Savage bite den of shado.., p.22
Savage Bite (Den of Shadows Book 1), page 22
My eyelids popped open, and I scrambled into a sitting position against the cushioned headboard as my ragged breaths filled the bedroom. I dragged my hand through my snarled locks, clearing them from my sweaty face. Beige walls with clean, white crown molding surrounded me, and sheer curtains outlined the windows on the left with views of the neighboring building.
Waking up in unfamiliar places was becoming the norm.
I kicked the cream and burgundy covers off and let the air from the ceiling fan sweep over my body. The nightmare that slithered into my dreams tonight made my flesh swelter and burn as if I was back in that bathwater at eleven years old.
The Millers, one of my foster families, were obsessively religious. Those zealots believed in all types of extreme bullshit. If I’d remained there, they probably would have married me off to some sweaty old man by the time I was thirteen—maybe even sooner, considering what happened that night.
I shuddered as the memories flooded back like a monsoon determined to drown me. In the middle of the night, I’d started my period for the first time. Thankfully, I already knew what was happening, or those idiots would have tried to fill my head with all sorts of horrible things. Instead of telling anyone, I’d planned on stealing some feminine products from a store or school, but Mrs. Miller found me and saw the stains on the stupid white dress she made us sleep in.
She’d filled the bath with scalding hot water and scrubbed the shit out of me until my skin was red and raw, some spots even bleeding. Mrs. Miller claimed she had to wash away my sins because now that I was of age, I was no longer innocent.
My fingers ran over the rough patches and tiny scars on my knees. After the bath, she’d dragged me into the kitchen, poured uncooked rice on the ground, and made me kneel on the hard grains until the sun rose.
What a fucking psycho. That wasn’t the worst place, but it was certainly no picnic.
I studied the scars on my wrists as a chill slinked down my spine. No. Definitely not the worst foster home I was sent to. The burn of ropes against my wrists and the terror of being locked in that dark, cramped closet had cold sweat beading along my nape.
With some effort, I shut those memories off and jumped from the bed. The glowing red lights of the digital clock on the nightstand read two in the morning, so hopefully no one was awake. I’d much rather run into Logan, though. He was a high demon, but he didn’t want to destroy me any way he could.
He also didn’t make me crave his touch.
I tiptoed down the hall, toying with the hem of the t-shirt Logan loaned me since my bag was still at the Anders’ home in Mohan Wilds. When I made it into the living room, I avoided the chair at all costs. The single light above the stove led me into the unoccupied kitchen with maple shaker cabinets that contrasted with the charcoal-gray granite counters. Logan had given me one of the two guest rooms to sleep in, and I’d remained inside without eating. I couldn’t stand to be in the same room as that prick demon shifter.
My stomach howled as hunger pangs set in. I opened one of the cabinets stocked with cups. The next one had plates and bowls, and the next had a variety of wine glasses.
Did the demon throw dinner parties every weekend? Who lived alone and needed that many dishes?
Finally, I found two cupboards stuffed with snacks. My finger ran over the items until I came upon a box of spicy trail mix. I poured a mixture of pretzels, rye chips, and Chex into my hand and tossed them into my mouth.
Spicy, my ass. Even Hawk could tolerate this stuff.
The thought of my best friend turned the trail mix to sand. I reached into the stainless steel fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, chugging some to wash down the food.
Did Coltrane tell Hawk I’d gone on a mission and lost contact? Would he care?
Of course he’d care. We were partners. But a small, insecure part of me wondered if he even noticed. Maybe he thought I’d been sent on a long-term mission and was glad to have space from me after our fight.
I shook the dark thoughts off and hopped up on the counter, grabbing another handful of trail mix. The tattoo on my neck tingled moments before a shirtless Fane shuffled into the living room.
My teeth clenched at his appearance even though my body heated and longed to have him touch me again.
Betraying slut.
