Claimed by the Demon Hunter

by Harley James

  He stared at her, his expression suddenly guarded. She thought he was going to walk away from her again, but he finally said, “I was planning to use a blindfold this evening, but we’ll save it for another time. Tonight I want you to see the full weight of my desire when I look at you.”

  She reminded herself to breathe as he pulled something from the cabinets, then spread a folded tablecloth across the counter. Her heart revved as he eased her back. She gazed at the dimmed light fixture above her, the row of faux candles aglow, suspended on an iron rack. Her abs contracted when Nate sprinkled pomegranate arils on her belly, the ripe red seeds cool on her flushed skin. “Can I use the blindfold on you as well?”

  “Oh, Jessie.” His hands flexed on her thighs momentarily before he turned away to grab something behind him.

  She leaned up on her elbows. “Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

  Nate moved toward her. The closer he came, the darker his eyes appeared. One of the appliances—the fridge?—stopped humming, the sound replaced by her heartbeat. “Do you hear that?” she whispered.

  “What?” He plucked a strawberry from the tray and rubbed it across her parted lips.

  She took a bite, chewed, then swallowed while he watched her. “My heart.”

  “I do.” His response was like a spell. Dark and secret.

  She wanted to call his bluff, but her mouth was parched. He smiled mysteriously. To stop herself from looking like a lovelorn fool, she reached for another strawberry. He leaned down to scoop her into his arms, but she shook her head. “No, here.”

  “What?”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with all the fervor he’d stoked in her during the last six weeks. “Here.” She needed to do this for herself. Prove to herself that she could be free.

  Daring.

  Prove to herself that JBlaze was truly part of her. Not merely some false persona she’d built to protect her thin skin and bruisable heart. Prove that it was okay to be contradictory. That it was fine to express all the pieces of herself. She didn’t need to be her mother. She could be both Jessie Blaze, attorney at law, and, JBlaze, woman who enjoys sex on countertops and takes care of her family no matter what.

  He eased her back against the folded tablecloth and placed her bare feet on his upper pecs. She brought her arms over her head to grab the outer edge of the counter behind her as he hooked his thumbs under her thong to slowly slide it off, his palms cupping her legs all the way down.

  She thought he’d watch what was being revealed. Instead his gaze remained on hers, pulsing with an otherworldly glow. Somehow it made her feel more vulnerable than if he’d been ogling her nakedness.

  She tilted her chin to break eye contact because even though the lights were low, it was too much. Clad now in nothing but her bra, she trembled as he skimmed his fingernails up her calves, then thighs, before sinking to his knees. He scooted her ass to the edge of the counter, placed her feet on his shoulders and nuzzled her legs with his cheeks, his lips, his tongue as he drifted toward her pelvis. Her skin arced with electricity. His hands found her, parted her, his mouth blowing wonderfully cool air against her sex before letting his tongue slay her with a visceral kiss.

  She sucked in a breath, fighting the super-ego part of her Jessica-brain that said she shouldn’t let him do this to her. That it was indecent. He had his mouth on her bits. On the kitchen counter!

  “Let go, Jessie.”

  Can’t, goddammit. She rose to her elbows again.

  And saw him.

  His dark head between her legs, deep blue eyes burning into hers. His fingertips bore down on her thighs, pushing them apart for his pleasure. Her pleasure. It made something lush and full and hot and wanton flush through her, taking with it that damned repressive super-ego.

  Taking with it self-consciousness.

  She gasped. Her eyes closed as she lay back down, her head twisting the tablecloth as a guttural moan spilled from her lips.

  “Jessie, yes.” His hot breath shuddered against her sex.

  The arches of her feet ground into his shoulders, her knees dropping open further. She charged toward a cliff at a heart-stopping rate. Her back arched as the orgasm erupted. Her chest rose and fell, expanded and emptied, as she rode the sensation through its aching reward.

  “Look at me, Jess.”

  He was on his knees yet, watching her aftershocks with hunger and something she’d never seen in the eyes of a lover.

