by Larissa Ione
She would do neither. Just a few days ago, she’d have spent hours with Ashan, but she was saving herself for Yenrieth.
Saving herself? She shook her head to clear it. Why in the name of all that was unholy would she save herself?
Frustrated, she snarled, kicking the demon as she strode past, seeking the flagon of wine they kept on their rickety wooden table. She drank deeply, hoping the liquid would ease the fever in her body. Yenrieth’s kiss had stirred her into a frenzy, and it had taken more self-control than she’d ever needed to keep from palming his cock while they kissed. Visions of dropping to her knees and taking him in her mouth had filled her head. She took almost as much pleasure from watching a male come as she did from coming herself, and she instinctively knew that Yenrieth’s climax would be nothing short of remarkable. His hard body would strain, and all that magnificent vitality and strength would be unleashed inside her.
Finally, the sounds of sex reached the peak, and a moment later, Sabbet joined Lilith at the table, wrapped in a sheer robe. Ashan dressed quickly and scurried out the door.
“Where have you been?” Sabbet asked.
“I was seducing an angel.”
Sabbet went taut, her eyes narrowing into angry silver slits. “Yenrieth?”
Interesting. “Yes. Why?”
Sabbet’s hiss sprayed droplets of spittle. “I want him for my heat.”
“Your—” Lilith sucked in a breath.
Heat. Dear dark lord, that was what was wrong with her. It also explained why she’d walked away from him instead of pressuring him into copulation. A breeding succubus needed a male to be as worked up and fertile as possible when she took his seed.
Her fingers fluttered to her belly, which, if things went right, would soon be swollen with an angel’s baby. And oh, giving birth to the offspring of an angel would take her far in Sheoul. She could use the child in so many ways to bring herself power and glory.
Smiling, she brought the clay flagon to her lips, but Sabbet knocked it away, spilling wine the color of blood down Lilith’s chest.
“Stay away from him,” Sabbet growled. “He’s mine.”
Fury twisted Lilith’s heart, wringing out every drop of affection for her sister. Now was not the time to play fair. This was Lilith’s future at stake, and the angel’s passion would secure it.
Spinning, she grabbed one of the knives hanging on the wall and brought it down in the soft spot between Sabbet’s neck and shoulder. Her sister screamed, then screamed louder when Lilith plunged the dagger into her abdomen. Sabbet staggered backward, tripping over her pallet and crumpling to the ground. Lilith fell with her, stabbing over and over into her sister’s belly, reveling in the grotesque, squishy sounds.
When her sister fell silent, Lilith stood, bathed in blood. Oh, how she’d love to get Yenrieth here to fuck in the slippery warmth. Not that he would. Angels, by all accounts, tended to be prissy.
Lilith licked the blade as she hovered over what was left of her sister. Oh, Sabbet would recover in time, but it would be a decade, at least, before her ruined womb could support a child. By then, her heat would have passed and she’d have to wait another couple of centuries for another. In the meantime, Lilith would become a force to be reckoned with, and Sabbet wouldn’t dare challenge her once she arrived in Sheoul.
Oh, yes, Lilith had it all figured out. If all went according to plan, she would become a legend in Sheoul, practically godlike… perhaps she could even take a place next to the dark lord himself.
All she needed was Yenrieth. And tomorrow she would have him.
Yenrieth spent the longest day of his life in the forest hunting hellrats with Verrine. She’d noticed he’d been distracted, and she kept asking what had happened and if there was something she could do to help. How could he tell her that the only thing on his mind was wicked, raw sex with a woman who all but oozed sensuality?
No, Verrine, who hadn’t yet been intimate with a man, would have no understanding of the pleasures of the body. He’d asked her once why she’d never bedded a male, not even during the maddening cycle of maturity when an angel grew his or her wings. Sex could hasten the painful process… or in the very least, take one’s mind off it.
But Verrine had simply shrugged and said she was waiting for the right male. She was an angel of justice in training, so Yenrieth figured that maybe she saw consequences more clearly than others. Possible, he supposed, since, as a battle angel, he was much more prone to hard living, ruthlessness, and rash actions.
