She leaned back and looked at him. His handsome face, still so young and yet hardened. His full mouth framed by scruffy, dark-blond growth. His broad shoulders on which the weight of the world sat. He was so stunningly handsome. So painfully beautiful.

  “You have to stop me,” she said, running her hand over a wide shoulder and along the hills and valleys of his biceps. Lean and muscular, he was part human, part predator.

  Poor guy had almost died less than an hour ago, and she was trying to have her way with him. If he’d wanted her, wouldn’t he have made the first move? Perhaps, but he owed her the words. He owed her closure.

  “Tell me you don’t want me.” Her hand slid over his bandages, caressing his rib cage and down to the waistband of his jeans. Despite the strong scent of industrial cleaner in the truck, she could smell him. His soap. She leaned forward to breathe in the woodsy scent, rich and warm like him. “Tell me you left me for a reason,” she said into his ear. She lowered her head to study the button and the zipper. The only two things standing between her and what she wanted most. “Tell me you don’t love me.” She pushed her fingertips into his jeans and released the button. “You never did.” She slid the zipper down. “You’ve been happier without me.” She pulled the two edges of his jeans apart, and the muscles in his abdomen contracted. “We will never work.” She plunged her hand inside and wrapped her fingers around his erection as he sucked in a sharp breath. “It was never meant to be.” She looked up at him and pleaded. “Just stop me already.”

  Black tendrils of ink had slid across his eyes as he watched her. Glistening and dark and dangerous, the blackness took over, but it was still him. She could see him in his expression. In the youthful lines of his face.

  She tightened her hold. He bit down on his lip and released a soft groan before grabbing her wrist. But it was too late. She sank onto the floorboard between his legs, pulled him free, and slid her mouth over his steely cock.

  He grabbed handfuls of hair to rein her in. She inched farther down anyway.

  “Amber, fuck.”

  Reveling in her power over him, she eased back and then swallowed him again. He grabbed the armrest as she repeated her performance. She felt the blood rush through his rigid cock.

  “Amber,” he whispered a microsecond before he dragged her onto his lap and kissed her. His mouth was warm and heady, his scruff soft against her cheeks as he drove his tongue inside her mouth. Seeking. Tasting. Sucking. The kiss grew more desperate, nearly brutal in its exquisiteness.

  Now straddling him, she wrapped her arms around his neck, broke off the kiss, and held his head to her breast. He moved his hand into the sweats and over her ass. One hand slid between her ass cheeks and between her legs. She squirmed, but he held her tight. Parted her folds. Dipped his fingers to wet them, then found her clit and circled it, his touch feathery soft, such a contrast to the rest of him.

  The orgasm she’d been craving at his hands sparked to life beneath his deft touch, the pressure delicious. “Quentin,” she said, burying her fingers in his hair.

  He continued circling, his movements slow and meticulous.

  She threw back her head and spread her knees farther apart to give him better access. To let the heat simmering in her abdomen come to a boil. With his free hand, he tugged at her shirt. She lifted it over her head, and he made quick work of her bra.

  The cool air tightened her skin. He pulled her against him and took a nipple into his mouth. It sent heat flares to that place in her core where all the orgasms lived, waiting for their turn to blossom. She plucked one and coaxed it forward as his touch grew more urgent. As his tongue teased the delicate peak it had been nurturing.

  His desire impatient, he lowered her onto the bench seat. He peeled the sweats off her and kissed the inside of her left ankle before perching that foot on the passenger’s seat headrest. He kissed the inside of her right ankle and perched that foot on the back headrest, then continued peppering the inside of her leg with kisses, leaving heat trails on her skin. When his mouth sought her core and covered her clit, she almost came off the seat.

  He forced her back down and suckled her clit softly as she writhed beneath him. She buried her hands in his hair as the world spiraled around her. “Quentin,” she said, her voice more desperate than she’d planned. “Hurry.”

  He rose, ripped open a condom, and slid it over his rock-hard erection. She watched, her mouth watering as he stroked his cock, priming it for what came next. Then he hovered over her, his eyes solid black like a predator readying to devour its prey.

  When he pressed into her, she dug her nails into his shoulders. It had been a very long time, but the pain only pushed her to greater heights. She fought for air as he slid inside her, burying himself in one long thrust. A movement that elicited a gasp before she remembered that he could hear her. Still, she gasped again when he slid out and plunged back inside.

  His muscles had solidified. He reached one arm over and grabbed the door above his head, his hand, hard and masculine, starting to shake. A beautiful, dark kind of agony overcame him as he grew closer to climax.

  She could hardly take her eyes off him, but her orgasm was skyrocketing toward her. She clutched him to her and locked both her arms and her legs around him as he drove into her, each thrust feeding the pressure building in her core. He pounded faster and faster, and she cried out when heat bloomed inside her like a nuclear reactor. It exploded, soaring through every molecule in her body, spilling over in sweet and stinging waves of pleasure.

  “Holy fuck,” he growled, pushing inside her and holding his position as his orgasm spasmed through his body. He ground his teeth and waited it out before easing his hold with a final, shuddering breath.

