Demon Hunting in Dixie. Lexi George

in the shower, lost her balance, and scrambled to keep a foothold on the slippery tile. She squinted and tried to focus her nearsighted eyes on the new threat. Instead of a soul-sucking fiend, she spied a familiar buttery blob through the glass shower door.

      “Dooley Anne!” Addy clutched her chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack!” She opened the shower door a crack. “Nothing to say for yourself, huh? Good, ’cause you sure had plenty to say a little while ago. I gotta tell you, it seriously freaked me out. I guess that Brand fellow hypnotized me. I mean, it’s not like dogs can talk, right?”

      Dooley wagged her tail in answer and trotted out of the bathroom and into the adjoining bedroom. She sat down near Addy’s queen-size bed, her ears perked at attention and her gaze on something only she could see.

      Addy shut the shower door with a shake of her head. The Lab had an unnerving habit of staring at nothing. “Dooley-vision,” she muttered.

      Her Aunt Muddy said dogs could see things that humans could not, like spirits . . . or demons.

      She shivered, then reached for the bar of soap. As the sponge glided over her wet body, she closed her eyes and allowed the soothing scent of lavender and chamomile to dispel her dark thoughts.

      Brand waved his hand and the dead bolt turned with a satisfying snick. The door to Addy’s house swung open. He frowned. The djegrali could have done the same thing with ease. The woman needed a keeper. He set a number of protective spells around the property’s perimeter to alert him to the demon’s presence and stepped inside the house. He stood in the darkness for a moment, listening. Faint sounds and a sliver of light drew him to the back of the dwelling. Silent as a shadow, he entered the bedroom and looked around. A large bed stood against one wall, the coverlet turned back to reveal green and white linens. Overhead a ceiling fan lazily stirred the air.

      From the adjoining room he heard the unmistakable sound of flowing water. The dog trotted into the bedroom, and Brand mentally kicked himself. He had made himself invisible to humans, but he’d forgotten about the animal. Dooley’s eyes lit up when she saw him. She sprang forward, her ears cocked in recognition. He raised an admonishing finger, and she swallowed her yip of welcome and sat down on the carpet. Wagging her tail, she gave him a doggie grin. Satisfied he had the animal under control, Brand glanced through the open door into the connecting room and received a shock. Addy stared back at him from the other room . . . some kind of bathing chamber, he realized dimly, unable to take his eyes off her. She could not see him—her gaze was on the dog—but he could see her, every delectable inch of her. She was naked, utterly, gloriously naked. The water coursed down her satin skin, and her wet hair hung in damp curls against the nape of her neck. She gave Dooley a nervous look and resumed her bath. Brand eyed her hungrily, drinking in the tantalizing view of her backside. A wave of lust hit him that nearly brought him to his knees. Perhaps Ansgar was right, he thought through a haze of desire. He should have availed himself of a thrall. Such strong emotion could not be productive.

      Addy turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He caught a brief glimpse of damp, gleaming skin.

      “Thanks, hound doggie, for letting in all the cold air,” she scolded, shutting the door.

      Brand closed his eyes, thankful his view of Addy’s lovely body had been blocked. He heard a mechanical whir from behind the closed door. Some kind of grooming apparatus, his muddled brain surmised. Taking a deep breath, he tried to curb his racing pulse. His heartbeat had scarcely slowed when the door to the bathing chamber opened and she stepped into the bedroom. She wore nothing but a towel. Her cap of light brown hair was still slightly damp. He stared at her, transfixed. His traitorous heart thundered as she walked toward him. Somehow, he retained the presence of mind to step out of her way before she bumped into him. He caught a tantalizing whiff of lavender as she sauntered past. The scent shot up his nostrils and straight to his groin. With an effort, he shook himself from his stupor and followed her on silent feet across the room. She stopped before another door, opened it, and disappeared inside. Brand stole forward. Addy stood in the center of some kind of storage room. Garments hung on racks in neat rows, and a large number of drawers marched along the walls on either side. He edged closer. Some of the shelves held an alarming number of shoes.

      Her back to the door, she opened a drawer and retrieved a patch of sheer white cloth. Dangling the scrap of cloth from one finger, she yanked a shapeless piece of gray material out of another drawer. She dropped the towel without warning. Brand’s vision blurred and blood pounded through his veins as Addy wiggled the snippet of cloth up her firm thighs and over her curvaceous rump. He watched, fascinated by the way the filmy material hugged the lush curves of her backside. It was a ridiculous garment, designed to serve little practical purpose other than to inflame the male senses. Brand wanted to run his tongue along the edge of that lacy scrap of nothing and tear it off with his teeth. He swallowed a groan and closed his eyes.

      When he opened them again, she had slipped the gray garment over her head. Oversized and shapeless, the shirt hung to her thighs and covered her backside. His tortured gaze followed her as she strolled back into the bedroom. The thin fabric teased her swaying breasts as she walked. Mercifully, she got into bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin. He took a deep breath, struggling to regain his customary calm. His reaction to this woman was an aberration. He willed his galloping heart to return to its normal rhythm. Now that she was in bed, her delicious form hidden beneath the covers, his raging libido would subside and he could do what he came here to do: kill the djegrali. He exhaled in relief, comforted by the thought.

      His heavy sigh was audible in the quiet room.

      “Who’s there?” Wide eyed, Addy sat up and looked around. She spotted the dog and relaxed against the headboard. “Oh, Dooley, it’s you. Come here, girl.”

      Dooley gave Brand a look that said, Sorry, duty calls, and ambled across the room. The dog shoved her long nose into Addy’s hand.

      “ ’Course it was you, wasn’t it, Doodle Bug?” Addy rubbed the dog’s ears. “I’m being silly, I guess. Truth is I’m still a little freaked out. Things were nuts tonight, you know?” A wave of lust hit Brand at her throaty little chuckle. “Come to think of it, you were a bit on the bizarre-o side yourself this evening, old doggie, old pal. For a while there, you looked like a window display in Skeeter’s Taxidermy Shop. It was creepy, I gotta tell you.” She scowled. “That was Blondy’s fault though. Should have shot him when I had the chance. Such creatures are invariably noisy.” She mimicked Ansgar’s haughty tone. “Jeez, what a pain in the rump. Right, Dooles?”

      The dog gave a sharp bark in answer.

      “Right.” She rubbed the dog’s ears again. “Glad we agree. What say we crash? Old Man Farris’s funeral is tomorrow afternoon, and he’s got a butt-load of relatives. Going to be a big day at the flower shop.”

      With a soft snuffle, Dooley curled up on her dog bed and laid her head on her paws.

      “Good girl,” Addy said.

      With a yawn, she turned off the lamp and settled in the bed. A moment later, the light clicked back on.

      Dooley raised her head and gave her mistress a questioning look.

      “I think I’ll leave the light on,” Addy told the dog. “You know, just for a little while.”

      Brand’s gut clenched when he heard the slight tremor in her voice. She was frightened. The knowledge hit him like a steelclad fist. More shocking still was the overwhelming urge to take her in his arms and comfort her. He ground his teeth, stifling the impulse with an effort. He was a warrior, not a nurse maid. Swallowing a growl of frustration, he retreated to the far side of the room. He needed distance from the female if he was to control these ludicrous whims. He sank to the floor and folded his arms across his chest, his gaze on Addy’s supine form. He was here to protect her. That was all. He could not allow himself to have feelings for her.

      Feelings. He suppressed a snort of derision at the thought. Such a human concept.

      The very idea was laughable or would be if he possessed a sense of humor. But the Dalvahni did not indulge in levity.