Adi places a hand in the center of all that muscle, feeling his strong steady heartbeat. Slash’s exhale is rough as he captures her hand, holding her fingers tightly.
“Well, I guess our options are taking our chances at the Northwestern and hope another Red hasn't sought pack membership, or hang around here until the Lanarre come for us.”
“We're not staying.”
Adi nods. She doesn't want to stay, either, though Della's been cool. For a witch.
They'll just take off and move south.
Nobody is going to know what happened up here unless they confess. And they won't.
Ever.
*
Adi thinks she's died and gone to heaven. Buttery flavor explodes inside her mouth as crumbs tumble from her lips.
So good. Adi gives an internal groan of acute satisfaction.
Della's face lights with a broad smile. “Do you like those?”
“Like? Pfft—love!” Adi chimes, licking sticky honey off each finger.
Slash folds his muscular arms, giving her a look of indulgent tolerance. “What?” she asks, reaching for her third biscuit. “I'm starved.”
“I would never have my mate without food,” Slash comments in a droll voice, directing a secret smirk at Della.
They can bite me.
Adi grins, stuffing half a muffin into her mouth. Having sex with Slash and eating this huge breakfast has made her feel invincible.
Having sex with Slash. Her grin broadens wider, if that’s even possible.
“What are you smiling about?”
A fine blush broils over her cheeks, and Adi's suddenly very interested in finishing the eggs and cheese left on her plate.
Slash gives a satisfied chuckle.
“Terrific grub, Della.” A wistful pang hits Adi. Della's cooking reminds her of Susan. She's probably on my mind a lot because we're heading there today.
Adi blinks, momentarily dizzy, and she glances at Slash, who's speaking quietly with Della.
She sets down her fork and takes a swig of OJ. Bright citrus flavors cover her tongue as chilled juice flows down her throat, hitting the warm load of food she put in her stomach.
Another wave of dizziness strikes, and she makes a small noise of distress.
Slash is suddenly beside her, taking her hands in his.
“What is it?” His dark eyes are rimmed with green, and Adi knows his beast swims below the surface like a shadow beneath water.
Adi puts a shaky hand on her forehead, and her palm comes away clammy. “I don't know, I was okay—hungry—then I got dizzy all of the sudden.”
Maybe it's the heat. Adi clings to Slash. “I'll be okay, probably a lot going down. What with leaving and everything.”
“Nobody's going anywhere,” Della says.
Slash's face whips to the witch.
Too late.
The shotgun kicks, and buckshot hits Slash in his flank as he shields Adi's body with his own.
Adi screams, trying to stand, and the edges of her vision go black.
“What the fuck?” Adi roars, trying to help Slash.
“No—” he gasps.
Adi tries to sight in on him, but she can't see.
I'm fucking passing out.
Holes ooze with blood, and dawning realization slams into Adi.
Della's the enemy.
She and Slash mated in this house. Slept here. Showered.
Ate.
Adi gazes at her nearly empty plate as Della props the shotgun against the pot-bellied wood stove. “You forced my hand, young wolf,” she says, bustling to where Adi stands.
Adi tries to push out her talons but falls on her ass instead. Next to Slash.
“Adi!” He attempts rolling onto his hands and knees.
Why isn't Slash healing this? Adi asks herself. Her mouth tries to form a question but she's been struck stupid and slow.
“Silver!” he bellows.
Oh no.
Della reaches them.
Adi swings out with her arm, and the witch casually bats her hand away. Her palm smacks the edge of the end table, and Adi yelps, pain chasing the lethargy back.
The witch poisoned her.
Slash slices through Della's heavy skirts, missing her leg by a millimeter.
“No ya don't, Red.” Her fist strikes him in the head, and Slash's skull hits the floor with a resounding thud.
“Slash!” Adi's scream fills the cottage.
He's out cold. How can a witch do that to a Red Were?
Adi's tears burn down her face, and she crawls to her beloved mate. “Slash...”
