He reclaimed the wine, his fingers caressing hers as the glass exchanged hands.
“I don’t trust you,” she murmured.
“Probably wise.”
“That’s all you have to say in your defense?”
He held the glass out to her wordlessly. Her fingers hesitated before wrapping around the stem.
“You I will not hurt,” he said, his voice low. “Not if I can help it. My sentimentality, however, does not extend beyond you.”
Her fingers tightened on the fragile glass. “Meaning you are still holding the ax over my head. Threatening those I care for.”
His eyes were hooded as they regarded her. “It is your weakness.”
Wine sloshed around the glass as she banged it against the coffee table. Darcy launched from the couch, needing distance from Jared. “And you will exploit my every weakness for your gain,” she said, disgust clear in her tone.
“If our positions were reversed, you would do the same.”
The words were said with such calm she wanted to claw his eyes out. He might want to bed her but she was still his pawn moving around the chessboard at his will.
“Blood,” she snarled, her back to him. “You need blood to close the portal.”
“Whose?”
A feral smile curved her lips. “Whitney blood. And Kerilyn was the last of her line. Figure your way out of that riddle, demon.”
* * *
Anger radiated from his hunter. Justified though he knew it to be, it still unsettled him. He didn’t want her angry. He wanted her warm and willing in his arms as she had been mere moments before.
Her back was stiff as she stood turned from him. Not many creatures dared to show their backs when in his presence. Darcy was too brave for her own good. Watching her expressive posture, he shook his head. He’d hurt her, though he’d broken no promises.
Not living up to her expectations, however, disappointed him.
Ridiculous. The only person’s opinion he cared about was his father’s. Approval from Abaddon would give him everything he’d ever wanted. Nothing else mattered.
“I will find the blood,” he said, breaking her angry silence.
“Good luck. Give me a call when you make it back from the spirit world, having successfully assaulted their queen.”
“There is always another way.”
“Really?” She glanced back at him. “There was no way for me to avoid you without endangering my friends, was there?”
She had a point. How was he to get Kerilyn’s blood when she was safely ensconced in a realm he couldn’t touch? Besides, his uncle would rip him limb from limb before he got anywhere near the hunter.
Jaral pushed himself from the sofa and paced away from Darcy. His father would never accept failure. There had to be a way.
His father.
He stilled. Abaddon had been there last Halloween. If anyone would know about Kerilyn’s bloodline it would be him.
He looked back at his hunter and felt a strange panic course through him. Summoning the king of demons in Darcy’s presence was asking for trouble. Letting her go when she possessed some of his powers was asking for worse.
“Hell.” There was one way to get the info he needed. One choice. “Darcy,” he said, moving to her side. “You need to go back to the bedroom. Now.”
She glared at him. No other creature living would think of disobeying a direct command from him, but this one little mortal stared him down.
“I’m not a naughty child you can send away.”
He caught her around the waist and hauled her up against his chest. Jaral knew surprise was the only reason she wasn’t attacking him and he made the most of it. “I am trying to protect you,” he said.
Her eyes widened as they met his.
“I can get our answers. Ones I will share, you have my word. But the method is not one you want to witness. What I call into this hotel room can never know of your existence. When I ask you to leave, it is because I’m doing my damnedest to keep you safe.”
The seriousness in his voice must have alerted her to the danger. Anger wiped clean from her face as she frowned. “What’s happening?” she demanded.
“My father will know what to do about the blood.”
Darcy swallowed hard. “Who’s your father?”
A bitter smile twisted his lips. His hunter was going to learn far more about him than he’d ever wanted her to know. For centuries he’d been a well-kept secret and now Darcy would know the truth. A truth she would take back to her brethren.
“Jared,” she breathed.
He ran a finger down her cheek. “Not my name.”
She hesitated for a moment, looking as uncertain as he’d ever seen her. “My stepfather has a theory,” she said finally. “That Abaddon has select sons who help run the demon realm. Sons with powers far greater than any one demon should ever possess.”