The Cambions were gone, leaving her with the Incubus. He was a few feet away, waiting for her.
"C'mon," she said, unafraid. "Take your shot. You only get one before I take your head off."
"I have a better deal." He stepped towards her fearlessly. She found herself enthralled by the rhythm of his Southern drawl.
Zoey stood her ground. She raised the knife. He met her extended arm, unconcerned with the knife she pressed to his neck. At the impact of their skin, she almost dropped to her knees. Lightening tore through her and with it, the uncanny sense they were somehow connected. It stopped her from sliding the knife across his neck as she had the necks of so many others.
The Incubus couldn't know that and yet wasn't afraid of her. It was freaking her out.
"Double or nothing: you won't make it to dawn, if I don't heal you."
"I didn't ask you to help," she replied.
"Last night was a freebie. I don't like not getting paid," he said, once again touching her face like she was already his.
His magic swept through her. She gasped. He backed her into the wall, the weapon at his neck. Gazing up at him, she was unable to shake the images from earlier, those of him using his mouth to take her to orgasm.
"You can bleed out here or you can pay my price," he added. "Two nights with me."
Fear trickled through her for the first time at his calm. He meant every word. She could see him standing there, watching her die.
She tried hard to focus on him. Blood loss and his magic clouded everything. He moved closer. She pushed him back, too weak to drive him far. Zoey pulled free her other knife. He snatched her wrist and pinned it against the wall.
His whiskey eyes flashed with something dangerous, something even she knew to fear.
"First things first." His husky voice was lethal. "Rule number one: Never draw your weapons on me again." He gripped the wrist holding the dagger to his neck and pinned it above her head. He leaned into her. The contact made tunnel vision form. His proximity was enough to overwhelm her muddled senses. She tugged at his sex energy, trying to stay afloat. As before, he didn't try to block her.
"Understand?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied.
He removed the weapons from her hands and tossed them without breaking contact. She was fading fast. She felt her body giving out.
"You can die. Or you can fuck me," he said. "You won't make it five minutes, let alone until dawn."
She swallowed hard, the darkness around the edges of her mind closing in on her.
"Choose."
"You win. I'll fuck you," she murmured.
"Good choice." He pressed a hand to the wound.
Zoey groaned and leaned into him. Her eyes closed, the darkness swallowing her.
Chapter Nine: Strike One.
For the second night in a row, Declan held his unconscious soul-mate in his arms. He maneuvered her until he was able to hold her. He almost waited too long, but she insisted on playing a game of chicken with him.
He was too stubborn to back down. He sensed her folding before she did and recalled the fear in her gaze. He had no intention of letting his soul-mate die, but she believed his bluff.
Her ragged breathing turned deep. She was absorbing his magic as fast as he pushed it into her. Her blood dripped down his body, and he grimaced. Every time their paths crossed, she ruined his clothing.
Still, holding her against him soothed the raging desire he fought all day. He waited for her body to stabilize and lifted her in his arms. The alley was littered with dead Cambions. His instincts and the Professor's words were right: she was as powerful as a Succubus without the ability to control it. The Professor's bond to her was too weak to stabilize her when she fought.
This time, he wasn't taking her back. He was taking her home. He used his magic to hide them as he walked the short distance to the apartment building where the Incubatti elite lived. He made it up to his room but hesitated to put her in his bed; she was a train wreck.
With more self-control than he ever used for anything, he cut off her clothing with one of her knives and cleaned her up before placing her in his bed. He changed fast and went to the gym, aware she wasn't going to be awake for hours. Every step he took turned his mood fouler.
He made it to the gym with the hope of working off some of his sexual frustration. The moment he reached the weight bench, he heard the door open and close behind him. Declan glanced over his shoulder then turned.
"Why the fuck did you do that?" Paul, the Cambion leader with mismatched eyes, was furious.
"Do what?" Declan replied calmly.
"Call off my Cambions from taking care of that Hunter. She's been slaughtering them right and left. I finally had the situation under control."
Declan's jaw clenched, but he drew a deep breath. Playing nice was something he was relatively good at.
"That particular Hunter is my soul-mate," he replied. "Your Cambions will not touch her."
Paul stared at him, surprise apparent on his features.
"Why did you keep it from the Council?" he managed.
"I'm required to inform the Council only after the rite is completed," Declan reminded him. "It's not finished."
"What stage?"
"First." Sensing the Cambion's agitation, Declan couldn't help adding. "You pushed her straight into my arms, for which I thank you."
"You used my Cambions to trap her." Paul's face went pale then grew pink.
"Yeah," Declan said. He offered a smile. "She's the strongest Halfling I've ever met."
The Cambion seemed ready to snap at him then thought better of it. "Congrats, I guess," he said finally. "Can you keep her from killing off my Cambions?"
"One thing at a time. Let me get through the rite and transition into the Chief Enforcer position," Declan said. "At that point, we can discuss my wife's activities with regards to your Cambions."
"Very well," the Cambion leader muttered. He whirled then left, slamming the door to the gym behind him.
Declan's gaze lingered. Paul normally didn't snap at the Enforcers, aware of the chasm between their levels of magic. Something else was wrong with the Cambion. Declan sipped his water and rubbed his temples. His head was aching, probably from the need to claim his soul-mate. Dismissing Paul's outburst, Declan tossed his towel and prepared for a grueling workout.
He spent two hours in the gym, went for a run and continued to feel like a caged beast. At last, he returned to his apartment for a shower and stripped, his body calming the moment he touched her again.
With some of the fire dampened, Declan drifted to sleep, the woman clutched in his arms.
