Dark Enemy Redeemed (The Children Of The Gods Paranormal Romance Series Book 6)

by I. T. Lucas

  Like she had done with him. In the back of her mind, she’d been well aware of the connection between Dalhu and Mark’s murder, but she’d refused to acknowledge it.

  Shit, she had done the same thing with Alex.

  “I need to tell Kian.”

  CHAPTER 43: KIAN

  Stretching like a satisfied cat, Syssi purred, “Make-up sex is the best.”

  It had taken Kian a good amount of groveling and artful seducing before she had agreed to forgive him, but it was worth it. The sex had been indeed mind-blowing. But more importantly, the uncomfortable gnawing sensation he’d had in his stomach since morning was gone, replaced by the glorious state of peacefulness that holding Syssi in his arms brought about.

  He snuggled close behind her and closed his eyes. “I love you, Kitten.”

  “Is this my new nickname?”

  “Yes.”

  “I like it. I love you too, Tiger.”

  Kian chuckled. “Tiger, I can live with that.”

  His phone buzzed. “What now?”

  Syssi was closer to the damned thing and she stretched to retrieve it. “Here you go.” She handed it to him.

  “Amanda? What the hell does she want?”

  “Be nice.” Syssi slapped his arm.

  He touched the screen and brought the phone to his ear. “I’m in bed, is this important?” He managed a civil tone.

  “Yeah, I think it is. Would you mind coming down here?”

  Amanda didn’t sound like herself, she sounded troubled, even distraught, which considering the fact that even their recent battles hadn’t managed to rattle her, was cause for alarm.

  “What happened? Are you okay?” Funny how all his animosity toward her evaporated the moment worry settled in. Behind him, Syssi sat up in bed and leaned against his back to listen in.

  “I’m fine, it’s not about me. But I think you were right about Alex. Though if my suspicions are correct, you’ve underestimated the severity of his crimes.”

  Hallelujah, how long had he been telling her that Alex was a scumbag? “I’m getting dressed. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “Can I come?” Syssi asked.

  “Of course, what kind of a question is that?”

  “Well, I don’t want to be told that it’s none of my business.”

  “You’re not going to let me forget it? Are you?” And here he thought that he’d been forgiven.

  “Nope.” She followed him into the shower.

  He turned on the spray heads, the overhead one for himself and the handheld for Syssi. “How long are you going to lay the guilt trip on me?”

  “You should be thankful that I decided against Amanda’s idea.” Syssi adjusted the setting of the spray and grabbed the soap.

  “Oh, yeah? And what was her sage advice?”

  “To blast slam poetry rap and annoy the hell out of you.”

  “That woman is evil and has a twisted sense of humor. So what happened, couldn’t find any?”

  Syssi chuckled. “I found it alright, but Amanda forgot to mention the amount of cussing in the guy’s lyrics. I couldn’t stand it myself.”

  “Thank the merciful fates.”

  CHAPTER 44: DALHU

  “Unbelievable.” Syssi shuddered.

  Listening as Amanda recounted the last part of her story, the girl must’ve grown dizzy from shaking her head so much.

  Before, while Amanda had entertained them with tales of her escapades with the Russian crew of former mud-wrestlers, Kian had chuckled a couple of times, but now he looked ready to commit murder.

  Not that Dalhu disapproved. For a change, he was in full agreement with the guy.

  There was no worse scum on earth than slavers, especially those who trafficked in girls and women—kidnapping and selling them into sexual slavery.

  “If we can prove it, I’m going to have the large assembly vote on a sentence of entombment,” Kian growled.

  “That’s too mild for a maggot like that. He needs killing,” Dalhu blurted before considering that his opinion wasn’t welcomed.

  Kian’s answer was surprisingly amiable. “I wish I could, but my hands are tied. Our law doesn’t allow it.” Evidently, at the moment all of his hostility was directed towards his own clansman, while Dalhu’s status had been downgraded to the role of a lesser evil.

  And rightfully so.