His black hair was in mussed waves around his face, and the gray sweatpants hung low on his hips, revealing the defined V-line that trailed beneath the hem. I already knew what else dangled within those pants. The thick, hot feel of it in my hand was burned into my mind.
I tore my attention away from those jagged tattoos slashing over his scarred torso. Tension thickened the air as Fane stepped into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and grabbed a drink. His gaze remained heavy on me, and plastic crinkled and popped as he opened the bottle.
“How’s the leg?” His rough voice, thick with sleep, poured out even sexier than usual. “Does it hurt?”
I couldn’t feel much at the moment except for his stare. “It’s fine.”
Fane’s wild, intoxicating scent washed over me as he drew closer. His hand moved toward the bandage on my thigh.
I snatched his wrist before he made contact with my leg. “Don’t touch me.” The words came out as a low, lethal warning.
“Just take the damn bandage off so I can see it.” He leaned his hip against the counter, waiting.
He’d probably pester me all night, so I tore the gauze and tape off, wincing from the sharp sting. A startled gasp escaped my mouth at how much the agrigon bite had healed. The Calling spell hadn’t done that.
Fane’s rumbling hum hit me right in the lower abdomen. “Should be all healed by the end of tomorrow.”
“Yep.” The tension between us grew tenfold as he continued to scrutinize me. “What?” I finally asked.
The demon shifter shook his head and tipped the bottle of water to his lips. I ate another handful of trail mix and clocked his movements out the corner of my eye. He analyzed me from head to toe as if looking for something. And then his attention settled on my knees, the tendons in his neck flexing as he examined the tiny scars.
“How old were you when you went into foster care?” His voice tumbled out in a rough whisper that had me so distracted it took a moment for his question to register.
“What?” I blinked, shaking the fog from my brain. “I don’t remember being anywhere else.”
His fingers clenched and unclenched. “And those scars?” He pointed to my knees. “How old were you when you got them?”
A sinking suspicion took root in my gut, and my blood turned to ice water in my veins. Earlier, Fane had felt my pain from the agrigon bite. We also had this mental connection and the freaky astral projection ability with each other. Anything was possible at this point. “Did you see my nightmare?”
His head yanked up, and the tightening of his jaw, the tiny muscles feathering in his face, gave him away.
That nosy bastard.
I hopped off the counter and slammed the box of trail mix down. “Stay the fuck out of my head!” Heat seeped into my cheeks, and my eyes burned with tears as humiliation crawled over me like wriggling bugs. Knowing he’d seen me in such a vulnerable memory had my throat tightening and sobs attempting to break free.
“I didn’t do it on purpose.” His nostrils flared. “Do you think I want to see that shit? It’s seared into my mind now. The way that evil woman hurt—” Fane’s mouth snapped shut, and the muscles beneath his skin twitched. His attention dipped to my knees again and then slid to a few spots on my arms that Mrs. Miller had scrubbed hard enough to bleed.
“So sorry my nightmare has inconvenienced you. Try living through it.” I snatched the water off the counter and marched out of the kitchen, biting my tongue to keep the sobs from breaching my lips until I was safely back in the guest room.
Why did this link between us have to allow Fane to see the dark, horrible secrets of my past? What other side effects would arise from this forced relationship? Would I eventually lose all ability to hide anything from the demon shifter, even my damaged heart?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I glared at Fane as he sat at the round table between the kitchen and living room, ignoring me while reading a demon book about the Infernal Sol. “You’re not going without me.”
“Yes, I am.” He casually flipped to another page.
“No, you’re not.” I pressed my hands into the table and leaned toward him, my arm brushing his shoulder. “I am not staying cooped up in this apartment anymore.” We’d been holed up at Logan’s for a week, and I was ready to pull my damn hair out.
The demon shifter prick hadn’t let me step one foot out of the apartment for fear that Karn’s minions could still be slinking around. More likely, he was using that as an excuse to keep me on a short leash. He even went to the store and bought clothes for me, which were perfectly my size and style, but I wouldn’t let him know how much I liked them, especially the tattered jeans and cropped t-shirt with dancing habaneros I currently wore.
