Fury Unleashed

by N. J. Walters

  Her breasts weren’t overly large or small. Average was the best way to describe them. She’d never worried about it one way or another and wasn’t about to start now.

  She caught a whiff of sweat and blood. Demon, too. Damn, she smelled funky. Not that it had stopped either of them.

  Maccus offered her his hand. It was large with long blunt fingers, capable of meting out violence and pain but also of giving intense pleasure.

  She took it. It was an odd sensation to see her much smaller, paler hand in his bigger tanned one. It all but swallowed hers when he closed his fingers and tugged her toward the stall.

  Shower sex worked for her.

  He pushed several buttons, and the water flowed from the large overhead rain shower. She lifted her face to the warm spray, letting it cascade over her.

  Maccus made a low sound that might have been pleasure or pain. When she opened her eyes, his dark gaze was locked on to her.

  He was the hunter, and she was his prey. And she was more than ready to be caught.

  He dragged her toward him and kissed her. She tangled her fingers in his hair, yanked his head down, and returned the frantic caress. Their tongues dueled; their breath mingled. She couldn’t get enough.

  More. More. More.

  He was better than dark chocolate, red wine, and salty chips.

  He spun her around and shoved her against the shower wall. She arched away from the cool tiles, wanting only the heat.

  She rubbed her breasts over his muscular chest. “Oh, yeah,” she groaned. Her nipples were like little spikes and hurt.

  Done waiting, she grabbed his shoulders and lifted, twining her legs around him, rubbing her core against his hard cock.

  The water gently pummeled them, creating a warm haven.

  “Fuck me, now,” she demanded, ready to throw him down to the floor if he didn’t get busy.

  He gripped her hips, bruising her skin as he lifted her higher.

  Finally. Thank Hell.

  Chapter Five

  If it were possible for him to get drunk, then kissing Morrigan would have left him reeling. She not only met his passion but demanded more.

  He hungered for her. Like a treat long denied, he wanted to gorge on her until he was sated. But he feared that day might never come.

  What was she thinking? And why did he care? Her attention had drifted several times. She fought her own demons. They both did.

  Was she a simple hunter or something more?

  Why is Gabriel so interested in her?

  Then she rubbed her molten core against his cock, and he no longer cared about anything but having her. Over the course of his long life, he’d learned to take pleasure where and when he could, to live in the moment, because the next one might be shit.

  He feasted on her mouth, enjoying the way she challenged him, her tongue fighting his for supremacy. It was the sweetest battle, with both of them winning as the kiss grew deeper and harder and more frantic.

  This was a woman who would never back away from a challenge. His blood thickened and pooled in his cock. His balls, heavy and full, ached for release.

  Ready to explode, he pinned her against the shower wall, reached down with one hand, and guided the head of his shaft to her opening. Warmth coated him. The scent of her arousal was more addictive than any incense or drug ever created by nature, man, or the gods.

  She tilted her head back, pulling her lips from his as she inhaled. The motion slid her breasts over his chest, drawing a moan from her. Many succubi in Hell had attempted to seduce him. They’d all failed. But this hunter was succeeding while barely trying.

  Morrigan was the most sensual creature he’d ever encountered.

  He flexed his hips and shoved, forging a path inward. Her slick sheath gripped his cock, squeezing tight and holding him in place for a brief second before he surged forward, driving all the way home.

  A flicker, a yearning for something more, threatened to ignite inside him. He ruthlessly smothered it.

  He slammed a hand against the wall. Tile cracked, and several shards fell to the floor. The jagged edge of one sliced his skin. Blood pooled, but the slight injury healed almost as quickly as it occurred.

  Fuck, nothing had ever felt this good in his entire life.

  Her green eyes were unfocused as she panted heavily. “Maccus.”

  The sound of his name falling from her full, lush lips reached inside and tugged at the spark of warmth left within him.

  Danger!

  His hands were around her throat before he realized what he was doing.

  She didn’t fight, offered no resistance, seeming almost resigned to her death. In her face, he saw understanding and compassion.

  His chest constricted. His temples pounded.

  A whisper of emotion threatened. He refused to name it. That would give it power. He could not, would not, allow that. Had avoided all hint of weakness since he’d been cast from Heaven. Emotions were easily used by others to manipulate and destroy, to trick and deceive.

  Survival had been his only goal. It had burned out all need for retribution or revenge.

  It was no longer enough.

  Throwing back his head, he roared. The glass wall rattled. The shampoo bottle fell onto its side before tumbling to the floor. She’d done this to him.

  At this very moment, he hated her.

  In a desperate bid to drown out the voice that whispered he should kill her, he kissed her.

  There was another voice, one just as loud demanding he protect her with his life.

  She was the key to his salvation.

  But even if such a thing was possible, did he want it?

  His immediate goal was to fuck her. So he did. Melding their mouths together, he demanded her submission. But she didn’t give it. She gripped his shoulders, her blunt nails digging into his skin to mark him, and lifted herself slightly before letting herself fall back on him.

  His dick throbbed in time to his racing heart.

  Take her. Fuck her. Keep her. The chant in his head was unending.

