“I know who you are, human, and you are incorrect. The skull would be mine. I will be the one to give it to my master.” Her gaze swung back to Katungi. “Where is it?”
Lillian’s knees almost gave out after Jahi turned the force of her stare on Katungi. She put more space between herself and him as Jahi moved until she was less than a foot from the warlord.
Katungi panted as well, his chest heaving with effort. His cock was pushed against his pants, straining to bust free. Sweat sheened his skin, the odor heavy in the air mixing with sex and hunger.
“I…” he began, then stopped and swallowed, his throat working convulsively, “…I do not have it, and I do not know where it is.”
Jahi stared at him intently. After a few seconds, she shook her head. “That’s too bad. My master will not be pleased. I’m afraid this is very terrible news for you.” She took her gaze from him and looked back at Lillian.
This time, Lillian did not swoon. Jahi grinned, an almost conspiratorial expression as if she were trying to tell Lillian they were bound as sisters to what was going to happen.
Jahi turned back to Katungi. “Take off your shirt.”
For a moment, Lillian thought he was going to ignore her. To Lillian’s surprise, he unfastened his shirt, trembling fingers slipping on the buttons. When he was finally done, he slipped the top from his shoulders, letting the silk fall to the carpet into a smooth puddle.
“Very good,” Jahi crooned as she approached him. She laid a palm on his chest, then curled her fingers inward. Cotton-candy-pink nails dug into his skin. He grimaced and hissed with pain.
She walked around him, her fingers trailing across his arms to his shoulders and across his back. His body quivered with need. Even Lillian was unable to remain unaffected. Wetness soaked her underwear, her breathing shallow and rapid.
If she was this affected without being close to or being touched by Jahi, just how much did Katungi feel? And why did it not matter that she had no idea where Jahi came from?
The man’s skin had paled, turning into the color of dark butterscotch. His mouth was slack, the pulse in his throat visible under his skin. Jahi continued her explorations. Moving from front to back and front again. Every once in a while, she would dig her nails into his skin, creating little half-moons of red as she cut into his flesh.
As Lillian had suspected, instead of being upset at the pain, Katungi seemed to relish it, moaning with each cut of her nails.
“Let me see if I understand. You had the skull but now have lost it.”
He shuddered. “The skull was stolen from me. I have not been able to find the one who took it.”
“Do you suspect anyone?”
His breathing was loud, whistling through his lips. He shook his head. “No. A servant.” He gasped. “One of my men. I do not know.”
Jahi sighed. “I guess I will have to ask them all then.” Her gaze narrowed on the quivering puddle of man flesh standing before her.
Lillian recognized that look—predatory interest. Suddenly she felt very sorry for Katungi. Whatever Jahi had planned for him would not be pleasant. Lillian took a step backward. She did not need to see what the woman would do.
“No, stay,” Jahi snapped without taking her gaze from Katungi. “I will have need of you after this.”
Fear tightened her skin and she wanted to flee, but her feet remained rooted in place.
“I can get it back for you,” Katungi begged.
Lillian could see him struggling to move. Muscles flexed, straining to shift an unwilling body. Despite the lust that still flooded the room, another current lay just under—terror.
“How can you? You do not even know who has taken it.” Jahi shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. It seems you must pay for losing the skull.” She came around to his front. “Take off your pants.”
He moaned—a sound of fear, not pleasure. Trembling fingers tugged on the zipper and started to pull the pants down from his waist, then he unclenched his fingers and let go, dropping his hands to his sides.
A smile curled the corners of Jahi lips. “So you have some strength after all. No matter.” The smile disappeared. “Take off your pants. Now.”
“Please.”
“Do it.”
This time, no matter how much Lillian could tell he struggled, he could not stop his body’s betrayal. The pants slid down his hips and fell to his ankles. He wore no underwear so his sex, free of any encumbrance, jutted forth. Despite his fear, the potency of the woman’s appeal kept him hard.
