Demon Lover (Supernatural Alphas)

by Tee, Marian

  “That’s enough with the joking,” Soleil censured them.

  The rookies happily murmured their assent, a combination of wishful thinking and awe allowing them to take comfort in the gracious, dulcet tones of their squad leader.

  This was the famous Soleil Orpheline, they assured themselves. A stunning, voluptuous, blue-eyed blonde, she was society’s reigning belle during the day and the dangerously skilled leader of Trois Belle Lames at night.

  If Commander Soleil wasn’t nervous about the imps, then they, too, had nothing to worry about.

  Behind Soleil, the walls continued to shudder and crack.

  Soleil continued to smile, and Fleur and Aurora, taking their cues from her, kept smiles pinned to their lips. Unlike the kids, they knew they were in a life-and-death situation, but if Soleil wanted the kids kept in the dark, then it would be so.

  They trusted her to do what was right...no matter what.

  Soleil cleared her throat delicately. “Here’s the plan...” The walls started to crumble as Soleil made a series of gestures, a sign language known only to enforcers.

  Fleur and Aurora concentrated on Soleil’s instructions, their expressions remaining calm as they read between the lines.

  The plan was...that there was no plan at all.

  Soleil was totally lying about help coming. Everything about this had the rotten scent of betrayal and ambush, and it had been executed perfectly. If help did come, it would be too late.

  Soleil continued to sign, and Fleur and Aurora struggled to stay expressionless.

  “Are we all clear on this then?” Her dimples flashed again, and the rookies’ anxiety lessened even more.

  “Ma’am, yes, ma’am,” they roared energetically, their confidence restored by their leader’s calm manner.

  Totally clear, Fleur thought, her mood turning unnaturally grim. Soleil was telling them that as the city’s last line of defense, they had to place duty above all else.

  Aurora didn’t answer right away. Soleil’s plan was to detonate her grenades, which all officers were trained to use in case they were compromised.

  The grenades would take out the commander, but it would also get rid of a large number of imps, maybe just enough for them to have a fighting chance for survival.

  But Aurora didn’t want a fighting chance for just them, and as the supposedly ‘brainy’ one of their group, she pressured herself to come up with an alternative.

  “Aurora?” Soleil needed both officers’ cooperation for her plan to work.

  “I’m thinking,” Aurora mumbled.

  Soleil shook her head. “We don’t have time—-”

  A narrow section of the dungeon’s wall collapsed.

  “Take your positions,” Soleil commanded, and the rookies, resolved looks on their faces, followed right away.

  A handful of imps burst out of the hole.

  “Engage.”

  The battle ensued, and Soleil bided her time while keeping an eye on her team, making sure that no one was taking any unnecessary risks. She slipped her hands into her pockets, her fingers finding and wrapping around the twin grenades.

  The last ace she had up her sleeve, Soleil thought, but in this case it was in her pants. If things weren’t TARFU, she would have laughed at her own quip.

  Aurora suddenly appeared by her side, grabbing Soleil’s arm as she muttered, “I’ve thought of something.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “Call your heartkeeper.”

  Soleil didn’t even hesitate. “No!”

  Half of the wall crashed.

  Her time had come.

  Soleil prepared to run, but Aurora’s grip on her arm tightened, and the other woman insisted in a yell, “Call him! Your plan might work, but it’s not going to be without casualties, and you know it! But if you call him—-”

  Soleil whitened.

  “Call him!” Aurora pointed at the rookies. “If you care for them—-” She knew she was being heartlessly manipulative, but she didn’t care. “If you want to give them the best chance for surviving tonight—-”

  “I hate you, Aurora.”

  A whisper, but Aurora knew she had won. Thank God.

  Soleil gently pushed her hand away, and Aurora let her.

  “I’ll call him.” Soleil backed up a step. “But I’m also not going to wait for him to answer because...” Her upper lip turned up in an unusually mocking smile. “I do want to give everyone the best chance of survival.”

