by Celia Kyle
Not scary, though, as evidenced by Tori’s response. “What? You had this and you’re going after that.”
Another sneer from the twig. Did the woman even have breasts? Maybe she was a hungry vamp who hadn’t eaten in a while.
Caith adopted her very best, nicest smile—which was a feat considering her heritage—and laid it out for the chick. “Honey, I’m the best cocksucker south of the Mason-Dixon.” Sam stiffened, the woman’s mouth dropped open, and Caith flicked her fingers at the competition. “Now, move along.”
The chick continued to look like a fish, lips parting and then closing once again. “What’s the Mason-Dixon? Are you gonna let her talk to me that way?”
Sam buried his face in her hair, his body shaking with a chuckle. “You’re bad.”
Caith turned her head to speak against his temple. “You like me that way.”
“You’re right.” He eased back to meet her gaze. “I do.”
“Dammit, Sam.” The chick stomped.
“Have a good night, Tori.” Sam released Caith just enough to grab her hand and lead her away, leaving the glaring Tori in their wake.
He managed to keep it together until they claimed a table in the back of the bar, their space tucked into a dim corner. She moved to slide into a chair, but he was there first and held it for her. She didn’t bother glaring at him for the consideration. It was… nice. No other guy had taken the time to think of her. Only what she could give them.
Instead of leaving his chair in place, he tugged it close to her and sat so their legs touched from thigh to calf. His weight was soothing and arousing, calming her nerves from being in a strange, human-only place and sparking her desire for him once again. Damn man.
Sam leaned close. “Best cocksucker this side of the Mason-Dixon?”
Caith tilted her head toward him. “I have been given that award more than once.”
She didn’t miss his growl and definitely didn’t miss his forceful actions moving her until their lips were once again pressed together. It wasn’t an equally balanced passion. No, it was him taking and claiming her with his mouth. She sank into their connection, allowing him to take the lead and put his brand on her. The wolf lay passively in her mind, her hellfire banked beneath his onslaught. For the first time in her life, she was passive and giving with a male.
And it scared the hell out of her.
He broke the kiss as if sensing her sudden unease, pressing his forehead to hers as they shared breath. “Never again, Caith.”
That familiar part of her psyche bristled, hating demands from anyone, but his next word had it shut down in an instant.
“Please.”
Okay, she could handle a please.
“I wouldn’t, Sam,” she murmured.
“Good.” He brushed his lips over her forehead and leaned away, reaching past her to snag something from a passing man. He released a low “thanks” to the guy and then returned his attention to her.
He held a bundle of laminated sheets bound together by a single ring in one corner. Each page had print on both front and back and she scooted closer to see what he’d been handed. It looked a little thick to be a menu…
Her eyes scanned the top of the page and she froze, disbelief filling every ounce of her. She slowly turned her gaze from the pages to meet Sam’s stare.
“Seriously?”
He gave her a goofy grin.
“I mean, seriously?”
That smile widened.
“Hell no, Sam.”
“C’mon.” He bumped his shoulder against her. “We can learn a lot about each other from our choices.”
“Like you have horrible taste? Because I know that already.” She stared at the plastic covered sheets as if they were puppies ready to come to life. The purity of puppies… she shuddered.
“You know you wanna do it. Quit trying to pretend you don’t.”
Caith shook her head. “No, the not wanting is completely real. Hard core, hard pass.”
“One. Just do one and if you hate it, I won’t push you.”
Caith eyed the sheets, fear thumping through her veins. Did she want to do this? No. But it was obvious it’d make him happy so… “Fine. One song. One. And I pick the location of our next date because it sure as hell isn’t going to be karaoke.”
Sam’s blinding smile made her heart stutter and her breath catch.
Okay, maybe she’d belt out two.
Chapter Thirteen
Caith roared the last chorus of the song, raising her voice and singing loudly enough so On High and Hell heard her. Amazingly enough, once she had the microphone in hand, she’d actually enjoyed herself. Which was… weird. But, they didn’t kick her off stage for modifying the songs, so all was good in her singer-ly world. It was good in their worlds, too. Had they voiced a single objection to her freestyle substitutions… It would have been Hell on Earth.
