Only You (UnHallowed Series Book 3)

by Tmonique Stephens

  Amaya snatched both the lighter and the bottle up. She caught the name on the label, Everclear, as it rolled in her hand before she threw it. One second after the vodka shattered on Taige’s waxy face and splashed over his shoulders. She snatched the lighter off the mantle, pressed the switch on the lighter, and rushed forward. Skidding to a stop just short of touching him, she used the orange flame to ignite the one hundred and ninety proof liquor.

  Blue flames licked over his waxy skin as Amaya darted out of range. He latched onto her arm and twisted. Either she’d go with the flow or have her shoulder dislocated. Amaya followed the twisting motion and ended up flipped on her back with Taige burning over her. Flames danced from her to the sofa, next to the curtains, and shutters. The Berber rug, soaked in vodka, went up in flames, scorching her legs.

  She brought her feet up and kicked his chin, once, twice. His fist came at her forehead. She angled her head away and suffered a glancing blow to her temple. It was enough to knock her senseless.

  The fight went out of her as flames raced up the walls and lapped at the ceiling. Though limp, smoke filled her lungs. She choked, spewed blood, and felt the droplets rain on her skin.

  Get up. Move.

  Taige’s burning face filled her vision. “You think to burn me when I’ve bathed in Hell’s inferno. How fucking stupid can you be?” He snatched her by the hair and dragged her through the flames—her fingers circled the throat of the broken Everclear bottle.

  They passed through the foyer where he kicked open the front door and flung her through it. She didn’t have a chance to brace when she crashed into the post holding up the porch.

  The roof collapsed while she rolled across the overgrown grass and flopped to a stop on her stomach.

  Pain is relative, my ass. Parts of her were scorched. The rest of her was bruised and battered. No rapid healing to shave the pain. A shallow gulp of fresh air filled her lungs, re-firing her brain cells in time to be hauled to her knees by a hand fisting her hair and yanking. He’d done it too many times for her scalp to care. Plus, compared to all her other aches, this didn’t make a blip on her radar.

  Bane pounded on an invisible barrier blocking him from her, mere inches. So close, yet he may as well be a mile away. The anguish on his face centered her, narrowed her focus to this moment. She’d finally found what she’d always searched for just to lose it now.

  “UnHallowed!” Taige shouted. “Watch me take from you everything you took from me.”

  I won’t lose it, not to this piece of shit.

  Still holding the broken vodka bottle in her hand, the jagged, sharp edges were a means to an end. Everclear. The name profound and prophetic. Everything was clear. Crystal.

  Amaya buried the jagged pieces of Everclear into Taige’s stomach as deep as it could go and dragged it across. A hot oily substance rushed out, covering her in the sewage that filled his gut. His blood ate through her skin, but she had to finish the job.

  “That tickled.” Though he rushed to cover the wound with his free hand.

  Amaya yanked the bottle free and jammed it in the arm holding her. She stabbed deep, struck bone. The hand went limp, but his fingers were still wrapped around her hair. She freed the bottle from his arm and hacked at her hair. Wasn’t enough. She had to get away.

  Strands of hair snapped free, ripped from her scalp. Another swipe and she could angle her neck away from Taige. A final wrench and Amaya was free. Taige tried to use his arm as a club. She ducked beneath and scrambled to her feet.

  Still dizzy, she risked a roundhouse kick to his gut. She landed in the dirt, but Taige stumbled back, gaining her a few desperate seconds. She glanced at Bane and the UnHallowed on the other side of the barrier. Dark waves of energy pulsed from their palms aiming at a vibrating focal point. Bane signaled at her. Run, he mouthed. Maybe they would break through. Maybe she could pass through the barrier, unharmed, into the safety of his arms.

  If they didn’t break through, the Cruor would fall into Taige’s hands. With them stuck on the other side of the barrier, he’d dig up the portal and she’d have to go back in—probably alone—to fight him all over again. Better to finish this now. The only way she could.

  She had to get back into the house. No! She had to get to her bedroom—the bedroom with thick, gray smoke billowing out of its destroyed window.

  Flames devoured the front of the house. She couldn’t go back inside. Though, she could use the destroyed porch to climb her way to her bedroom window. Half of the roof had collapsed at a slope, the perfect angle to reach the window.

  She raced for it. One leap and her bare feet skipped over the hot tiles. She gripped the edge of the window and hauled herself over the sharp pieces of wood, brick, and jutting nails. Something pierced her abdomen—a nail, a splinter—a hand grabbed her ankle. She screamed when she was dragged backward, opening a two-inch tear in her flank. Her other foot connected with something solid. Momentarily free, she ignored the pain and shimmied into the room.

  Thick, black smoke obscured everything. Her bedroom had become a foreign landscape she had to navigate by memory. Heat had warped the hardwood burning the soles of her feet. In some places, the patches of orange had seconds to breach the room.

  A crash sounded behind her. Pausing equaled her death, and Taige winning. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

  “Where is it!” she croaked. It wasn’t in the corner where it had been since she woke four days ago. A loud crack broke through the sound of the blaze. The room rocked and lurched to the left as a supporting wall gave way. She rolled and banged into the dresser. Taige stood by the window, triple-jointed legs, six toes on his clawed feet planted firmly, riding the shifting structure. The wound she’d inflicted had closed. His mouth opened, exposing rows of teeth.

