Desire Me

by Skye Malone

  “Who is she?”

  He sets the wet paper towel aside and takes up a dry one. Carefully, he pats the moisture from my arms and cheek.

  “Amar?”

  “I never met her,” he admits, not looking away from what he’s doing. “I only heard of her.”

  I wait, barely breathing.

  He returns the paper towel to the nightstand and then opens the box of Band-Aids. “She worked for Volgert.”

  I hesitate at the short statement. Worked. Past tense. “What did she do?”

  “She read things about people.”

  My brow furrows when nothing else follows. “Read things?”

  Amar places a bandage on the largest of the slices on my arm, and then reaches over for another Band-Aid. I put a hand to his, stopping him. Most of the cuts are so tiny, there’s no point in covering them. And I want to hear what he knows.

  “Like what?” I prompt anxiously.

  “She saw if they were lying, if they weren’t who they claimed to be.”

  “So they think I can do that too,” I fill in, barely asking. “Read people.”

  He nods.

  “Well, but—” I flounder. “What’s so special about—”

  “Houses use spies, Cait.” He looks up for the first time, meeting my eyes. “They spy on each other constantly. Add to that conspiracies within the Houses—and the fact that when spies aren’t good enough, assassins are there to fill the void—and you’ve got a slew of dangerous people who aren’t what they seem. Someone like Josephine, someone like you, who could spot those people at a glance…” He shakes his head. “You’d be the first line of defense against all of that, and about the best one any House could have.”

  I exhale sharply, looking away. Kyle. I hadn’t liked him. Alistair. I’d been suspicious of him from the start too.

  Amar and how I knew, just knew, he was trustworthy.

  But that could be chalked up to anything. Lots of people have good instincts. Just because I happened to have been right about—

  Amar shifts his hand around, wrapping mine with his own, and I realize I’ve started shaking. I don’t want to be this. A target of the Houses, Katsuro’s people, and who knows who else.

  Even more of a freak.

  “So what happened?” I ask, my voice small. “She doesn’t work for Volgert anymore?”

  He’s silent for a few moments. “There was a power struggle between several of the Houses. I never heard what it was about—just another fight—but near the end of it, she was sent on a mission and she—” He hesitates. “She was killed. Most likely to keep Volgert from continuing to use her abilities.”

  I tremble harder. Drawing in a rough breath, I reach over and grab a paper towel. I dip it in the water quickly and then turn back to him, avoiding his eyes.

  “Cait,” Amar starts gently.

  “So that’s why she never found me, huh?” I wipe the blood from his arm. “Why she didn’t try to take me—”

  His hand comes to rest on mine, stilling my cleaning, and I’m not even sure what I’m upset about. I never knew her. What difference does it make if she’s dead? Especially since, while Arlene was terrible, a demonic parent absolutely would have been worse. Amar’s asshole father was proof of that.

  And Josephine would have taken me away from Dad. The mere thought makes me nauseated.

  So why does this hurt so much?

  Amar’s hand rises, brushing my cheek, the motion tender and kind. “Yeah,” he answers.

  My chest aches. “But what if she, I don’t know, escaped and forgot or didn’t—”

  “It’s kind of a rule among the demons, finding any Legacy offspring you might have. Shielding the demonic world from humans is about the only thing demons agree on. Some have it easier. Vampires, werewolves… they can’t have kids with humans. But succubi and incubi can, and it’s a big risk. If a Legacy is discovered by humans and it comes out that the demonic parent hadn’t tried to find them first…” He shakes his head. “Even Volgert wouldn’t protect her from that. She would have come for you if she was still alive.”

  My skin crawls at the image of Arlene or my stepsisters discovering what I was. And as for my dad… if he’d had to learn I wasn’t even fully human…

  “Has that ever happened?” I ask hoarsely. “One of them not, you know…”

  Amar hesitates. “It’s rare.” At my expression, he grimaces. “There was a kid a few years ago. An incubus, about fifteen. His father never got around to finding him, but this fringe religious group out in New Mexico did. Thought he was some kind of angel. It got fairly messy before the Houses intervened.”

