knew of their reputation. She shifted her scrutiny to the demon. He didn’t seem to be aware of the menacing interest he’d garnered from the Quint brothers. Sick dread pooled in the pit of her stomach. It made no sense why she should be fearful for the demon’s life. For all intents and purposes, they were on opposing teams. While she didn’t exactly condone Jasper’s and Ian’s methods, she should still applaud their quest to rid the world of dark, evil forces.
Only right now, the idea of them doing harm to Mr. Buff and Brooding didn’t sit well on her.
Her escalating anxiety continuing to fester, she watched the demon slug down a huge mug of beer before ordering another. Within the space of five minutes the demon chugged through four more rounds. If he was on a mission to tie one on, he was well underway. She’d long since abandoned her own drink. Her gut had enough to deal with, thanks to the uneasy queasiness sloshing around in there.
Didn’t the demon realize the prime target he was making of himself?
A perky young waitress bounced up to Marabella’s booth, momentarily blocking the view of the bar. “Would you like another drink?”
Smothering a frustrated groan, Marabella lifted her gaze to the girl’s cajoling expression. “No, thank you.”
“Are you sure? Our margaritas are on special tonight.”
“I’m positive.”
The waitress’s cheeriness intensified several notches. “How about dessert then?”
“No, really. I don’t need anything.”
The girl’s smile turned wheedling. “You look like you’re a fan of cheesecake, and ours can’t be beat.”
“I’m lactose intolerant,” Marabella lied. “But thank you.”
Looking disappointed at the prospect of getting a smaller tip than she’d hoped for, the girl uttered a grumpy “Fine” and moved to the neighboring table. Marabella returned her focus to the bar, her heart plummeting when she noticed the demon was gone. Her response to his departure churned her gloomy dread. Instead of moping, she should be rejoicing that he’d left. Not only could she stop worrying about her strange draw to the mysterious demon, she didn’t need to panic at the prospect of the Quints jumping him.
Reminded of the hunters’ presence, she glanced toward the end of the bar. Her gaze collided with the empty stools where the brothers were supposed to be sitting, and the ball of dread in her stomach quadrupled in size. The timing of their departure couldn’t be coincidental.
Blindly, she snatched her purse and stumbled from the booth. A sea of bodies pushed against her, combating her efforts to reach the exit. Her pulse a deafening roar in her head, she broke through the crowd and raced outside. Other than a few people milling around on the sidewalk, there weren’t many loiterers. She didn’t spot the Quint brothers or the demon anywhere.
How could they have vanished so fast?
In the middle of processing that thought, she spied Ian and Jasper hoofing it into the park square down the street. The brothers hurried past a hotdog cart blocked on either side by two large inflatable waving balloons before they disappeared from sight. Not waiting around to rethink her actions, she darted across the road.
Other than the noise coming from the generators powering the balloons, an eerie quiet shrouded the park. Even the breeze rustling through the oaks seemed hushed, as if waiting for something sinister to happen. Praying that wasn’t a premonition, she hurried in the direction she’d last glimpsed the Quints. Pavement gave way to brick pavers as she ventured deeper into the woods. The shadows grew denser, threatening to swallow her whole, and her senses shifted to high alert.
Wary of walking into a perilous situation, she inched forward—and winced when her heels made a soft scuff on the cobbled path. Although the sound was barely discernible, she was paranoid enough to believe the quarry she tailed would be able to hear it. She hesitated, debating the wisdom in taking off her shoes to mask further sound. Before she settled on a decision, a nearby voice broke the still night.
“This is your unlucky day, Gorasola.”
Heart thudding, Marabella scooted toward the forked section of the path. Just past the bend on the right, the Quint brothers stood facing the demon. She quickly ducked behind a hedge of yews to avoid detection.
A slurred grunt fell from the demon. “Shit. You don’t know the half of it.”
“You made a huge mistake showing up on our turf.” This time Ian issued the thinly veiled threat.
“Your turf? For fuck’s sake, what is this, West Side Story? Who the hell talks like that anymore?”
“You’ve got a big mouth, Gorasola,” Ian growled. “It’s gonna be my pleasure to permanently shut it.”