Knight's Dominion (Knights of Hell Book 4)

by Sherilee Gray

  He stared down into her beautiful eyes and fought the urge to kiss her again. “You won’t bend on this?”

  “No.”

  He wanted to fall asleep after being inside her every night, wanted to wake up to her every morning, to her soft warmth, her drugging scent, and take her all over again.

  Since that wasn’t an option, he had to try to make her understand what he needed from her. “The connection we share, it can't be explained away, it can't be manipulated or suppressed. It just is. I know that now."

  Her gaze searched his. "What are you saying?"

  “I need the animosity between us to stop. And I need access to you when…” How the hell did he put this without sounding like a fucking sleaze?

  She turned to stone beneath him. "You want unlimited access to my body. Is that what you’re saying?"

  The way she said that and the look on her face made him fucking ill. He searched his mind for the right words, for anything that would make what he was asking of her okay. He was grasping at thin air. “The sounds you make, the way you move beneath me, I know you like the way I fuck you, Grace."

  Her nails dug into his skin. That only turned him on more.

  "Your ego really is out of control,” she bit back.

  He slid out of her tight pussy a little, then back in. The soft moan that escaped from between her lips told him she most definitely liked what he was doing. Right then he needed that confirmation more than anything. The alternative wasn’t something he could stomach. “You want me to stop?" he choked out, throat tight as hell.

  Planting a hand on his shoulder, she pushed.

  He fell back, rejection flooding his body. She was going to deny him, was going to climb off the bed and leave him there, desperate for her, on the verge of goddamn insanity.

  But she didn’t, she straddled his hips, gripped his cock, and took him back inside her, and rode him—slow and easy.

  A vicious curse exploded from him, and his eyes rolled to the back of his fucking head when she squeezed down hard.

  He didn’t do this—he never let females top him—he was always in control.

  His hands automatically went to her hips to halt her, to flip her underneath him and take over, but she slid down his length, squeezing her pussy tight again as she rolled her hips and he lost the ability to move.

  “Fuck!” His vision actually blacked out for several seconds.

  He was torn between his need for control and watching her ride him.

  His gaze was drawn to the sexy spitfire riding his cock. The way her skin had turned pink the more aroused she became. The sway of her perfect breasts, those pretty pink nipples so tight and desperate to be sucked. The way her strong thighs flexed as she moved on top of him. The way her abdominal muscles clenched and released as she rolled her sexy hips. And all that blond hair, wild around her face.

  Beautiful. Every inch.

  Her wounds hadn’t healed yet, and the white gauze against her skin had him biting back a snarl.

  There was no taking his eyes off her, not for a moment.

  What had she done to him?

  Her bottom lip was red and puffy from his kisses, from the way she bit it the more turned on she became. His female was perfection in every way, and watching her like this was more than he knew what to do with.

  His hands moved to her tight ass and he gripped it, holding her in place, and began to thrust up when he couldn’t take it anymore. Needing to go deeper. Needing more.

  “Is that a yes, Grace?" he rasped. “You’ll give me this, we’ll give each other this when we need it?” He was almost afraid to hear her answer, but he was starting to believe that she might actually need him as much as he did her.

  She planted her hands on his shoulders, sunk down his cock, and ground harder. Her breath hitched. “Like a booty call?”

  Fuck, he hated that term.

  But if she said no, he didn't know what he'd do. It turned out, being inside her, just being near her, was the only way he could function now. Until things settled down between them at least.

  “If that’s what you want to call it.” His hands tightened on her hips as if holding her to him could make her say yes. He thrust up again, deeper this time. She cried out. "Well?"

  Leaning in, she slid her cheek along his jaw, her hair falling like a silken curtain around them both. "If I agree, it doesn't mean I suddenly answer to you. I still go where I want, with who I want, whenever I want, understand?"

  If that was a deal breaker, he was fucked. "I don't share, Grace,” he said, rocking into her. “I need to be the only male that you're fucking.”

