by T. J. Batts
He stiffened, and not in the way I wanted, before closing his eyes, taking a deep breath then swallowing so hard I could hear it.
Before I could move, or even register it, his large hand wrapped threateningly around my neck.
His face was inches from mine. Eyes more red than purple. Fangs bared on a low snarl.
“What are you?” he hissed. His voice was dangerously low. He wasn’t applying that much pressure to my neck, but I knew better than to give him the chance to rip my head off by resisting.
“I—” I closed my mouth and tried to swallow beneath his grasp. “What do you mean?” My hand remained on his neck and I pushed a whole lot of “calm the fuck down” into my fingertips and hoped it would keep him from going berserk.
He bared his teeth again. This time rising from his stool and pressing threatening at my throat, his grip lifting me to my tip toes. “Don’t play, Delilah.” He shook me with his other hand hard and raised me higher into the air. His eyes were full on red now and my SpellBinder instincts were shifting into defense mode.“What the fuck are you?” he repeated.
I closed my eyes, breathed deeply and summoned my inner witch, because this was about to get ugly.
Chapter 6:
Spencer
I stumbled back, falling onto my stool as a force hit me hard in the chest.
Delilah, whatever she was, didn’t fall back to the ground once I let go on my hold of her neck. She floated.
“What the fuck are you—” she cocked her head to side as her feet gently touched down to the ground. “—Spencer?” Her eyes flashed a brilliant green. Brighter than I’d ever seen them before.
I growled involuntarily at the alien move, than tried to lunge at her. She flicked her wrist and I couldn’t move from my seat. The more I struggled, the more constrained I felt.
Fuckin’ witch slut. I thought the offensive epithet.
“SpellBinder,” I spat.
She smiled slowly, walking towards me. Her fingers brushed my knee, the warmth of the magic seeping through, and making me squirm. “At—” Her hand came up to my thigh. “Your—” Her finger dipped down to my inner thigh and rose higher. “Service,” She whispered in my ear as she traced her hand over my cock, which was now growing erect at her touch.
I couldn't move. She had me trapped in some weird SpellBinder mojo.
My chest pumped like bellows with anger.
She stepped in between my legs pushing her breasts against my chest before her tongue flicked out and licked my ear. Then she bit me and I groaned. My cock itched to be touched and my traitorous hand reached up and traced over her bottom in her red dress.
She flinched at my touch, surprise washing over her.
I tried to reach for her throat with my other hand, but it wouldn't move. I struggled and growled again.
She pulled back and smiled at me.
“The spell won’t let you hurt me, Spencer.” She arched back her ass pressing hard against my palm that rested there. “It’s specifically designed just for pleasure.”
She was obviously a powerful Spellbinder. A fact that seemed to turn me on as I couldn't stop my hand from squeezing her ass.
I was pissed as hell, but I couldn’t help enjoying the look of pleasure on her face.
I watched her for a moment, breathing deeply. Trying to calm down. Relaxing under the influence of her spell.
I couldn’t believe Delilah was a fucking SpellBinder.
I couldn’t believe she was doing this, with me of all people.
“You know what I am?” I said simply. I looked up at her. I deliberately let my fangs show.
She sighed and took a step back. “Yes,” she said, then as if she thought more seriously about my species, took another step back.
I sat up straight watching her. Then, to test her spell, made a mock lunge towards her.
She glided back, floating unnaturally.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Delilah,” I said.
“You say that now, NightDweller,” she said pointedly rubbing her neck.
My eyes flicked to her neck. “Sorry,” I forced out. I licked my lips because my mouth was watering at the sight of her neck, and the sound of her elevated pulse.
“You don’t sound sorry,” she said taking a tentative step forward.
“Don’t I?” My eyes dropped to her breasts.
I should leave. I should walk out. This is not a good idea.
“Not at all,” she said stepping in front of me again. Her voice was breathy.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked. This was dangerous. Stupid.
