Demons Strike Back Read online

She paused on the steps, glancing down Seventh Avenue as if searching for a plan to help her escape. She was feeling strangely vulnerable in the wake of what happened inside.

  The intercom chimed to indicate intermission was over and Circe stepped aside to allow for the men and women outside to make their way back in through the doors.

  She resisted the urge to tell them how the play ended, having seen it four times since opening night.

  If I had known that half of my career would be spent “networking” would I have still pursued modeling?

  It was hard to say, the memory of her old life, living in filth still fresh in her mind. There were not a lot of options for the immortals who were not born in the higher ranks, after all. Where the Lycans and vampires easily assimilated into society, their powers enabling them to overtake the mortals with little issue, she was not a part of the supernatural elite.

  She was immortal, yes, and she possessed certain abilities which made her survival easier, but she was not a demon.

  Shit, even Arya has it better than me.

  “Excuse me.”

  Her gleaming iridescent curls jerked upward to the sound of the man’s mellifluous voice, her heart stopping as she stared into a set of multi-colored eyes.

  “Sorry,” Circe mumbled, instantly recognizing the strange irises as belonging to a demon. She moved back, thinking she was blocking his way but he only laughed, tossing his dark hair back.

  “You’re not in my way,” he assured her, the accent foreign but familiar. “I have a question for you.”

  “Oh,” Circe replied, peeking at him cautiously. “What is it?”

  “You’re Circe Lancaster, aren’t you?”

  Against her better judgement, Circe stared directly into his eyes, zings of electricity exploding over her skin.

  “How did you know that?” she demanded, a dozen worried thoughts sweeping through her mind.

  Is he with Uvall? Is he here looking for Dante?

  It seemed unlikely that anyone would seek her out for information on the Lord of the Underworld. It wasn’t as if Dante was hiding.

  Which means that he’s an agent of Uvall…

  “You’re staring at me funny,” the demon sighed. “Do I have horns on my head?”

  “No,” Circe answered quickly, regaining her composure. There were far too many people around for him to cause a scene. She decided to find out what the hell he wanted.

  “I am Circe Lancaster.”

  His face broke into a wide smile.

  “Wow,” he muttered, extending a huge hand toward her. Inadvertently, Circe found herself checking it out and wondering about the adage regarding a man’s hand and other parts of his body.

  “Kalen Connor.”

  She reluctantly accepted his hand, still confused as to what he wanted from her.

  “I’m sorry,” she told him slowly. “I don’t remember you.”

  He chuckled and shook his head, glancing around before leaning in conspiratorially.

  “We’ve never met,” he explained. “I’m a big fan of yours. I see your face everywhere in Europe, in magazines, in commercials. But your photos don’t do you justice.”

  Relief flooded through her and her shoulders sagged slightly.

  “I see,” she replied, her confidence returning. “Well, I’m very flattered, Mr. Connor, but you are going to miss the show.”

  She didn’t want to entertain another rich person that night – immortal or otherwise.

  Even if he is surreally sexy in that red silk shirt.

  “I think the only thing I want to feast my eyes upon is right in front of me,” he replied easily, refusing to release her hand. “Will you have dinner with me?”

  Corny, but oh so fucking sexy. She shook her head instinctively, gently trying to release her hand, but his grip increased.

  “I’m afraid I have other plans,” she resisted but he leaned in closer, his yellow and emerald eyes searching her face.

  “You must know you can’t lie to someone like me,” he whispered huskily and Circe gazed at him.

  She knew she should feel apprehensive about his nearness and his unwarranted scrutiny, but she couldn’t deny the fission of awareness coursing through her body as he continued to study her face.

  Nothing good can come of this, she warned herself but the alarm she felt was washed away by the increased excitement in her veins.

  “Dinner sounds good,” she heard herself say, allowing herself to be led away. She knew that she had not been hypnotized, at least not in the traditional sense of the word. Circe was being guided by a heat growing inside her as she found herself wondering what the foreign demon looked like naked.

