“The human needs to be put down. He’s too far gone.”
Tegan laughed. “Perhaps he knows better than to allow a demoness to feed off him.”
“My abilities to seduce a simple human aren’t in question.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I will report my failure to Arawn and recommend the human Huntsman be tossed back into his pathetic mortal life. Unless…” She licked the blood off her lip, then smiled. “Unless you think you can succeed where I have failed. You and your sisters do enjoy bending males to your will and making them beg. My ex-lover still hungers for Arawn’s daughters.”
Ah, of course. Tegan sighed. Her damn foolish youth still bit her in the ass. She stared at the woman and tried to place her face.
Gina. The name popped into Tegan’s mind. Shit. “And how is the Demon King?”
“Come to the Haven and find out.” The female smirked. “Lucas returned to us a week ago and has left alone every night since. We all know who he’s waiting for.”
“Not me.” Tegan had made sure of it. She’d never taken the Demon King to her bed. The incubus had a reputation of entrancing his lovers, then leaving them. Her little sisters, Rowan especially, hadn’t cared what danger he posed, however. According to them, the sex he offered was worth the risk.
“He’s been siphoning our energy for over a thousand years. One of you needs to mate him. Our species is struggling to survive.”
Tegan shook her head, anxious for the conversation to be over. “Sorry, Gina. Work your magic on Lucas and leave us out of it.”
She stepped around the woman blocking her path.
Gina grabbed her arm, and Tegan let a growl trickle past her lips. The succubus dropped her hand but leveled a glare at her. “No. You did this to us. You will fix it, or the Huntsmen will regret it. Lucas has made it quite clear. He wants one of Arawn’s daughters as his mate.”
“Your king can demand all he wants. He doesn’t carry a god’s blood. The only way he can mate one of us is if we initiate it.” Tegan leaned closer and lowered her voice. “And I don’t want him, never did.”
“Then send the cat-eyed one.”
Rowan. Her raven hair and emerald eyes made her the most striking of the Huntsmen. She was also the only one who couldn’t take a mate. She’d started the mate bond with a human, but he died before completing their union.
“I don’t command my siblings to do anything I wouldn’t do.” Tegan shrugged. “As I said, I don’t want him.”
Gina glanced from Tegan to the cell door. “You want the human. I can smell it.”
Tegan leaned against the wall, an attempt to appear indifferent. She wasn’t. After years of passion at Ian’s hands, thinking of him excited her.
“I came to draw him back from his rage. I know exactly what’s required to soothe him. Why wouldn’t I be aroused?”
Gina huffed. “Please. Don’t feed my any bullshit. Your heart started racing the moment I called you on your interest. You want him for more than a quick fuck, don’t you?”
“What I want is none of your business.”
“I suppose not, but if you think offering up sex will keep him interested in you when it didn’t work for—”
“Enough.” Tegan turned her back on Gina and reached for the door. “This conversation is over. Good-bye.”
“As a sign of my good faith, I’ll hold off on reporting my failure with the human, but do make sure the other female Huntsman finds her way to Lucas.” Gina’s words came out in a rush, desperation fueling them.
Tegan couldn’t stop her smirk. Apparently, feeding the gluttonous needs of the strongest sex demon had taken its toll. “Will you now?”
Gina glared at her. “Yes, but do not betray my trust, Hunter. I am not an enemy you want to have.”
With her threat given, Gina stormed off. Tegan closed her eyes and took a calming breath. She hated the constant manipulation and backstabbing that came with a visit to Hell. All of its inhabitants, except Arawn and sometimes Minerva, despised and envied the Huntsmen. They were the only ones from the Underworld with the ability to walk among humans. Any mates they took would too.
Tegan pushed aside the worry over the demons and focused on the problem at hand. The male she’d lusted over for the past three years waited for her beyond the door. Real, alive, and capable of finishing what he’d teased her with every time they connected. She swallowed past the surge of lust and dropped her forehead to the metal door.
