Demon Hunting in Dixie. Lexi George

as need be. The Dalvahni did not feel. There was no place for emotion.

      Brand shifted in sudden unease. A Dalvahni warrior did not lie, even to himself. Something had happened to him when he encountered this female.

      He felt.

      Some of the emotions he recognized. Lust, for example; the Dalvahni knew well the sharp claws of desire, especially in the wake of battle. Thus the need for the thralls, although never to this degree, and never in combination with other more dangerous emotions . . . such as the odd sensation he experienced earlier this evening when he realized Ansgar also found the human female desirable. It was as if a demon had taken residence in his chest and tried to claw its way out. He wanted to howl with rage and tear the other man limb from limb. Ansgar, a brother warrior!

      Most unsettling.

      He scowled. And then there was the pleasurable sensation he felt when the woman said and did certain things, a lightness that rose up inside him and made him want to smile. What was that? And what name did one attach to the desire he’d experienced a moment before when he sensed her fear and wanted to hold her?

      He was a warrior, a man renowned among a stoic race for self-restraint. Yet in the space of an evening, thousands of years of self-control had been decimated by one maddeningly unpredictable female. The woman had to be a sorceress, her enchantment magic of the most powerful kind. She was dangerous, more dangerous than a hundred demons. If he knew what was good for him, he would hunt down the demon and leave this place.

      If he knew what was good for him.

      Chapter Three

      Brand closed his eyes and recited the creed engraved on the walls of the Hall of Warriors. We are the Dalvahni. We seek the djegrali through space and time. We do not tire. We do not fail. We hunt.

      He faltered, the familiar words wiped from his mind by a soft rustling movement across the room. No matter how hard he concentrated, he could not ignore the woman in the bed. Once she’d fallen asleep, he turned out the light, thinking the darkness would be his ally. Wrong. Her scent filled the air. He heard each breath she took. The whisper of her smooth skin against the sheets, her gentle sighs in her sleep played like a siren’s song upon his tortured nerves, luring him to his doom. Again and again his unwilling feet carried him to the bed. He stood over her and watched her sleep, trembling with need. Each time, sanity returned, and he retreated to the far side of the room. No battle he ever fought had left him so exhausted. He had been in a fever of lust for hours, imagining his limbs tangled with hers, his tongue laving her pebbled nipples, his hardness thrusting into her silken heat. The heated images left him sweaty and shaken, filled with longing for a dawn that would not come. Never had he imagined such agony.

      Never had he felt so alive.

      He rose and strode to the window to look out. Not long until dawn. The knot in his belly eased. The longest night of his very long existence was almost over. At daybreak he would resume the hunt. He would find the djegrali, slay it, and depart this place. He would repair to the Hall of Warriors and slake his desire upon a thrall. He glanced down at the bulge in his leather breeches. Two thralls, maybe three. He would not think of the human female again. He would forget the uncomfortable emotions she evoked, return to the familiar emptiness. He would avoid Earth for a few hundred cycles. He would forget.

      He was Dalvahni . . . He would forget.

      With a muffled grunt of impatience, Addy rolled over. Brand froze at the window, his back to the bed. The soft swoosh of the blankets told him she’d thrown off the covers. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He would not look. Sweat beaded on his forehead with the effort not to turn his head. His neck muscles moved of their own accord. He opened his eyes and saw her. She lay on her side, her long legs bared to his perusal, the gray garment bunched around her waist. His gaze roamed up the firm curves of her calves and thighs and stopped. The ridiculous snippet of cloth she wore over her heart-shaped ass had ridden up on one side, exposing the bottom half of a lusciously rounded buttock. All the blood drained from his head and went straight to his groin. With a groan of defeat, he moved toward the bed.

      The mattress dipped. Addy stirred and opened her eyes.

      “You.” She gave the man lying beside her on the bed a sleepy smile. “I thought I told you to beat it.”

      “So, you did. I came back.”

      His voice was a deep sexy rumble. Hot damn, this was going to be good.

      She scooted closer. “So, what are you waiting for? Get on with it.” “Get on with what?” he said, looking confused. He was a looker, and no doubt, this figment of her imagination, but not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

      “The sex,” Addy said with a trace of impatience. Good grief, was this stuff as hard for other people? “Wish fulfillment. That’s what sex dreams are about, right? Let’s get on with it.”

      “Very well,” he said and reached for her.

      His hands were warm and callused. Strong hands, a warrior’s hands. They caressed Addy’s thighs and slid inside her panties to stroke and knead her bottom.

      “Now this is more like it,” she said with a contented sigh.

      “Indeed?” he murmured against her ear. “It gives you pleasure, little one?”

      “Oh, yeah.” Addy pulled her T-shirt over her head and tossed it aside, leaving her naked but for her panties. “And Mama wants more. A lot more.”

      “Mama?” he said, quirking a brow.

      “Just go with it.” Waving her hands, she indicated her scantily clad form. “Unless you want to spoil the mood?” “I, most decidedly, do not.”

      Bending his head, he licked the tip of one breast and then the other. Yassss, Addy wanted to shout, shivering in delight as cool air drifted across the wet buds. Could she dream or what? She stretched, eagerly seeking more. His hot, wet mouth fastened on one nipple and then the other, suckling. She closed her eyes, heat flaring in her belly and between her legs. This was wonderful, sinful. Did she have an imagination or what?

      She opened her eyes. No, truthfully, she did not. Her imagination was nowhere near this good. Not even in the ballpark, which meant . . .

      This was not a dream. Shock washed over her.

      “Son-of-a-bitch,” she said, smacking him upside the head with all her strength. Her arm slammed into solid, unyielding flesh. “Ouch.” Glaring at him, she rubbed her arm. “That hurt.”

      “You have harmed yourself?” He reached for her with a frown. “This I cannot allow.”

      Addy scrambled off the bed, her arms crossed over her naked breasts. “Allow? I’ll tell you what’s not allowed. You’re not allowed in my house! I told you to get out. How the hell did you get back in here?”

      “Through the door of this domicile in the usual manner of your species.” He rose and stalked her around the room. “I found it pitifully easy to breach your defenses.”

      In more ways than one, Addy thought, her cheeks growing hot at the thought of her wanton behavior. She’d acted like a floozy.

      “Oh, yeah?” she said, glowering at him. “I don’t remember asking you to protect me.”

      He backed her against a wall. “It is my duty, in case the djegrali returns.”

      “Are you telling me you’ve been here all night?”

      “All. Night.” He placed his fingertips against her jaw and gently tilted her chin. “I watched you sleep, counted your every breath.” Startled, she lifted her gaze to his. His green eyes were troubled. “In the lonely darkness I sat, listening to the silken whisper of your hair across the pillow whenever you stirred.” His thumb grazed her lower lip. “I ached for you throughout the endless hours of the night, imagining your touch, the sweet delight of your lips upon my flesh.” He lowered his head, his lips grazing hers. “I