“He'll be dead soon, young wolf.”
Della flips Adi over easily. And she stares up at the old woman who is no longer old, but as young as Adi. “He did what I wanted. He pricked you, and now you carry his whelp. And that whelp will lift my curse.”
Moon. Adi's head swims.
“The trolls?” Adi asks senselessly, trying to crawl away as Della inches closer.
The smile on Della's young face is cruel. “Guardians of the innocent.”
“They would have helped us?” Tears run freely now as snot fills her nose and her stomach heaves.
Slash is going to die.
Adi's heartbeats fill her, blood coursing like a river inside her eardrums.
Della wants their baby.
Adi wants Slash. But he's full of silver buckshot while an insane witch has poisoned her.
Moon help us.
CHAPTER NINE
Tessa
“Is the door locked?” she asks breathlessly, eyes scanning the solid wood.
Laz gently fans her ebony locks of hair from beneath her, spreading the wavy tendrils far and wide on the large bed.
“If they wish to come in, there is no stopping it.”
But Tessa craves the illusion of security—and privacy. It's hard to focus with Laz's nudity literally in her face.
Her eyes run down his body. He's a beautifully sculpted male, hard and ready. A flash of her heat has Tessa clenching her teeth in pain, and she knows that a Were male would be the ideal choice to relieve the agony by breeding her.
In fact, she's not entirely certain that the seed from any male will do.
What Tessa does know is she wants Laz. If she were honest with herself, she's wanted him nearly the instant she bumped into him in the butler's pantry at Region One.
Tessa didn't run from Tramack for twenty years so she could exchange one Were for another. And Lazarus is no Were.
Tessa chooses who she will eventually mate—and breed—with.
Her core pulses for a male, true—Tessa can't help the biology that brings heat for Lycan females. But the benefit of choice in this instance is a heady one.
Laz's nostrils flare, and using his knees, he walks deeper between her spread legs. He spared her panties when he tore off her other clothes.
Literally. Tore them off. Now where will I get new ones?
Her thoughts scatter as Laz's fingertips trail along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. A riot of gooseflesh flows like a river after his touch, squelching thoughts of her wardrobe.
Tessa sits up, wrapping her arms around his naked form, dangerously close to the tip of an impressive erection.
Laz releases his next inhale in a raw eruption of oxygen, laying his large palm at the base of her skull.
She burns for this male. Every deep and penetrable part of her wants Lazarus. Tessa can scent his maleness, along with an alien note of fragrance that is utterly foreign to her, and yet as familiar as home.
Tessa clutches him, and Laz draws in another shaky breath as her fingertips bite into the muscles of his hard ass.
She turns her face and slowly, so slowly—flicks her tongue out, tasting him for the first time.
His dick kicks beneath her wet touch, and Laz sinks his fingers into her hair, pulling her head back until her throat is a long, taut line of flesh exposed before him.
Vulnerable.
A female Wer
e would show her throat only to a male she trusted with her life.
It's at that moment that Tessa knows.
He might be a devil, but Laz is the other piece of her. The part that she's been unwittingly running toward all this time. Lazarus is why no Were ever seemed right, why she let her heat ride her unmercifully while she hid in the dark. Sure, Tessa had sex before. But sex outside of heat is not meaningful. It's simple relief from basic needs.
Laz hisses. “Do not—or I will go against your mouth instead of inside you, female.”
Tessa tries to swallow but can't. She reaches for that quivering staff of hot flesh and wraps her slender fingers around his thick girth tinted a light red like the rest of him.
Perfect. Straight. Hard.
Laz groans, breaking her desperate hold on him and bends over her, tightening his grip on her hair.
She gasps, pain mixing with anticipation. His eyes move to charcoal, then he's kissing her like he'll eat her from the inside out.
Tessa thought he would bruise her lips with the need that darkened his gaze. But Laz surprises her with a gentle sweep of his fevered flesh against her mouth.
She opens her lips, and his tongue slides between them, caressing and plunging.
