Demon Marked

by Anna J. Evans

  He loved Emma, but ... Could he build a life with a woman who lived with a monster locked away inside her? He didn’t know. He only knew that a part of him was almost relieved when his racing heart finally hit the wall. The stillness in his chest was oddly peaceful. Calming. Seductive.

  Andre was dimly aware of Jace shouting and guiding him onto his back on the carpet, but soon his eyes slid closed and the outside world faded away. And then there was only himself, alone, slowly being burned away by the drugs whispering through his system.

  Emma came back to herself just as Jace began rescue breathing. On Andre. Andre wasn’t breathing. She hadn’t saved him. And now the darkness inside her was more formidable than ever. She could feel it surging through her blood, pressing against the inside of her skin, shoving at the boundaries of her flesh in an attempt to make more room for itself.

  “No. No, no, no,” Emma moaned. It was happening. She was becoming a monster, just like her brother.

  “Calm down. You’re going to be okay.” Sam tucked her hair behind her ears, ran soothing hands in circles on her back.

  Sam. Sam and Jace were here. Everything was going to be okay. Emma glanced back at Jace, who was performing chest compressions on his cousin. No. Everything wasn’t going to be okay. Inside her, the darkness squirmed into the base of her brain, making clear thought almost impossible. She’d murdered an entire room full of people, and a few feet away, the man she loved was dying. Nothing was okay.

  “Andre,” she said, grabbing Sam’s arm. “It’s an overdose. They made him swallow Hamma claws. I have to—”

  “Jace already gave him the antivenom. Now, give him space. He knows what he’s doing.” Sam held her in place with a hand on her arm. “We’re going to figure out a way to undo this.”

  “We can’t. Francis killed his father; he—”

  “We know.”

  “How do you—”

  “When I talked to Andre this morning, I could tell something was wrong. We booked a flight right away and were deboarding the plane from Seattle when we got a message from the family Francis was supposed to meet in Vancouver. The crash is all over the news. Then we got your message and headed straight here. I’m just sorry we didn’t get here sooner. Before ...” Sam trailed off, but Emma could guess how her sister would have completed the sentence.

  Before you turned yourself into a monster. For nothing.

  No, it couldn’t be for nothing. Andre had to be okay. She’d make him be okay.

  “I have to go to him.”

  “Emma, no, you—”

  “Let me go, Sam.” Something in her voice must have told Sam that she wouldn’t be taking no for an answer. Her sister released her arm with a sigh, and Emma was off, crawling across the carpet to Andre, a part of her surprised to find that her knee no longer hurt. What the darkness had stolen from those men had healed her, a small drop of goodness in the midst of the awful.

  “Andre. Andre, can you hear me?” She crouched near his head, running a soft hand through his hair, whispering into the shell of his ear. He was so beautiful, even sweaty and covered in spark. It was impossible to imagine a world without him, without his smile and his smart-ass remarks and his touch.

  God, his touch. He might never touch her again. She was a repulsive freak. But that was okay. It would be worth it if Andre lived. He had to live.

  “Andre, please. You have to fight this.” Panic pulsed inside her chest as Jace moved in to give Andre two strong breaths, then moved back to his chest for more compressions, with no noticeable response from his cousin. Andre wasn’t breathing; his heart wasn’t beating. It was only a matter of time before he was gone forever.

  Tears spilled down Emma’s cheeks while the darkness churned and frothed inside her. She could feel the demonic presence pushing at her thoughts, her feelings, her memories, trying to replace her fear with hatred, her sadness with hunger. Connecting to the magic of the spell had given her demon link an incredible surge of power. But it couldn’t consume her completely, not while there was still a chance for Andre. She loved him too much to let the darkness take her over. She had to fight back, had to cling to the human part of her and do everything possible to save his life.

  “I’m going to try to pull some of the drug out of him and into me,” Emma said, threading her fingers into Andre’s hair, hooking up to his mind in the same way she had a few hours before.