  She grabbed handfuls of his hair and pulled him down to her, their quick breaths matching pace. Their heartbeats synchronizing.

  When he rose and looked at her, his eyes were blue again. Unreal. Amazing, astonishing, magnificent, and unreal. And here she’d wanted to sleep in.

  Chapter Ten

  Large freight only.

  —Women’s underwear

  She lay sprawled on top of Quentin on the backseat, marveling at the way the day had gone and the number of times she’d climaxed—mostly at the number of times she’d climaxed—when something the demon said hit her.

  Again, it all boiled down to control. Quentin had been livid about the fact that Rune had taken control. That she’d had him take control. He’d lost the one thing he cherished most. His independence. His autonomy.

  The demon wanted to be set free from the house. It wanted the salt line broken so it could leave. But it’d first said it wanted its freedom. What if it had been talking about two separate things? Even though it had completed its tasks, it’d still been in town. Waiting. The image of the woman Amber had seen popped into her head.

  “Quentin, I think I know what’s going on. Why the killings are so unusual for a demon. And so random.”

  He ran a hand lazily over her back. “I’m all ears.”

  “What if the demon has no free will? What if someone, or a group of someones, is controlling it? It told me it wanted its freedom and that it seeks the summoner. What if it meant freedom from the people controlling it? From the people summoning it?”

  “What makes you think multiple people are controlling it?”

  She rose and rested her chin on the back of her hands. “Remember how it kills at least two people everywhere it goes?”

  “Hard to forget.”

  “And are those people always connected somehow?”

  “Yes. It’s one way I know it’s the right demon. Strange deaths of two or more connected people that are unusual and days apart.”

  “I think it’s killing the person it was summoned to kill and then killing the summoner as a way to gain its freedom. It wants control over its destiny, but people keep summoning it. When I read the demon, I got a lot of anger. A ton of frustration. Like it had no control, and that pissed it off. And,” she said, stopping to chew on her lower lip a moment, “I know who it wants to kill next.”

  He stilled, clearly surprised. “You saw?”

  She nodded. “I did.” She looked toward the Tavern. “Sarah. I think she summoned it. It was weird. I heard clicking on a keyboard. Saw her face. It’s something online. Some kind of chat room. Or cult.”

  “Same difference. The dark web has a lot of stuff like that.”

  “Yes. Exactly.” Amber looked at him. “Quentin, I think Sarah wanted those three specific people dead for a reason, I just don’t know why.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Let’s ask.”

  The fact that he believed her without question meant everything to her. He put his hand on the door handle, but she stopped him by reaching over and putting her hand over his.

  When he questioned her with a gorgeously raised brow, she said, “In case something happens, in case this thing goes wrong, there’s something you need to know.”

  He sat back, looking wary now. “Okay.”

  “I… I found your birth parents.”

  If she had told him that she was captaining the first manned mission to Mars, he likely would’ve been less surprised. He stilled completely. His full lips parted as he gazed at her. Then he shook his head. “That’s impossible. I’ve—”

  “You were right. You were born in DC. Your mother died when you were young. Your father raised you and…he’s like you, Quentin.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “He’s Deaf, and he can see the departed just as clearly as you can.”

  “Can?” he asked in disbelief.

  “Yes, can.” A knowing grin spread across her face. “He’s still in DC. He works at a cemetery digging graves and doing maintenance. I think he likes it there. I think it’s peaceful for him. I didn’t tell him I knew you. I wanted you to make that decision. But, Quentin, he’s kind of wonderful.”

  “I don’t understand. What happened? How did I end up—?”

  “The first demon possession.”

  “Seems to be a theme with me, doesn’t it?” True, but the first one was an entirely different breed of demon. Or maybe Rune was. Demons were not generally so family oriented. They were evil. Pure and simple.

  “There aren’t many people like you, apparently. From what I can gather, the demon that possessed you and sent you after my aunt Charley did so while you were on a school trip for football. You were the quarterback, by the way.”

  He shook his head, unable to remember any of his past.

  “The demon took absolute control.” Which would explain Quentin’s fear of losing it. His anger at having lost it at her hands. “He had you send texts to your dad, telling him you were leaving. You’d had a fight, so it wasn’t a huge surprise, but your dad feared you getting into trouble, so he didn’t report you missing. He kept in touch. Begged you to come home. Quentin, the demon said some pretty nasty things to him. He never knew it wasn’t you. A month later, Aunt Charley found you, and the rest is history.”

  He turned to look out the window.

  Amber could tell how stunned he was. How hurt. She took his hand in hers. “Your real name is Quinn. Quinn Rutherford. So, you almost remembered it right. The demon didn’t erase everything.”

  He rubbed his mouth, unable to believe what she was telling him. After all this time.

  “Quentin, if something happens, all of your father’s information is in my desk at my office in Santa Fe.”

  He snapped out of his musings. “Why? What’s going to happen?”

  “No. Nothing. I mean, you know, just in case. There is a demon who is quite prepared to kill us if we get in its way. I give us a fifty-fifty chance. If we make it through this, you can give me your address, and I’ll send everything to you.”

  “No.”

  “No?” She frowned, the bite instantaneous. He didn’t want her having his address? Was that it?