His gaze finally lifted from the book, skewering me. “These people I’m going to see don’t like strangers. And if they so much as get a hint that the Infernal Sol is inside of you, they won’t hesitate to gut you to try and get it out.”
I grimaced at the colorful images his words produced. “You won’t let them hurt me.” I jabbed his shoulder with a little too much zeal. “That’s your job, isn’t it?”
Fane’s nostrils flared at the saccharine smile on my face. “You’re not going, Teague.”
“Fine, but I’m not staying here. I’ll just get a ride to your aunt and uncle’s so I can get my bag. I’m sure Preston won’t mind seeing me.” Bringing up his cousin seemed to irritate him.
A vein pulsated in the demon shifter’s neck. “That’s not happening.”
I scoffed. “We’ll see about that. Once you leave, I’m out of here.”
“I’ll tie you to the fucking bed if I have to.” A leer twisted his lips. “I bet you’d like that.” He reached for his glass of lemonade, but I snatched it out of his grasp.
“You’re not my boss, Maverick. And you sure as hell have no right to tell me what to do.” I motioned toward the tattoo on my neck. “This does not give you control over me.”
He plucked his drink right out of my hand. “I’m older than you. That makes me the boss.”
A wry laugh slipped out. “Oh, please. What are you? Twenty-four?”
“I’ve been around a lot longer than that.” Fane suggestively licked his finger and used it to flip the page in the demon book. “I’m an expert in many areas.”
My cheeks heated, picking up on his underlying meaning while a wave of sexual energy flowed off him. “Well, how old are you then, oh wise one?”
“Maybe I’ll show you one day.” A sinister smile twisted the demon shifter’s lips. “If you’re a good girl.”
That voice—deep, gruff, and full of wicked promises—hit me right in the gut, and my feet inched closer to him until his scent washed over me.
Motherfucker. He was trying to distract me. And I hated him for it.
I also hated the thrill that zipped through my bloodstream at the sinful way he said good girl. I’d never been into that kind of thing, and if anyone ever tried it on me, they’d end up with a black eye.
But with Fane… my body wanted to submit to every dirty desire he threatened me with.
Logan stood from the couch and sauntered into the kitchen, shattering the cloud of lust engulfing me. “Age isn’t the same for humans as it is for nightworlders, especially ones who’ve lived in other realms. Time doesn’t pass the same, and it’s not always linear.”
“What Logan means is—” Fane swirled his glass, the ice cubes clinking against the sides. “—I’m older and wiser than you, so I have the right to tell you what to do.” He winked. “It’s for your own good.”
Fury overrode any remaining desire the demon shifter had stoked in me. “Go to hell, Maverick.” I stole his drink again and downed the rest of it, slamming it on the table.
Fane shot me a dry look. “You know I can just get more out of the fridge, right?”
I licked the sweet and sour flavor from my lips and leaned toward him, my hair brushing his shoulder. “I finished the carton while you were busy on the phone making all your mysterious plans.”
His fingers tightened around the book. “You don’t even like lemonade.”
“I do now.” I gave a casual shrug, moving so close that his lip piercing brushed my mouth. “Maybe I inherited the preference courtesy of your bite.”
He sucked in a breath to argue when the doorbell rang.
Logan cursed and pushed off the counter. “There went my entertainment. You two were just getting started.” As soon as he opened the door, his laughter reverberated through the room. “Never mind. This makes it even better.” He moved to allow the visitor inside.
Preston appeared, my black duffel bag dangling from his hand. “Since you weren’t coming back, I thought I’d bring this.”
Hell, there went my excuse to leave.
“That was so nice of you.” I smiled, took the bag, and dropped it by the couch.
Fane flipped the book closed and stood. “I’ll be back.”
Preston’s face fell. “You guys are leaving?”
“Just Fane.” Logan rummaged around in the kitchen cabinets, pulling out a box of crackers. “Tate’s staying here with me.”
