Demon Walking Page 5

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he boomed.

  “I am returning to my hotel before my chocolate milk goes bad. It was nice meeting you both. I hope you have many happy years together. Toodles.” She waggled her fingers before exiting.

  For a moment, he stared at the door, stunned. A dragon, here in his home. An attractive one. A woman who had seen him and was leaving! Probably to report his presence.

  Taking long strides, Luc hurried after her, making it to the kitchen door and flinging it open in time to see her changing shape, a brilliant yellow dragon—not gold, or any other shade, but yellow—taking to the sky with a grocery sack in her clawed hand. She uttered a trilling noise that could only be an ominous warning.

  Luc whirled on Alfred. “Who is she? Where did you find her?”

  “She claims her name is Elspeth. Elsie for short. She was at the same market as me and insisted on providing aid given my advanced years.”

  “She called you weak?”

  “Not exactly, sir. In this time, it is considered respectful to aid those more senior with chores.”

  “Treat them as invalids more like. Are you an invalid, Alfred?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good, because in my world, when the weak could no longer care for themselves, they volunteered their lives to the suzerain to spare those with more able bodies.”

  “I’ve still got plenty of strength left to serve, sir.”

  “Good, because I have need of you, Alfred.”

  The old man straightened. “What does my master require? I replenished the freezer with ice cream as requested.”

  “Really?” For a moment, Luc forgot the yellow dragoness in favor of recollecting how the cold treat melted in his mouth, creating a groaningly pleasant experience that he couldn’t get enough of.

  “Would you like a bowl, sir?”

  Yes. But duty came first. Luc shook his head. “No. We must prepare, Alfred.”

  “Prepare for what, sir?”

  “Guests. Uninvited ones. It won’t be long before that female returns with her companions. We must ready for attack. Arm the defenses,” he barked. “Load the catapults. Boil the cauldrons of oil. Ready the archers.”

  “Er, sir, we have no weaponry.”

  Startled, Luc paused in his pacing. “What do you mean, we have no weapons? What kind of castle is this? How am I supposed to defend against my enemies?”

  “Perhaps you are mistaken. I don’t think the girl meant you any harm.”

  “Shows how little you know about dragons.” They were evil creatures. Who cared what the stories on his moving picture box claimed? Train them, indeed.

  Not the dragons he knew. They came to his world, centuries before his birth. Pretended friendship. Then stole his people’s secrets and perverted them.

  When the dragons could no longer hide their actions, they imprisoned Luc’s people. To which, Luc always asked, “Why didn’t you fight?”

  And his father’s reply? “We were banished to that realm for our violent natures. We overcame our primal impulses to build a society. To fight would have been to turn our backs on that achievement.”

  “But you became slaves.”

  “Better slaves than a return to the monsters we once were.”

  A logic that had led to the extinction of Luc’s people.

  I am the only one left, and I don’t care what my father or his ancestors thought. I won’t allow myself to be a victim. Not anymore.

  Despite the lack of crossbows, the castle did have one ancient sword hanging on the wall in the great room.

  Taking to the ramparts, Luc sharpened the old, pitted blade and watched the sky. He remained sentinel—with a cup of hot cocoa and a plate of cookies Alfred had brought—as night turned back into day.

  The dawning blue sky showed not a speck marring it.

  Nothing appeared by air or by land, not even a stunningly beautiful dragoness with a smile and speech meant to confuse. With a scent that aroused, rather than repelled. Probably part of a spell to muddle his senses.

  A potent hex since he couldn’t forget her.

  Someone cleared their throat. “Ahem. Would the master like me to draw him a warm bath? Your bones are probably chilled from spending the night outdoors.”

  A bath did sound pleasant. Perhaps it would ease his disappointment, which he felt surely as a result of a battle not ensuing—and not because his balls ached.

  However, the steamy basin of water did nothing to ease the tension in his groin. He shagged himself, spending his seed and achieving a measure of relief that lasted but a moment. He only had to close his eyes and picture a dancing green gaze to harden again.