I am nothing but a fantasy to him. He left me each time and welcomed Cynthia into his arms.
The truth hurt. Reality often did.
Bjorn had told her he loved her. He’d told her he lived his life honorably. He’d told her he wanted to be a Huntsman so he too could protect the mortals.
He’d told her a bunch of lies. And she’d believed every one.
Arawn had filled her in on the facts Bjorn had kept hidden from her. In order to become a rider in the Wild Hunt, Arawn had to touch Bjorn’s mind and soul to judge his integrity. Bjorn had failed the test. He had several consorts and dozens of children in various villages. He hadn’t loved Tegan nor had he wanted to avenge the humans. He’d wanted immortality.
He found death.
Ian is not Bjorn, and he’s already a rider, honorable and strong.
Tegan knew the facts. She understood that as a human, Ian wouldn’t have suspected she was more than his imagination. Her mind held the explanation at the forefront. Her heart didn’t want to believe it.
He’d worshipped her body and made her feel as if she were the only one who mattered. Like Bjorn, though, it’d been lust, not love.
Then lust was what Ian would get from her, nothing more. Love was a worthless emotion anyway. It didn’t guarantee anything, certainly not fidelity or even the return of her devotion.
She took a shaky breath and buried the longing for Ian deep. A Hunter had no room for the weakness love brought. Duty. That was all that mattered.
With her hand on the doorknob, she listened. Ian’s agitated groans had stopped, but his rough pants hadn’t. It was the same reaction he’d had the last time she’d visited. She waited for him to speak. Craved it. Minutes ticked by. He remained silent.
She pushed the door open. His scent hit her, and she swayed under its intensity. Cinnamon. She’d never cared for the fragrance before. Not until Ian walked into her dreams.
“Angel.”
The word came out garbled. It caressed her anyway. So too did the knowledge that he recognized her, that she could reach him when nobody else could. Happiness whipped through her and mixed with the desire she held for him.
Her skin tingled in awareness. Arousal flowed, soaking the thong she wore. She couldn’t stop the reaction if she tried. In the face of three long, sinful years on the receiving end of Ian’s seduction, her body reacted exactly as he’d trained it.
Would his?
She peered into the room. The dim light left his bed in shadows. From where she stood, she could see the outline of his large body restrained to the bed, but not the details that would captivate her upon first sight. Tegan didn’t need them. She knew exactly what he looked like and what his body felt like under her palms.
“Come to torture me?”
His low, gravelly words hit her with the same force as a slap in the face. She peered in the direction of his voice and caught a glimpse of his hazel eyes. She turned away before the multitude of brown and green hues mesmerized her.
She closed the door without answering. The clank echoed in the rock-walled room.
He inhaled loud enough for her to hear. “You have. Don’t care. Come closer.”
Her feet moved of their own accord in response to his command. She locked her knees after a few steps. “Why? Do you plan on breaking my nose too?”
“Warned her”—he cleared his throat—“not to touch.”
The elation she’d experienced a moment ago fizzled. Jealousy replaced it over the fact that Gina had been able to reach him en
ough he’d been able to speak to her too.
“Maybe you didn’t phrase your warning clearly enough. The sex demons think of little else when they’re hungry.”
“I growled.”
The tightness in her chest eased with his answer. Ian hadn’t spoken to the demon. Tegan grinned and approached his bed, careful to stay out of his line of sight.
He yanked on his bindings. The metal links on his cuffs rattled, and the bed frame groaned. He wouldn’t be able to escape. The cell he occupied had been created specifically for Arawn’s children. Ian wasn’t the first Huntsman to occupy it. After Bjorn died, she’d spent time inside its walls too.
Ian craned his neck to see her. She backed up. A low, rumbly sound crawled up his throat. “Don’t walk away. Come. Here.”
Unable to delay any longer, she went to him. At the head of his bed, she stopped and skimmed her gaze over him. The thick cock tenting his sleep shorts deserved her attention. She would’ve been happy to let the evidence of his desire captivate her, but the details she’d failed to notice the last time she’d peeked into his cell enraged her.
