Demon's Hunger Read Online Free PDF Page A

thirty-five dead women. Murdered women.
    Then she'd gone through the lengthy process of Pape's trial.
    When it was all over, she'd had her first episode , lost twelve hours. A few months later, she'd lost another twelve, and that had been enough motivation to make her arrange for some time off.
    She'd considered several universities for a sabbatical, but in the end, she'd decided to stay right here in her own little house. Read some novels. Enjoy long walks. Maybe take that watercolor course she'd always wanted to. Her year-long break had begun last Monday. Her mother had arrived from the West Coast on Friday. Araminta's timing could not have been worse, but Vivien had only herself to blame for that. Her mother was nothing if not predictable.
    Then last night, Vivien had blacked out for a third time. Lost another twelve hours of her life. Combine that with the feeling that someone was watching her from the shadows, and she was scared. Scared for her grasp on reality. Paranoia was a symptom of numerous conditions, none of them good.
    She studied the guy on her porch, the long black duster, the set of his broad shoulders, the build that the layers of clothing couldn't quite hide. The look on his face clearly stated he wasn't afraid of a damn thing.
    He was watching the trees again, his expression vigilant.
    "Your friends… Ciarran and Darqun, right? Where did they go?"
    "Hunting." Dain smiled, a bare curving of his lips, and turned his face partially toward her.
    "Excuse me?"
    As he quirked one brow, something clicked in her memory, a key turning in a lock. The enigmatic expression, the sexy smile, the three-quarter view of his face, the slightly flamboyant way he dressed; he looked just like every photo of him that she'd ever seen published.
    She gave an incredulous little huff of laughter. "You're Dain Hawkins."
    His smile warmed, as though they shared a secret. "Am I?"
    Vivien shook her head at his tone, realizing that he'd introduced himself already. "No, I mean, I've seen your picture in the paper. You're Dain Hawkins, wonder-guy, a magician when it comes to buying up foundering companies and turning them into moneymakers."
    "Magician." He grimaced, inclined his head. "I prefer sorcerer or mage of illusion !"
    "Oookay. So what's a celebrity doing on my doorstep?" He looked startled by her question, and she clenched her fingers, then forced them straight. "God… sorry… That was rude. My social graces are a little rusty." Stepping back, she held the door. "Would you like to come in?"
    "Thank you." He moved past her, broad shoulders, lean muscle. Her pulse picked up speed. She could smell the scent of his body, clean, masculine, a hint of lime, and it tantalized her, made her want to lean in close and breathe deep, lick his naked skin, sink her teeth into—
    Huh . Okay, she needed to get a grip. This was way outside her norm.
    But he was so hot, and she was… hungry, desperate to touch him, kiss him, rub against him until—
    Her head snapped back, and she found him watching her with the strangest expression, his smile dark, predatory. Like he knew her thoughts… and shared them.

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    Chapter Three
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    Nothing much had changed since New Orleans, Dain thought with a solid dose of self-effacing humor. He was still horny and still in possession of a partially scorched demon bone.
    Only now he wasn't alone.
    Vivien Cairn was with him, and she was staring at his mouth, her gaze intent. She exhaled, harsh, fast, the sound sinking into him, kindling a sharp awareness.
    He cut a quick glance to the shape of her breasts, the hint of taut nipples outlined beneath the fitted black T-shirt. No bra.
    Okay, he probably shouldn't look, but he wasn't a goddamned eunuch. And she was beautiful. Tall, slim. Her ratty, faded jeans hugged her hips and thighs. She had an athlete's build, all sleek, toned muscle, long limbs, amazing brea—
    Don't go there.
    His gaze dropped to her feet. Neon green fuzzy slippers. He