Only You (UnHallowed Series Book 3)

by Tmonique Stephens

  Amaya hissed, “Yes!” and stretched her arms above her head and buried her face in the mattress, her body at his mercy.

  He leaned over and licked between her shoulder blades, then wrapped the length of her hair around his hand and pulled back. “I want to hear it when you come.”

  “Bane!” Back bowed, mouth open on a breathy cry, she convulsed around his cock, her walls clenching, sucking at him, demanding he follow her off the cliff and plunge into bliss.

  He pulled out, flipped her over, and thrust inside her heat again. Her entire body vibrated. It was the most exquisite feeling, having your woman vibrating around your cock and knowing you were the one to take her there.

  He stretched one of her legs up, going deeper, pounding harder. The scent of the sex, the sounds of their bodies coming together, pushed him closer to the precipice. He loomed over her, the most beautiful being he’d ever seen, with her muscles straining and her cheeks flushed from the passion arching between them.

  Needing his mouth on her body, he reached for her and brought himself to her breast. He pulled her nipple into his mouth, rolling the tip around his tongue, scrapping the tight bud with his teeth. Fingers in his hair, she pressed him closer and worked her hips. Hell, he couldn’t take much more, not with the blistering passion scorching him. His balls begged for release.

  She cupped his face, snaked her tongue into his mouth, mimicked what his cock was doing to her pussy, and whispered, “Come with me, baby,” as another ripple of her walls squeezed him, and her eyes rolled back.

  That’s exactly what he did. His seed shot out of his cock into her tight passage with a violence he’d never experienced. It went on and on, draining his every thought, stealing his strength, and most of his sanity.

  “Amaya,” he cried out, her name a benediction.

  Exhausted, he flopped to the side of her. She threw an arm over his chest and snuggled next to him. He drifted off knowing he’d found his heaven and he would never—ever—let it go.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “Malphas, what happened to him?” Amaya licked peanut butter off her fingers. They sat in front of the open refrigerator with a spread of food. Banana peppers and olives, chips and salsa, oatmeal raisin cookies, crackers and Cheese Whiz. They found pistachio Haagen-Dazs in the freezer and used the stale cookies as spoons.

  “He’s alive. Healing. Daghony and Ioath are with him in a hotel, on our dime since he’s broke.”

  She couldn’t deny she was pleased Malphas wasn’t dead. That Demoni Lord had gotten under her skin. She didn’t love him, but she did like him.

  They had won the battle. Claimed the prize. But a single battle was not the war. More shit headed their way and they needed a Demoni Lord on their side. Even an annoying one. She popped an olive into her mouth and eyed Bane. “That kiss. I allowed it.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  “I know.” His flat voice was diametrically opposed to the crimson blazing from his eyes.

  Guilt twisted her gut. “I was curious. Not about him. About this thing between us.”

  “This thing between us?” He swept the food out of the way and hauled her to him. He took her throat in a gentle caress, licked his way from her collar to her lips and stopped when she was ready for more. “This thing between us is a living, breathing entity that will not die. Understand?” He ended on a soft growl, crimson swallowed his irises.

  Amaya reached for the can of Ready Whip they’d found in the refrigerator door. She shook it, listening to it rattle. Watched his nostrils flare and his lips peel back in a wicked grin. “Yeah,” she growled back. “I understand.” The can was empty when they were done and the kitchen was properly christened.

  At dusk, they walked the property and made plans to expand. She wanted a garden, a small one, she could manage on her own. “And satellite TV to keep track of everything in the world. And a new dining table for the one you dented.” Bane didn’t argue.

  He buried the Cruor in the basement—not displayed in the master bedroom as she wanted—beneath the pool table, a place where most of the UnHallowed gathered, though the place was currently empty.

  “I told them to stay away. I wanted to be alone with you,” he said, and they ended up horizontal in front of the fireplace surrounded by candles, where he presented her with a single white and red tipped feather. He went back to Siberia to find it. Amaya couldn’t possibly love him more.

