Creed

by Marie Johnston

He found her wet center. Heat surrounded his fingers, her folds welcoming him. The tip of one finger rested below her clit and whenever she shifted her hips, it stroked the nub.

  Her moan made him grin.

  “I need to taste you,” he said, his voice gruff to his own ears.

  She looked at him through hooded lids and slowly tilted her neck.

  “Not like that.”

  Her pupils flared before he lifted her. She gasped, her hands flying to the wall behind the chair to steady herself.

  With her knees propped on either side of his head, her sex landed exactly where he wanted it.

  “Oh god, Creed. Yes.”

  Her tone was thick with desire, and that was all the encouragement he needed. Holding her in place, enjoying her trembling with anticipation, he licked along her seam until he found her clit.

  She cried out and would’ve fallen if it weren’t for his grip.

  He was ruthless. For now, he couldn’t remember why he had to be fast, but he only felt the urgency and nothing else.

  He licked and nibbled. She writhed and bucked. When she came, she shouted his name—then he nicked her sensitive flesh with a fang.

  Her shout turned into a scream of complete pleasure. She arched back. His hands dug into her thighs, but he didn’t let up.

  Not until she almost fell backward did he finally release her, letting her slide bonelessly down him until she was cradled in his lap.

  “How could that be possible?” she mumbled into his neck. “Like, that was a really strong orgasm.”

  His male pride soared. He’d float away if it weren’t for his throbbing cock begging for relief.

  Her eyes fluttered open. The green flecks glowed, but before her demonic traits talked some sense into him, she slithered down his lap. Her knees planted on the floor, and she yanked at the seam of his shorts.

  “What are you…?” He couldn’t finish. Because he really wanted her to keep going.

  “I’m up two orgasms and you haven’t had a one.” She pouted, and it was the sexiest thing—ever. Or it was her kneeling in front him, willing to pleasure him, that he found answered all his fantasies. “I want to keep our relationship balanced.”

  The word “relationship” niggled his brain, but then her fingers grazed his cock and his hips thrust up into her grasp.

  She freed him and eyed his length with hunger in her gaze.

  Yes. Oh, please—yes.

  She stroked him once. Twice.

  He groaned and rocked himself into her grip. But when she licked her lips and lowered her head, he froze. He quit breathing, everything went still.

  Those cherry red lips opened, tips of fangs peeked out and she licked the tip of his shaft.

  “Fuck.” He blew all the air out of his lungs and dragged in another breath. Would she do it again? He’d beg.

  Her lips stretched around him. His head fell back on the chair, but he couldn’t quit watching her.

  More of his cock disappeared into the sweltering heat of her mouth. A fang grazed his over-sensitized skin.

  Have mercy—do it again.

  She did it again.

  His climax was too damn close, but bringing her to orgasm twice had cost him too much control. He wanted to savor this forever, but his dick demanded release.

  “Melody,” he panted, “I can’t…I’m gonna…” Another groan. “Don’t stop.”

  The wet heat of her mouth pleasured him; her tongue massaged a path up and down his shaft and flicked the crown of his cock.

  His hands dug into the fabric of the chair, his hips thrust so hard he almost threw them both off the chair.

  If she did that again, he was going to—

  With a shout and no time to warn her, he spilled his release.

  She drank him all down, the movement of her throat extending the length of his climax.

  Whatever was coming out of his mouth didn’t make sense. It was gibberish. The sensation didn’t end.

  Her head bobbed, her tongue stroked and… Another orgasm was going to hit.

  She was serious about being equal. He was grateful, but how was that possible?

  Of course he could have more than one orgasm in a day, he was a vampire. But more than one in a minute? Was he back to his pubescent years where the view of an ankle was enough to set him off?

  He buried his hands in her hair and lifted it off her neck. Her horns hadn’t budged. They hadn’t needed to. He would be ready for Melody anytime, anywhere. And that was before she had commanded his libido with nothing more than a flick of her tongue.