“Hmmm?” she said slipping her hand back into my hair. I swallowed hard trying to resist putting my hands on her again.
She leaned into me and I let my face drop to her chest. I traced my tongue, then a fang, over the edge where her breasts met the fabric of her dress.
This was fucking stupid, but I couldn’t stop myself. I guess now I knew why our races stayed away from each other.
She was a flame and I was a fucking moth.
Chapter 7:
Delilah
His tongue was a flame licking deliciously, dangerously at my skin and I went willingly towards the burn.
I moaned as his fang raked against my skin and gripped his neck tighter. Lust blasted from me, my succubus side using my witch half to express her desires.
He pulled his head back from my chest and looked up at me over his glasses.
“Why?” he asked simply. “You do know what we risk when NightDwellers and SpellBinders—” His eyes dropped to my chest again then he swallowed. “—mix, don’t you?”
His hand touched the back of my thigh gently and pushed my dress up over my hips before I could answer.
“Exquisite pleasure,” I breathed, choosing to only acknowledge part of our lore.
His hand gripped my hip in a bruising hold and I looked down at him.
“And permanent binding, Delilah,” he said watching my face seriously as he revealed the other part of the lore.
“If we’re not careful,” I sighed leaning down to kiss him.
I traced my lips against his. He didn’t respond, so I ran my tongue over his fangs before pulling back.
“Why are you doing this?” His voice was cold, but the purple ting of his eyes and the way his hand gentled against my hip told me he was considering taking the risk.
I leaned my chest towards him at the same time as I applied a gentle pressure to his neck, pushing his face towards my breasts. “Because my succubus side is dying for a play-date.”
He hand shifted on my waist and shook me slightly.
“Seriously, Delilah?” His eyes were still purple, but the look on his face told me he was puzzled by the whole situation. “Why risk it? Why me?”
I pressed into his neck again, using my magic to will him to do what I wanted, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled it from him.
“Answer me,” he said. “Truthfully,” he added.
“This is the truth,” I said testing him.
He sniffed the air tentatively and eyed my speculatively. “Only part of it. What’s the other part?”
Should I tell him? Did I need to?
He was full on NightDweller now, he’d probably figure out the emotion I had from him, the emotion I tried to keep buried. The emotion I often masked with magic, amber body spray and apple lollipops.
I looked into his brown eyes and sighed defeatedly, my body moving closer to his.
“Because I want you, Spencer” I admitted weakly.
Something flared in his eyes and his lips tightened. He looked away from me, dropping my hand from his grasp. I thought I sensed anger building in him, but I couldn’t imagine why he’d be mad about me admitting my feelings towards him.
“Did you want Samuel too?” he said between clenched teeth.
“Samuel?” My face wrinkled with confusion and I pulled back from him. “What does Samuel have to do with this?”
Spencer looked at me again. A muscle ticking rapidly i
n his strong jaw. “Did you want Samuel?” he said pushing my hand from his knee and pushing his stool back away from me. “Have you fucked him, Delilah?” he spat. “Because I don’t want leftovers.”
I flinched back from him, stung. My eyes widened with shock at his words, then narrowed with anger.
I felt the magic building in my fingertips again, but before I could stop myself, I raised my hand and slapped the face that had filled my fantasies for so long.
“You fucking bastard!” I swung again, but he caught my hand. “How dare you?” I tried to punch him in the stomach with my other hand and he deflected the hit before grabbing my wrist. I tried knee him, but the bastard swung me around, using my own momentum to twist me and pin me back against him. My arms were locked across my chest, still in his grasp.
I struggled and puffed and called him the worse names I could think of, a few in Portuguese.
I was too outraged to channel my magic. I could hear small objects rattling around me as my magic pulse without an outlet.
“Have you?!” His voice cut through my rage. He smelled of anger again. His breath was hot against my ear. Then he caught it in a fang before he shook me roughly, my head bounced against his hard chest. My teeth chattered shut and I stopped hurling curses at him, but that was my only concession to the moment.