She tilted her head back and released the final, off-key and horribly flat note. Panting from exertion, she lowered the mic and finally let her gaze move from the ceiling to the crowd.
The non-clapping, non-hooting, non-woo-hooing crowd. Caith glared at them, letting the heat of her anger rest on each man and woman in turn. She forgave Tori for her fury, Caith stole Sam after all, but the rest… She sneered at them, one final warning before she opened up a can of hellfire whoop ass.
Sam jumped to his feet, hands clapping loudly and a whistle escaping his lips with a shrill screech. That seemed to shake everyone from their stupor and she at least got a few half-hearted claps.
Barbarians. Didn’t they know expertly crafted lyrics when they heard them? Cyndi Lauper hadn’t been popular in the eighties for no reason.
One last glare for the crowd and Caith shoved the microphone at the MC before walking to the edge of the stage and hopping down without a hitch in her step. The patrons parted for her, some even stumbling out of her way as her anger smacked into them. Heathens.
She knew her anger hovered around her like a dark and dangerous fog, but…
Cyndi Lauper. C’mon, man, that was a classic.
She stomped the last few feet toward a grinning Sam and she didn’t voice a single protest when he hauled her into his arms and laid a rough kiss on her lips. It was short and hard and… delicious.
“That was…” he chuckled. “Something.”
“Amazing. The word you’re looking for is amazing.” She arched an eyebrow, daring him to disagree with her.
“Aww, amica.” Another kiss, this one gentle and lingering. “You’re amazing.”
“No one else appreciated it,” she grumbled.
“No one has ever heard Girls Just Want to Have Fun quite that way before.” He lowered his head, mouth against her ear. “Big penis, Caith?”
She shrugged. “I have fun with a big penis. So, I tacked that on.”
Girls just want to have fuuuuunnnn… with a big penis. The melody still floated through her mind and each repetition had her easing toward releasing a smile.
She turned her head, her own lips brushing him. “Be thankful I made it family friendly.”
Sam snorted. “Right.”
“I could have said nine-inch cock.” She rocked her hips against his, a slight movement that had his breath catching. “But I didn’t want to tell all the women how big you are. They’d try to take you, I’d have to kill them, and it’d be Chicago all over again.”
“Caith,” he groaned. “Quit moving.” He gripped her hips. “Please.”
She huffed. “Fine. Ruin my fun.”
Sam brushed his lips over her neck and stepped back. “Take a seat. I’m up after this guy.”
He scooted around her and she sat in his chair, breathing in his scent as she watched him weave his way through tables and past patrons. Damn, the man looked as good going as he did coming. Not coming, coming. Just, like, walking toward her. She really needed to get sex off her brain because now she was thinking about him harde
ning and their hips meeting and…
The rough scrape of wood over concrete alerted her to her new companion. The chair beside her was yanked away and then Tori—the whore—sat beside her.
“I don’t know why he’s with you,” she snapped.
“And yet he is.” Caith rolled her eyes and gave Sam a reassuring smile when he stared at them. “So, run along.” She made a shooing motion with her fingers. “Should I throw a ball for you, puppy?”
“Did you just—”
“You are chasing after him like a small dog. And you yap a lot.” She focused on the annoying woman. “Is that on purpose or is just instinctual? I haven’t really made a study of your people.”
Now she sounded like a speciesist. Which, she was a tiny bit, but Jezze always told her it wasn’t nice to act like she was better than others. Even if she was. Because, really, half-demon werewolf on one side and skinny human on the other… The choice was pretty obvious.
“Are you serious?” Tori’s eyes were wide, the whites shining brightly in the dim light.
Caith took a sip of her whiskey, enjoying the burn as it slid down her throat. She licked her lips, catching any hint that remained. She kept her eyes trained on Sam, watching desire fill his features when she lingered on her lower lip.
