Demon Seed

by Jianne Carlo

  “Before I agree to anything, you need to answer three questions.” She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes.

  “Fire.” Demon aped her stance.

  “How did she end up in your company?”

  Demon recounted their first meeting.

  She shook her head. “I should’ve listened to my gut, but Emilio and Elvira had lived in Europe for so long that I figured it was safe to send Jacinta to the boarding school. Elvira poisoned that boy, and he has too much of his father in him. He’s as insane as Pedro. He should be institutionalized.”

  “You won’t have to worry about Emilio anymore. Second question?”

  She shot him a hard stare and then nodded. “Thank you. Jacinta needs to be free to finally live, and she wouldn’t be safe with Emilio walking this world.”

  Demon raised a brow but kept his trap shut. Sister Helen not only knew what would happen to Emilio and Pedro, she also approved. Completely. Interesting.

  “Are your intentions honorable?”

  His jaw dropped. His palms dampened. How to answer that one? “Depends on your definition. Have you ever heard that saying that if you love something, set it free; if it comes back to you—”

  “I’ve heard it. You’ll do.”

  Demon took a step back. The damned woman gave him the heebie-jeebies. He had a hunch she never lost a battle or an argument. All of a sudden, he couldn’t wait to get out of her presence. “Third question?”

  “Where’s Mother Superior? And let me warn you that if you’ve wrecked her nerves, you will be doing penance for a good, long time.”

  “I’ll locate her pronto. We done?”

  “For now. I’ll go with you.” She squared her shoulders and elbowed past him.

  He clenched his jaw and followed her into the narrow hallway.

  “You should know Father Lawson is dead. Pedro discovered that he’d lied about the baby.”

  Demon stumbled and had to lengthen his stride to stay at her side. “When did this happen?”

  “After Pedro killed Rosa, he had the grave where we’d supposedly buried the baby dug up. We’d buried a mongoose. Pedro killed him before he captured me and Mother Superior.”

  Demon hadn’t seen Father Lawson in years, but it dawned on him at that moment why the nun’s features seemed so familiar. “He was your brother.”

  She nodded, and the set of her mouth changed. “Pedro’s end should not be easy.”

  “It won’t be.”

  They walked through the kitchen and picked their way across the catastrophic dining room without encountering anyone.

  As they entered the foyer, an armed guard approached him. Demon raised a brow. “Problem?”

  “The other nun keeps fainting. We took her outside. Satan’s with her.”

  “I was afraid of this. It’s going to take hours to get her calmed down. And we’ve the long journey back to the school ahead of us. Where’re you sending us? And how are we journeying?”

  A tepid evening gust swept the bay. Sister Helen’s habit flapped to one side.

  “By boat. To La Abatapo, a resort on a tributary.” Demon eyed the scene on the jetty. The men not on guard duty had set up temporary lighting. He glimpsed Xavier. Jacinta sat beside him facing the river. She still had the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

  “We cannot stay there long. We found Father Lawson’s body two days ago, and I evacuated the cloister. Mother Superior refused to leave until she had freed her doves. That’s how Pedro captured us. The woman is more stubborn than our mule.”

  Demon shot a glance at the nun whose set expression shouted stubborn. If she spoke the truth, Demon doubted he could predict the winner of a stubborn competition between Jacinta, Sister Helen, and Mother Superior.

  He turned back to the soldier. “Carry Mother Superior to the LCAC Xavier’s piloting. I’ll leave you here, Sister Helen. The rest of us will be back by dawn.” Demon hesitated, then added, “I’m sorry for your loss. Father Lawson was one of the good ones.”

  “I know.” She met his gaze, and her eyes glistened.

  Demon spun around, embarrassed on behalf of the nun who obviously hated to show any soft emotion. One of the men standing guard at the foot of the stairs gave him directions to the rooms where Emilio and Pedro were being held.

  Adjacent rooms.

  Symbolic and a typical Satan move. One would hear the other die. Both would pay.

  In the end, he didn’t have the boiling anger to draw out either man’s death. Revenge tasted bitter and released none of his repressed rage. Demon washed up at an outside sink but knew from experience that the stench of blood would fill his nose for some time.

