Rush of Pleasure

by Rhyannon Byrd

  He didn’t say anything in response, and she was almost starting to drift off, lulled by that sweet, warm breeze, when his deep voice broke the silence. “You didn’t answer my question about the demon.”

  “No, I never dated Damon,” she admitted with a tired sigh, deciding to give him the truth. “He’s a great friend, but he would have been more than I could handle as a lover.”

  He made a guttural sound that was anything but happy. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I can only juggle so many things in my life at one time, and Damon would have taken up a lot of…space.” Maybe not the complete truth, but close enough. And all he was getting.

  “Ever thought of settling on just one guy?” he rasped.

  He clearly thought that by “things” she meant “men,” and she didn’t bother to correct him. “I might, if I ever met one who was worth it.”

  “Christ,” he said with a low laugh, the husky sound quick and rough. “That’s harsh, Will.”

  “I’m just being honest.” She turned to look at him, for no other reason than he was just really good to look at. “It would take a helluva man to make me settle down.”

  He chewed that over for a while, his eyes glittering in the darkness, but she wasn’t concerned. Despite the menacing air of danger and violence that flowed around him these days, he was still the Noah she’d grown up with. He was no monster, no matter how worried he might be about those changes he was going through.

  And he was definitely worrying.

  She could see the soul-deep exhaustion he was trying so hard to hide, the bruise-colored shadows under his eyes a testament to the fact that he wasn’t sleeping well. But they didn’t detract from his looks. He was beautiful in a dark, fallen-angel kind of way, the shadows under his eyes only making the unusual blue seem brighter beneath the ebony strands of hair that kept falling over his brow.

  They’d eaten up a good chunk of highway before he said, “So how did you meet him?”

  “Who?”

  He braced his elbow on his door, stroking his hand over his jaw again. “This Damon guy.”

  “Oh.” She rubbed her arms, chilled by the memory. “It’s a long story,” she hedged.

  “We’ve got the time,” he murmured.

  “Okay, if you really want to know, we met on a case I was working. An eight-year-old little girl had gone missing. Her father was human, but her mother was a demon who had gone to school with Damon’s sister. The mother hired me to find the little girl, and Damon’s sister asked him to help. We didn’t have many leads, but the parents were suspicious of a neighbor who hadn’t been seen since the girl went missing.”

  He cursed something foul, the low words thick with dread.

  With a hard swallow, Willow cleared the husky note from her throat and continued her story. “We found her before she was killed, but not before that monster had managed to terrify the living hell out of her. Damon was beside himself. I’ve never seen anyone so enraged. He literally tore the man apart with his bare hands. Then, while I drove, he cradled the little girl in his arms all the way back to her mother.”

  “What happened to her? Is she okay?”

  A soft smile touched her lips at the worry in his voice. “She’s growing into a beautiful young lady. And Damon has stayed in close contact. She adores him. He’s like her favorite uncle. He’s promised to look out for her, to be there if she ever needs him, and he’ll keep his promise. He would die before letting anything happen to her.”

  “Huh. A demon with a soft spot. Who knew?”

  Irritated by his tone, she narrowed her eyes at him. “Damon’s a good guy, Noah. And he’s a friend. I won’t have you being ugly about him.”

  “He’s a demon, Will. How great can the guy be?”

  She ran her tongue over her teeth, and aimed low. “At least he was never too afraid to admit that he wanted me.”

  His hands clenched on the wheel so hard she thought it might break. “It was never a case of not wanting you,” he forced through his gritted teeth. “I couldn’t have you.”

  “Oh, please. Spare me the drivel. So you have Casus blood in your veins. Who gives a damn? I sure as hell never have.”

  His laugh was sudden and harsh. “You didn’t even know until that night. I saw the surprise on your face when Jessie told you the truth about the feud between our families. When she told you about the Winston bloodline.”

  Ah. She’d always wondered if he’d noticed her reaction to that little revelation.