  Possession.

  She eased up to sit, and still he watched her with that quiet concentration. She reached for him to pull him to his feet. Her fingers trembled as she unbuttoned his silk shirt. It felt even better than it looked.

  “I hope you don’t mind.” She smiled softly. His eyes were so dark, his thick black hair disheveled from her rapacious hands.

  “I’m all yours.”

  She’d never actually seen him with his shirt off. She’d imagined it dozens of times, but seeing him, touching his perfect, warm flesh was undeniably satisfying as she pushed the expensive material down one shoulder. Even in the dim light, she could tell that the tattoos on his chest and arms were incredibly intricate. She ran her fingertips over the heavy lines of gray ink. “They’re very compelling. What do they mean?”

  “Most are reminders,” he replied quietly.

  “For?” He didn’t answer for a moment. Her gaze lifted from the lovely ink to find his.

  “Doing the right thing.”

  He didn’t seem to be joking.

  But he was a ruthless businessman who took advantage of people’s weaknesses. How was that doing the right thing?

  Her gaze dropped, and he stiffened. Her fingers skimmed over his chest, down to his belly where—

  “Oh.”

  Oh, my God.

  Below his belly button, an atrocious scar ran parallel from hip to hip in a jagged line that looked like it hadn’t been properly stitched by a doctor. She ran her fingers gently over the raised skin that was at least two shades darker than the rest of him. She shook her head. He must have suffered horrifically to have sustained such a traumatic wound. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “How did you even survive?”

  He touched her lips with the pad of his thumb. “Sometimes all you can do is gasp for the next breath.”

  It wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy her hunger to know him. But she didn’t want to push too far for fear he’d close down. She eased off the counter and sank down to press her lips to the scar, but he captured her chin and brought her up for another kiss. Then he slipped his shirt the rest of the way off his arms and laid it over her shoulders in an extended, sensual caress before unhooking her bra and slipping her arms into the shirt.

  Standing there in his unbuttoned shirt, why didn’t she feel self-conscious anymore? The scar across his lower belly obviously bothered him on some level. She yearned to assure him that everyone had scars. Some were more visible than others, but the worst ones were usually on the inside.

  She felt closer to him, and the feeling was reflected in his eyes.

  She wanted so badly to trust that look.

  Any woman could fall for a guy like him. She’d had her heart broken a few times, but this situation was completely off-the-charts.

  “The way your emotions run across your face, Jessica, I implore you to never play poker.” Nate sat her on the counter again and moved between her legs. “Unless, of course, it’s strip poker with me.”

  She smiled as he went to work on his pants, never breaking eye contact. Her breath hitched. He was commando. Of course he is.

  He was hard, thick, and weeping from the fine slit on his broad head. It made her feel dirty in the most shockingly liberating way. He pulled a condom from his back pocket and held it up with an arrogant smirk. She took it from him, her hands surprisingly steady as she rolled it down his length. Then their bodies melded, his erection grazing the hood of her sex, back and forth, making her sigh and wrap her arms around his neck.

>   “Touch your breasts for me, Jess.” His command oozed from his vocal chords. The veins in his neck and forearms stood out, the blood pumping through his body on overdrive. She ran her hands up her sides slowly, feeling humid, a lovely languid sensation turning her bones to putty.

  When her hands finally cupped the undersides of her breasts and brought them together, he jerked against her. With a deep groan, he slid into her, and it was full and tight and beautiful, and the pressure was nearly more than she could bear.

  Her hands went behind her to brace against the counter as he grabbed beneath her knees to support her legs. His powerful thrusts rocked and bounced her heavy breasts. His face was tight and wonderfully fierce, his gaze so intense as he watched her eyes, her breasts, and where their bodies joined. His skin was several shades lighter than hers as his body fed hers, building a fire.

  “Do you like that?” he asked, grinding his pelvis against her, and she opened her mouth, releasing sounds of her pleasure—how much he was making her feel—let it out, her throat moving with her vocalizations. Feeling alive, feeling alive, and glittery and…

  Unfettered.

