by Deanna Chase
Ever present grief speared her. What was she thinking? The whole concept was ridiculous. So why did it feel like she was on the right track to an ever elusive happiness? One where she could again be with Tim.? Tears crowded her eyes and she fell onto her side and wept into her pillow. When she couldn’t cry anymore, she pried open her puffy, aching eyes.
From its perch on the nightstand, the purple monkey, in all its colorful glory, stared at her.
Chapter 3
Emily sat up and swept the monkey into her shaking hands. This was treasure. The only bright spot since the accident. It appeared to be the right height and width for the alcove in her dream. But how would she find the crypt?
“I’m going crazy,” she whispered to the monkey.
No, it seemed to whisper back. You’re beautiful and sweet and luscious. Release me, my darling Emily, and I will worship you.
“Is that really you, Tim?” She closed her eyes and laughed. “Now I’m talking to inanimate objects. God, I’m losing it.”
Trace the lines, came the whisper again. You can unlock my prison. I will taste you and touch you. I will prove my worth to you, and we can be together.
Nearly an hour had passed since she’d awoken from the nightmare. Maybe she was still in it—a more pleasant alternative than going insane. Only everything but the monkey statue was gray, indicating that she was wide awake. Emily picked up the purple figure, turned it around, and put the tip of her forefinger at the top of the yellow line. She couldn’t deny that the red line had disappeared after she touched it, just like she couldn’t deny that she’d been seduced by …something.
“Can you take me to Tim?” she asked, her voice raspy. “If I do as you say, can I see him?”
If that is what you wish.
Emily would trade her own soul to see Tim one more time. Maybe she had gone Looney Tunes, but she didn’t care. A cheap, purple monkey couldn’t hurt her.
She slid her finger down the yellow line.
Electricity jolted through her. The statue fell from her hands to the carpet, and Emily fell backwards onto the bed.
Delicious, sensual fire rolled over her. Ghostly hands and an invisible mouth touched her everywhere—from the sensitive hollow at the base of her throat to the undersides of her ankles. Hot breath on her thighs. Palms cupping her breasts. Lips sliding over one shoulder, while a million tiny fingers stroked her arms, stomach, thighs.
Then fingers dipped through her curls to tease her swelling clit.
“It’s not real,” she said. “You’re not real.”
“Yes,” answered a deep voice. “I am.”
Her eyes flew open, but the man above her wasn’t quite solid. And he wasn’t Tim! He was big and muscled, his hair so long it waterfalled onto her arms.
“This …isn’t right. ”
“Is no sacrifice too great for your beloved?” he asked silkily. “I am trapped by my sins of lust. Only lust can release me. You want me …I can feel your desperate desire. Oh, how you want me.”
The protest died on her lips. She did want this stranger …this half-shadowy man with his secrets. Am I crazy? Guilt stabbed her as she thought about Tim and her love for him. But it had been too long since anyone had held her, had made love to her. She missed Tim so much. And now, whether in her mind or dreams, lust burned bright and hot, and she wanted to feel its power. She wanted to give in to it.
“Yes,” whispered Shadow Man. “Give in, my darling Emily.”
Her lover slid down her body. He nibbled on her hips and licked her belly. His tongue dipped into her navel and tasted the moisture pearled there. He slid lower still. His hands snaked around her thighs and he pressed his mouth against her wet core.
She gasped. Her fingers dove into his silky hair, and she tugged lightly. He lifted his head. She looked down at him and met his glittering dark gaze. “Do it again.”
“What?”
“Pull my hair. Hard.”
Emily’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t know what to make of his request. It was an odd thing to want. All the same …she grabbed two handfuls of his wonderful hair and yanked.
He groaned then he returned to his torturously erotic attention between her thighs. His wicked tongue darted in and out of her wet heat, the strokes rough and fast.
Bliss coiled tight and hot. Just as an orgasm threatened to overwhelm her, her lover pulled away.
“Damn it!” she cried. “No!”
