by Luna Quinn
The Demoness smiled as if she hadn’t heard him, then silkily moved towards him. Her breasts and sex were clearly visible through the gossamer of the dress she wore.
When she was a few feet in front of them, she paused. The other three females quickly flanked her.
“My name is Enais,” she said, her lips pouting in a way he supposed she thought was sexy. “It means night flower that eats other flowers, and I am looking directly at what I seek, Prince.” She bowed slightly. “What Erummon told me is irrelevant. I know what I want. What we want,” she finished, motioning with a regal hand to the other women.
Razor narrowed his eyes on her, a low growl vibrating in his chest. Enais’ smoky voice, full of haughtiness, grated his senses. He knew her type all too well, familiar with them from his life in the Underworld.
He snuck a glance to his right, at Sasha. She was standing very still, taking in every single detail of Enais. There was something strange in her gaze…
Movement to his left pulled his attention away before he could begin to guess what Sasha was thinking.
“I don’t think you understand,” Night said, stepping up. “Enais, night flower that eats other flowers, let me put it more plainly so we understand each other.” Night’s voice remained cordial, but the underlying threat rang clear. “My brothers and I aren’t interested. End of story. You are welcome to enjoy my establishment, of course. I am sure you will find more than enough willing partners to fulfill your every need.”
Night was ever the businessman and connoisseur of beautiful creatures. Razor almost rolled his eyes. He couldn’t deny that they weren’t completely horrible looking, but they certainly weren’t his cup of tea. No, his cup was of the badass and cranky Reaper variety.
Her gaze now fully on Night, Enais bowed, then addressed him by his birth name. “Shilok’Elan, Erummon’s heir, Sotiel is to be yours.” One of the other women stepped forward. “She is of the highest ranking families in the Underworld, and should be a perfect fit for you. She will give you strong heirs of pure blood.”
Razor couldn’t help it; he laughed. Night didn’t. This was getting so ridiculous, it was funny.
Then, before any of them could reply, Edge spoke. “You’ve overstayed your welcome. Leave.”
The woman was either very confident in herself, or she was very, very, stupid and had a death wish. Because instead of heeding Edge’s warning, like any death-fearing person would, she lazily took him in, her gaze almost dismissive. Razor wondered how she could ignore the menace coming off of him in waves.
“Ah, Erummon’s assassin,” she said with a sneer. “You were my second choice, but Muriyan here…” She motioned to a scared looking female. Edge didn’t even acknowledge the other Demoness. His eyes only darkened dangerously, still locked on Enais. “She will be yours as I have chosen C’rrenAnkiro. She is in season and ready to birth you many sons and daughters.”
They all gaped. Sasha outright laughed. Some of the people watching gasped while others just began backpedaling it out of the club. Enais had some balls on her, he would give her that.
Now he was sure Enais had a death wish. Unlike the other three Hellhounds, Edge had no qualms about killing females. He didn’t kill innocents, but Enais had stepped over so many lines, his brother wouldn’t think twice about ending her where she stood.
Edge’s snarl effectively froze the rest of the club. “Razor, get her out of my city, or I’ll kill her,” he said, confirming his thoughts. With that, his brother pivoted on his heel and left the scene.
“That was very, very, stupid,” Razor chided.
“No matter.” She shrugged. “I have what I came for.”
Then, before he could blink, she was on him. One minute Enais was standing several feet away, and the next, her body was pressed up against his, her lips on his.
It took his brain a few seconds to catch up. By the time he went to push Enais off, it was too late. He heard one of his brothers groan, and then someone swore violently.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Sasha’s voice held barely leashed anger, and then Enais was yanked backwards.
The Demoness stumbled a little before catching herself and turning in Sasha’s direction. She looked her up and down, but unlike with Edge, Enais didn’t dismiss Sasha so easily. Her posture stiffened, and there was a gleam in Enais’ eyes that gave him the sense that she’d caught on quickly to who and what Sasha was to him, and she wasn’t happy about it. Whether Sasha had accepted him or not, she was his mate. Razor was useless to the Demoness and her purpose for being here.
Enais’ chin lifted, her body taking a pose like some fucking queen addressing a town beggar. “I am Enais, it means night flower that eats other flowers—”
“There she goes with the fucking name again,” someone muttered.
“—and I am here to mate with C’rrenAnkiro.” Why was she being so insistent? Did she not get it?