  The room shifted again and she skidded across the floor. She scrambled for purchase on the hot hardwood while Taige moved steadily forward, unconcerned by the inferno closing in.

  The room pitched to the side as something else gave way to the flames. She rolled and flopped onto her back near the bed. Flames glinted off something shiny. That’s when she spotted the ivory and empyreal hilt sticking out from under the smoldering bed. Taige leapt into the air. In seconds, he would land on her. Chances were they’d crash through the buckling floor and into the fire below. He’d survive. She’d fry.

  Amaya grabbed the weapon. She whipped the sword out, anchored the hilt on the floor, and aimed the tip at the center of his chest. Her grin was a poster-sized Fuck You as his eyes widened in horror.

  The bastard twisted his body and managed to land off the bed, one bounce and he was back out of the window they’d crawled through.

  This time, it was Amaya following him to the front lawn. She leapt from the window, sword clasped in her hand.

  He landed, kicking up dirt, forming a small crater.

  She landed on top of him—the empyreal blade lodged five inches inside his body.

  All at once, Braile’s scent filled her nostrils. Renewed strength and healing poured into her. And she knew, at that moment, she knew what he’d done. The very last of him, the final drop, Braile had willed to her.

  Amaya had a split second of elation, then power surged under her skin, collected in the center of her chest, and raced back down to her fingers. It zigzagged to each atom and burst out of the tip. She watched as the light wrapped around him in successive waves, tightening, ever tightening. Bones cracked. Protruded through the skin. Oily essence seeped from every opening and his strangled scream split the night.

  Amaya shushed him and took a knee beside what was his shoulder. “Today. You die. Do so quietly.”

  “T-think y-you’ve won. I-I won.”

  Amaya took pleasure in his stuttering broken speech and body. She’d worry about her response later, right now, she eased closer to his ear. “The only thing you’ve won is an unmarked grave. I’m going to bury you in that field across the street so I can see the spot every time I leave my house.”

&n
bsp; Behind her, the roof caved in.

  Oily residue covered his once bright grin. “I-I won because I know w-what you don’t know.”

  Humoring a dead man couldn’t hurt, might actually earn her some points in Heaven. “So tell me. You have a couple of seconds left. Tell me what I don’t know,” she coaxed.

  The features of the Spaun receded and the human she’d first met returned. His lips parted and he coughed, splattering her face with his oily essence. Her skin burned, but she refused to look away. She wiped the nastiness away and kept her eyes on the prize, Taige’s death, not wanting to miss any exquisite second. The light intensified into a blue beam. His bones crunched.

  Scream.

  Snapped.

  Scream.

  Grind.

  Scream.

  The light burned brighter, white and red pulses would have fried them both if the sword hadn’t accepted her ownership. The two shared a primal snarl, both showing all their teeth. His eyes fully crimson. Hers fully green.

  “It’s not over,” he got out, then painstakingly withered to ash.

  “Wrong, fucker. It’s over for you.” Her knees buckled but she never touched the ground. Arms yanked her into a hard embrace. No words were necessary, not to Bane and not to the UnHallowed surrounding her.

  Smothered in Bane’s arms, she let go of the sword and held on to what mattered, Bane and her new family. She may have fought and won this battle by herself, but she was never alone. Finally, she’d found where she belonged.

  Epilogue

  Cocooned in the softest sheets ever created, Gemma undulated slowly. Her nipples were hard pebbles scoring the sheets. Between her legs, an insistent pressure had moisture pooling. A fever had taken hold. The heat started between her legs and radiated to the tips of her fingers and toes, and to the ends of her hair. A bonfire didn’t burn as brightly as her insides.

  She had no knowledge of this type of pain that left you writhing, dying, yet ready to plead for more. She tried to move, escape the unrelenting heat scorching her. Escape was impossible when every twinge brought the most exquisite torture. Torture she wanted, could easily crave if she were so weak of mind and of flesh.

  Her core clenched and an unexpected ripple cascaded through her body. She moaned, couldn’t help it. It hurt. Pleasure wasn’t supposed to hurt. Was it? Having no carnal knowledge left her at a distinct disadvantage.

  She wouldn’t give in. Fighting was what she’d trained her entire existence for and what she’d do now. Approaching this as she would any battle would save her. Focus on the objective. Channeling all her energy into the outcome she desired would get her the result she wanted.

  Something touched her nipples with a gentle caress. Not the sheet. That was now pooled at her waist. Was it the air? It had to be the air causing her nipples to pebble into hard peaks because he was still across the room, sitting in a canvas chair, long legs stretched out, hands casually folded in his lap, completely relaxed while she died in a web of lust.

  Her back arched a foot off the bed and a long protracted moan rushed from her parted lips. Hot, wet heat had just licked over her nipple. She cried out, jolted by the surprise. “Please.”

  Ask and it shall be yours. The words slid across her mind, another caress.

  “Stop this-this torment.”

  No. Anything except that.