Jahi stared at his cock, the slight smile curling her lips. “Very nice,” she purred. “If only I had the time to really indulge myself.”
She took his twitching member in her hand, her fingers curling around the fat width. He threw his head back, a long wail screaming from his throat. The twist of his face and rolled-back eyes was something she was familiar with—pleasure mixed with pain.
The veins in his neck corded as Jahi stroked him, pulling back and forth. The screams increased in volume, becoming one long shriek. Lillian covered her ears but still felt the man’s cries to the marrow of her bones.
The entire time, Jahi continued to smile, her smile becoming more malicious, more satisfied. With a final ear-splitting shriek, Katungi collapsed to the ground, and only then did Jahi release him. He writhed, his back arching until Lillian thought he would break his spine. Blood poured from his penis, pooling around his thighs, soaking the white carpet with scarlet.
As Lillian watched, his skin turned dark gray, then began flaking from his body, much like movies showing vampires turning to dust under the sun’s light. As he disintegrated, his screams died. After the horror of his shrieks, the silence was deafening.
When Katungi was a pile of ash surrounded by a sea of blood, Jahi turned to Lillian. She shrank back as the other woman approached. What was going on? How could any of this be possible?
“Tell me about your daughter.”
“My…my…daughter?” Why would the woman want to know about Catherine? And how could she even know Lillian had a daughter?
The smile that pulled at Jahi’s lips made Lillian shiver deep into her marrow. “Yes, your daughter, Catherine Elizabeth DeMartinez. She is a practitioner of magic. As you are, yes?”
“Yes. A little. Crystal magic.” Horror filled Lillian as she realized how easily the woman had compelled her to speak.
“Very good.” Jahi cupped her cheek in her palm, and tapped one long, pink fingernail against her lips. “How much does she know about the skull?”
Just after the moment she opened her mouth, Lillian pulled her teeth closed with an audible click. She refused to tell the woman anything else, even if it meant her death. She loved her daughter as much as she could love anyone.
Lillian was no fool—she knew she was selfish and had no business having a daughter. If she were less selfish, she’d have given Catherine up for adoption. Instead, she’d liked the idea of having a little girl to dress up and tote around as if she were Mother of the Year.
It hadn’t been long before that had gotten old, and soon Catherine was shuffled to the care of a parade of unattractive nannies, some of whom were actually good for her daughter.
Despite that, the thought of this woman knowing anything about or having contact with Catherine sent a sliver of terror knifing through her heart.
Jahi’s smile widened, her teeth no longer white and even. Her canines seemed sharper and longer than before. “Delicious. I love it when humans fight.” As she spoke, she looked down at the floor.
Lillian blinked rapidly. Had she just seen what she thought she’d seen? A small figure about three feet tall with gray, mottled skin and sharklike teeth standing at the woman’s side?
“What are you?” she whispered.
A loud peal of laughter spilled from Jahi. Her blonde hair and skin sloughed off, peeling away, leaving an androgynous shape of sickly yellow.
“I’m the demon who will take what I want from you, and when I’m done, go
after your daughter.”
Fingernails extended like claws, Jahi leaped at Lillian, hitting her square in the chest and forcing her to the blood-soaked carpet. Ten knives cut deep into her skin. Jahi’s mouth opened and fastened on Lillian’s neck like a leech. An immediate drawing sensation, like the taking of liquid through a straw, came from her.
The little gray figure she’d seen at the woman’s side materialized at her head, his red eyes filled with avarice and hunger. Even as Lillian’s energy drained, she felt her soul slip away and saw the creature’s mouth widen.
A lump formed in her throat at the thought of her daughter. Oh my God, what have I done? After that, she could think no more.
Chapter Ten
Mari stood in the opening while the helicopter hovered. Around her, the wind howled and tossed her braid, snapping it back and forth like a whip. Behind her, Jackson stood close, his mouth to her ear but not touching. Despite his nearness, she strained to hear his instructions over the roar of the wind and helicopter blades.