  He allowed his head to fall back, missing the sensual picture of her nude body draped over him, her cheeks hallowed over his length. But the build to his next orgasm robbed him of strength. He cradled her head and gave himself to her.

  The second peak hit and he arched back, gritting his teeth at the force.

  Was she going to— Yes. She swallowed him again.

  How was he ever going to let her go? It wasn’t easy before with her sweet personality and her innocent nature; he could shut the primal part of himself down and think realistically.

  But she’d taken command of his baser self and made every molecule inside of him crave her.

  He didn’t want to let her go. Ever.

  She released him. He pried his eyes open. His shaft glistened and bobbed. He was still hard because no matter how glorious her mouth was, he yearned to claim her like a real mate.

  Like a real mate.

  This was supposed to be a simple business deal, nothing more.

  But when she wiped off her mouth, her expression awed at what just transpired, he couldn’t kid himself that no matter how hard he tried, nothing between him and Melody was a simple anything.

  Her look intensified. She began to prowl up his lap.

  Hell, he should stop her, but he was seconds away from being buried inside of her.

  He watched her ascent.

  A hard knock at the door stopped them both.

  “Creed,” Demetrius barked from the other side.

  Creed froze, and he expected Melody to scurry off his lap and find clothes. Instead, her upper lip curled and a fang descended.

  He meant to chide her for her reaction, tell her to control herself like she had to learn to do, but he pulled her in for a quick kiss. She melted into him and her fangs retreated to normal size. The fact that she had fangs was the reason Demetrius was here.

  Creed pulled away and helped her stand. He rose with her. “Go find some clothes. I’ll get the door.”

  She nodded, threw a glare at the entrance of her apartment, and sauntered out of the room. He sensed nothing unstable from her as she disappeared.

  Creed brushed his hair off his face, adjusted his clothing, hoped blood drained from his shaft soon, and answered the door.

  Chapter Eight

  Demetrius’s nostrils flared as soon as Creed opened the door.

  Creed let him in, trying not to cower in his epic fuckup that felt too right to be a mistake.

  “New developments since I was last updated?” Demetrius went to sit on the recliner, but his nostrils flared as if the stench of sex had slapped him the face. He edged toward the couch and nailed Creed with his disappointed gaze.

  “It just happened.” Ugh. It was like confronting his father after his rendezvous with the human girl who’d changed the course of his life.

  “I get it.”

  Creed shot him a seriously look. How could it be that easy?

  Demetrius inclined his head. “There’s no use berating you for it. It’s done. We both know it’ll complicate things. Now, give me the report.”

  Creed filled him in on the bond and Melody’s new second-tier devotees. They were the game-changing events to have happened since Quution had returned from his report.

  Melody bounced in as he was wrapping up. His mouth went dry, but he managed to keep talking. Her hip-hugging jeans and hiking boots shouldn’t look so enticing, but on her they did. Her ghastly shirt that s
aid “This rack isn’t for display” hugged her chest so snugly he struggled to keep his gaze off it.

  “You’re afraid the power’s too much for her?” Demetrius asked.

  She stood back from them, her arms folded over that ridiculous shirt. A light brow lifted as if she waited for his answer.

  He looked her directly in the eye and answered Demetrius. “Yes. Since the bond, there are moments where I can feel how overpowering it is for her.”

  “That’s not the only thing you felt,” she retorted, but hurt simmered in the blue of her gaze.

  Demetrius cast her a curious look. “And you think differently?”

  “Yes,” she said with full authority, but her expression didn’t match. “No. I mean, I feel the power. And it’s strong. But I haven’t ripped off anyone’s head for hours. I think I’m adjusting.”

  Demetrius blinked at her. Creed wanted to massage his temples. A killer headache was beginning at the reminder of what she’d done to him and a few others.

  “Are you saying you want to keep the powers?” Demetrius kept his tone even. Smart male.

  Melody shifted her weight. “I guess if it’s the horns or my life, well, even at the worst I didn’t want to die.”

  “What if you threaten innocents?”

