Demon's Delight Read online

  He wasn’t using any compulsion, but the bloodlust careened out of control, smashing her resistance. Her fangs elongated, and the darkness stripped away the tatters of her humanity. She lunged at Gabe, knocking him onto the bed. A strangled protest escaped her throat, even as she found his jugular.

  “It’s okay, Rachel. It’s okay,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “Take life.”

  She sank her fangs deep and greedily gulped his blood. It was fuller, richer, far better than anything she’d ever tasted. She felt the energy rush through her body, but this was very different from the other times.

  Light and heat burst through her, and then she was flying through space, passing stars at a dizzying speed. But she wasn’t flashing back to Earth. Instead, she hurtled faster and faster toward a dazzling starburst up ahead—a welcoming haven of brilliant light. And, oh, she wanted to go there, more than anything she’d ever wanted. She’d never felt such warmth, such acceptance, such love. She was home. At last.

  The light teased her eyelids, disturbing the tranquil darkness in which she drifted. She tried to ignore it, but it kept intruding, until she finally roused herself and cracked open her eyes. The light hurt. She blinked, squinting against the brightness. It was warm, as if she were lying in the sun, which wasn’t possible.

  “Open your eyes, Rachel.”

  She knew that voice. But she couldn’t quite remember…

  “Rachel Emma Stryker, stop ignoring me and open your eyes,” the voice said, but it was tinged with humor.

  “Hurts too much,” she muttered.

  “That’s normal. It’s been over sixty-five years since you’ve been in sunlight.”

  Sunlight? That brought her fully awake, and her eyes flew open. Oh, no! She was lying in the center of a large sunbeam. Why wasn’t she being incinerated? She tried to scramble up, found herself pressed back against a warm masculine body.

  “No worry, Rachel. You’re fine.”

  “Gabe? Is that you?” She was alarmed and disoriented.

  “Yes, it’s me. Be calm.” His breath warmed her hair, and she realized his arms were wrapped around her.

  “I’ve got to get out of the sun.” She struggled, but he held her still.

  “No, you don’t.”

  She must be dreaming. “What’s going on? Where am I?”

  “You’re in my apartment. On my bed.”

  “Your bed?” She squinted at the uncovered window, the sunlight streaming in. “I don’t understand.”

  “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  “Flying through space.” She closed her eyes. “Going to the light. Talking to…Her.” She shot up. “I’m dead, aren’t I?” She twisted in Gabe’s arms, faced him. “Am I an angel like you?”

  His eyes glowed with warmth. “Look at yourself. Do you look like an angel?”

  “I’m—” She looked down. “Naked. And…so are you.”

  A smiled teased his lips. “Well, we were both sans clothing when you drank my blood.”

  Her memory started returning, but nothing made any sense. “I took your blood,” she said slowly, stricken with guilt. “I didn’t want to do that. Did I hurt you?”

  He leaned forward, kissed her gently. “No, silly. You made the right choice. Nothing could have pleased me more.”

  “I still don’t understand. Did drinking your blood make it possible for me to be in the sun?”

  “Yes.”

  “What the hell is going on?”

  He threw back his head and laughed, then hugged her against him. “Haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”

  She balled her hand into a fist and pounded him on the back. “Stop playing games with me!”

  “Ouch! No hitting. You’re still pretty strong, even for a regular human.”

  She growled in frustration, tired of his games. “For a regular human? What are you—” She froze, as the implication sank in. “What do you mean?”

  He leaned away, grinning like the idiot he was. “You’re now a pure, normal, garden-variety human. On second thought, after last night, maybe not so pure.”

  She stared at him. “You’re crazy. Or maybe I’ve gone crazy. Or maybe I’m dead.”

  “Rachel, you’re not dead. When you drank my blood, you chose life. My blood transformed you.”

  She still couldn’t accept it. “I don’t believe you.”

  He shrugged. “Fine. You’ll find out soon enough. Let’s start with the fact that you’re sitting in broad daylight at high noon.”

