Daemon Grudge

by Stacey Brutger

  She twisted to get a better view of her back in the mirror. A few minor bruises marred her back, while blood was already crusting along the edges of the cut. The wound gaped open, curving from right under her arm down to her kidney.

  She turned on the faucet just when the door to the apartment crashed open and a vicious growl reverberated in the air. She jumped when door to her room splintered, sending shards of wood scattering everywhere.

  Atticus stood in her room, his chest heaving, only it wasn’t the Atticus she knew.

  Pure wolf glared back at her, his red eyes raking her from head to foot. His nose flared as he caught scent of her blood, a snarl twisting his face as he stalked toward her.

  Octavia automatically grabbed for a weapon that wasn’t there, then realized she was trapped in a bathroom half naked and unarmed. She quickly snatched up a towel to cover herself, unconsciously twisting it in case she needed to use it as weapon—and froze when he snarled.

  One clawed hand reached out to her, snagging the towel and ripping it away.

  Leaving her once again half naked.

  He leaned closer, practically burying his nose in her neck, a low grumble in his throat. Her pulse pounded so hard, she could hardly hear anything over the whooshing sound…until he spoke one guttural word.

  “Mine.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Atticus

  It was all Atticus could do not to set his teeth in her neck and claim her. He breathed in her lilac smell, his fangs aching, his cock so hard it felt like his pants were trying to strangle him.

  Then the scent of blood hit him, and the haze of possessiveness and lust lifted enough for his brain to start functioning again.

  He pulled back, his wolf fighting him for every inch. The best he could manage was to straighten to his full height.

  Walking away was impossible.

  “Turn.” He curled his hands into fists, his claws piercing his palms, the pain helping to keep him focused and his mitts off her.

  Her hair brushed the delicious tops of her breasts, the blonde highlights luring him to sink his fingers into the wild strands, yank her head back and kiss the fuck out of her. The only thing stopping him was her big blue eyes gazing up at him.

  He was a beast.

  An animal.

  But he couldn’t bear it if the wary trust in her eyes turned to horror or distaste. If he made a move on her and she ran, he couldn’t guarantee that his beast wouldn’t hunt her down and take what it so desperately wanted.

  Atticus breathed through his mouth, trying not take in any more of her scent, and gingerly touched her shoulder, turning her, needing to inspect her injury. It tore him up that she was hurt on his watch, that he hadn’t been there to protect her.

  Though the hallway had been burned clean of any scent of her attackers, tiny specks of her blood lingered in the elevator, something only a Lycoan could sense. The short ride, trapped with the scent of her blood, had tortured his beast, and he’d lost his shit, trying to claw his way out of the doors to get to her.

  Octavia watched him with careful eyes, then turned slowly. His breath hitched at the trust she placed in him by showing him her vulnerable neck. Unable to keep from touching her when she was this close, he trailed a finger down her back, careful to keep his claws from marring her perfect flesh.

  It was enough to appease the creature lurking under his skin…for now.

  Then he saw the deep, brutal cut that split open her flesh, fresh blood still leaking from the injury, and lost his shit again, his beast surging forward and wrenching control from him. The flat of his hand settled in the middle of her back, shoving her forward and pinning her to the outer shower wall while he leaned closer and probed her injury.

  The girl cursed, braced her hands against the shower wall, but thankfully didn’t try to leave. He wasn’t sure how well he could contain his wolf if she tried to fight him, and he’d never forgive himself if he hurt her.

  He leaned closer to her wound, taking a deep breath, and relaxed at what he found. “No poison.”

  The words were garbled as he spoke around his fangs.

  “It’s a shallow wound.” Her voice was a whispered murmur, a caress that eased back his beast a fraction, the killing rage lessening now that he could see for himself that her injury wasn’t life-threatening.

  His wolf grumbled and Atticus agreed…the cut was shallow only because her ribs stopped the blade from digging deeper. When he found out who touched her—and he would—they were dead. Only when Octavia arched under his hold did he realize his claws were prickling her back, not enough to bleed, but enough to leave an impression.

  He leaned forward, unable to stop the need to crowd her. “Heal.”

  He spoke the command gruffly.

  The girl gave a snort of laughter. “Yeah, if I knew how, I would’ve done it before you arrived, big guy, and avoided all this.”

  A grunt escaped him. Unable to help himself, he wrapped one arm around her, resting his hand possessively across her stomach, nearly spanning her waist from side to side. She was so tiny. She had no business being here or fighting in the war that was yet to come. She should be home, safe and protected. Instead, she had been ripped apart by daemons because he failed to do his fucking job.

  He gritted his teeth against those thoughts, part of him knowing she was more than capable of taking care of herself.

  It didn’t help.

  He swallowed down his growl and vowed that it would never happen again.

  He was never going to let her out of his sight again.

  The cool glass of the shower did little to ease the heat of having the wolf practically breathing down her neck. He was all growly and snarly, and she must be sick, because she fucking loved it. His hand pressed against her stomach, and it was all she could do not to squirm and demand that he slide it lower.

