“We don’t know his name,” shouted Gus.
I loosened my grip on the guy, his face pinkish purple from the blood rushing into his face. His wide eyes remained on me.
“Describe him,” I demanded.
“Big guy. Bald. Scary looking. Was wearin’ a long, black coat.”
I glared at Gus. “A trench coat?”
“Yeah. Guess so. A trench coat.”
I nodded at Max. I knew who it was now. Exactly who I’d suspected.
Max holstered his gun back at his belt and pulled his cuff keys out. “Stand up and turn around.”
Gus obeyed.
I lifted off the mouthy one and stood. “And so you two just agreed to obey a complete stranger?”
He unbent his arm and clutched it to his chest. I might’ve splintered something. I didn’t care.
“It was easy money. He gave us the brick and told us what to do. No questions asked.”
“Yeah,” agreed Gus, rubbing his wrist now and backing away from Max toward the couch where he sat. “Good, easy money.”
I pulled out my wallet and tossed several bills on the guy’s chest at my feet. Then I threw a few more on the table where the poppy dust was scattered.
“Take this and get out of town. Tonight. If I find out you’re still here by dawn, you’ll wish you’d left.”
“We’re gone, man,” said Gus, scooping up the bills. “No problem.”
I marched back through the broken door. Max and I made our way swiftly out of the building. Interestingly, no one even opened a door in the hall. But I suppose they were used to sounds of violence. They all remained behind closed doors and out of other people’s business, which was good for us. Gus and his partner wouldn’t talk. But I didn’t want our description or a comm video popping up anywhere else.
Once out on the street, Max twisted me around by the arm. “What the fuck, dude? You threatened to kill the man and you gave him your name.”
“Because I gave him my name, he’ll never speak a word about this.”
It wasn’t arrogance to point out my name held more weight than anything. If I’d been just any rich boy beating on a criminal on Glendale Strip, I might find trouble. But I was Demetrius Cade. “Trust me. Those two will be out of town in the next five minutes.”
Max took out a cigarette and lit it. “Let’s go.”
We headed up the walk and back toward our cars.
“So you know who the bald guy in the trench coat is, I’m assuming,” said Max.
“It’s Aron Grayson’s new bodyguard,” I said, clicking my car unlocked as I approached.
“And so what do you plan to do now?”
“Pay Aron a visit.”
“No, that’s exactly what you’re not going to do. No vigilante justice. Tonight was close enough crossing that line.”
I opened my door and stopped. Max inhaled a deep puff from his cigarette.
“Then what am I supposed to do? Just wait around till they do something worse like blow up the clinic?”
“The hearing is almost here. You just stay close to your girl,” he said and flicked his cigarette onto the walk. He stomped it out with the toe of his boot. “I doubt you’ll have a problem with that.
“No. That won’t be a problem at all.”
Chapter 11
The sound of knocking on the door echoed through the house along with another rumble of thunder. I’d finally started to drift off and thought the sound was the storm picking up speed again. Then the knocking continued. It could only be one person.
I leapt up and hurried to the door while slipping my silk robe over my short nightie. Checking through the peephole to be sure it was who my senses told me it was, I pulled open the door to find a wet Demetrius for the second time this evening. Except now he appeared less like a wild beast and more like an injured animal.
“Come in. Quickly.”
I locked the door and fetched a towel in the linen closet in the hallway. When I returned, he stood at the window watching the storm crashing violently over the city, the room dark but for the flashes of light.
“Here.” I handed him the towel. “You know, for a man of means, you never seem to be prepared for the weather.”
He chuckled as he dragged the towel over his face and hair. “No. I suppose not.”
“Where have you been tonight?”
He tossed the towel to the side and pulled his wet T-shirt over his head, then dropped it to the floor.
“I’ve given your guards the night off.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll be staying here tonight.”
The silhouette of his broad shoulders and fine torso held me breathless.
“You still didn’t tell me where you’ve been.”
