Knight's Redemption (Knights of Hell Book 1) Page 2

  Eric hadn’t started out like this, but over the course of their relationship he’d changed. At first, she’d brushed off his behavior, coming up with excuses for his hurtful comments, happy that someone actually wanted her. But along the way, he’d turned from a shy, sweet guy into an obsessive, cruel jerk. His treatment of her had gotten progressively worse. He wanted her in his bed, but the rest of the time he was just angry. Everything about her seemed to piss him off. And when he got rough with her in bed as well, she knew it was past time to get out of the relationship.

  She looked him in the eyes. “You need to listen to what I’m saying, and you need to hear me…”

  Eve gasped and grabbed for the door, squeezing her eyes closed as noise flooded her mind.

  Stupid bitch. She should be grateful I put up with her fat ass.

  Eve’s eyes shot open. “What did you just say?”

  Eric frowned. “Not a damn thing. You were about to lie to me, and yourself, about ending our relationship.” His eyes dropped to her chest again and he licked his lips.

  God, I want to bury my face between those massive jugs.

  She was hearing him, his voice, clear as day, but his mouth was shut. Shit, she really was losing her mind. Over the last four weeks she’d had…attacks. That’s what she’d been calling them. Words whispered in her mind, thoughts that she knew weren’t her own, flying though her head.

  Maybe I’ll get her on a diet. She’d be so much prettier if she lost ten pounds.

  She clutched the side of her head, pain pounding through her skull.

  “What the hell’s is wrong with you?” Eric said, taking a step closer.

  Yeah, she’s fat, but I don’t need to take her out in public, as long as I get to keep fucking her. God, I want to wrap my hands around her throat, choke her while I do it, slap her, watch her cry while I pound into her.

  “Stay back,” she gasped.

  He kept coming. “I don’t know why you’re resisting this.”

  Eve shook her head, unable to get her mouth to work. More jumbled thoughts sliced through her mind, words, a voice that wasn’t her own.

  He ran a hand over his blond hair, gaze raking over her. “God, look at you,” he bit out, mouth twisting. “Do you think there’ll be guys lining up to ask you out?”

  If it wasn’t for those magnificent tits, I probably wouldn’t bother either. I want to hurt her, want to make her scream. Christ, what’s wrong with me? It’s not me. It’s her. She made me feel like this. I was fine until I met her. God, I want to fuck her.

  She jerked back as he reached for her, but she was too late. His hand curled around her wrist and he yanked her forward. She crashed into his chest and his arms came around her, squeezing her tight to him.

  His mouth went to her ear. “You want this, Eve, I know you do. No more playing. No more teasing me.”

  She shoved at him. “Let me the hell go.”

  He didn’t budge, his hold getting tighter. Eve watched as he struggled with his temper for a second then tried to soften his tone when he spoke again. “Come on, baby. You’re overreacting, you realize that, right?” He pressed a wet kiss to her temple. “I know you love pushing my buttons, but you need to stop playing me like this. You’re seriously starting to piss me off. I want you, and I know you want me. I know you do.” His eyes slid back down to her chest.

  Damn, look at those big, soft, round…

  Eve shook her head trying to make the voice stop. The other times this happened it hadn’t been this bad. She was either going mad or, somehow, she was hearing Eric’s sick thoughts.

  He took advantage of her loss of concentration and pushed her against the doorframe. It dug into her back and she cried out.

  “Please go,” she whispered.

  He shook his head. “I can’t…I can’t walk away. You’re mine…”

  A deep sound rolled across her yard, building in volume.

  They both stilled, staring into the darkness.

  A low, vicious growl came next, so loud it lifted the hair on the back of Eve’s neck.

  Eric stumbled back a step and Eve took advantage, shoving him away and slamming the door shut. Eric started pounding on it again.

  She grabbed for her phone, about to call the police, when his yelling and knocking was cut off abruptly.

  Pulling back the curtain, she peered out into the darkness. Her porch light lit up some of the front yard and she gasped when she saw a huge shadow move away from the light, melting with the darkened edge of the garden.

