How dared he disregard her? She lashed out at him with her nails and felt them tear flesh.
The prince cried out and fell to his knees, covering his face with his hands. Blood began to well between his fingers.
She turned and fled on wing, cursing herself for her thoughtless panic. She had never allowed a mortal to unbalance her so.
No, it hadn’t been the man. It had been the thought of Baraqiel and his disapproval.
She waited for him at the grove, knowing he would come. When he arrived, it was with all the thunder and fury of an angel of vengeance. The wind from his landing whipped at the trees, and the blaze of his eyes was worthy of hellfire.
“You harmed a man under my protection,” he said grimly.
She would not let an angel rattle her. “I harmed his face, but you still succeeded in protecting his virtue, which you seemed to consider more important.”
“So instead of seducing him, you disfigured him so badly he’s withdrawn into his castle and refuses to see anyone, raging like a beast.”
“Do you want me to lure him out?” she asked in exasperation. How much could a mortal matter?
He spread his wings as though to block her way. “No!” He took a moment to calm himself, then went on, “He’ll recover eventually, and some woman will one day be able to see past his hideousness. Not that you care, demon.” He watched her with a new wariness.
Then she realized this was how he had looked at her originally. Over their time together his regard had changed to something warmer. But she’d lost that now, even though all along he’d known her for what she was. She couldn’t pretend remorse for what she had done, and so said nothing.
“You’re skilled, succubus,” he said. “You’ve rendered me senseless. But I will never give you my true name or my soul. Only my heart. Is that enough for you to leave us be?”
She shivered. His words weren’t so unlike the many declarations of love she had gathered over the centuries, but they were utterly, starkly different. They had meaning to her.
“Do you truly want me to leave?” she asked.
“Stop taunting me,” he said wearily.
“I’m not taunting.” She reached for his hand and pressed her lips to the back of it. She had never begged in her life. “If you send me away, I will go. But I will twist your dreams with such torment that waking without me will be Hell.”
He took in the tenderness of her gesture and the threat of her words. “Lilith…”
She refused to listen to a man reject her for the first time. She flung herself into the air, seeking as much distance as possible. It was hard to see in the rain, but it didn’t matter, for she had no destination except away.
Baraqiel caught her before she went too far, catching her ankle and yanking her down so that the rhythm of her wingbeats faltered. He took advantage of her brief plummet to twist her around toward him and pull her into his arms.
She struggled, but he held her with unyielding resolve and somehow kept them airborne. He kept kissing her, kept saying her name, kept telling her he hadn’t realized how she felt, and when she kicked out her legs he wrapped them around him, and the hardness of his cock right against her center made her suddenly dizzy with want. She abandoned her attempts to claw at him, clinging to his neck instead.
He claimed her there in the storm-drenched sky, their mouths and bodies desperately fused while lightning cracked the air around them.
Afterward, he took her back to the grove. Her legs were unsteady. It was a good reason to hold onto him.
“I can’t let you go,” he said finally. “But I don’t know how this can work. We’ll have to steal time together.”
“Yes. And no one must know.” She knew that those of both Heaven and Hell would never let them be together.
“But you really must stay away from my ward,” he said, his embrace tightening possessively.
“I don’t care about him,” she said. “I went to the castle to look for you. Where were you?”
“I was in the garden, trying to save a flower from the storm.” He let go of her and bent down to pick up something he must have brought earlier then dropped. “I found this and thought of you,” Baraqiel said, handing her a black rose.
Even wet, its petals were softly furred and exquisitely gentle against her skin as she breathed in its scent. That he gave it to her, she knew, meant that he forgave her. “Do you know why I like gardens?” she asked him when she raised her head.
He sighed. “Because that’s where you first tempted a man.”
“The man was one of many,” she said. “But I will never again be in a place as beautiful as Eden.” She remembered the verdant richness, the sweetness of the very air. There was an old ache within her.
