Pleasure Unbound d-1

by Larissa Ione

  Call it a curse of his species that the word “suck” would turn him on, but there it was, a sexual stirring in his gut that was so powerful he had to grind out, “Is that a yes?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Fine.” Gods help him, he was going to take her home. He’d be walking into the lion’s den.

  Nothing possessed a hair trigger like a werewolf on the eve of a full moon, so when Shade rounded a corner on his way to the hospital’s administrative offices and collided with Luc, he expected a snarling backlash. Instead, the were smiled, actually smiled, and clapped Shade on the shoulder.

  “See ya next week, incubus.”

  Luc would be locking himself away for the duration of the full moon, which usually made him grumpier than a Cruentus with a fangache, but today he was downright cheerful.

  “Luc, you okay, man?”

  “Oh, hell, yeah.” Luc sauntered off, the strike of his boots on the stone floor echoing through the halls.

  Weird. Shade made a mental note to check the ambulances’ drug boxes and continued down the hall to admin. He propped himself against the door jamb of Wraith’s office and watched his brother throw on a worn leather jacket. “Where are you off to?”

  “Mongolia. E wants some special mana crap for his collection of ‘what ifs.’”

  Laughing, because Eidolon was always sending Wraith to retrieve rare artifacts, potions, and materials for the hospital on the off-chance that they might be needed, Shade entered the room, which was little more than a junk closet. Wraith’s job at the medical center was, in truth, to acquire nontraditional supplies unique to demon medicine, and his office reflected his haphazard method of researching and locating said supplies.

  As Shade was a control freak, Wraith’s utter lack of organization in any aspect of his life gave him heartburn.

  Wraith shoved a set of knives into his chest harness and a Glock into his thigh holster. Two more blades slid into ankle holders, and various vials of poisons and holy waters got tucked into the dozens of hidden coat pockets. The guy didn’t screw around when it came to a mission, especially since he made enemies wherever he went.

  “I’m worried about E,” Shade said abruptly. “He introduced my face to his fist a little while ago.”

  Wheeling around, Wraith let out a low whistle. “He decked you? E? That’s not like him.”

  No, it wasn’t. Shade and Wraith regularly went at it, but Eidolon usually kept his fists to himself. “I think the s’genesis is making him unstable.”

  Wraith snorted. “Just because he healed the slayer when he should have killed her, boned her, and then instead of giving her to Yuri—which I was against but really, it would have been the smart thing to do—he’s giving her a lift home?”

  Shade digested that for a second, and then it all came back up like acid in his esophagus. “Eidolon had sex with the Aegi butcher? In the hospital?”

  “Yep. I caught a whiff of him right afterward.” Wraith plopped down on the edge of his desk, spilling papers and pens all over the floor. “Who would have seen that coming? Mr. Stick Up His Ass finally getting laid in the hospital. With a patient. And an enemy to top it off? I’m not sure if we should throw him a party or throw him into a firepit for being so stupid.”

  Shade pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off what was going to be a killer headache. Fuck. This was worse than he’d thought. Clearly, The Change was messing with Eidolon’s judgment and sex drive, and that meant they were all in a lot of trouble. If Eidolon couldn’t control himself, there wasn’t a whole lot of hope for Shade or Wraith.

  “He needs a mate.” A mate wouldn’t stop the s’genesis, but it would stop the out-of-control need to impregnate every female in the underworld.

  “Yeah, right. How often do we find females who are willing to spend the next six hundred years with us? I don’t know about you, bro, but there isn’t a female in the universe I’d tie myself to for that long.”

  And there was the rub, the reason so few Seminus demons mated. Mating was for life, and the only way out was to kill the other. The fear of mating often outweighed the fear of s’genesis. Shade had never known a single Seminus male who had mated. Only Eidolon had ever shown any desire to do so, but worthy females were rarer than fallen angels, and so far, he’d come up empty.

  “E just needs to stop fighting it. Maybe it won’t be that bad. We’ve known Sems who didn’t change much after the transition.”