  “What’d they do?”

  He’s quiet for a long time. “The group died in a fire. Kid did too. The father… his House made sure no one would find all the pieces.”

  I feel sick all over again.

  “You’re lucky,” he says quietly. “I don’t know how you managed not to show any sign of what you are till now, but I’m glad you didn’t.”

  I shiver. Lucky. Right.

  I wonder if the Houses would have killed my dad.

  My nausea grows stronger.

  Amar puts an arm around me. A rough breath leaves my chest. I lean against him, closing my eyes and losing myself for a moment in the feeling of his comfort. In the compassion he hides from the world so much of the time.

  “Do you think Katsuro was telling the truth?” I ask. “These Touched? What Linden and Volgert are fighting over?”

  I feel him shake his head. “I don’t know.”

  I nod. I don’t either. And right now, it feels so much like a distant second to finding out about my mother.

  About this bizarre skill I might possess.

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Amar says quietly. “Join them, join a House, any of it. You can stay out of it.”

  I shift around to look at him, a thought striking me. “How did you do it?”

  My question feels a bit desperate and the way my heart pounds only adds to the feeling. Amar hesitates, though, and I can see it. The beginnings of that closed-off look. The way he wants to shut something away inside himself. “Amar…”

  “I made a deal,” he says like he’s forcing himself to speak the words instead of hide.

  I wait, not breathing.

  “I promised the leader of Volgert that I wouldn’t get involved with the Houses or their concerns.”

  I stare at him. “But—” I exhale, flabbergasted by the obvious. “You’re helping me.”

  He pauses. “Yeah.”

  I don’t know what to say. “Why?”

  Amar shifts uncomfortably, like he’d rather escape the question.

  I start to open my mouth to push him for an answer, and then another thought occurs to me. “Who’d you promise?” I wrack my brain for the name I remember hearing. “Lucretia?”

  The discomfort in his expression strengthens. “Lucretia Volgert. Yeah.”

  That explains who she is, then. But as for everything else…

  “And that was all it took?” I prompt. “Just promising her you wouldn’t get involved?”

  He’s silent.

  “So if I—”

  He looks away.

  “Amar?”

  “Lucretia was my father’s… employer. She made an exception for me.”

  He chooses the term carefully, I can tell. It makes my skin crawl and I don’t even know why. For what his father was, maybe. For the kind of person who would hire him, or for Amar being forced to make a deal with this woman for his freedom.

  For how much history I can hear in the words.

  Amar lets out a breath. “There’ll be a way to keep you out of this too. You won’t need to make any deals or throw in with Katsuro, his people, or anybody else. You will be able to stay out of things in this world.”

  He says the words firmly, too firmly, and he never meets my eyes. I can’t help but think he’s trying to convince himself as much as me. Like, maybe he’s no
t so sure anymore. After all, I may have an ability that got my birth mother killed, and helping me has tangled him up in more trouble than he has probably seen in years.

  At this point, staying out of anything might take a miracle.

  I look down, not sure what to feel. I wish I hadn’t messed anything up for him—messed it up more than I’d even realized. I wish there was a way out of this.

  I just can’t see it.

  Amar’s hand comes up, gently brushing a strand of hair from my face, and in spite of everything, tension leaks from me at the soothing sensation.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he assures me softly, and a bit desperately.

  I nod, wanting to believe the words.

  His fingers slip toward my shoulders and tease along the edge of my shirt at my neck. My skin seems to wake up at the contact, little shivers tingling through me like silent pleas for him to continue.

  Silent pleas for him to give me anything else to think about right now.

  I turn to him. Amar is watching me and at the look in his eyes, the shivers grow stronger. Warmer, like heat is spreading from his touch down to my core. My own gaze drops almost in desperation to escape it, but my focus only lands on his incredible lips and stops there, trapped.

  He comes closer. His lips brush mine once, twice, and then they part and nip at my own, urging me to open to him. I do, needing his heat, his taste. His mouth moves with mine while his hands slip down to the bottom of my shirt, slip beneath it. A short breath leaves me at the feeling of his fingertips against my skin.

