by Larissa Ione
He plopped down on the barrel and stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossing his booted feet at the ankles. “What’s wrong?”
She hesitated, carefully balancing the little bird on a railing and taking a sip of the cocoa to buy some time. She didn’t know how to explain, partly because she didn’t even know why she felt the way she did.
“Cocoa is good,” she murmured. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And you’re stalling.”
Leave it to him to call her out. Still, she sipped again, maybe a little defiantly. Guess she was still feeling bitchy.
Finally, she cupped the mug in her cold hands and looked down at the swirling froth. “I’m afraid, Reseph.” There. She’d said it. “I hate being afraid. It goes against everything I’ve ever lived for. My parents taught me to be strong, and growing up, I was tough. I played sports and got jobs on farms instead of working at fast-food joints like my friends. When I went away to college, I made sure I was the best in all my classes. I never let fear get in the way.” She swallowed. “But now I’m afraid and I don’t know how to handle it.”
“You don’t have to,” he said softly. “I’m here. I won’t let another demon near you. I’ve been researching ways to construct a demon-proof perimeter, and I swear, you’ll be safe.”
Sweet Jesus, he was too good to be true. “It’s not that. It’s not the demons. I mean, they’re scary, but…” She trailed off, the hot cocoa curdling in her belly.
“But what?”
“It’s you,” she whispered. “I know you need to find out who you are, but some small part of me is afraid you will. I know it’s selfish of me, but I like who you are now.”
“I’ll still be the same man, Jillian. I’ll still be me.” He rose and started prowling around the barn, and she got the feeling he was working off frustrated energy. “And you never know… I may never remember my past.”
She watched him straighten the bridles and harnesses hanging on the walls, as if he needed something to do. “You might not get your memory back, but even if we only find out who you are, it could change things. What if you’re something we didn’t expect?”
He swung around to face her. “You said you didn’t believe I was a serial killer or something.”
“I still don’t believe that. But what if you’ve got a family? You said you’re sure you don’t have a wife, but what if you’re wrong? Or what if you’re a politician or big media mogul? Or maybe you’re the king of Oompa-Loompa Land. Just knowing where you belong will change things. And you’ll have to go.”
“Oompa-Loompa Land?” He shook his head. “No way. Orange people give me the creeps. I don’t even like fake tans. I’d never be their king.”
She laughed, but sobered quickly. His humor was one of the things she’d miss after he found out who he was and left her. God, her chest hurt already.
The stray wisps of straw on the concrete floor crunched under his boots as he walked toward her. He took the mug out of her hand and set it on a shelf, and when he swung back around to her, he took her hands. She couldn’t help but notice how small her hands looked in his.
“I can’t promise that you’ll like who I was before you found me. But I can promise that my feelings for you won’t change.” He palmed her cheek, his touch tender, and in that moment, he might as well have reached inside her and stroked her heart instead of her skin. “I know we agreed on no emotional attachments, but I can’t help it; I’m falling for you, Jillian. It’s scaring the shit out of me, because it feels so damned new.” While she stared in stunned silence, he glanced up at the rafters. “It’s strange, because some things feel familiar, like sex and using a computer. And killing that demon. It’s like when you watch a movie and there’s an actor you recognize but can’t place. You know you’ve seen him before, but you can’t remember where.” He returned his gaze to her, his eyes glittering with intensity. “But what I feel for you is so different. It’s like I’ve never seen the actor before. Hell, I haven’t even heard of the damned movie.”
Every word was a prick to the heart. He was falling for her? She should be happy, because like it or not, she was falling for him, too. But this was going to end badly. She’d never been a pessimist, but she’d danced this dance before. Not with an amnesia guy, but with every other guy she’d dated.
“You can’t promise your feelings won’t change,” she rasped. “You could love someone else.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I don’t. I know I don’t. What I feel for you is too foreign. I’d know if I’d felt it before.”