  She looked at the brilliant light streaming in the window and onto her bare, unburned skin. Couldn’t argue with that. Hope began to bloom, and she got up and went into the bathroom. Stared in the mirror and opened her mouth wide. Her fangs were gone! She stumbled backward, almost falling, but Gabe caught her. She whirled to face him. “I’m really human?”

  He nodded. “You’re really human. I’ll fix bacon and eggs in a little while, and you’ll be able to eat as much as you want.”

  “I don’t eat pork,” she said automatically, then it sank in, and she screamed with joy. “I’m human! I’m really, really, human!” She grabbed Gabe and kissed him, then dashed to the bedroom. “I want to go outside. Right now.”

  She threw on her jeans and sweater and ran for the front door. Gabe followed, dressed only in his jeans. The day was cool and crisp and clear, and the sun shone brilliantly. Reverently, Rachel lifted her face to the light, not caring that the glare hurt her eyes.

  “Oh. My.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say. She turned to Gabe. “But, how? Why?”

  He took her hand, tugged her down on the steps. He settled next to her, and she took a moment to admire the sleek male body and how the sun reflected off his beautiful skin.

  “Angels are pretty powerful beings,” he said. “We have a lot of leeway in directing events, as long as a free-will choice is made. When we come into a physical incarnation, our bodies are very strong, and our blood very potent.” He smiled at her, and his aura glowed. “When you chose to drink my blood, I was able to give you the gift of being human again.”

  “Wow.” She shook her head, still stunned. “Thank you.” Her voice shook, and she felt tears threatening. “Damn,” she said with a shaky laugh. “I didn’t cry for sixty-five years, and then you came along, and I’ve been crying ever since.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment…I think.”

  She wiped her eyes. “So, what happens now?”

  He linked his hand with hers. “You’ll live a normal, hopefully healthy and lengthy, human life.”

  “I still can’t believe it.” But despite the overwhelming joy, she felt a pang that he would probably be moving on to other angelic duties. “What will you do?”

  “I’m allowed to live out this physical incarnation, if I so choose. By angel standards, a human lifetime is just a blip in the universe.” Watching her, he raised her hand to his lips, pressed a kiss against it. “I’ve discovered that I have strong feelings for a very beautiful and headstrong young woman—and a nice Jewish girl at that.”

  It took a moment for his words to sink in, then she jerked back in surprise. “You have strong feelings for me?”

  He considered. “Perhaps I didn’t put that right. I think saying I’m in love with you would be more accurate.”

  Love? She almost fell off the steps. “You can’t mean that.”

  “There are those who claim angels can’t get it up, either. I don’t generally listen to them.” His eyes gleaming mischievously, he tugged her into his arms. “How about it, Rach? Want to hang out with me and do good deeds here on Earth?”

  She couldn’t think—everything was happening way too fast. “Well, I don’t—”

  “Good answer.” He kissed her, his tongue doing a sensual sweep of her mouth. Her blood warmed, and she leaned into him. Of its own accord, her hand slid down, discovering he was as turned on as she was. He broke off the kiss. “If you’re going to be that way about it, then there’s only one thing to do
.”

  He swept her up in his arms and carried her inside and to the bedroom. “This calls for a celebration.” He tumbled her onto the rumpled, sun-streaked sheets.

  Laughing joyously, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down on top of her. She was human again! And Gabe wanted her. He loved her. She intended to show him just how much she loved him in return.

  They celebrated for a very long time.

  Epilogue

  HOW was I supposed to know Gertie was an escape artist?” Rachel fastened her seat belt, turned her face to the light, as Gabe opened the sunroof. She hadn’t gotten tired of basking in the sunshine, even after six months. “I didn’t even know she was in heat. She only got out that one time.”

  “Once is all it takes.” Gabe listened to the small, pitiful meows and scratching sounds coming from the pet crate in the backseat, as he put the car in gear. “The kittens will be well loved at the women and children’s shelter. And we’ll have them all fixed, as soon as they’re old enough.”

