Invision (6 page)

Yet here she stood … unarmed. Defenseless. Her only armor a thin, light yellow flaxen dress that was so thin, he could see the outline of her body whenever the sun passed through it. She didn't even have on a single piece of jewelry she could stab him with.

Nothing.

Even her nails were trimmed to the quick so that she couldn't scratch him. She was as harmless as a little mouse.

A part of him wanted to taste her blood to see if it was as sweet as she smelled. That same part of his soul hated her for daring to stand before him like this—for that innocent trust that said she knew he wouldn't hurt her.

It was as if she dared him to prove he was ruthless and uncaring. Things he'd vowed to himself he would always be. That he would feel nothing for anyone, ever again.

Numb to the world and all its pain.

She was his enemy. The very thing his father sought to protect. Malphas had sworn his sword and army to the utter destruction of every member of her pathetic race. To see them put down like the infectious disease they were.

Humanity …

The very word was bitter on his tongue.

Yet as he looked down at her and felt the heat of her hand on his skin …

This wasn't hatred inside him. He wanted to comfort her and chase away the frightened light in her eyes. Even more peculiar, he wanted to know what a smile would look like on that innocent face.

“I won't hurt you, little one.” He wasn't sure who was more stunned when those words came out of his mouth.

She or he.

For the first time, the terror faded from her eyes and her gaze softened to warmth. Placing her arm about his waist, she gently helped him toward her cave. “Are all demons as gigantic as you?”

He snorted at her question. “Depends on the species.” He sucked his breath in sharply as he stumbled on a hidden bramble, and pain hit him anew. She didn't flinch as he put more weight on her than he'd meant to.

Amazed by her, he gentled his grip on her shoulder, not wanting to hurt her in any way. “Are all women as brave as you?”

Finally, a smile curved her lips, and it was as breathtaking a sight as he'd thought. “Depends on the species.”

He'd arched a brow at her flippant, teasing tone. “Well, aren't you a cheeky one?”

“So says my father. It's ever a fault of mine that I don't know my place. But who better to know my place than I, says I? And who so better to determine it? For I will not be hemmed in by anyone else's expectations. This is my life, such as it is. And it will be lived under my rules so long as I have it.” She led him into the dark cave where his sight quickly adjusted.

To him, this was home.

Even more surprised by her spirit that was unafraid of the dark he called home, he sat down on the floor while she went to a corner and uncovered a small tinder box. If he didn't know better, he'd think her part demon the way she moved about in the darkness as if she could plainly see.

But it was merely the fact that she was familiar with the place, and knew where everything in it was located. She struck a match and lit a small tallow candle to burn. Holding it aloft, she returned to his side and placed it in a small makeshift sconce she'd created.

Once she could see, she returned to his side and knelt down. When she reached for his armored cuirass, he caught her soft hand with his claws. “What are you doing?”

She gave him a blank stare. “I was going to inspect your injury. Surely, you don't think I could do you harm?”

No, but trust didn't come easy for him. He'd never had anyone who hadn't sought in the past to give him all manner of pain.

That list included his own parents.

Reluctantly, he loosened his grip and surrendered to her care. As promised, she didn't hurt him. Rather she carefully examined his wound then tore away a section of her underdress to bandage it.

That selfless act hit him twofold. One, that she destroyed her own dress for his care. And two that her touch was feather-light and seared him to the core of his rotten soul.

When she was done, she sat back to smile down at him. “You lie still and rest. I shall get you something to eat and drink.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome…”

By the way she said that, he knew she wanted something from him, but he had no idea what.

After a second, she laughed. “What's your name?”

“Malphas.”

“Malphas?” she repeated in distaste. “That name doesn't suit you at all.”

“How do you figure?”

“You're far too handsome to be a
Malphas
.”

Was she insane? He was completely demon in her presence. The one thing he'd learned early in his life was that humans hated them whenever they wore their demon skins. Everything about his kind was repugnant to the human species.

Yet it didn't seem to faze her at all.

Not even the darkness of his blood or the length of his claws that had been designed to shred human flesh seemed to bother her. She acted as if he were as normal to her as daylight.

And it softened his hardened warrior's heart in a way nothing ever had before. “What name would you have for me, then, little one?”

She pursed her lips into an adorable frown as she considered it. Then, to his complete consternation, she reached up and gently brushed his orange hair back from his face so that she could cup his cheek and study his features. “Caleb.”

It left him speechless that she'd instinctively picked a name so close to his summoning name … as if she could sense it somehow. But more than that …

“Caleb?” He shuddered. “Why such an awful thing?”

She dropped her hand to the center of his chest. “Because I sense in you a true heart. A
faithful
heart. And by your wounds and scars, I can tell that you are fearless. So I shall call you Caleb, the faithful, fearless warrior who defends what he believes with everything he has. That is what I see when I look upon you. Not a demon. An ever-courageous, noble warrior. One day, I suspect, you shall look into a mirror and see the same noble man I do.”

And with those handful of words, Lilliana shattered the icy barrier that had caged his heart since the moment he'd been forsaken to this harsh bitter world without friend or family. “I can assure you that I will never look into a mirror and see a man there. At least not that I don't scream. Then kill it.”

She laughed. “You know what I mean. Now let me see about collecting your sword before it's found and they begin looking for you. Then I'll make sure you have supplies until you're well enough to rejoin your army.”

Malphas's breath had left him in a rush as he realized that he'd completely forgotten his weapon.

What the hell?

He'd
never
in his life set his sword aside. Never been disarmed by anyone.

Until now.

Malphas had set it aside without a second thought. What magick did this human wield so effortlessly that she could ensnare the most lethal demon commander in the entire Mavromino army? For weeks now, he'd been pursued by their deadliest forces. Even wounded he'd put down their best soldiers with minimal effort.

