Claimed by Light (2 page)

Vaguely remembering saying good-bye to his buddies, he busted out of the house and into his car. The fear crackling Addie’s voice hacked a hole in his gut. He’d saved her ass a few times over the years, but something about this situation felt way worse than anything she’d gotten mixed up with before.

Mostly because he’d had a vision along with it.
That was new
. Usually he just got a call from her, at the most inconvenient time possible, asking to be picked up. Or he had to hustle down to the police station.

He pressed the gas pedal and took the corner onto Main Street way too fast. So much for a smooth road to graduation.

Within ten minutes he drove into the parking lot of a run-down hotel. Half of the sign blinked pink neon, and the other half didn’t even work. He hopped out of the car, and the frigid winter air slapped his bare arms. Having left the house so fast, he forgot his jacket, and Colorado decided this night, after a three-day heat wave, to turn on the winter blast.

Didn’t matter, he had to find his sister.

Hustling toward what appeared to be the main entrance, he glanced around. Two stories of doors were off to his right, all but three windows dark. Besides the blustery wind howling, everything else seemed…still. As in a B-level horror flick gone wrong.

Addie’s scream sent him sprinting toward the closest door, and he saw it was propped open. “Addie!” Ready to yank her out of there, he went to kick the door, but his foot met an invisible wall. Stumbling back, he caught his balance and charged again.

Same result, only his shoulder now throbbed as if he’d tackled a concrete football dummy.

Son of a bitch.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

Slade spun. A guy who had to be at least six foot five with broad shoulders loomed a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest.

“What the hell is going on here?”

The guy smirked and nailed Slade with a stare. Coal-black eyes issued a challenge. “She’s mine, Slade.”

“The fuck she is.” He lurched forward and planted his hands on the asshole’s chest. “Let me in there.”

The guy didn’t budge, no matter how hard Slade pushed. He looked like a reject from a vampire movie with his pale skin and slicked-back black hair. The jagged scar along his left jawline and the sheer size of the guy gave Slade cause to worry. He might be a tough fight.

Didn’t matter. Addie needed help. He swung, and the bastard grabbed Slade’s palm as if batting away a pesky fly. “There is a way…” His voice trailed off as his wicked eyes looked over Slade’s shoulder.

He followed the line of sight to see that the door was wide open now, and Addie stood near a bed. There was a person lying there, the white sheets stained crimson. Light flashed off something in Addie’s hand.

A knife.

“Addie!” What was she doing? “Addie!”

She stopped, and the knife fell to the ground. “I can’t,” she whispered.

“She signed a contract, but now she’s refusing to fulfill it.” The grip on Slade’s fist tightened, bones cracking beneath the pressure.

“Contract?” Did she deal drugs for this asshole or something?

The guy snickered. “She dies if she doesn’t do what she’s vowed to do.”

“Fuck you!” Slade swung with his free hand, but the guy spun, cranked Slade’s hand behind his back, and a cool blade pricked his neck.

“What are you willing to do to save little Addie?” The stranger pushed him forward.

He turned around, and the guy grinned, only this time, fangs jutted out. Slade stumbled back, then turned to run toward the hotel room. “Addie!” He had to get to her.

Out of nowhere, the guy appeared in front of him. Slade rammed into him and fell on his ass. Looking over his shoulder he asked, “How?”

“The name is Votar.” The creature licked one of his fangs, his smirk widening. “Ready to make a deal for your sister’s soul?”

Chapter Two

Leaning against the bar, holding his beer, Slade chuckled, but there was very little humor in it. Five days earlier he’d been partying with his friends, celebrating his soon-to-be graduation, and now here he was, in France no less, waiting for a woman he was assigned to deliver to a demon that practically owned his soul.

Funny how things get fucked up in the blink of an eye—or vision in this case.

He’d so rather be playing quarters with his friends, getting buzzed, and having a good time. Instead, Votar, the demon Slade had signed his soul to in order to spare Addie, ordered him here to find some chick.

Slade tapped his phone, clicked photos, and gazed at the beauty filling the screen. His target had evergreen eyes, smooth, pale skin, and hair like red wine. Since receiving his assignment, those eyes had haunted his every waking moment—not to mention his dreams.

But he had no choice. Addie’s soul was on the line here. He could sacrifice one woman’s life to save his sister’s.

“Bonsoir, Yanni.” The feminine voice danced through the music filling the small establishment, and Slade looked up.

The woman strode toward the bar, a smile filling her face. Nearly every head turned in her direction, but he couldn’t blame any of them. She was fucking hot.

Only a couple inches shorter than him, she must have been about five foot eleven, and she was thin like a runner.

Sliding onto the stool at the end of the bar, she beamed at the bartender. Her dress was backless, the long vee exposing pale, smooth skin to where the fabric gathered at the curve of her cute round ass. His body roared to life. It had been more than a month since he’d hooked up with anyone. And while that girl, Lindsey, was nice, this one here
seriously
tripped his trigger.

She looked to be in her twenties, but how she held herself… No way was she in college. No. The confidence radiated off her in tangible waves.