  “Everyone learns how to use their abilities differently. Some abilities are tied to our emotions and run hot, while others learn to control their abilities out of pure stubbornness and turn ice cold.” His whisper skated along her skin like a caress.

  Stupid fucking magic.

  It messed with her mind.

  Worse…she was starting not to give a fuck.

  The thought of being separated from the guys was a physical ache. She craved their touch and wasn’t sure the why of it mattered anymore. She should feel terror at being held captive by Atticus, it was her nightmare come to life…yet she loved his nearness.

  “My abilities seemed triggered by instinct and are often accompanied by warmth.” Octavia pressed her forehead against the glass, determined to focus on the pain and not the man who held her so tenderly within his claws.

  “Both methods have their drawbacks. Those who run cold need to lock away their emotions in order to function, while people like us need to let them run free.” His thumb brushed against her ribs, inching farther and farther up under her bra with each swipe.

  She released a shaky breath, trying her damnedest to focus on his voice and not what he was doing with her body. “Show me.”

  His palms pressed hard against her abdomen. “Focus all your emotions here…the rage, the pain, the frustration, the joy…the pleasure. Don’t hide from them, or it will lock your abilities. Just feel.”

  It was hard to let go, hard to cede control.

  “Make your intention clear…that you want to heal.” The hand at her back lifted, his fingers skimming up her spine, chasing the goose bumps along her skin.

  It took everything in her to feel the lust, but not let it consume her. She focused on the swirling emotions, but not studying them or analyzing them to death, and warmth began to rise from her bones in a searing wave.

  Cinders swarmed under her skin, static crackling almost painfully, and she sucked in a harsh breath as it forked its way toward the wounds along her ribs. Heat bathed the gaping cut, slowly stitching the edges back together.

  She grunted as the heat followed the arc of the wound, and she pressed
herself against the cool glass, seeking relief.

  Then it was gone, leaving her wrung out and struggling to remain on her feet.

  Sharp claws dragged across her shoulders, and her bra straps snapped and sagged. Even as she grabbed for it, he severed the other strap, and her bra dropped to the floor. When the claw dipped into the waistband of her pants, she quickly grabbed Atticus’s hand. “I don’t have any clothes to spare.”

  After a slight hesitation, he slid his knee between her legs to hold her steady and reached around her to unbutton her jeans, slowly pulling down the zipper. In less than a breath, she was naked, with him kneeling at her feet behind her.

  He reached into the shower and turned on the faucet, testing the temperature until he was satisfied. Instead of shoving her inside, he went in first, pulling her along, only satisfied when the two of them were jammed in the tiny space. Water immediately molded his clothes to his body, and she pursed her lips and gave a hum of approval, completely distracted by the sight of all those muscles on display…and he wasn’t even naked.

  “We need to get the blood off you.” He reached up and adjusted the spray so it was focused on her, the slap of water splashing her face snapping her out of imagining what he would look like naked. “It’s the only way my wolf is going to calm down.”

  He gave her a lopsided smile in apology, water sparkling in his hair. On a mission now, he grabbed the soap and proceeded to wash every inch of her. The heat of the shower lowered her inhibitions, and she allowed him to do whatever he wanted. Her body enjoyed his attention, but it soon became apparent that he was touching her for one reason…he was inspecting her for other injuries.

  Oh, he was enjoying the duty, but the attraction was a distraction, an afterthought, his whole being focused on her well-being. She fought against the desire, struggling to remain still under his ministrations…reminding herself this wasn’t sexual to him.

  But when she saw the erection in his jeans, she amended that thought…not completely sexual.

  Suds and blood ran down the drain. Seconds passed into minutes and he worshiped every inch of her, leaving nothing untouched. When he stood in front of her, her breasts nearly brushing his chest, the red in his eyes was completely gone.

  When his gaze slowly roved over her, his breathing became ragged. His eyes met hers, hunger darkening them, and his chest heaved almost erratically. He leaned closer, and her heart thudded against her ribs. She pressed her hands against his chest, so hungry for the taste of him that she found herself leaning forward—

  —only for him to reach past her, push open the door, and shove her completely out of the shower. She sputtered as cold air hit her naked body, and she watched in shock when he slammed the door between them shut, turned the faucet to cold, then tipped his head back and closed his eyes, as if she wasn’t standing in front of him naked and hungry to taste every inch of him.

  She felt like a kid looking in the window of a toy shop at Christmastime.

  More than a little flustered, she glanced around the bathroom as she tried to process his rejection. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it securely around her, then grabbed another to wrap up her hair, trying not to pout.

  With one last look at the shower and the sexy beast of a man beneath the spray, she went to her bedroom, knowing the sight of him would stay with her for a long time to come.

  She dressed quickly, ignoring the demands of her body.

  As much as she hated to admit it, Atticus was right to kick her out.

  Unless she was ready to commit to him, she had no right to take things further. If he was anyone else, she would’ve taken the chance and enjoyed herself, but his wolf had staked his claim. If they fucked, she suspected it would be permanent for him.

  As she pulled on her pants and tugged her shirt over her head, she heard the shower turn off. She froze, then found herself shooting out the door, anxious to put space between them.

