Demon Blessed

by Nikki Sex

Stafford’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. He felt that carnal jolt, too. “What was that?”

  “Magic, maybe?”

  He nods. “Power.”

  “Yes.”

  His lips curve in a slow, sensual smile. Evidently, I affect him as much as he affects me. I keep a straight face and do my best to ignore our ridiculous sexual chemistry. Otherwise my steak will get cold.

  I shake my head. “I admit, I haven’t had a lot of sleep lately. However right now, I feel incredible. Refreshed and full of energy.”

  His lips twitch. “Me, too.”

  “Yeah, right,” I snicker, and cut off a piece of steak, impressed by the blood it oozes. “Mmm. Rare, exactly the way I like it. You’ve brought me dinner in bed.” I waggle my eyebrows. “I suppose you’re hoping to get lucky again?”

  He laughs, an utterly masculine sound. “That’s the plan.”

  “It is?”

  “You bet.”

  Stafford’s eyes sparkle with teasing mischief, making my heart leap. His quick and easy laugh makes something in my chest tighten. I could look at him smile all day long, without feeling as though I’ve wasted one minute.

  A number of years ago, I used to meditate. In a deeply meditative state, you have no thoughts at all. You’re not aware of time or place. You’re here and now. It's a very Zen sort of place to be.

  Stafford is my Zen place. One look at him, and for a frozen moment—poof—every thought I have, disappears.

  “What?” he asks, when he sees the expression on my face.

  “Nothing.”

  His jaw tightens but his face remains composed. He’s not stupid. Stafford knows I’m not telling him something, but he lets it go. I give him a faint smile, put a piece of steak in my mouth, chew, swallow.

  As the Alpha of all the werewolves, he’s strong, scary, protective, and the hottest thing I’ve ever run into. We’re compatible as hell. Sex with him is beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. We can talk about anything—except my demon. I can’t imagine that changing.

  I’m comfortable with him, I can be myself, and we make each other laugh. Like me, barring some unpreventable catastrophe, he won’t die. What more does anyone want in a partner?

  Hell, here with Stafford, I may even be able to have children once his vat-womb technology is a done deal.

  If I could, I’d never leave him. Except, with day-to-day life and lovemaking comes intimacy. A nice thought, but intimacy and open honesty go hand in hand. A person can’t fully connect with another and manage to keep all their secrets.

  Unfortunately, I have a demon.

  Having an inner demon and an honest relationship with another is like trying to pass through airport security with a sawn-off shotgun in your carry on. It won’t work so there’s no point in trying. You’re bound to get caught.

  It’s too bad, really. I love this magical land—I like the people here. For me, any relationship is destined to end in tears. My plans haven’t changed. I’ll fly out of Canada as soon as possible.

  “After you eat, we’ll go into Coquitlam,” Stafford says. “You can show me where Hope and Owen were attacked. I want to get to those scents before it rains.”

  “OK.”

  My demon and I can’t tell the difference between one wolf and another, or one vamp and another. After my dream of slipping into the skin of a living wolf, I bet my ability to scent has improved. I’ve also acquired pack memory through feeding on the Alpha’s power, blood, and sex.

  God, the sex!

  My toes curl at the thought of it. The problem with really great sex is, the more you have, the more you want. It works that way in my case, anyway. You’d think after the mega power feed my demon and I recently enjoyed, we would both be sated.

  Apparently, not.

  I’m hyper-aware of the mesmerizing Alpha who sits by my side. He scents of power, man, wolf, and the magic of this land.

  I want to gnaw on him like a dog with a chew toy.

  “Talk while I eat, will you?” I ask. “How is everyone? How’s Toby? What have you been doing while I slept?”

  Stafford chats amicably, filling me in. He explains why everyone is so enthusiastic about our arrival. His pack has been stagnant. Except for one person, they haven’t had a new wolf join them for years. For three youngsters to turn up, all at once, is very exciting.

  What he doesn’t say is how much his pack members miss having children. I hope nurturing mother and father types fulfil their needs by babying Hope and Owen.

