The Demon Within (A PeaceKeeper Novel Book 1)(20)

The sadness in his voice reminded her of the many times she'd been so alone, struggling to survive. Uncomfortable with her thoughts, Caly said the first thing that came to her mind. "I used to come here years ago.

"Oscar made me run for miles. I hated his regimens with a passion. But after the first few months of training, I took pleasure in the incredible peacefulness here." She shared a small part of her past with him, knowing he'd understand. "The fight is worth the price to keep this place safe."

Caly paused, unable to put her feelings into words. "I want to come here when I am eighty and find it unchanged, unsoiled by the evil that hunkers so close to the gates."                       
       
           



       

"Do I feel evil?"

For once, she didn't think of him as a demon or part of her mission. He didn't move after he asked the question, but the stillness in itself clued her in to how much her answer meant to him. The arms around her remained strong and steady. In truth, they had saved her life. The face next to hers looked over the valley, and Caly reached back, removing his glasses.

His gaze snapped to hers.

Those dark eyes that never let any detail escape now had a crack. A light blazed from within, a meager hope to be seen as something other than the enemy, something other than evil. The intensity bore into her like he wanted to read the truth of his question in her soul.

The thought prickled her skin. Unable to turn completely in the limited space on the bike, she reached behind her and touched his hair. The texture was unlike anything she'd ever felt. The thick strands tangled with her fingers, the length wrapped around her wrist, inviting her to explore further. Her mouth watered at the smell of black licorice, and she licked her lips, craving a taste.

Her strange affinity for the candy the last few days now made sense. The man had followed her, leaving behind his scent and a strange yearning she couldn't fulfill no matter how much licorice she consumed.

Because of him.

Unable to deny herself the chance to touch him, she traced his ear from top to bottom before she trailed her fingertips slowly, carefully down his cheek. Rough stubble scraped her skin and a shiver worked through her. With her thumb, she touched his lips. Once. Briefly.

He shuddered under the touch.

Her lips tingled in response, craving what she couldn't have. Chest heavy, scarcely able to catch her breath, Caly dropped her hand and faced forward. "No, you don't feel evil."

She feared that he might actually be telling the truth about being an angel, which made their actions all the more foolish.

Not wanting to deal with the consequences of what she started, she revved the Harley. "Hang on." With a roar, they barreled down the road toward town. The wind didn't beat away her thoughts like before, but the speed forced her to focus on things other than her libido.

Or the questions he'd failed to answer about his past. Ones she had been too afraid to ask.

* * *

The building stood empty, a ribbon of yellow police tape stretched across the doorway. Ruman studied the abandoned warehouse. The others had arrived before them and secured the place.

When a patrol car turned the block, Caly shoved her delicate hand into his, and they walked past the door.

Ruman looked down at their interlocked fingers, his chest oddly tight to see her small fingers laced with his. Skin roughened from years of training met his touch. Faint lines crisscrossed her hands, a testimony to her determination to master her beloved knives. Her affinity for them showed in the way she took care of her weapons, and her ability to keep all her fingers. He traced a wicked scar on the outside of her thumb, followed the jagged path to the underside of her hand. Her muscles twitched.

Fascinated with her response, he raised their hands. Only to come to an abrupt stop when she jerked them down again.

"What are you doing?" Caly hissed the words, her smile all teeth. But instead of looking at him, she glanced over his shoulder at the way they had come. "The cops are gone."

Like he had a disease, she dropped his hand and marched away. He understood the need to look inconspicuous.

He did.

Their life would be in danger the longer they remained in the open.

It didn't matter. He wanted her hand back in his. He wanted to feel that connection with her again.

A shudder seized him, and he shook his head like a dog. Things were getting to him. He went from being repulsed by the thought of touching a human to craving just one small touch of affection from her. She got to him with only one look from those forest green eyes that hid so much. When she turned the corner, he hurried to catch up.