  Another lick of heat assaulted her other nipple. Another moan escaped. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  Because this is what you desire.

  “Lies! I never told you that.” Her pelvis thrust forward in a lewd pantomime. The sheet! It was gone and she hadn’t the energy to search for it. She hadn’t the energy to do anything except lay in the center of a massive bed inside of a tent, in the bowels of Hell.

  She snapped her knees together and curled into a fetal position. That didn’t alleviate the pain—pleasure. In fact, both ratcheted up several notches which left a strange hollowness inside. Something was missing. Something she’d never needed but was now imperative to her sanity.

  A hand stroked from her nape to her hip, slowly, reverently, then traveled the same path back to her nape. Teeth nipped her neck, then soothed the sting with a lick. She shuddered and angled her neck for more.

  Your body told me everything I needed to know.

  Expecting to find him sharing the bed with her, Gemma rolled over to find an empty space. He hadn’t moved from the chair, hadn’t even adjusted his position. Partially cloaked in shadows, she couldn’t see his face, couldn’t see his expression, but he watched her every move. With gold-rimmed eyes. Impossible! Yet true.

  “What did it tell you that I couldn’t have?”

  That you’re ready to be taken, hard. Your body is ready to give up all its secrets to me and none other.

  She tensed, prepared to strike. “Rape then.”

  His hands curled into fists.

  “I will kill you.”

  With a languid grace, he uncurled his oversized, muscled body from the chair and approached, shadows clung to his face, only his face, while the rest of him was gloriously displayed. He was tall, well-formed by the way the thin shirt defined his chest and abdomen. A short toga-like shirt covered him to mid-thigh. His legs were toned, tanned, thighs muscular. It was impossible not to be distracted by the display.

  Whatever I take from you will be freely given, on this, I swear.

  “What is the worth of a promise from a Demoni Lord?” she sneered, regaining a portion of her balance.

  When it comes to you, everything. His knee sunk into the plush mattress and he lowered himself at her feet. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned to hours, or, maybe her mind had fractured and all of this wasn’t real.

  His hand circled her ankle. A startled cry ripped from her as a jolt of electricity raced from her ankle, up her spine, and exploded in her brain. She’d been touched before, her hand, her shoulder, never, ever like this. Those brief connections had never provoked this combustible reaction.

  She tried to remain still, show no effect of his touch on her skin even though her insides quaked. Then his hand traveled to her calf, next to her knee. She moaned long and deep and didn’t stop until his hand touched her rear.

  A little voice inside her head whispered, Fight him. She answered with, Why? I’m trapped in Hell with no rescue coming, else it would have already came.

  His fingers stroked her thigh, moved up to her hip. He leaned into her, his chest pressed to her sealed knees. He kneaded her hips, both of them, massaged her flesh, relaxing her.

  Fight him. Insistent.

  No. I want to know.

  Her knees parted. She got the sense he smiled at his victory and wanted to kick him…until his fingers swept to her inner thighs.

  He gripped her soft flesh and then, spread her wide. Why must I decide which to do first? Touch, lick, or fuck. Perhaps I should ask my brothers to join us so you can experience it all.

  She struck fast. A punch to his throat knocked him off balance. He fell to the side, dazed. Gemma straddled his chest, pinned his arms beneath her knees. The position was precarious, leverage fleeting, but she bore down with all her weight, her fist ready to turn his face into pulp.

  A poor joke. I am new at humor. I will never share you. Not a single inch.

  Faster than she could react, he grabbed her hips, lifted her, and dropped her onto his face. His tongue parted her nether lips and snaked inside her core. One lick and reason fled. Second lick and her fingers fisted his hair to hold him in place. Third lick poured nitrogen into her veins. Fourth lick a flame took life at the head of a single match. Fifth lick and the seams holding Gemma’s mind together unraveled.

  She screamed from pleasure so intense it bordered on agony. Her body throbbed, every part of her and all of it centered on his tongue plying her core. Spent, she slumped, fell to the side, and landed in a heap next to him. Ripples of pleasure tripped along her nerve endings. She touched herself, her stomach, thighs, breasts, lastly her nipples. They were
still puckered. Another ripple coursed through her and she basked in the afterglow.

  Another few moments and she came back to herself. She focused on the pinnacle of the tent keeping the structure upright, on the sweat clinging to her flushed skin, the tiny pulses between her legs refusing to cease, and the cool sheets beneath her back. Then she reached for him.

  And found an empty space.

  Confused, Gemma shot upright. Shock replaced the passion cooling in her veins. He hadn’t moved. He sat in the same chair, in the same position—legs stretched out in front of him, hands casually folded in his lap, face in shadows.

  None of it was real. Not one single bit.

  But, Oh Father, help me! She wanted it to be.

  ~~~~~~~

  Thank you for reading Only You. I hope you enjoyed the novel. If you enjoyed this book, please take a moment to show your support by leaving a short review on the product page where your purchase was made. Your reviews are important and help readers discover new books!

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  Only One I’ll Have, the next book in the UnHallowed Series is available on Amazon. Click here to grab your copy or search Amazon for Only One I’ll Have by Tmonique Stephens.

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