  Her eyes narrowed as her fingernails scored his chest. "And will I be the only female?"

  "Yes," he answered instantly. He didn't want anyone else.

  She looked down, gaze locked on his, something moving deep in her eyes. “I never slept with him, you know. With Oden. If you think I would do that, could do that…I can’t…”

  He jolted beneath her, a rough breath exploding past his lips. Relief washed through him even as he knew it to be true. “I know. I do, Grace.” He was a jealous fucker, but he knew she would never be with a male like that, not for any reason.

  Her lids lowered, eyes bright. “Okay then, yes.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Thank God. The last few days without her had been hell. He'd never in his life felt more out of control. He'd thought staying away from her would help him maintain the self-discipline he lived by, but the mating had messed with him in far more ways than he'd anticipated. Grace was the only thing keeping him sane.

  Then all thought scattered because she was moving faster, her beautiful body undulating on top of him, taking what she wanted, using his body to give herself pleasure. He hungrily ate up the sight of her, satisfaction filling his chest. Watching as she came for him, clamping down hard on his cock, throwing her head back, her long hair brushing the tops of his thighs.

  Fuck, she was magnificent.

  The feel of her body gripping his became too much, and though he wanted to drag this out longer, he didn't fight it. He came hard, pumping his seed deep inside her.

  She collapsed on top of him, and he loved the way her thighs trembled and her panted breaths brushed his throat. His arms came up and wrapped around her, unable to resist holding her close. But she pulled away and slid to the bed beside him. It took all his willpower not to pull her back into his arms and hold her tight to him.

  He turned to her and her eyes were closed, a small smile on her swollen lips. A female well and truly satisfied. His chest swelled along with other parts of his anatomy.

  How could that be possible? He liked fucking as much as the next guy, but this was something else. He was a starving man, and Grace was an all-you-could-eat buffet. He ignored his cock and asked the question that had been plaguing him since the moment he met her.

  "Why do you hate me, Grace?”

  Her eyes flew open, and a shadow moved across them when she turned to him. “I don’t hate you.”

  The anymore hovered between them. “Grace…”

  “I need to get some sleep. You should go." Her gaze darted to the door.

  A cold wash moved through him. Grace trusted him to fuck her to multiple orgasms but not share the secrets that weighed her down. Secrets that had shaped her into the female she had become. Beautiful, strong, sexy, a fucking warrior.

  Secrets that obviously involved him.

  As her mate, he should be the one to make it better for her, to bring her peace from whatever caused her distress, bring her happiness. But that's not what they had. Instead, he’d somehow hurt her, and he needed to know how. “Please, tell me.”

  She rolled away from him and got out of bed, uncaring of her nakedness, and dammit, he wanted her again, badly. She grabbed a T-shirt from her dresser and pulled it over her head. It was worn and faded and had “Linkin Park” scrolled across the front. It barely skimmed the tops of her thighs.

  "Can
you just let this go?"

  He sat up, leaning against the headboard. “You made it clear how much you hated me from the moment I met you. But now we work together. Sleep together. Grace, we need to clear the air for this to work. And honestly, I need to know what the fuck I did or I’ll lose my damn mind.” He forced himself to relax, to appear as nonconfrontational as possible. “I think I deserve to know what I did, don't you?"

  Grace paced away, then back, a look in her eyes that wrenched something deep inside him. Christ, what the fuck was it?

  He felt her distress and pain like it was his own. But he didn't say that, didn't want to freak her out. Their connection was growing every day. A constant torment. He could feel her, but he couldn't touch her when he so desperately wanted to.

  Finally, she sat on a chair in the corner of her room and pulled her legs up, crossing them and tugging the shirt down at the front with one hand to cover herself. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to let the shirt go, to not hide any part of herself from him, but he kept his mouth shut.

  The silence stretched out, and he didn't think she was going to talk, but then she looked up and the pain in her eyes cut him to the bone. Her other hand lifted the gold rings she wore around her neck, and she gripped them tight. "I had a family once."