  Compared to this Alex, Dalhu was a good guy, or at least tolerable as far as Kian was concerned.

  Encouraged, he took it further. “I’ll gladly do the dirty work for you—you don’t have to soil your hands.”

  Kian shook his head. “Suspicions are one thing and proof another. First, we need evidence, and then he’ll stand trial.”

  “What if you can’t prove it?” Dalhu pushed.

  “Then the bastard lives.”

  The clan and its lofty, but misguided, ideas of due process. Protecting the rights of murderers, rapists, and slavers came at a price—which was paid out from their victims’ hides.

  The thing was, once identified, filth like that should be cleansed in a timely fashion—before it had a chance to cause even more damage. Dalhu would’ve rather taken care of business right away, trading, in a heartbeat, the occasional mistakenly accused for the lives saved.

  Unfortunately, now and for the foreseeable future, he was relegated to the peanut gallery.

  “You could have the yacht watched,” Syssi offered.

  Amanda shook her head. “I still think our best bet is to get the Russians to talk. I suspect that at least one of them is troubled by what’s going on and might be persuaded to talk. Let’s face it, even if Alex brings a bunch of girls onboard, it doesn’t mean that he plans to kidnap them. It proves nothing. If he makes the delivery out at sea, how are we going to catch him in the act?”

  “But if he returns without them, isn’t it proof enough?”

  “He can always claim that he’d dropped them off somewhere.” Kian took Syssi’s hand and patted it.

  “Why go to all this trouble and let the maggot get away with more trade while you’re playing by the rules? My offer to off him still stands. It will be my pleasure, will give me something to do.” Dalhu could feel his hands twitch with the need to kill.

  Damn, he’d thought that he was better than that—that the killings he’d done were just part of a despised job. So why was he suddenly craving it like a goddamned addict?

  Kian got up and walked up to a wall, his nose almost touching one of Amanda’s portraits. “What’s the matter, Doomer? Drawing not satisfying enough?” The sarcasm in his tone indicated that he knew exactly what was going on in Dalhu’s head.

  He needed to think about his answer carefully. “I like drawing, but it’s only a hobby, something to pass the time while I’m locked down here. But I’m a warrior, not a fairy. I prefer doing a man’s job.”

  Amanda cringed and shifted away from him.

  Fuck, he was such an idiot.

  The programmer had been gay.

  “I’m sorry, I really should get whipped bloody, if not for my crimes then for my idiocy.”

  Kian perked up.

  Syssi cringed.

  Amanda snorted. “Only if I get to do the whipping in a dominatrix outfit. Thigh-high boots, leather bustier—the works.”

  She is joking, right? And if she is, does it mean that she’s softening up?

  He inclined his head in mock submission. “It would be my pleasure to humbly submit to your whip, mistress.”

  “Oh, you say the nicest things.”

  CHAPTER 45: AMANDA

  “What did you think about Kian’s idea with the drone?” Amanda asked after Kian and Syssi had left.

  Dalhu shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not a techie. In theory, it sounds good. The military uses them to spy on whatever and whoever, so if Kian gets his hands on a long range one, he can have it follow that boat out to sea.”

  Amanda sighed. “I wish I were wrong about this whole thing and Alex would be proven innocent. W
ell, at least of this offense. I almost hope we’ll catch him selling drugs. As morally wrong as that is, it’s not as bad as selling women.”

  “How about we change the subject? I can think of a much more pleasant use of our time.” His smirk had sex written all over it.

  “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

  “I’ll show you.” He pulled her hand and placed it over his shaft. “I’ve been this hard ever since you’ve mentioned that dominatrix outfit. I couldn’t stop thinking about you in it.”

  Kinky Dalhu. “Should I look for a whip?”

  His shaft twitched. “Do you want to?”

  Did she? No.

  Playing a dominatrix was one thing, but inflicting real pain was another. “No, but we can play.” She leaned to nuzzle his neck, closing her eyes as his masculine scent filled her nostrils. “I can dress the part, tie you up, and torture you without damaging the goods.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  Every time he said these words, her heart gave a little flutter. My own as-you-wish guy.