  He wanted nothing more than to be inside Jacinta.

  Satan stood on the first plank of the jetty, bare-chested, arms folded, and spoiling for a tussle. Exactly what Demon needed. He shed his shirt.

  A good thirty minutes later, they called a draw.

  “It’s been a long time since you and I sparred.” Satan sported a swollen eye, and the lip that Sister Helen had battered was now split. He swiped the perspiration coating his ribs with his T-shirt.

  “I forgot about that right uppercut.” Demon fingered his aching jaw.

  “Feel any better?” Satan picked up his discarded weapons.

  “Not much. Let’s head out. Where’d you find five fucking LCACs?”

  “Fredo is one amazing, bad-ass dude. Wouldn’t leave Lucia’s side and wanted to make sure that we got Nunez ASAP.”

  “You could’ve radioed in the info.”

  Demon and Satan ambled down the jetty. The lone raft left bobbed as an early morning gust rocketed across the river.

  “We were on our way back to the resort when one of the men I’d left guarding Jacinta called with the news that you’d both been taken. You’re slipping in your old age.” Satan hopped into the boat.

  Demon untied the rope mooring the raft and jumped in. “I made it back early from the cloister, checked on Jacinta, talked to the men, and decided to join the patrol. Hadn’t had anything to eat. Went to the bar and ordered a juice and a sandwich. The waitress there must’ve heard my name, put two and two together, and figured out who I was. Jose put a price on the Demon’s Seed head a couple of days back. Sat outside to eat, and next thing I know, I’m hog-tied in a boat and heading downriver. Food must have been drugged.”

  The sun peeked over the horizon when they turned into the narrow tributary leading to La Abatapo. Shadows from the trees lining the river slivered and slipped long narrow leaf blades over the muddied waters.

  “The nun tell you much?”

  “Not as much as she knows.” Demon related what he’d learned from Sister Helen. “I want Lucifer to do a complete backgrounder on the woman.”

  “Why?” Satan geared down the engine when the resort’s jetty came into view in the distance.

  “Curiosity. She’s a tough woman, and she did right with Jacinta. I figure she’s going to want to see Sister Helen often.” No way Demon intended to give Satan any ribbing ammunition. If he even suspected how blasted scared Demon was to pop the question, there’d be no stopping him. And then the whole squad would find out. Not going to happen. In truth, he wanted the nun on his side before he asked Jacinta to marry him.

  They landed, moored, and headed up to the hotel.

  Was Jacinta asleep? Had her shock abated? What had Sister Helen told her? How the heck would she handle Pedro being her father? What it must have done to Rosa—being forced into an incestuous relationship. She must have been consumed by self-hatred toward the end.

  He knew the emotion from the inside out. If he’d succumbed to the self-destructive drive fueled by Pedro’s abuse, Pedro would’ve won. That realization had finally turned him around. Denying Pedro victory and the discipline of the navy and then the dogged determination to become a SEAL had saved his sorry ass.

  What could he do to help her through the coming months? Keep her barefoot and pregnant? The notion held an overwhelming appeal. Sett
ing her free to experience the world held none, not an iota. But it was the honorable course of action. Fucked if he did, fucked if he didn’t. Definitely not a win-win situation.

  Demon and Satan parted ways in the lobby. He went straight to the front desk and inquired about the nuns. Both Sister Helen and Mother Superior shared a room on the second floor. The resort’s on-call doctor had paid them a visit and, according to the manager, had declared both healthy.

  Further questioning offered one telling tidbit. The waitress who had worked the bar and given him the drugged sandwich had not turned up for her shift. One less issue to deal with. He couldn’t put off facing Jacinta any longer. Footsteps leadened by the dread of the unknown, he trudged down the hallway, inserted the key into the lock, and entered the room.

  A strong predusk breeze lifted the parted transparent drapes. He glimpsed her spiky hair dusting the back of the wicker chair that faced the far tree line. Was she thinking about Pedro? Rosa? Him?