  Bane led her into the pool, yet again. “Don’t be afraid.”

  “After what we’ve survived? The water better be afraid of me.”

  He took her into the deep end, taught her how to float. The water felt wonderful slushing around her naked skin. She angled her head toward Bane who floated next to her. He sported a tan. Days in the sun had done his body good.

  She couldn’t possibly still be aroused after the amount of time they’d made love, yet she still hungered for him. Bane guided her into the depths of the pool. Free of gravity, the sensation was close to flying. Yet, she missed her wings. She missed the air caressing her feathers, filling her lungs. She missed Braile. The part of her Braile filled was now hollow and weak. The strength she’d gained from absorbing Braile’s essence was gone, along with the wings. She was herself again. Just Amaya.

  Why did that sound like so much less?

  Amaya broke the surface of the water and inhaled. She climbed out of the pool and retrieved her phone off the table. Six minutes submerged. The human limit. Completely normal.

  She didn’t need to turn around to know Bane was at her back. His hand touched her waist, the heat of his palm warming her. “Do you miss them, your wings?”

  His hand tightened, then seemed to absently caress her hip. His sigh brushed the top of her head. “Every day.”

  She turned in his arms and met his gaze. Sorrow wasn’t what she found looking into his eyes, after all, he’d lost his wings millennia ago. “What color were they?”

  His eyes drifted closed and a smile flirted with his lips. “Midnight blue with white flecks to blend with the night sky.” When he opened his eyes, the aquamarine coloring had deepened, mimicking midnight blue.

  It wasn’t hard to imagine him soaring in the sky, invisible to the human sheep grazing below.

  “There are many ways to fly, Amaya. Like when I’m inside of you.” He brought her in for a kiss, but she stopped him with a hand to the center of his chest.

  Sharing a life meant sharing everything together. It was the only way they would work, had to be all or nothing. She couldn’t ask for his all and, in return, give nothing.

  “The first time we met, you asked me who my parents were.” His hands stopped making circles on her hips. She inhaled a steady breath in order to share what she’d never shared with anyone.

  “I didn’t lie. Richard and Nicole Prince were my parents. They were killed on a dirt road, officially it was ruled a car accident. My mother was barely seven months along with me. I should’ve died with her. Braile, he saved me. He cut me out of her womb. Said he heard my prayer. That was the first time he gave me his grace, he opened my chest and poured it right onto my heart. He made me who I am.”

  “No.” Bane tipped her chin up and kissed her. “A fetus calling to the Chancellor of the Celestial Army… You are who you were meant to be, regardless of angelic grace. Braile only facilitated the change. Never forget that.”

  Another reason to love him. He brought her close for another kiss as her stomach growled. She ducked her head. One kiss would lead to them being horizontal again and she wanted food that she hadn’t cooked. “Let’s go out to dinner. The walls are starting to close in on me.”

  He dropped a kiss on her shoulder. “The passenger always dies, is how the saying goes, right?”

