Beg Me to Slay (9 page)

She lay down without removing her robe, resting on her side. He stared at her back, willing her to roll over, but she never moved.

It was for the best, but that didn’t make it suck any less. Holding her naked body in his arms, feeling her give herself to him, trust him, he’d never felt so amazing.

Like a goddamn superhero.

But they barely knew each other, and she had enough trouble with demons without his attention making her a bigger target. Better that she hate him and live, than…

He couldn’t finish the thought.

Chapter Nine

Tegan woke in a haze, grimacing when she sat up. The tequila and champagne from the night before made her tongue feel coated in cotton. She hadn’t even been drunk—just a little buzzed. Hardly enough to earn this kind of morning-after breath. She yawned and rolled over to see her alarm clock: 6:30 a.m.

She glanced across the room. A half-naked man sprawled across in her easy chair. Hurt and a spark of regret crept into her consciousness as her mind replayed her fight with Gabe. A little bit of guilt mingled with the cocktail of
ugh
she had brewing.

She’d obviously offended Gabe when she’d thought he might sleep with all of his clients. But he hadn’t told her she was wrong.

Her hips were stiff and sore when she stood up. The image of Gabe’s naked, muscular body grinding into hers against the wall of her dojo filled her mind. Heat flushed through her until she nearly smiled. Adjusting her robe, she wandered toward the bathroom, pretending she wasn’t staring at Gabe’s bare chest.

One arm rested above his head, giving her a nice view of his biceps. His disheveled hair and peaceful expression warmed her heart. Too bad he wasn’t as sweet when he was awake. She stopped, tempted to run a finger down his cheek. Fine stubble shadowed his jaw, and she swallowed the desire that smoldered inside her belly.

Client.
That’s what he called her.
Only a client
.

But making love to her until her body was deliciously sore wasn’t the job she was paying him to perform. Stoking the embers of her anger, she turned and walked into the bathroom.

***

Gabe waited for the door to close before he opened his eyes. He’d been awake for a few hours. In fact, he hadn’t slept more than a couple hours at a time since he took this case. Nightmares weren’t unusual for him given his line of work, but something about this case kept him up.

He closed his eyes again the moment Tegan stirred in the bed. Since he still had no idea what to say to her, he figured pretending to be asleep was probably his best course of action.

He got up and pulled on a clean T-shirt. After running a comb through his hair, he went down to the dojo to retrieve his coat. Time to start thinking with another body part.

Downstairs, he carefully pulled the small leather-bound journal from the pocket of his jacket. Tegan had slipped it to him during her birthday party the night before, but shortly afterward she’d kissed him, so any hope of clear thinking was lost at that point.

The woman knew how to kiss.

A mental image of her above him, working her hips into him, a sensual smile on her face, threatened to derail his concentration. The flame of desire fizzled, though, when he remembered the look on her face when she’d admitted thinking he got that personal with
all
his female customers.

He cracked a window, hoping some fresh air might clear his head. Shifting himself inside his sweats, he sat in one of the chairs along the sidewall and opened the book.

It was all in Welsh Gaelic.
Shit
. He could make out a few words, but otherwise he was lost. He glanced up the stairs to the door to her loft. Tegan’s father spoke Gaelic. Had he taught his only child?

He flipped through the pages, recognizing some Welsh names. Her dad had instructed her to find a connection, a reason Tegan wasn’t the first of her ancestors to be attacked. He squinted, concentrating as if the words might suddenly mean something to him. Flipping to the back pages, he turned until he found the final page with writing on it.

Tegan Ashton.
She was the last entry.

If he had a clue what the book referenced about the attacks or who the people listed were, he might be on to something. A gust of ocean wind blew through the open window of the dojo along with a unique scent.

Demon.

His muscles contracted and he peered out the window, scanning the lot. Nothing.

Glass shattered upstairs, drawing his attention.

“No,” someone pleaded. Chairs crashed, maybe a table. “Wait. I seek Gabriel,” a voice squeaked.

Tegan answered, “He’s the one who told me demons lie, you winged bastard.”

Gabe ran for the stairs, taking them two at a time. He opened the door to find Tegan in a fighting stance, a butcher knife in one hand and the other ready to strike the bluish-colored demon who had his back up against the wall.

