Possession fa-5

by J. R. Ward

  “You are … unbelievable,” she said.

  “Enough about me.” He bent down to kiss her neck. “Now, where was I—”

  “Nope.” She held him off again. “Too many pants left on you.”

  Shifting the dynamic, she assumed the job of directing things by tugging on his arm, urging him to lie flat. But, as strong as he was, he wasn’t going horizontal on the bed unless he decided to—

  Well, what do you know, he accepted her lead, angling down and putting his head on her pillows, his long length dangling his boots off the foot of the bed. He took care of those combats himself, bringing each leg up, hands ripping the laces free. And as soon as he’d kicked them off onto the carpet, she took over, straddling his thighs, going for that button fly.

  His half-lidded eyes stared up at her as she released his incredible arousal. “You sure you want to waste time getting those jeans off?” he drawled.

  He had a point. She could do what she wanted with him just like this.

  Slipping her hands onto his erection, she relished the way he torqued, that incredible body contracting all over, his white teeth clamping down on his lower lip as he hissed in a lungful of air.

  Standing his arousal up, she led with her tongue, drawing a circle over the blunt head. And then she sucked him in, filling her mouth with all that erection. Now it was his hands tightening in her hair, his hips rolling upward as his head arched back, his breathing getting labored.

  “Oh, fuuuuuuuuuuck…”

  There was something totally intoxicating about having him undone, thanks to what she was doing to his sex. And that was even before she found a rhythm with her hands and her lips.

  “Oh, Jesus—fuck…”

  Without warning, he shot upright, dragging her off of him. His hands were rough as he tilted her face and took her mouth with a hot, hungry kiss.

  “You’re going to be the death of me,” he said.

  “Why? Because I like the way you feel in my mouth—”

  That growl came back, vibrating against her lips as he flipped her onto her back and mounted her.

  “Drawer,” she said, reaching out to her bedside table.

  He was quick and efficient with the condom, and then he was between her legs, making room for himself. As he angled his arousal against her, he slowed down and looked in her eyes.

  And that was when she feared … she could fall in love with him.

  Downstairs, directly below the pair of frickin’ lovebirds, Jim was sitting on the living room couch, his legs stretched out, his arms crossed over his chest, his lids low—but not because he was tired.

  Duke had not given shit up during the day … and except for a roommate who appeared to have a pot problem, and this nice woman he was taking care of upstairs? There didn’t seem to be anything dramatic going on with the guy.

  Further, Devina wasn’t lurking around this house. No minions, either.

  And Adrian had just texted to let him know that Sissy was reading in her bed, and the angel was counting the lint in his navel.

  Too quiet. Waaaaay too quiet, considering they were what, seventy-two hours into this round? Or had it been four days? He didn’t fucking know.

  Frankly, he could have used a good fight. Maybe something with a lot of hand-to-hand.

  He hated having time to think—with every blink of his eyes, he saw Nigel on that chaise longue, that silver blood everywhere, those eyes staring up sightless of whatever happened to be above Heaven. And then there was Colin.

  Jim knew what that white rage felt like—and looked like. Adrian had felt it, too, when Eddie had been killed. Jim himself had known it after his mother had been taken from him.

  Less stability was exactly what they did not need—

  Sitting up, he twisted around to the front door.

  “Speak of the devil,” he muttered as he got up and walked through the locked panels.

  Devina was standing out on the lawn, right underneath the streetlamp, the glow around her an unholy one, rather than anything thrown by that light. She was dressed in skintight black jeans and a tight black top that was low-cut enough to flash the lacy cups of her bloodred bra—no coat to warm her against the chill, but then, she was a reptile like that. As usual, her heels were tall enough to make it look like she was standing on her tiptoes, and her hair was all curled around her shoulders.

  So yup, SOP all around. Except there was one thing that was completely and totally off: no bravado. No swagger. No anger. She was as quiet and still as a dagger left on a table.

  “Out for a stroll,” he said dryly.

  “You got anything you want to tell me?”

  “How much time you got.”

  Down at the end of the street, a car turned in, its headlights flashing brightly on the approach. Neither one of them was visible to the human eye, though, so there was no slowdown, no gawking at the bombshell “woman” in the pool of illumination.

  Luckily for the contingency of humans, they just sped right by, getting out of range.

  “Nothing?” she prompted.

  Jim narrowed his eyes. “Not that you’d want to hear.”

  “I know about Nigel.”

  No reaction. He refused to show any reaction at all. Maybe the Maker had told her? “Do you.”

  “That puts them at a disadvantage, you know.” She waited as if expecting something, anything to come back at her. “They’re vulnerable.”

  “‘They’ as in who?”

  “Don’t be a fucking asshole, Jim.”

  He shrugged, but she did have a point. The pair of them were kind of beyond any coy routine. “And you’re telling me this because…?”

  “I thought you’d want to know. Assuming you don’t already.”

  “No offense, Devina, but I find it impossible to believe you’re trying to help me.”

  “Everything’s changed now.”

  “Because Nigel bit it? I’m not sure he’s that important, frankly—but the point’s moot.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t get it, Jim. You’re the one they’re going to have replace him.”