His expression softened. “The way is guarded,” he said, by which she knew he meant he would have taken her there otherwise.
She kissed him. “When I’m with you, it reminds me of how I felt when I was there.”
“Close to Heaven?” he asked, puzzled.
“Happy,” she said simply.
He held her face in his hands and pressed his lips to her forehead. That was his blessing, which no demon had ever received before, she knew. Then he kissed her mouth. That was his love, and even rarer.
She was a demon—she could never reach Heaven. But in her moments with him, she could reach Paradise.
Unforgettable
by Amanda McIntyre
Gunner flipped his worn leather wallet shut and stuffed it into his faded jeans. The picture, the only one he had of her, taken in one of those funky photo booths, was faded, crinkled by time. Time…it’s all he had now.
The main street of the sleepy little town lay deserted stretched out like an asphalt runway. It was as good of a place as any other he figured for the tribe to meet. A flash of light burst in his brain and his head snapped up. The hairs on the back of his neck sensed life nearby. Human. Feminine. Alone.
He stepped back into the shadows, his heart beginning a familiar predatory thud. His acute hearing honed in on her breathing. She walked with a rapid gait, as though she knew it wasn’t safe to be out at this hour. Her labored breathing slowly began to match his, a special gift not many of his kind possessed—being able to fall in line with another’s breathing, be able to detect the nuance changes due to any number of reasons, most often, passion or fear. There were those in the tribe jealous of his special talents, while others revered him as special. Gunner could care less what anyone thought. If it helped him to survive, he’d use it.
He raised his nose in the air and caught the light scent of the woman’s fruity shampoo mixed with the smoky interior of a bar. There was the slight hint of wine on her lips, mixed with a familiar sweet cotton candy scent. His memory, both blessing and curse, remembered her lithe, delicate body arching against him in their one night of passion. He wondered if she remembered him and more important, what was she doing here? His hand eased over his crotch already roused by thoughts of her. Damn. He’d tried to forget—for the better part of five years he’d managed to avoid thoughts of her, and freakin ’a, if she wasn’t right here in the obscure, little backwoods town that the tribe had chosen for their Samhain Centennial. Every one hundred years they met to elect a new leader. The present leader, Aidian was stepping down, his reign over, but with a dual purpose, to spend his days with the woman he loved.
Gunner sensed that she was less than a block away and walking home, if he figured it right. He glanced around at the dark storefronts of the main street—a five and dime, a drugstore and a second hand store with a flashing orange pumpkin beaming bright in its window. The wind carried the high-pitched scratchy cry of a cat in a back alley trashcan, probably fell in and deservedly so—he hated cats, they were such sneaky creatures. A dog’s wild barking made him smile, but jumbled his radar for a moment and he lost track of her. Gunner waited, focused on retrieving her scent in the heavily misted midnight breeze. He waited another breath and then stepped from his hiding place. An e
lbow met his face and before he could react, there was a painful blow to his shin and a quick, decisive jab to his gut, causing him to double over and gasp for air.
“You think I didn’t know you were here? I sensed you the minute I stepped from the pub. Where’d you go, Gunner? You forgot to say goodbye.”
He wiped the blood trickling from his nose as he smiled at his assailant. “Good to see you, too. I see you haven’t changed, Tory. What’s up?” Damn the woman still could whip his ass, though he had to figure in that she had the advantage of his jumbled thoughts. He looked her over from head to toe and through an eye he knew would be swollen soon, she still looked good enough to eat—figuratively speaking. She was a bad boy’s dream in her form-fitting jeans and thin white T-shirt topped with a worn leather biker’s jacket. A fuchsia colored scarf was looped fashionably twice around that beautiful neck. Gunner felt a twinge stirring below his belt.
Tory shifted her oversized black bag on her shoulder and eyed him warily. “I suppose you want me to take care of that,” she nodded, referring to his eye.
“I wouldn’t want to trouble you,” Gunner remarked, rubbing his hand over his gut.