  His stomach dropped and dread crawled up his throat instantly.

  “My mother and father were both demi. Did you know that? I'm a second-generation demi-demon. I also had a younger brother, Curtis.”

  No, he hadn't known that.

  She gripped the shirt tighter, and he knew instantly it had belonged to her brother. And the rings she always wore had been her mother’s and father’s.

  “Our parents blocked us, kept us safe. Neither my brother nor I had gained our powers, but we felt it, knew there was something there, you know? I guess it’s a second-gen thing? None of the other demi I know experienced it. Whatever it was, because of that, we were able to train to block ourselves even before we got powers, so we could go to school and have actual lives." She glanced up at him. “That’s why I’m so good at blocking. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid.”

  He swallowed hard, knowing what he was about to hear next was going to be bad. “What happened, Grace?" The waves of pain coming off her intensified, making his own chest ache. He wanted to go to her, but she had closed herself off. She didn't want his pity or comfort.

  "We'd both been homeschooled until we were strong enough to hold a secure block. My brother was fifteen when he was able to go to school. He'd made some friends, had a girlfriend.” She bit her lip, her eyes closing for several seconds. “We'd just gotten off the bus and were walking home. We were talking, not paying attention to our surroundings, and Curtis got clipped by a guy on a bike. It knocked him over and he landed weird, breaking his arm badly and hitting his head. He was in a lot of pain, unable to focus on anything else. I felt it…his block dropping. I tried to cover us both, but I was still young and didn’t have my powers. I wasn’t…I wasn’t strong enough."

  Her eyes were haunted. Seeing her in pain was torture.

  "I got him home as fast as I could. I knew once we got there everything would be okay. My parents could cover him." She looked up at him, agony and rage in those beautiful eyes. “Demons. They followed us home."

  Fuck.

  "My dad, he fought, but they were too strong, even against his powers. My mother had a healing power and was defenseless once they killed him. All three of them were slaughtered in front of me...and I... I just ran. I put up the strongest block I could, and I ran." A single tear slid down her cheek, and she brushed it away. "I survived.”

  Fuck, so much worse than he thought. He remembered them. Her family. “Angel…”

  She glanced up again, but she wasn’t really looking at him, she was looking inward. “I went back the next night. I was in denial, didn’t want it to be true, and…you were there.”

  Chaos stilled.

  “You were with Lazarus and Kryos, and I heard you talking. You blamed them. You lifted my brother in your arms, and you were so angry. You said it was my parents’ fault Curtis was dead, that if my father had brought his family to you, they’d all still be alive.” She gripped the fabric of her shirt tighter, her knuckles going white. “My father had lost friends and loved ones to demons. He hated you for that. Convinced himself it was your fault for letting demons into the city. He didn’t trust you or the knights and told us not to, either. And when you blamed my dad, I hated you even more. I convinced myself that it was your fault as well. That they were dead because of you.”

  He wanted to go to her so damn badly. “Grace…”

  “Vince eventually found me on the street, hanging around the club, and offered me a job cleaning. He looked after me, gave me a place to live, protected me."

  His thigh muscles tightened and bunched, wanting to launch himself out of bed and pull her into his arms.

  "That's why I hated you. I blamed you for their deaths. In my mind, it was your fault that I had no one left." She shook her head. “And I stayed angry at you, even when I could see you cared for us demi. When I saw you put everything on the line every time you fought, because I didn’t want to believe it. Believing it would mean letting some of my anger go…letting them go. And I…I didn’t want to be angry at my dad. I didn’t want to blame him—hate him for taking everything from me.” She clenched her teeth.

  He moved then, couldn't stay away another second and strode to her, crouching in front of her chair. "I'm sorry, angel. I’m so fucking sorry.” What else could he say?

