Tempting The Dark. Michele HaufЧитать онлайн книгу.
luck that her escape into the mortal realm should be met by the one person she knew and had thought of many times over the years. It couldn’t be a coincidence. And yet Savin was a part of the demonic world in a way that disturbed Jett. She’d watched as he stood before the tear between the realms and reckoned demons back to Daemonia. He was powerful. And dangerous.
To her, he could prove most threatening.
Yet in her moment of need, Jett had accepted his offer of safety. Because she was exhausted, tattered and worn. And yet triumphant. She’d done it! She had escaped to the mortal realm. And whatever happened next would challenge her in ways she couldn’t imagine. She had prepared mentally, but the physical challenges would be unknown. She owned a specific power. She could survive this new adventure.
As the truck entered the city, she watched headlights flash past in swift beams of red and white. It had been a long time since Jett had been in a cosmopolitan city with vehicles and buildings of human manufacture. She remembered Paris. The historical monuments and buildings, the gardens and sculptures. The elite shops and the River Seine. It hadn’t seemed to change.
She had changed. Everything she knew about every single thing had changed.
And Savin remained the one pillar she needed more than she could fathom. He’d grown older, as had she. He’d gotten big and tall. The man was a behemoth wrapped in muscle and might. His dark brown hair was still shoulder length and tousled, as it had been when they were children. But now he wore a mustache and beard and a brute glint lived in his eyes. He had become a man. A very attractive man.
Jett couldn’t prevent the frequent glances out the corner of her eye to the man driving the truck. She had not seen such a handsome being in...a long time. And he occupied every air molecule with his presence. He overwhelmed the space in the truck. Being near him made her heart flutter, in a good way. That was something it had not done since she was a kid.
But was this man now her enemy?
No. She wouldn’t think like that. She needed help from Savin. And possibly protection. Even though he was the one person she’d best run from, he was all she had right now.
When finally he parked the truck and jumped out to run around the front of the hood and open her door, Jett stared out at the dark building front where he said he lived. This was the fourteenth arrondissement. Not far from where she recalled a massive cemetery sat in Gothic silence amidst the bustling city. While she and Savin had lived in the country when they were children, their parents had alternated taking them into the city on the weekends to visit the parks and museums. Memory of those times made her heart again flutter.
Could she have back that innocence? Did she want it back? What was innocence but a foul waste of power? The darkness within her would not allow her to ruminate on the past for long. Just as well. Time to move forward.
Now Jett had ventured into the city again. With Savin. And he didn’t suspect a thing about her, nor had he asked how she had survived for so long in Daemonia. Which was how it must remain.
She slid her fingers against the wide hand he offered, and stepped down onto the sidewalk. Her bare feet were scraped and bruised from running across the vast smoke-ice planes where cracks in the landscape were edged like razors. Pain had become but a bother to her. Healing would come quickly. Perhaps. She must be cautious about utilizing the skills she had been taught.
“Your feet hurt?” Savin asked when she wincingly stepped forward.
Pain in this mortal realm felt different than when she’d been in the Place of All Demons. It was acute. And the cool air brushed her skin roughly. A shiver ensured that she had grasp of the sheen she wore. She must be cautious.
Without another word, Savin whisked her into his arms and carried her inside the building and up four flights of stairs without a catch to his breathing. Jett clung to the front of his shirt, noticing beneath her fingers the hard, sculpted muscles. And he smelled like nothing she had smelled before. Freshly exhilarating, yet rough. It appealed so strongly she nudged her nose against his shirt and inhaled. Was this what the princess felt like when rescued by the knight? How many times had they played such a game when they were children, always alternating who got to be the rescuer and who had to lie in dismay in wait of saving?
Now that game had become reality.
Why she had such a silly thought startled her. She had tried not to think about the simple human life she’d lost while in Daemonia. Too dangerous.
He set her down, yet supported her by the elbow, before a door. A door inscribed with demonic repulsion sigils. Jett knew them well. One did not live in Daemonia for so long without gaining such knowledge.
She tentatively reached to touch one of the symbols—and flinched.
“Keeps the nasties out,” Savin commented. “Necessary. But, uh... Hmm... You’ve just come from there. Must have some residual gunk on you that will alert the wards. Let me take them down for you.” He swept a hand over the sigils and muttered a word she recognized as a demonic language. He knew so much? “There. Now it shouldn’t tug when you cross the threshold.”
He pushed the door open. Cool shadows invited Jett to step inside the narrow loft as easily as if she were crossing the threshold of her childhood home after returning from a day at school. No tug from the sigils, either. Whew.
Behind her, Savin muttered a reversal to seal the wards and closed the door. That action did pull at her system, but she disguised the sudden assault with an inhale and a sigh.
When she saw him reach for the light switch, she said, “No. Uh... I can see well in the darkness. I, uh...think it will take a while to adjust to the bright.”
He lowered his hand. “Yeah, okay. There’s moonlight anyway.” He gestured to a line of windows that ran across the ceiling, skylights catching the moonlight. Pale illumination sifted down over furniture and the cluttered walls of a living area. “This top-floor apartment is small, but it has its perks. You thirsty?”
She was. And suddenly so cold, even though it had been warm outside. Jett rubbed her hands up and down her arms and glanced at the front door. No sigils on this side. Yet she was literally trapped now.
What had he asked? Right. She nodded. “Yes, water. Please.”
He retrieved a glass from a cupboard and Jett marveled at the clear, clean water running from the tap. She’d forgotten how pure things could be. Unadulterated by the darkness she had learned to caress and rely on for comfort. When he handed it to her, she held the glass for a moment, taking it in. So normal. She remembered when her mother would hand her a glass of water. Drink it down. On to the next adventure, like chasing rabbits through the cabbage patch with Savin.
“I’m not going to ask if you are all right,” Savin said. Deep and calm, his voice chased away her shivers. “You can’t be. You just came out of Daemonia. Maybe I should let you settle in and feel your way around the place for tonight?”
She nodded. “Please.”
“I bet a shower will feel great. Come this way.”
She followed him through the living room stuffed with dark, wood-trimmed furniture and saw many guitars hung on the walls. Amongst them she noticed more demon sigils scrawled on the bare-brick walls. Some glinted at her, but none seemed to notice her presence.
“I’ve only got one bedroom,” Savin said, “but it’s a king-size bed. Comfy. You can sleep in that tonight and I’ll take the couch.”
She didn’t want to put him out, but—at sight of the bed, lush with a thick gray coverlet and pillows—pillows! She’d not laid her head on a pillow for so long. Jett decided to quietly accept the generous offer.
Ahead, he flipped on the light in the bathroom and she blinked and stepped back. It was so bright.
“Oh.” He noticed her discomfort. “It’s on a dimmer.” He turned a dial and the light softened. “You can shower and there are towels in the cabinet. I probably have a shirt you can wear to sleep in. Does that