  Stafford is impressed with my friends and, surprisingly, with my dog. Toby instinctively behaves like a gentleman. I’ve taught him well, Stafford praises, which is pretty funny. Toby trained himself.

  Everything Stafford says seems too perfect. Why do I get the idea he’s hiding something?

  In my heart, I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  Chapter 38. Now and Forever

  Stafford seems as though he has something to tell me, but he’s holding off because he’s unsure how I’ll react.

  “What is it?” I ask him. “You’re sitting on something. Go ahead, spit it out. You know you’re going to say it anyway.”

  “Do you feel any different?” he asks, studying me meaningfully.

  “Why? Because you sank your teeth into me?” I smirk. “Which was seriously hot, by the way.”

  He bursts out laughing. “Yes, because I bit you.”

  Gingerly, I touch the raw teeth marks between my neck and shoulder. My demon usually heals my wounds. Lord knows, we had more than enough power to do so. I suspect he liked the look of them, so he left them. My annoying inner creature has his own aesthetic ideas.

  I raise my eyebrows. “Well, I had a taste of you, too, as I recall.”

  “Yes, you did—but I’ve already been exposed.” He tilts his head, his heated gaze slides over my body with another appraising look. “Whatever you have, you’ve passed on to me already.”

  “The age thing?”

  “And the healing thing.”

  “Good point. But Stafford, I must tell you; I don’t think I’ll become a werewolf. I’m immune.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your talk about wolves becoming moonstruck when not in a magically warded area made sense to me. I was bitten by a werewolf, oh, probably seventy years ago. It didn’t change anything. That’s why I’m pretty sure I’m resistant. Whatever made me stop aging also prevents me from becoming a werewolf.”

  Stafford doesn’t display his emotions, but he’s not pleased with this news. Frowning, he shakes his head as if throwing that terrible idea out of his mind.

  “It doesn’t make any difference.” His voice is nearly an animal snarl. “I’ve still done what I’ve done, and I won’t change it.”

  Uh-oh. What has he done?

  I force myself to ask evenly, “Stafford, what are you talking about?”

  His eyes narrow. “I wasn’t going to take a chance you’d sneak off again,” he says through gritted teeth.

  He pauses to study my features, to watch my reaction to this potential bombshell, but I manage to keep a straight face—although inside I’m screaming.

  What the fuck?

  “Oh?” My tone remains calm and encouraging.

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought of leaving, either,” he snaps, his eyes fierce.

  A flood of angry power begins to rise until it fills the room. Stafford’s irritation nips at my skin—small electric sparks of discordant magic. I shield myself, but oh, wow. He’s pissed, alright.

  There’s a dangerous intensity in his dark eyes as he says, “Leaving me again would be as crazy as hauling timber into the woods, but I wouldn’t put it past you. Besides, whether you become a werewolf or not, it changes nothing. My wolf wants you. There’s no reasoning with him—he won’t take no for an answer.”

  I swallow but say nothing. Is it a bad sign he’s blaming his beast? Exactly what has Stafford done?

  No one likes to admit they’re wrong. In my e
xperience, nothing makes a person angrier than knowing they’ve done something they shouldn’t have.

  He sighs. “Anyway, human, witch, or shifter—whatever you are, I want you. You’re too important to me—to both of us. I had to make sure you didn’t disappear.” He’s repeating himself, but I still haven’t a clue.

  “Stafford, what did you do?”

  “I’ve bound you to me, Jan. While we made love. It’s alpha magic—not mate binding. I would never do that without your agreement.”

  A trickle of alarm slips into my voice. “You’ve bound me? What exactly does that mean?”

  He doesn’t even have the good grace to at least look embarrassed when he slams me with the final blow. I should have known. All those previous lefts and rights to the face and gut were comparatively innocent taps. These last upper-cuts shatter my jaw and knocks me out completely.

  I was never getting out of this ring except on a stretcher. Not even then, it now seems to me.