  “So I was surprised,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “So what? Did you bother to stick around to ask me how I felt about it?”

  “No, I didn’t.” He popped his jaw, his voice flinty as he said, “Your family made it clear that wasn’t an option.”

  NOT TO MENTION his own family, Noah thought. Hell, even his mother had been against them. She’d told him how disappointed his father would have been if he’d still been alive. She’d said a Chastain witch could never be trusted to be there when you needed her. Told him that Willow would turn on him. That she’d come to hate him. And he’d believed her.

  Had he been a fool? Or had it been the smartest decision of his life? He no longer knew, and it was pissing him off.

  He didn’t doubt that he could make Willow Broussard want him physically. But would that be all there was to it? Would he become just another lover that she reminisced about, while he went through life hungering for something he could no longer have?

  “Get ready to pull over,” she said, ripping him from the darkness of his thoughts. “That’s the place.”

  Noah pulled into the dirt parking lot and reversed into a space at the back of the rambling wooden structure, the neon sign that sat on its sloping roof flashing nearly blinding bursts of color against the truck’s windshield. As he cut the engine, he sent a dubious look toward the building. “What makes you think he’s here?”

  “I don’t know where he is,” she replied, reaching for the handle to her door. “But we’re going to hit every clan hangout that I know of until we find him.”

  They made their way across the lot, entering through a side door, and Noah fought back a grimace. Christ, the place was even worse than he’d suspected. Music blared from the corner where a live band was playing some kind of death rock, the dance floor set up in front of the stage packed with a rough-looking crowd that spilled over into every corner of the room. As they headed past the bar, a gruff voice sounded from off to his left. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t one of those Casus assholes.” A beefy hand grabbed hold of his shoulder and jerked him around. “What makes you think you can waltz in here without getting your ass kicked?”

  Noah stared the paunch-faced shape-shifter right in the eye. “I’m not a Casus.”

  “Sure you aren’t,” the guy sneered, sending a laughing look at his buddies. “You hear that, guys? Blue Eyes here doesn’t think he’s a Casus.”

  “I’m only going to say this once.” Noah moved in closer, going nose to nose with the male. He was pretty sure the shifter was a Lycan, but it was hard to get a clear read on his scent under all the booze. “If you don’t want it broken, get your hand off my shoulder.”

  The shifter snickered. “Make me, Casus.”

  “If that’s how you want to play it.” Noah’s smile was slow and sharp. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Before the werewolf could so much as blink at him, Noah wrapped his fingers around the asshole’s wrist and stepped back, yanking him off his bar stool. The shifter threw a heavy left hook that Noah easily dodged, using the man’s momentum to spin him around, then twisting his right arm up behind his back. The shifter tried to catch him in the face with the back of his head, so Noah wrenched the jerk’s arm up higher against his back, and the guy gave a high-pitched, gurgled cry. “Are we done here?” he rasped. “Because I don’t appreciate you pulling this shit in front of my…lady friend.”

  “Okay,” the guy wheezed. “We’re done.”

  “T
hat’s what I thought,” he said in a low voice, releasing his hold on the idiot and taking a step back.

  As he watched the shifter rubbing his sore arm, Noah ran a hand over his mouth, more than a little surprised by how easily he’d taken down the werewolf. Yeah, he was used to fighting things that weren’t human, and he was damn good at it. That wasn’t ego talking—it was fact. But this had been…different. He’d acted on pure instinct, and he’d been faster. Stronger.

  And a helluva lot angrier than he usually was.

  Side effects? Obviously. He was just damn glad the fangs hadn’t made another appearance.

  Turning around, Noah expected to find Willow waiting right behind him. But she wasn’t there.

  With a graveled curse, he immediately scanned the crowd. Raw, burning fury scalded his veins when he spotted her. While he’d been dealing with the Lycan, the little idiot had taken on the bastard’s friends by herself!