A sheen of sweat and grime covered his body.
Arawn hadn’t even bothered to send his servants in to tend to Ian before chaining him. She curled her fists and fought the primitive response choking her. She wanted to find her sire and let him know exactly what she thought of Ian’s treatment. It wouldn’t do any good. Her father wouldn’t see anything wrong with it. Linked to the power of the Hunt, Ian was immortal. A little dirt wouldn’t hurt him.
She let the other aspects of Ian’s body soothe her displeasure. It wasn’t hard using him to redirect her thoughts. Ian had the physique of a warrior or maybe a god. The muscle packed on his tall frame hinted at the power he held within. As a human, he would’ve bested his peers. With the strength of the Hunt behind him, he could take on any immortal, including Arawn.
As much as she hated to admit it, her father was right to be cautious where Ian was concerned. He could not remain tied to their Teulu if he couldn’t control himself. The risk to the humans outweighed the consequence of casting him out. She refused to allow it to come to that. Ian would not be forsaken, nor would he succumb to his rage again. She’d make sure of it.
She spun on her heel and strode across the room.
“Abandoning me again?”
Tegan froze with her hand on a basin of water. “No.”
He snorted.
She ignored his disbelief and retrieved a washrag. Both items she carried to the bed. She set them on the floor, dipped the cloth and wrung it out.
“Look at me.”
The roughness of his voice had eased. Relief swept over her. She was glad he could focus on her and not his rage, but she knew better than to think he’d regained control. Then again, he didn’t know how to keep his anger in check. Calan had dropped him into the role of Hunter without any guidance. If she hadn’t known the circumstances surrounding her elder brother’s decision to make Ian a Huntsman, she’d be livid with her leader.
Calan had needed his siblings’ help, but they’d all been confined to the fairy prison. Ian had stepped into the position of Hunter and fought to protect the mortals with everything he had, even to the point of killing the love of his life. His fiancée, Cynthia, had been turned into a sluagh, a servant of the fairies and a walking corpse. Ian had freed her soul by taking her head. Minutes later, however, he’d given in to the all-consuming rage that had landed him in Hell.
She pushed thoughts of the pretty blonde human out before the jealousy that had kept her in the living room of the Huntsmen’s estate kicked in. The truth she’d come to terms with was one she couldn’t ignore. The connection Tegan and Ian shared hadn’t meant the same to him as it had to her. He’d had a life outside of their occasional encounters. She’d been a fantasy to him. Nothing more. Dammit, she couldn’t blame him. It didn’t mean the knowledge hurt any less.
Tegan knelt on the bed next to his bare feet. A metal cuff locked each ankle to the corners of the footboard. Although tempted to release one leg, she resisted. He appeared to be in control. It didn’t mean he’d stay that way. He could slip back into the madness within seconds. She didn’t want to be the one to restrain him if he did.
“I said, look at me.”
And get lost in his eyes? Not happening.
Tegan shook her head and dragged the wet rag over his calf. He sucked in a rough breath. She smiled. “Looking at you isn’t necessary, human. I’m here to tend to your needs, nothing more.”
“That so?”
Lust made his voice thick, rich, and tempting. She swallowed past the surge of desire. “Yes.”
“Then I need you to look at me.”
She forced herself to continuing cleaning his legs. “Why?”
“To convince myself I’m not dreaming. That you’re really here.”
She worked her way to his sleep shorts. The dark blue material looked good against his tanned skin. He’d look even better with them off. The idea took hold. The opportunity to finally see the cock she’d stroked countless times quickened her pulse. They’d never been able to remove their clothes or bring each other to release. Their visits had been a tease only.
No longer were they restricted to a fantasy encounter. She could touch him. The compulsion became one she couldn’t ignore. Not even the sadness that had grown over the past week dimmed it. She slid her hand under the edge of his shorts. His erection stood taller, pushing up the fabric.
