by Lexi Ostrow
“That’ll be enough of that,” she commanded, doing her best to restrain her sexual presence. She had limits on what she would sleep with, and giant bug demons were past them.
The beast lifted onto its hind legs as it turned. Resembling the recently discovered Hercules Beetle it thrashed its head, waving the sharp hooked horn in the air. Its black body was slick with human blood, and a quick glance down told her they had failed to save the demon.
“I do not answer to your kind,” the demon snarled as its eyes glowed red and small wings began to lift it off the ground.
“And I don’t give a bloody fuck.” Responding, she launched herself into the air, dagger first and drove it into the backside of the demon.
Crashing to the ground from a few meters up did not hurt, but it pissed her off. She’d known they had though shells covering their pathetically frail skeleton, but she had just assumed a dagger would have done the trick.
A brilliant beam of green spawned next to her face, and she heard the sizzle as it connected with the demon’s thick hide.
“Erreeee!” It howled, dropping on all fours, and gnashing its jaws.
“Well, get off to it, Clara!” Thomas shouted, pinging another ray of light off the creatures back.
He was letting her have the kill she’d asked for.
“I’m going to look forward to this.” She knew her eyes were as black as night as her demon side emerged. Not for sex, but for ichor, for death.
Tackling the beast to the snow, she landed a punch to its face as it writhed and tried to launch her backwards. Her heart pumped rapidly as she felt fangs dig into the flesh of her calf. Seconds, you now have seconds. There was not time to think about strategy, she would be paralyzed in moments. Allowing her Succubae talents to slither out just enough to render the creature helpless she collapsed on top of it even as the struggling ceased.
“Thomas, now! It will not struggle.”
“I can smell!” He laughed a bit manically and fired his crystal weapon directly between the creature’s eyes.
With a final screech, the demon went slack beneath her, sending her face first into a file of black ichor and freezing snow.
“Thomas,” she said, though it sounded more like ‘thomphas’ with her face in the snow and the paralytic agent taking hold.
“Bullocks! It got you, didn’t it? Shit, you can’t nod to tell me.”
Hands wrapped around her shoulders, jerking backwards, and landing her on her back. Her breath was visible on the cold air, but she could do nothing save for lay there. Even her mouth had fallen prey to the substance.
Thomas kneeled beside her. “Not like I need to iterate this, but I will take care of this.”
Not standing, he pulled out the knob on his communicator that would lead to the person in charge of the rounds—Philippe.
“Go.” A heavily laced French accent barked through the device.
“Clara and I need a cleaning crew. One Visawroth and one human male. We were too late to save him, and the Visawroth ran and bit Clara.”
“Mon Dieu! Very well. I will send help for her, you remain there.” The connection terminated.
Thomas looked down at her with a small smile. “I’m certain you do not wish to speak to me at the moment, or rather, listen to me speak. I will wait a few meters away and allow you to compartmentalize what occurred as I know you cannot control the hormones floating around you.”
Pursing his lips, he pushed up off his knees and walked just far enough away from her upwind that he would not be as affected by her.
Hugo. The thought snapped into her mind, not because she assumed sexual release could heal her, but because she suddenly could sense him. It was the same feeling one got when someone stood too close to them. Should I be able to sense him? I am not an Angel.
Without control over her eyes, she stared blankly into the dark night sky. She wanted to be angry with herself for getting bit, but she was not. She was embarrassed. Alliance hunter or not, she had lived for centuries protecting herself from demons that sought her for food or pleasure. To be taken down by a mere Visawroth was a testament to the distractions of being mated. Had she not been so tired, perhaps she would have been fast enough to dodge the bite.
You can analyze this until the feeling returns to your body. You failed, accept it. Even the voice in her head seemed aggravated.
The familiar buzzchime of a communicator blasted through the otherwise silent night. Had she been able to cringe, she would have. It was her device, and it continued to make a ruckus until Thomas trotted over and pulled out the dial, giving her an apologetic look.
“’Ello?” He asked, still looking at Clara.
“Beg pardon, I must have done this wrong. I was seeking a Clara Burrowes.” Hugo’s charming American accent drifted up from the communicator on her wrist.
Thomas smirked playfully, and she wished willpower was enough to help her break through the poison.
“She’s a bit . . . indisposed at the moment,” Thomas chuckled as if he’d told the best little laugh ever.
“Is she alright?” Concern poured out with the simple question.
“She’ll be well in time. Nothing deadly, just a mere annoyance that has left her . . . unable to use her body.”
She flushed and mentally made a note to pound Thomas into dust when next they trained together for implying there was anything wrong with her, let alone her sexual appetites.
Hugo cleared his throat and said nothing for a short time.
“Bloke, I’m not certain you are fully aware, but these devices have a time limit, a power limit actually. So, if there is a message you need Clara to hear, by all means, deliver it before we are cut off.”
Perhaps he is quiet and assessing if he can trust who is speaking. Don’t be ridiculous, Clara. He is not a hunter, he would not think in such a pattern.
“Please ask her to come to the labs when she has a moment. A mutual design we had spoken of a few nights prior came to fruition whilst I was in America, and I can think of none better to test it with than her.”