  Aurora’s eyes widened.

  No!

  But it was too late, and Soleil had run past everyone, heading straight to the horde of imps.

  “NO!” Aurora screamed and tried to run after her friend, but there were too many imps between them now, and she finally had to admit defeat.

  Fleur reached her, demanding, “What’s the plan?”

  “Help Soleil get to the center,” Aurora answered tonelessly.

  Pain flashed in Fleur’s eyes.

  Aurora furiously blinked back her own tears.

  But they only allowed themselves a nanosecond of grief before throwing themselves into battle, knowing that it was what Soleil would have wanted.

  SOLEIL WAS ABOUT THREE-imp-layers deep into the horde when she realized that her plan just might not be good enough.

  A middle-level demon stood next to the hellhole, and as it locked gazes with Soleil, she knew there was a very good chance it might tear her throat out before she could even detonate the grenades.

  The demon charged towards her with a roar, and Soleil’s reflexes kicked in. She rolled, crawled, and twisted, everything purely guided by her instincts. And all the while, she called to him, the man whose heart she was fated to keep in exchange of her soul.

  Can you hear me?

  Please come.

  Please help.

  Soleil called out to him with her mind, with all her heart, even thought the tiniest part of her thought it was too late.

  The demon caught her just as she ran out of bullets. Its claws raked her body and pain engulfed her, but she managed to kick it away, the silver-coated soles of her boots leaving burning marks on its face.

  The demon screamed.

  What a baby, Soleil thought dizzily as she managed to pull the grenades out of her pockets.

  The demon snarled at her, hitting Soleil with its tail and breaking her ribs in the process.

  She snarled back, thinking absently that death was the only thing that could make her act this...childish. She was suffering from internal bleeding, with possibly severe injuries to a vital organ.

  She calculated the time it would take her to die, and it wasn’t that long.

  If you can hear me, please just save my soldiers.

  Please.

  Soleil closed her eyes as she started to unclip the grenades.

  But nothing happened.

  Instead, she felt wind so strong blowing over her, stinging her face, and somehow that wind managed to snatch the grenades out of her fingers. She heard it explode in the distance, and her eyes flew open.

  Oh!

  The grenades had been thrown into the hellhole, and it vanished a moment later, Hell protecting itself from more attacks at the expense of its spawn. Placing her hand over her wound, she looked around dazedly as she heard a tremendous cry of pain. Following the sound, she saw the demon that had attacked her falling to the floor, its decapitated head rolling towards her before it was crushed under the weight of stampeding...imps.

  The imps were running away – from what?

  She tried to see what was after them and caught sight of a streak of white, too fast for her eyes to follow as it slashed its way around the room.

  Oh.

  He had come.

  A cacophony of cries and squeals filled the basement hall, imps dying left and right—-

  Then she saw her soldiers breaking inside, fighting—-

  Nausea hit her, and she fell back to the floor.

  Thank you.

  She closed her eyes
.

  And almost right after, she found herself being lifted and cradled in powerful arms—-

  Pain pierced her throat, and she choked.

  Blood filled her mouth.

  Nooooooo——-

  In her mind, she heard his voice for the first time.

  Why have you only called for me now?

  Start reading today.

  Rhapsody

  This is Rhapsody and Mihail's story.

  Events in this book take place some time AFTER Soleil.

  Zari and Erou play minor roles in this book.

  Sunlight persisted in the last hours of daytime, its rosy rays bleeding into heather-colored skies. Underneath its faded light, a flock of coots floated leisurely on smooth waters, its surface offering a near flawless reflection of the row of narrow neck-gabled houses that ran parallel to the canal.

  It was an unusually quiet afternoon, with not even a single hushed murmur to drown out the crackle of dried, rust-colored leaves over cobblestone streets. And so amidst the silence, fleeting sounds reigned, and this included the footsteps of a figure striding swiftly down from an old, pillared bridge that arced majestically over the river.

