“She would never do that,” Solara replied, bristling. “Besides, it’s not as if you would let her go, is it?”
The hint of despair that colored her final words brought a chuckle to his lips. “No. She’s my best whore. And I have you to thank for that, don’t I?”
Her mouth tightened but she didn’t reply. What could she say? She couldn’t deny it.
When her chest rose and fell on her next breath, he let his gaze drift down to her breasts. “You’d better hope she returns soon. Because you know what will happen if she doesn’t.”
Solara glared at him even as her body responded to his allure. “Fuck you.”
“You begged me to do that once,” he reminded her. “As I recall, you would have killed for my touch.”
When her eyes closed and her limbs softened, he allowed the fingers of his free hand to nestle through the short curls between her thighs, finding her bud and stroking it. Hmm...it had been quite some time since he’d had her, and she’d always been an enthusiastic lay.
Solara made a growling sound deep in her throat and shoved his hand away, breaking free of his grip. “Don’t touch me. That was part of your agreement.”
“Indeed.” Fighting back the burst of anger her words elicited, he adjusted his erection through his slacks. “Don’t forget, she made an agreement, too. And if she’s broken her pact, mine falls as well.”
She said nothing in response, only glared at him, her chest heaving.
Asmodeus leaned in toward her, whispering into her ear. “I may have agreed not to touch you, for the time being at least, but I will never let you go, Solara. You are mine. From the moment you slid that band on your wrist, you belonged to me. I always keep what’s mine.”
He turned his back on her and headed for the door.
“What are you going to do?” she called.
Asmodeus didn’t bother to respond.
It would take some time, but with the band, the one she could never remove without his consent, it was possible to track her. If Amara had betrayed him, if she thought to run away when he needed her most, then both she and Solara would pay dearly.
This was one distraction he couldn’t afford, not if he was to appease Belpheg.
While part of Asmodeus wished he could tell the dark fae to go to hell, he knew he never would. Thanks to Belpheg, he no longer suffered hallucinations or the irrational fear that he would be hunted down the way he’d been in the past. The dark fae had had given him power he’d never dreamed of.
He would do anything to keep it.
§
Tiny rays of sunlight filtered in from the thick wall-to-wall shades Ronin had drawn over the windows before he’d left her in his room. Amara would like to blame her inability to sleep on that, but she couldn’t.
Staying here wasn’t an option. Not when that meant subjecting Solara to Asmodeus’s whim. He’d probably hold off a day or two, but he’d hurt her again, and not merely physical pain. Worse than that—he knew how to wound her heart. As strong as Solara liked to pretend she was, Amara knew she wouldn’t be able to survive another heartbreak. And if Amara didn’t return at all...
He would kill her. She knew that without a shadow of a doubt.
Her eyes flickered over the modern, dark-wood computer desk directly across from the bed and her thoughts traveled to Ronin, who’d retreated to sleep in the living room. That he’d survived their encounter made her far happier than it ought to. If only she could be the coldhearted killing machine she’d agreed to be. But seeing him interact with his brothers had worn down her defenses. Their love for each other was so obvious, so true. He had family who cared about him. Who worried about him.
When had she ever truly felt loved or cared about? She couldn’t remember.
Surely Ronin had fallen asleep by now. If there ever was a time to try to escape, this was it. She’d have to deal with Asmodeus’s anger over her failure to hook Lucio, but that was better than the alternative. The fact that she might not feel loved didn’t mean she couldn’t love in return. Solara needed her. Not only that, but she had to face the truth—staying here, with Ronin, was far too dangerous. She would like to think she could control herself this time, but in her weakened state she might grow ravenous. Might unknowingly attack him like she did that night at Opiate. After all, she hadn’t fed the night before. Less than one more week without sustenance and she’d die.
Living with the belief she’d killed such a good, decent man had been painful. She couldn’t bear it if she killed Ronin for real this time. Or what if she became crazed with hunger and attacked one of his brothers? With her allure on full blast, she could be very hard to resist.
No. She couldn’t stay.
Amara slid off the bed, careful not to make any sound that Ronin could pick up. After grabbing her heels, she held them in her hand and crept toward the door. Thank goodness for his brother’s frantic break-in earlier. Now she didn’t have to worry about turning the doorknob. She tucked her fingers into the hole and held her breath while slowly—very slowly—pulling the door open. When it gave only the slightest creak, she breathed a sigh of relief.
The low hum of a fan that sounded like it came from the living room cut into the relative silence. The urge to see Ronin one final time was almost overwhelming, considering she might never get to do so again. Sure, he would eventually apprehend Asmodeus, but no telling where she’d be by then. Maybe Asmodeus would kill her for failing this time.
Amara fought back the longing to seek out Ronin. It would be too risky to step directly into the room he occupied. He might still be half awake, or he might hear her slightest movement and rouse from his sleep. So instead, she tiptoed down the long hall, bypassing the entrance to the living room, and headed into the foyer.
There it was—the front door. The very object that signaled both her escape...and her return to hell.