Tessa wants what he does with his mouth—from his cock.
She whimpers, pain and pleasure saturating her sex with want, and Laz scoops her roughly against him.
Her breasts are crushed against his hard chest, and she has trouble breathing. Tessa's not sure if it's because Laz is so close, or because he holds her so tightly.
She loves it.
He speaks quietly against her temple, “When I had you in that closet at the Singer compound for only a kiss—I knew.”
“I did, too,” Tessa admits breathlessly. “I've never felt like I do for you about anyone.”
“But you could stop feeling that.” Laz lifts her, seating her above his erection, and she wraps his waist with her legs. Only the thin, lacy material of her panties separates their flesh from joining as she so desperately wants.
“I don't feel like I could,” Tessa says, clinging to his broad shoulders as she rolls her lips along his muscular chest, capturing his nipple in her mouth.
She lightly nips the hard flesh with her teeth, and Laz groans.
Laz throws his head back, hanging on to her ass. “You could, ah—Tessa—my cock weeps for you. Stop that nibbling.”
“Okay.” She releases his nipple with a pop and a quick flick of her tongue. She looks at him through her eyelashes as he dips his chin to regard her.
Swirling blackness drowns the color of his irises to dark coins inside his face.
Tessa should be afraid.
Laz's skin has gone from pale to light red, and his eyes are devoid of color. Metallic black bumps of bone break the smooth light-blond hair that covers his head.
Horns.
But Laz's hands are tender on her. Every fingerprint on her skin is a branding of fire from his touch.
“You'll feel hot inside me,” she whispers, stroking his length. The girth doesn't allow her fingers to meet.
“Let's see.”
Cradling her butt with one arm, he jerks the side of her panties, tearing the fragile fabric, and flings them to the ground. Laz brushes his tip against her entrance.
They groan together at the contact, and a wave of scorching heat sweeps her body, causing her hips to hike in shameless greed for what he offers.
“Please,” she begs, “I can't stand the heat...”
“The need,” Laz says as though he understands.
He begins to enter her, using her hips like handles and holding her body above his seeking, hard length.
Slowly, he lowers her, impaling her on his tip.
Laz is not hot as she'd anticipated but... “Perfect.” Tessa arches, widening her legs further.
His palm slides up her back. Her spine is slick with sweat while his other palm holds her ass against him. Laz pushes more of him inside, and Tessa's body begins to resist all that male flesh piercing her so thoroughly, stretching her tightness.
Laz slows, and Tessa feels their heartbeats unite.
She opens her eyes and finds his have gone to glacial blue.
Laying her on the bed, he keeps her hips high while her head is against the soft mattress.
“Do I hurt you?” he asks softly at the exact moment his thumb presses against the juicy bundle of nerves between her slick folds.
“No,” Tessa breathes, rolling her face to the side and trying to ram her hips down on Laz.
“Not yet, Redemptive.” The word slides over her, soothing her, making her more drenched for him.
A little more of him slides inside, slowly stretching Tessa, making her feel—and want—every fat, long inch.
As he moves in and out, a great pressure begins to build deep inside her.
“Please—harder,” Tessa begs, her heat swamping her sex, igniting her core like a brushfire.
“Patience,” Laz says in a tight voice, but he's killing her with his thumb swirling on her wetness, and a tingling begins at her raw nerve endings.
With a last push, Laz brings himself to the end of her, where they throb together, joined tight.
“Yes.” Tessa's breath eases out of her from want, from her heat.
Kissing her womb, Laz slowly withdraws.
When he pushes back inside, Tessa throws her head back in a silent scream of pleasure, so full of his length that she can't take another breath.
Laz chuckles then swings his hips as he rocks into her deeply again.
Tessa whimpers before she explodes around him, pulsing with so much force, he fights to stay within her depths. When her body's clenching finally subsides, she says, “My turn,” and sits upright with him still inside.
Laz captures her around the waist, instinctively knowing what she wants, and he lies back with her riding him.