  “Name one,” Shade said, and then silently screamed, Don’t say it, don’t say it—

  “Roag.”

  Hell’s fires.He hated talking about Roag, hated how he and Shade had been at odds before his death. Roag had never understood Eidolon’s need to protect Wraith, even though Roag had been there in the Chicago warehouse nearly eighty years ago. When Roag died, Eidolon had been devastated, but Shade had been more relieved than anything.

  “Roag doesn’t count. He was such a bastard that he didn’t have a lot of room to turn into—”

  “A dick?” Wraith offered. “You’re right. He was always that. What about Otto?”

  Shade sighed. “He’s the only one, and he did have to give up his vet practice.”

  “He still worked there part-time. Maybe E can keep working here so Yuri the Asshole doesn’t have to take over once you’ve gone over, too.”

  “We can’t count on that,” Shade said. “And even if he’s stable enough to keep working, he’ll have to limit himself to admin crap, stay in his office.” A post-s’genesismale couldn’t control himself in the presence of fertile females, would immediately change form to match theirs and try to seduce them. If seduction didn’t work, force often did.

  “This is bullshit.” Wraith pushed to his feet. “We’re all going through the transformation, and you two whining about it won’t change anything.” He ran his finger over his rack of weapons, snagged a flail, and grinned as he slammed it home through a loop in his leather harness. “I can’t wait. Bring it on, baby.”

  Gods, Wraith had issues. Sure, Shade wasn’t going to fight the s’genesis like Eidolon was—fuck if he was going to store blood for transfusions in hopes it would hold off The Change—but he also wasn’t looking forward to it. He just wished he could take a mate. If not for the—

  “Damned curse?”

  Shade scowled at his brother. “I hate it when you do that.”

  “I can’t help it. Your thoughts invade my head sometimes.” Wraith finished loading himself with weapons, probably adding another twenty pounds to his already large frame.

  “My. Ass.” Shade fisted his hands to conceal the slight trembling that always followed one of Wraith’s mind invasions—the same gift Roag had possessed.

  “Seriously, man. That one just popped into my brain.”

  “You being straight with me?” Two big secrets drifted around in Shade’s brain, secrets that could destroy his little brother, and son of a bitch, it made him nervous when Wraith went on an expedition inside his head.

  “I always am, bro.” Wraith hoisted a backpack off the floor and slung it over a shoulder. “Hey, you still seeing that human female? Runa?”

  “Sort of.” Shade doubted their month-long relationship would last much longer, partly because she was growing clingy, and partly because he was tired of holding back with her during sex. Humans were fragile, which was why bonding with them was out of the question. They’d never survive the bonding rituals. Even if they could, the offspring would be half-breeds, so bonding would be pointless.

  “I know she’s not the only one. A human female couldn’t meet your needs.”

  Shade grinned. No single female of any species could meet his needs. “I get off work in an hour, and I’ll be getting off with Vantha and Ailarca about an hour after that. And Nancy, if she ever shows up…” At Wraith’s rumbling growl, Shade sighed. “Let’s skip the vampire lecture.”

  “You can’t trust them.”

  “You’re a vampire, and I trust you.”

  “I’m not a true vampire
, and you shouldn’t trust me.”

  “There’s no one I trust more,” Shade said quietly. He loved E, trusted him with his life. But he had a strong mental bond with Wraith, knew his mind even when his brother’s mind was scrambled. E always followed the rules even if his personal feelings didn’t match up with them; Wraith always followed his heart and instincts even—or especially—if they went against the rules. In a way, E was far more dangerous simply because he didn’t stray from the straight and narrow, and often that path didn’t make allowances for family.

  Wraith cursed. “Don’t start with me. I’m outta here. Locked, cocked, and ready to rock.” He strode to the door. “Do yourself a favor and forget Nancy. Go find that new nurse, the Sora demon. The things she can do with her tail…”

  “I know.”

  Shooting Shade a toothy grin, Wraith sauntered off, his boots falling like hammers on the stone. Shade rubbed his jaw, thinking that seeking out the Sora might be a good idea. Work off a little stress. He’d accomplished nothing in his chat with Wraith about Eidolon, and as time wore on, he grew more and more anxious.

