Fallen Gods II: Jaded Prey

by Lorie O'Clare

  “If you are in any way responsible for the demon creature who tortures me in my dreams, I swear you will live to regret it.” She turned on him, yanking open the bathroom door, and slamming it loudly behind her.

  Every muscle inside him clenched in outrage. His fiery redhead had a temper. Well, he wouldn’t be pushed around. No woman ever stormed out on him, especially in the wake of some of the best sex he’d ever had.

  Merco leapt from the tub, drying himself with a thought while he raced out of the bathroom after her. She was already down the stairs and in the living room, struggling to pull her clothes on over her wet body.

  He allowed a towel to appear and handed it to her, knowing she was too upset to notice it had appeared out of nowhere.

  “I’m not responsible for whatever is torturing you,” he told her calmly.

  She yanked the towel from him and wrapped it around her damp skin, giving up on her clothes for the moment. Staring at him, her blue eyes showing her tortured pain, she ran her tongue over her lips.

  “Well, if you are magic, make it go away,” she told him defiantly.

  In all of his dealings with humans, none had ever stood up to him the way she did now. His heart swelled, an ache that grew and spread throughout him while he reached for her. She didn’t come to him, but stood her ground. He went to her instead.

  “Naomi,” he whispered, brushing her wet hair to the side of her face. “I don’t understand why I can’t see what tortures you. Something powerful has mastered hiding from the gods.”

  She shook her head, squeezing her eyes closed for a moment before looking him straight in the eye.

  “You’re scaring me,” she confessed. “And I want to run from you. But when I’m with you, he leaves me alone.”

  That told him this creature of hers knew who he was, feared him, knew he would wipe it out of existence if he found him in her. Anger swirled through him, his muscles hardening with determination that she would not leave his side.

  “I’m going to take care of you.”

  She was worth fighting for, and it would be worth her accepting who he was just to have her by his side—always. The realization that he wanted that created a tightening in his gut that he hadn’t expected. Naomi needed him. He’d already accepted that. But the thought that he needed her, too, meant accepting what he already knew to be the truth. He loved her. And for the duration of her life, he would be with her. If she would have him, he wanted her as his wife.

  The elders would throw a fit. Gods didn’t take humans as mates. History had shown what happened when such a matrimonial fusion occurred. Their offspring would be outcasts. Neither would be fully accepted in the other’s world. But leaving her, allowing her to lead out her life without him, find a good human man to take as a husband, didn’t sit well with him at all. No other man would call Naomi his woman. Not ever. If she would accept that he was a god, then he would willingly stand beside her, enjoy every moment of her mortal life.

  She turned from him, keeping the towel around her but using the corner of it to dry her hair. Just watching her long slender legs, so creamy white, and her small feet walk across his carpet, made him want her all over again. Standing there naked, he felt the pressure build in his groin, his sated cock do a small dance of anticipation at the thought of fucking her again.

  “So you can make sure that this thing never bothers me again?” Her voice was soft, unsure.

  He knew she wanted to trust him, but he asked a lot of her. She was open to new things, but he’d thrown the unbelievable out at her, and could tell she wasn’t ready to believe him. Only out of desperation did she ask him that.

  “My friends who were here,” he began carefully, knowing much more information might have her running out of his door again. “Morph and Ace will be able to help. But they won’t until you trust them.”

  She turned around and looked at him, a multitude of questions in her expression.

  “Until I have your trust,” he added, watching her.

  She nodded, although he was aware of her confusion. She needed time, and he would give her that. But she would stay with him until she accepted how things would be.

  He stepped to the side, gesturing to the stairs. “Go upstairs. Enjoy the bath. When you come down, I will have a meal ready for us.”

  She chewed her lip for a moment, her gaze traveling down him. She enjoyed the view and didn’t want to leave him. He offered her security and she wanted that. As she had told him, he kept her nightmares away. Now to convince her that she wanted to be with him for more reasons than that.

  Without a word, she walked past him, and went up the stairs slowly, not looking back at him while she returned to the hot bath waiting upstairs.

  Leaving her to her own thoughts for a bit would do her some good. Merco knew he’d given her a lot of information, and she wouldn’t accept it without thinking it over. He padded quietly into his kitchen, not surprised to see Ace and Morph making themselves at home.

  “Where’d you find her?” Ace asked. He sat cross-legged on the middle of Merco’s kitchen table, idly flipping through one of the magazines Merco had left there.

  “At one of their covens.” Merco walked over to his counter, staring at the clean surface until a large silver platter appeared, a variety of sliced meats and cheeses on it.

  “Oh, ho!” Ace whooped, giving Merco a slap on the back. “She is one of those who thinks herself a witch.”

  Merco shook his head, creating another wooden cutting board with fresh sliced bread on it.

  “She was simply curious. Naomi has no powers.” He turned to face his friends, knowing they would always be there for him when he needed them. “But she does have something plaguing her. And I don’t like the fact that I can’t see who it is.”

  He quickly filled them in on what he knew about her nightmares. “She doesn’t want to talk about it. And I think it’s because whoever is torturing her is threatening her if she speaks.”

  His two friends grew serious.

