**Excerpt**Demon Bound**Excerpt**

I told you Demon Bound was amazing, but I didn’t want you to have to take my word for it. Read the following and then try to tell me you don’t want to read it yourself.

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He was the damn cowardly lion.

Jake slumped in his chair and watched the foam on his beer dissolve. Now and then, he felt the concern of the others around the table, but their chatter went over him.

He’d leapt to Seattle—but he couldn’t get his flippin’ head out of Kansas.

Of all places, the Hopewell farm. The silo and barn that had been behind the house were gone now, but he couldn’t mistake that tractor. He and Billy Hopewell had tinkered with that thing and ridden it around the Hopewell fields—down the roads, through town—too many times.

But the car had been Jake’s. Cherry, back in the day, and he’d lost count of how many bales he’d tossed, how much slop he’d waded through to buy it.

A piece of shit now.

And the woman he’d heard inside that house…

God damn. Nineteen years he’d tried to get out of that town. It just wasn’t fucking right for his Gift to send him back now, when there was nothing he could do for anyone he’d left behind.

“Jake.” Charlie scooted her chair closer to his and leaned in. When she spoke in a whisper, the rasp in her voice all but disappeared. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He sat up straight, scrubbed his hand over his face. He was such a dick. “Just one too many jumps today.”

She smiled and squeezed his hand before turning back to the table.

Jake picked up his beer. Drifter was a lucky, lucky man. Charlie was the kind of girl you took home to Mom—if Mom was the kind to appreciate a girl with fangs, cold skin, and whose right jab could knock a Guardian’s tooth loose.

Strange, then, that it’d been a while since Jake had wondered what she looked like naked.

Was it just that she’d been away from Seattle these past two months? Just for the hell of it, he imagined undressing her, and mentally covered her up again an instant later.

Jesus. If he’d had a sister, Jake thought that was pretty much what taking a peek at her would have felt like.

And Selah, sitting on the other side of Charlie, was out, too. God knew she had a body worth stripping—but with her light blond hair and flawless face, she actually looked like an angel.

She’d also assisted Hugh in mentoring Jake when he’d first come to Caelum—and as the only other Guardian besides Michael who teleported, Selah constantly gave him pointers, helping him get a handle on his jumps. It’d be like turning his Sunday school teacher upside down to see if her skirt went up.

Then there was her partner, Lucas Marsden. The vampire was all right, but Jake could happily live the rest of his life without imagining any guy naked.

Selah suddenly laughed at the vampire, who was shaking his head in embarrassment. Jake finally tuned in, and realized that Charlie was halfway through a story. In Charlie’s hands, what had probably been a mildly amusing exchange became an epic encounter, with Marsden heroically resisting a geriatric vamp’s increasingly desperate attempts to sex him up beneath a spotlight.

The last two months, Charlie had been learning the ropes at Marsden’s theater in preparation for opening a similar theater for the Seattle vampire community. Chances were, she had many years’ worth of these stories now.

And he’d probably feel more like laughing at them later. Jake finished his beer just as she wound up her tale, and used his empty glass as a non-dick reason to get up and head to the bar.

Old Matthew Cole didn’t need to ask his preference. A new beer was in front of Jake almost before he slid onto the bar stool.

Jake took a deep swallow. It didn’t do anything for him—and he’d have sworn beer tasted better when he’d been human.

But even though they didn’t need to eat or drink, Cole’s bar had become the unofficial gathering place for Guardians and vampires in Seattle. Ordering helped them fit in with the humans, and made sure that Old Matthew wasn’t stiffed for his hospitality—not to mention his silence about their true nature.

But then, Old Matthew probably enjoyed flipping the bird to whatever authority he thought might take exception to their existence.

Jake watched the old man make change at the register, then glanced in the mirror behind the shelves of bottles. Shit. The “old man” was his age. And it was possible the only reason Old Matthew wasn’t sitting in Jake’s place was that instead of being drafted, he’d been in prison—making time for murders he hadn’t committed.

From the direction of the table, Jake heard a chair scrape, and he tracked Charlie’s approach in the mirror. She was already smiling at Old Matthew, and his dark face wrinkled when he grinned in response.

“You come on back here, Charlie girl.”

“I thought I quit,” she said, but she rounded the bar, and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You’re going to make me work?”