  “Yelp says there’s a five-star French restaurant just around the corner,” Kalen told her, casting her a sidelong look. “You seem like a woman who can appreciate gourmet cooking.”

  “That sounds perfect,” she replied, warmth spreading through her. “But you should know, I’m not in the habit of being whisked off in the night by…strangers.”

  Kalen paused and stared at her face.

  “We’re not strangers, Circe,” he replied, smiling, a twinkle in his jeweled irises. “I feel like I have been searching for you since the first time I saw your face on the cover of Cosmo.”

  Circe chuckled but she didn’t respond as they continued down Seventh Avenue and made their way through the Theater District.

  “I’m glad I touched you in such a way,” she replied dryly, suddenly wondering if she hadn’t made a mistake leaving the show with a crazed fan.

  This still beats wandering around the lobby with Darnell Jacob Collins the third talking out of his ass about “art.”

  It wasn’t like Circe had much of a choice. If Kalen wanted her, he would have no problem taking her, with or without resistance.

  We’ll see how this all plays out, she thought, fingering her clutch to make out the shape of her cell phone inside. Worst case scenario, I’ll call on Dante and he’ll put an end to this.

  “I’m not here to hurt you,” Kalen said casually and she whipped her head to gape at him, realizing her mistake.

  Shit. Of course, he can read my thoughts.

  “Sorry,” she replied evenly. “Old habits die hard. I can’t help but be fatalistic.”

  “It’s what’s kept you surviving for so long, I imagine,” the demon said, raising his arm to show the front of a quaint restaurant. “It’s not easy for a Valkyrie, and you’ve made it incredibly far in this world.”

  A Google search could tell him that I came up from the slums of Seattle but he’s looking at me like he knows more than that about me. And what is it about him which seems so different about the demons I’ve met? I can’t put my finger on it…

  She silenced her thoughts, remembering that he could and likely was, reading her mind in that moment.

  Forcing a quick smile, she shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

  “I do all right.”

  They managed the steps, Circe’s black dress embracing her body like shimmering, black paint. She felt Kalen’s eyes on her as he followed behind but suddenly she wondered if their encounter had been as chance as he had made it seem.

  I guess I’ll find out.

  Kalen joined her at the door where a liveried doorman pulled the thick, antique door open for them to enter.

  “Thank you for having dinner with me,” he murmured, his breath hot in her ear. Shivers exploded over her body and Circe found herself unnaturally tongue-tied. She could only nod as they were led to a table, Kalen’s arm around her waist.

  They sat, watching one another cautiously and silently and Circe tried to relax under his intense examination, but it was nearly impossible. Before she could start any awkward conversation, he spoke again.

  “I’m glad I found you tonight, Circe,” he told her sincerely. “I feel like you’re exactly who I’m looking for.”

  All the doubts she was feeling suddenly dissipated into a puddle and evaporated. She raised her freshly filled
water glass and grinned shyly at him.

  “To whatever may come,” she toasted.

  “To what lays ahead,” he agreed, the clink of their glasses unknowingly consummating the chaos of their future.

  2

  A heady feeling had followed Kalen back to the Four Seasons that evening, his belly full of expensive cuisine and fine wine but that was not the reason for his good mood.

  Imagine meeting Circe Lancaster, he thought, sticking his hand in his pocket to shift his package, which was swelling at the simple idea of the lithe Valkyrie.

  He had his rented limo drop her off at the Mercer where she was staying with some of the other models while they were in New York for the Yves Saint Laurent fashion show.

  “You want to come up for a nightcap?” she asked invitingly, her red lips curving into an innocent, yet inviting, smile.

  There was nothing Kalen wanted more than to taste the mouth he had grown to crave almost subconsciously throughout the time that Circe Lancaster had become a model. But he knew he couldn’t mix business with pleasure.

  Maybe after our business is concluded, he thought, grinning to himself as he let himself into the suite.

