Demon from the Dark iad-10

by Kresley Cole

  At one point, the girl had cried, "Double down!"

  He'd frowned at their hand. "What does that mean?"

  Between peals of laughter, she'd said, "I don't know!"

  But in the end, he and Ruby had won more than they lost, and Carrow had finally run out of shells.

  "You guys were merciless. But I want a rematch soon." She turned to him, caught him staring at her before he gazed away. More softly, she said, "That was fun."

  Surprisingly, it had been.

  Though the child's energy had begun to wane, Ruby said, "We can give you more shells." She scooped up a handful, solemnly offering them to Carrow.

  "Nope. Time for bed."

  The girl grumbled but did rise. "Good night, Malkom." She leaned in and kissed his cheek, then trudged toward Carrow.

  "And to you, deela," he muttered brusquely, not liking Carrow's delighted smile.

  "Come on, kiddo." As she squired Ruby to bed, she glanced over her shoulder. "I'll be back in a minute." She bit her bottom lip in that way that drove him crazy.

  Gods, he desired her, still craved her, but taking her would be reckless. Cannot do what my father did.

  Then stay away from her.

  * * *

  As per Ruby's request, Carrow had promised to hold her hand until she'd fallen asleep, assuring her that she and Malkom would be close by if she woke up.

  Naturally, when Carrow was dying to get back to Malkom, the girl had been chatty, talking about her day with him. Already, Ruby nursed a serious case of hero worship for the demon.

  Makes two of us. When he'd freed Ruby from those rocks ... no one else could have done it.

  Once Ruby had drifted off at last, Carrow crept out of the room, her heart racing.

  He was gone.

  Earlier, by the fire, he'd been looking at her with that dark, hungry expression. She hadn't known if it was an invitation or not.

  Assuming it was, she set out to find him, wearing only a sweater, her leather skirt, and a blanket wrapped around her. She found him on the calm side of the cape, deep in the water he'd earlier fished.

  "What are you doing?"

  His breaths fogged over the freezing water. "Learning to swim."

  "I could have taught you." She laid out the blanket, sitting down to wait for him.

  "I figured it out." He seemed to have gotten the hang of it, swimming with fairly sure strokes. Eventually, he made for the shore.

  She was just about to ask him if he was cold when he rose up, naked and magnificent. Her lips parted. Not cold at all.

  As he stalked toward her with his long-legged strides, she nearly whimpered with need. Water lovingly sluiced down his torso, drops clinging to chiseled abs before reaching his muscled thighs, his narrow hips ... and between. He stiffened under her gaze, his length distending.

  He'd gotten her used to enjoying him almost hourly. Now she'd gone a week without him. She needed release—but she also merely wanted to be close to him again.

  "What do you want, witch?"

  "To talk to you. Have you thought about my plan?"

  He reached for his clothes. "I told you I will consider it."

  "Just look at me." A shake of his head. "No? You couldn't keep your eyes off me tonight."

  Finally he faced her. "You are the one who put us in this situation. I am just trying to get us through it."

  "By not talking to me? By not touching me?"

  He stabbed his legs into his pants, hissing in a breath as he fastened them over his erection.

  She rose, sidling closer to him. "I know you still care about me. When I'd drowned, you were a mess. You were relieved to see I was going to be all right."

  "I did not want my fated female to die, no."

  And he's learned snarkiness!

  She touched his arm, but he flinched. "What can I do to earn back your trust?"

  "Leave me be, so I can think on my own."

  "Okay. If that's what you want. I just thought you needed more, from the way you looked at me."

  "And what if I did need more? What would you offer me, wife?"

  "Sex. I'm offering to have sex with you."

  He gave a bitter laugh. "All you would be doing is keeping a vow you already made."

  "That's true."

  "If you are so eager for it now, why did you not let me claim you in Oblivion?"

  "I don't have sex with just anyone, Malkom. You were out of control at first, frightening me at times. And then when I did offer, y-you bit my breast!"

  "Which I paid for dearly."