“Well, now that you mention it, I could use five. Robbie called in sick.”

“I can give you more than five if you need it.”

“Not at your own to-do. And not when your man isn’t here. You got trouble tonight, Charlie?”

“I hope not.” She tied on the apron Old Matthew gave her. “Cora and Angie called when we were on our way over here. They found a vampire ashed up in the University District, and the partner was missing. The partners hated each other, so it might have just been a fight and she took off, but…” Her shrug hid the worry from Old Matthew, but Jake could feel it in her psychic scent. “They’ve got to check.”

One nephil had moved into Seattle last spring and picked off the leaders of the vampire community. Drifter had managed to slay the nephil, preventing the full-scale vampire massacre that had followed similar assassinations in other cities—but there was no way of knowing if the nephilim intended to move against Seattle again.

Cora and Angie were the Seattle community’s new heads, and the probable targets if the nephilim’s MO held—but Drifter made a point to investigate any unusual vampire death, and rule out nephilim involvement.

“Golly gee,” Jake said. “I bet Drifter’s having a great time.”

Charlie rolled her eyes, but her worry faded. “And I bet you’re glad you got in too late to go with him.”

“You’d win that bet.” Cora and Angie required more patience than Jake had in supply.

“I thought you came in with Alice, Jake.” Old Matthew looked over at the table. “Did you lose her?”

Charlie answered for him. “When Irena showed, they went over to the theater. They haven’t seen it since we’ve started remodeling.”

“I’ll tell you, Charlie girl—I sure am looking forward to you opening up. We didn’t get many coming over from the theater before, but it’s been feeling quieter in here since they closed.”

Jake grimaced, and slid a stack of fives across the bar. Old Matthew began to frown at him, but nodded when Jake said, “The money talk reminded me. It’s to cover Alice’s bill. Whatever she drinks or eats.”

Charlie clubbed her hay-colored hair into a long ponytail. “What did you say to her?”

“Something stupid.”

Old Matthew fanned the money. “Son, that’s a lot of stupid.”

“Yeah. Well, part of it is an advance payment.”

The bartender laughed and turned toward the employees’ door. Charlie stepped out of his way, then grinned at Jake, the tips of her fangs barely visible.

Jake had been responsible for those fangs. Charlie hadn’t wanted them—but he’d failed to protect her. And because she hadn’t been willing, the transformation had almost killed her.

Her smile faded. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” He set his beer down, faced her squarely. “I told you I was sorry, right? For letting Sammael get to you.”

“Only about twenty or thirty times.” She leaned in and her tone softened. “Jake, he unloaded six bullets into your head. But you still managed to teleport, and send Ethan after me.”

His first jump, and how he’d discovered his Gift. With his brain shot to pieces, it’d been pure fear and instinct. Not exactly the stuff of heroes.

“As far as I’m concerned, you don’t have much to be sorry about.” She arched her brows. “But if you’re feeling guilty, there is one thing you can do to make it up to me.”

Jake eyed her warily, not trusting the laughter in her voice. “What?”

“Just hold still.”

He did, then had to chuckle when she began rubbing her hands all over his head.

“God. I’ve wanted to do that since I met you,” she said when she finished. “And Jake—you know more than anyone that everything’s good with me. Better than ever. So if you’re going to beat yourself up over something, don’t pick that.”

“All right. I’ve got more to pick from anyway.” But he grinned. “I know I haven’t told you that you’re just all-around swell, Charlie.”

She snorted out a laugh. “Don’t,” she said. “That ‘swell’ shit and ‘golly gee’ crap just isn’t playing fair. And…and…”

Her gaze shifted beyond him, and Jake didn’t need to see Drifter in the mirror to know the Guardian had entered the restaurant.

Charlie sighed. “I can’t even remember what I was saying.”

Neither could Jake. Drifter must have stopped by the theater first, because Alice and Irena came in with him. And Jake couldn’t miss the pair of human women who sniggered into their hands as Alice passed them.

“Jake.” Charlie gripped his arm before he could stand.

He glanced at her, his jaw tight.

I’d be over there, too, if she cared what anyone thought of her, Charlie gestured slowly. He and Drifter had been teaching her the sign language since she’d been transformed, but two months focusing on the theater had put her out of practice. But Alice doesn’t care. At all.