  She tossed back her head and laughed. “A big bad fallen angel and you’re afraid of a little car ride?”

  ~~~~~

  “I don’t understand the plot of this show.”

  “What’s not to understand? The explanation i
s in the title,” she said around the popcorn she’d just stuffed in her mouth. Cuddled in bed, her back warmed by Bane’s hard chest, the laptop was at the end of the bed as they binged on The Walking Dead.

  “How did the Walkers come to be? When will they explain that?” he complained.

  “They don’t.”

  “Well, if they don’t know how it started, how will they cure it?”

  She angled her head to meet his gaze. “It’s not about the cure. It’s about the survival.”

  He rubbed his jaw. “I can understand that. It’s not about what you lost, it’s how to endure without it. I still want to know how it began.” He leaned in, buried his nose in her hair, and sighed.

  Lately, she’d kept it loose. Bane loved it that way and she loved every time he pulled her close for an intimate sniff. He made her feel dainty and feminine and tingly and special. None of which she’d ever thought she’d experience. It made her love him more.

  He kissed her. His taste mixed with the butter and salt on her lips. He was delicious. Show forgotten. Popcorn shoved aside, she stroked his bare chest, caressed his flat nipples, garnering a harsh purr. His hand slid under her tee and—

  Bane lurched away from her.

  No, not lurched. He was yanked away from her, pulled by some unforeseen force out of the bed, and pulled through the closed window.

  She jumped up and ran to the shattered window, expecting to see him on the ground by the porch. Instead, he was yards away, at the edge of the lawn.

  “What happened? How did you get there?” she shouted.

  Bane didn’t answer. He just stood there, in the road, his hands up, his mouth open as if he were speaking, yet she heard nothing.

  “Bane?”

  Something wasn’t right. She ran out of her bedroom and made it halfway down the stairs when the front door opened and footsteps echoed in the tiny foyer. All of her senses flipped.

  But it was Bane. Wasn’t it?

  She gripped the banister and took one more step, her ears perked, her eyes straining, even though late afternoon sunlight poured through the windows. Something scraped across the floor. The staircase faced the rear of the house, not the front. She had no view of the front door, but…it had to be Bane.

  Wood creaked beneath her feet when she took another step. Her muscles tightened in expectation of violence. Whoever was in her house, it wasn’t an UnHallowed, and it wasn’t Bane, she finally admitted.

  Her weapons! She needed them.

  She had to get to her storage chest at the foot of her bed. Her feet were swept out from under her and she was dragged down the stairs and flung into the kitchen. She skidded across the breakfast table, scattering the salt and pepper shakers and napkin holder. The table tilted and went tumbling with her. Rolling saved her from being buried beneath it. She slammed into the wall and leapt to her feet.

  Fists raised, she faced Taige.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Amaya!” Bane beat on the walls of the invisible barrier keeping him from the house. There was only one way this could’ve happened. Someone had changed the deed to the land, removed his and Amaya’s names, and replaced it with their own. A demon couldn’t enter a private residence without permission, which locked him out. But Amaya was human, and even if she still had Braile’s essence, she wouldn’t be hindered. She was in the house—with a demon. It couldn’t be anything else. But which—

  The air in front of the porch shimmered and coalesced into a spinning orb. A dimensional pocket formed. When it dissipated, Taige remained. Completely healed in a three-piece suit, he threw up the deuces sign, waved a piece of paper, and sauntered into his new house.

  A roar came from the pit of Bane’s nonexistent soul. He channeled the absolute fury blanketing him into the barrier blocking him from Amaya, and ended up pitched one hundred feet into the open field across the street. He was on his feet again, blades in his hands.

  He stopped short at the unusual weight in his palms. “What the fuck!”

  The blades in his hands weren’t the ordinary steel he’d used since the Great Betrayal. The blades in his hands were longer, sharper, cosmically balanced, divine, and the edge glowed—midnight blue—the same color as his long gone wings.

  Power he hadn’t felt in ages burned up his arms. He raced back to the barrier, struck it once, and was airborne again. This time the impact broke bones.

  He climbed to his feet, clutching the broken ribs on his right side, ready for another go at it, when Daghony and Kush blocked his path, the rest of the UnHallowed coming up fast behind them.

  “What happened?” Daghony demanded as he steadied Bane.

  “Taige. The bastard is alive and in the house with Amaya.”

  Daghony took to the skies, along with Riél and Sam. Bane joined Rimmon, Zed, Kush, Ioath, and Gadreel at the barrier. Chay was the only one absent.

  “That wily fucker,” Rimmon muttered. “We should’ve foreseen this when he did the same to Malphas.”

  “We thought the demon was dead, burned to a crisp,” Zed growled.

  “We were wrong.” Bane shoved Zed out of his way. Unbearable impotence faced him as he stared at the house unable to hear anything, but knowing—at this precise moment—Amaya fought for her life.

  Sam landed with an earth-rattling thud. The grimness tightening his features was all Bane needed to know.

  “Is there any way to get the deed changed back?” Ioath said.

  Rimmon shook his head. “Not in time. Besides, we don’t kno—”

  “Taige has the deed with him. I saw it,” Bane said.

  He didn’t need to see their faces to know what little hope they’d have just withered. Bane kept his focus on the house. But then he tilted his head to the heavens and closed his eyes.

  Father, please. Save her.

  Nothing else he could say, promise or beg. Either Father would give him aid or He would not.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  “He’s holding empyreal steel?”

  Bane opened his eyes in time to see a body crashing through the front door and land in front of the porch.