“You go first. I’ll be right behind you.” He reached around her and tapped the watch he called an altimeter he’d placed on her wrist, then said, “When this reaches nine thousand feet, pull this cord.”
His arm moved upward, coming to rest under her breast as he reminded her where to find the ripcord.
She froze, her nerve endings skittering. He molded himself against her back, pressing inward. With effort, she held herself immobile while her body longed to sink into his warmness. Every couple of inhales, she took in the scents of leather and masculine perspiration that teased and tantalized her senses.
“Relax,” he shouted. “You’ll be fine.”
Was that amusement under his words?
“When you land, it should be like you just stepped off a curb or from a stepstool. If it feels rough, don’t lock your knees or you’ll break a leg.” A short pause as if he was thinking about what he’d just said. “Even if you heal, I’m sure you won’t enjoy the pain.”
Would I feel pain? Does the fact I now know I have a soul change what I can feel? Or can’t feel? Right before jumping from this contraption might not be the right time to explore that line of thinking. What was Michael thinking to make her do as the humans do? A test?
Her shoulders were shaking, and she heard, “Mari? Are you ready?”
Ready for what? Not trusting her voice, she nodded.
“Remember, I’ll be right behind you. Watch the altimeter. Pull the ripcord. The chute will do the rest.”
Jackson unwrapped his arms and moved away. As he did, he patted her on the shoulder. “See you on the ground!”
She sucked in a deep breath and held it. Her upper body leaned toward the outside, her feet remaining locked in place. She imagined she heard Jackson whispering in her ear. You can do this, Marisol.
He was correct. The woman who was not afraid of demons could jump from a metal box miles above the Earth. Whatever Michael’s reasons, she would show him she could handle anything he threw at her.
“Go!”
With Jackson’s command, she let her body fall forward, gravity yanking her from the helicopter. The rushing wind deafened her to anything but the roaring in her ears. She expected to have the nauseating sensation of falling but didn’t. Her body felt cradled, like she was floating on a cushion of air instead of plummeting. Like flying but different, with nothing to do but ride the currents.
She lifted her wrist to check the height. Fires of Hell, she’d already reached the correct altitude. After reaching up, she grasped then tugged on the ripcord. A quick sensation of pausing, then she was gently swaying—a rocking motion. Above her, even in the early-morning darkness, she saw the outlines of the parachute. Under its canopy, all was quiet. The absence of the wind pummeling her ears left her head foggy.
Off to her right, she caught a flicker of movement. Jackson was not far from her. Exhilaration rushed through her, making her feel more alive than she had since she fell, making her long to cry out in joy. She scanned the midnight-blue sky around her. As she neared the ground, the flickering glow below became street and house lamps mixed with vehicle lights.
She coasted to the ground and like Jackson noted, her feet sank into the grass with a light bump. The parachute fluttered behind her, covering the field in a puddle of nylon. As she began working free from the lines and parachute, she watched him land not far from her.
When Jackson’s feet hit earth, he immediately searched for Mari. The demoness was a few feet from him, shrugging out of the chute. When she’d gotten free of the tangling cords and fabric, she looked up, seeking and finding him.
Jackson sucked in his breath at the look in her eyes and on her face. The jump had transformed the sexy, exotic woman into a thing of stunning beauty. Amethyst eyes glowed with delight, her lips full and red while a rosy blush kissed her flushed cheeks.
He barely had time to remove his own chute before she ran at him and wrapped her arms around him, almost bowling him over.
“That was amazing!”
He pulled her close, reveling in the feel of her strong yet curvy form against his. Ever since she’d flattened his ass in the practice room and he’d seen a different side to her—a softer, more feminine side—he’d wanted to experience that again. If all it took was putting her in a dangerous situation, he’d make sure to do it over and over.
Still wrapped in his arms, she bent backward at the waist so she could look at his face. The grin had relaxed the tense lines around her mouth and in her forehead, softening the edges into rounded curves and swells. As sexy as she was now, he could imagine that Marisol as an angel was simply breathtaking.