  He started when a familiar grating voice rang out inquiringly.

  “How was the show?” Anderly asked, a streak of drool slipping down the side of his lopsided cheek as his head raised from where he had been laying on the suede sofa.

  What the actual fuck?

  “Why are you in my suite?” Kalen demanded, his face contorting in anger as he glanced to the side and spied Evander, lounging in an armchair, casually studying his iPhone. “What is this? An intervention?”

  “Of course not,” the vampire sighed. “We were just waiting for you to return. We have a list of Valkyries in the New York area. I thought you might want them sooner rather than later.”

  Kalen snorted and waved his hand dismissively at the intruders.

  All he wanted was to have an hour or so alone to dream about what he was going to do to Circe when their business was concluded – namely, bend her over the closest horizontal surface and fuck her hard from behind.

  “I’ve already found one,” he snarled, his cock jumping at just the whisper of the fantasy. “Get out.”

  “Who?” Evander demanded, ignoring his request. Kalen felt the dream slipping through his fingers as he faced the fantasy-killer.

  “Circe Lancaster.”

  “The model?” both Deviants cried, leaning forward to stare at him with awed shock.

  “The same,” Kalen replied smartly, dropping his key card and wallet on the entranceway table as he sauntered closer.

  “What did you say to her?” Anderly asked, his rheumy eyes widening with interest.

  “Does she know anything about Uvall?” Evander questioned simultaneously.

  Kalen’s smile faltered slightly.

  “Didn’t I tell you two to get out?” he sighed. “Go, be gone. You’re pissing me off.”

  Evander didn’t move but Anderly jumped to obey, begging Kalen for forgiveness as he shuffled out the door.

  When the troll left, Kalen turned to the immortal.

  “What?” he demanded as Evander shoved his cellphone at him.

  “Circe was a good choice,” he said thoughtfully, his brow furrowed slightly. “She has an indirect connection to Dante.”

  Kalen had not known that. In fact, he had not chosen Circe at all. It had been a complete fluke that he had seen her outside the St. James theater, looking rather lost.

  Until that moment, Kalen had not realized that the world-renowned model was a Valkyrie at all. What he had told her was true; he had come to recognize the lines of her face through billboards all throughout his travels.

  She was every man’s wet dream, mortal or not, and if he had given it any more than a superficial thought, Kalen would have realized that there was something supernatural about her. But until seeing her on the steps that night, it had not occurred to him.

  What are the chances that we need a Valkyrie and the sexiest one imaginable, the one I’ve dreamed of licking like an ice cream cone, is dropped in my lap?

  He couldn’t have stopped himself from approaching her, if only to see her closer. A part of him had expected her to be less attractive without being airbrushed, but he had been pleasantly surprised to see that she was every bit as breathtaking as her photos in the glossy magazines he had seen.

  At first, he had hesitated, something holding him back from approaching her confidently as he normally would have.

  But soon, he regained his usual cocksure attitude and made his way toward her, whisking her off to dinner before she could change her mind.

  Not that I couldn’t have forced her to join me, but where is the honor in that? Just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you should.

  He tried to explain that to the blood still rushing into his crotch.

  “I’m seeing her tomorrow,” Kalen told Evander. “We will discuss what needs to be done then.”

  Instantly, Evander picked up on what he had said.

  “Wait a second,” the investigator said, rising from his spot. “If you didn’t recruit her tonight, what did you do?”

  Kalen was chagrined as he realized that Evander had seen something in the meeting between himself and Circe that he didn’t want the vampire to have figured out.

  “Never mind,” he snapped defensively. “And get the hell out of here like I told you.”

  “She doesn’t know, does she? You haven’t told her who you are?”

  “I’m seeing her tomorrow,” Kalen growled. “I wasn’t about to walk up to her and say ‘Hey, I’m the leader of the Corpus and I need to find Uvall because he owes me.’”