  Melody’s determination wavered, uncertainty sprung in her gaze. “Of course I don’t want that. If I do, then what? Off with my head?”

  Creed’s gaze flew to Demetrius. They’d do everything they could to save her. Wouldn’t they?

  His friend’s expression was grave. “Protecting our kind, from ourselves and others, and keeping the secret of us from humans is paramount. Yes, if you threaten that you will be dealt with. How, I can’t say. It’s situation dependent.”

  “Situation dependent,” she echoed with a dark laugh. Throwing her hand up when Demetrius was going to say more, she shook her head. “I’m throwing my tarp over it. You boys sit here and save the world. I’m going to bed and trying not to gut anyone.”

  She stomped out.

  Creed watched her exit until the door slammed shut. A wake of anger lingered behind her. He hated to meet his friend’s gaze.

  “You’re right. She’s changed. What did she mean by tarp?”

  “No clue. A metaphor perhaps?” He missed her incessant chatter. He missed her bright spark of personality. He missed when his only worry was her dying of old age.

  Demetrius sat forward and folded his hands. His presence was less friendly and more commanding. “Keep her here. Make sure she doesn’t gut anyone. When you can’t be on duty, Fyra or Zoey will take over.”

  “If she could talk to Grace, it might help her reconnect with her humanity.” Grace was a vampire, but she and Melody were close. The reminder of normalcy, maybe some girl talk, would be good for Melody.

  “Not a chance. Grace isn’t a trained fighter. I can’t risk her safety, and I wouldn’t do that to Rourke.”

  How would Melody react when she heard that?

  Yeah, he wouldn’t tell her. Back to the problem of her power. “Is Calli having any luck searching the tome?” Their biggest advantage over the underworld—their own personal how-to demon book.

  “No. Demons are a greedy bunch. When they have the power, they don’t want others knowing how to get it back. And since they don’t want the underworld knowing they’re breeding babies just to steal power, I foresee it being a real struggle to find a way to do it without costing the host. Callista even warned us about spells with hidden traps. All involved could get killed.”

  “Fucking demons.”

  “Yep. Another thing,” Demetrius said. “Can we trust Quution?”

  “Why? Did something happen?”

  D shook his head. “Not yet. I trust Fyra’s intentions, maybe not her accuracy. But Stryke and Quution are new to our team, sort of, since they are their own team.” His forehead creased. “I want to be certain about them. By working with us, they have a lot of access to our realm, and our loved ones.”

  Ah. Loved ones. As their resident demon expert, and Demetrius’s mate, Calli might be working with Quution more than the rest of them.

  Creed thought about the last couple of weeks. “I can’t speak for his motivations, but he seems to have formed a soft spot around Melody.” Creed touched the tip of a fang with his tongue. “He wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to change the hierarchy in the underworld. Why? I can’t know, but he does seem to despise those who are needlessly cruel.”

  “We just need to find a way to keep him in check down there. Maybe I just can’t wrap my head around trusting a demon with the entire realm, or maybe he’s using us to pursue his own agenda.”

  “For now, our goals seem to align,” Creed agreed.

  “Exactly. But I’m not helping him take down the rest of the circle just to be stuck up here twiddling our thumbs while he does what he wants.”

  “They’ll know Hypna’s dead by now.”

  “And they’re going to plan their own replacement. We need to have one of ours poised and ready to strike.”

  “Melody got them thinking it can be her.” It was a complication he didn’t want to deal with.

  “It can’t be her. She’ll get herself killed. We’ll find someone else.”

  Creed didn’t say anything. They both knew they had zero contacts in the underworld other than Quution, who was actually a second-tier.

  “Fuck.” Demetrius slapped his thighs and stood up. “I’m calling a meeting with the energy brothers. When they arrive, I’ll send Fyra to trade with you.”

  And leave Melody’s side. He rebelled at that, but he couldn’t be attached to her. The meeting would likely involve her, too, and he’d make sure he was there as they were deciding her future.

