by Mina Carter
He leaned down to brush his lips over mine. Even that little movement sent shock waves of pleasure through me. “No, I’m definitely all wolf.”
I didn’t argue, all power of speech leaving the building quicker than a white-suited music legend, and clung to his shoulders as he powered into me. The headboard slammed into the wall and I giggled. We were so doing it doggie-style next time.
“Find me funny?” he mock growled, nipping my ear. Another bolt of pleasure rocked through me, making my pussy clench hard around him. “Don’t you know what they say about wolves?”
I wrapped my legs around his hips and pushed back against him on his next thrust. My breathing came in short pants and I just needed him to fuck me, not engage in fucking chit-chat. “That they don’t talk when they screw?” I asked hopefully.
“That… and we have very long tongues, all the better to eat you out with…” He winked as he buried himself inside me and rolled his hips, trapping my clit between us.
I moaned, body suddenly tight around his. Oh, hell yes, I could totally get behind that.
Our movements became faster, the slap of skin on skin loud in the room as a soft glow, magic I absently realized, enveloped us. I was too busy to think about that right now though, straining against Lucas as he powered into me. The tension in my body reached a peak and then cracked. I cried out, his name a muffled scream as my body exploded in white hot, liquid pleasure.
He grunted, hips stalling for a second as the grip of my pussy around him tightened, and then he upped his pace. No longer smooth, each erratic thrust sent hard shards of sensation through me, feeding my release. I tried to move with him, but he slid a large hand beneath my hips, holding me still as he fucked me hard.
Then he stiffened, buried so deep I thought he was trying to reach freaking china and threw his head back to roar.
I reached up to slap my hand over his mouth, cutting the sound off as he came with hard shivers, dick pulsing in my depths. We froze like that for long moments before the tension went out of his frame and he nodded. I moved my hand.
“People sleeping, remember?” I whispered, a hitch in my breath as little aftershocks rolled through my body. I couldn’t have moved if all the hounds of hell suddenly crashed through the door. Of course, if they had, I’d have blasted them all with hellfire, to fuck with the decor.
“Let them hear,” he whispered, kissing along my neck. “They know what we’re doing anyway.”
I blinked, shoving at his shoulders. “How? No one saw us come up here.”
He grinned, a sappy look on his handsome face. “Because I told them that you’re my mate.”
The next morning Lucas was still grinning like a freaking idiot when we finally emerged and headed downstairs to grab some breakfast. I say breakfast, but what I really mean is coffee. And by coffee, what I mean is liquid “not sleeping for a week” strong enough to throw sugar cubes back at you and fight for the spoon.
I am so not a morning person.
But Lucas had softened my usual “gimme the coffee and back away slowly” snarls down to a murmur with a round of morning sex that had my body tingling at just the memory. Morning sex could make me a morning person. Maybe.
If I planned on keeping him, especially after he’d dropped out the M-word. Mate, not marriage. Marriage is easy. You can get divorced or, if you’re really pushed, kill them off. New patio, bit of garden landscaping and you’re golden.
Mating a Shifter though? That’s serious stuff. There’s no way out of that shit. Apart from killing them off, I guess. But Shifters are a fuck-ton harder to kill off than mortals, so if I let Lucas bite me… yeah, I’d have to be really damn sure that’s what I wanted.
“We are not mates,” I hissed, continuing the argument we’d started upstairs. I turned suddenly, blocking his exit from the stairs and cupped him through the jeans that rode low on his hips. I tried not to think about the hardening bulge in my hand, or those little v-thingies at the sides of his hips that led down…
“If you bite me without permission…” I tightened my grip momentarily. Not for long and not hard enough to cause him pain, but enough to make him suck in a breath, blue eyes widening as he looked down at me. “I’ll take matters into my own hands. Not in a way you’ll enjoy, either. Do I make myself clear?”
He swallowed and nodded. Then the expression in his eyes softened and he reached down to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. It was such a small, soft and loving gesture that my heart stuttered a little. I ignored it. My heart was a soft bitch at times.