  “Even if you never become a member of my pack, I’ll always be able to find you. You can travel a few miles away from me, maybe fifty—but you won’t want to go further. If you do, it will make you ill.”

  I hide my building panic and say nothing. What can I say?

  Stafford’s eyes glow, turning from brown to bright amber. I see the wolf peeking out from his gaze. Tomorrow night is the full moon. Maybe his inner beast is close to the surface, making him more aggressive.

  “You’d better get used to it,” he growls. “From now until forever, you’re linked to me.”

  I sense the absolute truth of his statement. His resounding promise is set in stone, exactly as he intended it. Stafford’s fierce power beats through me, his dominant aura colors the air.

  He’s speaking as much from the man, as from his beast—the jerk!

  Any normal person might fall into the sin of unbridled wrath. Hidden under my cool demeanor, I experience a moment of fear-fueled rage. Years of practice allows me to put my anger aside in favor of the virtues of patience and wisdom.

  In time, I’ll figure this out. I always do.

  Crap. Guess I’m not flying out tonight after all.

  Chapter 39. Entrapped

  We end up taking my Tesla to the site where Owen and Hope were attacked, rather than Stafford’s huge Dodge RAM. My car is the latest model, and like any guy, he adores checking out the newest toys. I figured Stafford would want to drive, him being alpha male, and all.

  To my delight and surprise, he’s perfectly happy to be a passenger.

  This is an auspicious beginning. I’ve never known a pack Alpha, but I’ve found dominants—male or female—can be bossy and annoying. Maybe we can be equals.

  I give him the plastic bag full of Hope and Owen’s clothes.

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t you want to open it?”

  “Not until I’m wolf. My beast has the superior sense of smell.”

  “Ah.”

  For virtually the entire drive, neither of us says a word. This whole “bound” to each other thing is off limits as a topic. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.

  Stafford is utterly relaxed, yet his intense masculine presence fills the car and cannot be ignored. His five-o-clock shadow is sexy, while his natural persona is open, casual, and easy going.

  Meanwhile, I’m seriously freaked out.

  I’m mad at him for trapping me. Ironically, I’m also glad to be trapped. I long to stay in the magical land, but I want the option to leave. It’s the classic dilemma: Freedom, or roots? Family, friends, and someone to love—roots are definitely attractive. They’d make a nice change.

  Unless, of course, they get me killed.

  I’d like to remain in contact with Hope and Owen. I feel responsible for them—they’re like family, in a way. After the full moon (when I prove I won’t shift) I’ll return to my apartment and my life. I suppose if I keep my distance, never spend the night again with Stafford, and visit once or twice a month—possibly then I can keep my demon a secret.

  Before we left the magic land, Stafford and I visited the gestation room. I wanted to determine how the two fetuses that weren’t flourishing were doing. Both imperfect fetuses were well and thriving.

  All three were perfectly fine.

  I recalled an instant where Stafford had been inside of me, both mentally and physically. I remember feeling his deep longing for children. My own flash of desire had been to help him achieve his goals.

  My demon had something to do with it—he’s developed a healing thing for those we care about.

  I chatted with my inner monster when I was alone in the bathroom, thanking him, but warning him of the danger we were in. He wasn’t fazed in the least. My lips tug into a smile at the memory. My demon is happy with himself. Smug.

  His pride is justified; he’s becoming quite the healer. All this healing will only draw attention to himself, but I can’t condemn his actions. Pride seems a small sin when set alongside the virtue of kindness.

  Saving two potential werewolf children was a great kindness. If I could, I would’ve healed them myself.

  Stafford finally breaks the ongoing silence. “Jan, I know you’ve got things you don’t want to share with me. That’s OK. Keep your secrets. I don’t want you to talk about anything you don’t feel comfortable talking about. Someday, when you trust me, I’ll deserve your confidence. Then you’ll tell me everything.”

  No, I won’t. Not ever.

  “OK.”

  A lock of thick hair slides across his forehead as he slants me an irritated look. Even frowning and aggravated, the man is sexy as hell. I want to brush his hair back, run my fingers through the silky feel of it.