And true to his nature, he’d acted rashly and he’d kissed Verrine. Today. In the forest. He was still kicking himself for that. But when she’d touched his cheek with the greatest of care, asking him what was weighing so heavily on his mind, he couldn’t tell her the truth. So he’d kissed her.
It had been the sweetest kiss he’d ever shared with anyone. For a few heartbeats, Verrine had wiped Lilith from his thoughts. The desire that had been coursing through his veins all night and into the morning had shifted into something less frantic but no less heated.
Then Verrine had torn away from him, her eyes wild, her entire being wrought with distress. Before he could apologize, she’d flashed away, leaving him feeling like a brutal clod. She’d been waiting for the right male to take her to bed… what if she’d been waiting for the right male for her first kiss too?
Ashamed, he thought about going after her, but he doubted she’d be receptive to his apology right now. Or ever.
Yenrieth cursed himself for a fool and flashed to the pool, needing a distraction. Lilith would be perfect for that.
Sure enough, the moment he caught sight of her, his rashness with Verrine melted away, leaving his focus narrowed on the naked female swimming with leisurely abandon. He remained at the edge of the clearing, his heart pounding in a nervous, erratic rhythm. He was never nervous, especially with females, but this one left him dangerously off kilter.
Frankly, it pissed him off.
Lilith floated to the shallows and gracefully eased out of the water and onto the shore. As she walked toward a blanket spread in the lush grass farther up the bank, she squeezed her hair, creating a stream of water that trickled down her breasts. Yenrieth wanted to lick her dry.
Then lick her wet.
Droplets on her skin shimmered in the sunlight as she sank down on the blanket and poured a cup of wine from the vessel beside her. She brought the cup to her lips, and as she drank, she looked directly at him.
Caught.
His heart beat faster. Harder. The throbbing pulse went all the way to his sex. In an almost dreamlike state, he moved toward her, his gaze fixed on hers, his mouth practically watering in anticipation.
Smiling, Lilith shifted, letting her thighs fall open to reveal her smooth female flesh, the delicate pink center glistening. His body reacted to the sight, hardening and buzzing with every step.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” she said, patting the blanket.
“I wasn’t sure I would.”
Her knowing smile said she knew he was lying. “Sit.”
Her command, softly spoken, brought him to a stop. He didn’t like being ordered around, least of all by a human.
Again, she seemed to have intimate knowledge of his thoughts, and she reached out to him. “Please. I meant no offense. I simply can’t wait to have you next to me.”
He took her hand, marveling at how soft it was, and allowed her to pull him down. Her remarkable eyes darkened, and he swore that for a moment her entire body did the same. She held the cup to his lips.
In a husky voice, she said, “Please. Take what is mine.”
Yes. He already felt like he’d imbibed a barrel of wine as he allowed her to tip the cup up, spilling the sweet nectar into his mouth. A tiny rivulet dribbled down his chin, and she leaned forward to trace the stream with her tongue. He barely held in a moan as she followed the trail of wine to his lips, and then inside his mouth.
Unbidden, his hand came up to one of her breasts. Tha
t one touch undid him. In a powerful surge, he swept aside the wine flagon and cup and pushed Lilith onto her back. They both groaned as he covered her, her legs coming up to clench him around the waist. The next moments were a flurry of hands and tearing cloth, their desperation to get him as naked as she was all consuming.
Strange urges wracked him, desires to take her in ways he’d never indulged. Wicked, sinful ways. She knew, encouraged him. Time became a blur as he brought her to dozens of peaks, and somehow, he found the willpower to hold off his own climax. Or maybe he held off because she’d squeeze his sack at precisely the right moment, preventing his seed from spilling with only a touch and an odd trickle of heat from her palm.
“Not yet,” she kept whispering.
This time, when she cupped his balls while he was buried in the heat of her mouth, he rebelled.
“Not again,” he growled, pulling out and flipping her onto her back. Her eyes shot wide, and he resisted smiling at her dismay.