The communicator shut down, the glow of the crystal receding as the power drained mere seconds after the request was delivered.
Thomas pushed the knob in on her device and beamed down at her. “Seems you and your American lover have something scientific to play with. It’s a magnificent thing your rotation is ending early.” He snickered and sat beside her.
If I could send you my thoughts, you’d know I’m going to take you down a peg in the future. She was over the feeling of helplessness.
“I heard you were in need of an Angel?” A female voice spoke quietly from behind Thomas. “My name is Lydia, and I am honored to be of assistance.”
Thomas rose, bowing before the Angel and she had to wonder if Felicia and Thomas had taught him to do such.
“She was bitten by a Visawroth, less than thirty minutes have passed.” He pointed to the oozing gash that thankfully was red due to her lesser demon nature.
“It will be no trouble,” Lydia was beautiful, even by Angel standards. Dark blonde hair hung in curls to her waist whilst small light brown eyes peeked out from behind long lashes. “Please move, young man.” Gesturing for Thomas to step aside as she kneeled and looked into Clara’s eyes. “I know you cannot move, but I promise this will not hurt.”
An Angel had healed Clara just after the Alliance had named her an alley. Sex alone had not been enough to cure her wounds and had she tried she could have killed her bed partner with her needs.
Lydia placed two delicate hands over the bite and closed her eyes. A soft glow emanated from her hands, white as she was a Pure Angel. Within mere moments, Clara felt her eyes blink, finally able to wet them from the winter cold.
Unsure if she could speak she tired. “Thank you.” Her tongue was heavy in her mouth, and she swirled it around for good measure to try to get used to being able to move it after a few moments without the ability.
Lydia rose. “My instructions were to hea
l you and bring you back to the Alliance of Silver and Steam in London.” She turned to Thomas. “I was told to make certain you knew to remain present. A cleanup crew will come for both human and demon as well as Clara Burrowes motorbike.”
Clara forced herself to stand, ignoring the way she tipped to the side as she regained use of her legs. She had been without the ability to move for ten or so minutes, there was no telling how troublesome movement would have been if she had waited the poison out without Angelic intervention.
“Sorry, Thomas. Consider it payback part one for the jesting. The rest will come at our next sparring session.”
He saluted her as one would salute a military man. “I’ll remember that. Get some rest . . . or whatever that American has in mind. You’ll need it to heal properly.”
“She will not. An Angel’s touch is all inclusive.” Lydia snipped, unmistakably offended by Thomas’ remake.
He gave a look of panic and a small wave before Lydia touched her arm and flashed them to just inside the Grand Hall.
“Be safe, Clara Burrowes,” and with that, she flashed out.
Her body still seemed shaky, but she did not wish to wait a moment longer to see Hugo. His communication intrigued her, but she was far more interested in making certain he understood how important the mated bond was to her before they did anything else.
Blowing out a breath Hugo paced around the small space next to his desk. His worry for Clara drastically overshadowed his impatience at wanting to show her what he had discovered. Being in America had been incredibly difficult, both because he had not been with her and because his family had been less than understanding about his desire to move to London and forsake everything his father and grandfather had fought for in the Revolutionary War.
But mostly because you were without Clara, he noted. What had started as mere dreams of being with her, sexually and just in the same room, they’d rapidly changed to waking fantasies. One moment he’d been speaking with Tesla, trying to see if the man had truly been memory wiped, and the next he’d swore he felt Clara’s hands on his shaft, stroking him to an extreme hardness.
Despite the fantasies, something wonderful had come from his visit. With Alliance tools at his disposal, and seeing how Nikola was hastily trying to beat Edison to a light bulb, he was almost confident he’d come up with the correct formula to do so. A project that he’d raced down to the labs to begin, but seeing the great tree in the main hall had given him pause. Clara’s wish had been to breathe new life into the tree and being able to shine light upon it for all to enjoy would do so. So, he’d set up everything he would—blown glass, a copper wire filament, a purple demon crystal, and a sort of hand crank. He just knew that his idea would see fruition.
“What do you have here?” Eliza asked as she stepped up beside him, quiet as a mouse.
“When I was in America, I believe I found a solution to capturing light. It will require the use of demon crystals, at least to start, but I know this will work and will at least provide a break for the crystals. Jacob and McKenna informed me or their rareness and should I succeed, this will preserve them for longer.”
Eliza’s face beamed as he spoke, she was practically vibrating with energy. “I am very impressed. I knew that seeking those with outside intelligence would reinvigorate the labs!” She clapped her hands happily. “All right, Hugo is working on something of utmost importance to the Alliance—and the world—because if he succeeds, we will be providing something to the public for the first time in our history.”
Murmurs filled the space around him, and he could hear the jealous and snide remakes from those closest to him. It didn’t bother him, he was used to being treated poorly by Tesla. What mattered was Eliza clearly trusted him to deliver.
“With that being said, I’d like you all to leave. Let’s give Hugo forty-eight hours alone in the lab. No one speaks against this, or I can assure you I’ll see to it that my husband and daughter know about it.”
