Demon Hunting In the Deep South (35 page)

“Because she helped me tonight, a woman she didn’t know. You were there. You saw her. She got between me and that
thing.
If she’s so horrible and evil, why’d she do that?”

“I have thought on this,” Conall said slowly. “Methinks she is in concert with the djegrali and hopes to lure us into complacency with her beauty and semblance of goodness.”

“Or maybe she’s exactly what she seems to be,” she retorted. “Wouldn’t that surprise you?”

“The entire evening has been something of a surprise,” Conall said. His brooding gaze moved to the bar. “Quite . . . unexpected.”

“Yes, sir,” Ansgar said. “If you recall, I stated in my report that Hannah is out of the ordinary.”

“Yes, your report was most thorough,” Conall said.

“But what about Beck?” Evie persisted.

Conall’s dark brows lifted. “What about her?”

“Promise me you won’t hurt her.”

“You are impertinent.” Conall’s voice was cold. “I give orders. I do not take them.”

“I know, but I want you to promise me anyway.”

“Evangeline.” Ansgar hooked his arm around her and pulled her close. “You must excuse her. It has been a trying night.”

“Yes, it has.” Conall’s gaze moved once more to the bar. “She has fire and courage, but she is also impetuous and lacks discipline. She needs training.” Was he talking about her or Beck? Evie wondered. He seemed to recall himself. He looked at Evie, his expression unreadable. “Since you admitted in your report that you are responsible for this female’s . . . er . . . condition, I assign you the task.”

“I accept and most gladly,” Ansgar said.

Something like amusement glinted in Conall’s black eyes. “Somehow, I did not think you would refuse. But I am curious. How do you mean to proceed?”

“After giving the matter much thought, I have decided to marry the chit, sir, and spend the next few thousand years instructing her in the way of the Dalvahni.” Ansgar’s white teeth flashed in a grin. “Among other things.”

“Marry me?” Evie said. “Now wait just a minute. You and I haven’t—”

Conall turned his back to them, and the shadows settled deeper around him. “Carry on then.”

Ansgar wrapped his arms around her and the pier fell away.

Chapter Thirty-five

P
ine needles crunched beneath Evie’s feet, and she heard the musical song of tumbling water. She looked around. They were in the woods, the same place Ansgar had taken her the day before, a secluded grotto of trees and moss-covered hills on a quiet finger of the Devil River. The moon peeked at them through the tree branches. A feathery waterfall spilled over a rocky cliff and into the shallow pool below. It was a lovely place, peaceful and serene.

Evie didn’t feel peaceful or serene. She was racked by tremors, little shivers of hot and cold. Shock, adrenaline, anger, grief, and terror—too many emotions in one night. She could now add surprise to the list. Ansgar’s announcement had gobsmacked her. He wanted to
marry her
? The thought was elating and terrifying. He’d declared his intention in typical alpha male fashion without asking her, she thought indignantly. Like it was a done deal, the arrogant, wonderful jerk, and maybe it was—or would be if she didn’t have a murder charge hanging over her head.

“What about Beck?” she asked, latching on to a safer topic. “I’m worried about her. I don’t trust your precious Conall.”

It was true. She was worried about Beck, and Conall was darkness itself. Who knew what he might do in their absence?

Ansgar closed the space between them. Tension radiated from his big body and an aura of suppressed violence. She wasn’t the only one upset, she realized.

“You should be worried for yourself,” he said. “You are the one in danger, not Beck.”

Yanking her into his arms, he kissed her. Claimed her, like the Viking warlord he resembled, Evie thought, dizzy from his sensuous onslaught. The kiss was hot and needy, a possession that ravaged her mouth and assailed her senses. Murmuring her name, he dragged his hot, open mouth down the tender skin of her throat. Nibbled at her with his lips and tasted her with his tongue, like he couldn’t get enough of her. Sensation poured through her and a raging desire that left her trembling and weak. Her breasts tingled, and the place between her legs ached. She was on fire.

