Chapter Two
Stryke zapped the last vestiges of roots and concentrated on his no-longer-secret bond to his vampire. He appeared at Zoey’s location, in his own form thanks to their link, and reacted without thinking.
A Dumpster had plowed into Zoey and was pushing her into a portal. He lunged and tackled her, wrapping his arms around anything he could get ahold of. The Dumpster flew into the portal as he and Zoey rolled clear.
With a snap, the opening shut. Silence descended.
Zoey hung limp in his arms. He glanced around. Four blood spots on the concrete. He sniffed. One prime female, three human males, all demon-possessed.
He glanced at Zoey. She’d killed four hosts and sent four demons back to their realm, but she’d gotten taken out by a Dumpster.
A smile twitched his lips. Just her luck.
Sweet brimstone, he’d missed her. Looked like they were actually going to officially meet. And she was going to hate him for linking himself to her.
Barely healed himself, he managed to stand while cradling her to his chest. Sirens blared in the distance. With one hand, he searched for her keys and found them in her jacket pocket.
He staggered out of the alley. All the businesses were closed this time of night, but people were home in the apartments above the offices. Humans peered out of upper-level windows. Stryke knew what they’d see: a tall, naked man, covered in blood, carrying an unconscious woman. At least his horns were covered by his hair, so he had that going for him.
He opened the SUV and gently laid Zoey inside. He crawled over her and into the driver’s seat instead of going around the outside. She got a face full of his junk, but she was passed out and couldn’t hold it against him. When she came to, she’d have issues with much more than getting squished against his bare body.
He stomped on the gas and sped off, heading for his human host’s house. Lee wasn’t expecting him, but it wouldn’t matter. The kid was at a weak point in his life, which had made him easy to possess in the first place. When Stryke had had to step out of Lee’s body one too many times and the young man had seen him in his true form, Stryke had used the opportunity to order the stunned man to take care of himself. As a result, Lee welcomed Stryke’s interference in his sad, lonely life.
Lee was just one of the many mistakes Stryke had made in his long life. The human was growing too attached, but Stryke just kept dispensing advice. He’d have to sever ties with the human and move onto a host who was less…needy. Despite the bond to Zoey that allowed him to roam this realm in his own form, he’d been using hosts. His real form was too distinct to blend among humans and other demons would know instantly he was bonded to someone in the realm. But Stryke hadn’t considered Lee growing dependent on him. His error.
The unconscious female slumped in the passenger seat was another miscalculation.
She was supposed to have been a pawn. Stryke’s mission was to use her and her mate to gather information. But Stryke hadn’t taken into account how much her mate had loved her, unconditionally.
Stryke had grudgingly compared it to his own dedication to his ill-begotten sire. After the way Stryke had grown up, the big, burly male who’d thrown Stryke a few morsels to keep from starving had commanded Stryke’s utter devotion.
But Stryke’s diluted blood hadn’t sat well with the other twelve when they’d learned Burhn was his sire. Because how could Stryke be a lowly second-tier demon if both parents were pure? Two pure-bloods didn’t make a half-breed.
The rest of the Circle had made his sire pay dearly for the embarrassment before they’d killed him—while Stryke could do nothing but watch.
A stately house approached. Lee’s parents were wealthy and always out of the country, and they left the care of the three-story monstrosity to their boy, who they always left behind. Stryke might order the kid to paint the place. Canary yellow might’ve been in style thirty years ago, but it was atrocious by today’s standards. Stryke’s eyes, used to the dark and dank underworld, throbbed whenever he looked at it. White paint on the trim had long ago peeled away, reflecting the way Lee’s parents had treated their son.
Snow crunched under the car’s tires but wasn’t deep enough to hinder the SUV. Stryke swerved to miss an ornate birdbath and parked behind the shed alongside the trees that surrounded the house.
Stryke jumped out and ran around to gather Zoey into his arms. Cold nipped at his feet. His natural store of energy shrank deep into his body, making the bite on his skin much more acute.
Zoey groaned and Stryke picked up the pace. Jogging to the house, he ran through his plan. Hypna might think she could find Stryke easily enough, but he could wield his energy like no other, including concealing it. But it wasn’t foolproof. She was one of the thirteen and not to be underestimated. While her other second-tier minions would struggle to locate him, she might track him herself.
After she found another prime to host her. Stryke smiled grimly to himself. Hypna was probably throwing the world’s biggest tantrum in the underworld at being bested by Zoey. Had the demoness discovered he’d escaped his bonds yet? The roots hadn’t been easy to wrestle out of, but focusing his energy like a laser searing through his skin, he’d burned through them. How’d the Circle think his dad had gotten his name?
