No tiptoes this time.How disappointing.
“I didn’t mean that as an insult,” I told her. While Guinevere had picked up a hint of steel in her attitude that I hadn’t witnessed from her before, she was still my charge, and I knew that she didn’t always take what she needed for fear of killing. Even as she lay her tray on the counter beside the stove and then flicked the switch to illuminate the oven, I could feel the barest hint of hunger in her. Hunger that inflamed my own.
Hunger that had nothing to do with coffee cake.
“Whatever,” she muttered, the term a favorite of hers when frustrated.
I studied her for a long moment. “Perhaps weshouldgo feed,” I began, ready to offer up something I probably shouldn’t. Except a familiar presence brushed my senses, silencing me from uttering another word.
Decades in Lord Zebulon’s bed had gifted me the ability to detect him even before he appeared. I stilled. Guinevere remained unaware, her gaze meeting mine with a question lurking deep in her blue eyes, waiting for me to continue.
Then the scent of smoke swirled around us, followed by the delicious, devastating power that Lord Zebulon wielded like a whip.
“That won’t be happening,” he announced, his voice low and grave.
Eavesdropper, I merely teased.
Guinevere blanched and dropped the cake tray as her gaze latched on the Demonic Lord standing at my back. The metal tray hit the marble floor with a dull thunk and she fell into a deep bow beside it, pressing her forehead to the floor. “My lord.”
Lord Zebulon stepped around me and caught my gaze. Beneath the fluorescent lighting of Guinevere’s modern kitchen, he appeared even more otherworldly than usual. The luminescent glow gleamed off of his dark skin, giving him an almost angelic appeal. I glanced upward, smirking at the heavens.Oh, you must hate that,I mused.
“Trouble?” I wondered out loud, returning my focus to him.
He dipped his chin—the dusting of black hairs suggesting he hadn’t shaved in a few days. It was a good look on him, one he should consider maintaining.
But rather than say that, I nodded in return.
Then his focus dropped to the beauty on the ground. A supplicating female was his kryptonite, and I saw the interest in his gaze as he moved to crouch before her. “Stand, Guinevere,” he whispered, his fingers dancing along her jaw as he brought her head up from the ground. “There’s been a third kill,” he informed her softly.
She flinched. “Another one?”
“Yes,” he replied, helping to guide her to her feet.
“But I’ve been here. I haven’t left.”
“Yes, except you fed last night before I arrived,” Lord Zebulon pointed out.
Guinevere’s brow knitted together, and she glanced at me briefly as though searching for support. As I hadn’t been here, I had none to offer. “Okay, yes, I did, but Trevor left here alive. Gleason saw him leaving.”
“Taylor,” Lord Zebulon corrected. “Taylor Smith. An accountant from Knoxville, here for a conference downtown, according to the file.”
“I swear his name was Trevor,” Guinevere muttered, more to herself than to either of us. “But that doesn’t change the fact he left here alive, and Gleason can confirm it. Gleasondidconfirm it. Right?” Her voice cracked on the final word. “My lord, you have to believe me.”
Lord Zebulon must have sensed the rising hysteria in her, just as I did, because he cupped her face and gazed down at her with barely veiled affection.
The sight stirred me in a way I couldn’t quite explain. I wondered if she could see the suppressed cravings in him, or if he hid it from her view. The latter was more likely as very few knew the Demonic Lord as I did.
When he spoke again, his voice had gentled. “I believe you. But we have a much larger problem now.” His hand fell away from Guinevere’s face and he turned to me—the affectionate look on his face disappearing in lieu of his usual hardness. “Someone has told Ashmedai. He’s demanding an audience.”
The news made my body go cold.
Archdemons took the balance of power in Hellveryseriously. If Ashmedai believed Guinevere was a threat to that balance or the rules that went with it, he’d demand castigation… or worse. Demons could live on earth so long as there was no obvious demonic interference in human life. Killing a mortal was fine. However, making it public? Yeah, that didn’t go over well with the underworld hierarchy.
The rumor of a succubus leaving her kills in plain sight for the human authorities to find was definitely a punishable offense. Proof wouldn’t even be necessary. Archdemons were swift and brutal in their response to rule-breakers, even if on unfounded rumors.
At a minimum, Ashmedai would ground her in Hell. Demons who didn’t respect the tenuous relationship with humans weren’t allowed to be near them. And he’d likely demand she remain in the underworld indefinitely.
Shit.