  He shut the door quietly and treaded lightly to the balcony, but she must’ve sensed his presence for she stood, turned around, and he wanted to swallow her whole. She didn’t have bloodshot eyes and wore the pink glow of just-scrubbed skin on her face. He’d always dated women who wouldn’t dream of setting foot outside without a full makeup job. The idea of Jacinta piling all that crap on her beautiful skin proved abhorrent.

  As always, his dick reacted to the sight of her, the smell of her, going rigid and twitching hopefully.

  “Are you okay?” She walked right to him, pressed her cheek to his sweaty shirt, and wrapped her arms around his waist. Craning her neck, she met his gaze, those turquoise irises a halo around her dark pupils. Pupils no longer dilated, her gaze clear and bright. “I’ve been sitting here praying for you to return safely to me.”

  “How’re you holding up?” He caressed her back, searching for any tenseness, and studied her intently, checking for any other signs of shock. Capturing her wrist, he glanced down at her and then kissed each fingertip, relieved to find them warm and not icy. No sign of shock.

  “I’ve been counting my blessings as ordered by Sister Helen.”

  “And Sister Helen is…?”

  “Comforting Mother Superior. She has a horror of violence of any sort. A result of her childhood on the streets of São Paolo. I always found it ironic that the only one who can comfort her is Sister Helen.”

  “Your guerilla nun mentor is formidable.”

  “She told me about Father Lawson. Him being her brother and his death. Does my uncle still live?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jacinta knew the answer before Demon spoke.

  “There were a few casualties. Pedro and Emilio were two of them. So were Hugo and Brio.” He met her stare without blinking.

  “The world is a better place. Sister Helen will never admit this, but she will be grateful to you for avenging her brother. She may have devoted the rest of her life to God, but in her heart she will always be a rebel.” Jacinta cupped his jaw and smiled when her fingertips grazed the soft stubble.

  “What blessings have you been counting?” He kissed her palm.

  “Many. The top of the list is that you love me.” It had taken a half dozen armed men, two with their guns pointed right at his head, before he uttered the words, but never would she forget that moment.

  “I do. And I want nothing more right now than to make love to you. But I need a shower first.”

  She leaned into the hand tracing the whorls of one ear. “And lovers only shower separately. I have this on excellent authority. I will order the room service breakfast. Not something hot, because I know it will be cold before we eat.”

  “Minx. You learn way too fast. I like that sexy glint in your eyes. Hold that thought. I won’t be long.” He kissed her forehead and stepped away.

  She followed his stride until the bathroom door closed. Sister Helen had advised her to go to New York with him. Jacinta had decided not to. She loved him too much for that. But she would have this one day with Demon. A day to treasure for the rest of her life.

  After ordering an assortment of fruits and pastries, including several chocolate croissants, Jacinta set the scene. She closed the drapes, lit the scented candles she’d found in a drawer, and changed into the halter top and skirt.

  A waft of warm air warned her that he had opened the shower door. She turned around and smoothed the skirt, not quite certain of his reaction. Demon, freshly shaved and wearing nothing but a towel slung low on his lean hips, stood framed by a cloud of steam, his jaw dropped, his gaze scanning her from head to toe.

  “Understand this, kitten. That little number is for me and me alone.” He jabbed a finger at his chest.

  Right then the doorbell rang.

  “That’s the room service. You do not need to give me the money for the tip. The front desk manager told me I could add it to the bill.” She pivoted.

  “Stop right there. What did I just say?” He had her in a crushing embrace before she could take a step. His still-damp chest hairs tickled her spine.

  Tilting her head back and back, she met his stare and grinned at the color of his eyes. Molten molasses, just how she liked them. “It’s only room service, and you aren’t dressed.”

  “Dressed enough. Not like you. There’s not enough of you in that top. That room service waiter’d get an eyeful and then some. And then I’d have to beat the crap out of him.” Demon gave her a little shake. “Go sit in the chair and face the curtains.”

  Jealousy? Could it be? Jacinta’s grin widened. Then she frowned; there were room service waitresses. Glancing over her shoulder, she spied Demon holding the door open a tad and pulling the cart through the narrow space.