Chuckling, he inserted two fingers into her then started licking her again. The thrusts of his fingers matched those of his tongue. Her pleasure coiled tighter and tighter, but just as she might’ve gone over again, he withdrew.
Frustration rolled through Emily, but not for long. He climbed over her, his hard body sliding oh-so-sensually against her. He teased her entrance with the head of his shaft.
Doubt crept into her pleasure. Something about making love to this …this creature seemed wrong. Even as her lust consumed her, she couldn’t help but feel she was spiraling into the dark.
Slowly, he pushed inside her. She shuddered at the sensual feel of his flesh penetrating hers. There was a brief moment of guilt for this minor betrayal of her dead fiancé. All she had now were memories. She’d lived in shadows of a lost love for a long time, so why was it surprising she’d found a shadow man to share her bed?
“Emily,” he whispered. Her name was wrapped in his desire, and it snapped her attention back to pleasure. His hands curled under her shoulders as he moved inside her. It felt as if he lived for her pleasure, for her need.
She squeezed her eyes shut as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She gripped his shoulders, urging him deeper. She sucked in a steadying breath. Oh, God. It felt so good. He felt good.
Her tender breasts rubbed against his bare chest, her distended nipples received electric thrills with every hard thrust.
Expertly, her lover rocked his hips, thrusting with just enough force to drive her body to ecstasy. She clenched around him as she flew over the edge.
His teeth scraped her neck. His groan was a low rumble …more like a growl. Finally, her lover thrust deeply and came hard. His growl deepened as he loosed his hot seed.
Emily looked into his gaze, still riding the last wave of her orgasm. She saw the red glow in his dark eyes. His smile was filled with rows of sharp teeth and his skin was black as obsidian. Cold fear banked the embers of her lust. He was solid now—as solid as she was.
“Oh, my God,” she yelled, pushing at his shoulders. He didn’t budge. “What the hell are you?”
***
“I promise you things are different this time,” said Roc. “Protections are in place, and we have High Council members you’ll trust.”
“Wrong,” said Angel. They sat in her dark office. She’d failed to find chocolate, not even in her secret spot. Damn Graddie. He was a bigger chocolate whore than she was. Sighing, she leaned back in her office chair. “Are you going to leave anytime soon?”
“I was thinking …never.” The sparkly on the top of Roc’s staff (har de har) emitted the only light. “Don’t you enjoy modern conveniences?”
“Yes,” said Angel. “I enjoy them very much. What I don’t enjoy is annoying men parading around with phallic symbols.”
“You get many of those?” he asked deadpan. He rubbed the silver staff suggestively and waggled his brows at her.
“You’re incorrigible,” she said, trying not to laugh. She would not allow herself to like him. He was the enemy. He was with the High Council, and she knew from her mother what assholes they were …or least, what assholes they had been. Her father, who was a half-demon, had been indentured to them. After the Council disbanded, its slaves had been released.
“Ooooh. You brought me eye candy,” said Graddie as he sashayed into the office. He was leaning slightly to the left and had a canary-who-ate-the-cream grin. He toddled over and collapsed onto the red velvet couch he’d purchased for “clients.” Since they rarely had clients, Graddie had claimed the mon
strosity for his own, which had been his intention anyway. He loved expensing furniture for their business.
“So, who’s the yum?” Graddie asked. He crossed his legs and looked at Roc critically. Then he sighed dramatically. “Straight. Too bad.” He waved his manicured hands around. “I guess you can have him, Angel.”
“Gee, thanks.” Angel rolled her eyes. “What happened to you?
“Turns out the bartender at Dusky’s loved what was under my skirt. And I didn’t pay for my drinks all night.”
She gaped at him. “Slut! You got laid and free drinks? You need to shoot for the trifecta, and go buy a lottery ticket.”
“If you would make clients pay actual money, I wouldn’t need to hit the lottery.” Graddie’s drunken gaze slid over Roc again. “So who’s the hottie? Introduce us already. Is he a client? Oh please, please, please be a client!”