  He’d lost too many brothers. He wasn’t prepared to lose the last two.

  Chapter 7

  Eidolon couldn’t decide whether Tayla had caved in too easily to his request to take her home. He hadn’t smelled deception on her, but then, his olfactory senses were designed more to pick up on the scent of lust than anything else.

  And lust was something that rippled off her in subtle undercurrents, often when she was in the middle of hating him. Or when she was beneath him.

  Welcome to my world, slayer.

  His own desire pumped through him as he glanced sideways at her in the passenger seat of his BMW. He’d have been attracted to her anyway, but the s’genesis was jerking him around, was making the right side of his face throb, just below the surface of his skin, where the marking would appear when the change was complete. The marking that would identify him to the entire demon world as a menace to all things female, and a threat to all things male.

  The Change was coming on fast, and he only hoped his experimental treatment would hold off the worst of the effects, or at least make the transition less dangerous and painful. With any luck, he’d find a mate and wouldn’t have to worry about any of it. Then again, he wasn’t likely to find a mate if he filled his days with hospital work instead of courting females.

  Not that he hadn’t tried. But few females were willing to commit to a lifetime with a Seminus, knowing the only way out of the bond was death. The females who were willing left Eidolon thinking that whatever the s’genesis did to him would be preferable to a life sentence with them. Then again, he didn’t have much choice.

  He was running out of time, and he had no way of knowing if his treatment would delay the transition long enough to allow him to find a worthy female. He needed to act now. Preferably, the moment he dropped off Tayla.

  “Out of curiosity,” she said, shifting her focus from the police car ahead of them to him, “why did you kill the vampire? Why not take her to your hospital?”

  Fury blasted through him once more, and he had to take three long, deep breaths to keep from lashing out at Tayla. “Most of her circulatory system had been removed. I couldn’t save her.” He rubbed his chest as though doing so would relieve the ache there, the one that was starting to grow as his losses piled up.

  She caught her lower lip between her teeth, the action tamping down the embers of his anger and sparking a different fire. “I don’t get it. Vamps are dead. Undead. Whatever. Why do they need a circulatory system?”

  He didn’t want to talk about Nancy, but talking kept him from thinking. Or feeling. “The transformation from human to vampire alters their internal makeup. The stomach takes over for the heart when it stops beating. New arteries and veins carry ingested blood throughout the body. Without those veins, a vampire will die as surely as it will when a slayer jams a stake into its chest. It just takes longer.”

  “Why would someone do that?” she asked, her curiosity genuine as far as he could tell, and damn her, he was starting to think she didn’t know anything about the killings.

  “Vampire circulatory systems must be worth something on the black market, for use in spells or rituals or some crap.” And the person doing the cutting enjoyed misery, because he or she could have spared Nancy by killing her once her organs had been removed.

  “So she fingered The Aegis for what happened to her? Is that what she was saying to you before you—”

  “Yes.”

  Tayla shook her head. “It’s not us. It’s not The Aegis. Our job is to protect humans, not give evil more weapons by selling potentially useful body parts.” When he said nothing, she stared at him with such intensity that he damn near squirmed in his seat. And he never squirmed.

  “What?” he snapped.

  “What did you call her? You know, before you…”

  “lirsha.” He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “Loosely translates to lover.”

  There was a slight pause before she said, “She was your lover?”

  “Not mine. Shade’s.” But she’d been at UG almost since the beginning, and he’d always liked the quirky nurse. Shade’s sister, Skulk, had once said that Nancy’s aura burned bright, more colorful than that of other vampires, which hadn’t been a shock. He’d never seen the nurse in a bad mood.

  Wrapping her arms around herself as though cold, Tayla braced her shoulder against the window. “Turn here and park anywhere.”

  He looked around the area in disgust. He hadn’t been sure what to expect from the slayer’s neighborhood, but the ghetto wasn’t it. Not even the cheery April sunlight could put a shine on the graffiti-tagged, run-down character of the neighborhood.