But how did she get on Votar’s radar? He’d said this girl—er—woman was the only one Slade could use as his last step to sealing their deal. Said that his personal Oracle, some creepy dude with black eyes who could see the future, handpicked her for Slade.

Asshole wouldn’t tell him any more than that, though.

Slade took a long draw from his beer, hoping she’d order soon so he knew what she was drinking. Despite how much he enjoyed watching her, he had a job to do. Get her back to his room, slip some stuff from the vial Votar had given him into her drink, then when she was unconscious, call Votar.

Several men approached, putting their hands on her bare shoulders as they leaned into her. Now that he looked closer, he could see her smile widen as the guys crowded her; she enjoyed the attention.

Yes. That was his in.

He finished the rest of his second cup of courage and slid off his stool. As he approached, her laughter filtered through the heavy, alcohol-tainted air. It sounded way better than the foreign music piping into this tiny pub.

He advanced and brushed his hand along the curve of her spine, then curled his fingers around her waist. “What can I get you to drink?”

She glanced over her shoulder, her evergreen gems scrutinizing him. “Brave little American, aren’t you?” Her eyebrow twitched up.

Damn that dress revealed too much of her to resist. “You’re worth the risk.”

“Let me guess, college boy on holiday? Or maybe a dare from your frat brothers.” She glanced around the small bar, then brought the glass to her shiny lips.

“Got the college boy on holiday right.” He inched closer. “What are you drinking?”

Holding up her glass up, she said, “Yanni makes a mean Jack and Coke. Run along, little frat boy.”

“Then I’ll have to try one.” Slade lifted his chin toward Yanni, and the guy nodded, his smirk widening.

Long red hair nestled atop her head exposed her swanlike neck, and the wisps swayed as two men sauntered by. She cast a glance at them, but the jerks stared like ogres.

Slade’s jaw tensed, and he leaned against the bar, inches from her. She was in high demand and appeared to know everyone here.
Not good.

“Here you go,” the bartender said, sliding Slade’s drink toward him.

“Aren’t you going to card him, Yanni? He looks a mite…
young.
” She chuckled before taking a sip of her drink.

“Kid’s got balls approaching you, figured I’d give him one last drink before you chewed him up and spit him out.” Yanni winked at Slade. “On the house, man.”

She laughed and gestured to the stool next to her. “Have a seat…”

“Slade,” he said as he sat down. “And you are…”

“Halena.” She held up her glass and tilted her head.

Halena.
Nice name.

“So,
Frat Boy
,” Halena said. “What brings you to France?”

“Like you said,
holiday
.” He took a gulp of his drink, the liquor burning its way down his throat.

“Oh. So you’re—how do you Americans say it—sowing your oats?”

“Well, there’s that, too. So you come here often?” He cringed when the words came out of his mouth.

She laughed and took a drink. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to ask like that.” Man, he was botching this. “You just seem to know people here.”

“Yanni, mostly.” She held up her drink, and the bartender blushed. “He takes care of me. So, how long are you here?”

“Not sure.” He inched closer, hopefully not scaring her off.

“Oh yeah? Just taking it day by day then?”

“Having fun.” Brushing his fingertips along her bare back, he smiled. “Meeting people.”

The glass stopped at her lips as her mouth curved into a half smile.

So, he’d read her right. She was looking to hook up with someone tonight. As much as it made his stomach churn, he could use that.

The idea of being with her didn’t suck. What
did
suck was the reason he had for being with her. Had he been in this bar hanging out with his buddies, hell yeah he would have hit on her. But now… He
had
to.

He planted his foot on the footrest of her barstool and leaned in more, inhaling her coconut fragrance. Somehow, above all the booze and sweet mixers being served nearby, he picked up her scent. Damn it was nice.
Too nice.

She didn’t move for a few seconds, and he thought he’d blown it, but then Halena let out a long sigh and shifted toward him.

“Well, then…” She set her drink down. “You might want to ask me to dance.”

…

The mysterious Slade led Halena onto the tiny dance floor. It couldn’t fit more than five or six couples, and they were only one of three on there right now.

She didn’t care, though. All she was looking for was a pair of strong arms to get lost in for a few hours. And as tempting as his full lips were, she might even forgo her usual no-kissing rule on one-night stands.

She’d had that rule for centuries, learning the hard way that kissing was too intimate, too emotional. But despite knowing Slade barely ten minutes, she already toyed with letting that rule slide.
Not good.

Maybe it was because she couldn’t hack into his mind. She’d tried several times but met an impenetrable clamp on his thoughts. Some humans could do that, but she’d never met one.

Until now. Yes, there was something different about this guy.

And it had
nothing
to do with how sexy he was. Pushing six foot three, he was strapping, his muscles testing the limits of his button-down shirt. Not to mention that his eyes were the color of dark chocolate, one of her favorite things. And that chestnut brown hair resting across his forehead and flaring up over his ears…

Classic good ol’ American boy next door, and he radiated excitement and carefree living. Exactly what she needed tonight.

“I’m not much of a dancer,” Slade said as his warm fingers twined with hers.

Her pulse kicked up a notch—or seven—as she pulled him close. “I’m only interested in the slow ones.”

