Sliding her hand lower, she circled her belly button with the tips of her fingers. Wanting wild romance with a man she couldn’t live without wasn’t just silly, but unrealistic. The passion in the romance books she hid beneath her bed wasn’t possible, and nothing shy of pie-in-the-sky nonsense.
Sighing, she rolled her head on the rim of the tub. Silly dreams to want more out of life. Even more foolish to hang a hero sign over a stranger’s head. For all the sacrifices he made, Nix deserved to be placed on a pedestal, even if she doubted he’d appreciate it. He would likely always be too humble to think he deserved recognition of any sort.
Nix and the concerned expression he’d worn when she stormed out of the stockroom rose in her mind. He’d been worried, even more disturbed when he’d noticed the state of her undress. Zipping her jeans, his fingers had accidentally touched her belly.
The flesh on Madison’s stomach sizzled at the memory. She ran her fingers over the same spot he’d touched and wondered what his expression would be like if he placed a kiss there. Would his sensuous mouth feel as divine as his fingers? Would he lick? Nibble? Both?
When he took a lover, was his hold firm, branding her with his touch? Or would he be gentle? Maybe a combination of both, like today in the supermarket with his hand on the back of her neck, his fingers gently kneading and reassuring. She couldn’t dismiss the strength in his grip or how wanton she’d grown from it. She’d known he wouldn’t release her until he was good and dang ready, and the knowledge aroused her more.
Feeling wicked, Madison moved her hand lower, opening her thighs and resting her knees against the sides of the tub. The heat of the water gushed across her feminine lips, and she expelled a long sigh. Attacked and toyed with by a demon, but only one person left her keyed up. Phoenix Birmingham.
Honorable. A badass Sherlock dedicated to bailing her out of her demonic woes even though the possibility of a resolution was as flimsy as smoke. He would die for her and Amos, and he barely knew them.
She’d always wanted a champion in her corner. Someone to stand beside her, to think her more valuable than a pretty blonde gracing a man’s arm. Someone to make her feel like an equal, instead of a second-class citizen, like her husband and father both treated her. All of the things she’d wanted from Micah, the things he’d promised to give when she stood against her father to be with him, none of which she ever received.
Hesitant, she stroked her vaginal lips and shuddered at her light touch. Peeling the washcloth off her face, she scanned the bathroom. Still alone. Not that she expected anyone to be there. But touching herself forced an element of guilt on her soul.
So keyed up. She needed to relax. All those romance books said an orgasm would help her loosen up. Of course, men were usually involved in those climaxes. Men were scarce in her home tonight, except for Nix. He wasn’t offering, and she wasn’t asking. She couldn’t imagine anything more embarrassing than asking her hero to give her release.
Maybe one would help. Maybe it wouldn’t. Too reserved to touch herself often, she could count the number of climaxes she’d received on one hand. And none of them were thanks to Micah. Now would be an appropriate time to discover if those trashy romance books held any value other than escapism from life’s trials.
She tugged the washcloth back over her eyes and draped her arm along the edge of the tub. Nix’s image rose behind her eyes. Placing the pad of her finger against her clitoris, she circled the hood and moaned into the cloth covering her face.
Dang…that felt good. Really good.
Dipping a finger between her lips, she pressed it inside herself. The water sloshed as her hips rose to meet the glide of her touch. Unsure, she thought the wetness might be due more to the image of Nix stroking her there than the bath water.
Nix smiled in her mind’s eye, as she swept her finger over her clit again and again, faster and harder. The waves in the tub grew until they swelled over the edge and splashed against the floor.
Laughing, Nix winked at her…she stiffened, her toes curled into the porcelain, her other hand circled the edge of the tub in a death grip, and she moaned as she climaxed beneath her fingers.
Breathing hard, she lay there, the flesh between her thighs pulsing. She should have been satisfied, and she was, but she wanted something more. She should have known her release would leave her feeling unfulfilled.
She removed her hand from between her legs, snatched the washcloth off her face, and tossed it across the room. Sitting up, she dropped her face into her palms and groaned.