“How do you know?”

She told me. It happened before—a vampire who didn’t realize she wasn’t human, and could hear. I almost went over the bar for it, but Alice stopped me. Charlie paused. Of course, if I could shape-shift, I’d be turning into Mr. Sexy, strutting past them, and laying one on her.

That sounds great, Charlie—except for the “laying one on her” part.

She covered her mouth again, laughing. “Ethan told me that you, uh—”

“Yeah.”

In the mirror, Drifter was pulling out Alice’s chair. Already seated, Irena turned and gave the still-sniggering ladies a look. They fell silent.

“Or a Death Stare works, too,” Charlie said.

He watched the reflection a second longer. Alice didn’t appear bothered. How much of that was real?

Maybe you should give her advice, Charlie. On what to wear, at least. Something modern.

She gave him a funny look. You’re kidding, right? Yes, they’re old-fashioned—but gorgeous. The cut, the detailing. I’d kill for any one of them.

Jake frowned. There was more than one dress? They all looked the same to him.

“Men,” Charlie muttered.

Considering she then smiled up at another man, Jake assumed she actually just meant him. But at least he wasn’t paying out money this time.

“Miss Charlie, your city is safe for one more day.” Drifter settled onto the stool next to Jake.

So Jake hadn’t missed anything by showing up late. If it had been the nephilim, he and Drifter—along with the other Guardians here—would have already been headed back out to search for them.

Jake nodded his response, but missed Charlie’s reply; he was distracted by Alice’s voice behind him—telling the others at the table that she’d been mistaken for the Wicked Witch.

He looked into the mirror, surprised. She wasn’t laughing with Marsden and Selah, but her psychic scent rippled with it, warm and dark as velvet.

“Alice mentioned that you took a trip to Oz,” Drifter said quietly. “Is it going to hang on you?”

Drifter knew that Jake had grown up in Kansas, and it probably wasn’t a stretch to guess he’d landed somewhere familiar. But as long as Jake wouldn’t let it affect him out in the field, he knew Drifter wouldn’t pry any deeper.

“Nope.”

“All right, then.” Drifter stood as Old Matthew returned, and Charlie began to clean up.

Jake headed back to the table, took the seat facing Alice. His eyes narrowed.

The dresses were different. Earlier, she’d been wearing a long black thing with tiny buttons up the front. On her current long black thing, the buttons went from her right shoulder up the side of her neck. The sleeves hugged her arms to just below her knuckles, and more buttons ran from her wrists to her pointy elbows. The top might have fit like a second skin, but all of those vertical seams made it look as rigid as body armor.

So it was still like something from a Victorian funeral parlor. And Jake was sure that her spider was hiding somewhere in those loose skirts.

Charlie leaned over the table in front of him. “Irena—your water. Food is coming up. Alice.” Charlie set a glass of wine in front of her. “This is on Jake.”

“On Jake—?” A startled look passed over her features before she met his gaze. “Oh. Thank you.”

He shrugged.

Irena pointed at him. “I need someone to please explain this wicked witch. They will not.”

A man didn’t argue with a woman who smelled like blood. Or one who wore a poncho made out of fur that she probably wrestled off a polar bear.

Most Guardians created their clothes just by thinking of them—but Jake wouldn’t have bet against Irena’s being real. “If you open up a little, I’ll project it to you.”

She hesitated before nodding. Jake focused on a few remembered images from the movie. After a second, Irena looked to Alice. “Flying monkeys?”

This time, it was Alice who shrugged. “That seems accurate.”

“We need to have a movie night,” Charlie said as she took the seat next to Drifter. “We’ll set it up at my place.” She glanced at Jake. “Maybe Pim and Becca would like to come up from San Francisco.”

“Yeah. They probably would.” The movie wouldn’t be a novelty for the other novices, but going anywhere but Caelum or the Special Investigations warehouse would be.

He looked up, spotted the bronzed-skinned Guardian walking into the lounge wearing a pair of loose pants and a button-down shirt, his black hair shorn almost as short as Jake’s. The Doyen.

Jake nodded a greeting, got a nod in return.

Charlie went over to Michael with a wide smile before going up on her toes to kiss his cheek. The Guardian had to bend down—though not as much as when she kissed Drifter. “Michael.”