She wanted to believe him, but there just wasn’t enough for her to go on. He didn’t remember his past, so maybe he didn’t remember emotions, either.
“Jillian, if I could guarantee that my feelings wouldn’t change and that I’d stay here no matter what, would that be a good thing?”
“You can’t—” His finger came down on her mouth, shutting her up.
“Hypothetically.”
Reaching up, she wrapped her hand around his and pulled it away. “Hypothetically, yes. It would be a good thing. I’m falling for you, too.”
In a smooth surge, he backed her against a stall and kissed her. Kissed her hard. “Jillian,” he murmured against her mouth. His voice was pained, urgent, and she knew exactly how he felt.
“Shh. I don’t want to hear promises you can’t keep or hollow assurances that everything will be okay. Let’s just make the best of the time we have.” She needed a distraction. A rough, fun escape. And Reseph could give her that. “Remember what you said a few days ago, the first time we had sex? That there would be time for fucking on the hood of my truck or… other things?”
“Oh, yeah. I remember.”
“Good.” She dragged her hand down his chest to his fly, behind which a pronounced bulge already indicated that he was game. “I think it’s time.”
“Yeah?” A wicked smile ruffled his mouth as he leaned into her and put his lips to her ear. “How long has it been since you came so hot, so furious, so fucking intense, that you forgot your own name?”
Oh, God. She’d just forgotten it. “Never,” she whispered. “You?”
“I can’t remember,” he murmured huskily, “but ask me in a few minutes and I’ll have an answer.” He tugged her against him and kissed her. His lips were firm but soft as they melded with hers. She opened to him immediately, but he teased her, taking her bottom lip in his teeth in a gentle show of dominance. A shiver of pleasure skated over her skin. He was an explosive combination of playful but aggressive, tender but strong, commanding but caring… and so very, very male.
Reaching up, she cupped his jaw, savoring the feel of his warm skin under her palm as he kissed his way down her neck. He nuzzled her throat, and with a moan, she rocked her head to the side, granting him more access for that talented mouth. One of his hands remained tamely around her waist, holding her against him, but the other slid beneath her shirt. When his fingers came into contact with her bare belly, she hissed in pleasure.
“I love the sounds you make.” His voice was a smoky drawl. “I’m going to wring them from you until you’re out of breath.”
Her heart pounded so hard it hurt, as if it were trying to get to his hand, which was sliding torturously slowly up her rib cage. He nipped her shoulder blade as his fingertips brushed the underside of her breast, creating an electric sizzle that shot from his mouth to his hand. Sensation rippled through her, stealing her thoughts, her breath, the moisture in her mouth.
With another moan, she palmed his thigh, digging her fingers into his hard muscles to steady herself. There was the slightest hitch in his breath at the contact. He eased his hand up to cup her breast, and they both groaned.
“You’re so beautiful.” His voice was muffled against her shoulder. “I want to feel more of you.”
Oh, yes. If he wanted more, he could have it.
Fifteen
Jillian was a dream come true. Cliché, maybe, but clichés existe
d for a reason, and Jillian was a prime example. She massaged him through his pants, and he was ready for her in about two seconds flat. Hell, he was always ready for her.
Her fingers teased, and with a nimble flick of her wrist, his fly popped open and his cock was in her hand. He hissed in pleasure and then hissed in surprise when she dropped to her knees and jerked his pants down to mid-thigh. Her hands gripped his legs, which twitched under her warm palms as she massaged her way up.
“You have the most incredible birthmark here.” She pressed her lips to his inner thigh, and he sucked air through clenched teeth. “It looks just like an angel’s wing.” Her tongue smoothed over the surface of the mark, and holy hell, erotic fire shot from her mouth to his cock. Major erogenous zone.
“Can we not talk about angels while we’re—” He broke off with a strangled cry as she took him in her mouth. She stroked him with one hand and gripped his hip with the other, her nails digging into his skin.
“Damn,” he said hoarsely. “You’re serious.”