  More monster than man, he gave a fierce roar, buried his face in the curve of her neck and fucked her hard and fast, his hips pumping nonstop.

  Warm water showered over them. The slap of their wet bodies mingled with her breathy moans and sighs, his deep groans.

  “Yes.” She screamed her release. It echoed in his ears, pounded in his blood. When her slick sheath rippled around him, he lost it. Hard and fast, his release rocketed up from his balls.

  Panting hard, he rode her to madness and beyond. He wasn’t human and didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Within moments, he was hard and ready to come again. His body was a well-honed machine. His goal, sexual satisfaction.

  The darkness in him took over, reveling in the pleasure she gave him. Having her come again and again left him craving more. His hips pistoned, his hands hard on her hips, holding her steady as he plundered. And she was there with him, her sweet pussy squeezing and milking him. It was glorious.

  It was only after her fifth orgasm and his third, he finally gained control. What the hell was he doing? If she’d been human, he might have killed her.

  “Fuck.” Breathing heavily, he lifted her away from the wall, still holding her in his arms, unwilling to relinquish her just yet.

  Her head rested limply on his shoulder. “Didn’t we just do that?” She sighed and then wrapped her arms around him.

  Maccus closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the water stream over them. He’d fucked her without concern or care, something he’d never done, even at his worst. Being so strong, he’d always had to be in control, so he didn’t hurt the female he was with, even supernatural creatures. Not to mention, he had to be alert in case his partner decided to try to kill him.

  He’d lost all sense of time and place with Morrig
an.

  He stepped out of the shower, ignoring the broken tile littering the bottom. Holding her snuggly with one arm, he turned off the water. She sighed and kissed his neck.

  They were both dripping, but he closed his eyes and drew all the heat in the room toward them, blowing the warmed air over them. When he opened his eyes, they were both dry.

  He carried her into his bedroom and placed her in his bed. She looked too at home with her head on his pillow, his comforter pulled over her. Stepping away from her was more difficult than he’d imagined.

  Her eyes closed, Morrigan smuggled down and gave a small snore.

  His lips twitched. She’d destroyed him. But at least he wasn’t alone in that. He’d totally worn her out. And some part of her trusted him enough to fall asleep in his presence.

  For the first time in more than ten thousand years, Maccus smiled. Not an ironic one or one designed to irritate or scare the crap out of an opponent, but an honest to goodness smile.

  It disappeared as fast as it appeared.

  The woman sleeping in his bed made him vulnerable. Why had Gabriel tried to contract him to kill her?

  It was a puzzle to be solved. He had to protect her, at least until her true purpose in the scheme of things became clear. If the archangel was willing to contract him to kill her, she might be more important to him than he realized.

  And while he was figuring that out, he had to keep her from killing him. Because that was why she was here. Who’d hired her? Lucifer? Gabriel? Some other, unidentified player?

  She made another small sigh. Her skin was rosy from the shower and their lovemaking, and he could smell himself on her. It would be so easy to crawl between her thighs and taste her, arousing her slowly, so by the time she woke, she’d be ready to take him again.

  But first, he had work to do to ensure he didn’t have any other uninvited guests. He’d stayed out of the games played between Heaven and Hell for thousands of years, but he was being drawn back into them.

  Until he figured out why, he was going to protect himself. Anyone stupid enough to try to gain unauthorized entry to his home was going to be in for quite a surprise.

  He walked out into his living room, manifested one of the daggers from his chest, and dragged the blade over his palm. Blood seeped from the shallow wound. Dipping his finger into it, he stepped up to the wall and began to draw.

  …

  Morrigan’s entire body ached. Not in a she’d-been-fighting-a-demon way. No, her body throbbed in the most delicious way. Her core pulsed as though still vibrating from the most amazing orgasm she’d ever had in her entire life. Or rather the four most amazing orgasms. Or was it five? She’d lost count.

  Maccus had been a machine, fucking her hard and fast. She’d never experienced anything like it. He’d been out of control, something she was pretty sure was rare for him.

  For a heartbeat, she feared he was going to kill her. His hands had wrapped around her throat, fingers tightening around the slender column. Her life had flashed before her eyes. Regrets had saddened her. And she had so many. Not just for herself, but for the younger sister she’d given up everything to save.

  Funnily enough, being with Maccus wasn’t one of them.

  But he’d simply gripped her neck, his touch firm but not damaging, as he fought some internal battle.

  Dying didn’t bother her. It was what came after. If she died before she completed her task, Lucifer would make sure she suffered for eternity.

  On a shudder, she opened her eyes and pushed herself into a sitting position. She was alone in the biggest bed she’d ever seen. Forget king-size; this thing was built for a giant—or an almost seven-foot whatever Maccus was.

  She was naked and completely dry. How had that happened? The last thing she remembered was an orgasm that had rocked her to her very core. She’d closed her eyes to rest for a few minutes. And that was it.

  Maccus was dangerous. He’d made her lower her guard with him—something she hadn’t done in a decade.

  The sound of chanting drifted through the open door. Curious, she scooted off the bed and padded silently down the hall.