  “They won’t dare fool around with Caitria in charge there. She doesn’t allow anyone to turn tricks on her watch.”

  Rachel grinned as she said that. Gabe knew how proud she was that Caitria and her children had not only thrived at the shelter, but that Caitria’s strength of character had helped her rise to the position of assistant director of the shelter.

  He reached over to stroke her hair. “Speaking of fooling around, we’ve done our share.”

  “You think?” she asked sarcastically.

  He laughed. “I definitely think.” He slid his hand down over her flat belly. “I also think we have a bun in the oven.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He loved the way her brow furrowed when she was confused. “It’s an expression. It means, my love, that you’re pregnant.”

  “What?” She stared at him, her eyes huge. “You can’t possibly know that…can you? How could you?”

  He gave her the arched brow I’m-an-angel-that’s-how look.

  “This can’t be right. I can’t be pregnant!” She shook her head. “No. Absolutely not.”

  He could see the panic setting in, and he took her hand. “It’s okay, Rach. It’s a good thing. You’ll see.”

  She didn’t look convinced. They still needed a little work on the faith issue. “When did this happen?”

  “The day we went up on the roof and made love in the rain.”

  “Oh, that day.” Despite her tension, a small smile teased her lips. “Hmmm. I think I might remember that.”

  “Might remember?” he asked in outraged male indignation. “Maybe you need a refresher course.”

  She ignored him. “A baby? What are we going to do with a baby?” Her panic level was rising again.

  “We’re going to love her and teach her about free will and how important it is to make good choices.”

  “Her?” Rachel looked terrified and utterly adorable. “It’s a girl?”

  “Yes, it’s a girl.” He felt a burst of joy and excitement. “Don’t worry, we’ll do fine, and so will she.”

  Gabe could already sense the strength and purpose of the soul choosing them for parents. You never knew which way a strong soul could go. Their daughter would either raise hell or lower heaven.

  Regardless, he was looking forward to it. He figured he was up to the challenge. He had firsthand experience in dealing with—and loving—a strong-willed woman.

  The Demon’s Angel

  Emma Holly

  Chapter 1

  THIS evening was either going to be the best of Dr. Khira Forette’s existence, or it was going to be the worst. A single stroke of Fate would determine whether years of research would be rewarded with career advancement or consigned to the dustbin.

  Seeing no other possibilities, Khira smoothed the form-fitting, sky-blue silk of her business tunic and strode across the echoing gray granite hall. Because she had been summoned here after hours, the ministry lobby was empty. The sense of being dwarfed by the shadows had the effect of winding up her nerves even more.

  The entry hall alone was the size of a small palace.

  In the silence, the perfectly trimmed ends of her ink-black hair swished against her trousered hips. Her silver brocaded shoes had never been worn before, and the matching briefcase was the pinnacle of style this week. She was as sleek as thirty very expensive minutes with a beauty consultant could make a less-than-fashion-conscious scientist.

  If only those thirty minutes could have cured her anxiety.

  This was Khira’s first invitation to speak to the Ministry of Genetic Science. The forest of towering columns overawed her, gold and jewels spiraling up their height in an imitation of a DNA helix. Rumor had it that the first emperor’s chromosomes had been their model. If that were true, Khira would be interested to examine, and crack, the gemstones’ code. The origins of her people were somewhat lost in the mist. She’d heard things about the early royals that left her curious as to how much tinkering had been done with their genes. Too much, was what graduate students whispered—but only among themselves.

  Knowing she was probably being watched from a dozen spy-holes, Khira thrust her curiosity and her nervousness from her mind. She couldn’t afford to let either emotion stain her aura. Her fellow Yama would have no trouble reading her energy sheath, and such displays of weakness might mean the difference between approval or rejection of her project. She’d come too far and had too much at stake to let anything stop her now.

