: Chapter 8

The hair on the back of Rök’s neck had stood up a split second before he heard a kid’s laugh. Yet that taunting sound was nothing like the twins’ bubbly giggles.

When Poppy turned down the hallway, he said, “So we’re just going to ignore that laughter?” He opened the closest door.

She sensed the room. “Sometimes I’ll hear the visitors but won’t see them. Maybe I won’t have to tangle with that particular nightmare tonight.”

“

won’t have to.” He checked his mental database of horror movie villains. “So are we talking about a killer doll?”

“Depends. Do you smell corn?”

“No.”

“Then it’s a doll.”

“Fantastic.”

“Things are always fantastic with you.”

He raised his brows. “Better than saying with each of your revelations.”

Instead of taking offense, she nodded as if he’d made a good point.

More laughter sounded. Years ago, he’d overheard humans talking about a killer doll movie. One had commented, “What a demonic little shit.”

Rök recalled being offended.

He’d been tempted to show them his demon self. Now he asked Poppy, “If it shows, how do we kill it? Burn or behead?” He hoped the latter. This dusty carpet could catch fire and spread, and the castle wasn’t exactly filled with emergency exits.

“Sometimes . . . more than one doll shows up.”

“Let me guess: each one has to be killed in a different way?”

“Though this is a new situation for me, my research indicates so. But one of them—Annelise—can’t be killed at all, which is a problem since she’s telekinetic. Just be careful if you see them.”

He opened another door. “If I’m not, I know you’ll protect me, like you did with those skeletons. You cried, ‘I’ll save you!’ and hustled into the fray for me. How adorable was that?”

Her lips quirked.

Imitating her voice, he said, “Never fear, my precious demon! I’ll muster all my magic against these foes to defend you!”

She lost the battle and fully smiled. Spellbinding witch. “You finished?”

“Never.” He leaned in beside her ear and whispered, She laughed, a throaty sound that made him want to rub his horns all over her. “Okay, okay.”

“You pitted me against gremlins, skeletons, and now I might have to face . . .

.”

Her amusement faded. “Don’t underestimate them, Rök.”

“If I get taken out by a doll, then I deserve it, yeah? I’m still waiting for a challenge.” On to the next room . . . “For that matter, if we run into trouble again, save your pouches for your own protection. How many do you have left?”

She’d probably never given an arsenal inventory to another merc before. Indicating a measure of trust, she said, “Two for battle magic and one for a portal.”

That was it? He felt guilty that she’d blown one on the skeletons.

She gazed ahead, so many thoughts going on behind those eyes. Heavy thoughts.

To distract her, he said, “Hey, vampires, werewolves, and witches used to be popular Halloween fodder for mortals. Do you ever get them as visitors? They could give us an actual fight.”

“A few decades ago, I saw a lot of them, but they corresponded more to humans’ ideas of us. Think green-skinned witches, snouty werewolves covered in fur, and caped vamps with chin-length fangs.”

“Demons?”

Her eyes glimmered, his merry witch returned. “Small with pointy tails and pitchforks.”

“Ouch! So your visitors are creatures that humans are myths—except some of them are real? Well, that just complicates the Lore needlessly, no?”

“Keeps things interesting.” Another bright grin. How had he ever considered her looks anything less than exquisite?

The children’s laughter sounded once more, this time accompanied by the eerie tip-tap of little shoes.

The sconce to his right flared; something shifted to his left. He yanked free his sword and pivoted in that direction⁠—

Only to confront his own game face, reflecting back from a large wall mirror.

With a relieved exhalation, he sheathed his blade. “Jump scare, huh?” He admired his reflection and smoothed his hair. “No wonder you can’t keep your eyes off me. Was there ever a more smokin’ smoke demon?”

She snorted. “Your sizable ego must be visible from the Elserealms.”

“Not the only part of me that can make such a claim.” He casually looped his arm around her neck, gazing at her in the mirror. “And you, pretty as a picture.”

Her cheeks heated at the compliment. She seemed to melt against him, just as she’d done in that parking lot.