What was her problem? She didn’t masturbate and she disliked sex. She shouldn’t have thought of Nix while touching herself. The man deserved more from her than fantasizing about him as if he were some glorified rock star. She respected him and thought of him as her friend.
This wouldn’t be repeated. Not ever again!
Chapter Twenty-One
Madison opened her eyes. Or thought she did. Pitch black—cave black—not even the slightest sliver of light met her view. She blinked rapidly, tried to turn her head, and discovered she couldn’t move it. Neither could she move her arms. They were locked at her sides, kind of how she imagined a straightjacket would feel.
This could be counted as the weirdest dream ever. She wiggled her toes, her fingers…or rather, tried to wiggle them. None of the digits budged.
She coughed and gagged as something clogged her nose, pushing into her sinuses hard enough to make them burn. Oh, God, she would suffocate, trapped in a nightmare.
Wake up!
Nothing altered.
Smoky and feathery, buzzing like wasps, swarming around her head, moving over her eyes like maggots.
Bugs! Bugs!
Calm down. She tried to reason with herself, but just the thought of bugs made her skin want to crawl. Not wanting to make them angry, she resisted the urge to bat them away.
Not that I can move to swat them!
Deep breath in. She gagged and choked on the swarming bugs. Breathing in deep breaths obviously wasn’t helping. Refocusing, she put all her effort into trying to move, grunting and panting from her exertion. Not a muscle twitched, proving something dangerously wrong commanded the situation.
Snakelike coils circled her throat and held her down, cinching tighter and tighter until she gasped for air. The buzzing bugs attacked with vehemence, slamming into her mouth. Eyes wide open to blackness, tears streaming into her hair, she could do nothing as her body jerked from the force of the swarm.
They wanted inside her.
Instinct told her she’d die if they succeeded. She knew it deep in her soul. No one would be left to protect her son if she didn’t stop this from happening.
The bugs retreated, and Madison gasped in a long breath. She remained unable to twitch a toe. She took another deep breath to scream, and the choking creatures rammed to the back of her throat with enough force she convulsed.
Coughing and gagging, unable to catch her breath as the bugs twisted and gyrated, not giving up. She tried to stave off panic, but wings buzzed in her throat. The mental pep talk alarmed her as much as the persistent paralysis. If just a dream, it went down as the worst nightmare ever.
Her head swam. Tears ran in rivulets into her hair.
She heard a whimper beside her. Amos! Whatever attacked her put him in jeopardy, too.
Please, she prayed. The way she figured, if God existed, he owed her a couple of favors.
The mass abandoned her, and Madison dragged in gulping breaths of fresh air. Moonlight penetrated the window, displaying the boiling cloud above her. The malevolence it exuded puckered her flesh. Discovering she could move, she scrambled back against the headboard, stared at the dark swarm, and whispered, “Jesus Christ!”
Not a dream! Another demonic entity sent to plague her.
What could it be? It made another go at her, but stopped as if slamming into an invisible wall when she clasped the Rhombus amulet Nix had given her that afternoon. He’d explained the talisman protected wea
rers from demonic possession. She wondered if the charm had kept the smoky thing—probably one of the possessor type of demons Nix talked about—from getting inside her. If so, she needed to remember to thank him.
The mist gave an angry growl and seemed to freeze midair. How she knew it turned toward the door, she couldn’t explain. It hissed at whatever it saw. Chancing a glance in that direction, she spotted the outline of a man. Solid, broad shouldered. Nothing else discernable until he spoke.
“You dare attack her?” The words were spoken with calm serenity, yet enough menace to quiver the bravest soul. Further proof this wasn’t a dream. The demonic mass shrieked. In the dimness, the eyes of the man at the door flickered as bold as flames.
“No!” he said, more forcefully, as the swarm attempted a retreat. Madison thought he moved, but without the aid of more light, she couldn’t be certain.
“Spare me!” The words came from the roiling mass in a gobbledygook language, but Madison understood them perfectly, somehow.