Alice paused for an infinitesimal second with her wineglass at her lips. No wonder. The Doyen was even less sociable than the Black Widow was; but considering that Michael and Charlie had had some connection when they’d jumped to Hell the last spring, Jake wasn’t completely surprised.

He was surprised by the way Michael seemed to avoid looking at Alice. Not ignoring her, exactly—but when he said his greetings, he moved a little faster past her than he did everyone else.

Finally, he looked at Charlie again. “Your sister is well?”

It wasn’t, Jake knew, just a polite question. Charlie’s sister, Jane, was engaged to the demon Sammael. No one at the table had slain him yet—and thanks to a bargain, Drifter couldn’t slay him—primarily because the demon was also bound to leave any Guardians that Charlie cared about alone.

But since Sammael also headed Legion Laboratories, and the organization protected and employed many of Belial’s demons, Michael kept tabs on Jane.

Charlie gave a half smile, and shrugged. “She’s all right. You know.”

Yeah. Way to bring a girl down at her party. At least he wasn’t the only dick, then.

Michael smiled slightly. “I do. I’ve brought this for you.”

At first Jake thought it was a Scroll—one of the texts from the Caelum archives. But it was a rolled-up sheet of music, instead. An original composition of some kind—and by a guy Jake hadn’t heard of but who was apparently good enough that Charlie was half in tears.

Okay, so he was still the only dick.

Alice was smiling, too, until she looked from Charlie to the Doyen. “Michael,” she said, and her lips firmed, her spine stiffened. “I fear the Marrakech Gate might have been found out.”

He inclined his head. “I will warn the others.”

“And,” she said in a lower tone, “I have been contacted by one of Belial’s demons. It would be useful to me if I could learn more about the prophecy.”

“I see.” He looked to Drifter. “If you have anything more to share with Alice, you may feel free to do so.”

“All right,” Drifter said, frowning a little at her.

“Thank you. I must go; I wish you all well. Charlie, congratulations.” Michael turned and left, and a moment later Jake felt the light touch of the Doyen’s teleporting Gift.

Jake resisted the urge to shake his head. The Doyen made jumping look easy, but he was God-knew-how-old.

“Count me in on that movie night—and I’ll bring the novices up from San Francisco,” Selah said, rising from her chair. “Lucas and I have to go as well, Charlie. Does anyone need a ride?”

Irena shook her head. Alice looked to Jake.

“May I impose on you after I speak with Ethan?”

“Bumpy,” he reminded her.

Selah’s cupid’s-bow mouth curved. “It might help if you teleported with your eyes open.”

“I do—so that I can see what’s coming at me. They’re just closed when I land.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t be so quick to leap,” Alice said in the prim tone that made the back of his neck tighten, “if you are not prepared to face the consequences of it.”

For some reason, Drifter and Selah both grinned. Jake did, too, but his showed more teeth. “Golly gee, Alice, I’ve never thought of it that way before. That’ll change everything for me.”

“How fortunate that I am here, then.”

“Oh, yes. With words of wisdom like that, you’d have made one hell of a—” He bit it off. Not mentor. He wouldn’t go there.

She raised her eyebrows.

“Paratroop instructor,” he finished. Fucking stupid.

“Oh, dear. Leaping from an airplane? How unseemly. My skirt might blow up over my knees.” With that, she dismissed him, turning to Marsden and Selah.

Jake watched her, tried not to picture her spindly legs sticking out from billowing black fabric. Maybe they weren’t bony, though—when she’d been fighting, a ballerina couldn’t have matched her grace. Instead of thin and knobby, her legs might be slim, strong. And her skin would be the same smooth, dusky gold as her hands, her cheeks.

Jesus. He must be crazy, imagining the Black Widow naked. She probably bit off the head of anyone brave enough to get into her bed. A guy would need balls of steel…or no balls to lose. Like a woman—

His gaze moved from Alice to Irena, then back to Alice. And that was enough for his dick to take over, making him desperate to see, to know. He’d have crawled under the table if he thought it’d get him a look at her legs.

Hell, he’d have settled for a glimpse of her flippin’ wrist.

This book is available from Berkley. You can buy it here or here in e-format.

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