He said nothing as he took in my appearance from top to bottom. I could barely see his eyes in the dark. Then the lightning flashed, and I hitched in a breath. The way the man looked at me, with desperate longing and unhidden desire, nailed me in place. Waiting. Hoping.
A violent crash of lightning and thunder vibrated the glass. I jumped and turned toward the window. He captured me there, arms wrapped around my waist from behind.
“No need to be afraid,” he whispered in my ear.
“I’m not afraid,” I said. “Just touch me, Demetrius.”
His lips found that sweet spot below my ear. His hands skated down my arms to my hands. He lifted them and flattened my palms against the glass. “Leave them there,” he commanded.
I moaned when he cupped my breast. His thumb circled my tight nub over the silk, the sensation delicious. He glided his other hand down my waist, over my hip, under my hem, across my thigh, and between my legs. He growled when he found I hadn’t worn any panties.
“Is this for me?”
“Yes,” I managed to say. “I hoped you’d come back.”
“I told you I would.” His mouth was on my skin. “I keep my promises.” Then he whispered close to my ear. “Now open your legs for me.”
I couldn’t do anything but obey, close my eyes, and ride the sweet sensation that was Demetrius and his clever fingers. And they were very clever. I gasped.
He bit my earlobe. “I want to be inside you. Right now.”
“Here?” I asked, opening my eyes. The sky was dark, but we were plainly visible to anyone in the apartment building across the way if they were looking. Especially because they were Morgon and could see well enough at night. “What if someone sees us?”
“Then let them watch.”
He pinched my nipple lightly then pulled away. His other hand was still hard at work between my legs, stroking till I was slick with need. I heard the unbuckling of his belt, the sliding of his zipper, and the shift of his pants coming off his hips. That sound alone nearly made me come.
“Keep your hands on the window,” he rasped, his mouth close to my ear again, the stubble on his jaw scraping my neck.
The back of my gown lifted. He pressed a palm up my spine, leaning me forward at an angle. He nudged me with the head of his shaft, rubbing between my wet folds before pushing slowly inside me. He groaned and sheathed himself completely with a sharp thrust.
“Oh, God.” I reached back with one hand for his thigh and found his pants still half on. I fisted the material and pulled him harder as he sucked low on my neck, definitely leaving a mark.
He wrapped his fingers around my wrist, wrenched my hand free, and placed it back on the window. “Hold on, Shakara.” He gripped my hips, the folds of silk bunched under his hands, and started to really move.
“Demetrius.”
My back bowed at the force of his pounding thrust. He spread one hand atop mine against the window, his arm brushing the arch of my wing. He hit me in the sweetest spot with every pump of his hips. That same tightening in my chest coiled and wound around my heart, prickling with a slight sting.
Then Demetrius slowed, grinding his hips in a sensual circle. “You feel so good.”
One of his hands slid back unde
rneath the front of my gown, gliding between my legs, and stroked me with those perfect fingers. A shocking wave of pleasure pushed me too high too fast. I screamed, my whole body tensing with the sudden orgasm. He stilled and let me ride it out. When I started to collapse, he pulled out and caught me in his arms, being careful of my wings. After hiking his pants up loosely, he carried me across the living room and into my bedroom.
He lay me on my back. I spread my wings out flat as he pulled my straps down over my shoulders and tugged the nightie down off my hips and tossed it on the floor. I’d left one small lamp lit on the side table. Normally, the thought of being fully naked in front of a man would send me into a trembling mess. But since Demetrius had just put me into a trembling mess for another reason, I was surprisingly calm. And the way his hooded eyes ate up every inch of my body while he kicked off his shoes and removed his pants made me feel…
“Beautiful,” he said, voice dropping deep.
The sight of him still fully erect and his eyes filled with desire stirred me. He lay on top, his weight on one forearm, and cupped one of my breasts with his free hand. His mouth found my other. With a hiss, I arched my back, every part of me overly sensitized. His weight pinned me down, his tongue as clever as his fingers.
“Demetrius. Please,” I begged.