  ~~~~~

  “Taige. You’re looking well.” Amaya settled into her haunches and waited while Taige adjusted his cufflinks and straightened his tie. He stepped into the kitchen, his gaze scanning the room. His eyes narrowed on the open door leading to the basement.

  Amaya couldn’t let him into the basement. Even with the Cruor buried, it was too much of a risk. “How did you get in here?”

  He waved a piece of paper around. “I bought the place out from under you. All it cost was the filing fee.” He tapped his forehead. “Mind control, a beautiful thing. Now I own the property and the UnHallowed can’t enter.”

  He lunged for her. She feinted left, evaded his outstretched arms, and delivered an elbow to the back of his neck. He went down while she kept moving forward. Her goal—get out of the kitchen, get back upstairs to her weapons.

  But she needed to be armed now. She yanked free two steak knives from the butcher’s block. They were horribly balanced, yet she took aim and let them fly. She missed center mass by five inches, nailing him in the shoulder with both. She yanked the cleaver free and let that fly.

  Taige moved his head a fraction and the cleaver embedded in the wall behind his head.

  That’s the best you can do now that you’re just a human? No, less than human. You’re nothing but a weak, bleeding female,” he snorted. “And I’m tired of playing with you.” He shed his skin, peeled it right off his form, and flung it and the knives away like trash tossed out of a moving car.

  Panic swallowed her. She could defeat the man, but the demon beneath the façade… She’d already lost to it. And would lose to it again if she didn’t get her damn weapons.

  This weak, bleeding female still had a few surprises left.

  Amaya ran for the stairs and was sideswiped through the kitchen wall. Plaster and wood gouged her bare arms and legs. “Pain is relative,” Braile
often said when she whined. “Use it to achieve your goal.”

  She climbed to her feet but not in time to evade the claws snagging her shirt, dragging her across the dining table. She grabbed a chair and smashed it against him. Lips peeled back exposing several rows of serrated teeth, Taige glared at her, contempt bleeding from his crimson eyes positioned on either side of his protruding head.

  He brushed off the splinters and stalked her. She put the dining table between them, hoping to give her time to think. Find something. Anything to give her a chance. One fist to the table split it in two, then he had her by the throat and smashed her through another wall. She crashed into the sideboard, shattering bottles of liquor as she went skiing over the top, and tumbled over the back of the sofa. Momentum had her rolling off the cushion to bang her head on the end table.

  Everything doubled, including Taige at the entrance of the living room. No time for dizziness, Amaya forced herself to her knees. She slipped on the stone pavers lining the fireplace and went down amidst a pool of liquor and glass shards. Her knees and hands suffered slices to both.

  A long black tongue snaked out of his mouth to taste the air. “You’ve lost the angelic taint in your blood, but it remains sweet. I will drink you dry in front of your man.”

  A bottle clanked as it rolled to her knee. She picked it up, intending on breaking it and using the jagged pieces to defend herself, but what was in the bottle was more important than the weapon it could be. The butane lighter on the mantle remained where she’d left it after their romantic night. One flick and light would jump from the end. Not wanting to tip her hand, she waited to grab the bottle at her knee.

  She needed him closer to make her move—her only move.

  Taige entered the room at a leisurely stroll. His claws gouged the wall and hardwood floor. He had her cornered unless she chose to go out the glass door, into the backyard and into the pool. Maybe I should, except… Her best chance was to finish it here. Die by fire or by water. Shit. Neither choice held any appeal, but today, one of them would die.