Good-bye, Ronin. Be safe.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her fingers around the dead bolt.
§
An entire flock of sheep could have paraded through Ronin’s living room and he still wouldn’t have slept. Good to see Dagan didn’t have that same problem. He’d volunteered to stay in the living room with Ronin to help “guard” Amara—i.e., babysit his ass as if he were a rebellious child who couldn’t be trusted. Only problem was, Dagan had dozed off first, the byproduct of too many consecutive nights of drinking, sex, and not enough shut-eye. He’d sprawled out on one of the overstuffed chairs next to the couch and had propped his bare feet up on the coffee table. Now, when he shifted his position, his mouth fell open on a snore that Ronin could barely hear over the whirring of the ceiling fan.
Ronin crossed his arms behind his head and thought about Amara, like he’d done a zillion times in the past hour. What were the odds of finding her in the home of his latest assignment? His feelings were too conflicted to even process. There was anger at what she’d allowed herself to become—nothing more than an object to lure men to their deaths. Sure, some would say she was well-suited to that purpose, but sex demons didn’t have to kill. His incubus friend Cresso was proof of that.
On top of that, there was something inside her, some sort of light that drew him. And it was more than succubus allure. Something about her specifically.
A whisper of a sound made his muscles tense. He sat up slowly, careful to avoid making any noise. The sound didn’t repeat, but his senses were on high alert. Amara’s musky fragrance was closer now than before, and it instantly made him rock-hard. He rose and untangled the thin sheet from around his legs. A blast of cool air from the ceiling fan hit his bare chest.
He stepped around the coffee table with the practiced grace of his angel heritage, careful not to wake Dagan. He made his way out of the living room...then froze.
Son of a bitch. Amara stood at the front door, her long, delicate fing
ers closing over the lock. She was trying to escape? Really? She must know they’d track her back to Asmodeus. What was so important that she wanted to leave?
Ronin was upon her before she could register his presence. One hand clamped over her mouth while the other wound around her body, underneath her breasts. She tensed and he pulled her tight to his front, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Going somewhere?”
He didn’t want Dagan to wake up and witness her attempted escape, so he turned and led her toward his room. To give Amara credit, she didn’t try to struggle against him. Guess she knew that was futile. No fucking way he was letting her go.
Only once he’d made it back to his bedroom and closed the door did he release her. He kept his voice low. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
A brief flare of anger lit her eyes. “I told you I can’t stay here.”
“I don’t recall giving you an option.”
The shoes she held in one hand dropped to the floor with a thump. “You can’t keep me here against my will.”
Was she serious? “Yes I can. I’m a Detainor for the Council. Would you rather I turned you in to them directly?”
All her fight seemed to leave her in a rush. She padded over to the side of the bed and sat, her back slumped. She didn’t seem to notice that the movement practically pushed her breasts out of the top of her skimpy dress. “You don’t understand.”
Hell, he didn’t like to see her so sad and defeated. Not when he didn’t know why. He followed her to the bed and sat at her side, trying not to notice how sexy her bare toes were with their bright red nail polish, or how deliciously inviting she smelled. “So tell me.”
“I have to go back to him.”
Her words ignited a burst of fury within him. She didn’t actually care for that monster, did she? Maybe she loved him. Maybe that’s what she’d meant when she said he owned her.
“There’s nothing left for you there. It might not be today or even next week, but we will catch Asmodeus. He’ll be imprisoned, at the very least.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You’re wrong about that.”
“Amara, no one escapes the reach of the Council. Not forever, anyway.”
Her bitter laugh washed over him. “No, you misunderstand. There is something left for me there.”
Ronin frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Not something. Someone.”
“Who?”
Amara’s chest heaved on her next breath, her reawakening anger lending strength to her spine. “Asmodeus has my mother.”
Chapter Eight
The way Ronin stared at Amara, his mouth open like a fish, made her well aware of how much she’d shocked him. She hadn’t meant to confide in him, but she hadn’t been able to hold back any longer.
“Asmodeus has your mother?” he finally said. “How?”
She flinched and averted her eyes. Even though she’d chosen to tell him about Solara, he couldn’t know the whole truth about how her mother had become imprisoned. He would be so disgusted with her.
How could he not? She hated herself. It was all her fault.
Amara shook her head. “That’s not important, is it? What matters are the things he’ll do to her if I don’t return. And not just her. There are other succubi there, too. They’re good women. They don’t deserve to suffer his wrath.”
“Oh, hell,” he choked out, empathy pouring from him in waves. “I’m so sorry, Amara.”
The room suddenly felt too small and confining. She stood and crossed over to the windows, drawing one of the shades to the side so she could peek out at the early-morning scene. Bumper-to-bumper traffic lined the streets below, and the occasional human could be seen through the windows of the neighboring building, rushing here and there as if getting ready for a hectic workday.
“That’s how he binds you to him?” he asked. “By using your mother?”
“That’s how he bound me to him. Past tense.”
“What do you mean?”
