First Drop of Crimson (Night Huntress World #1)(5)
Author: Jeaniene Frost

The rest of his spawn. Her parents’ faces flashed in Denise’s mind. One of them had to be a descendant of Nathanial’s, since she and her cousins obviously were, and Raum meant to kill all Nathanial’s remaining family in his quest to find him.

She couldn’t let that happen. "I’ll find him," Denise said. I don’t know how, but I will.

Raum traced his fingers along her arms. Her skin crawled in revulsion.

"I believe you mean that. But as extra incentive…"

His hands tightened around her while a ferocious new pain erupted inside her. She could hear herself screaming, but over that was Raum’s careless laughter.

"Try not to die, will you? I’ve only just started."

Spade wrinkled his nose as he turned down Denise’s street. Something foul reached him even through the ventilation system of his car. His eyes swept the road, expecting to see a car with a smoking engine or a roof being tarred, but there was nothing. The smell worsened as he pulled into Denise’s driveway.

Spade reached into his satchel, pulling out two long silver blades that he concealed in each sleeve. Then he got out and walked up to the front door. Once there, he inhaled deeply near the frame.

The stench of sulfur filled his lungs, enough to choke him if he were human. Spade expelled his breath with a curse. Only one creature could leave such a smell in its wake.

Denise MacGregor wasn’t imagining things after all, but she might not be alive for Spade to tell her that.

He leveled the door in one kick and then burst through, rolling at once to avoid any attack. Denise was crumpled on the floor near a couch, but Spade didn’t rush to check on her. He glanced around the room, assuring himself no one else was there. Nothing but the sounds of her breathing and heartbeat.

He checked every room and closet upstairs and downstairs, but found nothing. Satisfied that he wasn’t walking into a trap, Spade went to check on Denise.

She was unconscious, wearing only a robe with the belt untied – and she stank of sulfur like she’d bathed in it.

Spade’s lips thinned into a grim line as he peeled back the robe. He’d been prepared to find the worst, but surprisingly there were no signs of an assault. It looked as though the demon had come, knocked her out, and then left.

Spade closed her robe and smoothed away the damp mahogany hair that covered her face, shaking her lightly.

"Denise, wake up."

It took a few tries, but then her hazel eyes opened, focused on him – and widened in panic.

"Where is he? Is he still here?"

Spade kept a grip on her, making his voice soothing. "No one’s here but me. You’re all right."

Denise let out a harsh sob. "No, I’m not."

She pulled up the sleeves of her robe to expose her forearms. Spade couldn’t stop his curse as he saw the star-shaped shadows marking her skin.

Denise was correct; she wasn’t all right. The demon had branded her.

Spade sat on the closed lid of the loo in Denise’s bathroom. She’d insisted on showering, even though he’d had to carry her up here. He’d offered to help her wash but she flatly refused. Humans. As if this was any time for him to feel voyeuristic.

He refused to leave the bathroom, though, stating he wouldn’t have her death on his conscience if she slipped and broke her neck while trying to get out of the tub. Denise responded bitterly that the demon told her she was beyond mortal death after being branded. Spade wasn’t sure that was true, so he’d taken her robe, leaving her with no other option but to sit on the tile floor and tug the shower door closed.

He could see her hazy outline against the smoked glass. Hear her fumble about as she went through what must have been all her soaps and shampoos. The air filled with different perfumes, overpowering the lingering scent of sulfur. Spade closed his eyes. He’d have to get Denise to a safe place soon. It was doubtful the demon would leave only to come right back, but she couldn’t stay here.

"I need a towel."

Spade pulled out two, handing the bigger one through the crack she’d opened in the shower. Once she’d wrapped it around herself, he opened the shower fully, ignoring her protest, and lifted her up, using his free hand to rub the smaller towel against her dripping hair.

"I can do this myself," she said, pushing at him weakly.

"Under normal circumstances, I don’t doubt it," he replied, carrying her to her bed. "But you had a demon nearly give you fatal cardiac arrest, then force his essence through your body. No one would be on their feet after that, so quit arguing and let me help you."

She sagged against him, as if it had taken all her remaining strength to put up that last bit of fight. Spade kept his arm around her, bracing her next to him as he dried her hair with one hand and held her towel closed with the other. Her eyelids fluttered, her head tilting to rest on his arm. It left the smooth expanse of her throat mere inches from his lips.

Spade fought back a sudden urge to trace her pulse with his mouth. It had been over a day since he’d eaten, but hunger wasn’t his only motivator. A muscle flexed in his jaw. He’d hoped time would eliminate the strange draw he felt toward Denise, but clearly, it was still there.

He’d first seen Denise when he went to Crispin’s holiday party over a year ago. Spade walked in, and the first thing he’d noticed had been a dark-haired woman, her head thrown back in laughter over something Cat said. The woman glanced in his direction a moment later, as if she’d felt him watching her. Her full mouth was still open in mirth, but it was her direct gaze that snared his attention. That, and the unfamiliar charge that went through him as he stared.

"Who’s she?" he asked Crispin.

Crispin followed Spade’s gaze and let out a snort. "Sorry, mate. That’s my wife’s best friend."

And with those words, Denise became off-limits. She was human, and Spade had only two uses for human women – feeding or casual shagging. Since Denise was Cat’s friend, indulging in either would be an insult to Crispin. Spade had stifled that odd twinge as he glanced back at her, but she’d already turned away to smile at a tawny-haired lad. It was almost a relief when Crispin told him she was also married. He truly had no reason to give her further thought.

But now Denise was widowed, wearing only a towel, and in his arms. Hard to ignore the draw he felt toward her under these circumstances.

She’s not for you, Spade reminded himself sternly.

Still, no harm in noticing she was lovely. Her hair appeared darker while wet, and her complexion was roses and cream. The harsh smell of sulfur was gone, leaving her own scent of honey and jasmine to rise through the other perfumes covering it. Looking at her clad in the towel, her eyes closed and mouth slightly parted, was far more enticing than when he’d seen her naked while he’d been checking her for injuries.