  From the looks of it, she’d already downed two of the guys, and was currently exchanging words with a third. They were standing at the edge of the crowded dance floor, the band still making enough racket that Noah couldn’t hear what she was saying to the man. Whatever it was, he looked angry about it, his lip curled in a sneer. The guy took a swing at her, which she blocked as she spun, bringing her leg around in a kick that struck him across the backs of his thighs.

  For a moment, all Noah could do was stare. Then he stalked forward and yanked her off the jackass, leaving him to the two bouncers who were finally making their way over. He couldn’t have cared less about the jerk. All he cared about was Will.

  And judging by how pissed he was, he cared a helluva lot more than he should. It was stupid and insane and was no doubt going to land his ass in a world of hurt. But there didn’t seem to be a goddamn thing Noah could do to stop it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  GRABBING HOLD OF her by the arms, Noah lifted Willow off the ground and shoved her against the nearest wall. “Have you lost your fucking mind?” he shouted, his voice shaking with fury. “Tell me, Will. What the hell did you think you were doing?”

  She blinked back at him. “That’s a stupid question, Noah.”

  The calmness of her voice, when his composure had just been shredded with fear, made him want to shake her.

  “I was helping you,” she added.

  “Helping me?” Oh, yeah, he really wanted to shake some sense into her. The logical part of his brain knew she’d had the male under control; it was the rest of him that was scared shitless. “You could have been hurt,” he snarled, the rough words biting and sharp. “Do not ever do anything that reckless again. Do you understand me?”

  “I understand that you’re being an idiot. What’s the big friggin’ deal? Was I just supposed to stand aside and let them gang up on you?”

  He leaned forward, putting his face close to hers. So close that he could feel the soft panting of her breath against his chin. “If something goes wrong, I don’t want you getting dragged down after me.” He fought for a measure of control, but couldn’t find any, and his voice lowered, the quiet words thick with emotion. “I couldn’t handle it if anything happened to you.”

  She stared back at him, those cinnamon-colored eyes turning warm with understanding, and he felt like she could see right through him. Right down to the fear that was seething so painfully in his gut. Softly, she said, “I’m sorry I scared you.”

  He locked his jaw and looked away, his body stiff with tension as he lowered her to the ground and stepped back. Taking a deep breath, he scraped his hands through his hair and tried to calm down.

  “Oh, God,” she groaned, her gaze focused a little to his left, back toward the bar. “This is all we need.”

  Following her line of sight, he simply said, “Shit.”

  “Damn it, Hank, you know the rules!” the bartender roared, pointing a shotgun at the man Noah had been fighting. The one who was currently turning into a massive werewolf, his hands already sporting a deadly set of claws.

  “No shifting inside the premises!” the bartender added. “You cut this shit out, or I will shoot you!”

  Hank glared at the bartender, staring down the barrel of the gun, then chuffed as he jerked his shoulder and began returning to his human form. The bartender, however, didn’t look in any hurry to lower his weapon.

  “Come on,” Willow muttered, putting her blade away before she reached out and grabbed hold of Noah’s hand. “Let’s look for Damon and then get the hell out of here. The sooner, the better.”

  He allowed her to pull him along behind her, taking an uneasy pleasure in the simple act of having her delicate hand in his again. It was embarrassing, how hard he had to work to keep from crushing her in his grip, wanting to cling to her so tightly she couldn’t pull away. He was unbearably off balance, too many violent emotions crashing around inside him, his thick skull feeling like it might crack from the pressure.

  Jesus. Barely twenty-four hours together and he was already losing it.

  They made their way through the front room without any further incidents, most of the other customers giving them a wide berth as news of what had happened with Hank and his buddies spread through the bar. When they finally made it through to the back room, Willow stood on her tiptoes and looked over the crowd, squeezing his fingers when she glanced into the far corner. “He’s here! That’s Damon over there!”

  Because of his height, Noah had a clear shot of the man she was pointing to. But he still couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Oh, come on,” he groaned. “A blond-haired, blue-eyed demon?”