“Like hell, you wouldn’t, Gunner. Come on then. I’m just up the block. Don’t try anything though, I’m warning you.”
He grinned, raising his hands in defense. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied. Only he had and every night for a year after he’d left her at the seedy motel where they’d gone to have some privacy. They’d met at a bistro in Tuscany and spent the next week touring the sights, sampling the wine and food, learning about each other-eventually revealing who he was, what he was and offering her the same. She declined and their last night together, he mustered every ounce of strength, making passionate love with her, but not taking her for his eternal mate.
Gunner followed her up the three flights of stairs sporting a hard-on and a displaced sense of nobility trying to keep from staring at her sweet ass in front of him. He remembered even now, the satin smooth texture of her skin, those hips cradled in his hands, holding her to him, driving into her sweet warmth…
“Here I am.” She looked over her shoulder and her eyes grew wide.
Gunner ran his tongue over his incisors, their points becoming razor sharp when aroused.
“Maybe this isn’t a good idea, Gunner.” She chewed on her plump lower lip, urging the blood—her blood—pulsating to the surface.
Shit.
This was going to be a monumental exercise in self-control. That night he’d sworn to uphold her wishes not to turn her—it wasn’t what she wanted. But when they mated, she’d branded him for anyone else. “I promise to be a good boy.” He winked, following with a wince to the stab of pain in his eye.
“Come on in. You haven’t changed much,” she commented as she hung her purse and coat on the single hook inside the door. Gunner followed her into the apartment, checking once over his shoulder to make sure no one else had seen them. He closed the door, chuckling at her joke. It was a joke, wasn’t it? Surely she remembered the reason that he’d left her. Her scent wrapped around him, causing his mouth to water. Easy Gunner, ol’ boy. He stepped from the miniscule hall into the living room to wait. The furnishings were sparse, a couch, coffee table, a comfy reading chair with an ottoman—all nestled around a white marble fireplace that looked like it had never been used. An array of candles-squat, tall, in votive holders and elegant candelabra lined the mantel. He looked around taking note that there were no pictures of family, friends, no vacation snapshots and everything, walls, furniture and even the candles were all colorless, clinical—white.
“Make yourself comfortable,” she called from down the hall. “I’ll be right out.”
Gunner parked himself on the pristine couch, realizing how stark the contrast to his faded black jeans was. “Nice place,” he said aloud. A moment ticked by before she answered.
“It’s a place to hang my coat.” She entered the room carrying a slab of steak, the blood leaving a trail on her white shag rug.
“You’re… Uh.” He pointed at the path of red at her feet.
She glanced down, seemingly unconcerned, and shrugged. “It will clean.” She turned her gaze to his. “I thought the blood would turn you on.”
Gunner swallowed and narrowed his eyes, searching hers. “Like I need incentive around you?” He offered a cocky grin.
She knelt before him, spreading his knees to wiggle her body between his legs. Gunner raised his good brow, his body sensing as she leaned forward, her breasts unbound, brushing over his sensitive crotch. She placed the steak over his now bulging eye.
“I thought your kind healed quickly.” She rocked back on her heels, resting her elbows on his knees.
He wanted to reach down and weigh those delightful breasts in his hands, but they were holding a steak. Instead of answering her, he chose instead to ask his own questions. “What are you doing here, Tory? In this little town?”
She eyed him and then rose, walking to the window with its drapes pulled tight. “I’m here for the same reason you are, Gunner.”
He let the steak slide from his face, blinking away her duel image into a single one. “What do you mean?”
She crossed her arms beneath her chest and Gunner swallowed hard.
“You’re here for the gathering, aren’t you? To select the next tribe leader?”
This was getting stranger by the minute. His senses detected a shift in her breathing and he was on full alert. He began to wonder how easy their meeting had been—was it just a coincidence? Something told him that it was not a chance meeting.
“I had to see you once more before the gathering.” She unsnapped her skinny jeans and shimmied out of them with ease. She hadn’t yet looked at him; her gaze was on the draperies.