  ***

  Melody glared at her bedroom door. Demetrius had left, and she’d fallen asleep. Then woke up after a few hours.

  At no point had Creed ventured back to the bedroom. He hadn’t peeked in on her, or even tapped on the door and gave her a “how ya doing?”

  Cowardly male.

  She fumed until she thought steam would billow out of her ears. Guess Creed and her mom had tons in common. They both thought she should be left out of all decisions, big or little. Her mom hadn’t even told her she had cancer. Melody had been twenty-two, pulling a shift at the sporting goods store, when her mom’s best friend called with the news. Melody hadn’t had a part in the funeral or the arrangements. At the time, she’d been so devastated and torn, unsure of how to identify what she was feeling, she hadn’t noticed the slight.

  But she did now. The present was highlighting all the slights in her past, like the negative emotions getting thrown up in her brain had all been there festering and waiting for the right moment to strike when she let her happy guard down.

  Maintaining her optimism used to be easy, until this demon ordeal. It was like it flipped the lid off the barrel she hid all the ugliness in. She might have to turn her mental tarp that covered her black pit of emotion in to steel. Controlling herself around the conflict Creed caused inside of her and battling old memories might be too much when she was supposed to be gaining more control over this power.

  She squeezed her eyes shut against the angst her mom’s memory brought. The familiar bitterness and constant sorrow she’d thought she’d moved past.

  There was a knock so loud on the front door that she heard it clearly in her bedroom.

  “It’s Fyra!” the demoness called, also loud enough for her to hear.

  What would Fyra being doing here?

  Creed must’ve let her in because the demoness’s voice grew louder.

  “Hey, Hypna 2.0? Are you doing okay in there? The south wall of the compound is crawling in vines.”

  Some of Melody’s rage simmered down. Fyra had come down here to inquire about her? That was new. And not unpleasant.

  Then Fyra’s question sank in. Oh shit.

  Blue tarp, blue tarp. She envisioned tossing the tarp over the pit to smother her emoti
ons. Think mellow thoughts. When she thought of Creed, her mental dam disappeared like it’d never been there.

  She had to find another way to deal with her fury before it dug its figurative claws in her and didn’t let go. Lost in a trance like that for too long and she’d have covered the entire compound.

  Flinging the door open, she strode out. The curvaceous demon was snooping around her place while Creed was still posted by the door. A thrill traveled through Melody when Creed’s gaze landed on her. The minutes in his arms, completely uninhibited, and more exposed than she’d ever been with a man—and she wasn’t a virgin—had made her feel alive, like everything was going to be okay. Because they were together, a two-person team.

  His gaze slid away after a second and she crumpled inside. Foolish, foolish girl. She hadn’t been enough for him.

  “I’m fine. Thank you so much for asking.” She shot Creed a pointed stare, but he continued to avoid looking at her. From the rigid set of his shoulders, he was acutely aware of her.

  “I’ve got a meeting. Fyra’s going to hang out with you until I get back.”

  He was gone before she could inquire further.

  Hurt ricocheted through her. Why couldn’t she be as important to those who were most important to her?

  “Well, that was abrupt.” Fyra strutted into the kitchen, her red hair shining like a well-fueled campfire. The slinky dress she wore probably drove her mate wild.

  The envy Melody experienced wasn’t any better than rage. Strong, heated like an oven, the moment of jealousy caused her claws to extend.

  Fyra turned to her with wide eyes. “Bollocks. You really are one of us now, aren’t you?”

  She sashayed back to Melody and grasped her hand to inspect her claws. “They grow and retract? Handy.” She dropped her hand and went back to the kitchen. “Betty said she stocked your kitchen for when you returned. You know what that means? Goodies.” She opened the cupboards and searched through them. “Who the hell wants bread at a time like this?”

  “Try the freezer.” Melody relaxed, feeling more like herself than when Creed was around. “Betty remembers the days of no freezers and gets a kick out of baking in mass quantities. All the goods she brings for the boys are frozen—cookies, pies, even cakes.”