Demon Hunting in Dixie. Lexi George

      “The djegrali are demons.” He raised his brows when she gave him a blank stare. “Evil spirits. Creatures of dark—”

      “I know what a demon is.” The guy thought he was a demon chaser, for Pete’s sake. “Okay, just for grins, let’s say this demon business is for real. What’s it got to do with me?”

      “The demon has marked you. He will return. He will be unable to resist.”

      “Oh, great, so now I’m irresistible. Just my luck he’s the wrong kind of guy. Don’t worry, I’ve got a thirty-eight, and like any good Southern girl I know how to use it, so you can leave.” She waved her hand toward the door again. “I’ll be fine. If this demon fellow shows up, I’ll blow his raggedy butt to kingdom come.”

      The corner of his lips twitched, and for a moment she thought he might smile.

      “You cannot kill a djegrali with a mortal weapon.”

      “I’ll rush out first thing tomorrow morning and get me one of those flamey sword things, I promise.”

      Again with the lip twitch. “That will not be necessary. I will protect you.”

      “Oh, no, you won’t!” Addy straightened with an effort. Her chest still hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. “I’d never be able to explain you to my mama.”

      “This mama you speak of, she is the female vessel who bore you?”

      “Yeah, but I wouldn’t call her a vessel to her face, if I were you.”

      “You fear her?”

      Addy rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding? The woman scares the crap out of me. Thirty-two hours of labor, and don’t you ever forget it,” she mimicked. “You owe me. Big time.”

      The eye-rolling thing was a mistake, because the room started to spin again.

      “The mama will not be a problem,” he said.

      “You’re darn tootin’ the mama won’t be a problem, ’cause you’re not going to be here!”

      She stepped away from the couch, and her knees buckled.

      One moment he was across the room, his shoulder against the wall, the picture of aloof boredom, and the next she was in his arms. She closed her eyes and swallowed a sigh as she was lifted against his hard chest. The man sure had muscles, she’d give him that.

      “You will recline, at once.” His tone was stern.

      Okay, muscles and a few control issues.

      She opened her eyes as he lowered her to the couch and saw a grimace of pain flash across his features. It was the first expression of any kind she’d seen on his face, unless you counted the lip twitch thing. The man could give a marble statue lessons in being stoic.

      She caught his arm as he started to rise. “That thing hurt you!”

      He stilled, his gaze on her fingers wrapped around his wrist. “You are mistaken. The djegrali did not injure me. It is your touch that disturbs me.”

      Addy stiffened and drew back. “Well, excuse the hell out of me.”

      He caught her by the hand. “You misunderstand. You do not repulse me.”

      He knelt beside her, put his fingers under her chin, and tilted her face with gentle fingers. Addy stifled a gasp. Who was this guy? The merest touch from him and her breasts tingled and she felt hot and wobbly inside. What was the matter with her?

      “Look at me,” he commanded.

      Sweet Sister Ruth, he had a voice like whiskey and smoke. She shivered and raised her eyes to his. He stroked her cheek with his thumb, a rapt expression on his face. His thumb drifted lower to brush her bottom lip. “You must be patient with me, Adara Jean Corwin. The Dalvahni do not experience emotion. It would be superfluous. We exist for one purpose and one purpose alone, to hunt the djegrali. For ten thousand years, that has been my objective, until now.”

      “Ten thousand years, huh?” With an effort, she squelched the sudden urge to scrape the pad of his thumb with her teeth. No doubt about it, she was in hormonal meltdown. “Sounds boring. You need to get a new hobby, expand your horizons.”

      “Earth is but one of the realms where the Dalvahni hunt the djegrali.”

      Oh, brother, too bad. He was paying a visit to schizoid-land again. Then the impact of his words percolated through the fog of lust that set her brain and her body on fire.

      “Hey, wait a minute, I didn’t tell you my name!”

      “The animal you call Dooley informed me of many things, including how to find this dwelling.”

      “You don’t say? Funny, she’s never said a thing to me in four years.”

      He put his hand on her shoulder when she tried to sit up. “You will not rise,” he said with annoying calm.

      “Oh, yeah? That’s what you think, bub.”

      She pushed at his arm, an exercise in futility. The man was built like the proverbial brick outhouse.

      His hand still rested on her shoulder, his thumb lightly tracing the line of her collarbone. A shiver of awareness shot through her. She liked his touch. She liked it too much. This would not do. All her life she’d struggled to control her reckless nature, the wild streak that was Mama’s despair. Think first and feel later. That was her hard-earned mantra, but this guy . . . This guy really got her going. The merest brush of his fingers, and she was ready to throw caution to the winds. She wanted his hands on her, all of her.

      A stranger’s hands. What was happening to her?

      “Dooley, come here,” he said.

      The dog rose and trotted over to the couch.

      “Speak, Dooley,” Brand said, his gaze on Addy’s face.

      “Dooley love Addy. Love, love, love,” the Lab said in the growly voice of a three-pack-a-day smoker. She flung up a back paw to scratch her ear. “Can Dooley have chicken leg in cold box? Can Dooley?” Her head snapped around. “Oh, look, a bug!”

      There was a long moment of silence as Addy gaped at her dog in shock. Slowly, she raised her eyes to Brand’s. “Who are you?”

      A slight crease appeared between Brand’s brows. The expression in his eyes grew puzzled. “Until tonight, I thought I knew.”

      Lowering his dark head, he kissed her.

      Chapter Two

      Never been kissed . . .

      The thought spun through Addy’s mind as Brand’s lips met hers. Lightning streaked along her nerve endings, and her toes curled. Good grief, her toes curled.

      This was beyond absurd. A thousand giddy butterflies did the happy dance inside her stomach, and the man had barely touched her. She was a grown woman. She’d been kissed lots of times. Why . . . ?

      The tip of Brand’s tongue touched the corner of her mouth, and she forgot everything else. He traced a lazy path across her bottom lip, tasting her, his touch leisurely, lingering, as if he wanted to memorize the shape and texture of her mouth.

      Oh, Lord. Addy’s thoughts grew hazy. Maybe she only thought she’d been kissed. Heavens, but the man had a wicked mouth! The glide of his lips across hers was sinful, exquisite. Giving in to the heady temptation, she sighed and kissed him back. Their tongues danced together, warm velvet on warm velvet. She licked his firm bottom lip.

      He groaned and cupped the back of her head in his hands, deepening the kiss. Tearing his mouth from hers, he rained a trail of hot kisses down her throat and across her chest. He paused when he reached the spot where she had been stabbed. He murmured something indistinct and pushed aside the edge of her ruined shirt to lick the dark mark on her breast. Addy gasped and