Defying Instinct (Demon Instinct Series) Page 7

  Grayson ripped down the mirror from the wall, leaving a gaping, black hole in the middle of all my deep purple paint.

  “Was that necessary?” I muttered, but there was no longer any anger in it. I was too anxious to care.

  Resigned, I looked into the mirror he forced into my face, and inexplicably recognized myself. I didn’t know for sure, but if I could replay my dreams, this was what I looked like in them.

  My hair was the color of copper, long, wavy and shining. Reaching up a violently trembling hand, I ran my fingers through it. Silk tickled my skin, and I ran my fingers through it again and felt the softness brush against my bare neck. The sensation wasn’t uncomfortable at all, unlike the area rug beneath my naked body which was intensely excruciating.

  Pulling back my hand, I stared at the new color of my skin. Warm, Italian light brown, but with a hue of radiant gold. My fingernails had specks of gold and copper imbedded in them, as if I were wearing a thin layer of sparkly nail polish.

  My eyes in the mirror Grayson still forced on me had a sunburst of copper that now matched my hair, framed by the forest green of my father’s eyes. Seeing part of him in my reflection for the first time made tears well up again. I’d never known before how much I wished for that simple, human connection with my dad.

  I had his full lips too. And the light brown in my new…no, my real skin tone was from his side of the family. Seeing him and me side by side, someone might guess he was my father now. Which meant the copper and the gold in me was my mother’s. I wondered what she looked like.

  “See?” Grayson’s arrogance grated on my now sensitive ears. “You’re beautiful, Savannah.”

  Stealing one last glance at my copper sunburst and forest green eyes, I dropped my stare and said evenly, “Spare me, Tempter.”

  I heard Rowan chuckle, a low, animal rumble behind me, and Grayson shot him a frighteningly cold stare.

  I tried to move the mirror away and marveled that I was strong enough to budge the demon’s arm even a little. Grayson got the hint and let the mirror fall as I met his rock-hard stare. He looked at me no differently now than when my glamour was intact. Steady and stony. Whether I was ugly, or looked like I did now, it was all the same to him. I didn’t know what that meant.

  “You guys mind giving me a minute?” after several silent seconds allowed me to get a thorough picture of the scene.

  Three full-caste male demons, one shooting off vibrant bursts of sexual Tempter tension and two doing their best not to look at the mostly naked, sweaty, twitchy female huddled on the floor. And my best friend seeing me nearly naked, as vulnerable as I’d ever been.

  Yes, I needed a minute.

  Without a word, they filed out. Cyrus retreated with a formal bow, the same as before. Rowan sneered, not looking directly at me. Grayson smirked, and Benn hesitated at the door, not convinced he should leave me alone.

  I felt like I could sleep for a year. I felt dizzy and hot all over. As I wobbled to my feet, I felt achy, as if I’d worked muscles I didn’t know I had.

  Before Hadrian, I hadn’t.

  I felt grateful for Benn’s concern, and for Rowan’s sweater. I felt embarrassed. I felt the lingering sensuality of an Incubus who I had no doubt saw claiming an innocent, fledgling Scion as a worthy challenge, made more interesting by this more appealing form.

  I felt scared about my dad’s reaction. The unknown future terrified me. I was proud I’d been able to come out of the smoke-and-fire, and confused about what happened after my glamour was lifted, little of which I recalled. I felt happy to have not been killed and that I didn’t kill anyone or do any permanent damage to the store. I was furious, but at the same time, exhilarated.

  For the first time in my life, I really, truly felt.

  CHAPTER 9

  When I opened my closet, I ripped the door off its hinges.

  And none of my clothes were going to work. Nothing fit, and everything chafed. Even cotton sweatpants were uncomfortable. My underwear was too scratchy, my bras way too small. Each time I turned to reject another shirt, I repeatedly hit parts of my body I wasn’t used to having against the now door-less doorframe of my closet. My new, feminine hips and breasts felt badly bruised.

  Tears came three times before I tore a pair of jeans apart and screamed at the pile of clothes in a heap on my floor.

