Immortals After Dark 10 - Demon From the Dark

tangled hair, plucking free a twig .
    Frack, frack, frack.
    She noticed her clunky ring was loose on her finger. The Order's gruel diet had done a number on her previously wood-worthy figure. With a weary sigh, she lowered her hands to stare at her emerald ring.
    Carrow's parents had given it to her on her twelfth birthday, directly before they'd abandoned her at Andoain.
    Her father had visited there once, years later, to get her into college. Upon leaving, he'd absently patted her on the head, saying, "Send us report cards, and we'll continue sending money."
    When she'd dropped out--because there was little happiness to be found on campus during finals--she'd sent a letter to her parents instead of a report card. In it, she'd written: "If you're actually taking the time to read this, then go to hell and shove your money up your asses."
    Without fail, the next check had come.
    I'd never treat Ruby as they did me. Reminded of why she was here, Carrow tried to reason out a game plan.
    Since this demon was violently out of control, she couldn't even approach him, much less communicate with him. The Order's plan--witch lures vemon to portal--was laughable.
    She narrowed her eyes. Had those mortals known she was Slaine's mate? How could they have? Unless they had an oracle or some sort of immortal stoolie slipping them intel.
    Maybe that was why Carrow had been chosen so specifically for capture. It wasn't as if they'd just stumbled across her and decided on a nab. They'd sprung her from County.
    If the Order had known, then she surely couldn't trust them.
    Yet she had to operate under the assumption that they would let her go. Again she thought, What are two witches to them? And Carrow still had no idea where their island was. The Order wouldn't suspect she had the wherewithal to lead anyone back to the facility.
    Because she didn't.
    Now, Mariketa on the other hand...
    In any event, this plan of theirs needed tweaking. They were fools if they thought Slaine could be controlled. They wouldn't be able to predict his strength--even an immortal like her had been shocked by it.
    Carrow raised her fingers to her neck, to her healing bite mark. It fully sank in then that Malkom Slaine had taken her blood. There were repercussions from that act so risky she couldn't bear to think about them yet.
    Which meant the demon was even more dangerous than she could ever have imagined.
    Malkom yanked off the last ghoul's head, already scanning for something else to kill.
    Seven ghouls he'd destroyed this night. With no sign of her still. The drive to mate with her was there, but something else--some unfamiliar feeling--weighed on him.
    He felt as if he were losing his mind, knowing she was near, yet finding no tracks, no scent.
    Over the course of his search, he'd located only her belongings. Her food, water container, and bag had been scattered in the brush among the demon gang's corpses.
    He'd collected all her possessions for her, puzzling over the strange tube of food she'd packed and the peculiar canisters and bottles. But he'd stowed everything near his mine, carrying her full water canteen with him in case he should find her.
    Seeing that water container had reminded him that she would already be suffering the dangerous effects of thirst. Dizziness, delirium. Suffering needlessly . Malkom was rich in water.
    What he wouldn't give to go back to last night. He wouldn't have frightened her, wouldn't have uncontrollably slaughtered those demons.
    He tried to tell himself he wouldn't have stolen her blood, but at the memory of that pleasure, he knew he would be lying--
    Her scent.
    At last! For hours, he'd been unable to detect her, but now he charged headlong in her direction.
    As Malkom closed in, he slowed. Better not to make his presence known--she might turn herself invisible again or blast him with her hands.
    So he scaled a cliff to follow her from above. At his first sight of her, relief soughed through him. But he kept a vigilant eye on her, ensuring that she didn't come across one of his many traps or some maurading beast. He followed, observing her behavior, puzzling out the foreign little succubus.
    Always observing. But this time he enjoyed it. He could watch her for hours, her expressions were so revealing. And though her mutterings were incomprehensible, he recognized the tones. She was no longer afraid--she was vexed; kicking rocks, then seeming to curse them.
    Even when so visibly exhausted, she was still lovely.