by Nadine Mutas
Lily swallowed, her heart aching for him… To have lost his parents so young and then to have their murderer insult him with an offer like that. “What happened then?” Based on what she knew of the Demon Lord, he wouldn’t have reacted kindly to anyone spitting anywhere close to him.
“Arawn gets what Arawn wants,” he said, the bitterness in his voice cutting her like a knife. “He threatened me until I agreed to enter his service for the duration of ten years. Incidentally, he timed it to end when Yuri would come of age, and my salary was the exact amount he’d offered to pay for our living expenses.”
What must it have been like to be forced to work for his parents’ killer? No wonder he hated Arawn. “You’ll soon be free of him, right?”
He simply nodded, a grim smile twisting his mouth.
The urge to reach out to him was so strong it made her hands shake. So she just gave in, laid her hand on the symbol that stood for a kind of heartache she couldn’t imagine. A shudder went through him at her touch, the streaks of hurt in his aura quieting, dissolving like mist clearing from a field in the morning.
He laid his hand on hers, squeezed, and then moved it down his arm, onto another sign. “This one stands for the birth of my oldest nephew, Luka. He’s almost ten now. He kills me with his charm, you know.”
The warmth in his eyes almost killed her.
“And this sign…” He led her hand up to his shoulder. “This is when I bested Dima in kickboxing. He was always better, had won the local tournament several years in a row. But not that night. It gave me the confidence to know I could accomplish anything if I put my mind to it.” A small grin tugged on his lips, lips she wanted to explore so much it hurt. “To this day, Dima claims I put something in his food to make him lose that time.”
“Did you?”
“No.” He tapped the symbol, his eyes dancing. “The sign proves it. Not that he’ll admit it.”
She bit her lip, fighting a smile. “Of course not.”
He went on to point out signs and explain their meaning, twisting to show the ones on his sides, his shoulders, his back. He kept guiding her to the symbols, and—for the life of her—she couldn’t withdraw her hand. Not because he held onto it. She was sure he would have let her go if she tugged it away.
But she simply couldn’t. It was as if he were a magnet and she the metal that was drawn to him, as if her next breath depended on her being able to feel the satiny heat of his skin beneath her palm. She followed his lead, reveling in the sensation of his muscles bunching at her touch, relishing the way his aura trembled when she moved her hand.
When he finally turned to face her again, after what felt like an eternity and only a minute all wrapped into one, she could have written a comprehensive essay on his life with the information he’d given her. But it felt so much more personal. It seemed as if he’d let her share the experiences through her touch, a connection forged by tactile sensation and more, as if she’d soaked up a part of him.
Her hand came to rest on his chest when he turned back to her, over his heartbeat. A steady, reassuring drum against her palm, reverberating all the way through her body, into those places already grown hot and hungry. For more touch. More heat. More him.
“Well,” he said, his voice a rumble she felt through her hand, “I showed you mine.”
Mine. The word echoed through her pleasure-hazed brain as she surveyed the rippling expanse of male gorgeousness she’d just explored. Mine.
She blinked, shook her head to clear it. Careful.
Wrestling her thoughts halfway in order, she slowly stepped back, grasped the hem of her tank top…
…and pulled it off over her head.
Alek sucked in a breath. His body tightened, his vision sharpened, going demon at the sight in front of him. Lily in nothing but jeans and bra, the fabric thin enough to showcase her hardened nipples.
Which of course made him harden.
Slow. He needed to go slow with her if he wanted to do this right. She hadn’t quite agreed to his proposition to have a casual fling, so he needed to tread carefully.
Clearing his throat, he indicated the signs visible on her shoulders, arms, and beneath her collarbone, down to the sweet upper curve of her breast, a curve he ached to follow with his lips. “I’ll check those symbols first.”
As if in a daze, she nodded. “Check. Symbols. Right.”
His fingers itched to trace those signs, the elegant, delicate swirls, the curved lines and dots. He shoved his hands into his pockets instead, resisting all that temptation. He let his eyes rove over the smooth cream of her skin, studied the symbols on the exposed areas, looking for a clue. In vain.
“There’s nothing on here about your transformation.” Damn, his voice had dropped gravelly low. “I’ll check your stomach.”
A tremor ran through her, body and aura alike. The black of her pupils widened, the red around it blazing up. “Okay.”
When he sank to his knees in front of her, she uttered a barely audible gasp, the muscles in her abdomen flexing as if expecting—craving—his touch. He’d gotten down on a level with her stomach just to see the signs better, he told himself. Not to bring his face that much closer to the one part of her body he wanted to lick above all others. Nope. Not at all.
The faint outline of abs underneath her skin tempted him to run his fingers over the muscles, make them flex under his caress. She was athletic, beautifully so, the strength she’d gained through rigorous martial arts training drawing him to her all the more. Some males didn’t like their females kick-ass capable, wanted them soft and sweet and vulnerable. Alek had bedded some women like that, and every damn second of being with them, he’d been afraid he’d break something. He much preferred a female who could hold her own, with the strength to keep up with him and take all he had to give, from rough play to passionate power.