  He was dressed entirely in black and wore a grim look over his handsome features. He was on the hunt, with an intoxicating scent drawing an invisible path for him to follow. Gradually, the full notes of its fragrance unfurled itself in the air, and the man found himself sucking his breath.

  A tranquil stream of lavender, a beckoning burst of frangipani, and an intriguing, barely distinguishable hint of poison ivy...

  A scent like no other, he thought pensively, and one so mild that only those with the sharpest senses would detect the dangerous threat underneath.

  The scented trail continued into the heart of Amstel Square, and the man followed it with his customary briskness. He despised waste and inefficiency of any type, and the only instances he was inclined to take his time was when he was fucking someone.

  A short distance away, he heard a panicky rush of words being uttered, watchtower sentries frantically sending out messages to anyone who needed to be alerted.

  The marquis!

  The Marquis of Sangre!

  The marquis is on his way!

  OBLIVIOUS TO THE CHAOTIC flurry of activity taking place within the walls of her school, Rhapsody, seated under the shade, had her head bent over notepad while absently tapping on the blank page with her pen. Already on her twenty-seventh attempt, she was still no closer to finding the ideal words to impart...

  I know you know I am Not Normal. It must therefore have been clear to you from the very start that making me your pet and heartkeeper would be A Terrible Mistake.

  No, no, no. To write such words would be akin to begging for his lordship's pity, and that would not do. Her Master was an exceptionally kindhearted man. He would never set himself free of her if he believed his departure would cause her the slightest bit of sorrow.

  It shames me to admit that I Did Not Completely Understand the duties and responsibilities of being your pet and heartkeeper. It was only when I witnessed the interactions between Lady Zari and Lord Alexandru, your brother, that I realized how Grossly Mistaken I was about my role.

  Rhapsody nearly gagged at what she wrote and quickly flipped to the next page in a rare fit of frustration. Why, it was almost as if she was begging her Master to prove her wrong - when that was not the case at all!

  She knew - and had long accepted - that she was not the kind of girl men would fall in love with, and most especially not men like her most precious Master.

  Vainly she had waited for her Master to break the contract between them, as what was only proper, but two years had already passed, and still she remained under his care.

  It was as if her Master was prepared to suffer for her shortcomings, and Rhapsody could not in good conscience allow such a thing to happen. This letter should ensure that her Master would find someone better. Or at least it should do so...if she could only figure out just what to write exactly.

  Dear Master,

  It has long been made clear to me by A Credible Source that I am Without the Necessary Womanly Assets to properly Stir A Gentleman's Interest. It is therefore best that his lordship—-

  Rhapsody's head snapped up as an unexpected sound interrupted the silent stillness of the air around her.

  Someone was coming.

  AWARENESS RIPPLED THROUGH the gaggle of breathless young ladies the moment the Marquis of Sangre strode into view.

  Tall and strikingly virile, the dark-haired nobleman had a punishingly autocratic air about him that appealed to the ladies' innate desire to be dominated. They loved how the marquis' lethally sculpted muscles were prominently defined against the sophisticated cut of his overcoat, and oh, how their secret parts quivered at his swoonworthy looks, which were as harsh as they were immaculate in its perfection.

  Dark, arrogant brows arched over sinfully long lashes and eyes an arresting shade of green. A patrician nose that was an ideal match for the marquis' bronzed, high-paned cheeks and masculine jaw, which was marginally softened by the firm, sensual curves of his lips.

  When the marquis' impatient gaze swept over them, the girls couldn't help holding their breaths and hope for the improbable. Oh, but could it be? Could the most powerful vampire in the world possibly be here...to acquire a pet of his own?

  A moment later, however, the marquis had swung his back to the crowd, and the girls could only sigh in disappointment as they watched him stalk in the direction of the school's graveyard.

  Indifferent to the amount of attention he was attracting, Mihail worked hard to rein his temper in even as his lips tightened in resolute displeasure. Her scent had changed, he thought broodingly, and in such a way that he absolutely did not approve of.