“Tell me who sent you, and I’ll spare you.” The man at the door spoke in the same tongue.
A language she shouldn’t understand. Madison trembled, catching the scent of sulfur in the room that proclaimed both the mass and the figure at the door demons. Why did she understand demon-speak?
“Petralegija.” The boiling mass moved from side-to-side.
“You lie.” The presence at the door smiled, a row of sharp teeth glinting in the dim lighting. Chilling her to her bones, the sight forced her heart to ram at her breastbone. The roiling mass made a mad, spiraling dash for her window, but before it could escape, it erupted into a series of terrified squeals. It flopped around, fighting a useless battle. The house shook, setting off car alarms down the street. The unidentified person executed a wave, and the mass exploded in a blaze of fire and dissolved into nothing.
“Madison, kitten,” the intruder said, his tone as mild as if nothing just died by his hand.
In the presence of evil. Again! Stockroom demon? Thunderstorm demon? Not that it mattered, because they were one and the same.
Taking a deep breath, she screamed.
Beside her, Amos whipped onto his side, facing her. His sudden movement was the only reason she took her eyes off the trespasser.
“Amos,” she said cautiously and grabbed him, holding him in a tight, protective hug. He resisted her hold, flailing about on the bed with grunts and groans, an elbow to her ribs, and his feet kicking at her shins. She wrapped her legs around his to keep him stationary.
“I won’t let you have him.” She stared at the man—demon. “He’s my son.” She licked her lips; he sounded like her ex-husband. He moved toward her, exaggerated confidence in his bold gait. They were screwed. So terribly screwed.
“You can’t stop me from taking him, kitten.” He chuckled.
He stepped into a beam of light, and Madison’s stomach dropped in a burst of dread. Her ex-husband. Looking not a day older than when he’d walked out her door three years before.
The door rattled against the wall, and Nix burst into the room. Amos shrieked. She held tight; she would be half-deaf from his screaming when everything ended.
Nix lifted his pistol and shot Micah square in the chest when he faced Nix.
“Ouchie,” Micah slurred, and fingered the hole without flinching. Nix went for him without any fear and threw holy water in Micah’s face, or she assumed it was holy water. The demon casually wiped away the liquid with his palm. “Now, you’re pissing me off, boy.”
Micah twisted a hand, and Nix slammed against the wall with a grunt. Nix jerked, trying to break free from some kind of invisible bondage. “I’ll deal with you later, Phoenix,” Micah promised, turning to Madison and Amos. “I have family matters to attend to first.”
“So help me, God, if you touch them, I’ll send your ass back to Hell!”
Micah laughed, tossed Nix a wink over his shoulder. “Deal.” He grinned. “They’re mine. I plan on returning to Hell with them.”
Those words made her blanch, and Nix erupted into bellows of retribution and hopeless attempts to break free of his bonds.
“Oh, God.” Madison gulped when Micah turned back toward her and his vile intent sank into her reality.
“God abandoned you before you were born, kitten.” He shoved a hand into a pocket and sent her a stare of dissatisfaction. “I told you to get rid of Phoenix. Warned what I would do if you ignored my request.” He flicked a finger at Nix and a seam of flesh opened up on his bare arm.
“No!” She cried. Micah whipped her with his glare. When should she go for the blade tucked beneath her pillow? “Tell me what you want not to hurt him?”
“Madison, don’t!” Nix yelled.
Micah’s fire-lit eyes narrowed on her. “Come willingly with me and claim your rightful seat.”
For a long while, she stared at him, ignoring Nix’s grunts and groans signaling his desperate attempts to gain freedom. She could think of only one thing to do to get them out of this mess.
Swallowing past the lump at the back of her throat, she hugged Amos tight, kissed the top of his struggling head. “I love you, Amos.” She let him go, grasped his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. Those strange eyes—so like Micah the demon—stared back at her, almost breaking her resolve to follow the plan of action forming in her head. But she wouldn’t let Micah take him without a fight. “I love you, baby…I love you.” She kissed his forehead and slipped her hand beneath her pillow, her fingers snagging the silver blade Nix gave her, and she rolled out of bed.