  How utterly irritating, and evidence of one crucial thing.

  I need a female.

  A real female—preferably with blonde hair—and not his hand to sate his needs.

  “Alfred?” he bellowed, and his manservant, towel in hand, immediately answered.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I wish to purchase the services of a courtesan.”

  “Not too many of those around here, sir, but given you’re a handsome fellow, might I suggest a local tavern where the women are often receptive to masculine attention if you buy them a few drinks.”

  “A tavern?” He’d never been to one but had heard stories of them and seen hints of what Alfred spoke of on the moving picture box. He’d also never drunk alcohol. Their prison didn’t provide more than the basics for sustenance—barely.

  “Yes, a tavern. There’s a place not too far from the castle. Perhaps you’ll have luck finding a woman there.”

  Luc rose from the tub, water streaming from his limbs. “That is a fine idea, Alfred. I shall go at once.”

  “Perhaps you might want to rest first. The taverns don’t begin truly having patrons of the kind you’re seeking until after the dinner hour.”

  Rest after a night spent awake and watching did sound good. “Very well. Keep watch upon the ramparts whilst I sleep, Alfred. Sound the alarm if the enemy approaches.”

  No one appeared to disturb his rest, which meant that he slept the day away. Only as dusk fell did Luc find himself at the door to a tavern, dressed in a strange material Alfred called denim and a soft shirt that hugged his chest rather intimately. He lacked any kind of protective gear.

  Alfred wouldn’t let him wear any armor, even though the metal suit he’d found in the upper gallery fit him, if tightly. His servant also gave him a few tips on dealing with women of this world. The old man ticked them off one by one on his fingers before dropping him off.

  “Remember to compliment them. Offer to buy them a drink. Ask them if they are on birth control.”

  “Humans can’t easily sire children with my kind.” Or so he was taught.

  “You might also want to refrain from referring to them as humans,” Alfred advised before Luc stepped out of the metal carriage with the noisy steeds under the hood.

  “Peasants?”

  “No.”

  Luc sighed. “This lack of respect for their betters is tiring.”

  “You aren’t ruling the world yet, sir. I would suggest being covert until you do.”

  “You are wise for a human, Alfred.”

  “Thank you, sir. Here, take this.” Alfred handed over the bits of paper he’d claimed would act as wealth. A flimsy wealth that would never survive a fire like pure metal could.

  He stuffed the paper into his pocket and entered the tavern with its raucous noise. Luc gaped at the bawdy place.

  Gloomy, only a few dim lights illuminated the tavern with its high tables and stools. Music, with a hard thump that vibrated his bones, filled the room. The volume of it kept him from hearing the many conversations taking place because the tavern found itself overly occupied.

  By courtesans! They were everywhere, wearing short and tight garments that exposed most of their legs. They wore brilliant face paint. Some had even grown out their claws—which he’d never known the human females could do—an
d colored them.

  The males, of all types, young and old, were dressed much like he was, and most of them conducted business with the courtesans.

  I’ve come to the right place.

  Now to pick out a female to satisfy his carnal needs.

  A few steps in, his cock went ramrod hard, and he exclaimed, “You!”

  Chapter Five

  “You, come with me.”

  The woman proved amenable to joining him outside. The door, marked in glowing letters as Exit, led into an alley, the smell not as fresh as the green, grassy fields he liked to bury the bodies in.

  The female draped her arms around his neck, wrapping him tightly, her lips, coated with a colored wax, pressed to his. The alcohol she’d imbibed was strong enough to ignite.

  He allowed her to embrace him, even to touch him, but he didn’t reciprocate. He cast out his senses in search of anyone nearby that might spy on them.

  Naught but the tiny flickers of rodent life, scurrying in search of dinner.

  I’m hungry, too. Hungry enough that he didn’t wait for home. He latched onto her mouth, but the taste wasn’t the sweetness he craved. He hoisted her against the wall with one hand while the other fisted her yellow hair.