He shifted up and captured my mouth with his, spreading my thighs with his torso before thrusting inside me again.
I combed my fingers through his silky hair, intoxicated by his scent and mesmerized by the way his body rolled over and moved inside of mine. When I wrapped my ankles at the small of his back, he moaned.
“Yes,” he said, nipping at my bottom lip with his teeth. “Keep them right there.”
The sound of his labored breathing, of Demetrius on the verge of letting go of the rigid control he held onto so well, had unhinged my own cool demeanor.
I reached my arms beneath his and clawed down his back. “Harder,” I said. “I want it harder.” I skated my nails lower over his perfect ass, feeling the thrust and release of his muscles as he pumped inside me.
“Shakara,” he groaned.
“Stop holding back. Harder. Deeper.”
He reared up onto his knees and slid out of me. I gasped with the loss of him. With a heavy, dark look, he hooked my ankles over his shoulders and gripped the tops of my thighs as he pushed back inside me with a deep thrust. I tried to bite back my moans while he hit that spot inside me again, like he knew exactly where to stroke me in just the right way. I palmed my breasts. His gaze lowered. He pounded harder, flesh slapping each time he hit home.
I locked on his gaze and squeezed my breasts, then moaned his name. “Demetrius.”
He rocked twice more then held me still, gripping my thighs hard and grinding with his shaft buried deep. He groaned loud. His release was long. When he’d finally finished, he unlocked my ankles but didn’t remove himself from inside me. Rather, he spread out over me with his forearms above my shoulders.
Then he kissed me. And kissed me. Till I reeled with dizziness and an intimate sensuality that brought me near to tears.
When he finally pulled back and gazed down, still panting from exertion, as was I, he held a haunted expression—intense and almost forlorn.
“What is it? Demetrius?”
He didn’t answer.
“Are you all right?” I pushed back the wet strands of his hair hanging in his eyes. I hoped that look on his face was just a poor catch of light. “Demetrius?”
“No. I’m not.” He shook his head. “I’m afraid I never will be again.” He nuzzled into my neck and banded both arms underneath me.
That ache was back in my chest. A low, humming throb. The yearning still there. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him tight.
“I know,” I whispered with a light kiss to his neck. “I know.”
We were silent for a time, clinging to each other. I rested my cheek on his chest while he brushed his fingers lazily over my bare hip. “You know, I thought of you as this cold, ego-centric jerk ever since I met you at the Unity Ball.”
He chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath my ear. “That’s because I’ve been a cold, ego-centric bastard most my life. Following in my father’s footsteps, I suppose.” He sighed. “Though the old man isn’t all bad.”
“No one is all bad,” I said, lifting up and propping my chest on his. “When did you stop thinking about Morgons the way your father thinks about them? Was it when Jessen was injured?”
“No.” He shook his head, threading his fingers in my hair and letting the strands slip over his hand. “It was when Julian was born. When I first held him in my arms, actually. Jessen called me after she’d returned home from the hospital and asked me to come and see my new nephew. I wouldn’t refuse Jessen anything, especially after the guilt I felt about the entire Aron Grayson affair.” His gaze shifted from my hair to my eyes. “I didn’t know you could feel so much love for such a helpless little thing. I held him in my arms, very gently, because he was so tiny. Little arms and legs and wings. He reached up and wrapped his small fingers around one of mine, and I just knew.”
I leaned closer. “What did you know, Demetrius?”
“That I loved him. He was Morgon. And he was human. And he was my blood. In that moment, all the foolishness my father used to preach became just that—foolishness.”
I bent my head, nuzzled his mouth open with my own, and stroked my tongue over his, wanting to devour the delicious man. “I’m so glad Jessen and Lucius had Julian,” I murmured against his lips.
He smiled against mine, “I am, too.”
Chapter 12
“Thank you, Aunt Asheera.” I hugged her close on her hotel room terrace. “It’s been so difficult to wrap my head around the fact that he is meant to be mine.”
