She choked Daemon and instantly regretted it. There was no way she could win with only air in any fight between them.
She wanted him silenced, but not dead.
Maybe she could make him faint from lowering the oxygen in his lungs and then her mother could help her figure out how to fix this.
A good dose of amnesia would be god-sent right now.
One tiny drop of blood could doom them all!
How could she be so stupid?
He slumped on top of her chest, surprising her. His thoughts tickled against her mental barrier, so she knew he wasn’t unconscious.
Her air still held his lungs, choking off his supply of oxygen.
They were at an impasse. He could fight back with his own air at any time, so she had to quickly come up with another strategy.
“I’m going to release you on the count of three after I explain something,” she said.
The first step of bargaining, offer something.
He didn’t respond. He couldn’t with her chokehold.
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” she started. “When I said no feeding, I also meant no tasting. My mother hasn’t given me permission to join a harem yet. My sister’s stronger magic gives her a better chance.”
The second step of bargaining, outline your position.
His body didn’t move an inch to indicate he heard her, agreed or disagreed.
She cleared her throat, feeling the weight of his heavy silence, as well as the muscled chest, slumped over her.
The third step of bargaining, ask for what you want.
“I would appreciate it if you kept quiet about this little accidental taste until I can talk it over with my mother.”
He had to be getting lightheaded by now. If it had been anyone but another with air that she had choked, then he would have passed out.
Time for the last step of bargaining, make sure he knew she had him over a barrel.
“I would hate to have to have this claim erased if my mother was to find out about it before I could talk to her first,” she said.
She didn’t know why he wanted her under his claim so badly, but it was the only thing she had that she knew he wanted.
All of this wouldn't matter if he really had figured out she had lightning. Lies were on her lips that she had prepared for this possibility. She just didn’t want to waste them if it was unnecessary.
How much information could he get from a drop of blood?
“One,” she counted.
He propped himself up on his elbows, heat and pressure lifting off of her, with relief.
“Two,” she said.
Those intense eyes were back on hers.
“Three,” she said and released her magic.
“Any more foreplay, sweetheart, and I’ll think you’ve changed your mind,” he warned.
She didn’t have the air to restrain him again. Using it against him had taken more out of her than she’d realized.
Air had always been her weaker power. She felt like she had run a marathon, while he looked like he’d taken a mere brisk walk, energized to do more now that he was warmed up.
He looped her wrists in black fire and tied them to the bed over her head. She didn't resist, limp and spent.
She couldn't risk using lightning. Her heart was thumping so furiously, she was sure he could hear it.
His triumphant gaze met her defiant one.
Did she really attack the first prince?
The dark enforcer of Maeren’s laws and the strongest demon in the land versus a nobody, upstart witch with air who was barely a light breeze next to his hurricane-force power.
“You were saying something about keeping your secrets?”
“You fed on me,” she accused.
The chokehold hadn’t phased him at all. Even lightning may not have been enough.
He was so much stronger than she had realized.
“That wasn’t a feed. I took the barest taste. How else will I slip under your mother's barrier without a little of your blood to hide me?”
He sounded so reasonable and calm, while she was soaked in sweat from her efforts.
“Unless you don't want me to go . . .”
He kissed her. His tongue slipped past her surprised lips to tangle.
Her fire-bound hands couldn't push him off.
He cupped her face on both sides, thumbs easing her jaw open so that he could kiss deeper, thrusting his tongue against her shyer one.
She had wanted this from the first moment they met. There was no stopping what had sparked between them. She moaned encouragement, closing her eyes as she arched back and let him plunder her mouth.
His kiss was as possessive as she’d expected. He took no quarter, exploring every inch she gave him and demanding more. His tongue slid against hers as he tempted her to push back.
When she entered his mouth, he sucked her tongue in, trapping it against a fang until she explored it, smooth and larger than she'd realized. He growled in pleasure as she learned new erogenous zones.
He followed her tongue back to her mouth, pushing in once more and moaning his own approval when she sucked his tongue deep this time.
He controlled the pace. It took a good, long while for him to kiss her. He was in no hurry to move away from her lips to other parts of her body.
It reminded her of the slow, sweet kisses boys gave in adolescence when they could spend hours making out on the couch.
Her demon prince was much too carnal to be mistaken for a boy. His firm lips plied upon hers with experienced nibbles, licks, and sucks that kept her on edge.
When she turned to gasp, his tongue finally slipped from her mouth.
He immediately tangled his fingers in her hair. He tugged her back into position and growled against her lips. Her head was held firm for him to devour her mouth one tantalizing bite at a time.
He wasn’t done with her yet.
She pulled against the fire chaining her to the headboard as he continued kissing. The chain tightened but didn't give.
She clenched her thighs against the ache that responded to his dominance. Her fiery wrist restraints kept her focus on their mouths, making her helpless to his deep thrusts, opening under him as his tongue demanded.
They wouldn’t stop kissing until he was good and ready.