The curtain fell back into place as she turned to face him. She held out her wrist. “The band. It’s enchanted.”
He rose and took her hand, examining the unassuming gold bangle. “You can’t remove it?”
She twisted her lips into a pained smile. “Try it.”
When he closed his fingers around the surface and tried to slide it off her wrist, nothing happened. It didn’t even budge.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
“Only when I’m hungry, or in distress.” Or when Asmodeus was angry with her.
He frowned. “At Opiate. When I grabbed your hand as you were trying to leave, it felt worse than it does now. Freezing cold.”
Amara ducked her head. “I was starved, and I was upset. I could feel myself losing control.” She hadn’t wanted to hurt him. That had been the last thing she wanted.
Ronin tilted her chin up and forced her to meet his eyes. “What does it do?”
Not only what it did but what it was. A mark of Asmodeus’s ownership.
“He can control me through it,” she whispered. “The bracelet was created by a dark fae, one with very powerful magical abilities. He’s the same person who put that shield up over Asmodeus’s townhouse. When I swore my oath of fealty to Asmodeus in exchange for his agreement to leave my mother alone, he placed this band on my wrist and it fused to my skin. There’s some sort of connection between this band and one that he wears. He can sense things about me. I don’t know what or how. But he told me once he can track me through it. If that’s true, he may discover you’re hunting him.”
“Let him,” he said with a snort. “That won’t change the fact that we’re going to capture his sorry ass.”
“That’s a noble stance, especially when it concerns someone like him.” She stared deep into his eyes, imploring him to understand. “He’s dangerous, Ronin. Evil. You don’t even know how much. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
He lifted a hand to her cheek and caressed her skin. “Don’t worry about me.”
Something passed between them, heavy, complex, and painfully arousing. When her womb clenched, she fought back a hungry moan.
Ronin cleared his throat. “What else does this band do?”
“It also...” She hesitated.
“What?”
She had to tell him. He was in danger. “He can use it to speed up the draining of my life essence.”
Ronin’s fingers tightened on her wrist. “Why would he do that to you?”
“Isn’t obvious?” Bitter anger washed through her, and she wrenched her hand away. “The less time we have between feedings, the more motivated we are to complete our assignments.”
Ronin’s brows knitted together and the muscles in his jaw tightened. “Forget turning him in to the Council. I’m going to kill the bastard.”
That was sweet of him to say, and part of her rejoiced at the thought of Ronin ending Asmodeus’s miserable existence. But they both knew that wasn’t going to happen. He couldn’t disobey a Council directive.
“How long do you have?” When she didn’t respond, Ronin closed his hands over her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “I said, how long?”
“Under a week.”
“Shit.” He released her and momentarily closed his eyes before focusing in on her again. “How long will foreplay delay your need for sex?”
The unexpected shock of his words almost made her jump. Was he seriously considering this? The thought made her nipples tighten and her body spasm in a cross between hunger and anticipation. She couldn’t expect he would be willing, not after all the damage she’d done to him. Still, she couldn’t stop the quiver of hope in her voice. “A few hours. A day, tops, if there’s a lot of it. It mostly, um...takes the edge off the hunger.”
Sh
e could see him processing her words, and she knew the exact moment when he’d come to a decision. He reached for her, his throat working in apparent nervousness.
Oh, hell. She wanted him almost as badly as she feared for his safety. Almost.
Amara opened her mouth to tell him no. What came out instead was the heated whisper of his name.
§
The fact that Amara had actually colored when Ronin mentioned foreplay astounded him. He’d thought that, given what she was, she might be jaded when it came to the topic. But maybe, like him, she was finding a lot of new ground in what was happening here between them. No doubt they were in unfamiliar territory.
Amara licked her full, plush lips. That she was clearly imagining them in bed together nearly tore a groan from his throat. A barrage of memories assaulted him. The strong scent of her desire. The silky heat of her body. The way she had clenched around him, squeezing him to eye-rolling ecstasy.
In all his life, he’d never had a comparison for those few minutes of bliss he’d spent with Amara. What he wouldn’t give to be inside her again. To experience even one more moment of that particular brand of heaven. Impossible. Her touch was deadly.
Except it wasn’t her touch. Not really. Yes, the chemicals her body secreted when she grew aroused were fatal to all but other sex demons. Sex—hell, even going down on her—was off-limits, and that was a damn shame. He’d give anything to know if she tasted as good as she smelled. Even though that wasn’t going to happen, it didn’t mean he couldn’t touch her. The minute amounts of poison that seeped in through the pores of his fingers shouldn’t be enough to harm him.
Right now, he wanted to touch Amara more than anything. And if it would give her even a moment of relief from the gnawing hunger that must be eating away at her?
Well, that was icing on the cake.
His intentions must have read clearly on his face, because her chest rose and fell and her eyes heated with unmistakable arousal. When she spoke his name, the tremor in her voice stoked a pool of liquid desire in his groin.
Touch of the Angel (Demons of Infernum, #3) Page 9