She pulled back and squeezed my shoulders. “It is not the first time a human and Morgon were meant for each other. It will not be the last.” She tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear in her maternal way. “Remember that our very existence comes from the union of a human and a dragon.”
I smiled at that. “Morga and Radomis.”
“Yes. As the tales tell, soulfire burned hot and hard within his breast from the moment he saw her. We cannot deny this pull when our dragon calls to us. You must tell Demetrius the truth.”
Readying for flight, I moved toward the edge of the terrace. “I will.”
“I know you’re afraid. But you must tell him.”
“I’m just waiting for the right moment,” I said, looking back over my shoulder.
She smiled her knowing smile and shook her head. “Youth. You’re always waiting for something. Tell him, Shakara.”
I blew her a kiss and beat my wings hard, lifting up into the air. My Nightwing Security shadow wasn’t far off. I’d actually gotten used to him following me. He remained far enough behind so not to make my dragon edgy, but close enough to watch for danger.
Dusk was creeping into darkness as I headed home. My wrist comm beeped. It was Carra, sending a text message that we had a last-minute patient, a human boy. I veered my course and made short work of the flight to the clinic.
I slowed, soaring over the Warwick district, and punched a quick message to Demetrius I’d be late for our date at 7:30. He replied immediately he’d pick me up at the clinic. I smiled at how fast the stern businessman had become my doting boyfriend. And I was glad I’d worn my pretty pink skirt and black blouse to work today.
The street level was quiet since most businesses were closed except for the bistro and a few clothing shops. After landing in front of the clinic, I took a second to smooth down my skirt and wave a hand to my guard who kept vigil on the rooftop of the building across the street. I slipped into the clinic, but Carra wasn’t at her desk. She must be with the patient and his mother.
“Carra?”
The light in my office was on. Before I reached the open doorway, I sensed someone’s heartbeat thrumming like mad, the acrid taste of fear in the air. I p
eeked in without going in. Carra was bound and gagged in my office chair. She shook her head back and forth, trying to scream a warning.
I fled back down the hallway but was grabbed from behind, carried into an examination room, and slammed with my back to the wall.
“Ah!” My head rattled and my wings were crushed by the weight of the hideous man pressing his weight against me. A rough hand covered my mouth.
“If you scream for help, I’ll break your girl’s neck in the next room.”
He was a large bald-headed man with cold eyes and an even colder voice. “Do you understand?”
I nodded. He lifted his hand away from my mouth. I shifted enough to flatten my wings so they were no longer pinned in a position where he could break them with his suffocating weight. He wrapped his fingers around my throat, applying slight pressure.
“What do you want?” I asked, breathing hard.
His gaze swept down my body then back up. “I’m here to hurt you.”
“Wh-what?” Now it was my heart beating frantically in my chest.
Keeping one beefy hand on my throat, his other covered my breast and squeezed till I gasped in pain. “There are a number of ways to hurt a woman,” he said, grinning like a sadistic demon. “Boss didn’t say how I could do the job.”
“Who the hell are you?” I spat out, anger riding hard alongside the fear. “Who sent you?”
His groping hand reached for something in his back pocket. I slashed out with my fingernails and raked his face, kicking up with my knee at the same time. He blocked my knee but couldn’t block my hand. In one rough move, he picked me up and slammed me face-down on the examination table. My lungs squeezed as he leaned all his weight on me from behind, my wings falling out straight. He gripped the top arch and bent to the point of pain.
“No!” I begged, barely able to breathe with him on top of me. “Please don’t.”
He eased up but kept a tight grip. I heard a metallic flick, then he showed me the knife he held in his hand. “I’m going to break this pretty wing after I break your pretty spirit.” He pressed the blade to my cheek, enough that I could feel the sharp prick of steel but not so hard that it broke the skin. “Such soft, pale skin.” He glided the flat of the blade down my cheek. “Should I put a nice scar here first?” He released my wing then fisted a hand in my hair and wrenched my head back.
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