  Still in her trail, he soon found himself going down a stony pathway that weaved through marble tombstones and grave markers in the shape of angels and gargoyles. That Rhapsody seemed to favor spending her leisure time at a place where the dead slept, he didn't give a damn. That her scent, however, was now tainted...

  Damn her.

  His mood grew blacker, and he deliberately allowed his footsteps grow ominously heavy. He wanted her to know he was coming. Wanted—-

  Mihail's steps came into an abrupt halt the moment she finally came into view.

  Rhapsody.

  His pet and heartkeeper, in the flesh, and white-hot desire struck him like a fucking flash of lightning at his first glimpse of her. His groin had tightened to the point of agonizing pleasure, and his mind had gone completely blank, all thoughts of reprimanding her completely buried under an almost excruciating sense of need.

  His hungry gaze ran over her sylph-like form even as he had to clench his fists against the most basic and savage desire to jerk her into his arms and fuck her then and there.

  Mother of Hell, but she was perfect.

  Long, sable-black hair that seemed made for his fingers to grip. Creamy, ivory skin that appeared to beg for his marks, and an exquisite form of slenderness that would be a challenge for him not to break as his thick, hard cock ruined her pussy.

  Her beauty was tormentingly exquisite; she was everything he secretly fantasized her to be, and her voice, once it came out, was also every fucking thing Mihail had imagined. Lace-soft and hauntingly serene, it was the sound of unawakened sensuality hidden under a provocative cloak of propriety as he heard her speak for the very first time.

  "Master."

  Just one word, and Mihail already knew.

  He would still let her go as planned...but not before claiming her maidenhood for himself.

  RHAPSODY WATCHED THE marquis stride towards her. This was her first time to see him in the flesh, and even without an aid of photographs or portraits - even if she were also to disregard the uncanny resemblance between him and his younger brother - she knew with absolute certainty that the too-beautiful man who had yet to take his gaze off her...

  It could be none other
than her Master, and Rhapsody surprised herself by catching her breath as the marquis came to stand before her. How worrying, she thought, and when he finally came upon her, Lord Mihail Gheorgiu proved to be all her worst fears come true. Tall, dark, and handsome like the quintessential Regency rakehell but also big and strong like a warrior. A flawless specimen of hot-blooded manliness, the marquis certainly was, and it doomed what little secret hope she had left about their arrangement.

  Ever since finding out that her Master, despite being as old as Methuselah, was far from being elderly and decrepit, Rhapsody had worked diligently to prepare herself for his eventual rejection. That day had now come, and yet...

  Why was the marquis looking at her as if she were a sultry goddess—-

  "Milady."

  The rich baritone of her Master's voice distracted Rhapsody from her musings (which were irrational to say the least), and she automatically curtsied even as her brows furrowed ever so slightly. The lush sound of his voice had an oddly lingering impact on her senses, with the way it seductively teased her ears and had goosebumps covering her flesh.

  "It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

  "It is the same for me, milord."

  Mihail stilled. Although he knew his pet was not the type to lie, for her to say such a thing...

  "The past two years," he said carefully, "gave me the impression that you harbored a sudden dislike to my person." He had expected her to respond with a mere nod or a shake of her head, but instead the words had his pet actually appearing dismayed.

  "It might have seem that way, but I assure you it is not the case at all."

  "I offered to visit you upon your arrival in the kingdom," he reminded her, "and you said - admittedly in more polite terms - that it is best I do not bother."

  "Because I was not yet prepared to meet you," Rhapsody explained matter-of-factly. "I did not, however, realize it would make milord think I hold you in dislike. That has never been the case..." She saw the look of skepticism on the marquis' face and struggled to find the right words to say. "The idea of you, milord...made me feel what I believe is called...a mixed bag. And now that you have unexpectedly appeared before me, I feel even more conflicted. Truth be told, milord, the number of emotions I have to concurrently process is...overwhelming."