Demon from the Dark

by Kresley Cole

Chapter 17

  Do not look at the water; keep your eyes on her. Malkom gritted his teeth, refusing to think about the li"uid wrapping around his legs, about how unnatural it felt. No, just look at those beautiful breasts.

  Gods, they were so pale and full, tipped with dusky pink nipples that were stiffening right before his eyes. He clenched and unclenched his fists as he thought about cupping those breasts, s"ueezing them. . . .

  His cock bobbed painfully as he strode toward her. Once he stood before her, he dragged his gaze up to meet hers. Her sultry eyes were heavy-lidded, the irises like starbursts.

  She was desirous. Which meant she would have expectations of him that he doubted he could fulfill.

  Seduction. I do not know how to do this. Would she want to be kissed? 'Twas taboo among the Trothan demons.

  She probably thought he'd been with hundreds of females, as most demons his age would have been. She likely believed he was skilled at drawing pleasure from females.

  I have no skill and nearly as little knowledge about her body. Yet when a large drop of water coursed from her chest down one of her proud breasts, his apprehensions grew dim. Have to touch them. . .

  But as he reached for her, she eased away, shaking her head. No, he wanted to touch -

  "Malkom, please. "

  He hesitated. She wanted something of him now. You have had your turn - now it is hers. At length, he gave a nod, allowing her to lead him beside a fall of water. He even knelt when she did, though that put the water as high as his navel.

  He remained tense when she moved behind him, running the cloth over his back and neck with deliberate strokes. His arms were next as she worked all the way down to his fingers and claws.

  When she grazed her fingertips over the scars on his wrists, he recalled her reaction as she'd stripped him of his cuffs. Oh, yes, she'd known what those scars meant. He'd seen the pity in her expressive eyes. Which had shamed him. And those scars marked the least demeaning way he'd been used.

  How would she react to learning the rest?

  As she ran that soapy cloth over any part of him that she could reach, he decided that this bath was markedly different from what he'd remembered. There was no pain or strangling panic. He was still on edge, but his mind was filled with thoughts of her, wondering where she would touch him next, in what way she would touch him.

  When she looped her arms around him to wash his chest, her bared breasts slipped across his back, rendering him dizzy with pleasure. The feel of those pink tips against him made his cock throb so intensely, he was tempted to begin masturbating under the water to assuage it -

  The pad of her forefinger rubbed his pierced nipple. "Ah, Carrow . . . " Just when he was about to snatch her into his arms, she stood and began washing his hair, running her nails along his scalp.

  For some reason this relaxed him, weakening him until he could barely keep his head lifted. Yet when she all but polished his horns, his shaft pulsed impossibly harder.

  How much longer could he endure the building pressure? Had he not come earlier, there'd have been no withstanding this.

  But if he touched her, he could hurt her, justifying her fears about his claiming. If he hurt her, then he'd never have this again - attention, care, interest.

  He'd neverknow what thing she would do next.

  With that in mind, he let her guide him to stand, cooperating when she coaxed him to lift his arms, palms against the rock face so water from above would run down over his head.

  She knelt behind him, then took the cloth to his feet, working her way up his calves, her destination unmistakable. Would she touch his member? Run her hot, soapy hands over it? When her breast rubbed against his leg, his claws dug deep into the stone beside his head.

  This position reminded him of being flogged - or worse. But the torture he'd known before merely had to be endured. Now he had to deny what he wanted more than anything he'd ever known.

  Each of her touches made his cock strain painfully, every graze as tormenting to him as the bite of a whip.

  His seed was rising, feeling like it would erupt against his will. And with it, his demon instinct began burning inside him again. Thoughts of tossing her to the ground ran riot. Of pinning her arms over her head as he plunged his cock betwixt her legs. He imagined tying her wrists behind her back, then laving her sex like an animal at drink. . . .

  When her hands reached above his knees, he gnashed his teeth and rammed one of his horns against the rock. Pain tempered his pleasure, buying him precious seconds.

  A week ago, if someone had told Carrow that she'd be worshipping a wild-man vemon's naked body, kneeling before it, she'd have laughed.

  But worshipping was exactly what she was doing, entranced by every rigid inch of him.

  At first, she'd been methodical. Yet then she'd slowed her movements, helpless not to appreciate the masculine perfection of his body - the hollows at the sides of his rock-hard ass, the corded thigh muscles, the sharp rises and falls of his chiseled abs. Those pecs were made for a woman's nails to dig into.

  His tan skin was dusted with golden-blond hair on his chest, arms, and legs. A trail of it descended from his navel to the slightly darker hair at his groin.

  His shaft protruded from between his lean hips like a rod, his testicles heavy and begging to be fondled.