  He drew her neck back and trailed his mouth over the skin, feeling the flutter of her pulse against his lips.

  That excited him.

  He held her pinned to the wall with his body to free a hand to unfasten his trousers. He shoved up her skirt.

  She panted. “Yes. Yes.”

  The cries of encouragement continued when he entered her, a hard thrust then another as he continued to suck at the skin of her neck.

  It didn’t take him long to reach his peak.

  To feel himself on the edge of spilling.

  He struck, the body in his grasp stiffening, but not fighting. With a last soft exhale, she died in his arms, feeding him what he needed.

  He sucked her dry then pulled away, letting her fall into a boneless heap on the ground.

  He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, removing the last stain of the waxen gloss she’d left on him.

  A faint echo of voices at the end of the alley drew his sharp attention. They passed, and yet were a reminder that he’d acted out in the open. The evidence lay at his feet.

  Not for long.

  He twisted his hand, and a ball of flame danced on the palm. Dropping the flame onto the body ignited her hair and clothes.

  By the time someone discovered the fire, it would be too late. The magical flames ate at the body until nothing was left but bones. Evidence of foul play, but nothing that would link back to him.

  The deed done, he exited the alley to the entrance of the noisy establishment. Every time the door opened, a wave of sound emerged. He caught a glimpse of bodies. Bare skin. Delicious.

  Those inside were safe for the moment, though. He’d sated his hunger.

  Chapter Six

  After a day spent watching the Emerald house—do nothing—Babette declared they needed to do something fun.

  Elspeth suggested a movie. Babette dragged her to a tavern instead.

  “This place is awfully tame,” Babsy complained, giving the bar a side-eye. “Where’s the mechanical bull? Or the cage dancers? Heck, there’s not even a dance floor.”

  “Use your imagination,” Elspeth prompted. “If you feel a need to kick up your heels, there’s always the tables or the bartop.”

  “True.” Babette eyed the scarred, wooden surfaces. “And now that we’re here, I’ll bet we can liven things up.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Elspeth exclaimed. “Look for the positive in every situation.”

  “More like get drunk until you don’t care. Speaking of which, I need something in a frosted mug. What do you want?”

  “Water, please,” Elspeth said.

  “Water?” Babs sounded aghast. “This is a bar, not a gym. Screw that healthy shit.”

  “I don’t drink alcohol. It doesn’t agree with me.”

  “Then how about a soda?”

  Elspeth shook her head. “I can’t ingest caffeine, either. I get hyper.”

  “You mean this is you au naturel?” Babette’s mouth rounded. “Shit. That’s scary. I’ll be back. I need a drink because I, for one, am not allergic and could use one.”

  Off stomped her best friend, not pleased by the fact that the Emeralds weren’t answering her calls for further discussion. Babette kept railing that there was something fishy about Joanna’s explanation. Given her BFF’s preoccupation with the Emeralds, Elspeth never had a chance to detail her encounter with the handsome man the day before.

  A man who smelled yummy and different. Not human. Not shifter. Or dragon. Like nothing she’d ever encountered. And his eyes…they reminded her of her dreams.

  A shame he was already in a committed relationship. He’d managed to pique her interest.

  Since their meeting, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Remembering his electric presence. His short, dark hair. His stern expression that begged for her to do something, anything, to make those lips curve into a smile.

  She wasn’t kidding when she’d told him he smelled good enough to lick. And eat. And…

  Thinking of him again was probably what triggered the memory of his smell. Cinnamon spice. All that was nice.

  “You!”

  Why, she even heard his voice.

  “What are you doing here?” he barked before coming into view.

  A bright smile burst forth. “Well, hello again.”

  “Are you following me?” he asked.

  She blinked. “I don’t think so.”

  “What do you mean you don’t think so? Are you, or aren’t you?”