“Oh, I can convince you of that easily.” She inched her fingers closer to his groin.
“Stop.”
She did and barely kept herself from cringing. Had she misread everything?
No. No, he wanted her. Even Rhys had noticed his interest. Was it for her, though? Or simply the fact that she was an aroused woman and Ian was acting on his baser needs? She bit the inside of her cheek to stop her groan of frustration.
She shouldn’t go there. Focusing on helping him was all that mattered at the moment. Nothing else.
She brushed her thumb over the edge of his shorts. “We both know this is what you need, a distraction. Something to focus on instead of your anger.”
“You’re damn right it is, but—”
“Good.” She cut him off before he could tack on a qualifier that cut at her heart, then stroked along the root of his erection. “Then let me give it to you.”
She yanked her hand back and grabbed the waistband of his shorts.
“Name.” He panted. “Tell me.”
With her fingers curled around the elastic, she stared at his thick thighs. She thought about denying him. What was the point? He’d find out soon.
“Tegan.”
“Tegan,” he repeated.
Her name spoken in his deep voice sent shivers down her spine. She closed her eyes and let herself pretend for just a moment they were in her bed, wrapped in each other’s arms.
“Look at me.”
His command one she couldn’t resist, she glanced into his face. His hazel eyes captured hers. Hunger and longing shone in them. They ensnared and mesmerized her. Her heartbeat raced, and she felt herself fall into the promise they offered—uncontained passion and devotion, everything she’d always wanted but could never find. She couldn’t have broken his focused gaze if she tried. It was as if he knew what she desired most and would give it to her.
“Am I dreaming, Tegan?”
He recognized her.
Does that mean he’ll want…? She cut off the thought before it could form. Her visit wasn’t about her. Ian. It was about Ian. Helping him regain his footing.
She forced herself to turn away. It took more effort than she’d like to admit. “No, not dreaming.”
He let out a shaky breath. She ignored the sound and refocused on her task. Carefully, she tugged down his shorts. The way his legs were spread prevented her from taking them off. The waistband ended up below his balls. No matter, his cock sprang free. It was all she needed.
His sh
aft stood tall and straight, begging for her attention. She gave it to him, lovingly cleaning his erection with the moistened rag. His groans encouraged her. She slowed her gentle swipes and massaged his balls.
“Tegan.”
Awe. That was what she heard in his voice. It fueled her and pushed her hungers higher. She glanced at his face, needing the confirmation in his expression. He didn’t hide his reverence. His gaze mapped her face with a mixture of longing and desire.
“Fist my cock.”
Spoken in the barest of whispers, his command slammed into her. Denial wasn’t an option. She tossed the wet cloth and focused on his cock. Precum slickened the tip. Her mouth watered for a taste of him. She stroked him, root to head. The silken-steel rod slid through her loose grip. She tightened her hold on his penis and pumped him once, then twice more.
“Aw fuck,” he grunted. More of his essence welled at the slit.
Tegan bent closer, craving the salty, rich taste of him on her tongue.
“That’s it. Suck it.”
She brushed her closed mouth along his length. The head of his dick pushed against her lips. His scent, his taste, and the smoothness of his skin entranced her. She flicked her tongue out and captured a drop of heaven.
“More, Tegan.”
She wanted the same. Everything he could give her. Tegan licked his veined length, circling the ridge of his erection with the tip of her tongue.
He lifted his ass, pushing his cock closer. His manacles clanked against the bed frame. The reminder of their positions hit her. Ian was chained to the bed.
Aroused and at her mercy.
Desire gripped her. Her womb clenched with the possibilities of what that implied. She could straddle him, push her thong to the side, and take his cock inside her achy body. Ride him. Tease him. Fuck him hard until he exploded.
Her breath escaped in a rush. Wetness flooded her core. She wanted to make her fantasy a reality. If he’d willingly allowed her to restrain him, she would’ve impaled herself on him in a heartbeat. He hadn’t, though. He’d been chained because he couldn’t control his rage.
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