  Oh God, had Eric been attacked by something? An animal?

  The sound of his car starting reached her, followed by it speeding off a few moments later.

  Eve released the breath she’d been holding, dropped the curtain, and threw the deadbolt.

  If there was some kind of predator out there, she hoped like hell it had gone.

  Chapter 2

  Lazarus scowled. He hated these little towns. True, they made his job easier with fewer witnesses and a hell of a lot less ground to cover. But today he could have been anywhere. It wouldn’t have made a difference. He could have located who he’d come for blindfolded.

  Despite his distaste for places like this, a day ago the tiny West Coast town might have offered a much-needed change of pace, with its sea breezes and trees and flowers and shit.

  But not now. Not today.

  The building in front of him was small and sickeningly cheerful. A shock of color beside its more sedate neighbors. He shook his head. Jesus, the place looked like Rainbow Brite threw up all over it. The chill wind picked up, whipping through his hair, stinging his skin, and sent russet-colored leaves tumbling from the trees and spiraling past the shop’s sunny yellow door. A door he couldn’t seem to go through no matter how long he stood there.

  The warring sides of his DNA had never felt more at odds than they did in that moment, which was saying something after everything that had gone down recently. His angel half wanted to protect, do what was expected—do the right thing. But his demon half—well, the demon wanted something else entirely. It screamed louder, fought harder to get free. Jesus, his skin itched with the need to shift into his Kishi demon form.

  That scared the shit out of him. He couldn’t loosen his stranglehold on the dark fucker writhing inside him, not when he was so close to possessing the key to his salvation and the only way he could win that war.

  And she had no idea. No idea who she was or what she was.

  Now the only things that stood between him and his mate were wood, glass, and a few cracked feet of pavement.

  His gut churned and he clenched his fists against the little zaps of electricity that continued to shoot through him. Shit.

  He’d only gotten a glimpse of her last night at her door, and then that human male had put his hands on her, had hurt her, and Lazarus had seen red. The growl that had left him, shit, that had been torn from him, had surprised him more than anyone. But he hadn’t been able to hold it back.

  He grunted. He hadn’t meant to go after the fucker or knock him out. Breaking his nose definitely hadn’t been on the night’s agenda. Lazarus had been forced to drive the weasel home then wait for him to wake up so he could scrub his memory. The whole thing had messed with his plans, but after the scare that female had, knocking on her door right after all that drama and introducing himself probably wouldn’t have been a great idea. Instead, he’d gone back and watched her place until morning. He’d let her enjoy the last night she’d spend in her house.

  In her life.

  A seabird squawked overhead, jarring him from his thoughts. The breeze increased its efforts, tugging at his shirt. God, he hated this. Hated that he was about to shatter the fantasy this female had been living.

  Yeah, she’d pulled the short straw, because he was here to smash that illusion into a thousand tiny pieces.

  He caught a brief glimpse of dark hair and bright pink clothing through the window, then she was gone, his view obscured by a large bookshelf. Anot
her wave of volatile energy washed over him and he gritted his teeth. She didn’t have the ability to block all that untamed energy she was sending out, and the female’s newly acquired power hammered against his defenses. Calling to him. The strength of it still shocked him. Its effects caused pins and needles to lift the hairs on his arms, sending power arcing through his nerve endings and tingling across the surface of his skin.

  At least now he could stay upright. He was adjusting to her presence quickly, and thank fuck for that. He may heal quickly, but that knife to the gut still hurt like a bitch.

  He couldn’t wait any longer. It was time to make a move, but his feet felt rooted to the pavement. He’d stood there like a damned statue for too long already and some of the yokels had stopped to stare, taking an obvious interest in him. Dammit, he couldn’t screw this up. Schooling his features, he ran a hand over his hair, and before he could change his mind, gripped the handle and pushed open the door.

  The tinkle of a little bell announced his entrance into The Book Worm. The place was small and warmly lit. Paperbacks covered every available surface. They lined the walls and filled the overflowing bookcases that crowded the limited floor space.