He mounted her, settling over her toned body, and when his shaft rubbed against her mound, she undulated, the raw hunger in her expression replacing her surprise at his defiance. As he dipped his head to suck a berry-red nipple into his mouth, he ground his hips, sliding the tip of his cock through her slit, drawing a cry from her sweet lips. He was so sensitized now that he had to pant through a near climax, because while he was so very ready, he would be inside her tight sheath when he spilled.
Pushing against her opening, he lifted his head to watch her as he slid slowly inside. He hissed as her inner walls clenched around him. Sweat broke out on his skin, and then she was tonguing his neck and tilting her pelvis to take him deep.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Give yourself to me.”
Surrounded by the rush of the waterfall and the rough slap of skin against skin, he pumped into her, the throbbing pressure in his shaft building beyond what he’d ever thought he could endure. White-hot pleasure seared him, and the sight of her full breasts bouncing with every thrust took him over the edge.
Ecstasy took him harder than anything he’d experienced before, penetrating to what felt like his very soul. He roared with the force of it, his seed filling her, flowing in a nonstop rush that made him dizzy. Lilith cried out in what sounded like a combination of pleasure and triumph, and suddenly, the bliss coursing through him morphed, tinged with an edge of darkness. Of shadow.
His head swam as he collapsed on top of her, dazed, a little confused by what had just happened. How could the best orgasm of his life turn into something that left him feeling not only exhausted, but… wrong?
Lilith pushed him aside, easily, as if he didn’t weigh twice as much as she did. Instead of being wrung dry, she seemed to be energized. Glowing.
Her smile was sensual but satisfied as she went to her feet, leaving him sprawled almost helplessly on the blanket.
“Thank you, Yenrieth,” she murmured. “Your angelic gift is going to take me far.”
Bewildered and still fuzzy, he watched her saunter away and disappear into the woods. And wait… Yenrieth? Angel? She’d known what he was?
Wobbling, he sat up. His palm came down on the spot where she’d been, and now that he was no longer vibrating with lust, a new vibration traveled up from his hand to his soul, a soul that seemed a little soiled now.
Demon. He was sensing a demon.
No. Oh, sweet Heaven, no.
Fury and anguish welled up from deep inside him. Lilith had seduced him, tricked him, used him. Sickened, he staggered to the pool, desperate to wash her touch from his skin.
He would never be able to wash her from the wreckage that was his soul.
As he scrubbed his body with an urgency that bordered on crazed, all he could think about was Verrine, and how right she’d been to run away. He was filth, and he wondered what the consequences of his actions would be… and who would pay the price.
Verrine spent several minutes vomiting, her heart aching. She knew Yenrieth wasn’t celibate—no battle angel was. Unlike some angels of other Orders who weren’t allowed to—or couldn’t—have sex, sexual need seemed to be part of the battle angel genetic code.
But to see him with a… succubus… especially after the kiss he’d shared with her, had torn Verrine wide open.
Nausea twisted through her again, but she fought the urge to spill what little was left in her stomach. Maybe this was her fault for not telling him how she felt about him. Maybe she should have confessed that she’d wanted to feel a male’s body against hers.
But not any male. She wanted Yenrieth to be the one to show her the wonders of making love.
And maybe she shouldn’t have run away from him like a frightened rabbit. She’d sent him straight into that female’s arms.
She wanted to scream.
When she’d come upon the pair in the final throes of ecstasy, it had been horrifyingly clear that he didn’t know the female he was releasing into was a demon. Damn him!
Verrine had warned him that his undeveloped ability to sense evil would get him into trouble if he didn’t work on honing the talent. Instead, he concentrated on learning to fight and turning holy fire into a powerful weapon—all admirable undertakings, but he’d neglected to develop other important skills.
And because he was a male, his reproductive instincts were blocked by a succubus’s charm, and he’d missed the most crucial fact about the demon: She had been fertile.
Trembling fiercely, Verrine had followed the demon to a Harrowgate, and just before the succubus stepped inside, Verrine had gotten close enough to feel her life force… and the four angelic life forces inside her.
The succubus was pregnant.