And damn, now his cock was rock-hard, and at such an uncomfortable angle in his jeans that he shifted, trying to relieve the strain. The fact that the musky scent of her arousal wrapped around him, so much stronger, more enticing from where he crouched only inches from its source, didn’t exactly help his predicament.
“So?” Lily’s husky voice startled him.
“Huh?”
“The sign? Is it there?”
“Oh.” He harrumphed, shot a glance up at her. “Right. The sign.”
She pressed her lips together, obviously trying to stifle a grin, but the glint of amusement in her eyes was unmistakable. Humor, though, wasn’t the only emotion gleaming there. The fiery red in her demon gaze flared up, glowing embers of lust.
Damn, he could bask in that stare forever, would upend the world to keep her looking at him like that. With an effort, he dragged his focus away from her stunning eyes, and examined the markings on her abdomen. Nothing about her turning into a demon here, either. Shaking his head, he stood, catching her eye again. “Your back. Sometimes the newest signs emerge down the line of the spine and spread from there.” She hesitated only a second, then nodded and turned.
A quick glance and—there. To the left of her spine, a symbol combination that spoke of change, one so massive it would disrupt fabric, biology, instincts, mind, body, heart, and soul. He swallowed hard. This had to be it. He leaned in closer, studied the intricacies of the combination, the way the signs flowed into each other, creating new meaning.
Without thinking, he reached out to graze his fingers over the signs. Lily gasped and looked at him over her shoulder.
“You found it?”
He nodded, his focus not on her words or the sign, but on the silken heat of her skin.
“What does it say?”
He ran his fingertips along the lines of the symbol combination, enjoying the way her aura spiked with pleasure at his touch. “If I’m reading this right,” he said, his eyes flicking up to meet hers, “it says that what turned you was more than just demon magic.”
Her brow furrowed.
“I honestly have no idea how it could
have been demon magic at all,” he muttered, “because neither duhokrads nor any other species I know of possesses the kind of power necessary to trigger this transformation.”
She nibbled on her lower lip, her mind almost visibly working in overdrive. “There’s always power we don’t know of,” she murmured, as if stating a side note. “You said ‘more than just demon magic.’ Does it say what that ‘more’ is?”
He inhaled deeply and nodded. “Yeah. But it doesn’t make sense.”
“Spill it.”
“Lilichka…the signs speak of witch magic.”
Chapter 13
Hints of daylight glowed around the heavy-duty sunblock panel over the window, casting the bedroom in a dim twilight. Not that the gloom had done Alek any good. He’d tossed and turned for what felt like hours already, his mind and body too restless to drift off.
He flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling, silently cursing his honesty.
Why did he tell Lily about the signs he’d read on her back? He should have just kept that info to himself, for several reasons, not least of which was that the less she learned about the details of her turning, the longer it would take to eventually change her back—if that was even possible. He had his doubts, but in any case, he shouldn’t share clues with her which could point her to the one thing that would destroy any future he could have with her.
Plus, him telling her that little tidbit was one hell of a mood killer. All that lust saturating the air while he read her razvitiye, all that pent-up sexual tension, the hunger in her eyes? Vanished like a burst bubble as soon as he told her about the witch magic.
He could still taste the shock in her aura, like a splash of cold water. Her eyes had widened, she’d turned, and asked him a million times if he was sure. When he said yes, she grabbed her top, muttered something about having to think, and disappeared into the spare bedroom, the door closing behind her with a click that resounded loudly in his heart.
Way to go there, Sasha. Lily was already skittish, and he’d gone and ruined what could have turned into a very pleasurable morning.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, stifling a groan of frustration.
The doorknob turned. He whipped his head up, eyes fixed on the door, which slowly swung open. In the shadows of the darkened room, a female shape slipped inside, closing the door behind her.
Lily.
Even though his demon senses were reduced since it was daytime, he picked up her unique scent, and it sent a hum of excitement through him. He didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, simply waited to see what she would do.
Her soft footsteps padded on the hardwood floor, her shadowed shape coming closer. The mattress dented as she perched on the edge.
“Are you asleep?” Her voice was but a whisper.
“Somehow nobody ever believes me when I say yes.”
Her grin was a flash of white in the dark, a fleeting thing, gone again the next second. “Does your offer still stand?”
“’Course. I’ll help you, no matter what.”
“Not that one. The other offer.”
He frowned, then it clicked. And his body responded immediately, his cock hardening in an instant, tenting the sheet. “It does.”
“Casual fun, right?”
He nodded and scooted to the side, making room for her on the bed. “Casual fun.”
She crawled onto the mattress, over to him, and straddled his waist. The oversized T-shirt she wore—one she’d apparently found in the closet in the spare bedroom—rode up to her hips, revealing her sleek, muscled thighs. His hands landed on those thighs before he could think better. Dammit, but he’d been dreaming of stroking her legs ever since he first saw her in shorts.
Lily inhaled softly, and the scent of her arousal caressed him like the finest aphrodisiac, potent enough to make him lose his mind. “I can’t make any promises,” she whispered.