  Gently, he pulls my shirt up. I break from him, frustration twisting through me at being forced to stop kissing him, but I also want him to touch more of me. I lift my arms. The fabric blocks my view of him for the moment it takes him to draw the shirt over my head. He drops the shirt to the carpet. My skin prickles at the cool touch of the air.

  His gaze roams over me, over my breasts still held in the pale satin of my bra, before returning to my eyes. There’s a desperate look to him. A hunger to make this better that matches my own. He moves toward me again.

  But I want something to look at too.

  I reach out, stopping him with my hands on his shirt. I take the hem and draw the fabric up quickly. He helps, shrugging out of the shirt and then letting it fall.

  That’s better.

  My hand slips around his side while he comes toward me again, his mouth claiming mine and his tongue tangling with my own. I can feel the sweat drying on his back, the bits of wood that made their way past his shirt to his skin, and I know I’m sweaty too. He doesn’t seem to care, though. I know I don’t. He’s shifting around now, his lips never leaving mine, and I’m scooting back on the bed, hungry to feel more of him on me.

  Because we’re going to be alright. We’ll figure this out.

  We always do.

  His fingers rake up through my hair, supporting me while I lay back on the bed and gripping me at the same time. The synthetic fabric of my comforter scrapes at the bruises and cuts on my back, but the pain only lasts a moment. He grabs the edge of the bedspread, yanking it down. I shift around, bracing myself briefly, and then the cool sheets are beneath me, Amar is above me, and I forget about the blankets entirely.

  God, I missed this.

  I arch my spine, giving him access to my bra clasp, and he takes me up on the offer immediately. The hooks give, the elastic loosening. He tugs the thing from me. I hear it rustle when it hits the nightstand. His lips take my breast. His hand cups one while his mouth devours the other, and my heart is racing, pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it. I run my hands over his shoulders, pulling at him, feeling his weight between my legs pressing deliciously on me.

  I want more.

  A breathless sound escapes me and my gaze skates toward the closed door, the thin walls. We have to be quiet, so quiet. Ruby could hear if we’re too loud.

  The wolves could hear.

  But then, Amar sent them away.

  I reach for his jeans. He lifts himself, supporting himself by one elbow, and he takes something from his pocket. His wallet. I don’t know why. But he sets it behind him, not looking away from me, and nods toward his jeans, an almost hopeful look in his dark, confident eyes.

  My fingers open the clasp, but I don’t have the leverage I need. I shift around quickly, slipping from beneath him and returning to the bottom of the bed. He rolls over and lifts himself again, giving me space while I pull his jeans away.

  I glance up again when I finish. He’s watching me. I can see his chest rising and falling, his breaths faster than normal.

  A smile plays across my lips. I kick his jeans aside and start to take off my own. His eyes never leave me, tracing my breasts, my hips, my curves while I slip the jeans down and then step from the rumpled pile of denim on the floor.

  It’s thrilling.

  I climb back onto the bed. He pushes away from the mattress with one arm and reaches for me with the other, drawing me toward him on my hands and knees, and kissing me the moment I come close. His hand moves between us, teasing at the edge of my underwear before slipping beneath it.

  I can’t keep from moaning against his lips when his fingers part the soft flesh between my legs and start massaging me there. Oh god, I want him inside me now.

  With one hand I reach back, struggling not to take my mouth from his, and I tug my underwear away. It falls to my knees and it’s awkward, getting it off from there, but I manage. Kicking it off my heel, I pay no attention to where it lands.

  Amar’s hand doesn’t stop. It’s intolerable. I rock my hips toward him, begging him for mercy, for more than this, with short noises that I fight to keep quiet. But it doesn’t matter; the small motions continue unchanged, torturing me more and more with every second.

  Okay, then.

  Bracing myself on the soft mattress, I slide my free hand beneath his briefs and grasp his cock.