“Tegan, wait.”

She didn’t take her attention off the creature. “I’ve got it under control.”

“I can see that.” He took a step closer.

“No more kicks,” the demon squealed. “I have information.”

Gabe faced Tegan, but she remained ready to attack. “I know this one.” The knife didn’t lower. “He’s my snitch.”

Her gaze finally met his. “He flew in through the kitchen window. I thought he was…”

Gabe nodded and tried not to notice that she was still wet, wrapped in her robe and nothing else. “I know. Better safe than sorry.”

She lowered the knife, and the demon stepped away from the wall, rubbing at his middle. “You owe me extra, slayer. She attacked me.”

“Serves you right, Lago.” Gabe picked up the toppled chairs and her card table. “Where do you get off flying through a window?”

The stout demon narrowed his silver eyes. “Your scent led me.” He pointed a gnarled finger at Tegan. “She hit me before I could speak.”

“You could have come to the door in your human disguise.” Gabe rolled his eyes. “Enough sob story. What do you have for me?”

“Blood first, then information.”

“Blood?” Tegan frowned.

Gabe raised his hand slightly to silence her, his attention remaining on Lago. His informant usually showed up looking like a plumber complete with overalls and a stained baseball cap. Why would he risk flying and exposing his true form?

He pushed the questions aside. Negotiations with demons were precarious at best. One slipup and he’d be in deep shit.

“How much blood?”

Lago pressed his lips together, glancing at Tegan. “Send her away, then we deal.”

Gabe shook his head. “She stays or no deal.”

“At least a pint.” His black tongue swiped across his thin lips.

“A pint?” What kind of intel did Lago have?

The demon’s head bobbed, and Tegan stepped beside Gabe, lowering her voice. “Please tell me you’re not negotiating over
your
blood.”

He spared her a quick look. “You worried about me?”

She rolled her eyes and kept her butcher knife handy.

Lago snorted. “Deal or no deal, Slayer?”

“If the information is good, you get your payment. If not, I get three questions.” Counter offers were a requirement when bargaining with demons. Without them, they lost all respect for you.

“Blood first and two questions,” Lago shot back.

“Information first and half a pint.” Gabe narrowed his gaze.

The demon closed his bulgy eyes for a moment, and when he focused on Gabe again, he stretched up to his full height of about four feet nine inches. He clenched his bony fists, his small blue wings flapping three times in annoyance. “One pint or no deal.”

Gabe’s gut twisted. The information had to be good or Lago would have caved to three questions. The little bastard always negotiated. “One pint
after
the information.”

Lago nodded. “Deal has been made.” His sliver eyes shifted around the room. “A demon builds his army.”

Gabe crossed his arms over his chest. “Happens every day. You call that information?”

The demon picked at one earlobe. “There’s more.”

Tegan moved closer to Gabe. Her robe brushed against his hip, and his arm ached to slide around her waist. He kept them crossed in front of him. Tight. “Spill it, Lago.”

The demon glanced at the windows and the door, then lowered his voice to a haggard whisper. “He seeks the notice of the president.”

“The president knows about demons?” Tegan whispered.

Gabe shook his head. “There are levels of leadership in hell, too. It’s a parallel dimension to our world. They’ve got a few presidents of their own.”

Gabe uncrossed his arms and leaned down, closer to Lago. Staring into his liquid silver eyes, Gabe asked, “Which president, Lago?”

“No idea.” Breaking eye contact, the demon shrugged his shoulders, and his wings fluttered. His tell. Gabe snatched the tip of Lago’s right wing and jerked the demon off his feet. Lago screeched loud enough to peel paint. Tegan covered her ears.

Gabe would take Advil later.

“Don’t lie to me, demon.” He dropped Lago onto the floor in a heap. “One more time, which president?”

Lago yanked his bruised wing down, licking at the wound with his black tongue before glaring up at Gabe. “
Haagenti.”

“You can’t be serious.” Gabe frowned. “Why would a demon want his attention?”

Lago narrowed his eyes. “One pint.”

If what the demon shared was true, it was invaluable information. Gabe grudgingly nodded. “One pint.”

Lago’s thin lips twisted into an evil smile. “This demon is trapped in the human world, and he wants to go home. If he can open the portal between this world and hell for Haagenti to cross over, the president will grant him passage home. His imprisonment in the human world will be over.”