“I would never do anything without your permission, or to cause you pain,” he said in a low voice. “What kind of start to our life together would it be if I forced you to mate me?”
“We’re not having a life together,” I protested, my firm tone weakening as he started to lean down, his lips obviously headed toward mine. Dammit, I wanted that kiss, but I wasn’t about to let him get around me like that. Ducking to the side, I broke his grip.
“Friends with benefits only. And, you promised coffee and breakfast,” I pointed out. “And I get a real bad case of the hangries if you don’t feed me.”
He chuckled, hopping down the last step and linking his fingers through mine. “Come on then, let’s feed you before you spit fire at me.” His sidelong glance made me smile. “You don’t spit fire. Do you? I’ve never met a witch like you before…”
“Go on with you,” I laughed, hiding behind the tinkling tones as I pushed him into the kitchen ahead of me. Laughing and turning to pull me into his arms, he didn’t seem to realize I hadn’t actually answered his question.
My smile faded. The kitchen was full of Shifters. It seemed like Rafe’s kitchen was the main meeting place for all of Boring’s wolf population. They leaned against the counters, by the door, sat at the breakfast bar, mugs in hands. Rafe himself sat at the kitchen table, pale and with one arm in a sling, his free hand holding that of a young woman sitting kitty-corner to him. Linette, the young woman who’d almost been disemboweled by vamp claws.
Everyone looked around as we stumbled into the room, and I didn’t miss the little head bows and nods of deference when they saw Lucas… or the slightly awed and, if I’m honest, frightened looks they bestowed on me. Suck it up, buttercups. If they knew what I really was, they’d run for fucking cover.
Rafe and Linette snatched their hands away as soon as they spotted us and I frowned. The big warlock—I couldn’t quite think of him as my father yet, especially when he didn’t know what I was to him—looked guilty as sin. Like a kid who’d gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
It wasn’t sexual, though, or at least I hoped not because daddy dearest was old enough to actually be her father. But I didn’t get that vibe from them. No, something else was going on here.
My eyes narrowed as I looked around the room.
“Were you healing her?” I demanded. All the Shifters in here made sense now. Just like that, my bitch switch got flipped.
“What the fuck? I just got you leveled out… are you trying to screw it all up?” I was so angry I felt the ends of my hair begin to smoke and curl. I ignored it, and chose to focus on Lucas’s soothing hand on my back as I glared at my father.
“Did you forget you’re still under a curse? It’s only the co—blocking spell,” I corrected quickly, not wanting to admit how I knew about counter-curses, or the fact that I could cast one. “…that’s keeping you out of the damn grave!” Well, running the reaper out of town helped with that but the less said about that the better.
“You should all be ashamed of yourselves.” I looked around the room, but none of the Shifters would meet my eyes. Mind you, I wouldn’t want to either. I have a glare that would give a reflection a headache, especially when I was in a bad mood.
“Just because he can heal you all doesn’t mean he should. None of you are dying or unable to move, so you can cope with a few boo-boos. Now scram before I really lose my temper… and no, don’t look at him,” I snapped as
several pairs of eyes turned toward the werewolf at my side. “Look at the pissed off death witch over here.”
I flexed my fingers, allowing the orange magic that came from my mortal half to flow over them.
“Leave,” I advised. “Come back only, and I do mean only, if there’s blood or broken bones. Understand?”
Chapter 9
Amidst some embarrassed grumbling, several shame-faced Shifters filed out. Linette tried to slink past me, avoiding eye contact, but I stopped her with a hard hand on her arm.
“Not so fast. Let me check you.”
Of all the Shifters, she was the one that didn’t look so hot, triggering all sorts of new and uncomfortable feelings of concern. They had to be from my long-dormant mortal half. It was uncomfortable. I needed a weeklong bath and some good old debauchery or something to purge them. I’m a princess of hell, we don’t do this caring shit.