  Books were this female’s passion and her love for this place was stamped in every corner of the room. From the mismatched bookshelves painted in bright, cheerful colors to the striped overstuffed couch in the corner and the chunky antique counter with its equally ancient, carefully restored cash register perched on top.

  Everything about this room screamed soft, feminine…delicate. He looked down at his worn leather jacket, scuffed boots, and battle-scarred hands. What did he know about soft and feminine? As for delicate, he was more a bull-in-china-shop kind of male. His stomach did another lurch and he wanted to growl his frustration. Shit, if he had any other choice he would turn around and walk back out that door.

  There were few things he had been certain about in his long life, but when it came to this female, a female who had created her own little piece of heaven—a place of calm, of solace, of joy within these four walls—he knew a few things with one hundred percent unwavering certainty.

  He didn’t deserve her. He could never give her what she needed. And in the end, he would hurt her.

  But despite all that, he would continue on this course regardless.

  He had to. There were bigger things at stake than injuring this female’s feeling.

  Moving farther into the room, he sidestepped the shelf blocking his path. Though he couldn’t see her, it wasn’t necessary to search for her. He knew exactly where she was. He glanced up, and halfway up a ladder, his demi-demon busily transferred a stack of books from the uppermost step to one of the higher shelves. Her position, slightly bent forward, caused the pink dress she wore to cling to her curves and highlighted a soft, voluptuous figure.

  It was rare for the weaker human genes of their mothers to be dominant. More often than not, the hybrids favored the sturdy physical build of their demon sires.

  But this female’s figure was all human.

  “I won’t be a minute,” she called over her shoulder and started to climb down.

  He cursed under his breath when, with each tentative step she took, the fabric pulled taut over her rounded hips and ass.

  He couldn’t tear his eyes away, and before he realized what he was doing he’d taken several steps in her direction.

  Slamming on the brakes, he barely resisted the urge to go up the damn ladder after her. As she got closer, he had to jam his hands in his pockets so he didn’t do something stupid like reach for her. He hadn’t believed it, but there was no denying it now. The physical connection was as strong as he’d been told it would be.

  She stepped onto the floor, straightened her dress, and turned to face him with a welcoming smile curving her dark pink full lips. “Oh…sorry!” She took a startled step back.

  Not surprising considering he was damn near on top of her. Lazarus sucked in a sharp breath, locked his knees, and fought the blow that followed. No fucking way was he falling on his ass in front of this female.

  She was attractive—Christ, beautiful—but what had him damn near hypnotized were her startling pale blue eyes. They held him immobile, called to a part of him he never knew existed, a soul-deep connection he never thought he’d find. Had never wanted to find, and would have been more than happy to leave buried.

  The drag on his already deteriorating control escalated, and he had to force his lungs to get back to the whole oxygen in, carbon dioxide out routine. A meet-cute had never been on the cards, but swooning at her feet wasn’t what he’d envisioned either.

  The off-balance sensation persisted and he struggled, and failed, to restore his equilibrium. Probably because all the blood had evacuated his head and taken up residence in his now aching groin.

  When a demi’s powers reached their peak, his kind were alerted by way of a kind of internal alarm. If it hadn’t knocked him on his ass, the fact he was the only one able to sense her would have told him exactly who she was.

  Lying on that parking garage floor, he’d only felt dread. And whatever he’d imagined he’d feel coming face-to-face with her for the first time—it wasn’t this, this almost violent flood of emotion.

  Because he knew her.

  It was base and primal and fucked up, but he knew her.

  He curled his fingers into a fist. He felt torn in two, couldn’t decide if he wanted to fall at her feet and worship her like some pathetic, groveling fool, or turn around and run like a pack of hellhounds wanted a chunk out of his ass.

  All he knew for sure in that moment was he fucking hated it, this sudden loss of self-possession. He’d rather face an army of Orthon demons than the woman standing in front of him and what she represented.