  She glanced around the apartment, the walls seeming to shrink in on her. She hurried to the kitchen, wrenched open the door to the fridge, and shoved her head inside to avoid facing Atticus, cursing there was nowhere for her to retreat and wrap her mind around what happened…or more precisely, what didn’t happen.

  Because the desire he stirred had not faded one bit. Restlessness moved under her skin, the need for a good fuck like an itch she couldn’t quite reach.

  Atticus’s steps were almost silent when he strode across the apartment to get to his room. Despite her best intentions, she couldn’t help straightening a little to steal another look. Her breath stuttered when she spied him over the top of the door wearing a towel dangerously low on his hips, his wet clothes in his hands…the rest of him completely fucking naked.

  The chill of the fridge stung her overheated cheeks but did nothing to ease her libido. She pushed up on tiptoe to steal one last look over the top of the door before he moved out of range, sighing in pleasure at the sight of all those muscles—until the door to his room rudely blocked him from view.

  So worth the peek.

  “We’ll need to burn your shirt before the rest of the guys get home.” It wasn’t more than a minute when Atticus emerged from his room, fully dressed, and she couldn’t disguise her sigh of disappointment.

  He joined her in the kitchen, then nudged her aside and began pulling items out of the fridge as if nothing had happened. She couldn’t help but feel a bit miffed. When she would’ve stalked away, he reached over and grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward him until only inches separated them.

  His green eyes were dark as he gazed down at her. “When we get together, it won’t be because of the aftereffects of an injury or you coming off the rush of using your abilities. When I touch you, I want it to be because you can’t resist me.”

  Then he leaned down, closing the distance between them, his lips stopping just shy of hers. “When you come to my bed, it’ll be because you came to me, not because I seduced you.”

  When he pulled away, she nearly groaned, struggling not to melt into a puddle at his feet. She wanted to pull him back down and demand the kiss that hovered just on his lips.

  It took all her willpower to remain rooted to the spot, afraid that if she moved, she would crack. As he puttered around the kitchen, she narrowed her eyes, glaring at him for being so unaffected.

  Too unaffected.

  The ass was toying with her.

  Or…flirting with her?

  She wasn’t completely sure. She never had the time to flirt with anyone before.

  As she stalked back into her room, she shook her head at her own foolishness. She should be focusing on the mission and a way to bring down Kronos without causing a war.

  She wouldn’t find any answers by sticking her hands down anyone’s pants.

  She snatched up the lighter from her bag and entered the bathroom, grabbed the metal garbage can with her bloody shirt inside, and set it in the shower stall. After two tries for the flames to catch, she watched it burn to ash, then rinsed the remains down the drain.

  When she walked out of her room, she saw Atticus had food on the counter and candles burning.

  Noticing her hovering in the doorway, he gave her a lopsided smile. “To disguise the smell. Given enough time, they won’t notice the scent—”

  The door opened and Atticus whirled, partially shifting, and roared in challenge.

  Keegan, Nikos and Warrick charged into the room, weapons drawn, the heat of their abilities whirling in the cramped space. They scanned the apartment, wilting a little when they saw no enemy, then stared at her and Atticus with varying shades of suspicion.

  Only when Atticus stood down did the rest of the men reluctantly tuck away their weapons.

  The guys looked like hell.

  Their hair was mussed, massive bruises darkened their bodies, while their clothes were ripped and bloodied. But they were alive and whole. All the anger that lingered at being left behind vanished now that they were back safe.

  She scanned them again to r
eassure herself they were in one piece, then shook her head at her foolishness, took her seat in front of the food, and smirked at Atticus as she lifted her sandwich. “I guess they could’ve used our help after all.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nikos

  Tension fell away from the guys at her snark.

  Keegan eased the door shut, dropping their bags by the entrance. Nikos rubbed the back of his neck, then staggered toward the kitchen and took a seat next to her, leaning against her shoulder like a large cat seeking attention.

  Octavia stilled, waiting for the trick. When none came, concern soured her good mood. She grabbed a napkin, set half of her sandwich on it, and slid it over to him.

  He stared at the food for a moment, then picked it up, watching her over the top while he ate. The contact felt too intimate, and she tore her eyes away from him to see Warrick lift his head and sniff the air.

  His scrutiny slid over her, freezing when he spotted the ruined doorway of her room for nearly a full minute before his gaze swung to land on Atticus accusingly. “What the hell happened?”

  Octavia sighed, her earlier amusement fading, exhaustion settling in like a lead blanket. “I got into a small scuffle.”

  She pushed away her plate, only to have Atticus push it back at her. “Eat.”

  He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, glowering at her until she picked up the sandwich and took a bite.

  When her mouth was full, Atticus faced Keegan and Warrick, resting his hip against the counter. “I was pulled aside and assigned another hunt for tomorrow. I should’ve secured her first.”

  “Do you suspect the attack was planned?” Keegan came toward her, lifted her chin and scanned her face, seemingly satisfied by what he saw, then looked at Nikos over her shoulder. “You should check her for injuries.”

  She thought back to the fight, but clearly remembered the surprise on Chuck’s face when he turned the corner. “Not planned…not unless they were manipulated.”