His gaze dropped to her lips. Before any thoughts of consequences could cross his mind, his hands slipped up her arms, bringing her closer. Her violet eyes widened as he lowered his head, his hungry mouth covering the perfection of hers,
In his arms, she was still and unyielding. He moved his mouth over hers, devouring its softness and drinking in the sweetness of her lips. At any second, he expected her to pull free and smack him with a ball of fire but she didn’t. Instead, he felt her lips move under his, the pressure firmer, and soon she returned his kiss with reckless abandon.
He wanted to slow down, to savor the taste and feel of her but found he lacked the willpower. Forcing her lips open, he tangled his tongue with hers and she matched his desire.
Her hand came up and cupped the back of his neck as she pulled him closer, her own exploration of his mouth becoming as hungry as his. Well howdy, ma’am. His fingers skimmed down her arm to her waist. He explored the soft lines and curves, then moved over her hips and back up again until he cradled the tender swell of her breast. Her flesh, even under the jumpsuit, seared his fingers. He brushed his thumb against her nipple and smiled inwardly when she shivered and moved closer.
She threw her head back, giving him clear access to her neck and the rapid flutter of her pulse. The beat matched the throbbing of his cock, which hungered to bury itself in her hot folds. A soft moan escaped her lips. He kissed the hollow of her throat and when he tried to go lower, he found his way blocked by the high collar of the jumpsuit.
He growled under his breath and pulled down the zipper. The fabric gave way, revealing creamy skin flushed with pink that beckoned his mouth. He dipped his head into the seductive valley of her breasts and pressed his lips against the satiny flesh. Pulling one side of the jumpsuit aside, his lips began their quest for the nipples hiding in the shadows.
As his mouth hovered over the jutting peak, Mari wrenched from his grasp, shoved his chest, pushing him violently away from her. He’d have landed on his ass, except for the chute folded around his ankles keeping him balanced. She skittered in reverse, putting a distance of about ten feet between them. In the early-morning light, before the sun rose, her lips glistened and he wanted to taste them again.
Her jumpsuit top gaped wide—the sight of ivory flesh under the moon’s glow tempted him beyond the ability to think smart.
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Jackson expected her to yell at him or, worse, kick the shit out of him. But other than her forceful separation, she simply stared at him, her expression closed. The softness from her skydiving experience was gone, the hard lines and edges returning with a vengeance. Something twisted in his gut at the loss. When she continued to stare at him without saying anything, he decided to speak.
“Don’t expect me to say I’m sorry,” he challenged, wanting to elicit some kind of reaction from her and figuring pissing her off would be at least something.
“I don’t.” Her head canted. “It was an interesting experience.”
“An…interesting…experience?” He felt his eyes widen. “That’s what the kiss was to you? Interesting?”
“That is what you humans call a kiss?” Her expression turned thoughtful. “Ah. I can see why humans enjoy doing it. A very pleasurable sensation.”
Jackson’s balls tightened as the tip of her tongue swept over her mouth, as if she was savoring the memory of his lips on hers. Jesus H. Christ, he groaned inwardly. Did the woman have no concept of just how desirable she was?
“Yes, rather enjoyable. I may have to try that again.”
His pulse leaped. Was that an invitation?
“It might prove entertaining to discover if other men taste the same way. If other kisses are as enjoyable.”
She was going to kill him, he thought as his knees went weak. To prevent himself from leaping at her and dragging her to the damp grass and showing her just why she wouldn’t be experiencing kisses with any other men, Jackson unbuckled the harness and let the chute drop to the ground.
Taking a few more seconds to compose himself, he stared at the mansion looming in the distance. A part of him noted when she unbuckled her own harness, and the sounds of shifting clothing as she slipped out of the jumpsuit and covered that revealing tank top with a jacket.
The Death Skull: Relic Defender, Book 2 Page 11