“I need you,” he said, his voice rough with strain. “Gods, the torture you have put me through, imagining you hurt or . . .” He shuddered and gave her an angry little shake. “Why did you leave me like that when you know you are in danger? You have seen the djegrali with your own eyes. Have you no care for your safety?” His grip on her shoulders tightened. “Do you have any idea how many taverns I tracked you to tonight? Ever one step behind you . . . ever with the foul stench of the djegrali in my nostrils and the taste of death in my mouth. Wondering, always wondering, if I would reach you in time, before . . .” His jaw tightened. “No, I cannot say it. I cannot think on it or I will go mad.”

She tore herself free and stepped back, panting. Her skin burned and her brain buzzed. She couldn’t think right now. She could only
feel.

“Then don’t say it,” she said. “Don’t think about it. Take off your clothes.”

“What?” He stared at her, his eyes glowing silver in the moonlight.

“Take. Off. Your. Clothes.”

“We need to talk. You need to understand that—”

“Later,” she said, kicking off her sandals. “Right now, we need to have sex, before I have a come-apart.”

She quickly stripped down to her undergarments. The panties and bra she wore were new and sexy, part of the wardrobe from the guest bedroom closet. And they actually
matched
. The bra gave her miles of cleavage, and the panties were especially risqué, a couple of strips of lace and little else. She felt red hot and daring, with “red hot” being the operative term. She wanted Ansgar something fierce.

But he didn’t move, just stood there staring at her, his eyes glowing hotter. She frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that? Is something wrong?”

“No. Nothing is wrong. Everything is perfect. You are perfect. Turn around.”

Her stomach fluttered. The look in his eyes left her breathless and dialed up the heat a few thousand degrees. It was a wonder she didn’t burst into flame. She turned her back to him, giving him a view of her backside in the skimpy panties. He muttered something, his liquid voice harsh with need, and then he was there, behind her, his hands rough and hot, cupping her breasts, stroking and plucking her nipples through the fabric of her bra, making her hotter with every touch. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. She wasn’t in this crazy thing alone.

Thank God.

He unhooked her bra, and it slipped down her arms and fell to the ground. Her breasts felt heavy and full. His hands rested lightly at her waist. What was he waiting for? She wanted to scream at him to touch her again and not stop. She’d never wanted anything so much. She held her breath as his hands slid from her waist and back to her breasts. Ah, she thought, arching her back as his thumbs moved back and forth over her tight nipples. The cool air and the heat of his skin were sweet torture. Murmuring her name, he kissed the slope of her shoulder, nipped her, and then eased the sore spot with the flat of his tongue. Everything in her tightened until she thought she would shatter.

Turning in his arms, she pulled his head down and kissed him, memorizing the taste and shape of his beautiful, serious, sensuous mouth, suckling his tongue. She was starved for him, too. With a groan, he grabbed her bottom and tugged her against the hard length of his erection. She rubbed against him, wanting him inside her, hard and thick. When she was with him, everything else went away, everything but her need for him. One look, one touch from him, could undo her completely.

She tore her mouth free. “You’re still dressed,” she muttered, pushing at the leather vest he wore. “Why are you still dressed?”

“Let me,” he said, stilling her restless hands. “ ’Twill be faster.”

He shrugged out of the vest and pulled the linen shirt over his head.

“Oh, my,” Evie breathed, dazed anew by the animal strength and beauty of him. He was all gleaming skin and hard muscle; bulging shoulders and arms, and a wide chest that dipped down to a narrow waist and ripped abdomen. “You are ridiculous.”

“Not the reaction a warrior hopes for.”

“Ridiculously
gorgeous,
as if you didn’t know it.”

“If I please you, then I am glad,” he said in his haughty way. But she heard the ripple of laughter in his deep voice.

“Oh, yes.” Evie’s gaze lingered on his slablike pecs. “You please me very much. Any more pleased and I might die of it.”

Reaching out, she traced the line of golden hair that ran down the middle of his belly and disappeared into the top of his leather breeches. She fumbled with the ties at his waist, and his erection sprang free. “Beautiful,” she whispered, stroking him.

“Evangeline,” he said. His voice sounded husky. “I have very little control at the moment. When you say things like that, I—”

“I want to taste you,” she said impatiently. “I want you to taste me. I want everything.” She stepped out of her panties and rubbed her breasts against his chest. She hardly recognized the wild creature she’d become. She shuddered at the delight of skin-to-skin contact with him, breathing in his heady scent, sweat mixed with cedar and bergamot. “But, right now, I want you inside me.”