  “Give me a minute, then go to the bedroom, remove your clothes, and wait for me in bed.”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  Grabbing the few items she needed from the closet, she ducked into the bathroom.

  Once she was done, Amanda admired the results in the mirrored wall. Damn, I look so hot I’m turning myself on.

  Dalhu was going to climax as soon as he saw her.

  Thigh-high black stockings were held in place by a tiny, lacy garter. And the sheer, even tinier black thong was more of a decoration than an attempt to cover anything. The bra was an ingenious contraption that provided a little boost to her smallish breasts but left her nipples exposed. She’d painted a thick black line around her eyes and a blood-red rouge on her lips. With no boots to complete her outfit, she settled for a pair of black, four-inch stilettos that worked just as well if not better to make her legs look fabulous.

  As Amanda opened the door and sauntered into the bedroom, Dalhu’s indrawn breath was followed by an outpour of male pheromones enough to saturate a stadium let alone the small room, and a flagpole of an Olympian standard.

  “Fuck, Amanda, it’s good that I’m immortal or my heart would’ve stopped from lack of blood supply. It’s all down in my cock.”

  So sweet, the man had a way with words.

  But right now he needed to shut up. “Did I give you permission to speak?” She did her best to sound stern, stifling up the giggles that were threatening to ruin the game.

  “No, mistress, my apologies.” Dalhu’s lips twitched, but he managed to keep a straight face.

  As she turned to the dresser to get some nylon stockings to use as bonds, flashing Dalhu her bare derrière, she heard him take another hissed breath. Poor guy, at this rate he was going to asphyxiate.

  “Spread your arms and your legs,” she commanded.

  He did, and she tied each appendage to a bedpost. The stockings were perfect bondage material, strong but flexible enough not to restrict circulation. Not that Dalhu would have any trouble getting free. Even if she were to secure him to the bed with titanium-reinforced handcuffs, he would’ve no trouble just yanking the posts out of the frame. Except, the last thing Dalhu seemed to want right now was to be released.

  Okay, what to do now?

  If she had known ahead of time that they would be playing this game, she would’ve made a quick Internet search to get ideas, now she had to use her devious mind to come up with a plan.

  Hm…

  A quick sashay to the bathroom provided her first torture implement in the form of a makeup brush. Dalhu raised a brow but was smart enough not to open his mouth without permission.

  With a wicked smile, Amanda sat at the foot of the bed and began to feather the wispy brush in an upward motion over Dalhu’s inner thighs, stopping a hair short of his sensitive parts.

  It didn’t take long for him to start squirming and bucking. He was doing his best to remain quiet, but here and there a muffled groan or a growl escaped his throat.

  What a shame that this game was not doing it for her.

  Dalhu was turned on alright, but it might have been the effect of her sexy outfit and not necessarily what she was doing to him. She dropped the brush and slithered on top of him.

  Now, this was definitely better. The feel of his big, strong body, his warmth. She craved his arms around her; she craved him on top of her. He must’ve read her mind because before she had a chance to notice that he’d gotten free, his large hands were on her back, her ass, stroking, cupping.

  With a groan, she dipped her head and took his mouth in a hungry kiss.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” he whispered in her ear before flipping her under him.

  “Not at all.” His weight was just perfect, heavy but not crushing. And those powerful arms of his, wrapped around her and holding her like he would never let go, well, that was a real turn on.

  He lifted is head and bent his neck to admire her jutting nipples. “I wanted these in my mouth since the second I saw you coming out of the bathroom. This weird bra is sexy as hell.” Sliding down, he did exactly that, licking, nipping, and blowing hot air on her little buds until she was squirming worse than he had a few moments ago.

  Was he exacting revenge? Or just having fun?

  She’d bet it was the former.

  Except, it seemed that Dalhu didn’t enjoy torturing her any more than she had enjoyed tormenting him. With a tender kiss goodbye to each pebbled nipple, he slid further down her body and got busy eating her panties.