“Excuse me,” Tori nudged Caith’s forearm.
Oh, Hell no. She slowly panned her attention to the annoying human and slid her fiercest glare in place. It was the look that sent thelacs running and her uncle’s most dangerous demons scattering. “As serious as On High striking you dead.”
The chick screwed up her face and poked again. “What are—”
“You’re gonna remove your hand, stand up, and walk away.” Caith’s wolf disagreed. She urged her to tear their competition to shreds and be done with it. Sam was beginning his song at any moment.
The woman frowned. “Sam—”
All right. Enough. Caith turned toward Tori. “You know those homicidal women who get all jealous and kill their boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend because the woman still has the hots for her guy? You following me?” Tori nodded. “I’m that chick. I will straight up cut you and feed you to my best friend’s gators.”
Tori gulped, her face suddenly pale and her expression filled with fear. “Uh…”
“Run along, now.” Caith tried the shooing motion again and Tori stumbled to her feet.
“You’re crazy.”
Caith nodded and took another burning sip of her drink, hissing with the sting. “Yup, pretty much.”
With one last glare, the woman stomped off.
Good riddance.
Just as she lost sight of Tori, the opening stirrings of a song filled the air and she turned her attention back to the stage. Sam stood beneath the spotlight in all his dark and sexy glory, and not for the first time, she hated the fact he wasn’t ready to throw his angelic—literally—life away for her.
All in due time, she supposed.
The guitar kicked it off, the notes telling her exactly what her guy was about to belt out and she rolled her eyes. Because, really? Summer of 69?
Caith sighed and ignored Sam’s singing. She was too enthralled by the shake of his hips and the way his shirt stretched over his chest. That had her thinking of stripping the fabric from his body and…
She needed to get laid. Bad. Except she only wanted Sam and she knew that wasn’t about to happen.
Caith sang along in her mind. Back in the summer I learned about 69…
Sue her. The original lyrics weren’t that fun.
His gaze locked on hers, she figured teasing him wasn’t out of the question so she lifted her glass to her mouth and licked the rim, running her tongue along the edge. His expression turned even more heated, but he continued singing. Huh. Next she took a small sip and lowered the tumbler so he could see her mouth. She once again licked her lips, lingering on the lower lip and then capturing it between her teeth to nibble lightly.
Oh, that had him stumbling a little, but he continued his song.
When his attention was diverted, she eased her chair over, giving him a clearer shot of her. Specifically, her legs and the way her skirt slid a little higher over her thighs.
Ooh, he mangled that verse. She almost felt bad.
But she was half-demon, so that feeling didn’t last.
When he still continued singing, she fingered the hem of her skirt, sliding her fingers beneath the fabric and nudging the cloth a hint higher. And that did the trick.
Sam gave up every pretense of singing and simply shoved the mic at the MC and jumped from the stage, the jarring of the hop not slowing him a bit. He closed in on her, racing between tables and customers until he was at her side. He snared her hand and pulled her to her feet, careful despite his obvious need.
“We’re leaving.”
Caith poked out her lower lip in a fake pout. “Already? I was going to sing—”
He snarled at her and spun, forcing her to trail after him and she couldn’t suppress the grin that jumped to her lips. Sure, karaoke had been interesting, but an evening surrounded by Tori and a bunch of random humans paled in comparison to private time with Sam.
Besides, she ached to kill them all and be done with it. Humans were so, so… annoying.
She kept pace with him as they raced through the night, dodging parked cars and random humans they came across. In seconds they were behind the bar, their vehicle still tucked in the darkness. Sam dragged her to the borrowed car and spun her around until her back was pressed against the cool metal.
“Tease,” he growled and then he was against her, surrounding her, consuming her with his need.
He tasted, nipped, bit, and caressed her everywhere he could reach. There wasn’t a hint of exposed skin he didn’t encounter, sensitizing her nerves with his nearness. When he hooked a hand behind her knee and encouraged her to lift her leg and wrap it around his waist, she snarled, causing him to freeze in place.