“He’s my new Guardian,” said Angel in a saccharine tone. “And the minion of the new Otherworld High Council.”
“I’m not a minion,” insisted Roc.
“I could probably absorb this information better if we could turn on the lights. And had the ability to make coffee.” Graddie rubbed his temples. “Yes, I do believe our conversation will require heavy amounts of sobering caffeine. Oh, electricity, how I miss you!”
“Shut up, Graddie.” Angel felt her face go hot. She sure as hell didn’t feel like she had to impress Roc, but she didn’t want him to know her financial woes, either. She could take care of herself, damn it. Even if the evidence was stacked against her in the form of a pile of overdue bills in her desk drawer.
“You don’t have electricity?” asked Roc, his dark eyebrows winging upward. He pulled a cell phone out of his front pocket and hit a single number. “I’m at the office of Demon Hunters, Inc. Get us electricity. Take care of everything related to this office and to Miss Mortis …and to her partner, Mr. Bradenton.”
Five minutes later, the lights flickered on. Her computer re-booted. And the rest of the office machines beeped to electronic life.
Graddie looked pleased. “Oh, let’s keep him, Angel. He’s magic.”
“Not the adjective I would use,” she muttered, trying hard to act like she wasn’t impressed.
“I’ll make the coffee now.” Graddie crossed to the back of the office and entered the door on the far left that led to their very small break room. He shut the door, a not-so-subtle hint that he planned to leave her alone with Fix-It Boy.
“I didn’t ask you to solve my problems,” said Angel, “so I don’t owe you. You wanna play Robin Hood, that’s okay by me. But don’t expect compensation.”
“Or thanks, apparently.”
Angel stood up and turned to face him. She looked him in the eyes—his damn twinkling green eyes—and managed through clenched teeth to utter, “Thanks.”
“Wow. Could you at least try to fake sincerity?”
“Whatever.” She tried to push past him, but he grabbed her arm and yanked her against him. He tossed the staff to the red couch then grabbed her free arm. He pinned her hands to his chest.
“You need to work on your manners.”
Angel’s gaze dipped to his luscious mouth. Oh, she shouldn’t be looking at him like that. And her heart shouldn’t have thundered in her chest. And she shouldn’t have been the teeniest bit attracted to him. “Are good manners required of demon hunters?”
“No, but most human beings seem to enjoy common courtesy.”
She laughed. “I’m not human.”
“You are a woman,” he breathed, leaning down to nuzzle her neck. “And I’m a man.”
“I’m so glad we’ve clarified our genders.” Angel figured she should pull out of his embrace and probably punch him for daring to assume she’d even consider sleeping with him. It had been a while since she’d been with anyone. Being close to a strong man like Roc was an aphrodisiac. Rare was the man who could keep her interest, much less satisfy her.
Somehow, she knew that Roc would. He might be the kind of man she never got enough of …the kind of man that would never want to tame her, but could match her in every way. Could bring her to heights of pleasure she fantasized about. Could...
Oh, shit. She was in trouble with a capital T.
“I see your dilemma,” he said, lifting his head to stare at her. “You can’t decide if you want to kill me …or fuck me.”
“I could fuck you then kill you.”
His lips pulled into an arrogant grin. “Let’s do the first, and then decide from there if you want to try the second.”
Chapter 4
“Maybe I will,” Angel said breathlessly, her lips within tantalizing reach of Roc’s.
He released her suddenly, and she stumbled backward. Damn it. He’d switched tactics. She wanted to be the one to pull away and give a sassy retort. Instead, she was heated and flustered as she watched him walk to the couch, push the staff over, and sit down.
“You haven’t asked me about the new members of the High Council.”
“Because I don’t care.” Angel was tired of their game. She was also unaccountably stung by Roc’s careless rejection. He seemed hot for her one minute, and then treated her like a speck on his shoe the next. She really wanted to stab him with something sharp.
