Dark Desires After Dusk (Immortals After Dark #6)(83)

Cade asked, “What do you have?”

“Not a lot. It’s like they’re being tipped off, every time we get close to Néomi.”

The deadline was drawing near. With every night that his crew couldn’t find the vampire’s Bride, Cade’s hopes dwindled. Should he keep his crew scouring the city?

Or begin planning his riskiest idea ever: an assault on a sorcerer’s fortress.

“We’ll give it seven more nights.”

*

“I’m . . . happy?” Holly said aloud, with a frown. Yes, for the last week at the cabin, that’s what she’d been feeling. Contentment.

As she straightened up, waiting for her computer to charge in the car, she found it hard to concentrate on cleaning. That’s a first.

And she might even be more than merely happy.

Holly’s parents had had that kind of love so rare that one only read about it. Maybe it happened more often than Holly thought.

Maybe it’s happening . . . to me.

Her demon had only been gone an hour—he was out ice fishing—and already she missed him, missed his booming voice and heavy footsteps. She craved his addictive scent—cold and pine and Cadeon.

Earlier, he’d said, “If I go through the trouble of catching, cleaning, and cooking fish, then you will go through the trouble of eating it.”

For him, she was going to . . . try.

The last week with him had been incredible. She regularly experienced what a day was like broken up with bouts of sex. In fact, Cadeon did just find her wherever she was and take her.

He was insatiable. Even in sleep he grew aroused. His erection would stiffen against her backside, and as he softly growled in her ear, he’d rock it against her.

She’d woken him more than once for a good seeing to, which clearly delighted him to no end.

The strangest thing about sex—she didn’t have any bizarre quirks with it. This was the one area in her life where she was normal.

Well, if you could call her need to be overpowered by a demon normal.

Cadeon had also continued her training, working with the sword—and with the diamond. She could break her stare three out of ten times, but only if he threatened her computer.

They played hunting games and hide-and-seek. Her night vision was nearly perfect, and she could leap twenty feet into the air with the ease of an afterthought. He’d taught her to rub pine needles over herself to mask her scent, and she’d become so stealthy that she could actually stalk him from the trees.

And she continued her own work, pushing to finish her code so that when this quest was over with, she could do nothing but enjoy her demon.

Only two things marred this time. The first was his secretive calls. Outside, she’d hear him snapping in Demonish, pacing back and forth amidst the spruce trees. Then when he returned, he was always distant with her, taking time to relax again.

The second was his attitude about the future. His full-court press across the country of Canada had . . . cooled.

Even after she’d been claimed, he didn’t speak about the future, evading the subject if she brought it up. At first, she’d had insecurities, wondering if she’d done something to disappoint him or put him off.

But that was ridiculous. They were good together, better people than they were apart.

No, she felt confident that he wanted her as much as she did him.

Puzzling . . .

“Did you miss me, halfling?” he asked from the door.

She ran and leapt into his arms. “Terribly.”

“I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Lemme guess—it’s a fish?”

He nipped the tip of her ear, which always gave her shivers. “Get your gear on and meet me outside. The weather’s nice.”

The surprise was a burlap sack filled with snow, hanging from a limb.

“Gee, Cadeon. I didn’t get you anything.”

“It’s for sword practice.”

She collected his sword with a long-suffering sigh, though she secretly enjoyed this training.

As he cleaned his catch, he instructed her. “Thrust, parry, counterthrust, twisting block, strike. Nice. That’s it, halfling.”

Even in the dry, arctic air, she was working up a sweat. Her sparring was improving. He’d even said that she was better than some warriors he’d faced on the battlefield.

Holly didn’t know if that was true, but she knew she wasn’t laughable anymore.

“Underhanded sword fighting techniques,” he said. “Give me two.”

As she continued working on slashing attacks, she said, “Obscure my enemy’s vision by throwing something like my jacket over his face or sand in his eyes. And second, I could wound my opponent’s advancing leg.”

“Why?”

“To take blood any way I can—because blood equals strength.”

“Very good. Here’s a new one. Sometimes you can take a hit in order to see what your opponent’s got, or to let them think you’re weak,” he continued. “They’ll get overconfident, ’specially with a tiny chit like yourself.”

She nodded.

“Or you can fake an injury. Like dragging your leg to lull a predator. So you give a little to get a lot.”

She froze, her mind whirring. “Oh, my God, that’s it!”