  "Yes, you did. But the fact remains that I offered myself to you because I had feelings for you. Undeniable ones."

  In a scoffing tone, he said, "You were that sure of me in Oblivion? When you had no fated tie to me?"

  "I was well on my way to being sure. I trust my instincts. And they were screaming that you were the one for me."

  "A pretty story from a deceptive witch."

  "Malkom, I know it'll take time for you to trust me again. But I also know it will happen. Maybe we can enjoy each other until it does? I'm asking you to make love to me."

  "So I will continue protecting you? You are offering yourself up to a demon you seek to use. Just as before, witch. Nothing has changed."

  "I'm offering because I desire you so much." She took his hand, kissing his callused palm before trailing it down her chest, her belly. ... "Touch me. See how much."

  Seemingly of its own will, his hand continued down. At the leather hem of her skirt, he hesitated.

  Carrow didn't think she breathed until his hand disappeared beneath her skirt. She trembled as his palm grazed up her thigh.

  When his fingers met the wet folds of her bare sex, his brows drew together, and he cast her a look so fierce, part scathing, part adoring.

  A wild, lost male.

  "I miss the way you touched me, Malkom. The way you kissed," she breathed. She was wetter than he'd ever felt her, quivering with need.

  His nostrils flared at the tantalizing scent of her arousal. "Damn you, witch," he bit out, unable to stop his fingers from stroking her slick flesh. His cock shot even harder for that damp heat.

  She leaned into him, laying her palms flat on his chest. Against his skin, she murmured, "Will you kiss me?" Then she licked his pierced nipple.

  He shuddered, cupping her head tight to his chest with the crook of his arm. "Again," he rasped brokenly as his fingers continued rubbing betwixt her thighs.

  Her tongue darted out, flicking till his knees went weak.

  "You want my kiss?" He released her. "Come to me."

  She stood on her toes, leaning up to him, but when she licked her plump lips, he was helpless not to meet her, slanting his mouth over hers. He groaned against her, having missed her lips over the long days and nights in that cell.

  He could fool himself, letting himself believe that they were truly close, that they had no history. Yes, he could pretend that there was nothing between them—nothing but need. He kissed her harder, his tongue thrusting against hers.

  She'd begun moaning, soaking his fingers. When he realized she was about to come, he drew his head and his hand away.

  In truth, there was nothing between them but their need. No bond, no trust, no future.

  She sagged against him, brushing her kiss-swollen lips again his chest. "I want you," she whispered. "Please make love to me."

  He stared at the trees above as a soft rain began falling, misting his face. Lust clawed at him—but if he didn't trust her, then how could he do this with her?

  I have to know my offspring will be wanted and taken care of.

  Earlier, he'd remembered there was a way he could take her and still prevent a child. But it might take more control than he had. Mustn't bite her, then. Else he'd definitely spill inside her.

  So 'tis done? He would have her this night?

  Before when he'd thought he would claim her, his chest had been full of emotion, unbearably so. Now it felt hollow inside.


  Just enjoy this, as any other male would do.

  Finally, he would know what it was like to desire and to possess.

  He gazed down when she began caressing his chest. His stomach dipped as she lightly dragged one fingernail above the top of his trews, back and forth through the trail of hair just below his navel. His cock strained to her touch, the crown jutting past the material.

  "Oh, Malkom." She sucked in a breath. "Stop me if you don't want me to touch you, love. Otherwise ..."

  Stop her? He wanted to shove her cool hand into his trews, make her fondle his heated shaft and soothe his aching testicles.

  When the pad of her finger met the sensitive tip, he groaned, knowing he was nigh defeated. She began rubbing the head, up and down the slit, coaxing until it gave up drops of seed for her.

  Defeated.

  Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her hand away, then lifted her into his arms. He carried her to the blanket, laying her down to yank and tear her clothes from her.

  Once she was stripped before him, he sat back on his haunches, releasing a pent-up breath. He stared, staggered by her beauty, feeling almost drunk on it.

  The mist dampened her flawless skin. Her creamy breasts rose and fell with her panting breaths, her nipples stiffening as if to beg for a lash of his tongue.