How could he think I would sleep with Samuel. I knew my succubus side got a bad rap because of human lore, but I’d think a NightDweller would know better.
“No,” I gritted. “Let me go.” My voice was low and deadly as I tried to calm my anger long enough to work a spell.
I felt his arms loosen slightly against me, but when I struggled I couldn’t break free.
“You’ve never had sex with Samuel?” he repeated, not letting me go.
“No, Spencer!” I screeched, struggling hard against him, the rattling in the room increasing. He let me go and took a step back as I swung around to face him.
“How dare you?” I spat taking a step toward him, my fists clenching at my sides. They pulsed with magic, but, uncontrolled, it wouldn’t be enough to contain him again. “Are you so much of an insecure asshole that a woman can’t come on to you without you assuming she does it to everyone?”
His eyes widened, then he opened his mouth to respond.
I threw my hand up to stop him putting a little magic behind it. “Fuckin’ save it, Spencer. You obviously aren’t the guy I thought you were.” I snatched up my bag and he jumped back, probably thinking I meant to hit him again.
I stormed toward the door, but stopped in my tracks and took a deep breath. Then another. The rattling in the room subsided, but I didn’t intend to waste my magic on him, not now anyway. I’d tap a few times on his car when I left the studio in order to kill his engine, or magically key “insecure asshole” on both sides of his Mustang, so that everyone but him could see it.
“The only thing between me and Samuel is friendship.” I turned my head towards him, but couldn’t bring myself to look at him. “He’s not even really sick. He helped me set this —” I waved my hand to encompass the room. “—up. Helped me get up the nerve to—” I sighed and turned to look at him. I didn’t speak. I just looked at his tall, lean frame, beautiful face, which was now fully human, then turned back around and continued my walk towards the door.
Fuck it. I wouldn’t do this.
I couldn’t believe what I’d been willing to risk for him. The little crush I had on Spencer, the one that was seriously fading after what just happened, now didn’t seem worth tempting permanent bidding.
Stuck with him as my mate, the only person I could be with, the only person my body wanted, for the rest of my unnaturally long life? What the hell was I thinking?
I was seriously tripping.
When I placed my hand on the knob, I felt his hand land on my shoulder.
As much as I wanted to storm out, to leave him, to forget him, or magically castrate him for even assuming I’d slept with Samuel, that I did this on a regular, his hand on my shoulder stopped me. Because, more than anything, I wanted Spencer. No matter how many lies I tried to tell myself.
“The nerve to what?” he asked softly. His hand traced up my shoulder, tucked under my hair and massaged the base of my neck. His masculine scent subtle, but starting a steady climb towards dangerously enticing.
Did all NightDwellers smell this good?
“Forget it,” I gritted out trying not to slip into the pleasure of the touch that I’d wanted to feel for so long.
“Tell me.” His other hand grazed over my hip, then around and up my stomach. “The nerve to what?” he whispered into my ear, before sliding that damned fang over the lobe.
I wanted to smack him for teasing me.
“Fuck you, Spencer.” I tried to say it as an insult, but the way it slipped breathlessly from my lips, it revealed exactly what I’d been trying to build my nerve to do.
He stilled a moment then leaned into me. “Was that an insult or a compliment?” I could hear and smell the amusement in his voice and it pissed me off.
I had a Silva woman temper.
I whirled around and the twinkle in his eyes confirmed my suspicion. They twinkled with amusement, but were now purple again with lust.
I narrowed my eyes at him, hoping it would deter him from laughing, but that adorable dimple appeared in his cheek. My heart fluttered as his perfect lips cracked into a smile. One complete with fangs.
“You’re an asshole.” I looked away, clenching my jaw and primping my lips to keep from smiling back at him.
To keep from jumping on him.