A light on the back porch flicked on and Lee peeked out the window, his avid gaze more appropriate for a five-year-old than for a twenty-one-year-old. When Lee’s gaze landed on Stryke and his female load, he whipped the door open.
Excitement and curiosity flooded Lee’s expression. “What can I do?”
Stryke’s corrupted heart sank. The kid liked to be useful, needed. Human hosts didn’t have the best survival rate and Stryke’s guilt ratcheted a little higher every time he used the boy. Even with his bond outed by Hypna, a ready host would be handy, but the more he used Lee, the harder it was to think of Lee getting hurt. He’d have to cut the kid loose.
“Get my bag.” Stryke stepped in with Zoey and beelined straight to a main-level guest room.
The room, like the house, was stuck in the past. Faded, floral curtains hung limply from a rod, and the matching bedspread wasn’t in any better shape. The carpet wasn’t shag, but pink wasn’t a good color no matter the decade in Stryke’s opinion.
He laid Zoey on the bed. The lump on her head was already going down and she’d wake soon.
Lee dashed into the room and threw the black bag at Stryke. Stryke appreciated the hustle and it was probably the most activity Lee had gotten all day.
No, that was no longer correct. Lee’s ashen skin had taken on a healthier glow. It wasn’t yet robust human flesh, but it looked like he actually got off the couch once in a while. Life filled the boy’s eyes like Stryke hadn’t seen unless he was possessing him and looking in a mirror.
Humans didn’t often surprise him, but this one had. When Stryke had first sensed Lee’s weak will, his only thought had been “Bingo!” A rich human whose family didn’t give a shit about him, who didn’t hold down a job, but who had a house and vehicle for him to use? Hell, yes.
But once he’d manipulated Lee’s energy so he could gain access without the boy’s acquiescence, he’d been staggered by the boy’s inner pain. Lee was lumpy and frumpy and he hated himself more than even demons hated…everything.
The first time Stryke had to step out of him and use his own form to help Fyra, Lee hadn’t been horrified. Confused, awed, but not scared. Every time he’d used Lee as a host after that, the human had oozed feelings of usefulness and willingness.
Between possessions, Stryke had maybe thrown out a few suggestions for the guy. Move more. Eat less. Wash your clothes.
Lee had taken to the advice as quickly as his metabolism had burned through his first bag of baby carrots.
Guilt about Lee’s safety welled and Stryke stuffed it down. He’d throw his best friend into the fire if it served his needs. And he had, in a way. If he went as far as calling Fyra a friend, then she was his best friend—his only friend. They’d both been Rancor’s servants, but her moxie had endeared her to Stryke long before she’d straight-up betrayed Rancor, then killed him. To be fair, he’d also thrown Fyra a lifeline after he’d turned her over to a furious Rancor. And she hadn’t died, had she? Her big, blond vampire had rushed in to save her and Rancor had never guessed that Stryke was a traitor.
Stryke yanked out his warded cuffs and bound Zoey’s wrists. The cuffs would hold against her superior vampire strength and prevent her from flashing away. Then he stripped her of all her weapons lest they get used against him or Lee. On one of Stryke’s last visits, he’d warded Lee’s house against vampires flashing in and out and against as much demon interaction as possible. But the Circle never shared all of their secrets, so he wasn’t filled with confidence. Demons were like lawyers—masters of loopholes.
Zoey squirmed and moaned.
“Leave us,” Stryke ordered and Lee scurried out, closing the door behind him.
He straightened over Zoey and waited. Her lovely brown eyes blinked open. They were glassier than he’d expected and the fatigue radiating off her concerned him. She’d gone head-to-head with a giant metal bin, but she was a prime female, the strongest of their kind. Although in the last few decades, Stryke had started equating prime with rich. Primes were predominantly old vampire families who lorded their power and money over the rest of their kind.
So why the long recovery?
Her gaze landed on him and swept over his body. Her eyes briefly widened and dammit, he hadn’t had time to dress. Then she narrowed her eyes on his face and inhaled.
“Demon.” Her voice was hard, but it sent shivers up and down his spine.
“Zohana.” He used her full name. Mitchell always had, but to Stryke, Zoey fit her so much better.
Her jaw clenched, and she tried sitting up but collapsed back. A string of curses left her when she spied the cuffs on her wrists. “You bastard.”
Stryke sat on the bed next to her and palpated up and down her torso. “Why are you not healed?”
His hands were on her. The bond within him sighed at her proximity. What’d she feel?