  “I like those sounds, Angel.” Sweat rolled between his pecs, and his biceps bulged. “Give me some of your pretty words, too.”

  His smile was all sorts of….“Recondite, avaricious, rapaciousss… ” she gasped. She danced on the top of the flames now. Her buttocks clenched, her hips driving forward to receive his thrusts.

  “Your brain is a bloody wonder.” He slid all the way out, rubbed his tip over her swollen clitoris, then drove back home. She moaned, her head arching back, thrusting her breasts toward him.

  “Open those luscious lips and tell me what you want,” he demanded.

  “Don’t want it to end.” She closed her eyes because that wasn’t supposed to come out.

  “Look at me.”

  She shook her head, but opened her eyes anyway because…his voice. It made her weak and stupid.

  His focused eyes seared away the last of her inhibitions, his jaw tight as his body continued its passionate onslaught. “Stay with me, Jess.”

  She was riding the edge of that dark, secret place filled with stars. He ran his hands down her calves, clamping them around his waist. Then he shoved one hand into her hair and pulled her body forward with the other, crushing her breasts to his chest. His mouth fastened to hers. His body shook as it slowed. She made a sound of protest until his erection slicked across her clitoris, then entered her again. She wrapped her arms around him and surrendered herself to the joy.

  Her vision went black for one timeless moment before she shattered with a rasping cry. Her fingernails scored his back, and he tensed suddenly as his own release claimed him.

  It was the most quietly ferocious orgasm she’d ever witnessed. Clenched jaw, searing eyes, all those chiseled muscles on lock down.

  Like he was dying and being reborn.

  On mute.

  She slid her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, bringing his face to where her pulse beat wildly at her throat, hungry to absorb the tremors that tore through him so potently. She’d given him this, brought him to this, so it was hers, too.

  Afterward, neither of them spoke as he cleaned their bodies and pulled up his slacks. But their eyes caught and held by the dim light. Then he turned off the oven and took her hand to lead her downstairs to a small media room where a massive TV screen dominated an entire wall. She sensed an unusual energy whirring through him, but she was still so overcome—so raw—by what they’d shared, to talk about it would diminish what had happened between them.

  But she would talk about it. Later.

  Nate stopped in front of a large leather chair to wrap her in a plush blanket. Then he sat in the center of the chair and pulled her down across his lap. Jessie turned her face to his warm neck, placing her lips softly on his skin. Sex with this man was a cleansing.

  Or, given the look on his face at climax, a rebirth.

  For both of them.

  And no doubt impossible to get over.

  Chapter 12

  Nate stared at the blank TV screen, trying not to shift in the chair as Jessie’s lips feathered hotly against his neck, her deeply distracting curves causing a nuclear reaction in his groin. He should turn on the damn TV. Or get their meal out of the oven. Or return to the nightclub to review the grand opening preparations for the hundredth time since Archangel Michael seemed to imply the Earth-Hell Seam was going to crack at Mirage.

  Anything other than think about what had happened when he’d had sex with Jessica. Because something did. Something singular, but he knew not what. It made him feel downright…

  Gobsmacked.

  He gritted his teeth when Jessie paused her descent, her plush lips millimeters from his nipple. “Hey, you okay?”

  He managed to nod. He inhaled slowly and touched the hot pink strands in her hair that he bloody loved. “The pink suits you.”

  “Well, I like your kitchen, your cooking, and…other things.” Her eyes crinkled in a way that made him unaccountably happy, yet wonder if he wasn’t gonna be screwed when the dust settled on all this.

  He slumped back into the chair, pulled her higher into his lap, and hugged her tighter. Christ, he needed to relax. For whatever reason, this woman churned him up. But then, that probably wasn’t so uncommon when a Guardian experienced amplio for the first time, eh?

