Jacob. Jacquelyn Frank
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to control. Usually, Demons would satisfy themselves with each other, but living in tandem with humans as they did, it was far too easy for the mating instinct to be misdirected.
Every year he found himself hunting down the most respected of Elders who were falling prey to this condition. It pained him terribly to see madness on those faces he held esteem for. Or, as in Kane’s case, held love for.
Jacob had never fallen victim to madness himself. Even as a fledgling he’d never weakened to the point of craving a human female. But he had been fledged hundreds of years ago, and there had not been more than six billion humans crowded onto the planet then. Even so, he’d always had a hard time figuring out what the attraction was. Though they looked alike, Demon and humankind were very different on chemical, mental, and intellectual levels. Still, asking a Demon to reason out why he’d be attracted to a weaker being while he or she was in the throes of the impulse was futile. And if he were going to be completely honest with himself, there had been a moment earlier when even he had felt the powerful draw of a soft, warm body and big, beautiful moon-lavender eyes.
Jacob swore softly, running his hand through his hair again as he moved to pour himself a drink. It wasn’t mortal alcohol he reached for, however, it was animal milk—at body warmth, preferably, but room temperature sufficed. Goat’s milk, sheep’s milk, and even other more exotic kinds of milk produced for the young of more unusual animals were intoxicating to Demons somewhat like alcohol was to mortals; the average pasteurized homogenized milk in stores was about as potent as a cup of grape juice, where something like giraffe’s milk would be the equivalent of a strong, exotic brandy. The rest were stronger and weaker depending on the animal and where it was raised, much as a particular winemaker or grape grower could produce something indigenous only to its breed of grapes and its region of growth.
Jacob poured himself a glass of Himalayan goat’s milk and sank down into the depths of an easy chair. He rolled his head around, trying to ease some of the kinks in his neck, mulling over all the same thoughts again, knowing that soon, whether he made sense of things or not, he was going to have to talk to Noah.
“Hello?”
Jacob started at the soft, unsure greeting, lurching to his feet and turning sharply to see Isabella rubbing sleep out of her eyes as she walked heavily down from one step to the next.
Impossible!
He was not able to cast sleep inducements into a person’s mind like Kane could or force them into sleep by draining them of all their energy as Noah could, but he sure as hell knew how to blend potent enough herbs to do the trick. She should have been out for hours!
“Oh, hello,” she said, smiling at him sleepily when she spied him gaping at her from below. “Jacob, right?”
“Right,” he agreed, at a loss to do anything other than respond.
His eyes raked over her as he tried to puzzle a solution, but he only succeeded in reminding himself what a fabulously luscious figure she had. She’d soiled her clothes at the warehouse, so he had stripped her of her jeans, T-shirt, and socks and had clothed her in one of his own shirts. Somehow, seeing her in it, breathing, awake, and vital, made for an alluring visual stimulus. She carried herself in a kittenish sort of way, slow and vulnerable and irresistibly inviting. Her long, black boa of silken hair dipped both outside of and within the collar spread wide over her small shoulders. The deep vee of the shirt beneath her throat, caused by neglected buttons in his earlier haste, allowed space for one long lock of midnight to snake down her breastbone and into the enticing hollow between her breasts. Hers was a breathtaking shape, boasting ample curves for so slight a frame. Gorgeous, full breasts, a drawn-in waist, the curves at her sides set just deep enough to settle both hands within them, fingers spreading out over soft belly or tempting hips or…
Jacob felt his blood surging in hot response to his imagination, his body hardening so unexpectedly and so swiftly that it took his breath away. He turned his head away quickly, tearing his eyes off her and muttering a fiery expletive under his breath. His glass slammed down on the table in front of him and he pressed his hands atop the furniture, as if the feel of the wood could somehow ground him. His hearing, always sensitive, picked up the sound of her body and clothing as she completed her descent into the parlor. Even though she was half a room away, he could track her scent. That clean fragrance had altered, heated by sleep and perfumed by the freshly laundered sheets of his guest room. It reminded him of a sultry summer night, filled with flowers still warmed by daylight, clean damp grasses, and the sweet, delicate musk of a being clearly of the opposite sex.
Fresh, pure, warmly tempting.
And coming closer with every step.
“You should be sleeping,” he said abruptly, feeling her start when he broke the heavy silence of the room.
“I woke up.”
He heard her shrug. It made perfect sense to her and made none to him. She took another step, and another. Jacob was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to call out to Noah. It was such an absurd impulse that he almost laughed at it. Such a summons was unprecedented, and it would very likely bring the King down on them with both proverbial barrels blazing since Jacob was not the type to ever need help, never mind call for it. But who, he wondered in a moment’s panic as her nearing heat began to assault him, who enforces the Enforcer?
No! Damn it! You are stronger than some slip of a human female! She is not even doing anything! Jacob would not let the madness of that accursed moon get the better of him. He had never lost control in his life, and he was not about to start now. He had set a staid example for over four hundred years and he wasn’t going to tarnish such a superlative reputation, not when Demons like Kane so desperately needed his guidance and censure.
With a grim set of his jaw, he turned to face her.
“What am I doing here?” she asked, her long fingers absently reaching to touch one of the many antique knickknacks on the table, softly shaping it, exploring its textures and craftsmanship until she smiled with a delight that lit her eyes an electric purple. She moved on to another, one of his personal favorites in his expansive, lifelong collection. Her eager fingers swept it with fascination and a specificity of touch that enthralled him. “I’m assuming this is your home?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I don’t even remember coming here. It’s quite lovely,” she complimented, her enormous eyes taking in the expansive room and all its rich appointments. “I see you have a thing for antiques.”
He nodded, knowing full well that what she called antiques had been brand new when he had purchased them so many years ago. Of course, there was no sense in telling her that, so he remained silent.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” she asked offhandedly as she reached for a tiny wooden figurine that she would never realize had been carved by a woman in a long-extinct African tribe hundreds of years ago, shined and mellowed with the woman’s spittle and painstaking rubbing. “Though after what happened earlier, I can understand not feeling chatty.”
Isabella put down the little wooden figure, moving her light, caressing touch to the next thing and then the next, her sensory curiosity devouring all the curves and textures of his belongings. Her gentle fingers skimmed the high tabletop, heading close to his left hand where it lay slightly curled atop it.
Jacob moved away awkwardly, all of his usual grace evaporating as he took a clumsy backward step to escape the nearness of her. Hell, he thought vehemently, the woman ought to have the sense not to get too close to a male she hardly even knows! Especially a human woman. She had no power, nothing innate to protect herself with, yet here she was, wandering trustingly into his reach.
Then again, she’d just killed one of his kind only a few hours ago.
“I do not mean to come off unfriendly,” he managed with politesse in spite of his turmoil of thoughts. “I am not used to having the company of others is all.”
Well, at least that was the truth.
Isabella tilted her head, causing more of her raven black hair to skid forward, settling