“No, Madison! Don’t go near him!” Nix bellowed and went frenzied in his struggling.
Putting one foot in front of the other, she realized what it must feel like walking toward death. A hollow emptiness filled the void where fear normally resided.
“That won’t hurt me.” Micah nodded at the blade in her hand and swaggered at her with the confidence of one who knew he controlled the situation.
“He’s a demon, Madison.”
She knew and still planned to follow through with her plan. Nothing, save rescuing Amos and Nix could matter at this point.
“‘He’s a demon, Madison,’” Micah mimicked, arching a blond eyebrow at her. “Isn’t that just adorable,” he drawled, catching her chin and tilting her head back. “A Sherlock protecting you from your husband.”
“You’re not my husband.”
“Husband?” Nix sounded confused. She chanced a glance in his direction.
“I am your husband, married you in your father’s church, and took your virginity on our honeymoon in Paris.” He grinned. “Aren’t you happy to see me, kitten?” His fingers slid into the fine hairs at the base of her scalp.
“If I really thought you were Micah, I’d drive this blade straight through your miserable heart.”
She ground her molars at his cocky chuckle. “You weren’t violent when I married you, and you’re not now, kitten.”
A hot finger slid down her jaw to her chin. She ignored it, but she couldn’t ignore his blistering fingers on the back of her neck. No doubt he left burns. No question he intentionally branded her with his touch.
Madison endured the trail of his finger over her throat, along her shoulder, and down her arm. Lifting her hand, he studied her fingers. “Where’s your wedding band and engagement ring?”
“Pawned the engagement ring, and flushed the freaking wedding band down the toilet.”
She heard a chuckle from Nix. Micah’s eyes burned with angry flames deep at their core.
He smacked her, not hard, but enough to surprise her and speak his displeasure. For her tone? Or because she’d disposed of the tokens of her marriage in such an insolent fashion? Angry at his departure, she’d needed to vent her anger. She thought she’d taken the healthiest course.
“I’ll forgive you, just this once.”
“How noble.” She jerked to get out of his grasp, but his grip held true, as his fingers on her neck continued to blister her skin
.
“I have a gift for you. Protection from demons.”
“Protection from you, too?”
He clucked at her sarcasm, a lazy smile touched his lips, and he dug something out of his pocket.
“Madison, run while you have the chance.” Nix, obviously, wouldn’t give up.
She ignored him, while Micah smirked.
Secured between his thumb and forefinger, Micah held up a small, square object, no bigger than his thumbnail. Taking her left hand, he sat the box on her finger where her wedding rings would sit. The top held a raised emblem of a skull and crossbones.
“What is it?” Shivering at the coldness of the chest, evil slithered off it in vile corkscrews so strong it turned her stomach sour.
“Pandora’s Box.”
Shocked? Hell, yes, and he left her doubtful whether to believe him. A month ago she’d been a devout atheist. Now, she knew how wrong she’d been.
“The Pandora’s Box?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“But it’s so little.” Certainly nothing this tiny could hold the evils of the world. Could it?
“Size doesn’t matter in Hell.” He pinched the box between his fingers and pressed it against her flesh.
“Ow!” She tugged, but again his hold held secure. “Damn it, that hurts.”
“Don’t curse.”
“Stop!” She whacked at him with her other hand.
Unmoved by her struggles, he continued to squeeze.
“Son-of-a….” She broke off, gasping and certain her bones were shattered. “What…are…you…doing?” She wheezed the words out past painful breaths.
“Giving it to you. A gift of my devotion, kitten, my commitment to you…to us.”
“I don’t want it. And there is no us, so take it and shove—”
Madison screamed and crumpled to her knees before him. His eyes sparked hotter, as if embers flicked from within. Sick bastard! He digested her pain and allowed her to see how much it turned him on.
“Stop! Please, stop!” Tears blurred her vision, but he compressed harder, unrelenting. Madison jerked as pain spasmed through her nervous system with such swiftness she almost lost her bladder.
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