  Finally, she reached the silver arch the summons had instructed her to approach.

  You are more than your eccentric parents’ daughter, she told herself as the small of her back threatened to break into a sweat. You are the product of a good Yamish education and your own strong Yamish will.

  The aide who guarded the door beneath the arch offered a small but respectful bow. “Please go in, Dr. Forette. The minister awaits.”

  Khira swallowed. The minister? She’d expected an audience with an under-minister at best, or perhaps some subcommittee.

  “Thank you,” she said faintly, and proceeded through the door the aide held open.

  An elegant conference room lay beyond, its square, gilded windows overlooking the Forbidden City’s grand plaza. Outside, large sandstone buildings blushed in the setting sun, a last few streamlined aircars zipping around them toward home. Inside, twelve tiny cameras sat in place of people at a long mahogany table. Every one of the lenses was aimed toward her.

  With a jolt, Khira recognized the one Yama who was there in person. Seated at the table’s head, he had the appearance of a typical inner circle aristocrat: dark-haired, narrow, and very tall. His robes were crimson, with polished sapphires set into their wide green trim. These were the colors of the emperor’s house. This wasn’t simply the minister of genetics; this was the emperor’s minister of all the sciences, the emperor’s favorite brother-in-law.

  Apparently, her little project had elicited more interest than she expected.

  “Your highness,” she gasped, since all the emperor’s in-laws had royal blood. Her own family was barely daimyo—strictly lower upper class. Shaken, her knee hit the granite hard as she dropped into an obeisance.

  “‘Minister’ will do for tonight,” he said with perfect supercilious dryness. He waved her into the seat opposite his.

  She took it as steadily as she could, glad for the length of shining wood between them. “Do you wish to hear a precis of my project, sir?”

  “A brief one.” He nodded at the cameras. “For our guests.”

  She cleared her throat and pushed her new briefcase aside. She needed nothing in it, but it created a good impression. Style mattered in business almost as much keeping one’s composure. Detachment was, after all, her people’s highest ideal.

  “As you know,” she began, willing her nerves to settle, “only about eight percent of our species’ genetic material directs the production of proteins and other body processes. In the past, genetic manipulation
was aimed at that active portion, to correct inborn defects and enhance desirable traits. The remaining 92 percent of our genome was, up until the last century, regarded as ‘nonsense’ DNA and ignored.”

  “But it isn’t nonsense,” said the minister.

  “Not remotely, your…minister. Other researchers besides myself have established that the totality of our DNA forms an organic superconductor that facilitates both the storage and communication of complex biochemical information, on a far higher order than formerly imagined. Now that the special vibrational language that the helix speaks is beginning to be deciphered, we realize that the supposedly nonsensical material may be more powerful than all the rest.

  “I believe it contains, in potentia, the codes for every shape life has taken or ever could. Moreover, once you know its operating language, DNA can be given instructions to recode itself—without the deleterious side effects associated with previous cut-and-paste splicing technology. Gene-splicing defies nature. Gene-modulation simply retunes and reshuffles it.

  “What is unique about my process, which I have tested extensively through computer modeling, is its ability to isolate and activate the codes for specific traits from other species. To create true, functioning chimeras.”

  “Hybrids,” said the minister, as politely as if he hadn’t already read and—she was certain—understood her report. The emperor’s brother-in-law had a reputation for brilliance. “Tell me, can you create these chimeras from any species at all?”

  “Theoretically, yes.” Khira drew and released a breath, calmer now that she was being questioned on topics she knew so well. “I leave the potential benefits for others to determine, but no genetic material need be removed from or added to the host. The dormant traits are simply coaxed into expression from previously unexpressed segments of the chromosomes.”

  The minister tapped his lips with one finger, a sign of high excitement for one of his lofty caste. Khira’s heart thumped faster as he reached into the breast pocket of his crimson robe and removed a small, clear data sphere. With a deft flick of his wrist, he rolled it like a marble down the long table.