Demon's Kiss Read Online Free PDF Page B

surrounded by a glow of light, or maybe it was coming from him, silver strands of moonlight that fanned out and around him, glittering, liquid, bending and twirling. . . . The sight seemed familiar somehow.
    His face was both magazine-cover perfect and ruthlessly cruel as he stared at the thing that stalked her.
    Demon. He’d called it a demon.
    I want to wake up. I want to wake up. Clea reached down, her hand shaking so badly she could barely make it do her bidding, and she pinched her thigh. Hard. Only she didn’t wake up, and through the open office door she could see that vile gray beast circling, circling, and the man, oh, God, the man just standing there, waiting for it to come.
    Opening her mouth, she tried to call a warning, but panic trapped the words in her throat.
    “Ciarran D’Arbois,” the demon hissed. “You meddle where you have no place, sorcerer.”
    Ciarran D’Arbois . Sorcerer. Clea frowned, chasing a memory, or perhaps a dream, but it eluded her.
    She sank her teeth into her lower lip, choking back a cry as the demon lunged, claws curved and raised in deadly intent, mouth hanging open to bare endless rows of razor-sharp teeth.
    The filaments of light surrounding the sorcerer glowed stronger, rippling as he stepped aside, a fluid movement of grace and speed.
    “You think to stop me?” The demon laughed, the sound soggy and loose, like a beast slurping at a carcass. “The conduit must be returned to the gate. Tonight, the great master of us all, the Solitary, comes.”
    “The great master of us all?” Ciarran laughed, a low, menacing chuckle. “Not my master.”
    Lashing out, the demon raked the tip of one claw along Ciarran’s arm, cutting through leather and cloth, leaving a thick line of red, red blood that welled and dripped to the floor.
    He was injured. Bleeding. Clea stared at the blood. Terror surged inside her, escaping in a short, sharp cry as the thing lunged once more. And still Clea couldn’t make herself look away, uncertain if it was worse to watch or to hide, not knowing what was to come.
    She thought of the Discovery Channel special about the sharks. Of the way the shark’s teeth tore through flesh and bone. This thing, this demon , would do that to this man, Ciarran, this beautiful, terrifying man who was about to be killed in front of her.
    And then the demon would kill her , make her bleed just like Ciarran . . . oceans of blood. . . .
    RunawayRunawayRunaway . . . Only she couldn’t. Her legs were like noodles, and she couldn’t make them bear her weight as she tried to stand.
    Besides, the guy had come to save her. She hoped. The least she could do was watch his back.
    With her gold-leaf letter opener.
    Because it seemed that the power inside her that had saved her butt more than once over the years was definitely not making an appearance tonight. With a hiss of frustration, she closed her fingers tightly around the edge of the desk.
    “Tell me you aren’t so brain-dead that you think I’ll let the Solitary pass the gate.” Ciarran smiled, a curving of masculine lips that held far more threat than humor. He didn’t even glance at the nasty gash on his arm.
    “You cannot stop it, sorcerer.” The demon’s head swiveled, and it pinned Clea with its burning gaze. “ This conduit is strong, stronger than any that has come before, laced with your magic.” The demon laughed again. “And for that, I thank you.”
    Ciarran shook his head. And then he moved. At least, Clea thought he moved. Suddenly, the lobby was full of glittering, sharp-edged strands that swelled and swayed with lethal beauty, catching the demon about its arms, its legs, its throat.
    Filaments of woven light.
    A light very much like the one she had tried to call forth, only bigger, brighter, stronger. Controlled. She blinked. Ciarran could channel the power. It didn’t rush out of him in a stuttering unrestrained burst, the way it did from her.
    His light, his power, flowed and danced.
    It was