Zoey floated in the darkness before she gradually became aware of the magic moving through her. It wasn't hers, but it was warm and gentle, prodding her away from the edge of death. A slow, steady heartbeat calmed the frantic beating of her own heart until hers matched the pace. Her breathing synced with that of another. Unable to determine where she ended and the other person began, she started to panic. What if someone had hijacked her magic? What if she couldn't escape?
The sense of being in a cozy cocoon greeted her as she regained consciousness some time later. It was dark, aside from the light of a single dancing candle somewhere in the room. Zoey's hand went to her stomach. There was a scar where there had been a wound before. She was curled in the arms of the source of the magic. It wasn't invasive like the Professor's. This magic was subtle and consuming, ensnaring her willpower along with her senses.
The idea of being out of control of her own body scared her. She broke the rhythms running through her, pulling away from whoever it was to roll onto her belly.
The sensations of the surrounding world hit her at once. Her head and body ached. The magic was demanding entrance to her body, and the air conditioning was cold against her skin. She was naked and vulnerable, her head swimming to the point she grew nauseous. She'd been fighting Cambions then...what?
She groaned.
"Easy," a husky voice said. It made her shiver. The speaker touched her back, and her world righted.
"Oh, god!" she exclaimed. "Where the fuck am I?"
The silky chuckle told her more than she wanted to know. Sex energy roared to life within her, as affected by the Incubus in the bed beside her as the need for release after fighting so many Cambions. For his part, the Incubus was controlling his magic. The memory of the battle in the alley sharpened.
"My god. What did I agree to?" she asked, horrified.
Zoey looked at him finally. It was forbidden to sleep with the enemy Incubuses. If the Sucubatti didn't have a reason to fry her after all her disciplinary hearings, they would now.
Her Incubus had beautiful hazel eyes. His ruffled hair was brown and short, his features chiseled and strong with a two day growth along his jaw that made him look rebellious. His body was lean, supple muscle beneath golden skin. Covered from the waist down by a sheet, he was nonetheless stunning. She took in the flat abs and wide chest, the shapely shoulders and thick biceps, the outline of his narrow hips and muscular thighs beneath the sheet.
He lay on his side, one hand propping up his head while the other rested on her back. His hand was large and strong, its heat piercing the thin sheet.
"Two nights with the man who saved your life. Small price to pay," he said, holding her gaze.
"Unless it lands me in hot water!"
"Something tells me you're accustomed to hot water. Tonight will be a cakewalk for you."
The complete stranger in bed with her was teasing her. Did she laugh or run? Her eyes traveled over him again. She'd always been curious, yes, but this wasn't the kind of man she'd ever been with. According to Vikki's journal, an Incubus would strip her to her soul when he made love to her, master her body in a way that no one else ever would. There'd be nothing she could keep from him. He'd pleasure her, on his terms, with magic more powerful than anything she'd seen before. He'd command and consume her, and she'd be utterly vulnerable for the first time in her life.
Zoey hated the idea of being vulnerable.
"I promised to be gentle," the Incubus reminded her, reading her confusion. "I've got you for two nights." The confident, amused smile that spread across his features did nothing to comfort her.
"You totally set me up," she accused.
"Yeah." His Southern accent drew out the monosyllabic word in a way she found sexy. "Never play a game you can't win."
"Why are you playing with me?"
His slow smile and direct gaze were all the response she received.
"I'm not coming back tomorrow," she told him.
"You can pick the second night. But you will pay up."
Zoey didn't know what to think. She was healed, energized, and the sex energy calm. She'd never felt that combination yet cursed herself for making a bet with him while half-dead.
"Don't be scared," he said gently. "It'll be worth your while."
"I'm not afraid of you."
"C'mere then. I'll quiet the fire in your blood. Promise."
Her body flared to life at his words. She wanted him to do what sex with Eric and killing Cambions couldn't. Her heart beat faster than when she'd run a half-marathon.
His hand slid across her back and to her hip. He tugged, giving her the option to refuse him, if she chose to stay where she was on her belly.
Unaccustomed to being off-guard, Zoey hesitated then gave. He rolled her onto her back, until her side met his body. Her pulse raced at the feel of his skin against hers. He draped a thick thigh over hers possessively. His hand rested on her bare stomach, the skin-to-skin contact making desire hum through her. His gaze stayed on hers as she struggled to control the effect he had on her. Her caged sex energy screamed to be released.
"I don't normally have sex with complete strangers," she said. "Or enemies. Or random men I meet in bars."
"I'm not going to hurt you. Promise." His hand traveled up her body, between her breasts. He traced her collarbone then trailed his index finger along the side of her neck. His touch left a trail of warmth and magic.
"Will you tell me your name?"
"Declan."
"I'm Zoey. Nice to meet you, maybe."
He chuckled. "My pleasure, Zoey."
He traced her jaw line then her lips. She shivered in response and saw the fire of desire light in his eyes.
"Show me that brave girl who laughed at the Cambions and threatened to behead me twice," he teased. "That's a turn on, by the way."
"I thought your kind was always turned on."
"Only when we see something we want."
"You wanted me?" she asked.
"In every way I know how. I'll show you."
She laughed, uncertain how to take his words. His scent was like the toasted vanilla of creme brlee. He smelled like cookies. He filled her senses and made her mouth water. She was hungry to taste him. His hand traveled down her neck again, between her breasts, to her stomach. He held her gaze as he continued downwards, pushing aside the sheet to expose her body. His hand returned to her stomach and trailed down one hip to her thigh. The lazy circle he traced on her thigh made her lower stomach burn. The longer he touched her, the more her body relaxed, as if he was meant to touch her.
"This feels too un-weird," she whispered at last.
"I know." He lowered his face nearer hers. "Like it's supposed to happen."
"I don't believe in fate."
"I didn't before tonight."