“Caith?” She sensed the worry in his tone.
“This fucking skirt is too fucking tight to fucking do this fucking fuck fuck.” She wanted him touching her, dammit. Touching and rubbing and making her come and she didn’t give a fucking fuck fuck that they were in the middle of a human-laced parking lot.
Sam released her leg, his hand smoothing the fabric back in place yet still teasing her with his caresses. “This isn’t the place anyway. You just… you make me forget.”
Caith hummed. “I like forgetting. Lots of it. All of the forgetting and much fucking.”
“Caith.” She caught his grimace despite the darkness.
“I know, I know.” She did even if she hated him a little bit. “I’m good.” She took a deep, calming breath. “I’ll be good.”
“Caith! This way!” The strange male’s shout yanked her attention from Sam and her body’s reaction was instinctual.
Her wolf rushed forward, anxious to protect them from whatever threat lurked, and her fangs dropped. They extended and sharpened in a stinging rush and the light coppery flavor of her blood dappled her tongue. Her hellfire was next, the heat enveloping her while her vision reddened as the fire filled her eyes.
She was Caith Belinha Morningstar, Princess of Hell, and nobody fucked with what belonged to her.
Samkiel, Angel of Destruction, belonged to her. He just hadn’t accepted it yet.
“What the—” Sam’s question was cut off by the rapid click and sudden flashes of light that told her the enemy wasn’t an individual but a machine.
A small bit of metal and plastic that had the power to destroy everything she’d built.
“Fuck. Snatch him.”
One date. One night. One snippet of time. That’s all she wanted. Just a chance to be a normal demon girl going out with her gel boy. But no, some dick with a camera had to hunt her down and snap pics.
“Caith?” Sam still hadn’t caught on, but she didn’t have time because the fucker was already racing towa
rd a car on the other side of the lot and he couldn’t get behind the wheel. The second he got the thing roaring down the street, she’d have to hunt him. Which would probably take all damned night and she had a date to finish.
Those thoughts had her hating the stranger even more. If her makeup got messed up… Or her shoes. Her shoes.
She knew there’d be scuffs. She just knew it.
The lights on the vehicle flashed, telling her the male managed to get it unlocked.
He so wasn’t getting away. She put on a little additional speed, careful to keep it slow enough for human standards, but still quick enough to catch him.
Ten feet separated them. Then five. Then two.
“Gotcha,” she hissed as she tackled him.
Their momentum destroyed his grip on the car and sent them rolling into the grass and out of the low light cast by street lamps. Darkness enveloped them and she fought her hellfire to retreat. Lighting up like a bonfire wasn’t exactly circumspect.
The camera clattered across the ground, thumping over the hard surface and bouncing off the occasional rock. She really hoped that’d demolished whatever pics he’d managed to snare.
“What the fuck, Caith?” Sam’s hiss filled her ear, but she didn’t have time to be all answer question-y.
“Grab the camera. Destroy it.” She wrapped her hand around the human’s throat. Because he was human. No tweener, dem, or gel would risk pissing her off. Green-eyed fuckers excluded. She really needed to figure those out.
But for now…
“Caith?” Sam again.
“Grab the camera.” She jerked her chin toward the right. “It’s over there somewhere. Destroy it.”
“Wha—”
The man beneath her squirmed and fought to get free, so she tightened her hold on his neck. “You will stay put or you will never get up again. Got it?” The stranger stilled and the stench of fear burned her nose. “Good.” She jerked her head in a quick nod. “He had a camera, Sam, and he surprised me. While you simply gasp when surprised, I do a hell of a lot more. Which he took a picture of. Grab it. Destroy it. Period.”
Still frowning, Sam left her and she ignored his censorious look. The man didn’t know what it was like to be her, to be responsible for keeping their kind under wraps amongst humans. Sure, he destroyed things, but under orders. Caith had to think for herself to ensure everyone’s safety and more often than not, that involved violence. Staring down at the male who’d interrupted her date, she decided it’d involve a lot of violence.