  He glanced at Willow just in time to catch her impish grin. “He’s adorable, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah, he’s friggin’ precious,” he muttered, surprised by the strange burn of jealousy ripping through his gut. Jealousy was not an emotion he’d ever had to deal with before. Nor was it one he particularly cared for, and he had a bad feeling about this. One that got worse as Willow tugged him along behind her, obviously eager to reach the demon’s table.

  Then Damon turned his head to the side, tilting a beer bottle up to his mouth, giving Noah a clear view of the demon’s hair, as well as the side of his neck, and he damn near stumbled over his own two feet.

  I don’t bloody believe it.

  There was a dark blue streak in the demon’s blond, shoulder-length hair and a knotted symbol at the side of his throat. The symbol was the same color blue as the streak in his hair, and Noah knew they were the markings of his demon subspecies. He also knew that this particular species was one of the most notorious.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he growled, grinding to a halt, his hold on Willow’s hand forcing her to stop, as well. “He’s a goddamn sex-eater!”

  She shot him a bright-eyed look over her shoulder and laughed. “Listen to yourself. You’d think you’d never seen a guy who fed off sex before.”

  “I haven’t,” he bit out, understanding now why the demon was hiding out in bars. A guy had to have his nourishment, after all. And with all the scantily clad women in the place, the demon had an endless variety to choose from.

  Willow arched one of those pale, sweeping brows as she studied his grim expression. “I didn’t take you for such a prude, Noah.”

  “I’m not a prude,” he forced through his gritted teeth. He just hated, hated, the thought of Willow hanging out with a good-looking demon who, if the rumors about his breed were to be believed, was able to stay hard for hours on end, enjoying multiple orgasms off one erection. Not to mention what they could supposedly do to a woman with that erection.

  He was thinking it might be good if he went and locked Willow in the truck, leaving him to talk to the demon on his own, when the guy caught sight of her. Pleasure instantly transformed the demon’s fierce expression.

  “Low!” he called out, coming around the back of the table so fast he nearly knocked it over. “Get your ass over here, woman!”

  “Low?” Noah muttered, fighting the urge to toss her over his shoul
der and run like hell.

  “That’s what he calls me,” she explained, her voice all breathless and happy. “You know…Willow.”

  She pulled away from him, leaving him to make his own way as she rushed forward and threw herself into the demon’s brawny arms. The sight of them together, hugging and laughing, hit Noah like a kick in the gut. The demon had to be nearly six-five, with the muscle to match, his smile one of genuine affection as he spun Willow around in a fast circle that sent her golden curls flying.

  Her laughter filled the air, and Noah couldn’t help but compare this particular reunion with the one he and Willow had shared the day before. Damn. Instead of pulling her knife on the demon, she had her arms wrapped tight around his neck, holding on as if she never meant to let go—and with a longing that nearly floored him, Noah suddenly found himself wishing that things could have been different between him and this woman. That he could have stayed in Sacred and lived a life that included Willow.

  It was a screwed up kind of torture, but he couldn’t help thinking how incredible it would be to come home and be greeted like this, with her laughter and her beautiful smile, and those strong arms wrapped tight around him, holding him close.

  Noah was still lost in his unsettling thoughts when the demon finally set Will back on her cherry-red Doc’s, wrapped a possessive arm around her shoulders and looked right at him. With an accent that sounded oddly Southern, considering the demon had likely been born in hell, he asked, “Who’s your new friend, Low?”

  Willow quickly made the introductions, and the demon’s eyes shot wide with surprise. “So you’re the jackass from her past,” Damon MacCaven murmured, looking him up and down. “Well, hell. I’ve always wondered what you’d be like.”

  “Willow told you about me?” Noah didn’t know whether to be pleased by the fact that she’d talked about him…or worried about what she’d said.

  Arching one blond eyebrow, the demon pulled her closer to his side, crushing her against his body. Then he gave Noah a smart-ass smile. “She told me enough to know that you’re an idiot.”