  “You won’t want to leave your car for more than thirty seconds, or it’ll be stripped or ripped.”

  “It’ll be fine.” He parked between a furniture truck and a lowered pickup riddled with bullet holes, and they got out of the car.

  When Tayla glanced hesitantly at the vehicle and then back at him, he shook his head. “Trust me. People will walk by like they don’t even see it.” The BMW wouldn’t literally be invisible, but the Deflection spell that came standard on demon-dealer autos meant his BMW didn’t attract human attention. They’d see it, but it would register only in their subconscious.

  “Whatever. Your loss. My keys are at HQ, so I hope the super is around.”

  She led him to a building roaches wouldn’t call home, and after picking up a key at the office, they climbed two flights of rickety stairs. When she opened her door, she swore.

  “Mickey!”

  Eidolon stepped inside the apartment, not bothering to hide his shock. The place was a dump. Not filthy—Tayla obviously cleaned—but she didn’t have a lot to work with. The ceiling, stained by generations of water leaks and mold, bowed as though on the verge of collapse. Gray paint peeled like shredded skin from the walls, and holes the size of his foot pockmarked the vinyl flooring.

  And scattered throughout were bits of foam that had once belonged inside one of the cushions on the orange seventies-style sofa.

  “What happened?”

  “Mickey. My ferret.”

  “You have a pet weasel?” Said weasel poked its brown head out of the ragged hole in the cushion.

  “He’s a ferret.” She moved into the kitchen, which could barely be called such. The fridge, more rust than metal, rattled like it was on its dying breath, and if the ancient stove worked, he’d sell one of his brothers into Neethul slavery. He might do that with Wraith, anyway.

  Maybe The Aegis wasn’t involved in the demon organ ring, after all. If they were, they could afford to pay their people more.

  “He must be starving,” she said, pouring what he assumed was weasel food into a plastic margarine container. “How long was I in the hospital?”

  “Three days.”

  “My poor baby.” Her voice was a soothing croon but it did the opposite to
him, and when she bent to place the bowl on the floor, he watched the way the scrub pants molded to her rounded ass. His mind fuzzed out, and he realized he’d taken three steps toward her. The way she stroked the weasel’s narrow head, yeah, if she’d touch him the way she was touching the little animal…

  Shit. He halted in his tracks, feeling flushed and hot and way too short-fused to be anywhere near any female, let alone a female like Tayla.

  The weasel tackled the bowl, flinging pellets everywhere. Tayla straightened and turned, a smile curving her full lips that he was suddenly picturing on his.

  He had to get out of there.

  She dug an orange out of a bag on top of the stove, which was pretty much her only counter space, and then grabbed a bag of marshmallows from one of the two cupboards.

  “Three days that felt like three years.” She bit into a marshmallow and watched him, her gaze secretive, and he wondered what was going on in that pretty head.

  He knew what was going on in his, and she’d probably kill him for it.

  “Look, I have to go. If you need anything—”

  “Like what?”

  Like, for instance, help when you grow horns and scales as your demon DNA kicks in.

  “Your wound. The stitches will need to be removed.”

  “I’ll do it myself.”

  “I’d like to follow up with you.” He drew a card from his pocket and placed it on the TV tray that must serve as her kitchen table. “Here’s the hospital phone number. Say the words on the back before you dial.”

  “An underworld communications system?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Are you this dedicated to all your patients? Or am I special?”

  “Both.”

  Under normal circumstances, he couldn’t have cared less if a human lived or died. But the half-demon mating-gone-wrong thing fascinated him, and the Aegi issue guaranteed that he wasn’t going to let her go that easily.

  Then there was the fact that just looking at her made his blood run hotter than his normal body temperature of one-oh-nine.

  Gods, she was thin, but as hard and sleek as a Trillah demon, but he knew firsthand how soft and pliant she could go beneath his touch. Knew how her slim hips could take his thrusts, how her long legs wrapped around him to hold him deep.