  “Kalen, she’ll be eager to help,” Evander explained. “Her best friend was almost killed by the sorceress traveling with Uvall.”

  Kalen nodded thoughtfully.

  “That is definitely useful,” he replied and he meant it. He didn’t want to tell Circe who he was, not specifically anyway. If she already had a beef with Uvall, that would make things much easier and he could keep the details of who he was hidden from her.

  Since when are you ashamed of who you are? There is no shame in being the leader of the Corpus. Be proud of what you have.

  It was his father’s voice mocking him and Kalen tried to silence the jeer, taking solace from the fact that his father was rotting in limbo.

  But that didn’t make the shame in his gut boil any cooler.

  “True,” Kalen told Evander evenly. “But, seriously, if you don’t leave, I’m about to go medieval on your ass.”

  The vampire nodded and spun to leave without argument, sensing the sincerity of his boss’ tone.

  “Let me know how it goes,” Evander said before departing.

  Kalen didn’t respond, only half-paying attention to the PI’s retreating frame, his mind back on the dinner with Circe.

  If I recruit her to help me, it’s inevitable that she’ll learn who I am, he thought, weighing the pros and cons of what he was thinking. He had been on the brink of asking her for her help that night but something had stopped him.

  Perhaps it was knowing that he needed to possess her, just one time.

  She’s much too attractive to be good in bed, he reasoned. We’ll have a quick romp in the hay and the novelty of her will be gone. Then we can have a business relationship.

  Kalen wondered who he was fooling and allowed himself to fall back on the sofa, unbuckling his belt as he finally permitted his strong hand to slip inside his silk boxers, the image of Circe’s glowing saffron eyes boring into his.

  His eyes half closed as his fist enclosed the semi-hard shaft. With long, tight motions, he let himself return to the dream he had started on his way up to his place. If he inhaled deeply, he could smell Circe’s sweet but spicy scent in his nostrils.

  There had been an undeniable spark between them. Even the waitstaff had kept their distance, as if sensing that something exciting was growing
between the attractive pair.

  As his strokes increased in speed, he remembered watching her lips move as they sat in the restaurant, wondering what they would feel like around his cock and the idea only made him harder.

  “There’s something different about you,” he remembered her saying. “You’re not like the demons I know.”

  “I’m not from around here,” he told her, keeping his gaze trained on her face. He didn’t want her to sense the intensity of his desire.

  Well she can’t see my hard-on. And she’s not a demon so she can’t discern my emotions.

  Kalen grunted, the memory, stalling what was supposed to be a pleasurable moment for him. The mere thought that Circe might learn the truth about him had put a damper on his arousal.

  He clung to his partially engorged unit, envisioning Circe in a different environment and in seconds, he was fully engorged again, his teeth gritting with the strength of his arousal. In his mind’s eye, she was there with him in the hotel suite.

  Kalen pictured her in the Victoria’s Secret number she had rocked on stage a couple years earlier, a white and gold shear bodysuit which accented her long legs and firm breasts.

  He willed her closer with his eyes and she moved toward him as if transfixed by his face.

  “I knew you would come back for me,” she whispered, straddling him as he grasped his rock-hard member. “I knew you couldn’t stay away.”

  “Of course I came back,” he growled. “Kiss me.”

  She didn’t need to be told a second time, leaning her face forward so their lips meshed together, her hot skin touching his as her center grazed his.

  He could feel the heat of her core burning through his boxers and in his dream, she tasted just as he had imagined; a combination of honey and expensive wine.

  Her hips rocked against him gently, the lace of her panties slipping against the moist cleft of her opening and Kalen groaned aloud.

  His hand cupped the top of his pulsating head as if it was her slippery opening, dancing over the bundle of nerves, and he groaned loudly, feeling his sack tighten.

  No, not yet, he told himself, exhaling sharply but he couldn’t slow his movements as the Circe in his vision draped herself over him and guided him inside him. His hips surged upwards, as if impaling her deeply, his fist tightening even more on his rigid shaft.