The room was deadly quiet, and Hugo wondered how oft Eliza gained respect through her husband. He had been under the impression she had been in charge long before Lucius, but the comment made him uncertain.
One by one, each inventor filed out, none looking him in the eyes. Less than a moon cycle here and you’ve managed to earn their scorn. At least Tesla disliked him because he was damn near as intelligent as Tesla was.
“Now,” Eliza said, rubbing her hands together as she turned back to him. “I wanted you to have the space to yourself because I myself know the dangers of working with currents. I can think of no less than eight occasions when I have zapped myself silly trying to capture light without heating a demon crystal. So, I will bring in some lead-lined boots for your safety, to ground you.”
He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he already had a pair amongst his things. One didn’t work with Tesla and Edison without safety materials.
“Eliza?” He called just as she was walking away.
“Yes?”
“I apologize if this is overstepping, but I have to inquire. Do you oft gain control over the others with mention of your husband and daughter?”
The unexpected happened when Eliza burst out laughing so hard she nearly slipped to the ground. Hugo was utterly uncertain as to what she found funny about his question but assumed she’d fill him in when she regained control of herself.
“Oh,” she said between laughs and panted breaths, “I can absolutely understand the question.” Standing upright, she took three deep breaths. “I have done a few times, to ensure they realized I meant business. My husband is without a doubt the most terrifying member of our staff when he wishes to be, and my daughter has shown many signs of following in her father’s footsteps, even if my son did not.”
“I had not realized nightmares would be the world's greatest power.”
Eliza chuckled as she smiled. “You would be surprised what fear can make us do—how it can make us act.”
“Hugo?”
The sound of his name shot a bolt of desire through him. Hearing Clara was by far more seductive than fantasizing about it.
“I will leave you then. Please, warn Clara about what it is you will be doing so she may decide if she wishes to remain.” Eliza said with a small nod to Clara before walking to leave the labs.
His gaze landed on her, and everything save for his mate vanished from his field of vision. Her long black hair was done up with spiral curls framing her face, which only added to her beauty. Every time he saw her in her hunter’s attire, she only grew more seductive. Ample bosom rose to a tease just above the top of the deep purple corset. The gathered band of a black cotton skirt had emphasized a perfectly narrow waist before it flared out—to disguise any weapons she held beneath and to further the notion that she belonged on the streets when the oil lamps burned brightly.
She looked well, but he knew he’d heard her partner’s word correctly.
“Are you well then?” his voice was deeper than usual, tinged with lust.
“An Angel helped me. Their healing talents are quite wonderful when needed.”
“You were hurt then?” He felt a surge of annoyance grow that he hadn’t been with her to protect her and that her partner had failed to do so.
“I would not call it hurt so much as inconvenienced.”
She looked at him, and all he could think of was how badly he’d missed a woman he’d barely known. Mated mark or not, he was intrigued by her and wanted to see her happy. If she said she was well, then it was his turn to tell her something that might make her smile.
“I believe I may have discovered something pertinent.”
She placed her hand on his shoulder, and a zap of desire shot through him. Every molecule of his being screamed to touch her. To fuck her. To claim her. Nothing existed save for the call of her body to his. Her dark eyes grew wide when they met his stare.
“I don’t think,” he swallowed hard, ignoring the throbbing of his shaft as best as he could. “That we are going t
o speak upon what I called you for.”
Her tongue slipped out and flicked over her bottom lip, drawing a painful groan from him. “I’d like to know.” Her voice was hoarse, sultry even. She took a step forward, dragging her hand over his chest until she reached the bottom of his shirt and tugged it over his head.
Rolling his hips against hers, he could only wonder how the mere sight of her could engorge his shaft so. The smell of sex did not linger in the air, which meant she was not affecting him as a Succubae, merely as his mate.
“We need this, Hugo. If we ignore it, we’re only delaying when it will happen. Yet, I see the labs are empty and do not wish to distract you from your invention if it was that important.”
His mouth was on hers a split second before her hand slipped inside in trousers. Long, delicate fingers curled around his throbbing length and simply held him. Twisting his hips forced her grip to loosen, and she stroked him once. Their mouths mashed together, fighting for dominance in the most animalistic way possible. Over and over their teeth clashed and their noses bumped together as their tongues desperately stroked to and fro.
“I need to touch you,” he gasped against her mouth.
Her response was to lift her skirts, holding the fabric betwixt them. Hugo didn’t hesitate to drop his hand betwixt their bodies and stroke the delicate curls the way her hand played slowly with his shaft. Sliding a finger over her swollen nub, he found her wet enough to drive him mad with desire. His hips bucked in her hand as he dipped a finger inside her core, relishing in the way her body squeezed the digit.
“Hugo,” she panted as if his touch had been the most erotic, delightful sensation she’d ever experienced. Her hand tightened around his prick and began to move at a rapid pace as she reached her other hand around to his balls and gently massaged them.
“Fuck, I swear it’s as if your touch is more skilled than any other woman’s.” His head fell back with a sigh as the friction increased, drawing his release closer and closer in record time.