“Hey, baby.”
The catcall drifted across the breeze along with a vile stench. As her nose wrinkled in protest, her head turned to find the heckler. Some were easily ignored, others bolder. She needed to know which class of annoyance this guy was.
She found him sitting in the sand on a black towel, his legs stretched out before him, propped up by canted arms. He was fair haired and blue eyed, and sported arms sleeved in tattoos. His face bore a foreign cast, and his irises were hard and glittered like sapphires. He wore only makeshift shorts cut off crudely below the knee and a leer that made her skin crawl.
“Come sit with me,” he cajoled in a gutturally accented voice. He patted the spot next to him in a gesture that was anything but inviting. An indigo teardrop stained the skin at the corner of his eye, distinguishing him as a felon. She was about to look away when he flicked his tongue at her in a lewd gesture.
“Jesus!” she cried, stumbling backward into the lapping water. She was so horrified by the impossibly long and slender forked appendage that had slithered out of his mouth, she barely registered the mark burning her deltoid in chastisement.
A red slash appeared across the demon’s face and he hissed like the snake his tongue resembled. “Du Miststück!” he spat.
She had no idea what that meant, but it didn’t sound good.
As he leaped to his feet, Eve sidestepped to avoid him. “Stay away from me.”
“Make me.”
The menacing tone with which the words were spoken made her hackles rise. It also sent a surge of heat and animosity through her veins. “Christ, you’re a real piece of work.”
His head jerked to the side as if struck, and when he looked at her again, his eyes were unnatural. Brilliant and intensely, inhumanly blue. He lunged. She shrieked and pivoted to run, crashing into something warm and rock-hard.
“Leave her alone,” a dark voice warned. Masculine arms wrapped around her and Eve struggled briefly before absorbing the familiar scent of his skin into her lungs. It was heaven compared to the stench in the air and she gulped with relief.
“Reed.” Her hands fisted in his expensive dress shirt.
“You can’t intercede,” her tormenter said smugly.
“You’d risk the wrath of your brethren for her?” Reed asked.
“She cut me first.”
“I did no—” Eve began, only to find her face pressed brutally into Reed’s chest. She briefly considered biting him, but her overactive libido kicked in with a vengeance, mingling with the hair-trigger aggressiveness pumping from the throbbing mark. It was like PMS multiplied by a million.
“She was toying with you,” Reed drawled. “Assuming you were big enough to take it.”
“Is she big enough to take it?”
“Can you take me?” Reed retorted. “You’re not in the queue; I’m not barred from stepping in.”
A stream of unintelligible words that sounded German poured from her antagonist, and Eve wrenched free to face him. She could feel the evil radiating off him, and his tattoos writhed sinuously over his unmoving skin, as if they were alive.
Wondering if she was the only one aware of the man, her gaze surveyed the area around them. The proliferation of beachgoers hadn’t diminished, yet no one paid any attention to the tense scene taking place in their midst.
Reed’s hand settled at the small of her back, giving her much needed support in a madly spinning world.
“Go away,” Reed said. “Let’s just forget this happened.”
“I won’t forget.” The man crossed his arms. “We’ll meet again,” he told Eve.
“You cross that line,” Reed warned, “and you’ll start a war none of us wants.”
“You don’t want it.”
Eve’s gaze shot back and forth between the two bristling men, trying to grasp the undercurrent arcing between them. They were doing some kind of manly staring thing, then the blond sank back onto his towel and sprawled in a pose so relaxed it was clearly meant to insult.
You’re no threat to me, his posture said.
Reed exhaled slowly and carefully, deliberately stemming his rising ire. Backing down from a challenge wasn’t in his nature, but he didn’t have a choice. Any offensive move on his part would put the blame for this unauthorized confrontation firmly on his shoulders. He didn’t need any more heat right now, not after the upbraiding he’d endured for his most recent fight with Cain.
Cain the hero. Cain the fearless. Cain the invincible. No matter how often he broke the rules, Cain always emerged unscathed, his reputation strengthened by his sheer audacity.
Now Cain had been given his heart’s desire and Reed’s sampling of her charms was rebuked, his protestations of her willingness disregarded. He, who had always toed the line without question, had rarely been given anything he truly desired.
Hands off Evangeline, he’d been told.