  My hands remain in the wheel. “What?”

  “You doubt you’ll ever trust me.”

  Shit. It’s already starting! See what happens when people become close? They begin to read each other’s minds. I can’t trust Stafford. I can’t trust anyone with the secret of my demon, particularly supernaturals.

  “I’ve been on my own a long time,” I hedge, slowing as I take a tight corner.

  It’s instinct to lie—it’s how I protect myself. Reminded of the last time I innocently confided my secret to another, a long dead voice whispers in my memory: “Tell me, you can trust me. I won’t tell a soul.”

  Yeah, right! I won’t make that mistake again.

  I’d barely gotten away with my life.

  Dancing around the truth is exasperating. Negotiating varying degrees of deceit is like walking a tightrope, but it’s worth it to be safe.

  Reaching across the car seat, Stafford pats my knee. His lips curve in a slow smile. “We have plenty of time to sort out the details. No big deal, sweetheart. I’m just really glad you’re here.”

  “Sweetheart?”

  His lips twitch. “You prefer honey?”

  My reaction to his endearment amuses him. He knows how difficult the subjects of love and intimacy are for me. He thinks with careful, gentle handling, I’ll get over it. Like breaking in a horse. Soft words. Kindness. Introduce the animal to a halter, blanket, bridle, and saddle. Ultimately, ride her.

  Like training a panicky mare, he’s slowly getting me used to him.

  Breaking me in. Huh. That would be right.

  If you understand a person’s motives, it becomes easy to predict their actions. Stafford thinks he loves me. The big bad alpha decided to entrap me; he’s taking what he wants. However, when it comes right down to it, I want him, too.

  If only it were that easy.

  He has no idea what my issues are—thank God.

  With a sigh, I decide to give him something. “Sweetheart is fine. It’s just that no one ever calls me sweetheart. You know why I never have sex with people twice?”

  He arches an eyebrow. “I admit, I wasn’t counting, but we’ve had sex many more times than twice.”

  I snort. “I mean I don’t get together with someone more than one time. You are an extremely rare exception.
In fact, you’re my only exception.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  I grin. “You should be.” I slant him a teasing, flirty look. “To be fair, you are difficult to resist.”

  Stafford chuckles, leans back with masculine confidence. “Totally understandable. I am uncommonly cute.”

  He cracks me up.

  “Seriously, Jan, I’m honored.” His features take on a look of disbelief. “In two-hundred years you’ve only had one-night-stands?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of addiction. I may look ordinary, with no trace of magic, but once people have sex with me they want to do it again and again. They want to be with me, court me, live with me, marry me. It happens every time.”

  “You’re not ordinary.”

  “I don’t appear to be anything special, a detail I’m happy about, really. Makes it easier to blend in. Also, supernaturals don’t sense me as anything other than human, another fact I appreciate.”

  “It is odd how you register as pure human.”

  I smile. “Cool, eh?”

  “You’re extraordinary.” His voice lowers, softens. “You’re the most striking woman of my acquaintance. More attractive than anyone I’ve ever known.”

  I give him a snort of disbelief. “Thank you for the compliment, but see? You just proved my point. People I have sex with become addicted. For them, I become a compulsion. Some sort of weird, inexplicable obsession. Whatever it is, it’s not real. It’s part of my magic and it makes me uncomfortable. I can’t help but feel I’m taking advantage.”

  A frown mars his face as he considers this. A silent minute passes. “Do you ever become addicted to them?” he finally asks me. “You know—to these people you make love with?”

  “No.”

  He beams me a broad smile, pats my knee again. “Then it doesn’t apply to us. I know you want me, just as I want you.” He puffs out his chest. “Admit it. I’m irresistible. You can’t get enough.”

  I burst out laughing. “Keep telling yourself that.”

  “No point in denying it.”

  After a few minutes, I pull up to a red light, turn to him and say, “I think you’re wonderful. Not only are you hot as hell, you’re a good person. From what I can see of the magic lands, you’re also an excellent alpha.”