  The only thing I could stand against my skin was Rowan’s sweater, so I pulled it on with nothing underneath, and stood in the middle of my room. If I had a full-length mirror, I would be staring at myself, studying myself, trying to get used to it. I didn’t have any mirror but the small silver one Grayson yanked off my wall. Never wanted to see the full picture before. Better not to, I always thought.

  I wasn’t even sure I wanted to now. With my skin screaming with remembered pain and my eyes sensitive to even the slightest light, with my emotions becoming erratically manic depressive, I had enough to dwell on already.

  I had to tackle one problem at a time. If I tried anything more complicated, I was going to lose it again. Thinking about what Hadrian had done, who paid him to do it, and what was coming next wasn’t an option. I had to stay in control. Step by step was the only way I could keep going forward. Right now, getting a grip and finding enough clothing to make myself presentable was my mission.

  Despite the wintry weather, I chose a knee-length skirt I hadn’t known I owned. Was it even mine? It didn’t matter. It was in my closet, now on top of a pile on my floor, and it was the closest thing to nothing I could find for my bottom half. Rowan’s sweater was big, but not big enough to cover all of me. Was I a few inches taller?

  The black, cotton skirt rubbed and irritated, but it only touched my waist and occasionally brushed against my thighs. I’d have to deal with it. Couldn’t walk around naked, or half naked. It was already bad enough I was forced to go braless for lack of any bras in my size.

  I tried pulling on shoes, but couldn’t take it, so I left my apartment barefoot, amazed that my toenails sparkled, and hoping the store wasn’t so messy that I couldn’t find a path to walk through.

  I added getting flip flops out of storage to my mental task list, because my usual tennis shoes were out of the question.

  As I pondered what new things I’d need—deciding that I needed everything, but dreading the idea of going shopping—I went to join the others.

  With the first view of The Bookstore, my breath whooshed out of me.

  I whimpered and nearly collapsed. Benn had lied. Nothing a broom and some tools couldn’t fix? Half of the place was rubble, reduced to kindling. Precious books were ripped to shreds or burnt to a crisp. Piles of ash decorated the scorched, hardwood floor. The wallpaper was blistered and peeling. Chunks of plaster that used to be the ceiling covered the floor in white snow.

  How did I do that to the ceiling?

  The state of the store was bad, but the state of the males traipsing around the rubble was worse. I clasped my hand firmly over my mouth to keep from crying out.

  I guess I’d been too distracted in my apartment to notice what I’d done to them.

  Cyrus couldn’t open one of his eyes, his face swollen. Scorched, angry splotches riddled his arms and neck. When he made his way around the room, he struggled with a slight limp, and I could tell he was favoring his left arm. Scratches swelled along Rowan’s exposed, tanned arms and neck. He looked stunned and tense. Grayson’s clothes were ripped, and I could have sworn I saw a clump of his hair missing in the back. There was dried blood—drips of reddish purple—all along his collar, but I couldn‘t see where the wound was.

  I did that to them.

  Thankfully, there wasn’t a scratch on Benn. Demons were stronger than humans, had regenerative abilities so they healed quickly. If I did that much damage to three full-castes, I could have easily killed a human. A sick twist of fear for what could have happened ached in my stomach and made my vision blur.

  “Projecting,” Rowan called out in my direction like a drill sergeant.

>   My knees wobbled, but I managed to shoot him an Oh, shut your face telepath that had more conviction than I thought I had in me. Unbelievably, I saw one side of Rowan’s mouth quirk up even as I had to grab the wall for support.

  “Is everyone okay?” I squeaked, and Grayson was on my right, offering a hand to keep me steady. Though I was mad at myself for it, I took his hand, and was surprised by the not-altogether-unpleasant sensation of his skin on mine before turning back to the room.

  “How did…” I didn’t want to know how. “What did I do?”

  “It wasn’t in your control, Savannah,” Grayson’s velvety words wrapped around me. Only then did I notice they didn’t hurt my ears like before. My eyesight was adjusting too. Though my muscles were weak and my skin was sensitive as hell, I was improving.