  “Can you do that? Is it safe?” Sam sat beside her, watching as the blue light burst from Emma’s hands.

  Sam’s blue eyes flicked from Emma to Andre, supposedly looking for some sign that Emma’s touch was helping or hurting. It was only then that Emma realized her sister was seeing her. Her and Andre. It was a bad sign, but one she struggled to ignore. She had to try to save him, and this was the only thing she could think of that might help.

  Besides, it wasn’t like things could get any worse.

  “I pulled the drug out of two other men. One of them died, but the other one ... I’m not sure about ...” Emma trailed off as she focused her attention entirely on the man beneath her fingertips.

  Memories flowed in from his mind—Andre catching her sneaking out of the strip club, Andre gagged and bound and watching her crumple to the floor after she was shot—but she pushed past them. She didn’t want his memories; she didn’t want to feed on him. She wanted to feed on something else. ...

  Emma closed her eyes, ignoring the sweat that had broken out on her upper lip, struggling to find the toxin floating through Andre’s body. She pictured the pellets of drugs in her mind’s eye, imagining what they must have looked like as they traveled down to Andre’s stomach. For the first few seconds, the visualization did nothing, but then, slowly, Emma became aware of a knot in Andre’s energy, a place where the flow of life force had slowed and cramped around a foreign invader.

  That was it. The Hamma. It had to be. It hadn’t all made it into his bloodstream just yet.

  Carefully, holding on to the sensation, Emma psychically encouraged the knot to open, to give up the poison locked inside. She coaxed and cajoled, kneading at the place with her mind until finally the cramped energy released with a spasm. Emma pounced on the fistful of Hamma, pulling it toward her, imagining the gold poison seeping into her fingers, flooding her with the venom.

  At first, she felt nothing, not even the usual jolt of energy she received from a feeding, but then ... her heart began to speed ... and her stomach cramped, balling into that familiar pit of nasty. Faster and faster, until her pulse beat behind her aching eyes and the world spun in great, throbbing circles.

  Inside her, the darkness howled, protesting the invasion of the poison, screaming that silent scream only she could hear. It rocketed through her mind, fracturing her thoughts, destroying her focus, biting and scraping and clawing away every psychic wall she’d ever erected. Soon, she was aware of only the pain, a pain so horrible there were no words to describe it. And then, even the pain faded as something within her threw up one last frantic barrier, protecting her from the sensation of her brain being shredded to bits.

  She was outside of her body, outside of time, locked away in some secret inner space she hadn’t known existed. But even from that padded room deep in her own mind, she was dimly aware of the sound of a man drawing a deep breath and calling out her name.

  Andre. He was going to live.

  It was her last thought before she collapsed onto the cool, hard floor of her inner prison and fell into a sleep deeper than she’d ever known, so deep she wasn’t sure she’d ever wake up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  She’d risked her life to save his. Willingly, without hesitation. Even if Sam and Jace hadn’t been there to tell him what Emma had done, Andre would have known the truth. He would have sworn he’d sensed Emma with him, heard her voice in his ear, felt the soft brush of her hands against his cheek and the sweep of her spirit inside him. She’d brought him back from the brink of death.

  The second he’d pulled in his first breath, he
’d realized that it didn’t matter if she was part monster. She was Emma, the woman he loved. He knew firsthand what it was like to carry a dark thing inside of him that he was ashamed for anyone else to see. But Emma had seen it and fallen for him regardless. She was brave and beautiful and amazing, and there was no way he was going to let what had just happened change the way he felt.

  So she’d killed some people. She’d only used her power against Little Francis and his men once it was a matter of survival. She’d also saved a hell of a lot of lives. Now it was time for someone to save hers.

  “What are you doing, man?” Jace asked when he scooped Emma into his arms and started for the door. “We shouldn’t move her. She needs an ambulance. You both need—”

  “No. No doctors,” Sam said. “They won’t be able to help her.”