Tightening his jaw, Reed reached for Eve’s elbow and pulled her away. Damned if he would toe the line in this. If he had to reap his own rewards, he’d start with her.
“What the hell is going on?” Eve queried on a hiss of breath.
“A major fuck-up,” he snapped. “Where’s Cain?”
“Sleeping. And why do you two have different names? It’s confusing.”
“Eventually, you will have to change names, too. It looks suspicious if you don’t die.”
“Screw that.”
He led her up the beach. At the last minute, he directed her toward the patio of a Mexican restaurant and cantina. Festive music blared from hidden speakers and the spice-laden scent of food teased his nostrils. He heard Eve’s stomach growl and shook his head. “You haven’t eaten?”
“I haven’t thought about it. By the way, I don’t have any cash and the patio is closed to noncustomers.”
He shot her an arch glance. “I don’t expect my dates to pay when they’re with me.”
“This is a date?”
“It is now.”
“I’m not feeling it. Not after that creep on the beach.”
“He was a Nix,” Reed corrected. “And you need to watch your mouth. If I hadn’t shown up when I did, you’d be dead right now.”
“I didn’t say anything!” Eve sank into the plastic patio chair he pulled out for her. Their table was in the corner formed by two Plexiglas panels. It afforded them a view of the beach while shielding their food from the ocean breeze and sand.
“You used the Lord’s name,” he explained, taking the chair opposite her. “It’s a weapon against demons. Rarely deadly but always painful.”
“How the hell was I supposed to know that? He was heckling me. If he’d left me alone, none of that would have happened.”
“You’re ripe for the picking. An untried, clueless Mark. I could kill Cain for falling asleep on the job.”
He snorted. “Irresponsible, as usual.”
“What’s a Nix?”
He noticed she chose to ignore the dig about Cain, and he smiled inwardly. The first time he saw her, Eve had been dressed for business. Her unbound hair had been the only hint of softness about her. Her “look but don’t touch” air had stirred him, but it was the moment their eyes met that his interest went beyond merely pissing off Cain. Whoever said Asian women were shy and reserved had been smoking something at the time.
“A water demon.” Reed gestured to a waiter. “The Nix used to be concentrated in Eu rope, but they’ve since spread to most coastal cities.”
“He didn’t look like a demon,” she muttered.
“What does a demon look like?”
“Not like that. Aside from the freaky tattoos, he reminded me of a ski instructor, like he should be wearing a turtleneck and sitting near a stone fireplace at a lodge.”
“You’ve got a vivid imagination.” His mouth curved. “But those weren’t tattoos. They were details—markings that tell us about his affiliations and his status within those affiliations.”
“Like gang markings?”
“Exactly. Even in Hell there’s a hierarchy and it’s constantly under threat by warring factions. Infernals most likely passed on the practice of marking symbols into flesh to mortals.” Reed looked at the approaching waiter, a young Latino wearing Oakley shades, hoop earings, and an El Gordito apron tied around his jeans-covered hips. “Two Modelos,” he ordered.
“And two shots of tequila,” Eve added.
“That’s not going—”
“To get me buzzed? I don’t care.” She managed a brief smile at the waiter. “And a taco plate, please. With lots of salsa. The hot kind.”
“Make that two,” Reed said.
Eve waited until they were alone again before speaking. “The guy’s details were moving. Writhing.”
“He was trying to intimidate you.” And it hadn’t worked well, something Reed noted and admired. “Infernals can move them at will, and only others of their kind and Marks can see the show.”
“That’s why no one paid much attention to him on the beach?”
“Exactly. Some Infernals prefer to keep their details as visible as possible, especially if they’re higher ranking. Others prefer to keep them out of sight to maintain a low profile. They can’t remove them, but they can put them in places no one wants to look.” He shrugged elegantly. “Pointless, really, because they stink so bad you can smell them coming. And when their number’s up, it’s up. Hidden details or not, once they’re in the queue, it’s only a matter of time.”
“Is that what that smell was? It reeked like a sewer.”
“Rotting soul. You can’t miss it.”
Her eyes widened with such horror, Reed felt a sharp tinge of sympathy . . . even as he appreciated how her inevitable resentment would create a rift between her and Cain.
Eve leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table and staring at him with a grimly determined gaze. “How do I get out of this gig?”