  All right, it was time to get to the next task. The Bookstore was most definitely closed indefinitely. I detached from Grayson’s helping hand, tiptoed around the rubble, and did my closing duties. Having specific, familiar jobs to complete felt good.

  I flipped the Open sign to Closed. Cashed out the register. Turned on the voicemail. As I drew all the blinds on the front windows, a comfortable, dim light filled the store, which was now concealed from outside. A sign that said we were closed for renovations or something logical would be smart, so I tackled that next.

  Of all things, the dreaded computers remained unharmed. The irony had me snickering by the time the sign printed.

  My feet hurt as I hung the sign on the front door. I turned to the males who were trying to make the store more presentable, probably for Dad who was going to show up any moment. I sat on the armrest of the couch studying the demons helping me. Their wounds were healed. Even the chunk of hair I probably yanked out of Grayson’s head had grown in. Or been glamoured in. Either way.

  As I noticed my body wasn’t hurting like before, though my skin was sensitive, my muscles no longer constantly ached, I realized my feet had stopped throbbing entirely since I sat down.

  Lifting a foot, then remembering I was wearing a skirt and nothing underneath, I bent down to check the bound-to-be torn up bottoms of my feet. They were perfectly fine, except for a hint of dried blood.

  “You’re half demon, girl. You heal quickly.”

  I narrowed my eyes at Rowan, who had snuck up behind me and was looking over my shoulder. “You can’t possibly expect me to have known that.”

  He looked surprised. “You could be hurt before?”

  Wasn’t that normal? “Cuts, bruises, burns. Broke a finger once.”

  A wave of…something hit me, and I knew it came from the Hammer behind me. I couldn’t tell what it was, but it was something.

  “You were left entirely too vulnerable,” he mumbled, and I couldn’t deny the look of real alarm and disapproval on his indescribable face. I couldn’t imagine why he’d care. I couldn’t imagine why his caring made me warm in strange places.

  Rowan cleared his throat. “Feel free to wear my clothes, by the way.”

  I blushed, surprised I could recognize the burning of my face and neck. “I…um… Nothing else…uh.” I can’t wear any of my clothes.

  He nodded, as though that was all the explanation necessary. Had he been teasing me by mentioning it? Rowan didn’t strike me as the playful type.

  “The cashmere’s just so soft…and…”

  Rowan glanced at me, then looked immediately away. “It’s not cashmere.”

  “Then what is it?” I asked, running my hands along my sides, savoring the ultra-fantastic softness tickling my fingers.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Rowan watching my hands. But when I looked up, he was back to his task, sweeping the floor, paying me little attention.

  “It’s…” he began, but changed his mind. “You’ll like it better if you don’t know.”

  I laughed, startling myself. “I’ll shop for some things tomorrow.” I’ll get your sweater back to you soon.

  “It’s fine. I don’t need it.”

  It’d be a shame never to see you in it again.

  Rowan opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind again. He cleared his throat instead and walked away as I felt crystal blue diamonds scrutinizing me from the other side of the store.

  Where had that come from? Had I been flirting with a snarly, broody, full-caste Hammer demon? When did I learn how to flirt?

  Eyes narrowed, I glared at Grayson, who was helping Benn lift a bookshelf but looking at me. I didn’t know how. I didn’t know why. But I was willing to bet he was the reason behind this.

  At least, I preferred blaming a Tempter’s influence because the alternative was too crazy to even consider.

  “Jesus Christ!”

  The bellow came from the front door, making me jump to my feet and flex muscles I had no business flexing right now. The pain in my arms, my shoulders, my thighs, my eardrums, made me wince. Had everyone been keeping their voices down? Because I was practically hearing like normal until Dad came yelling through the door.

  “Savvy,” Dad barked, his light brown skin darkening in his anger. “What did you do?”

  Rowan, who had come back up defensively behind me at some point, began to vibrate. I could practically feel him reeling himself in, fighting not to lose his control even though he wanted to. The air around him prickled with aggression.

  Before I knew what I was doing, I touched a soothing hand to his chest, then walked over to my dad, preparing to explain.

  Only then did his forest green eyes lift to meet mine.