  Years of training and experience were the only reason his expression didn’t change. But shit, that had certainly never dawned on him.

  “Not in my job description,” he drawled, like he didn’t give a shit.

  “Wait for it. Whether or not you win the war—”

  “When I win it—”

  “That’s your future now, Jim, and you’re not going to have a choice. You’re going to be conscripted.”

  “Oh, come on, Devina, you’re so full of shit—”

  “How do you think those four got their jobs? You think they were born up there? Don’t be naive, Jim. Your fate’s been sealed.”

  He stared at her for a long time, connecting the dots and not liking the map that came into focus. “And you’re telling me this why?”

  Even though he knew. He just wanted to see if she’d admit it.

  Devina’s voice was the most level he’d ever heard it: “You need to think long and hard about where you’re at. You’re going to be in a jail for eternity. You’re going to be Nigel.”

  “And you really think I’m going to believe you. About anything.”

  It was satisfying to see her wince as the barb hit home. “I knew you were going to say that,” she whispered thinly. Except then she seemed to recover. “But that doesn’t change what is fact.There is a way out, however.”

  “And what’s that?”

  There was a long pause. “We quit. You and I refuse to play the game anymore.”

  Chapter

  Forty-five

  As Duke drove into his woman again and again, his body was on the best kind of autopilot, no thoughts contaminating the sex, no emotions clouding the purity of the pleasure. The tight hold on his cock was transmuted through every inch of him, each thrust and retreat echoing outward under his skin, everything magnified.

  It had never been like this with anyone for him. Not even Nicole back in
the old days—

  The orgasm slammed into him, locking his hips tight into the cradle of Cait’s pelvis, the rhythmic pulses of her own release milking him, making his head spin. Collapsing against her, he turned his face into her sweet, soft neck and breathed heavily.

  So impatient for her. Every time it seemed like it was the first.

  And he was still hungry.

  But they weren’t taking the chance with doing a double again. Reaching between them, he held on to the base of the condom as he slowly retracted.

  “Where’s your bathroom?” He had paid no attention to anything when they’d come up.

  “Over there.”

  Rolling off, he went in the direction she was pointing, going through a narrow doorway, locating the light switch by patting the wall. His eyes blinked hard as he was momentarily blinded, but then he took care of things, flushing what they’d used, cupping his hands under some cold water and taking a drink.

  It was not a surprise that everything had its place, all the towels hanging precisely on the rail of the sliding shower door, the single toothbrush standing up straight in its holder, no brushes or makeup cluttering the counter around the sink.

  As he straightened and wiped his mouth off, he met his stare in the mirror.

  The unmistakable conviction that he was walking the same path he had before dogged him. G.B. was a seductive son of a bitch … but she wanted Duke. She really did—

  Hadn’t Nicole been the same, though?

  “Shut up,” he told himself. “Just shut the fuck up.”

  “Are you okay?” Cait called out from the bedroom.

  He hit the switch like he could turn off his thoughts, too. And as he walked back out, he hung tight to the way she had just been with him.

  As if to prove a point to himself, he returned to her with a vengence, fusing his flesh with hers, finding her mouth in the dimness, licking his way inside of her. He was instantly hard again, his body raring to go.

  Totally out of his mind, he took her from behind this time, maneuvering her onto her side, moving in tight on her. Easing her top leg up, he swept his palm down her smooth skin, grabbing hold behind her knee. Then he pushed inside, his erection finding her entrance like it knew exactly where to go.

  So smooth, so hot, even deeper, even better.

  Sweeping her hair aside, he bit at her shoulder, nipping at her, before twisting her head around so he could kiss her—but only for a short time. The rhythm got fast quickly, making it impossible to sustain the contact.

  When she called out his name? He nearly came. The only thing that stopped him was that he wanted to concentrate on the feel of her release. He wanted to know that he’d given that to her, that he was that close to the heart of her, that he alone was able to do that for her.

  Cait’s fingernails bit into his side, and the flares of pain nearly pitched him over the edge—except then she went stiff underneath him, and he surged in deep and held still. Closing his eyes, he became acutely aware of everything about her, especially the way her hips moved against him, creating the friction, working herself.

  Just as she was slowing down, he knew it was his turn and he burrowed his arms around her so he could dig—

  “Shit!”

  He withdrew so fast, he nearly flipped off the bed.

  “Duke? What—”

  “No condom.” He rubbed his face. “No condom, damn it, I’m sorry.”

  “Did you—”

  “No, no, I didn’t come.” But talk about not having any game head going. “Thank God.”

  She sat up and brushed her hair back. “Wow.”

  “I’m clean—I never do stuff like this.” And wouldn’t that be more convincing if the mistake itself hadn’t just happened. “I lost my damn mind.”

  “It takes two.”

  “My responsibility.” As he flopped onto his back, he could feel his balls already protesting—and that was going to get worse. “I’m sorry. Shit.”

  His cock lay hard, hot, and aching up on his belly, but that was not going to happen—

  Her gentle hand landed on his hip, and he jumped.