  The scene before her was like something out of a horror movie. The previously white walls were now covered in blood-red symbols. Some of them she recognized from her time in Hell and from the cuffs she slapped onto the bounties she hunted. Others were totally foreign to her.

  But they were powerful. Even though she had no paranormal abilities whatsoever, there was no mistaking the pulse of energy flowing from them.

  He finished the final symbol and straightened from a crouch. The blood on his hands faded, as though absorbing back into him, leaving no wound behind. “You’re awake.”

  She motioned to the symbols covering the walls. “Redecorating?”

  His lips twitched but still no smile.

  “Making sure we don’t have any unwanted visitors.”

  Good luck with that. She doubted anything could keep Lucifer out, but it still gave her a sense of safety, which was probably stupid, considering she was trapped in here with Maccus.

  When he turned toward the far wall, she glimpsed his back for the first time. There were other weapons there, but that wasn’t what claimed her attention. No, it was the set of magnificent black wings etched along his spine.

  As though drawn by an invisible tether, she walked toward him, her hand out. They were beautiful, each feather so intricately drawn they looked real and soft. She curled her fingers inward to keep from touching them. The muscles in his back tensed.

  Then she saw the scars. Only her enhanced vision allowed her to see them. They ran down the length of his back on either side, perfectly symmetrical.

  Unable to believe what she was seeing, she swallowed heavily, taking a step back when he spun around. Danger pulsed in the air, vibrating through her entire body.

  Run! the primitive part of her urged.

  She held her ground.

  “You’re an angel,” she blurted.

  He shook his head. “Once.”

  Holy fuck! Maccus Fury was a fallen angel. There’d been rumors, but she’d figured they were just that. Other than Lucifer himself, she’d never actually believed there were others like him out there.

  Why have her kill Maccus? Wouldn’t dealing with him fall under Heaven’s jurisdiction? Or was he so powerful Lucifer feared him?

  That was enough to make her slightly ill. How the hell was she supposed to kill a man that Lucifer feared? No, not a man, an angel.

  She’d had sex with a fallen angel.

  Her legs buckled, and she landed on her knees on the floor. When he came toward her, she wondered if this was the end. Eternity in Hell loomed before her.

  When Maccus extended his hand, she rolled to the side and sprang to her feet. Shit, her weapons were still in the bathroom. Here she was, naked and unarmed, facing a fallen angel.

  He tilted his head to one side and studied her. She was beginning to feel like an exhibit at the zoo. In front of you is the totally fucked bounty hunter from Hell.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “What are you doing?” she countered.

  “We’ve had a similar conversation,” he reminded her. “And like the last time, I asked you first.”

  “I’m trying to stay alive.” That was the truth. The problem was she had no idea how to make that happen. Someone was going to kill her, and whether it was Maccus or Lucifer, she was screwed.

  “Then you need to tell me the truth.”

  She kept her legs slightly bent, and her hands open by her sides—not that she could win any fight with him, but because it wasn’t in her nature to just roll over. If it were, she’d already be languishing in Hell.

  “What truth? You were the one who found me,” she reminded him. “I was just hunting a demon.” She resisted the urge to run. There
was nowhere she could go that was safe.

  He put one finger under her chin and tilted her head back. “So you were. It seems that outside forces conspired so we’d meet. I wonder why.”

  Yeah, so did she, but she didn’t think any answers would be forthcoming any time soon. Nor would they help. More powerful beings were messing with their lives.

  “Will those really work?” she asked, motioning toward the walls.

  “Yes.”

  His surety made her muscles uncoil slightly. “So, what do we do now?”

  “Now?” He moved so fast she couldn’t evade him, grabbed her around the waist, and tossed her over his shoulder. She didn’t struggle because they were heading toward the bedroom, which was closer to her weapons. A good hunter knew when to act and when to wait.

  But Maccus seemed to have other priorities. He dumped her in the middle of the bed and followed her down, supporting the bulk of his weight on his forearms so she wasn’t crushed.

  “Now,” he continued as though he hadn’t just hauled her around like a sack of grain, “we have sex. And this time, we go slowly.”

  Chapter Six

  It was such a relief not to have to fight for her life that she had no defenses when he slanted his lips over hers.

  The urge to taste life, to grab on to whatever goodness there was, compelled her to kiss him back. Maccus was one of the rarest beings in existence. Honestly, her odds of running into a unicorn or dragon had been better, and she was pretty sure they were mythical. Okay, maybe she wasn’t so sure about the dragon. They might be real. But still, at some point in his life, he’d been an angel. She’d never met one, for which she was profoundly grateful. When angels came around, people died.

  History and literature aside, they weren’t exactly the benevolent creatures they portrayed themselves to be. Oh, they could grant favors and do magical things, but they always had an agenda. She’d dealt with paranormal creatures enough to understand that survival and the need for power were universal in all species.

  Good and bad were simply judgments. Demons wanted to live, and their natures dictated they do so in a certain way that usually meant torture and killing others. Was she looking to join their ranks? Hell no. Would she battle them to her last breath? Hell, yes. But they were simply what they were.