“Don’t expect you to.” He’d take what she was willing to give right now, and he’d work hard until she wanted to give more.
He stroked his thumbs over the insides of her thighs, smiling at her small sound of pleasure. Placing her hands on his chest, she leaned forward and kissed him. A chaste meeting of lips at first, until she licked over his lower lip and then nipped at it. He felt the pull of that move all the way down to his groin, and his dick twitched in response.
“Hmm, that feels promising,” she murmured, and pushed her pelvis against his erection, the heat of her core burning him through the sheet.
He slid his hands from her thighs up, clasped her hips, and pressed her even closer, bucking up to meet her at the same time. She gasped at the increased friction. Her nails dug into his chest.
“Take off your shirt.” His voice scraped somewhere on the dark side of rough.
Without missing a beat, she did as he asked, grasped the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it off. He had his mouth on her breasts before she’d thrown the shirt to the side. Crying out at his speed, she clung to his shoulders while he licked a circle around her left areola, coming closer and closer to her nipple. Once he reached the puckered nub, he took it between his teeth and pulled gently.
She threw her head back and moaned.
He used his tongue to toy with her nipple while he kneaded her other breast, rubbing his thumb over the hardened bud of that one as well. Lily rocked against him rhythmically, sliding her hips and core along his cock. Even through her panties and the sheet, he felt her arousal dampening the fabric. It drove a tremor of need through him.
He released her nipple to murmur against her flushed skin. “How wet are you, tsvetochek?”
Leaning closer, her midnight hair cascading around them like a black waterfall of silk, she gave him a smile that made his heart stutter and desire tighten his balls at the same time. “Why don’t you check?”
He tightened his fingers around her waist, and had it been nighttime, his claws would have sliced out to nick her skin. Just a little. Just enough to mark her, to let her know she was playing with a male who’d push her.
With a move that made her squeal in surprise, he flipped her onto her back, with him snug between her legs. Her long black curls spilled onto the mattress, her eyes wide, the indigo luminous in the dimness of the room. The sheet was still wedged between their bodies. He removed the nuisance with a growl and went for her panties next. They hit the floor somewhere. He didn’t care.
All he could focus on, in that instant, was the alluring perfection of the sight in front of him. Between those supple legs, which he planned to lick inch by inch, was the one spot he was aching to get his mouth on. A small triangle of dark curls topped her intimate flesh, pink and glistening with moisture. The scent of her excitement—heavy, sensual, quintessentially feminine—filled his nose, so strong, so heady, he groaned in anticipation.
“I’ve been wanting to taste you for so long,” he said, settling in between her legs, running his hands from her knees up to the sensitive inner curve of her hips, “it may take a while until I’m done here.”
Lily gasped, rolling her pelvis underneath his touch. “By all means, taste away.”
That was an invitation she didn’t have to issue twice. He dove in, taking care to work his way around her clit, driving up her excitement with licks and kisses and clever use of his fingers until she writhed against him. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugged and pulled in response to his moves, a small, delicious hurt that zinged down his spine and gathered more heat to center in his groin.
And, holy hell, the taste of her. A sweetness he hadn’t guessed from her scent mingled with the musky flavor he expected, and it drove him wild. He wanted—needed—to see her shatter again, to feel her inner muscles spasm around him in ecstasy.
He pushed two fingers inside her, let his tongue dance around her swollen clit. “So tight,” he muttered, pumping in and out. “Can you take more?”
She moaned and tugged on his hair, pulling him closer to her. “Yes, please.”
Her open enjoyment—
unabashed, rapturous, confident in her own body—was a drug to his mind, heightened his own pleasure. He could play with her like this for hours, lost in the sensual tangle with a female who knew exactly what she wanted, and was comfortable asking for it.
But this wasn’t just any female, and that was what made his heart soar, his soul hum with bliss. This was Lily, his Lily, whom he’d pined for all summer. He finally had her in his bed, and the reality of her blew every fantasy he’d had over the past months to smithereens.
“You’re abso-fucking-lutely gorgeous,” he spoke against her heated flesh—and she came with a husky moan.
He pushed a third finger inside her while her orgasm was still ebbing, closed his lips around her clit and sucked. Her hips bucked off the mattress and she climaxed again, her hands clenching in his hair so hard she might have pulled some of it out.
Not that he’d mind if she did.
He pushed her, relentlessly, working his tongue along her plump lips, teasing and coaxing, while he kept fucking her with his fingers. Every once in a while he checked her expression, made sure she was along for the ride and enjoying what he did to her. Just going by her moans and garbled encouragements alone, she was having the time of her life. At some point he had to hold her hips down with his other hand because she was wiggling and thrashing so much, even though she kept pulling him closer with her hands tangled in his hair.
He grinned against her intimate flesh.
When he finally decided he’d had his fill of his own personal Lily feast—at least for tonight—she was all but liquid. He wiped his mouth on her inner thigh, nipping it in the process, and his tiny bite didn’t even make her wince. Under heavy lids, indigo eyes aglow with languorous contentment met his gaze, and a lazy smile flirted along her lips.