  “You didn’t lie about that, did you,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “You didn’t … you know.”

  Lifting his head, he looked down his own body. “No.” He stopped her before she could make contact. “And it’s okay.”

  She frowned. “Are you trying to punish yourself?”

  “Seems right to. You don’t want to have my kid, trust me.”

  “You stopped in time, Duke. It’s okay.”

  He could tell by the way she slid in beside him that she wanted to help him out, but the burn of denial felt right, felt appropriate.

  A small balance of the scales for him not having taken care of her properly.

  “Duke, please let me—”

  “No, I’m good.” He kissed the top of her head. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “Excuse me?” Jim demanded. Surely he couldn’t have just heard his psychotic enemy suggest that he was going to be the new Nigel … and that that could be avoided only if they pulled out, so to speak.

  Whatever. One thing he was certain of? He absolutely, positively was not going to step into the spats that Nigel had always worn—that was not going to happen. She had to be wrong. Had to be…

  Except the demon didn’t budge, meeting him square in the eye. “You and I quit.”

  He laughed in a hard rush. “You’ve said some fucked-up things, Devina, but this tops ’em all. Congratulations.”

  “The game can’t exist without us. If you refuse to play—”

  “Then you’re going to win the next two rounds and it’s game over. You don’t honestly think I’d fall for that?”

  “But I refuse to play, too. It’s over.”

  Jim crossed his arms over his chest. This whole savior thing had not been presented to him as a choice: Either man up, or your mother is going to be lost to Hell forever. What other option had he had? So, yeah, not a lot of decision-making there for him. And accordingly, it had never dawned on him that he might simply be able to … stop.

  Provided Devina did as well.

  In which case, nobody won—or lost.

  “They’ll just find someone else,” he said, aware that that was a question. “To fill both our shoes.”

  “Wrong. There is nobody else like me. I am a sole creation, unique to the Maker’s vision. Well, I am now that my predecessor’s dead.”

  He could certainly see how one of her was enough for the universe. “This is not up to us.”

  “Bullshit. The Maker may have created everything, but He gave us free will. You think He ordained Nigel to do what he did? Hell, no. Nigel chose that path—and if anything, his actions prove my point. We have choices in this, too.”

  “Not on this level. Not with what you’re talking about.”

  “That is the weakest thought you’ve ever had.”

  “Maybe. But I could still win this, and then I’m rid of you.”

  “No, under the rules, you get to be Nigel for the rest of your unnatural life. You mean to tell me you’re going to be satisfied eating crumpets and babysitting for that castle up there? You’ll lose your fucking mind.”

  Jim paced around, shaking his head. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t take all this at face value. You aren’t exactly known for an altruistic nature.”

  “This whole war is a fucking waste of time. It’s nothing but a contest for His amusement, and I have no intention of being a trick pony for Him anymore—if you also are willing to stand down.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment. The takeaway, Jim supposed, was that even with the win they’d bartered for, she wasn’t sure she could come out on top. Therefore, this plan was her strategy for winning it all: Get Jim to flake out … and then take everything because of a forfeiture.

  Thinking that she was coming at this in any way but for her sole benefit would be like expecting a rattler not to use it
s fangs.

  “I can’t trust you,” he said evenly.

  She jutted forward on those heels of hers. “And I already know your word is for shit—or do I need to remind you that you lied to my face. The difference here is, I’ve never given you a vow to break.”

  “There’s always room for Jell-O, sweetheart.”

  “Try me.”

  “Couldn’t we start with something easier, like you borrowing a fiver from me?”

  “Joke all you want. But I’m right about all this—and do the math. It’s mutually assured destruction, so the playing field is leveled.”

  “Yeah, but come on. Assuming that you’re not fucking me completely, and I really don’t believe that for a heartbeat, do you honestly think if we go to the Maker and hit Him with this, that He’ll be all, ‘Whatever, you guys,’ do you? Not going to happen.”

  “Won’t be the first time He’s hated His creation, I’ll tell you that. And what is He going to do? Make me act if I don’t want to?”

  “But according to you, if Nigel’s dead, my fate’s sealed—so technically, I’m out of the game already.”

  “Not if you quit, Jim. Not if you stop playing right here and now.” When he fell silent, she nodded. “You think about it, and then you call me.”

  Jim expected her to sidle in for a kiss. Instead, she just gave him another long look … and then she was gone into the night.

  Left alone, he turned back to the house, where he had to imagine there was a round two or three going on.

  She hadn’t even tried to get to the soul in play. And she’d shown up without minions, without some sex ploy, with nothing but her charming self, and a bright idea—not her usual MO. But come on, he wasn’t going to be a fool.

  Yeah … the only rationale that made any sense was that she’d decided she really couldn’t win this. Except … they were even, now, and she was arrogant—so he wasn’t sure he could buy that. Then again … they were two-two only because he’d given her one of the rounds.

  Jim wandered slowly back into the house, passing through the door again, sitting back down on the sofa.

  She had a point about the free will thing. Choice had always been part of the human experience, for good and bad. Did that apply to angels and demons, too?