  “If she doesn’t trust us, we can’t help her,” Ace pointed out.

  Both of them looked at him. They weren’t telling him anything he didn’t already know.

  “She is scared.” And that bothered him more than anything. What he wouldn’t do to squeeze the life out of whoever terrified her.

  “Her tormentor is satisfied that she will be loyal to him and not speak. If she were to describe him, give us a clue, we would know who it was.” Morph reached behind Merco, stealing a piece of cheese. “You need to gain her trust.”

  “I know that.” Merco balled his hands into fists, the urge to crush something getting the best of him. “And I’m working on it.”

  “You realize the coven will be pissed when they learn you’ve told a human about your true nature.” Ace changed the subject. One might not notice by his relaxed position on Merco’s table, but he was the serious one, always cautious with his actions.

  “I don’t give a damn what the elders of the coven think.” And he didn’t. All that mattered to him right now was convincing Naomi that he was the only one who could help her. “I will gain her trust. And I will know when I have it.”

  The other two nodded, understanding. In the past, the true way they knew if a woman would be loyal to them, was if they could share her, and she would come back to them. He knew Naomi wasn’t ready for that right now. But in time, with a little effort, he would see if she would give herself to him completely, allowing him to share her and offer her greatest gift to his friends.

  His two friends disappeared when they heard Naomi coming down the stairs. He carried the two trays to the table, focusing first on her feet when she entered the room. Placing the trays down, he took his time taking her in. Even her feet turned him on. This just wasn’t like him.

  But his body tightened, the air squeezing from his lungs when his gaze traveled up her.

  “I hope you don’t mind.” She stroked the silky material of the shirt she’d found in his closet. “I did
n’t feel like putting those clothes on again after bathing.”

  “It’s never looked better,” he told her, and meant it. Even in the oversized shirt, every button buttoned, she made his heart stop beating.

  She allowed a small smile, and looked down. But her guard was up. There were things on her mind, a lot of things, and she didn’t know how to approach him with her many questions.

  “Have a seat.” The first thing he needed to do was make her surroundings comfortable, like home. She would open up sooner that way. “I wasn’t sure what you liked.”

  She sat down, her slender legs bare under the long shirt that flowed around her thighs. Bending her over the table and burying himself in her heat sounded a hell of a lot better than a sandwich. His cock moved to life at the thought, but he ordered himself to behave. For now, they would talk.

  “This is fine.” She clasped her hands in her lap, her head lowered.

  Merco brought a couple plates to the table and then wineglasses. Turning to the counter he reached out and picked up a bottle of wine that wasn’t there a second ago. It had been a last-minute thought. She might relax more after a glass or two. Although he risked upsetting her more if she noticed the action, the soothing alcohol might be well worth it.

  She was still looking down when he popped the cork and poured the rippling dark fluid into each glass. He placed her glass in front of her, distracted by how her hair curled into perfect ringlets when it was damp. The dark amber hair contrasted her creamy complexion perfectly.

  “Drink,” he told her.

  Obediently she picked up the glass and pressed her lips to the glass. He watched her slender throat move as she swallowed, remembering how she tasted there, the silky feel of her skin. A swelling moved through him, protective, demanding, carnal. He took a gulp from his own glass and then sat down across from her.

  “I suppose you made all of this food magically appear.” She reached for a slice of bread and placed it on her plate.

  Then taking a piece of beef, she tore a bit of it free and put it in her mouth. Her gaze shot up to him, her fingers still at her lips while her blue eyes searched his face.

  He didn’t see any reason to answer that question. She knew the answer already. “Tell me about this creature who plagues you,” he said instead, changing the subject.

  Her eyes darkened, her forehead wrinkling with worry while she studied him for a moment, taking her time in answering. She was scared and he hated that. Gaining her trust would take time, but he had plenty of that.

  “He doesn’t want me to talk about him,” she whispered, fear in her tone.

  “I realize that. That tells me that he knows who I am, and he fears me.” He watched her eyes widen, but only for a moment. Slowly the wrinkles in her forehead disappeared. “Tell me what you can about him.”

  She took another bite of the meat, chewing it slowly and then swallowing. Her tongue darted over her lips. His cock surged to life, aching for the feel of that soft tongue over his sensitive cock head. But even more, the way she sorted through her thoughts, determined that telling him was in her best interest, turned him on more than her actions.

  This was terrifying. What she thought even excited him. Something about this woman drove him mad with need, with a primal desire to take care of her, see to her needs, ensure she would always be safe. He waited while she took a slow breath and then let it out silently.

  “He is disgusting-looking,” she began, speaking so softly he almost didn’t hear her. “When he touches me, I want to puke.”

  “How does he touch you?” Everything hardened inside him. Just the thought of someone violating her had him seeing red.

  Those soft eyes, a beautiful lusty blue, gazed up at him, her lashes fluttering while she ran her tongue over her lips.

  “He touches me sexually, plays with me, gropes and fondles me whenever I try to fall asleep.”

  “And that is why you called out for me that first night.”

  She nodded, not taking her gaze from him.

  “I didn’t think you would believe me.” She reached for a piece of cheese and her hands trembled. “I didn’t think anyone would believe me.”

