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Drew vaulted over the railing that separated the finished patio from the rest of the roof and whipped around the corner through the pouring rain. He withdrew his sword from beneath his jacket, nearly losing his grip on the weapon as he took in the scene in front of him.

His heart turned over at the sight of Blair planted between a male hostile and a woman huddled against the side of the adjoining building that towered two floors above the nightclub.

“Leave her alone,” Blair warned, the smashed neck of a beer bottle clutched in her hand. She didn’t wave it provokingly at the demon, but neither did she hide that she was willing to use it if she had to.

The war demon took a menacing step in her direction.

“Hey!”

The hostile stopped, turning its homicidal gaze on Drew. Its attention flicked to the sword he carried.

“You’re not bothering these women, are you?”

The demon’s nostrils flared.

Drew calculated the distance between him and Blair, but the demon saved him from moving to intercept by pivoting and facing him.

“Get the woman out of here,” he ordered Blair, then rushed the war demon.

His speed was always an advantage with war demons, but the only hits that counted with the fast-healing bastards were the killing ones.

A ham-sized fist sailed past Drew’s face. He dodged and countered, narrowly missing the hostile’s windpipe with the tip of his sword. A spinning kick knocked the demon off its feet. It recovered fast enough to evade his next strike, but not the following two slashes that caught the hostile across its back and thigh. Had the creature been mortal, severing the femoral artery would have sealed the deal. Instead the wounds closed in less time than it took for Drew to move in again.

What should have been a wide blow caught Drew in the jaw, and he stumbled. Pain flared up the side of his face. He rebounded before the war demon could take advantage, but both strikes missed their targets each time the hostile used its arm to deflect the attack.

A smashed bottle connected with the hostile’s head, and it stupidly turned in the direction of the timely missile. Another ear-splitting crack of thunder almost drowned out the demon cursing Blair in its ancient language.

The minor distraction gave Drew the edge and he shot forward to sever the demon’s head. Blue flames claimed the body before it hit the ground and he turned to see the woman still curled against the wall, her head down. Blair touched the woman’s shoulder, whispered reassuringly, finally getting her to her feet.

Needing a second to fight through the rush of adrenaline that had been drop-loaded into his system, Drew stood motionless.

The woman staggered and he hoped she was drunk enough she might forget most of what had happened, or convince herself she’d imagined it. She gave them both a wide-eyed look and rushed for the door.

“Why didn’t you stay inside?” He grabbed Blair’s wrist when she moved to follow the woman.

“He was going to hurt her.” Her voice trembled, undermining the determination that flashed in her eyes.

“If I had been any later he would have hurt you.”

“I had to do something.”

“Like throw a broken bottle at his head?” he snapped. What if that had only provoked the demon into going after her? Delayed panic gripped his stomach and wrenched hard.

“Drew?” She took a nervous step backwards.

He countered with a step forward, losing what little hold he had on his anger. “It was stupid.”

Blair lifted her chin. “It was the right thing to do.”

“You barely know what you’re up against.”

“Neither did you once.”

He backed her up against the wall. “Next time you damn well do what I say.”

“Not if it’s the wrong call.”

If he wasn’t so furious he might have respected the courage it took to stand up to the hostile. “Do you know what your brother would do to me if I let anything else happen to you?”

“I’m in one piece, aren’t I?”

“This time,” he roared. “You can’t be so fucking reckless.”

“Reckless? One of them almost killed me. Facing them is not reckless, not when it’s doing the right thing.” Her voice cracked and she threw her arms around him, holding on.

“Stupid fool,” he growled, then slanted his mouth across hers, tasting her fear, her relief, her need for him.

His need for her.

Her lips parted beneath his, her tongue sweeping along the seam of his mouth. He locked one arm around her lower back, tightening his grip on her. She moaned softly, a shudder wracking her body.

Drew was done asking himself what it was about her that drove him right to the edge. Dissecting it did nothing to make him stop wanting her. No amount of reasoning or good intentions held up against the brutal need that being with her, being in her arms, dragged to the surface.

He tipped her head back and deepened the kiss, plundering the sheer, wet warmth of her mouth until his whole body shook from the force of his frustration, anger—lust. He left her lips, trailing down her neck. Her body arched impatiently against his and he ventured lower, smoothing his mouth over the cleavage that pressed up the neckline of her shirt.

“Drew,” she murmured.

The mist thickened once more, but the rain did nothing to cool the fire rushing through his veins. He unsnapped her pants, desperate to touch her. Just for a second. He jerked at the edge of her panties and slipped two fingers beneath to find her warm and damp. A groan jammed in his throat.

Blair rocked up on her heels, rubbing against his hand. He’d long ago memorized the smell of her skin, the way she tasted on his tongue, the thump of her heart as it picked up speed. And every bit of that worked against him now, tearing at his restraint.