  He had them shredded and off her in no time. “Spread your legs for me, my beauty,” he commanded, then nipped at her inner thigh, his sharp fangs almost nicking her flesh.

  She parted her legs wider, and he rewarded her with a lash of his tongue, painting a trail of scorching heat down to her slit. So good. He flicked her swollen clit, and her back arched on a throaty moan.

  “You like?” He growled against her flesh, then thrust a finger deep inside her.

  “Oh, oh, yes!” she cried when his lips closed around her swollen clit and he pushed back with two fingers. She was coming undone under the steady, gentle onslaught of his tongue and his lips and his fingers—the orgasm building up momentum like a tsunami.

  He was playing her body like a master musician his prized violin, with skill, love, and reverence.

  On a scream, the tsunami crested and crashed toward shore. In a heartbeat, Dalhu pushed inside her with one powerful thrust, his fangs sinking into her neck at the same time.

  Bliss.

  CHAPTER 46: AMANDA

  “Where are you going?” Dalhu asked.

  Damn, she thought he was sleeping. Bending at the waist, she kissed his bruised lips. That last ride had been a little wild. Surprising, considering that it had been their fourth, or perhaps fifth? She wasn’t sure.

  It hadn’t been gentle.

  The sex, the wonderful closeness and Dalhu’s skillful and reverent touch had brought about feelings she wasn’t ready for. And looking into his big, warm, chocolate colored eyes, so adoring, so devoted, she’d felt herself falling for him big time. But while her heart had been swelling with love, her gut had been churning with guilt and the two mixed together had produced a combustible attitude.

  She’d hurt him, just a little, and he’d taken everything she’d dished out with relish.

  What an amazing male—

  “I’m going to see Edna, our legal expert.”

  “Why? Can’t it wait till morning? Come back to bed.”

  “No, I need to ask her something.”

  He sat up and leaned his back against the headboard. “What’s so urgent that you’re going to bother her at this hour?” He glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s after ten.”

  She didn’t want to tell him her idea before running it by Edna. But since this was about him, he deserved to know.

  Sitting on the bed beside Dalhu, Amanda clasped his hand. “Edna has a unique ability, we cal
l her the Alien Probe because she can see and judge what’s in a person’s heart. Combined with Andrew’s ability to discern truth from lie, she might be able to finally convince Kian that you’re not harboring some secret evil intentions and are completely loyal to us. He trusts her judgment implicitly.”

  “Okay.” He pulled her to him for a kiss and held her for a long moment flush against his warm chest. “I love you,” he whispered.

  “I know.” It was hard to deny him the words he so desperately needed, even cruel, but she just couldn’t.

  He let her go and slipped back under the covers. “I’ll be awaiting your return, mistress,” he teased.

  They were not playing that game again. Well, except for the dress up, that part had been fun.

  With a sigh, she left him and ducked into the tiny closet. The thing was no more than five by five, not nearly adequate even for a modest selection.

  Before getting dressed, she checked with Edna, and her text message received an immediate and concise reply. Of course.

  The next text went to Okidu. He was on his way to let her out, which precluded lengthy preparations. Yoga pants, T-shirt, and a pair of flip-flops would have to do.

  On her way up to Edna’s, at the councilwoman’s new secure apartment assigned to her after Mark’s murder, Amanda wondered what she looked like when not dressed for her official duties. She’d always seen the woman in either a loose-fitting pantsuit or her ceremonial robe, her hair brushed back and secured in a severe bun.

  As she knocked on Edna’s door, Amanda was actually excited about getting a glimpse of the formidable judge in her off time.

  The improvement turned out to be minimal. Instead of a bun, Edna had pulled her hair into a ponytail, and instead of a pantsuit, she had on a dark blue jumpsuit that might have been fashionable in the late eighties but now belonged only in a goodwill store.

  Oh, well.

  It seemed that Edna’s appearance had nothing to do with looking professional for her job and everything to do with a complete lack of style.