  Her heavy-lidded eyes seemed to glow with her desire. "Malkom, please don't stop now." She was squeezing her thighs together, her body subtly rocking with need.

  "Ara, I have never ... I do not know ..."

  "You can tell me anything."

  "I have never done this and ..." He wanted to get it right. To not hurt her, only to pleasure her—

  She wordlessly drew up a knee, parting her legs to reveal her glistening curls.

  A growl was ripped from his chest. As he yanked off his pants, he told her in Demonish, "I am defeated, female." Naked, he dropped to his knees beside her. "Tonight I must have you, else die from the wanting."

  Chapter 39

  Malkom rasped words to her that she didn't understand. But no matter the meaning, she knew they were words of feeling, convincing her that she hadn't lost him forever.

  As he knelt before her, he again reminded her of a virility god. His towering body flexed with cords of muscle. His horns had nearly regrown and now flared back, darkening.

  His damp blond hair whipped across his cheek, his blue eyes flickering to that intense black.

  Yet as her gaze followed the golden trail of hair leading down to his shaft, his size gave her a moment of hesitation. If he wasn't gentle, he would definitely hurt her.

  Trust him, you've wanted this.

  When he lay beside her, she leaned over to stroke him.

  But he cast her that stern look, slowly shaking his head. In English, he grated, "No more of your touches, witch, lest I finish in your hand." Then he gathered her wrists to pin them over her head. With his free hand, he readied two fingers to enter her, biting free his claws.

  She shivered in anticipation, her sex clenching for those fingers inside her. "Then touch me, demon," she whispered, letting both of her knees fall wide.

  With a groan, he cupped her with his rough palm, covering her possessively as he slid his forefinger inside her.

  "Yes!" She welcomed the insistent stroke, even as she'd begun panting for more.

  He dipped his head to nuzzle her breasts, his hot tongue flicking one of her nipples. With his brows drawn tight, he closed his lips around the swollen peak, muttering mindlessly to himself about how sweet she tasted ... how he'd dreamed of her scent.

  By the time he returned with a second finger, she was nearly on the verge.

  "Tell me you are ready." Before he took her other nipple, he rasped, "I want to be ... claiming you." He gave a decisive thrust with those two fingers. "Ah, fucking you like this." Another unyielding thrust. At his words, she grew even more aroused, and he could feel it. "My female is slick, needing her release."

  "Yes, I'm ready." She sounded as desperate as she was. "Please, demon ..."

  He moved between her legs, his tanned skin sheening in the rain, his shaft jutting eagerly. His eyes were now black as onyx and burning with intent.

  So gorgeous. And about to be mine.

  He gripped himself in his fist, positioning the broad crown against her entrance. "Tell me you want me, witch."

  "I want you, Malkom." She moaned when the head nudged inside her. "I've never wanted like I do now."

  * * *

  As Malkom gazed down at where their bodies were about to join, he swallowed, nervousness and excitement warring within him. "At last to have this."

  At last to have my wife.

  "Yes, yes," she murmured, her hips rolling wantonly.

  With each undulation, her sex moistened the head of his cock, giving him a taste of what he might yet feel, spurring him to thrust. He wanted deep within her, wanted his shaft to be covered in that wetness.

  "Just please go a little easy at first."

  As water drops collected over her pale skin, he began to press forward, groaning from the heat that greeted him. When her sheath enveloped the head, he watched, unable to catch his breath as he inched through her tightness. After so long wondering...

  "Slow, demon." She grasped his shoulders as she maneuvered beneath him, wriggling her hips as if to receive him better. "Please."

  Slow. Somehow. He clamped the backs of her thighs with shaking hands. Spreading her legs even wider, he painstakingly squeezed in deeper. His cock had already begun throbbing, bordering on pain. He wasn't even halfway in.

  And still he watched their joining. A feeling like grief seized him when he realized that he'd never fit her. That her tender body had not been made for one like him.