And she had done nothing more than smile and he'd laid aside his sword.

I'm an idiot.

One who expected her to return with enemies to use his sword to kill him. After all, they would need such a weapon, forged by the gods, to damage his flesh, as mortal weapons were harmless against him.

But she didn't. Instead, she returned, just as she'd promised, his weapon in hand and a basket of food for him in the other. Without a single reservation, she'd handed his sword to him. Then given him food and drink, and redressed his wound.

When she finally left the cave later that day, she'd carried his heart with her. A heart he hadn't even known he possessed. With nothing more than a handful of spirited words and a kindness he'd never known, she'd taken the most lethal demon ever spawned by the most vicious, callous creatures the Source had spat out, and captivated him.

Centuries later, Caleb still loved her. He still grieved for her and kept her memory sacred. And he continued to use the name she'd given him to remind himself that his wife, alone, had seen something inside him besides a monster.

Lilliana had taught him to fight, not simply against his father because he hated him, but
for
his convictions because that was what a man of honor did.

It was the right thing to do.

I pray that you never again reach for this sword, Lord Husband. But should the day ever come when you must return to war, then it should be to protect what you love. Never again for hatred or fear. And never should you battle for vengeance.

Nick felt the same emotions Caleb had felt on the day he'd plastered his demonic sword into the wall of his cottage bedroom. Wrapped in enchanted cloth and bound with a protection spell to keep his enemies from locating him, he'd promised his wife that he was done with battle forever.

Never again would he fight for any cause. His only goal was to remain home with her on her farm, in the guise of a humble human.

But the gods hadn't allowed him that peace. They'd dragged him back to their war against his will. Yet true to his word, he hadn't returned to fight for the Mavromino.

He'd reemerged as a champion for the Kalosum—the side of light. His love for his wife had proven far greater than his hatred for his father, and to please his Lilliana and save her people, he'd fought with his enemies, and protected them with every ounce of his demonic strength.

And he continued to do so even now.

Nick scowled as he looked over at his friend and saw both faces of Caleb—the demon Lord Malphas, and his loyal, if often surly bodyguard who never hesitated to put his life on the line to protect him.

Caleb looked up and froze as he caught Nick staring at him. He narrowed his dark gaze on him.
What's that look mean? I swear, Gautier, you cop a feel, and I will put you through a wall.

Laughing, Nick blew him a kiss.

“Is there a problem back there, Mr. Gautier?” Ms. Pantall asked.

“No, ma'am. Caleb was just making goo-goo eyes at me again and staring at my chest with evil intent. Please tell him to stop sexually harassing me, as it's making me very uncomfortable.” Nick clutched the collar of his shirt together and leaned away from Caleb.

Caleb choked while several students burst out laughing.

Ms. Pantall rolled her eyes. “In that case, I will remind you both of the
No Public Displays of Affection
rules that we have for the school. So behave and turn in your homework.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Nick pulled it out.

He'd just gotten comfortable again when the door opened to admit a new student. Something that didn't happen often in their small, private, parochial school. And it wasn't just because St. Richard's was hard to get into due to its high academic standing. But rather from the fact that the school had been set up as a place for preters to learn how to mingle with humans and not let the stress throw them into their animal states.

While there were a handful of
baretos
, or “normal” humans who had no idea that they were attending school with shape-shifters, the majority of the student body here was either shape-shifters or the children of Squire families. Squires who had been in service to Dark-Hunters like Kyrian and Acheron for generations.

As such, the Squires usually sent their kids to private school together so that they could be watched by older Squires to ensure that no one messed with them. Especially since their enemies might want to take their kids hostage, or kill them to get back at their parents or the Dark-Hunters in retaliation for the centuries of protecting humans from their supernatural predators.

It also allowed the shape-shifter families a controlled environment for their children so that they could have playtime with humans where if they had an accident and shifted into their animal bodies, the humans wouldn't flip out and call the authorities. As Squires or their children, they understood about Were-Hunters, and they could help cover for them with the humans here who didn't know about them.

It gave the Were-Hunters a way to practice being in the normal world so that they could acclimate.

Nick had been one of those
baretos
students at St. Richard's until two and half years ago when his best friends had turned on him, and Kyrian had saved his life. For some reason that still eluded Nick, the ancient Greek had taken a liking to him and decided to give him a hand up and bring him into this amazing world.

Now he was a Squire at an age that was unheard of, since Squires were supposed to be eighteen before they could be sworn in to their oaths. But Kyrian had pulled strings and so here Nick was. The youngest Squire in Council history.

And this new guy they were introducing …

He didn't appear to be a Squire or one of their kids.

Nick glanced at Caleb.
What do you think?

Caleb shrugged nonchalantly.

Ms. Pantall cleared her throat as she read his card. “Everyone? This is Nathan St. Cyr. Nathan's a new student who just moved to New Orleans from New York. I know everyone will be on your best behavior and welcome him in. Mr. St. Cyr, if you'll take an empty seat, we'll get started.”

An odd sensation went through Nick as Nathan neared him. Like a wire had been touched to his spine and sent a jolt through his entire central nervous system. Not that anyone had ever done that to him, but that was what he imagined such a thing would feel like.

As Nathan neared his desk, he inclined his head to him, then sat down on the other side of Kody.

Yeah,
that
didn't endear him any.
You better not be eyeballing my girl, punk …

Nick would snatch those blue eyes out of that boy's head and use them for marbles. The Malachai in him was rising up and breathing fire down Nick's neck. It was hard to leash the beast when he came calling like this. Every part of Nick wanted a piece of Nathan for daring to trespass on Kody's personal space.