What seemed like hours later, he pulled back. Her mouth was swollen from all of his kisses. He sucked her tender lower lip, catching her plump flesh between blunt teeth.
Her eyes fluttered open. He brushed his thumbs against her cheekbones, the roving touch reminding her that while she may have kissed him blindly, he had probably watched her every reaction.
The hot stare that met her pleasured gaze went straight to the ache he had created when he first tied her up and stole her lips.
Slowly, he lowered her head onto the pillow and continued to kiss her. He rolled her bottom lip between his teeth again before sucking it into his mouth.
Releasing her head to slide his hands up her arms, his hands joined with her bound ones. His fingers weaved in between hers and gently squeezed her hands.
She relaxed into his embrace, completely surrendered to the moment.
When he finally released her bottom lip, he licked the bite-swollen flesh, thrusting his tongue in her mouth to taste the faint salt of the sweat from her earlier struggles.
“So sweet,” he told her, breaking from the kiss.
He was still stretched out over her to keep their hands clasped, where she was bound to the headboard. His dark gaze looked possessively over her features.
“How could you deny me a taste of your air and my lightning mixed, my own sweet storm?”
“Your lightning?” she whispered.
All of her cylinders were not quite firing yet to interpret his flowery speech as she stared at his lips. She was lightheaded from his kiss, her chest pounding as fear mixed with desire.
These Maerenian males were bad for her heart.
He had gotten as good as he gave.
His kiss-swollen lips were reddened, where her teeth had pressed as she tongued him deeply.
She wanted her hands free to feel the stubble that had gently abraded her soft skin and to find out if his ebony hair was as cool and silky as it looked.
“My lightning mixed with your blood from the tattoo,” he explained.
Her lightning had been hidden by his magic! Or at least, he hadn't noticed hers.
He had expected his lightning when he licked that drop of blood from the tattoo with his magic-imbued ink.
Of course! It was exactly like when he had mistaken his scent covering hers.
The claiming had saved her.
She'd choked him for it!
There were a thousand butterflies in her stomach, wings pushing at her from all sides to escape. Uncertainty twisted her under him.
The fire chaining her wrists dissipated as if it had never been a restraint.
“You can leave now,” she said, curling into a ball.
She was still aching and scared. She needed to be alone to figure things out.
He dropped onto his back beside her.
“Hot and cold. So turbulent, storm,” he said to the bed’s canopy.
“Shut up. You are a liar.”
He was the one that said he didn't want her first.
“And you’re so truthful, submitting to a claim and then trying to asphyxiate me before the ink is even set?”
Her cheeks burned with guilt. She had nearly screwed everything up over nothing. He didn't know her secret. She could have accidentally killed him!
“You didn't come close,” he said.
She double-checked her mental blocks. He was not seeing her thoughts.
“You did it wrong,” he added.
So now she was an incompetent almost-murderer?
She turned back around, glaring at his profile. He had a little bump on the bridge of his nose that could only be seen from the side, an imperfection that was strange with the healing magic so easily available in Maeren.
“What did I do wrong?” she asked, keeping her hands at her sides.
She was not going to touch the old injury. It didn’t hurt anymore.
“Never choke an air user unless you are stronger.” His tone implied she was not. “It's easy enough to exchange gases already in your lungs, like in diving. And if you aren't using the big muscles in your chest to breathe, then you can last a while.”
She wasn't sure if he was giving her lessons on killing or protecting herself. His advice was useful, regardless.
“Who broke your nose?” she asked, unable to resist.
“It was a long time ago,” he dismissed.
He suddenly got up from the bed and grabbed his clothes still hanging on the footboard. He dressed, reminding her of how naked he had been with her, in only underclothes and warm skin.
“Wear a shirt next time,” she snapped.
He could keep his stupid secrets if he kept hers, too.
“I didn’t want to get blood on the bed,” he said as he buttoned the red shirt. “Be more careful with your weapons next time.”
The fan was too delicate for a real staking.
“You stabbed me back,” she replied, thinking of the tattoo needle. “We’re even.”
He gave her an incredulous look.
“Offering you the protection of a claim is not revenge.”
“Why do it then? I didn't ask for it.”
She didn't want protection or complications. She hadn’t needed to know how well he kissed.
His clothes didn’t tame him at all. His shirt was untucked and his messy hair revealed that he’d rolled out of bed. A hint of power flickered in his dark eyes as he eyed the fresh ink on her shoulder with annoyance.
He gripped the footboard, white-knuckling the wood while he gave her a mocking grin.
“I already told you. You’re mine, sweetheart,” he said and slipped past the air barrier to leave her wondering.
What in Maeren had he meant?
Her heart fluttered at the thought that he was claiming more than her blood. The devil wanted her body and soul.
Daemon was no longer the boy she had seen in his mother’s thoughts a few weeks ago, a demon that Elizabeth fantasized about, based on tales told in pubs that were larger than life.
He was real and she was in trouble.
This was not the mission she had trained to complete.