His incisors lengthened, his hungry eyes taking in her creamy white thighs. She wore a pair of pink panties, covering just enough to make him salivate. She hooked her thumbs in her panties and inched them down, flicking them away with her toe. And without even a glance toward him, she peeled her T-shirt over her head, causing her breasts to bobble deliciously in the process. Whatever reason she wanted to see him again, Gunner was more than willing to oblige. He stood and shrugged off his jacket and T-shirt in one fluid motion.
“Tory, are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Ice-cold desire surged through his veins. Would he be able to stop this time? She stood naked before him, staring at the wall and then drew back the curtains. As though the window was already open, it blew her black tresses into a tangled spiral above her head. She held her arms out, reaching for something. He was close, so close--a mere thought would have her pressed beneath him against the wall, holding those luscious hips, making her his. “Tory? What is it?”
She turned to him then, her eyes twin flames. In one hand she held an ancient dagger and in the other a short bladed sword. “When you left me, Gunner I was lost. What could I do? I had you Gunner and I convinced myself that it could work, that neither of us would have to change—that we’d be together always.”
Gunner, held his hands to his head, confused, hungry with desire and need. “I left so that you’d have a normal life.”
She spat out a laugh. “After you, Gunner? How could my life go back to normal? I died that night, Gunner. You took my life from me.”
He took a step toward her, tasting the invisible pulse of her heartbeat. She wasn’t dead, she couldn’t be, her breath was warm, and her blood ran like fire in her veins. He could feel her desire. She snapped up her weapons in front of her, holding him at bay. Something had a hold of her that was clear and whatever— whomever it was — meant for her to get rid of him. “Who did this, Tory? Who told you to kill me?”
Her brow wrinkled in a frown, her lips drew into a thin line in conjunction with her anger. “You did! When you left me!”
“And what happens when you’ve killed me? What happens to you?” Gunner took a step to the side, putting the coffee table between them.
&
nbsp; “Then I’ll be free of the pain of not being able to ever have you.”
“On whose terms, Tory?”
“On mine,” she shouted, slicing the weapons through the air with expert ease.
“Why must I have to die in order for you to be free?” He kept his eye on her, trying to determine what kind of spell had been cast in her. Who in the tribe would have wanted him dead and known about Tory? He was the favored one, chosen by Aidian, the Tribe’s leader. He had to find a way to get through to her, to break the spell.
“Tory, baby. You don’t want to do this. Whoever put you up to this, they don’t care about us. They don’t care what we had once together and Tory, we can have that same passion, every night for all eternity. If you want it, baby. Just like that night, I asked you then, but it wasn’t what you wanted and I respected that.” He moved slowly toward her, one step at a time. She shook her head as though fighting the conflicting voices in her head. She took another step and she poised the weapons in front of her, swiping one out in front of her, a weak warning he thought, taking another step. He was within arm’s reach of her. Gunner looked up and over her shoulder just outside the window he saw one of the new tribe members, one they called Artemis. “Tory, listen to me. Listen to my breathing. Do you see how it matches yours?”
Gunner knew the tribesman was imprisoned outside, unable to come in unless invited. That was the least of his concerns, getting those weapons from Tory and breaking the spell was foremost. “I miss your mouth, my love. Remember how hot our kisses were?” He stepped around the table, hesitant, searching her aura for the frequency of her breathing. He knew the moment his breath found hers and he finding their rhythm, he smiled and drew her close. She came to him, letting the weapons drop listless at her sides. Gunner inhaled deeply, releasing his breath, watching the gentle rise and fall of her breasts in conjunction. “That’s it, baby, come to me. Let me make this right, let me make it so we never have to be apart again.”
Her eyes flickered between the flames of the spell and the true color of her beautiful green eyes. A fierce wind nearly tore the curtains from the rod and Tory hesitated.
Just One Bite Volume 2 Page 7