“Oh, really?” Preston grinned and folded his broad frame onto the couch. “I could stay for a little while—if that’s okay.”
Logan didn’t bother hiding his grin. “Sure. Why not?”
Preston patted the cushion next to him. “Come sit by me, Tate.”
Fane’s presence formed behind me, a barely audible snarl coiling over my nape. “Don’t even think about messing around with my cousin, Teague.”
I glanced over my shoulder and answered him through our mental link. “It’s funny that you think you can tell me what to do.” I ignored his frown and plopped onto the couch next to Preston.
Fane’s muscles tightened so much his cotton t-shirt could shred apart at any moment. The mental image tumbling into my mind from that thought spread heat into my cheeks.
Logan sat on the other couch with the box of crackers in his hand. “This won’t end well.”
“Preston.” Fane curled and then flexed his fingers, every vein and tendon in his hands pushing through his bronzed skin. “Thanks for bringing her bag, but you can’t stay.”
The shifter scoffed. “Logan said I can, and it’s his place.” He winked at me. “Besides, it’s pretty clear Tate wants me to hang out.”
If it annoyed Fane, then yes, I wanted Preston to stay.
A luminescent sheen melted through the demon shifter’s eyes as he marched toward us and skewered Preston with a glare that had me breaking out in goose bumps. “Let’s go, Pres. I mean it.”
The other shifter shuddered and then shot to his feet, cursing. “Really, dude?”
“Yeah, really.” Fane jerked his head toward the door. “Now.”
Preston sighed and followed Fane through the living room. “If she’s your girl, just admit it, and I’ll stop flirting with her.”
Fane shook his head as he shut the door, but their voices carried to my ears thanks to my supernatural hearing. “She’s not my girl.”
“Then can I ask her out?” Preston inquired.
“No!” Fane’s roar rippled through my insides even from the hall.
Logan couldn’t hold his laughter in anymore. “Fane’s going to throttle his cousin.”
“You might be right.” Despite what Preston thought, Fane keeping his cousin away from me had more to do with me killing Warin than anything else.
“You hungry?” Logan rattled the cracker box.
I shook my head. “I had a sandwich.”
“Want to watch a movie?” He left his couch and then jumped on the other end of mine, grabbing the remote off the coffee table. Once he clicked on Netflix, he started flipping through his recommendations.
My brows furrowed. “Why are all of your recs rom-coms? Do you share your account with someone else?”
Logan scoffed. “I happen to love rom-coms.”
“Yeah, right.” He didn’t seem like the type. Plus, he was a demon.
“How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days is one of my favorites. So is The Proposal.” His eyes brightened as he chuckled, and the sunlight streaming in through the windows glinted on the gold in his hair, making him appear more angelic than anything demonic. “You can’t go wrong with Betty White. I loved her in Lake Placid even though horror’s not really my thing.”
He was dead freaking serious. Instead of lurking in the shadows and slurping down souls, this guy liked to watch romantic comedies. I’d never seen or heard him mention his supernatural appetite. “Don’t you need souls to live on Earth?”
Logan shrugged. “I get enough here and there. Killing or turning desperate humans into soulless assholes isn’t my thing either.” He leaned forward, reached his finger toward my chin, and closed my mouth. “You’re going to catch flies with that thing open.”
I gently pulled out of his grip. “Is that why you have a home here and the Underworld?”
“Maybe.” Instead of picking a movie, he set down the remote. “I have a gym. Want to spar?”
“What kind of question is that?” I jumped to my feet. “Of course I want to spar.” Any physical action would help take my mind off the shit show my life had become. And it would help me forget a certain demon shifter whose image kept popping into my mind.
Logan and I circled each other, my bare feet sinking into the black mats covering the center of the large, open room with cream walls and the same light hardwoods throughout the rest of his apartment.
The place was definitely bigger than I thought. Maybe it had a spell like Corvin Manor.
“Having fun?” Logan watched my every move with a lazy smile.