“What demon is it?” As if finding Tegan’s demon and keeping her safe wasn’t enough to keep him busy, if a president of hell crossed over into this world… Shit. He didn’t even want to think about it.

“No one knows.” Lago spread his claw-tipped fingers. “Time for you to pay.”

Gabe glanced at Tegan. “You might want to wait downstairs.”

She shook her head. “No way am I leaving you alone with a demon.” Her knuckles tightened on the butcher knife.

“I can handle it.”

“Good.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “Then I won’t have to take another shower to wash off demon blood.”

…

Lago shuffled forward and grabbed Gabe’s right arm, turning his palm up to expose the veins on his wrist. Tegan held her breath, wondering how the blood exchange would take place. Did Gabe bleed into a glass? Maybe a measuring cup?

The demon’s eyes glowed as he opened his mouth, exposing serrated teeth. Tegan’s stomach lurched when the creature bit into Gabe’s wrist. His demonic growls and sucking noises didn’t help. She forced her gaze from the disgusting demon and looked up at Gabe.

“Has he taken a pint yet?” She held the knife so tight her fingers were cramping.

Through gritted teeth, he muttered, “Deals with demons are magically bound. He and I will both know when the debt has been paid.”

“Does it hurt?” The second the words left her lips she wished she could reel them back in. “Sorry. Stupid question.”

“This isn’t the first time. I’ll be fine.”

More slurping noises filled the silence. She cringed. “I thought vampires were the bloodsuckers.”

Gabe almost smiled, but it could have been a wince. It was tough to tell while a demon chewed through his skin. “Slayer blood is a delicacy for a demon. Like honey in a world without sugar. It’s worth much more to them than any amount of money. The good news is that being a slayer will make my body recover more quickly. I can lose a pint a few times a week and still be all right.”

Suddenly the demon stepped back, almost stumbling. “The debt is claimed.” His black tongue swept the last traces of Gabe’s crimson blood from his lips.

Gabe covered the wound with his other hand. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Find out which demon is attempting to bring the president through.”

Lago grinned, exposing his bloodstained teeth. “If the portal opens and the president crosses over, the demon’s identity will make no difference.”

“Then you better get me the information fast.”

The demon rolled his eyes. “Not so easy, but I listen.” He hopped up to the windowsill over her sink, spry for a creature who was probably as wide as he was tall. Hunching his back, he squeezed through the opening, his wings fluttering until he caught a breeze and glided away.

Gabe groaned. “I gotta sit.”

Tegan dropped the knife on the floor, her arm wrapping around his waist. Once she had him settled in a chair, she went to the fridge. Her heart sank.

“Want a glass of water?”

He nodded. “Water’s fine.”

Placing a glass of ice water in front of him, she sat across the table. “You’re really pale.”

He glanced her way, the corner of his mouth curving into a lopsided smile that made her heart stutter. “Red meat would probably help.”

“We better get you cleaned up before we go in search of meat.” She got up and pulled her first aid kit down from the cabinet beside the sink. “Let me dress the wound. I don’t want to think about the kind of sick bacteria that thing probably carried.”

He moved his hand, and only dried blood remained. The bite had already closed. All that was left was a semicircle of tiny scabs.

“Wow.” She glanced up at his face.

“Still hurts like a son of a bitch.” He tipped his head toward her easy chair. “The book your dad gave you is over there with my coat. Can you read Welsh Gaelic? He told me it’s a record of demon…” He paused for a second. “Or dragon attacks on your family. If we find a pattern it could help me see how you’re connected. Maybe we can make some sense of it over lunch?”

Tegan nodded and stood up, heading for the bathroom. “Rest up for a minute, and I’ll get ready.”

Safe in the bathroom, she took a few long, slow, deep breaths. Her fingertips tingled, and her heart still raced like a freight train. She did her best to ease her anxiety, but a freaking demon had flown through her kitchen window and feasted on Gabe. It was tough to convince her anxiety that all’s well.

What had happened to her normal life? Her world?

Presidents of hell?

Breathe.

Another deep breath and she opened her eyes staring in the mirror.
Get a grip.

Would she ever have a grip again?