  He pulled her onto his lap, and she settled against him. “No, I’m not leaving. Do you think I’m letting you go again?”

  That sting in the backs of her eyes returned. After all these years… “I just want to state for the record that if that demon kills me now, after all this time, after finally getting you back, I am going to be very angry.”

  A perfectly shaped brow arched heavenward. “Amber Kowalski, angry? I didn’t realize such a thing was possible.”

  “Try leaving again without saying goodbye, and you’ll find out just how angry I can get.”

  He snaked a hand up her T-shirt and over her rib cage, causing an outbreak of goose bumps to spread over her skin. “Is that a promise?” he asked.

  “It’s a threat.”

  “Ah.”

  “And not an idle one, either,” she warned. “There is nothing idle about my threats. My threats are hardworking. Not afraid to get their hands dirty.”

  He laughed softly, the sound like a summer rain, and wrapped his arms around her. When he buried his face in the crook of her neck, she pulled him against her, and they held each other for a long moment, reveling in the feel, the perfect fit. The rightness. If they lived through the next few hours, she was so getting laid. Again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Visited hell.

  Crazy shit went down.

  Not allowed back.

  —True story

  Even after everything Quentin had put her through, Amber had still cared enough to search for his father. He didn’t deserve her. He’d never deserved her. And yet, here she was. The elfin queen. Showering him with a love he’d craved for so long that he’d forgotten what it felt like to be happy. To be content.

  As soon as this demon was dealt with, provided he survived, he was quitting La Guardia Segreta and going home. They wouldn’t be thrilled about it, but they’d taken everything from him so he really didn’t give a shit either way.

  But first, he had a demon to see to.

  He held onto the elfin for as long as he could. The feel of her both alleviating the agony inside him and aggravating it. He wanted more of her. Ached for more of her.

  “We have loved her for so long,” Rune said.

  “I know.” Rune had loved her through him. He’d known it for years.

  “This demon will not be easily defeated.”

  “Are they ever?” Quentin asked.

  “It will kill you to get to us.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Precisely. You must release us. You must hand us over. We can be the distraction you need to get the upper hand.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “It’s the only way.”

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  “The demon is too fast, even for you.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “I call ’em like I see ’em, human.”

  “And how many of you will die in the process?”

  “How many of you will die if we do not stop it?”

  In all the years Rune had been hitching a ride, Quentin never knew exactly who he was talking to. The leader, surely. But what was his name?

  “Don’t go there, human.”

  Unfortunately, he couldn’t have a single fucking thought without the whole of Rune knowing about it.

  “Exactly. So, stop thinking and kiss her again.”

  Quentin laughed. His relationship with the elfin could get awkward. Ménage à million. They’d have to deal with that later. For now, he asked anyway. “What’s your name?”

  “What do you mean? We are Rune.”

  He pulled Amber tighter. “If this goes south, I’d like to know who I’ve been talking to all this time.”

  “You’ve been talking to Rune. We are one. We’re like the Borg that way.”

  “Really? Star Trek references?”

  “Really. Star Trek references.”

  Okay, then. It would have to do for now. They had to get on with this before someone accidentally freed the demon. He loosened his hold, and Amber leaned back, her gaze so full of love it physically hurt. She had changed so much, and yet not at all. He brushed a thumb over her bow-shaped lips, and she leaned in and kissed him. He buried his hands in her hair and tilted his head to deepen the kiss. To breathe her in. To memorize her taste.

  When she finished the kiss with several soft pecks over his face and drew back, a look of guilt had shadowed her features. “I’m sorry. About raking through your memories like that.”

  “Don’t be. They’ve been left to their own devices for far too long. They probably needed to be raked. Maybe even weeded.”

  She laughed softly. “Are you ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  He pulled on an old canvas windbreaker and pushed the sleeves up to his elbows. A windbreaker with deep pockets that had been preloaded with black salt. She shrugged into the same jacket she’d worn before.

  “I have a hoodie in there somewhere.”

  “No,” she said, hugging the jacket to her. “I like this one.”

  “The rip down the center does give it that, what did you call it, hobo look?”

  She giggled, the sound like sparkling water, and kissed him on the cheek. The fact that he’d never heard her giggle before today broke his heart. He’d been missing out.

  “Let’s go kick some demon ass,” she said.

  “Yeah, you get to stay in the truck, Rambo.”

  “What? I’m the one who told you about Sarah.”

  “You can help with her. Maybe knowing why all of this is happening will give us an edge. But when I have to face the demon, I need to know you’re safe. Thinking otherwise will only distract me.”

  She blinked as she considered his words. “I guess. I certainly can’t move like you can. But maybe it won’t come to that. Maybe we can stop it through the website or whatever they’re using to learn how to summon it, which, seriously, what the hell?”

  “Maybe,” he said, not believing that for a minute. “But I do agree. What the hell?”

  “Can I bring the crossbow?”

  “No.”

  They went back inside the Tavern and spotted their table. Kyle had come back in, and both he and Dora sat there, but the lunch crowd had cleared out. Most of them, anyway. The man in the Hawaiian shirt was still there, reading a paper.