“I'm going to do you now.” The hint of a growl edges her words.
Laz smolders up at her, steam pouring out of him. The fragrance of him is like the smell of the best food on the planet.
“What is that?” Tessa asks, breathing deeply of him, but Laz doesn't reply.
His hips begin a deep, punishing rhythm beneath her. Tessa throws her head back, meeting every upward thrust.
Before she can guess at the wonderful scent Laz is producing, he's rocking inside her so hard that another orgasm begins to build.
Tessa's beast surfaces, roiling beneath her skin, begging for Laz's seed to cool her heat.
Tessa realizes she wants to be pregnant with Laz’s child. This is why she couldn't use another male during her heat.
Her body is made for this moment.
When she comes again, Laz is helpless beneath her, going rigid as she milks him of his own release.
The jets of his essence cool her heat, and she collapses on top of him. Their labored breathing is the only sound in the room.
His delicious scent lingers.
Laz and Tessa lay together for several minutes. Finally, he gently rolls her off him and tucks her against his side. Giving her his full attention while he moves a stray hair from her face, Laz says quietly, “I have planted my seed deep.”
Tessa wants to laugh at his ancient language. She's been in the world of humans far too long, thinking and speaking with their slang and words. But something in the way he says the words has her sitting up on her elbow.
“Ah, yeah—I feel really good now.” Thank Moon, because she was desperate and needy. Stressed. Tessa's still horribly anxious, but at least she doesn't have the heat riding her.
Laz brought her some fucking peace. And that emotion's been hard won over the past two decades she spent running from Tramack.
Laz strokes her face, running his hand down her long black hair. “Sated, Tessa?”
A slow exhale slides out as a tight knot in her stomach loosens. Whether the orgasms or Laz's nearness are the cause, she's not sure. But neither could have hurt. She gives
him a small, spent smile. “Yes. This is the first time I've allowed myself to be bred during heat,” she admits softly.
Lazarusʼs smile is wide, and she stares at how white his teeth are against a bright-red tongue. A tongue that was everywhere on her body.
“Me, too.”
Tessa jerks up into a sitting position. “What?”
Laz gives a lazy nod, flopping back against the soft sheets and pillows. “The demonic have a need, as well.”
“Heat?” Tessa nearly yells, her heart beginning to race.
He presses a fingertip to lips that are plump from his kisses, tracing the swell of her full bottom lip.
Laz lifts a heavy shoulder. “Of a sort. But I'm male. With the right female, I will release a pheromone, a very specific one. It calls my breeding seed to the surface, and only a sterile female will not give me what my body requires.”
“What is that?” Tessa asks, though she's certain she knows. His answer is more a confirmation than anything.
“Offspring.”
CHAPTER TEN
Dark Master
Water like heated oil coats every surface of rough tumbled charcoal-colored boulders. They fit together perfectly, lining the walls of the subterranean environment of Hadesʼs interconnecting and well-traveled corridors.
Dark Master is of course, as always, in his element. Perfectly suited to the smoldering atmosphere, he is unable, and uninterested, in going Above. Visiting the realm of humanity and supernaturals who live Between is about as interesting as uttering a prayer to He whom they shall never mention.
That is why he instructed Praile, his most trusted servant, to move Between in his stead. Praile was unusually keen for the half-breed high demon, Lazarus, accompanying him.
The Dark Master snorts, loosing plumes of steam. Lazarusʼs loathsome looks notwithstanding, he possesses a certain charm.
And the healing skills! Dark Master folds his hands, careful not to shred his deep-red skin with his own ebony razor-sharp talons. Lazarus was nearly indispensable to the sort of torture Hades perpetuates.
He knots his hands carefully behind his back and dips his chin. Dark Master has not heard from Praile in almost two Between days.
Given the circumstances of the objective—to infect or kill the Rare One—Dark Master's directive might have been a challenge to accomplish, even for Praile. Though Devil knows, he is as vile a servant of Hades as any.
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