  She was shaking her head. “But it wasn’t him, either. My dad loved us. Did the best he could. And you’re right, I’ve been hostile toward you because I used you to feed the rage in me. Directing that anger at you was easier than the truth. But I know it wasn't your fault, Chaos, it wasn't the knights that failed my family.” Her gaze lifted to his, hollow, broken. “It was me. I wasn't strong enough. If I'd been strong enough, if I’d practiced more, like they were always nagging me to... If I’d been able to block us both, my parents would still be here. Curtis would still be here.”

  "No." Grace jolted at his sharp tone, but he couldn't contain it. Now he understood why she fought so hard, why she was so single-minded when it came to killing demons. "You did nothing wrong. Nothing. Baby, you were a kid. Too young and inexperienced to hold that kind of block. Neither you nor your parents could have anticipated what would happen that day. The blame sits squarely on the demons who killed them. No one else.” He took her face in his hands and held her haunted gaze. “What happened was not your fault, do you hear me?”

  A small shaky smile tugged her lips. “So damn bossy.”

  Her skin was smooth and warm beneath his fingers, and he brushed away the single tear that streaked down her cheek. "You should listen to me more. I'm never wrong."

  "Uh-huh. And modest, too.”

  She didn’t believe that it wasn’t her fault, not yet, but he wouldn’t give up until she did. He brushed his thumb across her lips but resisted leaning in and kissing her. “So you don't hate me anymore?"

  “I don't hate you anymore.” Her grin turned wicked, though still wobbly. "But you're still a pain in the ass."

  He couldn't help it, couldn’t resist another moment.

  He leaned in and kissed her.

  Chapter 25

  Grace woke surrounded by Chaos, his massive arms bracketed her body, holding her tight to his chest like he was afraid she'd run away in the night.

  He’d taken her to the compound after they’d spent most of the night hunting the beast. And as soon as they walked through the door to his apartment, they had torn off each other’s clothes and fucked on the floor before finally making it to the bed.

  The intensity of it scared her. But she couldn’t stop it. She was a Chaos addict.

  The male had gotten under her skin; there was no denying it anymore.

  She snuggled into his warmth and shivered, remembering how Chaos had a
sked her with quiet intensity why she hated him. Jesus. She'd spilled her guts, had told him all her deepest, darkest secrets. Had spoken her fears, her true ones that had lived deep inside her for so long. Why had she done that? Shared with him things she'd never told anyone, not even Vince.

  He hadn't looked at her like the coward she'd always believed herself to be, running to save herself when her family had been slaughtered. No, he'd comforted her, and after he'd wiped her tears, he'd carried her back to bed and taken her again, hard and demanding. His dark eyes had been locked on hers the whole time, like he was trying to will her to believe that it hadn’t been her fault.

  Chaos hadn’t treated her like she was some fragile female whose emotions made her weak. He treated her like an equal.

  Later, she'd woken alone, his scent on her sheets, but no sign of the male himself. She’d hated it.

  Not this morning, though. This morning she was in his bed, and he seemed reluctant to let her go.

  Goose bumps prickled over her body despite the heat radiating from his skin. It was too much. He was too much. Everything about him overwhelmed her, overpowered her emotions.

  He’d made it clear he hadn’t liked her dancing in front of a crowd when she’d performed for him. The possessive mated male inside him refused to share her with anyone else, not that she wanted anyone else right now. But she was terrified that if she let him have his way, if she let him take parts of her little by little, there’d be nothing left.

  She'd lose herself. She’d become Chaos’s mate. There would be no more Grace Paten. Before long he’d ask her to stop working at the club. How long before he wanted her to stop fighting?

  Chaos made a rough sound and his hold on her tightened, his warm, bare skin pressed against hers, one heavy thigh shoved between hers.

  She squeezed her lids shut.

  Be strong. You have to be strong.

  He pressed his hot lips against her ear. "What’s going on in that head of yours?"

  "You're awake." Stupid question, he was obviously awake, but he'd taken her by surprise.