“Mmm-hmm.” The humming vibration around his shaft nearly had him coming right then and there.
He knew what she was doing, using sex to purge emotions and erase reality for a little while. That was fine with him, especially when her tongue flicked over the sensitive head as she moved her lips up and down, swallowing when he was deep.
Pleasure was a hot wave that crashed over him with every nibble, suck, and swipe of Jillian’s tongue on his cock. Needing to touch her, he drove his hands into her lush hair and watched as his shaft disappeared into her eager mouth.
“Ah… damn,” he whispered. “Holy… yeah.” He groaned, bucked when she dropped one hand to cup his balls.
Man, she was good at this. Too good, and he wasn’t going to last another ten seconds.
Harnessing his libido—barely—he hauled Jillian to her feet, ripped open her jeans, and jerked them down to where they tangled around her boots. He didn’t need her completely free to move around. Sometimes, a little bondage was a good thing.
He straightened, let out a low growl when he reached the apex of her thighs, and gave her a deep, slow lick on the way up. Her eyes darkened, her pupils swallowing the smoldering green of her irises, and her lip twitched in a naughty smile.
He spun her, catching her around the waist so his shaft was cradled by the soft seam of her ass, and held her that way as he kissed and nipped her ear and neck. She pushed back against him, but no, this was his show. She’d started it, but he’d finish it.
“Not giving you what you want yet, my girl,” he said roughly, and then he pushed her forward and bent her over the saddle draped on a nearby sawhorse.
He went down on his heels behind her and used his thumbs to spread her succulent flesh. The tangle of her jeans around her ankles kept access to a minimum, but that was ideal for teasing.
And Reseph loved to tease.
Her breathing became ragged when he flicked his tongue around the rim of her opening. She tasted like a sparkling mineral spring and her own rich essence, and he was definitely going to drink his fill later.
She wiggled her ass, her impatience becoming clear, the greedy minx. He appreciated how demanding she was, how absolutely uninhibited. He gave her what she wanted, pushing inside her and thrusting, fucking her core with his tongue.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Oh… yes.”
Her climax was coming, but he denied her, instead slowing things down, giving her several slow, shallow licks before diving deep again, licking and sucking and pumping until she cried out in release. He didn’t bring her down slowly the way he usually did. Instead, he surged to his feet, dug into his pocket for a condom, and sheathed himself.
“Aren’t you the Boy Scout,” she rasped.
“I want to be ready to take you anytime, anywhere,” he said on a shallow breath, and entered her in one smooth thrust.
The jeans around her ankles didn’t allow for deep penetration, but this position delivered different sensations, more skin on skin and a tighter fit. He pounded into her, his hips pistoning back and forth in an unrelenting rhythm.
“Is this what you wanted?”
“Yes.” She moaned, pushing back against him, meeting every thrust. She was still trying to take control. Not happening.
He pulled out, and she whined in disappointment. Dropping to his heels again, he ripped off one of her boots and jerked her foot out of the jeans. He gave her another lick between the legs on the way back up, and then he lifted her onto the saddle draped over the sawhorse, forcing her to straddle it backward. The saddle, which she’d had specially made to allow for easy mounting and dismounting while Sam was hauling farm supplies, featured an almost nonexistent cantle and pommel, which would prove handy for what Reseph had planned.
“What are you doing?” She watched him with curiosity, her gaze heavy-lidded and smoky.
He didn’t respond. Roughly, he straddled the sawhorse, keeping his feet planted firmly on the floor as he gripped Jillian’s knees and forced them up so she had no leverage and was leaning back against the saddle’s shallow pommel. Moving forward, he entered her again. She gripped his shoulders and squeezed his waist between her knees as he drove into her. The position was awkward and unsteady, forcing him to lean forward and take shallow thrusts, but he relished the unique sensation, and if her soft cries were any indication, she was loving it, too.