To keep from channeling every inch of magic I had within me to the task of stripping him naked. It should be a crime to cover all that gloriousness up.
He chuckled. “I am,” He admitted before chuckling again.
I smacked him in the stomach hard enough to hurt a human. It felt and sounded like I was knocking on a leather-cover cinderblock. He laughed again then took my chin into his hands and pulled me to face him.
“I’m sorry,” He said, giving me a serious expression. “I am an asshole.”
“You are,” I said plainly. He cracked a smile, but tilted his head, as if assessing me.
“And you want me?” he asked hesitantly. "Despite the risk?”
“That’s debatable now,” I said turning my head from his grasp. I couldn’t look at him. He was too close.
Too tempting.
My succubus side was reveling in what she considered to be inevitable. The sex of a lifetime.
He took a step towards me, I backed up into the door to avoid his touch. He took another step and deliberately pressed himself into me. The smell of his deep arousal blasted me a millisecond before his cock pressed into me.
I swallowed to contain my gasp. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to feeling him against me.
He was the guy I’d had a crush on since day one and the man I knew was an equal since day two.
“And you want me?” he repeated, his voice low as his head dipped, his cheek caressing my hair. His hand ran down my hip, around my thigh and began tracing slowly up the inside of my leg. I swallowed again.
“You want me badly.” Raw male arrogance dripped from his voice.
Why did he have to smell so amazing? So male?
I refused to give him the answer he wanted. I didn’t like being teased.
Spencer was usually so reserved around me and I usually reveled in making him uneasy. In getting a rise out out of him.
I didn’t like it when the shoe was on the other foot. And yet, part of me, a very select part of me, was loving it.
“No,” I said deliberately. I looked up at him. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his mouth parted, his breath shallow. His eyes were blazing plum-colored orbs and I felt mine brighten in response. “No, I don’t want you,” I lied. His hand moved deliberately up my leg and I ignored it. I tried to anyway. “I thought you were a nice guy, Spencer.” I tried to use my words to deny what my body was so obvio
usly telling him by the way his nostrils kept flaring. “But you’re obviously —” my words broke off into a moan as his fingers caressed my lace-covered mound.
I clamped my jaw together, shutting off words and moans. Rattling in the room started up again.
Because of my arousal? It was as if my magic responded to him. That had never happened before.
He pressed me gently, exploring the damp fabric. He shifted so his erection pressed against my hip.
“You don’t want me?” he asked in a deep tone as he fingered the edge of my panties. I gulped. I gave a clipped shake of my head.
I had to keep my pride. I had to keep my fucking pride. A Silva mantra roared in my head.
His fingers slipped past the edge of my underwear, found my slit and plunged deep. His long fingers sinking in so far I could feel his knuckles against my mound. I dropped my bag and threw my head back with a shrill lament.
“Shit, Delilah,” He breathed reverently and my knees buckled under the weight of my arousal and the adoration in his voice.
I tried to close my mouth to shut off the cry, but as his fingers moved within me, both my magic and inner demon were out of my control.
He grabbed the back of my head and pulled my mouth to his with some effort. His lips pressed against mine, then he let his hand at my neck fall to wrap around my back to hold me up as he fingered me. I couldn’t stifle my response to him. I gripped his face with both hands and kissed him fiercely as my hips rocked against his hand. I’d waited so long for this.
He kissed me back with reckless abandon, each thrust of his fingers getting firmer, harder and driving me closer to climax.
He pulled his hand from me suddenly and quickly lifted me from the floor and guided my legs to wrap around his waist. I moaned a protest at the loss of his fingers, but quickly turned my attention to grinding against the bulge in his pants.
I felt myself being leaned back and he pulled his mouth from mine long enough tell me to lay down.
I loosened my grip and allowed myself to lay back onto the bed in the studio. His lips were on mine again, his hands pulling my dress up over my hips. I gripped the edges of the fabric, then took my lips from his long enough to whip the thing over my head.