Wicked Bite (Night Rebel #2)(27)

Damn him for knowing exactly where to strike. Not that I’d made it difficult. No, I’d bared my most vulnerable spot, and like the ruthless fighter Ian was, he’d aimed right for it.

Well, I knew one of his weaknesses, too. “No sex,” I said, opening my eyes. “You stay, you keep your cock to yourself.”

He clasped his hands over the member as if sealing a solemn oath. “Very well. Until you request otherwise—and you will—consider this locked away.”

“That’s not all,” I said, determination blanketing my more fragile emotions. “If my other nature assumes control, you teleport away, because she is dangerous.”

His brows rose. “‘She’ is you, you know.”

“No she’s not, and don’t assume she cares for you like I do, because she doesn’t.”

He parted his lips as if he were going to argue. Then he shrugged. “Very well.”

This was too easy. Ian had to be up to something.

“I also have responsibilities that will require me to leave at a moment’s notice, and no, you can’t come. Agreed?”

“My compliments on your ego,” he replied, grinning. “It’s quite impressive if you thought I’d insist on being chained to your side every moment of the day.”

“Fine,” I said in frustration. “Now that that’s settled, we need to leave. Dagon might not be able to track you through your blood any longer, but he’ll still be searching for you, so we need to get far away, fast.”

Ian stretched his arms while arching his back as if relieving a kink. The movement shifted his torn clothes, revealing his taut abdomen as well as lots of groin cleavage. I looked away, knowing none of this was accidental. When I looked back, a little smile teased his mouth.

No, not accidental at all.

“You might want to change,” I said as if I hadn’t been caught admiring the show. “Being half naked and coated in demon blood is bound to attract the wrong kind of notice.”

“Mmm, yes. Also need to shower so I don’t give Dagon the chance to track me through his people’s blood, if he’s clever enough to think of that—”

Ian stopped talking and tensed. At once, I looked around for danger. “What?”

“Blood is the most common way to trace someone.” Ian spoke as if he were still working something out in his head. “Essence trails are next, if you know a powerful-enough psychic, but both can be blocked. What can’t be blocked is power, and a demon’s power is as unique to them as their blood.”

“It could be,” I said, mulling the possibilities now, too. “But power traces fade quickly. I know where some of Dagon’s power was several nights ago, but I doubt the traces would be concentrated enough for us to use to make a locator spell, assuming I could figure out how to do one that could trace a demon by their power alone,” I added.

“We have a more concentrated dose of his power right here.”

I gave him a confused look. Then I understood.

Ian had absorbed a lot of Dagon’s power when he clawed his way out of the demon. What if I could use what was in Ian’s body to find Dagon? If so, then I could also use it to find the other resurrected souls, too! But . . .

What if Dagon was already tracing them that way? He was far more versed in dark magic than I was, and Dagon had a vested interest in murdering the other resurrected people to recoup the power they’d stolen from him. The demon had also said Dagon had killed the woman in Egypt “and others” for that same reason. How many others?

I’d made a vow to my father, but I couldn’t keep that vow if Dagon murdered the people I was tasked to find. No, I had to find—and stop—Dagon first.

I gave Ian a level look. “I don’t know how to do that kind of spell, but we’re going to have to try anyway.”

His grin was wolfish. “Know an advantage to being married to a law-breaking scoundrel who has friends in all the wrong places? I do know someone who should be able to do that spell.”





Chapter 14


Two days later, Ian drove us to the town limits of Centralia, Pennsylvania. The area seemed innocuous enough, if abandoned and overgrown, but one sniff told me I wouldn’t like whatever Ian had planned next.

“Why does this place reek of demons?”

Ian flashed an unconcerned grin. “Who else would have the power to do the type of spell we’re after?”

“Me, once I figure out how, because no one in their right mind would use demons to trap another demon,” I pointed out.

He gave me a tolerant look. “Not all demons are bad.”

Technically true. Nechtan, a demonic imp I’d first befriended a couple thousand years ago, was a sweet creature who’d been abused by his crueler brethren. But Nechtan was the exception, not the rule.

“Even if you happen to know a non-evil demon here, this town reeks of several demons. Not one.”

“A few live here,” Ian agreed. “Some lower-level demons moved in after humans abandoned the place decades ago, when the coal tunnels beneath it caught fire and couldn’t be put out. But most scorned living in and around a coal mine.”

That, I believed. Demons liked to live large, which wasn’t difficult for a species with supernatural abilities, eons of longevity, and absolutely no morals.