  "Witch, I cannot ..." Yet her eyes were still desirous, heavy-lidded. "Do you not ..." What to ask her? He could barely formulate thoughts, much less words. "I do not hurt you?"

  "No, Malkom." She shook her head, and the exquisite scent of her hair nearly felled him.

  Truly? If she had no worry, then his was relieved. Carrow would know about these things better than he.

  "You feel wonderful," she added, biting her bottom lip.

  My gods, so do you, woman.

  His resolve renewed, he pressed forward. Sweating as he mounted her, he sank his aching shaft deeper.

  "Demon, you're almost ..." She gasped when he'd gone as far as her body would allow, gloved within her heat. "Ah, there!" She arched her back, and her sex slipped along his cock.

  His eyes nearly rolled back in his head.

  "Carrow!" Dizzy with pleasure, he rasped, "There is nothing better." He wanted to savor this, to revel in the connection. But instinct drove him, commanding him to thrust. He withdrew his hips and bucked for the first time. The bliss of it wrenched a roar from his chest. His back bowed.

  Another thrust.

  Gods almighty. He'd never lived before this moment.

  With a ragged groan, he gazed down at her, telling her in Demonish that she was soft, perfect.

  That this was heaven.

  He stretched his body over hers, heaving forward, needing to do this hard.

  Okay, now he was hurting her.

  "Easy, demon." He didn't seem to hear her. At first it'd been so good, but he was growing even thicker. She was pinned on his length, could feel him throbbing inside. "Please, c-can you just give me a second?"

  Seeming to wake, he rose above her with an incredulous look. But he did go still.

  Denying his instinct was obviously agonizing. His jaw bulged at the sides. The muscles in his torso, arms, and neck were tensed, the ridges sharp. "You are hurting," he grated, his accent more marked than she'd ever heard it.

  "Yes, a little. I need to get used to you."

  Sweat beaded his chest and forehead. "What ... what do I do?"

  "Would you kiss me here again?" She cupped her breasts in offer.

  His brows furrowed as if she'd just struck him out of the blue.

  With a desperate gr
oan, he gripped her breasts with his big palms, kneading them as he took one peak between his lips. His greedy mouth sucked until it was almost agony.

  She arched her back again. "More, demon!"

  He moved to her other breast, still kneading the first, pinching the nipple he'd left aching and damp.

  Soon, she was panting, now craving the thickness wedged within her. "Malkom, now," she pleaded, rocking her hips to urge his own. "I'm ready."

  In answer, the demon gave a measured thrust.

  Pleasure radiated throughout her body. "Ah, yes!" No pain. Only rapture. "More ..."

  Another forceful stroke.

  With nothing to distract her, Carrow noticed how perfectly he ground against her clitoris with each thrust. How his sweat-slicked hips rubbed between her sensitive thighs.

  How he filled her so deeply, she felt as if he were a part of her. One being, unending.

  "Cannot stop again, witch," he growled against her nipple.

  When he drew his hips back, she cried, "Whatever you do, don't stop!"

  Now his female wanted him to continue. Grappling for control, determined to feel her come, Malkom did.

  He bucked against her, once and again, until he found a driving rhythm.

  "Drink me," she moaned as their skin slapped.

  He rose up on straightened arms. "What did you say?" Another plunge of his cock made her plump breasts quiver. The tips were puckered, still moist from his tongue. Had he heard her right?

  "Take my neck ..."

  "Cannot." Already, he doubted he could deny the tugging grip of her sex in the final moments.

  Much less while her blood coursed through his veins.

  Her head thrashed. "Suckle blood from my breast, like you did before."

  "Carrow! Be silent," he hissed, even as his gaze was riveted to that soft, giving flesh. So easy to pierce her pale skin. To drink from her, pleasuring her.

  What would it feel like to have his fangs and his shaft within her body, both gloved by her sweet skin?

  He shook his head hard, struggling to outlast her, to keep from tasting her. Her throaty moans had grown constant, her nails digging into his back, clutching him close. She was on the edge, and he was determined to take her over. Cleave to me, witch....