  Like a besotted idiot, he watched, captivated, as her tongue darted out to lick her lower lip then bite down on the plump flesh. He lifted his gaze, and soft pools of blue stared back, round and questioning. Right then, the only thought he could summon was how badly he wanted to taste her.

  He took an abrupt step back, man enough to admit that the curvy little demi standing in front of him scared the living shit out of him. Mind sluggish and tongue refusing to work, he stood there, gawking like a damned idiot. The silence had stretched on and her cheeks were now pink.

  Her gaze darted toward the closed door then back. “So…was there a specific book you were after? I have a pretty wide selection here.”

  His stomach clenched at the sound of her sweet, slightly husky voice, and with a great deal of effort, he kept his gaze fixed straight ahead instead of wandering lower. He flexed his fingers, positive he could already feel those lush curves she had in abundance, that he could feel their soft warmth under his palms. Scowling, he attempted to shake off his messed-up reaction to the female blinking owlishly up at him.

  Words would be a great idea about now, dipshit.

  “Perhaps if you tell me what type of books you usually read?” She tried again, but this time her smile faltered and she tugged on the front of her dress several times before crossing her arms over her ample breasts.

  Great, he was freaking her out.

  “I, ah…I don’t read much,” he forced out.

  She jerked back and hugged her arms tighter around her waist. Dammit, he should have kept his mouth shut.

  Now he’d startled her, but considering he’d just growled the words at her, he wasn’t surprised by her reaction. What the fuck was up with his voice? He sounded like he was gargling nails.

  Afraid the skittish female was about to run, he attempted what he hoped was a reassuring smile. It felt awkward and wooden on his face, and going by the way her eyes widened in alarm, the pearly white bit wasn’t conveying trust me I’m one of the good guys but instead all the better to eat you with, my dear.

  He needed her to trust him, but it wasn’t hard to figure out the mute pervert approach wasn’t the way to go.

  With no other option, and before she bolted for the do
or, he sent a gentle rush of power to her. It was designed to create calm, to wash away the fear he saw in her eyes, and make this whole shit show a lot easier on both of them. It also gave off a pleasant scent, because good things smelled nice, and bad things smelled like shit, right? He guessed that was the theory behind it.

  But before he had a chance to recite the speech he’d memorized, the bell jingled above the door and an elderly woman walked in. She glanced at them briefly before making her way to one of the shelves in the autobiographies section.

  His demi released a relieved breath, happy she was no longer alone with him. “Good morning, Mrs. Jensen,” she called to the other woman.

  Tongue-tied, confused, and without doubt fucking up badly, he forced his brain back into gear. His kind searched their entire lives for what stood within his grasp. Yeah, he wanted it like a bullet to the back of the head. But there was no alternative for him, for either of them. So, clearing his throat several times in an attempt to loosen his damn vocal cords, he tried again. “I need to speak to—”

  “Excuse me?”

  Dammit.

  She turned to face the old woman. Lazarus scowled. He hadn’t even heard her approach, so fixed on the female in front of him.

  “How can I help you today, Mrs. Jensen?”

  The woman didn’t reply, and his demi’s smile faded as she rubbed at the goose bumps that broke out across her arms. A chill blasted Lazarus, its bite enough to break him free of the hold she had on him. The hair at his nape prickled right before the unmistakable odor of sulfur surrounded him, heavy and cloying like toxic gas. The old woman’s eyes flashed to a colorless milky white, and hissing, she lunged, grabbing for the female at his side.

  Wrenching her out of the way, he planted his boot in the creature’s chest and sent the Orthon sprawling. The savage breed of demon was relentless and wouldn’t stop until it had captured or killed its target.

  The demon staggered to its feet, gaze darting between him and his target. Before it had time to make its next move, Lazarus ran at it. The form it had taken was heavyset and slow, and instead of trying to escape, it struck out. Lazarus dodged the blow and returned it with a strike to the creature’s throat then swept the fucker’s feet out from underneath it. Before it could get vertical, he pulled his blade free, grabbed a handful of its soft gray hair, and removed the demon’s head with one brutal slice.