  “Tell me more about what he looks like, what he says to you.” He ached to move to her, take her in his arms, assure her that she would never be tortured again.

  But this would take time. At least for now, she was talking to him, sharing with him what she hadn’t shared with anyone else. Well, she’d told her girlfriend, and at least that much had drawn their attention.

  “When I saw you downtown, in that shop,” she began, tearing at the bread now and not looking at him. “I saw a figurine that looked exactly like him. It scared the hell out of me.”

  Merco had reached for bread and stopped in mid-action. He remembered that night, watching her walk distracted along the street, preventing the car from hitting her, and then the figurine of the demon leader mysteriously appearing in Marlita’s shop. There was no way she would stock such an item, yet there it had been. And it had scared the shit out of Naomi.

  He wanted to kick himself. At the time he’d been so focused on seeing if he could seduce her without powers that he hadn’t bothered to see the obvious. But the demon leader was…

  “Are you sure it looked exactly like him?” he asked, needing to be sure. Fury surged through him over the possibilities here.

  Naomi nodded. “At first glance I thought it was him.” She shuddered, fear wrapping around her as she leaned back in her chair, wrapping her arms around her waist. She’d apparently lost interest in her food.

  Merco stood, his anger accelerating tenfold. The demon leader had been destroyed. Or that was what he thought had happened when Bridget escaped from his grasp in the hells. Merco had been there to witness it. He and Braze had shown up right after she’d made him disappear, seconds too late from witnessing the despicable creature’s destruction.

  And Bridget had gone into the hells to save Naomi. Albeit Merco hadn’t known her then, he knew that Bridget chased after her when the demon leader had captured her. And Bridget had saved her, then wiped her mind clear of all memory of the horrible experience.

  Somehow…something had gone terribly wrong.

  “What is it?” Naomi had stood, and reached for him when he turned to her. But then she pulled her hand back, unsure.

  Fire rushed over him, egging on the temper that threatened to unleash. Muscles clenched painfully. He inhaled slowly before something in the kitchen broke. He wouldn’t let her see his outrage. Never did he want to see Naomi afraid to touch him. He forced his temper at bay.

  “When was the first time you ever saw this creature? Think carefully.” He took her hand that she’d pulled from him, focusing on the softness of her skin. She was so fragile, yet enduring so much silently.

  She didn’t pull her hand away but looked down while he stroked her skin with his thumb. A different kind of burning began from the friction touching her skin, stroking it, feeling her soft heat flush through his system.

  “The first time…” she hesitated, relaxing her hand in his, brushing her fingers ever so slightly over the top of his hand. The hairs on his skin stood at attention, electricity shocking him from her soft alluring touch. “The first time was in a dream.”

  But she wasn’t sure. Her thoughts were a clutter of confusion as she frowned, trying to remember. Somehow whatever spell Bridget had cast on her, making her forget the torturous time she had spent in the hells, was wearing off. This wasn’t heard of. Most mortals had no way of controlling the extremity of anything cast upon them. His heart leapt at the thought that Naomi had more insight than most, that her consciousness had opened fractions further than most humans, allowing her to control her environment the way most mortals couldn’t.

  “You’ve only seen him in dreams,” he prompted, aching to plunge into her thoughts, tear through her darkest memories to make sure for himself.

  But he wouldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t do that. In spite of how
desperately the truth mattered, Naomi was a fragile soul at the moment. He worried if he conjured up too many dark memories by sorting through them that she might not be able to handle it.

  If the demon leader had somehow managed to traipse through her most concealed thoughts, though, he could have surfaced images that she was supposed to forget.

  He’d tightened his grip on her hand without realizing it, his own thoughts plaguing him to the point where he needed to strike out, to release the anger he refused to allow to surface.

  “You’re hurting me,” she said quietly. “What is it?”

  He let go of her hand instantly, angry at himself for not being able to better curb his growing rage. Naomi didn’t need to see the danger that she was in. If the demon leader somehow had housed himself inside her, her entire existence was at risk. This was more serious than he had first thought.

  “I will never hurt you. Come here.” He couldn’t keep his hands off of her. Reaching for her, wrapping her into his embrace, he inhaled her clean scent, the fresh smell of soap and the warmth of her body. “I’m going to get that bastard out of you. Do you understand me? But it’s going to take your trust—your complete trust and faith in me. I can’t act until I know that you will allow me to do whatever is necessary.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Something wasn’t right here. Naomi sat on Merco’s bed, a bed they had yet to fuck in, and stared at the phone in her hand. She’d just called work and used a few of her vacation days to take some time off. Then she’d called Thena, who thought all of this was a great adventure. Now she needed to call Bridget.

  Even though she’d just showered, and had a wonderful night’s sleep in Merco’s arms, she couldn’t get her mind to work. The godawful creature hadn’t bothered her, but she couldn’t escape the feeling that he was lingering, plotting and planning something terrible.

  “Just great, now I’m trying to get into its head,” she moaned, kicking her bare feet over the side of the king-sized bed.

  “Did you say something, miss?” The older man who Merco said would be here if she needed anything while he was gone, stuck his head in through the door.