She gasped and tried to wriggle free. Her pupils dilated briefly, but her anger won over. “Don’t touch me.”
Ah, she wasn’t unaffected either. He couldn’t help his chuckle.
She went still. “You’re crazy.”
She tried to hide her panting, but her lips parted. Why was she breathing hard?
His worry climbed another notch. It wasn’t a reaction to him, but because of her health. “Why are you so drawn?”
Her mouth snapped shut and her nostrils flared. She kicked at him, but he easily batted her leg away. It landed with a thump.
He gripped her chin in his hand. “Why? Tell me.”
***
Zoey trembled. How humiliating, to be weak and fragile in front of a virile, devastating… demon.
Demons should not look this good. Or smell this divine. Was he covered in his own blood? Shouldn’t that be a turnoff? And how had she gotten here?
Where was here? She gave up exerting the effort to control her shivers. The seizures would start soon and she’d be completely at his mercy.
But she already had been and she was out of the alley and tucked away in a… Gawd, this place was unreal. It actually looked like Betty’s room in the compound. Demetrius’s aged assistant had scattered obsessions from various centuries, but the last one enamored her the most.
Zoey struggled to keep her eyes open. Always so tired when she let it go this far.
If the demon had something nefarious in store—and duh, demon—then she wasn’t any worse off making her request.
“Gatorade,” she mumbled. “My backpack.” Her eyelids weighed heavy. His ruggedly handsome face scrunched in confusion at her request.
“What’s with you and the Gatorade?” He pushed off the bed and strode to the door.
And she did not fight to keep her eyes open to watch his firm buttocks clench with each step.
He jerked open the door. “Lee. Get the backpack out of the SUV.”
She didn’t hear a reply but sensed movement outside of the room.
Her stomach roiled. She hated wasting energy on nausea, afraid she’d urp her brilliantly colored drink all over. The rest of the world dimmed around her. She closed her eyes only to flutter them again as she was jostled against a warm, hard body.
Instead of struggling, she curled into him shamelessly. It was like he had a well of energy that was inviting her to tap into it.
If she did, would it be as invigorating as a month ago? Another time she’d been unconscious and an anonymous rescuer had given her his blood. Blood so powerful, so full of…everything, Zoey hadn’t needed an electrolyte drink for days.
From her team’s report, Zoey had determined who’d saved her then.
This couldn’t be…
A bottle was shoved to her mouth and cool, berry-flavored liquid spilled over her tongue. She swallowed and sucked down more, repeating the process until the demon tipped it to give her every last drop.
Energy slowly flooded back into her system, and she shifted until she could shove herself away from him.
Hellfire, those eyes of his were exotic, intoxicating. Violet with flecks of black, they tracked her movements. She tried flashing away and no big surprise, she couldn’t.
“Who are you?” Strength had returned to her voice, but sheer will kept it from wobbling.
It was like every cell in her body wanted at him, to plaster herself full-length against his bare skin after she shredded every last thread of her clothing.
“Stryke.”
Oh. That was easy. She’d expected games, riddles, nonanswers. But he’d admitted exactly who she thought he was.
“Stryke,” she repeated and regretted it. Heat flared in his eyes and his gaze grew impossibly more intense. She glanced around, again absorbing her environment. “Why?”
She couldn’t be more specific. So many questions and he’d only answer if he wanted to.
“To save you,” his full lips quirked, “but you’d taken care of the situation for the most part.”
She’d been getting sucked into the underworld. Yet she was still in her realm. And he was nude. Think beyond her hormones! Nude… He’d come straight from the underworld. He didn’t need a host to stay in this realm. Someone anchored him here. Who?
Perhaps if she discovered why she’d been jumped tonight, she’d have her answers.
“Why did they attack me?”
“Because you and I are connected.”
She sputtered a laugh and beckoned for her backpack. Her brows lifted as he snagged another bottle and handed it to her, like he knew exactly what she needed and wanted to help. She cradled her juice between both hands like a child, since she couldn’t separate them.
A glint of humor mixed with confusion in his eyes. “How about we exchange information. You tell me why the juice, and I’ll tell you why Hypna wants you dead.”
Zoey had been correct. It was Hypna targeting her specifically.
How badly did Zoey need to know why? She hadn’t told anyone about her condition, not even Mitchell. Not that he would have thought any less of her, but she hadn’t wanted to feel like less in his eyes. She’d already chosen a path that had pitted her against most other prime families, and Mitchell had followed her—and died for it. Since she’d been a girl, the way primes did things had bothered her. Once she’d befriended Demetrius and learned of the atrocities their government had been committing against humans and shifters, even vampires, she’d joined his game of infiltration and deception and had gone undercover to stop the enslavement of and experimentation on shifters.
