“No,” he growled, tightening his grip. “You’re not.” His fingers twitched, and he inhaled deeply, eyes growing wide.
I was about to suggest he shove the bossy crap up his ass sideways, but splinters of wood exploded inward, showering the entire room in debris. Jax yelled—I couldn’t quite make it out—right as a dark blur of a thing knocked me sideways. The entire world spun, and I landed hard on the floor in front of the couch. I scrambled to my feet a second before Jax launched himself at the intruder.
The man, completely bald with an athletic build and dark sunglasses, laughed as Jax’s fist connected with the side of his head. They tumbled to the floor, trading blows in a flurry of grunts and snarls. In the mayhem of it all, the man’s glasses were knocked from his face and I found myself rooted in place. Black. His eyes were black. The room began to spin.
“Get—out, Sammy,” Jax growled, pulling me from the haze and gaining the upper hand against the intruder. He rolled his weight on top of the other man, fingers wrapping tight around his throat. It looked like he had it under control—until Black Eyes bucked once and threw Jax off balance. He teetered, but recovered quickly and jumped with stunning grace to his feet.
It was like watching a perfectly choreographed scene. Deadly, but beautiful. They traded blows, each ducking and twisting with the elegance of an experienced dancer. I wanted to run, but found it hard to tear my eyes away from it all.
The man with the black eyes threw a powerful right hook. Jax dodged it with time to spare, but in the process, backed up too far. His heel caught on her laundry basket, and gravity sent him to the ground.
He tried to jump to his feet, but Black Eyes was too fast, shoe coming down hard in the center of Jax’s chest. The crunch the impact made chilled me to the core.
Laughing, the man kicked out again, this time at Jax’s head. I flinched as his head rocked to the right, eyes rolling back, and then fluttering closed. “Pathetic. The Son of Cain falls so easily.” The man bent closer, hand poised to deliver what I feared was the final blow.
“No!” I screamed.
A second later, those freaky black-as-night peepers were glaring at me.
“Shit!”
Jax was conscious and trying to move, but he didn’t get more than a few feet before falling back to the floor again, sputtering to catch his breath.
“Pretty little thing,” the man drawled as he cornered me. His voice rasped like a lifetime smoker with an odd gravelly twang. There was something so familiar about him. Not the man specifically, but his voice. The eyes… I’d seen them before—and not at the bottom of the cliff when I thought Jax’s eyes looked strange. Another time. Something else… “I can’t kill him, but I’ll enjoy feasting on your bones.”
“I have some ribs in the freezer. I bet you’d like munching those bones a hell of a lot more than mine.” I babbled, inching away as panic threatened to overtake me. The blood rushed in my ears as my heart drummed in my chest. Heart attack. I was going to have a heart attack.
Unwanted memories of the night my parents were murdered pushed their way to the surface despite my most valiant efforts to tamp them down. An almost inhuman voice. Strange inky eyes. Everything was jumbled, pictures popping in and out of my mind in random order.
I’d seen the whole thing. Watched from a louvered closet door. The man who broke into their home murdered my father first, then tortured and killed my mother. I was too small at the time—too young—to do anything.
The man snarled, drops of foamy white spittle flying from his lips as he crouched down, readying to attack.
I dropped to my knees as he charged, ducking behind the small DVD case I’d found at a garage sale a few weeks ago. He crashed into the case, scattering the discs in every direction. I stumbled to my feet, grabbed a handful, and started chucking them at his head. Not the most badass weapon in an arsenal, but improvising was a way of life.
The man batted them away, cackling. “Your fear is delectable. I wonder,” he whispered, pushing forward as he diverted the last DVD-turned-missile. Hot, fetid air puffed across my face and I did my best not to gag. “What can I do to turn your fear into terror?”
I gasped and tried to pull away, but he was too strong. Screwing up the last reserves of courage, I asked, “What the hell are you?”
He leaned closer and with a grin I’d never, ever forget, said, “I’m a thing of nightmares.”
Not happening. This was not happening. Another nightmare.
That was the answer. I was trapped in a nightmare. How else could I explain the fact that history was about to repeat itself? I’d escaped my parents’ fatal home invasion only to go down in one of my own. That was cruel, even by fate’s standards.
The man chuckled, obviously thrilled by my response, and leaned in for what I assumed would be the kill, but something stopped him.
“Back away.”
His eyes widened and he turned slowly toward the sound of a new voice. Behind us, Jax had climbed to his feet.
He didn’t appear to be in distress over his injuries any longer. Standing tall, he approached slowly, stiff and angry. His eyes now matched the man’s—the color of night—and his voice was much deeper than it should have been. More like how it had sounded at the bottom of the cliff. His lips peeled into a smile fit for a madman. Dangerous and unhinged. “Now.”
The intruder backed away. “Son of Cain—”
“My name is Azirak.” A low, primal growl followed, and I backed away as well. He turned, and to me said, “Samantha Merrick.” And that was it. Nothing less. Nothing more.
Jax—or Azirak—refocused on the enemy, and took a step closer. The bald guy, who a minute ago was ready to kill me, was now on the verge of pissing himself. He backed away, then snapped his teeth twice in Jax’s—Azirak’s—direction. A strange language spilled from his lips. When he finished, he turned to me with a wicked grin and said, “I’ll see you again, pretty thing.”
The window behind us exploded as he crashed through.
Chapter Thirteen
Jax
Until I knew exactly why these demons wanted Sam dead, and how much they knew about her, staying at her apartment wasn’t an option. I’d brought us to the hourly motel by the highway on the outer edge of town.
I shifted, twisting my body toward the door. I hated being here with her right now. So soon after reclaiming control from the demon. From Azirak… The thing inside had a name. Funny, how all this time I’d never given it any thought.
After I fell, it had forced its way into the driver’s seat to deal with the other demon. When the bastard fled, to my surprise, the demon—Azirak—willingly relinquished its hold, but it still squirmed, hungry and desperate for violence.
Too bad. Feeding wasn’t an option just yet. I needed to help Sam. My priority was keeping her safe and getting to the bottom of this mess. Demons. For some reason, demons were hunting her. Demons that knew what I was. More specifically, who I was.
We’d been in the motel room almost an hour and she still hadn’t said a word. She sat in the chair by the door, tense and watching me as though any moment I’d sprout a tail and horns. Thick gray tendrils rising to mingle with black—confusion—was the only evidence I needed. She was in shock.
The silence tore at me. If she was going to scream or cry, or cast me off as the disgusting thing that I was, it needed to be now. “Say something, Sammy. Please.”