The female werewolf shivered as she stood in front of me. She wasn’t just slender. Girl was seriously in need of a cheeseburger or seven.
Taking her hand, I let my new instincts guide me. Her stomach was newly healed but she wasn’t out of the woods yet. I was no healer, but the niggle in the back of my brain said there was something wrong.
Closing my eyes, I reached out to find my focus pulled to her stomach. There, under the healed tissue was a cluster of black, dying cells. My breath caught in the back of my throat as I froze for a moment. What the hell did I do now? If that dead patch spread, the infection would kill her, and there was no way Rafe was strong enough to heal her at the moment. How the hell did I get around this? I couldn’t alter the laws of nature…
I almost grinned. No, I wasn’t a healer and I couldn’t alter the laws of nature, but it didn’t mean I had to play by the same rules. I couldn’t heal but I didn’t need to. I just needed to stop her dying, and apparently, death was my bitch.
Working quickly, I called the orange magic from my soul.
“Healer’s lore and witches blood,
Give me strength and don’t delay,
Ward the body and wrap the crud,
Let this wolf hold death at bay.”
At my words, orange magic spread outward from my hands and over Linette’s stomach. She gasped, clinging to my arms with a look of surprise on her face.
“I-it’s warm,” she said in wonder. “I’ve been so cold.”
Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she folded up way more gracefully than I’d have been able to. I’d have face planted loudly on the floor, kissing the lino.
I managed to grab her before she did, her slender weight nothing for my demon-enhanced strength. I hefted her up easily, and realized both Rafe and Lucas were looking at me oddly.
“I lift, alright?” I snapped, handing the unconscious wolf off to Lucas.
“Take her home and make sure someone can stay with her,” I ordered. “She’s not healed but my spell will stop her condition getting worse until Rafe is well enough to heal her properly.”
Lucas nodded, a loose wave of hair flopping forward over one eye. I resisted the urge to reach out for a moment, but then I gave in and tucked it back out of the way. His smile was warm, pleased at the touch, so I glared at him. I didn’t want him getting any ideas.
“I’ll make sure of it,” he promised and ducked out of the door.
I watched him, well… I mainly watched his tight ass in those jeans go and then I turned around to find Rafe watching me. I paused at the hard look in his eyes, my demon senses all tingling as power built up in the room, shivering along my skin like static. The warlock was calling power, probably using the hand under the table that I couldn’t see.
I smiled, my posture and bearing relaxed. “Put it away, Granddad. You’re in no condition to go toe to toe with me and you know it.”
He held my gaze for a long moment and then sighed. The power built up dissipated as though it had never been. I reached out, turning the chair opposite him around and sat down astride it, my forearms crossed over the back. My gaze invited him to elaborate. Now.
He sighed again, running a hand through his long hair and I cut a longing glance at the coffeepot in the middle of the table. The delicious smell wafted through the room, overpowering the smell of so many werewolves and tempting me with its decadent aroma.
“I wouldn’t be a match for you even at full power, would I?” Rafe said, his voice filled with mild challenge, like it wasn’t a surprise to him. At my look, he chuckled. “Come on, sweetheart, this ain’t my first rodeo. I recognize a demon when I see one. Not sure how you managed to get ahold of mortal magic, though. That body you got there must’ve had a strong soul if you can use what magic it had.”
He lifted his coffee mug and took a sip, dark eyes regarding me steadily over the rim as he took a sip. Fucker. I ached for coffee, my whole being fixated on the mug. That’s one thing you need to know about demons… we’re all into indulgence. If you’re clever, you can trap us that way.
“You’re good, I’ll give you that,” he carried on, cradling the mug in his hands. “A hellcat as a familiar though? You might want to be careful there. A few people might be able to recognize them.”
I blinked, keeping my poker face for a moment, and then let it drop. “How’d you tell that?”
I was genuinely curious. No one had run screaming from me since I’d come topside, so I assumed my cover was good. Perhaps it wasn’t though? Perhaps I’d made some kind of human faux pas, like wearing spots and stripes together, or matching a smoky-eye and red lips.