When she’d met her true mate, she hadn’t been able to back out and pretend blissful mated ignorance. She wouldn’t have made it two months since Mitchell had run in the very crowds she’d worked on undermining. When she’d told Mitchell what upset her about their people and those who ruled them, he’d been concerned, too. As a true mate should. Slowly, she’d revealed more and more until he’d become as deeply undercover as she was with the organization their government had sanctioned to do their dirty work.
And now he was gone. All because of his unwavering devotion to her.
A calloused finger traced the side of her face and she jerked back, spilling blue liquid over her lap.
Stryke dropped his hand. “I feel your sadness.”
“Yeah, I feel your…” Damn, she didn’t have a comeback. Keep your eyes off his privates!
“You can feel anything of mine you’d like.”
She bared her fangs at him and rolled her eyes away. She hadn’t done that since she was a teenager.
He chuckled. “The juice?”
“I’m thirsty.”
“You were close to comatose. I thought your drink was just a habit, but I can see now that you need it. Why?”
“You knew I drank Gatorade?” Her fear spiraled higher, mostly because she forced it to. The thought of him watching her, studying her, made her heart flutter, and not because she was low on sodium.
“I know many things about you, Zoey, and I’d like to share how, but you first.”
She studied him. His wood-fire scent scrambled her brains, but she detected a thread of dishonesty. “You lie.”
He inclined his head. “I did not say you’d like what I had to say. That’s my only hesitation with telling you.”
“Did you…” How was she going to ask? Did you save my ass a month ago? Was that your powerful blood that healed me? Because she’d crawl over glowing-hot coals to get one more drop.
He lifted a dark brow. “Did I what?”
“Were you at the Godet mansion several weeks ago?”
“You’ll have to be more specific. Was I at the Godet mansion when I handed Fyra to Rancor and texted you to tell that big lug to get his ass over and save her? Or was I at the Godet mansion when Hypna was sucking the life out of you in a shattered shower?”
“I was taking care of it,” Zoey grumbled, totally lying and he probably knew it. Morgana had pinned her, and Hypna had gone along for the ride, much to Zoey’s mortification. Morgana had caught her off guard in the bathroom—damn Gatorade ran right through her—and the prime had cornered Zoey, then used Mitchell’s memory to torment her.
“I’m sure you would’ve,” he leaned forward with a wicked smile, “totally died. You’re welcome.”
Zoey scowled at him. Stryke had a playful side that she wanted to explore, not get the hell away from.
Duty. That was a good excuse, though him being a demon was more than enough. Her team had encountered Stryke on their last few missions. And he’d been helpful only enough to fulfill his own needs.
Her phone started vibrating. She awkwardly reached for it in her back pocket, but her hands were bound. Stryke snaked an arm around her and withdrew it.
His smoky scent crowded her, and the wall of his bare skin sucked the breath out of her lungs.
“You so need to get dressed,” she hissed.
Another low chuckle rumbled through his chest. He was sitting so close the vibrations danced through her. He checked her screen. “You’re late for a meeting. The Synod?”
It wasn’t a secret that she sat on the board that ruled her kind, as well as shifters and hybrids. But Stryke seemed to know about all aspects of her life. It should set off alarm bells, make her cringe with dread, not fill her with a warm glow that’d been missing since Mitchell had perished.
“I imagine Demetrius will come looking for you, since he’s your boss and likely sitting in on the same meeting.” Stryke frowned and stared at her phone. “I suppose I must tell you how we’re connected or he’ll keep trying to interfere with your safety.”
“I’m better off with my team than in an eighties-reject room with you.”
Stryke glanced around the room. “Ah, that’s the decade this place is stuck in.”
She recalled he’d ordered someone to get her pack. “Who else is here?”
“His name is Lee and he’s human. And I’d be very upset if you held his ability to host me against him. He didn’t have a choice.”
“They always have a choice.”
A knowing gleam brightened his unique eyes. “No, not always. Haven’t you wondered how I can be in your realm in my own form? Hasn’t Fyra explained how it works? I assumed you’d know, since she was able to go on the run in this realm after she bonded to Bishop.”
Zoey kept her expression impassive instead of chagrined. The question had briefly crossed her mind. She’d been too busy trying to determine how she’d ended up in a badly outdated home. And ogling his true form.
“Now, about Demetrius,” he continued. “I want to talk to him with you, and I’ll tell him the same thing I’m going to tell you.” He took a deep breath. “You and I are bonded.”