“Speaking of pictures, do you ever pull up that selfie we took?” He’d sent it to her before she’d blocked him.

Her gaze flicked away. “I kind of deleted it.”

She was telling the truth. “I see.” His shot with her felt more and more distant. Was he not “romantic partner” material? He’d hoped she was different from the females who summoned him over the centuries, the ones who’d dismissed him afterward with all the care they’d give an overworked vibrator. Did Poppy view him the same way? She might’ve gone out with Rök just to scratch an itch.

Maybe she was so hard-core Wiccan that she would never consider a demon for more.

With nothing to lose, he bluffed her: “You deleted the pic because you stared at it as much as I’ve stared at my copy. You scheduled our makeup date on Halloween night so you wouldn’t give in to the urge to meet me.”

“Aww. Poor addled demon. You’re delusional with your advanced age.”

Not a denial. He grasped her hand, marveling anew at her soft skin. “After we took that selfie, we turned toward each other for a kiss, like we’d been together for ages. We both knew we’d kiss. We both knew it’d wreck us. It was as inevitable as dawn. Just like now.”

Her breath hitched.

Dark gods below, he wanted her. “Your last kiss seared me. Left a mark on me forever.” He pressed his lips against her wrist and flicked her pulse point with his tongue, like he’d done on their date.

She watched him with fascination, murmuring, “You are all temptation, aren’t you?”

“I a demon.”

“And in exchange for your protection you only asked for a mere kiss.” She was playing with him, and he was going to let her! “Maybe I could give you a down payment.”

“I should have asked for more.”

“Then earn a tip.”

“Fucking hell, witch, you drive me crazy.” When uncontrollable smoke rose from his body, her heartbeat quickened, a light drum in his ears. “I can hear your reaction to me.”

“I can yours.”

He palmed her nape and dragged her closer. “Because you make me burn.” He covered her lips with his own, savoring her sharp inhalation. He gave her a moment, expecting her to pull away.

He groaned when she didn’t. Cupping her face and tilting his head, he slanted his mouth over hers, delving for her taste. She was confection-sweet, addictive. He flicked her tongue with his, and she moaned as she met him. The entire world coalesced into that contact.

Tongues twining . . . trading moans and groans . . . wrapping his arms around her irresistible body. This kiss wasn’t as good as the night of their date.

He should concentrate on the danger, but demonic drives battled inside him: to protect his mate and to pleasure her. He reached for her hair tie and released it, threading his fingers through those silken locks as he deepened the kiss.

She dug her nails into his back, meeting him stroke for stroke. Lost in this woman, he cupped her breast, thumbing her stiffened nipple, lightly pinching it. Her gasp made his cock surge in his pants. He wanted it buried to the hilt inside her, his female claimed.

Possessiveness seethed within him when his lusty witch writhed to get closer, rubbing her curves against him. The scent of her arousal hit him like a drug.

Gods, she was ready to mate⁠—

A twisting pain zinged him in the side, and he jerked back. “Damn, Red. I’m not down with pinching.” She’d all but torn his skin, cooling his ardor.

She frowned. “I didn’t pinch you.” Her irises glowed even more.

“If you didn’t . . . ?”

Their attention dropped to the bottom corner of the mirror; glassy eyes stared up at them.

Rök tossed Poppy behind him.

Standing in the hall was a porcelain doll with blond ringlets and a frilly dress.

A pent-up laugh escaped him. “A mirror scare, too! Next we’ll meet cave creatures and unearth found footage.”

She moved to his side and whispered, “Oh, Hecate, no. This isn’t funny.”

A walking doll? “It’s a little funny.”

“That’s .”

The doll blinked those glassy eyes at Poppy, then swiveled its head to face Rök.

Just because the situation amused him didn’t mean it couldn’t also be disturbing. “Wiggins activated, huh?”

Poppy grabbed his hand. “Back away. Then .”

“Not a chance. My centuries of Lore cred would get revoked if I run from a toy.”