He should remain alert, ready to save her life and fulfill his requirement. Yet, even as he thought the words, he couldn't remove his gaze from the way her backside fit the leather chaps. The way her muscles flexed and moved. The way she fitted so perfectly against him on the bike.

His gaze came to rest on the blades strapped to her leg. It should have sobered him, reminded him of his duty. Instead, it turned him on further. He remembered how she fought and wrestled with him not two days ago.

The feel of her stretched out beneath him, taut and totally focused on only him. Her tight muscles pressed against his. Her body made for his.

The image of her like that again, waiting for him, stopped him in his tracks.

A cold chill like a breath of ice touched the base of his skull, spread over the back of his neck, and down to his shoulders. Angels had been cast out of Heaven for lusting after the daughters of Adam. It may have happened many centuries ago, but he did not intend to join their ranks.                       
       
           



       

He couldn't make this personal. Angels never made anything personal. He had a job to do, and it was about time he kept his mind on the task at hand and not on some female.

Some human.

He'd keep his distance from Caly. It was the only way he'd keep his sanity. And maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to keep his thoughts, not to mention his hands, off her for once.

As they entered the warehouse, the coppery scent of death and decay saturated the air.

The muscles of his face hardened. The demon part of him relished the scent of blood, drew him against his will. The rest of him couldn't help be repelled by the same craving. A lead ball filled his stomach and rose to his throat, leaving a searing cold emptiness in its wake.

Ruman tried to maintain his objectivity as he tracked the evidence of battle, but one thought refused to be banished. Could it be possible he'd been away from home so long that he'd developed the traits of the demons and humans around him? That horrible thought took a fierce grip on his mind, circling like flies on the particularly nasty stain that wouldn't be scrubbed away.

"What do you think?" The voice spoke from the shadows.

Ruman didn't have to turn to know Henry stood only feet behind him, waiting for an answer. He was almost grateful for the distraction.

Almost.

Unsure how honest an answer he should give, Ruman asked a vague question of his own. "About what?"

"I thought you were the expert. That is why you are here, isn't it?" The words came out jeeringly, and Henry cast a quick, speculative glance at Caly. "Or did you come for another reason altogether, I wonder?"

Henry strutted off like a puffed up rooster. Ruman said nothing. He had only come for Caly, but not for the reason Henry assumed.

The more he studied the scene, the more his brows lowered. Confusion darkened his mind. How could anyone have survived? This wasn't a war. It was an annihilation. Blood had been washed away, but the stains remained. On the floor, the walls, everywhere.

Everything was destroyed. Chairs overturned, walls ripped away to show the harsh exterior bricks. No room was left untouched. Not a single item left undestroyed.

The smell of death hung in the air, a presence in and of itself. The sickly sweet smell of demon, combined with the salty sweat of human fear made him hyperaware of his surroundings and eager for the hunt.

Demons might be vicious, but this was different, beyond their normal behavior. It was almost like they were searching for something and ripped apart the people who got in their way. For centuries, demons and humans had co-existed. Whatever caused this had tipped the balance.

He needed to find answers, and quick, before the rest of the group died and his salvation with it. His gaze unerringly rested on Caly. He watched her take in the devastation and realized her safety had started to mean more to him than his reinstatement.





Chapter Thirteen





Henry watched in disgust as they crawled over the warehouse, searching for more failures they could blame on him. Each accusatory look fed the boiling rage under his skin, and his muscles tightened as he restrained himself from lashing out.

If Caly hadn't pushed him, she would've been his second-in-command and none of this would've happened. Instead, she ran like the coward she accused him of being.

This was her fault.

She promised she wouldn't split the group, and the first thing she did was steal them out from under his command.

She made him look weak.

Blood pounded dully in his head in a persistent, monotonous way ever since the incident, fraying his temper worse. It was his place to rule. He'd bled for it. Killed for it. He hadn't suffered years of abuse from that bastard only to lose it to her now.