Demon's Kiss by Eve Silver Page A

eyes hot. Hungry. For a second she’d been afraid he would kiss her . . . or maybe she’d wished he would. What was it with that?
    She sighed. Later, she would find another opportunity to ask questions. Demand replies. Something other than the monosyllabic grunts she’d gotten thus far. And if sticking to Ciarran like a fly to flypaper was the only way to get those answers, then that was exactly what she planned to do.
    Except, maybe that wasn’t the best analogy. Flies on flypaper invariably ended up dead.
    Following him around the side of the building, Clea stopped short at the sight of the sleek black motorcycle sitting in the pallid circle cast by the dim overhead light. The emblem read DUCATI. She didn’t know anything about bikes, but this one looked like it could break the sound barrier.
    Which meant she was not getting on that thing. Definitely not. She’d survived one horrific crash, and she had a firm policy against inviting another.
    “I think I’ll take my car,” she said. If it started. There were never any guarantees.
    He paused but didn’t turn, and she thought she saw his shoulders tighten just a little. “No, you’ll stay with me.”
    And he sounded none too thrilled about that.
    She thought about climbing onto that bike, pressed up against him. Nope. Not a plan. In a choice between Ciarran and Ciarran’s motorcycle, she wasn’t sure which was more dangerous.
    “Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll give you a ride in my car.” Problem solved.
    He did glance at her then, and the look he gave her spoke volumes. “There is no longer anyplace that is safe for you.”
    “No longer anyplace that is safe for me? You do realize how melodramatic that sounds?” Clea waited for him to laugh, to clarify his point. Of course he meant that the Blue Bay wasn’t safe, because that horrible gray thing, that demon, might have friends. That must be what he meant.
    “There is no safe place, Clea.” His voice was low and rough. Intense. A shiver chased along her spine. “Not here at”—he glanced at the sign—“the Blue Bay Motel. Not in Toronto. Not here in Ontario. Not anywhere in the mortal world.”
    “What?” She sucked in a breath, her mind spinning as his words sank in. She lived in a typical city, with its boxy malls, megaplex movie theaters, and a skyline that boasted the tallest freestanding tower in the world. The crime rate here was a bare two shades above zero. And he was telling her it wasn’t safe? What did he mean? That there really was no place safe?
    That was a horrible thought.
    He shook his head, exhaling a hiss of air from between his teeth. “I am your only safe place now.”
    That thought was only marginally less bad.
    Just as she was about to protest, he added, “That minor demon wouldn’t work alone. Others are likely to follow.”
    Okay. That got her attention. Made her weigh her options.
    Demon . . . bike . . . demon . . . bike . . .
    She opened her mouth to argue in favor of her car, but catching sight of the glint of steel in his expression, she decided against it. Hadn’t Gram always taught her that strength lay in choosing one’s battles?
    “Bike it is,” she said, forcing the words out. The decision wasn’t an easy one, no matter how glib she tried to sound.
    Ciarran nodded, settling her pack on the back of the motorcycle and strapping it in place before he turned to face her.
    “The man who was here earlier, the one you called Wired Guy, where did he go?” he asked. She’d mentioned that encounter in a babbling torrent of words as he’d questioned her about the moments before the demon arrived.
    “I sent him up the road to the Motel Seven.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if he went, but if he’s the one you’re looking for, it’s a place to start.”
    The wind swirled down from the north, biting through her thin sweater, and she shivered. Frowning, she cast a glance over her shoulder at the front door of the motel. She had a coat, didn’t she? Or had she