Verrine collapsed onto the ground, closing her eyes to the horrible reality. No one could learn about this. Yenrieth’s punishment would be severe, and Verrine loved him too much to let that happen.
She also loved him too much to tell him about the succubus’s pregnancy. Not now, while he was still a novice. She knew him well enough to know he’d scour Sheoul to find the female, and as a novice, he wouldn’t survive down there for an hour.
No, this was something she’d keep to herself. He might wonder what, exactly, the demon had stolen from him—succubi stole lives, souls, energy, and seed, often a combination of any of those—but with any luck, he’d believe energy alone had been her goal. After all, he was still alive, and he’d have changed if she’d stolen his soul. The seed… well, Verrine would just have to pray he was so drained from the sex that he’d believe the succubus had been after nothing more than the power she’d gain from his angelic life force.
Oh, Verrine would tell him the truth, but not yet. When, she didn’t know. What she did know was that she would move Heaven and Earth herself to find his children. She would make sure they were safe.
“Yenrieth,” she whispered. “I swear upon my heart that I will protect your children if I have to go to hell to do it.”
Somewhere nearby, thunder rolled, as if the heavens had heard her oath.
Inside, her stomach rolled, because somehow she understood that both she and Yenrieth had just been set on a course that would change their lives forever.
About Larissa Ione
Air Force veteran Larissa Ione traded in a career as a meteorologist to pursue her passion of writing. She now spends her days in pajamas with her computer, strong coffee, and supernatural worlds. She believes in celebrating everything, and would never be caught without a bottle of Champagne chilling in the fridge… just in case. She currently lives in Wisconsin with her U.S. Coast Guard husband, her teenage son, a rescue cat named Vegas, and her very own hellhound, a King Shepherd named Hexe.
You can learn more about Larissa and her books by visiting her website at www.LarissaIone.com.
You can also find Larissa on various social media sites:
www.Facebook.com/OfficialLarissaIone
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www.Pinterest.com/LarissaIone (Here you can check out Larissa’s Novel Inspiration/Re
search board, which contains pictures of various demons, sketches of items found in her Demonica world, and photos of settings used in her books, including the crystal cave described in Immortal Rider!)
Unless she can touch his heart, this Horseman may be the death of everyone…
Please see the next page for a preview of
Lethal Rider
Available May 22, 2012
One
Regan Matthews was going to die.
She knew it as sure as she knew the sky was blue. Knew it as sure as she knew the baby inside her was a boy.
Knew it as sure as she knew the baby’s father would be the one to end her life.
Screaming, she bolted upright in bed, her eyes focusing on the glow of the nightlight in the bathroom. It took a second to realize she was awake, safe and secure inside The Aegis’s Berlin headquarters.
The dream had come to her again, the one where she saw herself lying on a floor and covered in her own blood, too much blood. Thanatos, known to much of the human population as Death, fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse, knelt next to her, blood coating his hands, dripping from his pale hair, and splashed across his bone armor.
She took a deep, calming breath, forcing herself to relax. Thanatos couldn’t touch her. Not here, in the apartment complex deep below the headquarters building that housed the twelve Elders who ran the ancient demon-hunting organization. Most of the Elders used their apartments only when they came to Germany for Aegis business, but Regan had called this spartan apartment home for years, and despite the fact that she was due to give birth in less than a month, she hadn’t done a single thing to prepare for the baby. There would be no decorating, no toys, no cribs.
She’d always hated pastels anyway.
Her hand, so pregnancy-swollen that she no longer wore her Sigil ring, trembled as she rubbed her belly through the cotton fabric of the maternity nightgown, hoping the baby would stay asleep. He was one hell of a kicker, and her organs were still recovering from his last round of hacky sack.
Regan fumbled in the darkness for the bedside table lamp. Her hand fell first to the hellhound-spit coated Aegis dagger all twelve Elders were required to carry as defense against evil Horsemen, and then to the bit of parchment next to the lamp. She allowed herself a moment to smooth her fingers over the inked lettering. The Latin words were a prayer of sorts, but that wasn’t where Regan found comfort.