“She’s not a toy. She’s a demonic entity.”

“So am I.” He winked at Poppy.

“Please, Rök. She’s the telekinetic one.”

“I can lift a building. Her telekinesis can’t outmatch my strength. It’ll take more than this doll to bring me down after all these years. . . .” He sensed a new threat at his back. He yanked Poppy behind him again and whirled around.

Three more dolls stood not ten feet before him. He recognized the maniacal, red-haired one with the long, serrated blade, but not the pair of miniature mannequin-looking things.

He rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for this bullshit, was gaining ground in his mission to win Poppy. Seduction was only the first step.

He brandished his sword and struck with supernatural speed.

His aim was true, yet they’d disappeared.

Laughter and tip-tapping sounded behind him. With Poppy close, he twisted around and found the four dolls lined up, eight creepy eyes staring at him. He lunged and lopped off the head of one of the mannequin dolls. Its weird body collapsed. “One down.”

Yet then it rose. Skipped to its severed head. And it.

“Huh.”

Just as Rök struck again, the Annelise doll raised her arm. The air rippled. He gaped when his feet left the ground; then he and Poppy were launched down the hall.

Annelise slammed them against a far wall, knocking the breath from Poppy’s lungs. The doll pinned her and Rök there like insects.

Poppy’s vision wavered as she struggled.

Annelise could twist their heads off at any time—true immortal deaths. With that awareness, Poppy’s life did indeed flash before her eyes.

Her parents’ proud smiles. Her sisters laughing. The pungent smell of herbs and the bite of a brewing concoction.

Rök’s sinful grin and bad jokes. His scorching kisses.

She fought to crane her head toward him. They met gazes.

“Poppy!” He looked frantic for her, his blue eyes turning gray, reflex smoke emerging from his skin.

Annelise used her power to pry his sword from his clenched fingers and cast it away. Then she threw him to the floor as if were a rag doll.

“Rök, no!”

Annelise telekinetically pinned him while the others leapt atop his sprawled body. One’s serrated blade plunged toward his chest.

Rök managed to block it. “Fucker!” But he couldn’t get loose.

“Leave him alone!” Poppy strained against Annelise’s force to reach her bag.

“Get free and run,” Rök grated. He missed a block; the blade stabbed, coming up bloody. The maniacal doll leered with delight.

“I’m not leaving you!”

With another wave of her arm, Annelise began to strangle Rök. His disbelieving face turned purple. Veins bulged in his temples.

The whites of his eyes burst red as the blade plunged again. Rök’s blood spurted. The mannequins were covered in it, battering his head and horns with glee.

Poppy screamed, “Stop!” She couldn’t reach a pouch, and he was running out of oxygen. If he couldn’t defend, they would take his head.

Rök. Gone forever.

Three realizations hit Poppy.

What was at stake. What she coveted. What she feared⁠—

Rök somehow thrashed his mighty body to the side. He’d loosened Annelise’s hold!

His move must’ve startled the doll, interrupting her telekinesis; Poppy was able to snag a pouch, receiving the magic. She freed her arm enough to fire on Annelise. “Get away from him, you bitch!” Magic shot from her.

The doll fired back with one hand, resuming her hold on Rök with her other.

Poppy’s continuous beam battled Annelise’s telekinesis—one force blazing, one invisible. The stalemate drained Poppy’s strength like water through a colander.

Her beam sputtered to nothing, yet Annelise too seemed weakened.

Rök managed to beat away the others, tossing them down the hall!

With the tide turning, Poppy yelled and freed herself from the wall. She ran to Rök just as he staggered to his feet.

When the dolls gathered for another attack, Rök yanked Poppy behind him, roaring, “Let off, you little pricks!”

Suddenly they . . . did, backing away. Had Annelise cocked her head to listen for something approaching?

How could dolls even hear?

Rök glanced back at her. “You okay?”

Shaky nod. “We have to get out of here.”

“What’s that hissing, witch?”

Poppy knew that sound.

The aliens had come.