  I’d forgotten that I looked any different. Seeing my dad barge in, all I thought about was the store, how he would react, how I could explain what I’d done. But I didn’t have to explain. Victor Cole saw me, saw my real face, and knew.

  “Oh, Savvy.”

  I nodded. I wanted to cry again, but I didn’t know why.

  “Are you okay?” Dad asked, his voice so soft.

  “Yeah, Dad,” I whispered, cleared my throat, then added, in the interest of full honesty, “I think I will be.”

  “You look a lot like her.”

  I frowned, not sure how I felt about my mother, even if by chance she’d glamoured me, then unglamoured me for my own good.

  “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

  Dad considered this, scanned the room, his eyes resting deliberately on each male, holding their stare. My demon half recognized it as a territorial thing. What my human half didn’t have enough experience to grasp, was if the territory he was being protective of was the store, or me.

  “Iliana was stunning,” he said, then turned to me with rigid shoulders. “A bat-shit crazy, raging bitch demon from hell. But definitely stunning.”

  Sharp, astonished laughter burst from my throat, and hurt, but I kept laughing. I’d never heard Victor Cole say anything like that before.

  I didn’t stop to analyze. Didn’t reel in my emotions and question how or why. I went to my father and threw my arms around his neck, pulling him close, extremely careful of my now more than slightly-above-human strength. I embraced my dad, who I loved, who loved me, even if others might not see it.

  He patted my back twice, very softly. It wasn’t much. But we’d never hugged before, so I understood. When I pulled away, there were tears in my eyes again, but I was still laughing.

  CHAPTER 10

  Sleep never came that night. That I had expected my exhaustion to overcome the abrasive sheets on my bed and my debilitating gambit of feelings was a testament to how unfamiliar I was with physical discomfort. And emotions.

  So I’d set out early the next morning, determined to find new sheets and clothes that didn’t belong to and smell strongly like a blonde Hammer demon. Seemed like an easy next task to tackle.

  I’d been overambitious.

  When the five hundred dollar silk shirts and cashmere sweaters made me dip into a smoke-and-fire rage—albeit a tame one compared to yesterday—I gave up. Rowan said he didn’t need his swe
ater back right now? Fine by me. I couldn’t wear it forever. It would have to be washed eventually. But I couldn’t stand anything else.

  Cyrus must have pulled the short stick today, because he trailed behind me for hours at a respectful distance, in spite of how many times I attempted to get him to knock it off. The poor Hammer had to play the whipped boyfriend, and I felt awful about it. Especially considering how ridiculous the entire endeavor turned out to be.

  With two, measly little packages filled with a whopping three flouncy skirts that poofed out enough not to touch my skin much, five pairs of extremely expensive, rabbit fur socks which I’d had no idea even existed, and some embarrassingly cutesy panties that were only slightly better than covering my backside with sandpaper but were better than anything else I tried—and better than tramping around in nothing—Cyrus and I walked the chilly streets back to The Bookstore in silence.

  One revelation did come out of the day’s experience. The mystery of why demons didn’t wear coats was revealed. Inside stores, the heat was on. With the heat on, and a coat to shuffle with, my body temperature had been going insane. I felt run down from the fever I must have spiked each time we stepped inside a store. The cold was uncomfortable, but walking into the heat was worse.

  So Cyrus was carrying my purse, coat, and packages too. All with a respectful bow and an, “Of course, Scion.”

  Apparently it was called showing his allegiance. Rowan told me that and said I was going to have to get used to it. Made me want to smack him.

  When we got back to the store, the demon juggled my belongings frantically so he could open the door for me. At that, I vowed to make it my life’s mission to get Cyrus to treat me like a regular person.

  “Here’s what I don’t get,” I said to him as we walked inside, no longer able to hold my tongue. Because the day had been irritating, in every sense of the word. Because I was rundown, my emotions at full-tilt, and I needed words, and touch, to help me through it. Human comfort.

  Human comfort from demons would have to do.

  “Your glamour, it’s…adorable. Is that deliberate? Floppy hair and dimples, but totally hot. What’s that about?”