Pleasure washed over him, euphoria that inflamed his entire body. He didn’t last, and the moment she cried out at her peak, he went with her, agonizing ecstasy shooting through his balls and shaft, going on and on, and as the first orgasm waned, another started up. Jillian came with him again on his third, his name breaking from her lips.
Gradually, the sexual storm passed, and he fell forward, arms and legs trembling, to catch himself on the sawhorse. Jillian’s mouth found his, and her slow, tender kiss made him tremble for a different reason.
He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was falling for her. With every passing day, she became more and more the air he breathed. When she wasn’t around, he felt empty, restless. When she was there, he calmed and found a sense of peace that was just… right. And now that the demon was dead, he could tell himself that the vision and whispered voice in his head was imagined.
“Thank you,” she said against his lips.
He pulled back a little. “Are you crazy? I should be thanking you.”
“You know how you can thank me?”
“How?” Lick her until she screamed? Caress every inch of her body until she begged him to stop?
“You can dig the second snowmobile out of the garage and gas it up.”
He blinked. He could lick her on a snowmobile, he supposed. “You have plans?”
“We’re going to go have fun. Snowmobiling and snowmobile-cooking.” He must have looked confused as hell, because she laughed and said, “You put meat and veggies in a foil wrapper and pop it under the sled’s hood next to the exhaust pipe. When you get tired of riding, you stop and your food is cooked.”
“Babe, you keep surprising me.” He eyed her with a whole new appreciation for her sense of adventure. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Lance McKinney sat with two fellow Elders at his desk at Aegis headquarters in Scotland. Juan and Delia were both nursing cold cups of coffee, which had more to do with the fact that the castle was always freezing than anything else.
“Have the outposts in Australia and Japan been reestablished?” He glanced at Delia, their newest Elder. The stout, dark-haired woman had been with The Aegis for twenty years and had been Regent at one of the Barcelona cells before almost everyone who worked under her was killed by Pestilence’s minions.
She nodded. “We’ve only got enough Guardians for one cell in Japan.” She handed him a report from the Tokyo Regent. “We’re barely at half-staff in the Sydney cell, but that’ll change as more evacuees make their way back.”
Fuck, there was a lot of rebuilding to be done. The near-Apocalypse had
just about destroyed several countries and had killed millions of people. Now, three months later, disease and starvation were wracking some of the worst-hit areas. The fools at DART insisted that the infections and starvation were a natural result of disaster, but The Aegis wasn’t convinced. Pestilence was rumored to be dead, but what if he was still killing people through his diseases? And then there was Famine, or Limos, as her sympathizers called her. She could be causing the mass starvation.
Man, Lance fucking hated Horsemen. He hated even more that humans needed them. The evil Apocalypse, which would have put the Horsemen on the demons’ side of the fight, had been averted, but there was still a Biblical Apocalypse in mankind’s future. This time, when their Seals broke, the Horsemen were supposed to ally themselves with humans and battle demons right alongside The Aegis.
Except that the Horsemen hated The Aegis, and Lance had no doubt that if those bastards ever learned the location of Aegis headquarters, Aegi would become an extinct species.
There was a tap at the door, and Omar, one of the original twelve Elders, strode in, his expression grim. “You aren’t going to like this.” He flexed his hands at his sides. “Aaron has been monitoring reports of possible demon activity in the American Rocky Mountains. Nothing overly unusual, but DART has reported to investigate.”
Lance yawned. “And? Those pussies will probably capture the demon and try to rehabilitate it or some shit. Why do we care?”
“That’s what I thought at first. Then yesterday Aaron noticed an usual surge in Internet searches related to demons coming from a town called Bardsley. The interesting thing is that a lot of the searches have to do with the name Reseph.”
Lance sat up a little straighter. “Reseph is Pestilence’s human name.”
“Yes, but the name is also linked to historical places and gods, so Aaron yellow-flagged it to keep an eye out, but the name didn’t go red flag.” Omar’s lips thinned into a slash of disapproval. “Until today.”