  Carrow couldn't remember ever being this aroused in her entire life. This demon was raw, uncivilized - and he was making her melt.

  By the time she reached his upper thighs, his body was thrumming. She thought he was holding his breath. Instead of touching him higher, she stood and began soaping his lower back and ass, his muscles tensing to her fingertips. He exhaled with disappointment.

  Biting her lip, she reached around to work on his lower torso. His stomach dipped and flexed as she ran the cloth down that trail of golden hair. Again, just when she was about to reach his groin, she stopped.

  Playing a dangerous game. His low groan grew nearly constant. He glanced over his shoulder down at her. His eyes had turned black once more, gleaming like onyx.

  He was about to blow. If he lost control, he might hurt her again, but with a couple of "uick strokes, the demon would be done. Time to "wash" between his legs.

  With light kisses over his back, she reached down to gently soap his heavy testicles from behind. He jerked, uneasy. Had no woman ever touched him there? Or had it simply been so long ago? She felt sadness to think of him being exiled here by himself for ages.

  Tonight she would give him pleasure like he'd never known. Something to remember you by, Carrow?

  Tamping down the thought, she slipped her hand around his waist, seeking his shaft. She wrapped her fingers around it as best as she could, biting back a moan at the feel of those piercings against her palm.

  At her first touch, he jerked again, moving his legs out wider. Then he froze. Tension shot through him, and his erection faltered.

  Something was very wrong, his emotions growing chaotic. She even detected . . . rage?

  Just as she was releasing him to retreat, he swirled around, knocking her hold loose, his clenched hand hitting her bad wrist.

  "Demon! You almost rebroke . . . " Words vanished when she glimpsed his face.

  His expression was menacing, his fangs sharp. He snarled down at her.

  As she backed away, eyes tearing at the pain, he shook his head hard, as if he were coming out of a trance.

  Good for you, but I'm still bailing. She turned and hurried toward the side of the pool -

  He looped his arm around her waist, dragging her against him. "Ara . . . Carrow, no," he rasped brokenly. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent. Now his erection came raring back to life, the crown prodding the bottom of her ass.

  "Put me down!" The more she struggled, the more she rubbed the tip. "Don't say I didn't warn you. " She flooded her body with power, shocking him like an electric fence.
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br />   "Carrow!" he bellowed, forced to release her.

  Yet she'd barely taken two steps before he swooped her up again.

  "You must like pain. However, I - do - not. " She shocked him again with even more juice. "Wish I could see the look on your face. . . . " She realized he was simply taking it, refusing to release her, so she turned up the volume to high. His forehead fell against her shoulder as he "uaked with pain, but he wouldn't let her go.

  Soon she was defeated, left without power, and still he was standing. The next time I set out to hurt him, I'm going full guns, she vowed. She would put him down.

  He turned her in his arms until they were facing each other, their chests pressed tightly together, his forearm under her ass.

  "Let me go now!" she all but screamed.

  After a hesitation, he let her body slowly slide down his.

  The contact of their slippery skin, the gradual descent, the sound of their breaths. . .

  Against her will, she felt a spike of desire. And she knew he could tell. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring. Then he hissed out a ragged breath, as if the scent of her were too much to resist. His penis pulsed between them.

  When her nipples dragged down his chest, one rubbed directly over his piercing. He shuddered anew. By the time he set her on her feet, he was subtly rocking his hips.

  With his jaw clenched until the muscles bulged at the sides, he s"ueezed his eyes shut - just as hers went wide.

  "Oh, my gods! You're about to come?" Earlier, as she'd all but given him a hand job, he hadn't been able to stay erect. Now he was about to blow? "I don't get you, demon. Ugh! Just let me go. "

  His shaking palms covering her shoulders, he set her away. Appearing to gain a modicum of control, he released her and opened his eyes. Whatever he saw in her expression made his gaze dip to her wrist, then to her bite mark.

  He parted his lips to speak, then closed them, eyes darting as he so clearly wanted to communicate with her. To explain why he'd hurt her - again?

  She was done "listening. " Carrow didn't like dirty guys, and she didn't like damaged ones either. She turned and walked away.

  With agitated movements, his female donned one of the large shirts from a pack, then stormed away.

  Alone. Once more. Malkom punched the wall to keep from yelling with frustration. Am I destined to be solitary?

  What he wouldn't give to be able to speak to her. He wanted to tell her that he was willing to relearn her language and go without sex or biting for now. He was even considering giving up his revenge.

  All this he would do for her, but he needed her to give him new memories to drown out the old. . . .

  So many things about this night had reminded Malkom of his past - the water, the scent of the soap, her palm closing over him from behind. Her touch was gentle, completely different from what he'd experienced. Yet even the way she'd steered him had called the master to mind.