  “Can I get you to sign the bill?” A male voice asked the question, and her shoulders relaxed.

  While waiting for Demon to complete the transaction, she fingered the pills still hidden in the pocket of the skirt and realized that she should move them to a better hiding place. Spotting the menu on the desk, she quickly slipped the pills under the leather-bound bill of fare.

  “You can turn around now.”

  She pivoted.

  He flicked the towel off, let it fall to the floor, and stalked in her direction.

  His dick, cock, boner, woodsy, whatever had her mesmerized. The second he was in touching distance, she gripped the thick rod and sank to her knees.

  “Oh no, you don’t.” He hauled her up. “I want in you, Jacinta. Second, third round maybe, but not now. As it is, I’m riding a wire.”

  “I want you inside me too, Demon mina. No rubber.”

  He scooped her high against his chest and shook his head. “No. I will not take that choice away from you.”

  She twined her fingers behind his neck and cleared her throat. “There aren’t any.”

  “What?” He bumped into the bed, and they fell onto the mattress, her on top of him. “You told me you’d bought them.”

  “I did. Every single one in the gift shop. Then I flushed them down the toilet.” She firmed her chin and read the fury in his piercing stare.

  “Liar.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Uh-uh, little Miss Cloister. Not giving up that kind of info. Why’s this so important to you?”

  Jacinta couldn’t tell him the truth, not all of it. She drew a figure eight on his chest. “I do not remember so clearly that one time. There were so many sensations all at once.”

  He touched the tip of her nose. “You win. No rubber. There’s another way.”

  She grinned. “Show me.”

  “You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.” He waggled his eyebrows, and her insides went all soft and gooey. “Breasts first. One at a time.”

  “What do you want?”

  Rolling them over, he blew out a long sigh and then scooted off her. He shook his head, and his wet hair sent little drops all over her cleavage. “Let’s get you out of these clothes.”

  Jacinta sat up and twisted. “You have t
o unlace me.”

  “This is like unwrapping a Christmas present. We may have to get you a few of these tops. For my eyes only.”

  His fingers tickled her spine, and she giggled. The fabric went slack, and his hot palms circled her breasts. She leaned on him.

  “You’re so absolutely beautiful. So perfect. I love your breasts.” He nuzzled that spot on her neck that got her all wet and creamy. “Are you wearing the panties?”

  She moaned and attempted a nod.

  “Sit up a bit. Lift the skirt to your waist. Yeah. Like that.”

  Jacinta bunched the material tighter when he bit the curve of her shoulder and tweaked her pulsing nipple. Her walls clenched, and the sweet sensation she’d begun to know so well, the one that portended utter bliss, rippled up from her toes to her tingling scalp.

  He slipped one hand under her panties, traced the middle of her bottom, and pressed hard on a place right before her center. She shuddered when he increased the pressure, and arched into him. His rigid cock ground against her rump.

  “Please. I need you.”

  “Give me your mouth.”

  Jacinta twisted to him, and he captured her mouth, plunged a finger deep inside her, and rolled the nipple he’d been torturing. He kissed her, fucked her, and plucked her, short drives, then long ones, pinched her budded peak hard, then barely grazed the aching tip. Teasing her, building the excitement until she grew frantic for release.

  His tongue worked magic, sliding in and out, tickling, thrusting. The now familiar clenching started. Short, sharp squeezes of her inner walls, her labia so swollen and sensitized from the friction of his palms that when he bit her tongue, the contractions exploded. Her nails scraped his thighs. He held her firmly, his fingers plunging deeper and faster, her hips canting to his touch, until she collapsed, limp and boneless. He kissed her everywhere—hot, moist, openmouthed kisses.

  “You’re so damned passionate. I need inside now, kitten. On your knees.”

  In a frenzy to have his thick, pulsing cock inside, she obeyed in a flash. Instincts drove her, and she rested on her elbows. He flipped the skirt up. The fabric covered her back, and the hem hung down over her face like a personal curtain shutting out the world. He dragged the panties down to her knees.