I pulled away.
If you feed your hunger instead of fighting it, you will be able to control it better. It does not take much blood.
Halcyon’s words haunted me now as my eyes fixed upon the red blood trickling down the attendant’s neck. He seemed completely unaware of the fact that he was bleeding, or perhaps uncaring of it as he reached out to me. I let his beefy arms wrap around me, draw me to him, and bent my head back to the man. Not to drink, but to lick the puncture wounds closed.
Stop bleeding, I thought, picturing it in my mind, and felt the blood grow sluggish, clotting beneath my tongue.
Something in me—something still so terribly hungry that had barely begun to have its need met—some demon part of me wept at the sight of that closing wound.
No! it cried. More!
But I denied it.
“Look at me,” I said, my voice trembling, not with horror, but with the effort of restraint. When the man turned to me, I captured him with my eyes. “You cut your neck against the edge of a shelf. You will have no memory of anything that occurred out here. Nor will any further disturbance outside draw your attention for the next hour. Go back inside and cover your neck with some Band-Aids.”
His arms dropped away, and he walked obediently back inside the store. My control stretched only so far. Only when he was completely gone from my sight—like a box of chocolates covered up once more, hidden from view—was I able to turn my attention away from him and toward the woods.
Halcyon. That one thought of him and a vision of those demon nails ripping open Dante’s arm flashed to me like a waking dream. In it I saw Halcyon turn and look at me. In that brief moment of distraction, Dante struck him with his dagger, burying it to the hilt in Halcyon’s side.
I saw, felt the pain of it. And felt the anger, the rage over the spilling of his demon blood. It spewed up like bubbling lava from within Halcyon, making his eyes glow red.
Leave us, he commanded, and cut the mental bond between us.
I staggered at the sudden severing.
“No,” I whispered. Casting my senses wide, I let them guide me, following the pull of the Monère warrior and my demon sire. It guided me to where they fought, and as I came upon them, I saw with my eyes what I had seen in that vision: demon blood dripping sluggishly from Halcyon’s side, his eyes red and enraged, the very air trembling with his fury.
His skin rippled as if a pebble had been skipped across its surface, breaking the calm, stirring the demon beast that lurked beneath. Dante circled him, knife in hand, his lower abdomen torn into ribbons of flesh where Halcyon had sliced him with his nails. His eyes glowed silver with his own power and an aura of danger clung to him like a second skin. But Halcyon, it seemed, was immune to this mesmerizing power.
“No!” I said louder, drawing their attention.
Their forces hit me separately. Dante’s luminescent silver eyes pinned me in place as he whispered, “Stop.” And the silent mental command Halcyon flung at me. Stay.
I froze in place, unable to move, mentally cursing them both as they rushed each other, coming together in a flash of tanned skin—one lighter brown, the other darker gold. Both of them armed. But it was ten demon nails against one silver blade.
Foolish Dante was the aggressor, with Halcyon welcoming his attack with a cruel, taunting smile. They struck at each other savagely, moving with lethal beauty, a dance of fast movement, strikes and countering blows that was almost beautiful to watch were it not so frighteningly deadly.
Dante rushed Halcyon again and again with almost reckless daring, the silver blade flashing in his hand, his metal bracelets glinting darkly at his wrists. Were it not for the wrist guards, he would have been completely torn apart by Halcyon’s nails, which were not even claws yet, just his normal inch-long nails as the Demon Prince wrestled back his beast’s change, retaining his man form.
They came together again in a stunning flurry of strikes and blurring movement, and broke apart with new injuries scored along Dante’s thighs, his arms. Halcyon had only the one knife wound, terrible enough—it had almost caused Halcyon’s demon beast to emerge.
All I could do was watch, frozen by both their wills. And inwardly scream. I found I didn’t have to wait for Hell. It had found and captured me, here and now.
“Do you know who I am?” Halcyon asked, his voice crooning, silky menace. Even in his human form he was a fearsome sight, his red eyes burning with Hell’s fury, his long nails coated with blood, a cold smile twisting his lips.
“You are the Prince of Hell,” Dante said, and lunged at him with the knife. Halcyon danced gracefully away, swiping downward as he did. His razor-sharp nails came up against Dante’s blocking metal bracelet, scraped over it with a discordant screech.
“You know who I am,” Halcyon said, “yet you do not fear me.”
“Why should I fear someone who will never have any dominion over me?” Dante growled, his silver eyes glowing brightly. He attacked again, pressing forward, uncaring of the new wounds he incurred, focused only on driving that knife again into the Demon Prince.
They sprang apart.
“How did you find us?” Dante demanded.
A fast, almost careless swipe of those nails, and the top of Dante’s shirt was sliced open, spilling his amulet into view.
“Did you think your stone’s small magic could keep me from finding my mate? My own blood?” Halcyon’s smile turned mockingly cruel. I’d never seen him like this before.
As if he knew my thoughts, those burning eyes turned to me for a second. “I am not always nice, Mona Lisa.”
Dante chose that moment to strike again. But this time it seemed Halcyon’s inattention had been deliberate. The Demon Prince moved again, so fast I didn’t see him stir, and Dante was suddenly pinned on the ground, the silver dagger now in Halcyon’s hand.
“What’s to stop me from killing you now?” Halcyon taunted as his fangs lengthened to sharp, cutting points.
“Nothing,” Dante answered, his face impassive.
“You still have no fear.”
“I do not fear death,” Dante said. “It’s not staying dead that torments me.”
“I shall do my best to see that you stay dead.” With that silky promise, Halcyon raised the dagger he had seized.
Dante’s smile was brief, bitter. “Not even you can grant me that ease, Demon Prince.”
Power surged, thrummed the air as the demon part of me came to the fore, shattering the separate spells that had been placed on me.
“No, Halcyon!” I screamed. “Don’t. I carry his child.”
I swayed, freed of the mental bonds, but had no power to move. All my energy had been used up.
“Don’t,” I whispered as I sank to the ground. Into dark swirling oblivion.
I WOKE UP to find two concerned faces peering down at me. To see pale blue eyes no longer glowing, and dark chocolate ones no longer demon red. Nothing like announcing you’re pregnant and then fainting to get some attention.
I started to sit up, but was pressed back down by two pairs of hands. My handcuffs, I noticed, had been removed.
“Easy, ena,” Halcyon murmured.
“Lie back down, dulcaeta.”
Tender words—wife, beloved. Old words spoken in a tongue that I remembered from another lifetime. Tears sprang to my eyes. Those blasted, stupid tears. But fury was the cause of them this time.