  My heart pounds harder. I haven’t touched him there before, not like this. But I love the feel of him. Strong, warm, soft but hard like iron under silk. It’s incredible. I run my hand along his shaft, teasing at the tip of him, wondering what I could do to make him go as crazy as he’s making me.

  I don’t have long to question. His lips break from me with a soft gasp and then his grip shifts. He takes my shoulders, moving me back. His eyes meet mine for a moment and I can see him breathing hard.

  I smile.

  It seems all the invitation he needs. He looks away, one hand going for his wallet and flipping it open fast. He tugs a condom from inside.

  Finally.

  Releasing me briefly, he extracts his legs from mine and pulls his briefs away. They join my clothes on the floor. Quickly, he rips the small wrapper open and rolls the condom on.

  His eyes find mine again.

  Anticipation and nervousness thrum through me, but I climb over him anyway. His hand finds my ass, drawing me closer, guiding me down. I’m already so wet for him, and for one moment the tip of him slips against me, seeking purchase, seeking entrance.

  And then his cock pushes inside me.

  I exhale, trying to relax and let him into me. It’s like I can feel every inch of him, every centimeter sliding in, and I’ve missed this. God, I’ve missed this. Gently, I ease onto his hips and rock against him while I test the sensation of having him from this angle. It’s different. Firmer inside me.

  I like it.

  A grin tugs at my lip. I press down on him, taking him in deeper, wanting all of him I can have. Amar grips me and pulls me against him, a satisfied noise leaving him. One hand releases me only to return to my clit and rub me there.

  Fuck yes.

  I rock against him harder, riding him, and I clamp my lips shut to hold in a moan. I don’t want to wake Ruby. And the wolves, I don’t know if they’re back.

  But oh god…

  I drive myself against him harder, over and over, feeling him hitting me so deep inside. My breaths start to become shallow gasps and it’s so difficult
to stop myself from making a sound. I want to let him know how good this feels. How good he feels.

  My eyes find his, and he’s watching me like he’s drinking this in. Like he’s enjoying every bit of what he’s doing to me. I try for a smile, but everything feels so amazing that it turns into a grimace that has nothing to do with pain.

  He smiles in return. His hand shifts its motion on my clit, finding some part of me that’s impossibly even more sensitive, and my eyes fly wide. A gasp escapes me. His grip tightens on my hip in response, stopping me from moving away.

  But god… oh my god…

  My mouth opens. I can’t even breathe. He’s hitting me so deep, so hard, and every impact seems to melt my muscles. Heat and wetness is building up between us and it’s everything I can do to keep moving on him. Rocking on him. Thrusting him as deep within me as I can possibly, possibly—

  I choke on a cry. My body collapses against his while the white heat of orgasm erupts in me and floods my veins. I lose the bed. The room. My mind feels catapulted straight into oblivion, bright and scattershot with bliss. Short, begging sounds leave me, muffled in my pillows, held back desperately because I can’t wake Ruby. Can’t let the wolves…

  He thrusts against me harder, rough breaths leaving him. His hands grab me, pulling me down on his cock and grinding my clit against him. It’s so difficult not to scream. My fingers dig into the bed. I clutch the sheets in my fist, hanging on, fighting not to cry out with how much I’m loving this.

  Another orgasm builds in me, tingling through my veins before rising like a tidal wave, poised to crash over me and swallow me whole. His hands grasp me so tight, driving me onto him, relentless. I can hear him gasping with effort, with need. His scent fills my head, spice and heat and something I can only identify as him, all of it as intoxicating as an aphrodisiac. I inhale it while my fingers find his side, his ass against the sheets, and clutch him as tightly as I can. My weight is supported by his. My body rides his, at the mercy of his own yet safely in his control while he thrusts into me harder and harder. I could have this forever, do this forever with him, if only he wouldn’t stop—

  The wave of orgasm takes me, carrying my thoughts away, and I hang onto only enough awareness of the world to know I can’t make a sound. Don’t want to make a sound. And I don’t want this to end either. I’m lost in something stronger, different than before. My entire body seems to disappear for an eternal moment. I become air. Become atoms, each one comprised of euphoria.