Rafe shrugged, the movement so familiar I might as well have been looking in a mirror. Waving his fingers slightly, peachy-colored magic filled the air as a cupboard opened and a mug floated toward us. In a movie-worthy sequence, the mug, spoon and coffeepot danced in the air as he fixed me a mug. With a flick of his fingers, he sent the mug floating through the air to settle down in front of me gently.
Grabbing it, I buried my nose with a grateful sigh and sucked down some of the blessed fluid. Coffee, the only substance in the world other than G-G-G—fuckit, I can’t even say his name thanks to the curse on all fallen and part fallen—Grandfather, the big man upstairs, capable of giving life. Because, there sure as hell ain’t no life happening in me before at least seven cups in a morning.
“My best friend growing up was a demon.”
I almost choked on my coffee, snorting and swallowing it down in a slide of what felt like molten fricken’ lava to avoid breathing it. Breathing coffee is never good.
“What?”
Rafe nodded. “Thick as thieves we were. Always getting into trouble. If it could happen to us, it did. I always knew he was a bit different… turns out, he’d been possessed by a demon when he was a baby.”
I blinked like a freaking owl. Demon possessions were actually quite rare. It took real power, especially a possession that spanned years like that.
“Turns out his mother had made a deal. She never knew her kid was actually gone and it was just the demon. Not just any demon either.”
My mug froze halfway to my lips. “Oh?”
“Nope. It was Lucifer himself.”
“No. Way.” My mug hit the table with a clunk. WTF… My dad and Uncle Luce had been BFFs? “Oh my g… That’s…”
Rafe nodded, running a fingertip around the rim of his mug. “Never understood why he stayed in the kid for so long, why that mother mattered so much to him but… Being friends with the devil himself? Fuck it, that was cool.”
I hid the depth of my interest. “So, what happened?”
Pain, real pain, flashed across his features for a moment, and he snorted bitterly. “A woman, what else?”
My expression set. Oh crap, this was rapidly heading into ewww territory. At the look on my face though, he started to laugh.
“It’s not what you think. We didn’t fall for the same girl. Turns out the devil has a sister… a twin actually. Lilith… shit, you know all this, don’t you?”
I nodded, keeping my mouth shut
about exactly how much I knew of the Morningstar family tree.
“She’s a princess of hell. Not there much though. She and the boss man don’t get on.”
A sad smile crossed the warlock’s lips. “They never did. Too similar.”
“So…” I said when he didn’t carry on. The suspense was killing me. “What happened with Lucifer’s sister?”
Rafe snapped back to the present from wherever he’d been, his eyes refocusing and losing their dreamy cast. “I fell for Lilith. Lucifer found out and banned us from ever seeing each other again. Threatened to bring down the apocalypse itself if we did.”
He met my eyes, gaze steely and hard. “Because of that asshole, I lost the woman I loved. If I ever see him again, king of hell or not, I’ll kill him with my bare hands.”
Well… balls.
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. So instead, I took another sip of coffee. Coffee always understands, doesn’t judge, and doesn’t ask stupid questions. Like… What the fuck do I say to that? Instantly, any plan to tell Rafe that I had Lucifer in ornament form in my back pocket died a hasty death.
Shit, what the hell was I gonna do now?
My entire plan for saving the world hinged on my biological father, a powerful warlock, healing Satan himself and thus avoiding a power struggle for the front of hell and preventing the apocalypse… Neither of which would happen if said warlock slaughtered the king of hell while he was helpless.
We. Were. So. Screwed.
Rafe laughed, the skin at the corners of his eyes wrinkling with amusement. “Awkward much? Sorry, you don’t need to know all this… It’s ancient history. Besides… Lucifer never let any of his family out of his sight, so the chance you’re a Morningstar is little to none.”
I was saved from answering that by a knock on the door. Well, I say knock, it was actually more like a frantic hammering. Like a mutant woodpecker with rabies.