They stood eye to eye, since she wore three-inch heels. And boy, she could get lost in his chocolate irises.

A scar above his right brow suggested a tough upbringing. She might have to ask about that. More than likely he’d just fallen skiing or playing as a kid.

He had an air of class about him, yet blue collar as well, mixed in with a strength that demanded respect despite how young he looked. “What are you, twelve?”

Laughing, his hands skimmed around her waist. “Twenty-one. You?”

If he only knew. “Same here.”

She may look young, but she’d roamed the Earth for over eight hundred years vanquishing demons, guarding the gates to Hades. And for some reason she felt herself
wanting
to tell him that.

Okay. That’s new
.

Taking in a deep breath, she caught the scent of honey-spiced cedar. Talk about an intoxicating combination. “Where are you from?”

“Colorado.”

“Home of the Colorado Rockies and Todd Helton.”

His eyes widened. “You…know baseball?”

“Well, he’s nothing like the big Bambino, but—”

“Holy shit, you like Babe Ruth? How is that even possible?”

Oh, hell, she’d watched that guy come on the scene—even caught a few of his games on visits to America—not like she could tell him that, though. “American sports intrigue me, and I happen to like history.”

“Impressive.” He spun them around. “Let me guess, you love fruitcake and eggnog, too?”

“You can keep the eggnog, but
gâteau aux fruits
. What’s not to like?”

He stopped them on the dance floor, his brown eyes blasting into her like a bulldozer. “Pretty much everyone on the planet doesn’t like fruitcake…except me. I love that stuff.”

Interesting little human
. This might turn out to be a better-than-average night. He was hot, liked sports, and even had quirky taste in food. Not to mention his free spirit, taking off on his own to travel Europe.

One-night stand only, Halena. One. Night!

“So, are you in college?” His grip around her tightened.

She shook her head and fell into the role she’d created to pass as a human. “Trust-fund baby. Don’t hate me because I’m rich.”

“Hate isn’t necessarily the emotion running through my mind.” He pressed his hand to her lower back, then traced the other up her bare spine until it rested between her shoulder blades.

Home
. The thought ran through her, and she shivered in his grasp. Home? Where did that come from? Maybe a home for tonight. But nothing more.

The level of comfort she found in his arms surprised her. It had been so long since she’d connected with someone other than a fling, but with Slade… Why would she think
home
with him? Why couldn’t she read his thoughts?

“Besides watching baseball, studying American history, and eating fruitcake, what do you do to fill your time as a trust-fund baby, then?”

His breath brushed against her lips. She worked a leg between his so they could sway even closer. “Hang out at bars and dance with frat boys. You didn’t know that about us French girls, I take it?”

He huffed.

“Not much. Organize a few charities. You know, stuff like that.” So her imaginary profile indicated. Though Halena would do that if she wasn’t busy battling demons or helping Theo and Justin search for the remaining Artifacts. The Gatekeepers had five of the seven Artifacts that could overthrow Lucifer, but had no leads on the remaining two.

The demons couldn’t do much with the two should they find them before the Gatekeepers, but it would be better that they had none. They were already gaining strength; no need to give them any more of an edge in tipping the scales.

“Charities, huh? That’s cool. Which ones?”

“Domestic violence shelters, couple of orphanages.”

“Wow. That’s…really impressive. Generous.”

“Yeah, well, domestic violence pisses me off. Since I can’t give the bastards a taste of their own medicine, I do what I can to help the victims get away.” It was in her nature as a Gatekeeper and Shomrei warrior to protect innocents from danger. The Great One wove that into their DNA when He created them.

Slade’s playful eyes dimmed for a brief second, then he plastered on a smile that didn’t quite fit his young face. It was a troubled smile, heavy with…sorrow? “You’re very surprising, Halena.”

“Yeah, well, so are you, frat boy.”
Not to mention comfortable. Warm. Intriguing.

“You must travel to the States a lot, you know the slang so well.”

Being alive more than eight centuries would do that. Not much else to do other than read and study to fill the nights of immortality. She spoke several languages to near perfection, including slang.

She brushed her cheek with his, dying to know what the stubble felt like against her face. It was a perfect dichotomy of soft and prickly. A startling sensation trickled along her spine. “So, what usually happens now?”

He searched her face with curious eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Little one-night flings on your tromp across Europe. What happens after you get the girl on the dance floor and woo her with your frat-boy charm?”

“I—no.”

“It’s okay. I’m game.” She glided her hand over his shoulder, across the generous curve of his pec, then around his waist until she found his back pocket. Tightening her hold, she pressed against him. There was no hiding his body’s reaction, and she couldn’t wait to explore him.

A rush of heat curled around her abdomen, anticipating the pleasure that was sure to come. The rush of getting lost in him, forgetting all her worries and troubles…

She rested her forehead to his, reveling in the feel of the hard planes of his body and how she formed to him. Maybe it was the fact that she couldn’t read his thoughts. For a minute she felt like a normal woman out on the town, looking for some fun.

It felt nice.

“Family?” She nuzzled her nose in his dark locks. A wave of Irish Spring tickled her in deep, secret places. “Back in the States?”

“Sis—um—yeah, a younger sister.”