  Malkom clasped his forehead, grappling to pull his thoughts from the past, realizing that he needed to be in control of what happened between him and his female. He wanted to guide her.

  Which was a problem, since he didn't know how.

  If only he could have more time with her, a few hours to learn her form, he could get them back to where they'd been just before he'd lost control. And then this night could be what he remembered whenever he thought of sex in the future.

  He stalked after her, readying to touch her tender skin.

  'Tis not the end.

  As she hastened away, she refused to think about that lost look on the demon's face. Refused to think about it - at all.

  Some inner torment had just been dredged up. Considering that he'd been a slave, she could imagine the nature of the torment. Especially when taken with his reaction to her unwitting touches.

  Carrow truly felt bad for him, but she had to protect herself. Luckily, she was resolved. So why am I glancing back?

  She'd only get more of the same if she returned. To be bitten and battered? Just hours ago, her sternum had felt like the landing site of a wrecking ball. And yes, he'd shoved her to protect her, but it was yet another example of how little control he had.

  Totally out of control. Like if he were a dog, he'd be the angry-eyed mongrel at the pound, the one that was sure to attack. So why did she have the urge to claim him?

  Such a wild, lost male. Another glance back, this time with some lip nibbling. Eyes forward, slore.

  Damn it, she was still woefully aroused. It'd been weeks since she'd had an orgasm. As she strode down the mine with no bra on, her aching breasts bounced, her nipples hypersensitive. Each step was agony to her still-throbbing sex.

  Strangely, her hurting wrist was nearly forgotten -

  Without warning, he seized her, tucking her under his arm against his hip, and headed back for the pool.

  "Drop me, demon! Now!"

  Instead, he carted her right back into the water, setting her on her feet beneath one of the cascades. As she sputtered, he ripped free the T-shirt she wore.

  "This is your bright idea?" Surprisingly unafraid of him, she struck his chest with the bottom of one fist. "Way to get back in my good graces, asshole!"

  Without even acknowledging her useless hits, he patiently held up his finger. His eyes were flickering back to the steady blue.

  "One moment? Forget it, don't wanna stay. " At his unbending look, she said, "Listen, I'm sorry for whatever happened to you, because evidently, damage was done. But I'm not your spank moppet or whipping girl, or anything like that - " She s"uinted at his hand. "Um, where are your claws?" He'd bitten them away. How thoroughly was he planning on touching her?

  He bent to drag down her thong.

  Carrow's rebellion? Chin raised, she said, "I'm not stepping out of it. "

  Not a problem for Slaine; he briefly lifted her and removed it, tossing it by her bra.

  Then he took one of the cloths, lathering it with the soap, his mien resolute.

  "I-I haven't said yes to any - "

  He pressed the cloth to her chest, softly rubbing her with easy strokes. Despite herself she was intrigued by this unexpected side of him. Amazingly, she found herself relaxing.

  With one hand, he unhurriedly scrubbed. With his other he covered one shoulder, his palm warm over her skin. So lightly, he pressed his thumb against her muscle there, massaging.

  When she moaned, he must have taken this as a sign of her surrender, because masculine satisfaction surged through him - fueling her power once more.

  The cloth was momentarily forgotten as he used the backs of his fingers to skim her cheek, her jawline, then the length of her neck and lower.

  With decisive action, he'd hunted, he'd warred, and he'd protected her. Now he was tentative as he traced the lines of her shoulders, his eyes following his every movement. No man had ever looked at her as he did - like she was the best thing in the world.

  He caressed the pads of his fingers over her collarbone so tenderly that she was staggered by his gentleness. Such a killer, such a warrior, yet look at what he was capable of.

  He murmured to her in Demonish. She didn't understand the words, but she recognized the tone - wonderment. For the first time in her life, Carrow felt treasured. And, gods, that was a heady feeling. I could get addicted to this.

  From her collarbone, he smoothed his forefinger down . . . down. Just as he was about to reach her nipple, when she was trembling for that contact, he let out a shuddering breath and circled the peak.

  She bit her lip. No, touch me there, demon!

  Instead he returned the cloth to her chest, seeming determined to wash her as she'd done him.

  But when she arched her back while whispering, "Please, demon," he groaned, dipping the cloth over her breasts, across her achy nipples.

  She gave a cry, earning another lash of satisfaction from him, power pouring from him to her, enabling her magic again.
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  As her eyes slid shut, she hazily debated: Heal my wrist, or force the demon to release me?

  Beneath the cloth, his sneaky thumb swept over her nipple. "Oh, Malkom, yes. "

  Her wrist? Good as new.