Instead, Angel sat down at her desk and dragged the overflowing inbox toward her. She had reports to input and printouts to file. Neither she nor Graddie enjoyed the mundane tasks that came with operating a business, so they both ignored it all. But anything was better than lusting after Roc—even completing databases on closed cases.
Silence filled up the room as the minutes passed. Graddie had either passed out in the break room or decided to raid the refrigerator. She wondered if he’d found chocolate.
“You’re stubborn,” said Roc.
“A quality we obviously share.” She pulled another file from the inbox and flipped it open. Faced with the handwritten reports taken months ago from clients she couldn’t remember well, Angel threw in the towel. She swiveled the office chair to face Roc. “Okay, I give. Who’s on the new High Council?”
Roc opened his mouth to answer then hesitated. He canted his head, as if listening, and then he frowned. He stood up, grabbing the staff. “How long does it take for your partner to make coffee?”
Angel shrugged. “Graddie likes a lot of frou-frou with his caffeine. I think he secretly believes he’s a barista.”
Roc strode across the room and opened the door to the tiny kitchen with its single table and two chairs. Angel followed him, suddenly worried. Roc swung his arm out to stop her from entering, but she ducked under and stepped inside.
Graddie lay on the floor. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he had passed out from his booze ‘n love fest, but his body was too still, his face overly pale. She squatted next to him and rolled him over.
“Graddie? Graddie!”
***
Emily stood at the entrance to the crypt. It was already dark, and it had begun to rain. The cold drops clung to her lashes and rolled down her cheeks. She pushed on the metal gate barring the entrance and it swung open easily. She hurried inside, and stopped. Once again, lit candles in wall sconces offered dim light. And there, the altar was right where it should be. If I put the monkey in its altar, I’ll see Tim.
She unzipped her purse and pulled out the garish ceramic statue. Hands trembling, she brought it to the edge of the stone of platform. The statue slipped. She screamed as it tumbled to the stone floor and shattered.
“Nooooooooo!” Emily shot up, the covers falling away from her nude body. As the nightmare faded, she realized she was in her bedroom.
She was not alone.
Next to her, the handsome man she’d somehow conjured slept peacefully. The creature she’d imagined before—the one with red eyes and obsidian skin and sharp teeth—wasn’t there anymore. Wasn’t real, she reminded herself. At least she hoped not.
But what was real? Maybe she was merely trapped in a delusion of her own
making. She shook her head. Any delusion she created would surely have had Tim in it and not some stranger, gorgeous or not.
Cautiously, she poked at his massive shoulder, “Hello?”
His eyes flickered open. “Hello, my darling Emily.” He rolled onto his side and revealed his rather sizeable hard-on. “I have a present for you.”
She couldn’t help but feel the hot pulse of lust, but this time she wouldn’t give in to it. No, she wouldn’t lean down and lick the soft velvet of his erection. She bit her lower lip.
“What’s wrong with me?” she asked softly.
“Nothing,” he said. “You will free me, and then you will be happy.”
“Happy?” Emily couldn’t keep her gaze from his rigid length. She couldn’t quite stop herself from crawling between his legs.
“Are you mine yet?” he whispered seductively. “Forget everything but me, Emily.”
Her lips descended, sliding down his flesh, sucking him deeply. Her body throbbed in primal heat. She felt so overwhelmed by the need to pleasure this man, she could barely breathe. His fingers slid into her hair as she licked and sucked him.
Emily loved his musky scent, the taste of his maleness. She didn’t want to stop, and soon, she gained a rhythm that made him groan, made him beg for release. She stroked the base of his shaft as her mouth took him. The rhythm she created made him cry out, made him spurt down her throat. She swallowed his cream, triumphant.
Her Shadow Lover had captured her body, and she couldn’t stop partaking of the nirvana he offered. Deep inside Emily’s mind, she knew something was terribly wrong. She was trapped, and she couldn’t escape.
***
Angel patted Graddie’s cheeks, afraid to check for a pulse.
Roc knelt next to her. “What’s that on his neck?”