  “But she’s full of venom. She needs antivenom, and I used the last of it on—”

  “The antivenom poisons her.” Andre turned back to Sam and Jace. “It doesn’t help. She has to feed in order to get the Hamma out of her system.”

  “Then let her suck the life out of Francis.” Jace motioned to where their cousin still lay motionless on the floor. “You almost died, Andre, and what Emma does takes years off of people’s lives. Sometimes it even—”

  “I know, Jace. We’ve found another way for her to feed, a way that doesn’t seem to do any damage.”

  “What? But she—”

  “Let them go, Jace. I can’t see Andre anymore, and I’d like the same to be true for Emma.” Sam’s fear for her sister was clear in her voice. “Take care of her, Andre. ... I’m afraid the Hamma’s going to kill her.”

  “It won’t.” Andre kicked open the door and headed out into the hall. He had to find someplace private, safe. The family apartments on either side of the hall would be perfect. Sure, the hallway was full of men stunned out of their minds and twitching on the floor, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  He stepped over a lifeless-looking Dr. Finch—half hoping Jace had killed the bastard—and into a room with a queen-sized bed and its own bathroom. Andre locked the door behind them and hurried into the bath, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw the giant tub dominating one corner of the room. Exactly what he was looking for.

  Emma’s arms were covered with gold dust from the sparking. She was beginning to look like a life-sized Academy Award. He had to get the Hamma residue off her skin. Hopefully that would help her body flush out the toxin. A bath and some food and she’d be fine. She had to be fine.

  Emma moaned softly and her eyelashes fluttered as he set her down on the toilet seat and reached over to start the water.

  “Emma? Are you awake? Can you hear me?” he asked, his heart racing when she moaned again and wrapped her limp arms around his neck.

  “Bad ... so bad.” She slumped against his shoulder as if she lacked the strength to hold up her head. Which she probably did. He’d never seen anyone spark so bright. Most people would have died before they processed this much Hamma.

  “It’s okay. You’re going to feel better in a few minutes,” Andre promised, willing himself to believe his own words.

  He swiftly and efficiently stripped away Emma’s clothes—shocked to see her bullet wound had completely healed—and lifted her again, settling her into the bathwater. She slid down, resting her head against the sloped side of the tub, trailing her fingers through the water lapping softly around her thighs.

  Andre looked down, momentarily frozen by the sight of the woman he loved completely nude for the first time. God, she was so beautiful, pale and smooth and shimmering like some sort of goddess, too gorgeous to be real, too perfect to touch. Her teacupsized breasts turned up toward the ceiling, pale nipples pulled tight in the air-conditioned room. She was smaller than any woman he’d been with in recent memory, but her tits made him crazy. He was dying to kiss along that achingly soft skin, to take one pink tip in his mouth and then the other, to suck and nibble until she writhed beneath him, begging him to push inside her.

  “Yes. Please ...”

  Andre’s eyes flew to meet Emma’s, shocked to find her watching him with the hint of a smile on her tired face and desire in her honey-colored eyes. He hadn’t really expected what they were about to do to be particularly pleasurable for either of them. He’d assumed he’d be too afraid for Emma, and Emma ... well, he’d assumed she was too far gone to feel much of anything except the desire to live. The fact that she could still want him—that she could reach for him with her trembling arms—blew him away.

  His throat clenched tight and his hands shook as he stripped off his shirt and pants and made quick work of the underwear Emma had teased him about earlier in the day. As he eased into the water beside her, pulling her into his arms, he prayed she’d be making fun of him again soon. He wanted to spend the rest of their lives together fighting over stupid things like boxers versus briefs, making love and memories that had nothing to do with death.

  The energy she’d pulled from the men in the circle was still at work within her—doing its best to banish the drugs that threatened her survival—but Emma couldn’t say for sure whether it was that energy or the sound of Andre’s voice that had brought her back from the edge. All she knew was that the second Andre’s skin touched hers, she felt stronger, cleaner, closer to the land of the living. His warm hands gripped her hips and moved her through the water, up and over, until she laid on top of him, her back against his chest, her ass nestled close to where he was already thicker, harder.