  He exhaled deeply, his gut unraveling a little until her fingernails raked over the ridges of his abs. She shifted south once more, her breasts now heavy on his thighs as she eased to her knees between his legs. His erection pulsed, aching more so when the blanket around her shoulders slipped unheeded to the floor. His breath caught as she leaned forward.

  She stared at his lower pelvis, her brow furrowed, fingers running across his scar. “Huh, I must have been more tipsy than I thought a bit ago. I could’ve sworn you had a scar right here—a fierce one. Didn’t we talk about that?”

  His heart kicked his ribcage. He leaned forward to look down.

  His breath arrested. What the bleeding hell?

  His hands smoothed across the site of his gutting. The scar—a reminder of his sacrifice—had been there since he’d awoken as a post-human Guardian more than a hundred years ago.

  Yet now It. Was. Completely…

  Gone.

  Bollocks! He eased away from Jessie and stood from the chair as slowly as his racing pulse would allow. The skin on his lower belly shone as smooth as the rest of his chest and abs. Like the scar had never been. How? There had to be an explanation besides the obvious.

  Soul mate.

  No! She was human. Humans and Guardians didn’t bond. They just didn’t. He didn’t even want that. Why would he want that? He was selfish and manipulative and good at his job. He didn’t need anyone to complete his mission of redemption.

  He hadn’t considered having a serious relationship.

  Not ever.

  “What’s going on, Nate?”

  He swung toward the chair where he’d held her close moments ago. Jessie sat on the floor, wrapped in the blanket once more, glowing and tousled and utterly ethereal. Her outrageous allure suddenly made sense.

  He wished now that he hadn’t mocked other Guardians when they’d talked about their soul mates. Wished he’d listened to how that touchy business was handled. Michael had to be behind this. Angelic justice or a test or something whacked like that.

  What do I do with her?

  He looked at his smooth belly again. Then yanked on the hair above his ears and groaned.

  “Nate? You’re freaking me out.”

  That makes two of us. “Uh, I…I need to go. To a meeting.” He inhaled roughly, dropping his hands to his sides. He needed to calm this shit down. But…

  He was arse over elbow mental right now.

  There was no way—no way—a human was a soul mate.

  He’d never heard of anything so epically preposterous. What was the point? She’d die in a h
andful of decades while he’d live ages without her.

  It had been a long time since he’d felt the urge to flee. Need air. He took slow, deep breaths as he walked back to where she stood by the chair, her guarded expression making him feel like a barmy bastard. “I’ll return as soon as I am able. You have my word.”

  The twinkle in her eyes had vanished. “What’s wrong?”

  The hairs on the back of his neck prickled the moment before the house security system tripped, the relentless screech of the alarm piercing his eardrums. How had he not perceived anything wrong? Damned distracting emotions. His fingers dug into the blanket around Jessie’s arms as he layered compulsion in his voice to make her obey. “Audi me. Stay put. I mean it, Jessie.”

  She sank down into the chair with a bemused look. Satisfied she’d remain out of harm’s way, he raced upstairs, closed the door to the lower level, and chanted a protection ward over it. Approaching the front door, Jessie’s amplio enabled him to smell who was outside. Two of them.

  They were human, though. Not demons.

  He relaxed and slowed his steps. When he opened the door, the cool fall air hit his bare chest. A tiny woman with a blonde, pixie haircut knelt amid the detritus of what looked like a volcanic purse eruption all over his portico.

  Where was her companion? “Can I help y—elch!”

  Black dots swam in his vision in a sudden blast of pain. Dislocated jaw. He sank to his knees, reaching out blindly to grasp the solid form that had ambushed him. Together he and his attacker went down hard on the flagstone. A loud clatter shattered the night. He shook his head and saw…

  A tire iron?

  Fury surged through him. He grappled with the tall, heavily tattooed man who obviously knew a thing or two about street fighting. When Nate sensed an opening, his fist connected solidly with the man’s nose, shredding the hoop from his nostril. The man yelled, but continued to scrap. If Nate hadn’t been a Guardian, he seriously wondered if he’d be able to take the guy.