How could she stake a heart that she no longer believed was entirely black?
Rise and Shine
“He was so dreamy.”
Nope. Not happening. It was too early for this fantasy crap.
Elizabeth tried to ignore her sister and clamped a pillow over her head.
Jill poked her in the side.
“And now, I’m not dreaming,” Elizabeth whined, trying to squirm away.
She didn't need to peek at Jill's thoughts to recognize her sister’s sarcasm.
Prince charming wasn’t her sister’s fantasy.
Jill’s dreamboat prince was simply a mark to their family.
“Did he kiss you before he stole your blood virginity?” Elizabeth mumbled, still feeling a tad guilty about deserting Jill before the big bite last night.
“He kisses like a . . . dream.”
One of them was having fun despite the early hour.
Her brain hurt from last night’s punch drunk antics and way too many hungry males.
The bed had been as luxurious as she’d thought, once alone, but that was the only saving grace from her night.
It was okay to lie a little to herself in the morning.
Jill opened the bed curtains further and sat on the bed.
“I’m in love,” her younger sister said, determined to live her fake fantasy to the fullest.
Elizabeth shifted her pillow and cracked open one eye to glare at her beautiful, cheerful, and already dressed sister.
“Where's Mom?”
“She wants you to make an appearance at breakfast.” Jill threw a yellow gown at her. “She interrupted me last night.”
“I know.”
Mom had interrupted them both. Didn’t their mother remember how guys got around the parental unit? If she wanted her daughters to seduce some princes, she better stop interfering with their jobs.
It hadn’t dissuaded Daemon, in the end. He’d gotten what he’d wanted from her.
Hopefully, he was still sleeping the night off like a lazy cat after getting a bowl of cream.
She needed time to figure out what she was going to do about this pesky claim.
The same went for the vampire that had left his fang marks on her neck. He better not seek her out.
She would have to carefully cover up both the bite and the tattoo this morning.
She looked at the yellow gown Jill had tossed her.
“This is your dress. I will look like a daffodil in it,” she told Jill, surprised at her sister’s choice.
“I know,” Jill parroted back with a bratty air. Her sister stood up and walked over to the dressing table to straighten her gown. “Why couldn't you have left us alone for a few more minutes?”
It was perilously close to a whine from someone who hadn’t cried no matter how many blood tests the healers had ordered for her as a child.
Jill didn't waste time crying.
“There are no shoulders on this gown!” Elizabeth exclaimed, figuring out her sister’s game.
“All the better to show off your tattoo,” Jill said.
For a panicked few seconds, she wondered how her sister had known.
“Just kidding,” Jill added, tossing the short-sleeved morning jacket to go with the gown. “Now we’ll both be the only ones covered up this morning, with no claims to show off.”
Elizabeth made sure her nightgown hid that lie as she gathered the daffodil outfit and made her way to the dressing screen.
“We will hardly be the only ones.”
Jill chucked slippers at her over the screen.
“A
t least you didn't get claimed by pimples!” Elizabeth shouted back over the screen.
“At least you didn’t get hijacked by the pirate!” Jill shouted back.
So, they both had thought Daemon looked like a pirate. Jill knew she had a thing for tall, dark men.
“I ran into a little trouble last night, outside the library, that I’ll need to talk to you and Mom about later,” Elizabeth said, certain her sister had run out of projectiles, so there was no point needling her further.
“Good trouble or bad trouble?” Jill asked.
Only her sister would figure there was a good kind of trouble. She knew her too well.
“A little of both, actually. I popped my feeding cherry without any worries,” she admitted, thinking more of the vampire by the library than Daemon.
Daemon had been right about his little lick of blood barely being a taste. No need to share that accident with her mother.
Elizabeth hurried it up, pulling the dress over her head. If she was going to start hiding things, it was best not to get on her mother’s bad side by being late to breakfast.
The morning after the tasting ball was when new claims would be announced.
Jill needed to be accepted into Prince Phillip’s harem.
He was famous for ignoring the dozens of witches in his harem, except for the occasional feeding, displaying no attachments. He was a flirt, a typical playboy who they hoped would forget all about Jill.
The perfect cover for a witch that didn't want too much attention when her sister was hunting demons and rogue vampires.
“You can’t mean Prince Daemon tasted you, given his lightning? I guess we both lost our virginity to a pair of fangs last night. Mom’s going to be interested in hearing about the other vampire that got past your guard,” Jill said as Elizabeth stepped around the screen.
She saw Jill set a bloody fan on the dressing table.
“Did Prince Daemon hurt you?” Jill whispered.
“Not really,” she answered after thinking of the tiny bruise on her wrist and the tattoo on her shoulder. “Just my pride,” she admitted.
The other vampire broke her frigging leg, but since he healed that up pretty well, she didn’t want to bring it up or explain how it had happened.
Jill would absolutely consider that something she would have to tell their mother.
Every Witch Demon but Mine (Maeren Series Book 1) Page 15