  But not quite hard enough ...

  “Don’t be scared of me,” she whispered, laying her hands gently on top of his, sighing when he smoothed his palms up her ribs to hover just beneath her breasts.

  “I’m not. I love you.” His pressed a soft kiss to her throat, his lips lingering to feel her pulse speed beneath her skin.

  “Even after . . . what you saw?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He reached for the soap in the dish. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up.”

  “Are you sure? It doesn’t disgust you?” Emma sucked in a breath as Andre’s soapy hands ran up and down her arms before moving back to her ribs, teasing closer and closer to where her nipples ached for his touch.

  “It scared me at first,” he said, his voice strong and steady, even when he captured her nipples in his soapy hands and tugged. Slick skin slipped through his fingers, but he found her sensitive flesh again and again, rolling and plucking and teasing until her head fell back onto his shoulder with a moan. “But you could never disgust me. Ever.”

  Emma arched, rubbing her bottom against where Andre was harder, hotter, before lifting one leg from the water and watching him soap her up from thigh to toe. “But I—”

  “You didn’t choose to carry that thing inside you, and you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. Killing people who are trying to kill you is self-defense.” He finished with one leg and urged her to lift the other. As she shifted and her thighs brushed together, Emma gasped aloud. She was so wet, past ready to have Andre inside her. “That thing is like a cancer. But we’re going to send it into remission.”

  “Yes.” Emma’s fingers dug into the thick muscles of Andre’s arms as he lifted his hips, carrying her completely out of the water, giving him access to the last bit of un-soaped Emma.

  His touch was light, a whisper between her legs, teasing in and out of her swollen folds, making her even slicker before he dropped his hips and water rushed over her thighs. Emma moaned in protest, but before she could complete the sound, he’d dropped the soap back in the dish and lifted her again. His strong hands claimed a thigh each and spread her wide, lifting her knees up and out, baring her to him in a way that was almost lewd ... and entirely arousing.

  “You have the most beautiful pussy.” His voice was thick and rough, his breath hot against her neck as he brushed his thumbs down her outer lips, pulling them gently apart, baring the slick, pink cleft of her core to his touch. His finger tapped softly against her swollen clit—once
, twice—making her breath hitch and things low in her body tighten. “After we’re finished here, I’m going to take you into the bed in the next room and taste you. I want to—”

  “I want you. Now,” Emma said, a shudder running through her entire body as Andre shifted his hips and his cock sprung up between her legs.

  He was so hard that little veins stood out along the length of him, turning his shaft nearly purple. The sight of him, so engorged and ready, his thickness nestled against where she was slick and wet, made her hotter than she would have dreamed possible. She’d nearly died today. Several times. But with Andre so close—his warm skin pressed to hers, the safety of his body cradling her own—that didn’t seem to matter. She wanted him for reasons that had nothing to do with needing to purge the Hamma from her system.

  “You want me?” His fingers teased through her swollen flesh again, then moved to circle her clit, drawing a raw sound of need from her throat.

  “Yes. Fuck me, please, just—” Emma cried out as Andre reached down and guided his cock inside her. He pushed all the way to the end of her body, filling her in a different way than it had the other times they’d made love. The tip of his cock bumped against a new place, a bundle of nerves that sent a jolt of electricity surging through her. Emma’s back arched and her breasts thrust toward the ceiling.

  She gasped, and her breath rushed out. “I thought the G-spot was a myth.”

  “That’s okay. I thought aura demons were a myth,” Andre whispered into her ear as he pulled back until only the tip of him remained inside her heat. “We’ve both been mistaken once or twice today.”

  Something in his voice made her think of the memory she’d seen in his mind, the one of him watching her sneak away from Boudreaux’s. She tensed, holding herself away from him when he tried to move. “I’m sorry I lied to you again. I just wanted to try to fix things. I didn’t want you to have to hurt anyone, especially your family. I didn’t mean to—”