  “Well, I wasn’t consciously planning to follow you, and yet, I have found my thoughts consumed by my recollection of our meeting. Therefore, it is possible on some subliminal level that my spirit, drawn to you, managed to decipher via the esoteric waves of fate where you would be and arranged for me to arrive before you.”

  He blinked. Long, dark lashes over those vivid eyes. “You are insane.”

  “Not according to my doctors.” But she did hear that a lot. Mother claimed it was because her mind worked on a different level than everyone else’s.

  “I know what you’re doing,” he said, leaning in, bringing his mouthwatering scent close.

  “What am I doing?” Because she hadn’t the slightest clue. Good thing he knew, though. One of them should understand what was happening.

  “You’re trying to disarm me with your sexual appeal. Obviously, your words are some kind of spell meant to bedazzle me.”

  “They are?” Wow, she’d never known she had that ability. Weird visions. Freakish strength. Optimism. And now, a power to mesmerize handsome men. Or at least one man.

  “Your magic spell won’t work. I am telling you right now that my attraction to you will never come to fruition. I am strong enough to resist.”

  “I should hope you resist. Think of Alfred.” It was what she did to prevent her hands from grabbing him and groping him inappropriately.

  “Furthermore, you can tell your dragon superiors that I won’t be easy to beat. I will have my revenge.”

  “Oooh. A vendetta. How awesome. Tell me more.” She cupped her chin in her hands and prepared to listen intently.

  He pulled away. “I am not revealing the details of my plan. Suffice it to say, it will be devious, and bloody.”

  “Sounds like fun. When does it start?”

  His lips flattened. “I’ve already said too much. Stop following me.” He turned, presenting a delicious view of his glutes as he strutted away, shouting, “Barkeep, a mug of your finest ale.”

  Babette chose that moment to return, sliding a glass with a lemon wedge and fizzing clear liquid at her. Her bestie had chosen a large tankard of a rather foul-looking beer with a thick froth on top as her beverage of choice.

  Elspeth eyed her glass. “This isn’t water.”

&nb
sp; “It’s tonic water. The fancy version.”

  “I should probably stick to the regular kind.”

  “Okay.” Babette’s lower lip jutted. “I guess I’m a shitty friend for not listening.”

  “I’m being so ungrateful. I’m sorry. This is fine.” Contrition had Elspeth taking a big swallow, the fizzing liquid a touch bitter, but she downed half the glass and smiled.

  Babette returned her grin before sipping her beverage of choice. “I gotta ask, where did you find that dress?”

  “Custom-made, actually.” Given her general height proved a disadvantage for off-the-rack shopping, Elspeth engaged the services of a seamstress for her fancier attire. The one she sported was a crisp white covered in glossy cherries, the collar hemmed in lace. The sleeves were tight, as was the waist before it belled into a pleated skirt that swung if she twirled.

  “It would be killer if you wore it with stiletto heels.”

  “Sharp spikes and I don’t get along.” Not to mention at over six feet already, adding a few more inches tended to intimidate people.

  “See any prospects worthy of getting under your skirt?” Babette asked, glancing at the crowd inside the bar.

  Just one. “There is a guy.”

  “Really?” Babette rounded on her with rounded eyes. “What guy?”

  “The yummy-smelling one I met yesterday.”

  “You met a guy? When? How?” Babsy hammered.

  “Last night at his house.”

  “Please do not tell me you went to a strange guy’s house alone without telling anyone.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay, what?”

  “I won’t tell you.”

  Babette blinked. “You went, didn’t you?”

  Elspeth nodded.

  “Did you blow him?”

  “Babsy!” Her cheeks heated.

  “No head? Can’t blame you. I’m a pie girl myself. Did you do the horizontal tango? Or is he a shifter into the doggy style?”

  While Elspeth was a rather open person, reminding her of some of the fantasies she’d entertained about Alfred’s master did make her squirm. Elspeth gulped more of her drink. It heated her from the inside out.