Dark Desire After Dark Page 0,29

kept it because he could. The one who controls Tornin controls the kingdom.

Omort desired what was within the castle.

Before written history, Tornin had been constructed around the legendary Well of Souls - to protect that mystickal font of power from sorcerers like Omort. And the rage demons had been dispatched to Tornin to safeguard the stronghold.

Yet they'd never been told exactly what the Well of Souls...did.

"Why are you called rage demons?"

"We get...enraged when we turn demonic. Mindless fury and all that."

"Turn demonic? Like when you fought tonight."

"Yeah, well, that was just a hint." In his fully demonic form, his skin would darken, reddening, while his body grew taller and larger. His fangs would elongate, and his horns would sharpen, reaching their full size. In that state, he could emit a toxin from the ends that could temporarily paralyze even an immortal.

She swallowed. "And how often do you get enraged?"

"It's extremely rare to turn fully. It happens only when a demon's life or the life of one of his family is in jeopardy." Or when he claimed his female for the first time.

"Why is Lorekind hidden from humans?"

"Historically, anytime some faction comes out of the closet, they get slaughtered."

"Like who?"

"For millennia, the witches kept outing themselves - until that last rash of burnings. And all those people in the past who were killed because they were supposedly possessed by demons? They were demons."

"But how do all these beings keep secret from humans?"

"It's easier than you think. We mainly stick to crazy cities, party towns. Most humans assume that anything off is a costume or, these days, part of an MTV prank." He grew more serious. "But every myth is an example of when some Lore creature boned up."

"What would you do if you got pulled over right now? What if you threw on your hat and a cop wanted you to take it off?"

"A lot of demons would run, collect a couple of bullets, then get out of sight to trace."

"Trace? I read about that. It means to teleport?"

He nodded. "But not all demon breeds can do it, and of those that have the potential, they have to work at it to master it."

"I assume you can't since you didn't trace us instead of going through the swamp."

"I used to be able to. For centuries I enjoyed that power. But Omort bound my ability to trace. My brother's as well."

"Will you ever get it back?"

He met her eyes. "As soon as that sword severs his head from his neck, we'll be free."

Cadeon's expression grew sinister, as if he was imagining beheading Omort right at that moment. Then his gaze slid to her, and he seemed to shake himself. "So questions about you now..."

"What do you want to know?"

"How did you find out you were adopted?"

"My adoption was never a secret. My mom used to tell me the story of the day someone left me on their doorstep. She always called me her foundling." Holly smiled softly. "They'd tried for years to get pregnant. When they couldn't and sought an adoption, the parish said my father was too old. And he outlived her."

Though not by much. He'd been so utterly in love with his wife of forty-five years that when they'd lost her to cancer, he'd wanted only to follow her wherever she'd gone. Her parents had had an extraordinary kind of love, the kind that you read about but rarely see.

Had her biological parents experienced it, too?

"I bet you never imagined your real mum as a warrior Valkyrie," he said, taking a deep swallow of Red Bull.

"No, we'd always supposed she was an unwed teenager." An unfamiliar scent hit her, and she sniffed the air. "Are you...tippling? Did you pour alcohol in your drink?"

"Maybe."

"You're drinking and driving!"

"If I were blotto, my reflexes would still be a thousand times better than a human's."

"You curse like a sailor and denigrate women, and now I find out that you drive under the influence." She peered over at the speedometer. "And you do it too fast."

"True, true, true. And you don't live a little, don't get the lead out, and never have fun."

"I do have fun!"

"You wouldn't know fun if it bit you on the ass."

Her chin jutted up. "You think I'm a goody two-shoes, a prude."

"I was going to say preachy tight-ass. But prude might fit. Especially after what Nïx told me about you tonight."

"What did she say?" Holly demanded.

"She said that you're innocent, and not just in body. I'd figured you were definitely