Somehow, they were on the ground and she was on top of him, straddling him. His leather breeches were open and shoved down around his hips. He took her by the waist and lowered her onto his rigid shaft. She gasped at the pleasure-pain of it. That part of him was big like the rest of him, beautiful and magnificent, but almost too much.

“Easy,” he murmured, stroking her breasts. “Lean forward. Let me help you.”

She was frantic now with wanting him inside her, but she did as he said, squirming as he took her nipple in his mouth.

“Ansgar,” she cried. “I—”

“Shh,” he said, suckling and teasing. “No talking. Relax and ride me.”

Grasping her thighs, he rose up, impaling her fully. She took him in, all of him, reveling at the miraculous sensation of being joined, at how they fit together like the missing pieces of a puzzle, body-to-body and soul-to-soul. What a clever fellow God was to design them this way. How humbling, how splendid and glorious.

She rose up and came back down again. The pressure and slide were exquisite, pushing her closer to release. Ansgar bucked beneath her, urging her on with rough words of encouragement and entreaty, his beautiful features sharp with passion. She flung her head back and gave herself to him.

The waves of pleasure built. Without warning, she plunged over the edge, shivering around him. With a hoarse shout, Ansgar tumbled headlong after her.

Evie opened her eyes. She felt relaxed and sated. Ansgar held her in his arms, and he was walking, carrying her. He was so strong, she thought, smiling to herself. He made her feel dainty and feminine . . . and safe and sexy and a dozen other things that were just plain wonderful.

“Hmm.” She buried her face against his chest and breathed him in. “You smell so good. Where are we going?”

“For a swim.”

“What?”
She struggled in his grasp. Not that it did much good. His arms were like iron bands. “It’s October. The water’s too cold!”

“Too cold? The days are still balmy, and the first frost has yet to rime the ground.” He reached the water and waded in. “The water will be quite pleasant.”

“I’m Southern. I’ve got thin blood. I’ll catch my death.”

“You are Dalvahni now. We do not get sick, and cold and heat seldom affect us.”

“I don’t care.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on. “You’re not putting me in that water, Ansgar. No way.
I mean it.
I—”

She shrieked as he stepped under the waterfall, dousing them both.

“Oh,” she said, gasping and sputtering as the chilly water pummeled her face and body. “I cannot believe you did that. That was not nice of you. Not nice at all.”

“I think we have already established that I am not nice.”

He carried her away from the waterfall and into the rocky pool on one side of the cascade. The water wasn’t deep—barely waist high on him—and felt quite wonderful now that she was used to it.

Ansgar felt wonderful, too, with his hard chest pressed against her naked breasts. Not that she would admit it to
him,
of course.

“What about snakes?” she asked.

“No snakes,” he said. Setting her down on a rocky ledge, he stepped between her thighs. Her eyes widened as she felt the head of his shaft nudge the cleft between her legs. “Not of the reptilian variety, at any rate.”

“You’re naked!”

“How clever of you to notice. I undressed while you slept.”

“I slept?” How embarrassing. Wasn’t it usually the guy who passed out after sex? The last thing she remembered was . . . She blushed, remembering how she’d lost herself in his arms. “Uh . . . how long was I out?”

“Quite some time. Mayhap it was the aftereffect of the burn.”

“What burn? What are you talking about?”

“Twice tonight, you used your powers,” he said. “Once when you became agitated and released that deluge in the ball-room—”

She bristled. “I was not agitated. I was plain old
mad,
mad at Addy and Muddy and
everybody.
Most of all, I was furious with
you
because you left me. And because you were with that thrall—”

“—and again in the tavern when the demons attacked,” he continued in his maddeningly controlled way. “Overpowering sexual desire is a natural result of danger and battle adrenaline, combined with the rush of releasing your powers.”

“Wait,” Evie said. “You’re saying that
I
was responsible for that green bubble thing in the bar tonight? How could I do something like that? I don’t understand.”

“It seems a small thing in comparison to the maelstrom you released at the dance. Why do you seem surprised? I, for one, am grateful for your ability. I do not like to think what might have happened otherwise.”