His beautiful, deadly Reaper laughed as she casually began to close in on Enais. “You mean Razor? Is that what you think you’re doing?”
His heart beat wildly. Thanks to the bond, he could sense so many things going on inside Sasha, but he was frozen in place by one feeling in particular. Possessiveness. She was seething with it. He wanted to laugh and roll around in it. To go to her and kiss her and assure her that he was hers. Only hers. But he was staying back. This was nearing challenge territory.
Enais frowned. “Yes. And now if you don’t mind, I have a mate to claim.”
“Now, see, that’s where you’re wrong,” Sasha corrected, moving like a predator. She strolled closer to the other woman. If Enais realized the danger she was in, she didn’t show it. And she was very much in danger. The look in Sasha’s eyes was full of warnings.
“No, I am not. Now you may take your place back with the others.” Enais dismissed her, turning and giving her back. A big mistake.
It happened so fast.
Enais spinning away from Sasha.
Sasha sweeping in behind her.
Her hand in the female Demon’s hair, pulling her head back. Exposing her throat.
A shiny blade against the golden skin of Enais’ neck.
Enais struggling.
Sasha’s lips at her ear, her eyes burning blue like Hellfire as they met Razor’s.
“Razor is mine.” The words were a vicious hiss. “No one takes him from me. No one.”
The blade gleamed and sparkled as it moved across Enais’ throat, bright red blood bubbling in the wake of the blade’s edge. Sasha’s arm strained with the control it took to make the cut painful, but not fatal, like she so very obviously wanted. There were more gasps from the crowd, but no one moved.
He could have stopped it, could have shoved Enais out of the way before Sasha could slide the blade. But he didn’t. Because this wasn’t his fight to stop. Maybe she hadn’t known what she was doing, but the instant Sasha had addressed the Demoness, she had issued a challenge. One Enais had accepted by staking her own claim on him.
The minute Sasha had stepped up to Enais, claiming Razor in public, it had become Sasha’s fight. Her kill, if she so chose.
Sasha shoved Enais to the floor. The shallow wound wasn’t deadly, but it would leave her bleeding for a while until it healed.
Sasha lifted her boot, resting it against the Demon’s bleeding throat. She didn’t step down with much pressure, but the threat was crystal clear. “Mine,” she repeated, for emphasis.
Enais’ companions stayed where they were. Scared, but not shocked. It wouldn’t have happened much differently in the Underworld.
There were pathetic noises coming from Enais, but no one dared move to help. Sasha took her boot away and wasn’t even looking at the Demoness anymore. Her beautiful, wild eyes were trained on Razor. Fuck him, he was already hard, his mouth watering for a kiss from her.
He wouldn’t have been able to take his eyes off her even if the club exploded. There was something happening in the air between them. A visceral reaction on both
their ends to what had just transpired.
Spectators or not, he needed to be inside her like he needed his next breath.
And then she was moving towards him, and he couldn’t get enough air. There was no hesitation in her movements. She was fury on two feet, her bright gaze never wavering from his as she reached him and pressed up against him. He dropped his head as she crushed her mouth to his.
He welcomed it, savored it, letting her be rough with him, her teeth biting down on his lips, her nails raking down his bare arms. He knew what it felt like to hunger, so he let her take control, keeping his own in check while she had her way with him. There were no words exchanged, only little moans of pleasure and possessive snarls.
Her hands were now pulling at his clothes, her nails scoring skin as it was revealed.
Razor grinned triumphantly down at her, his beast panting, growling for its mate. His shirt came off and her lips and tongue went to his throat. It was enough to snap his control. Freeing a hand, he slipped it into her hair, grabbing two handfuls of curls, and tugged back sharply.
She moaned, her gaze meeting his.
“I’m going to fuck you here, where everyone can watch me take you, and you won’t stop me.” He didn’t even recognize his own voice. It was almost as if he were hearing it underwater. Everything around them seemed to be underwater, suspended and quiet. Everything except the sound of their breathing, their heartbeats, their blood rushing hotly through their veins.
His button fly came undone, and then Sasha’s hand was pulling out his cock as her words heated his lips. “I’d beg if I had to.”
Razor was aware that people were watching, some in awe, some in shocked disbelief. Even his brothers were still present, but he needed this to happen here, now. He needed everyone to understand the woman that claimed him so publically was his. His mate. His Sasha. And he was hers.
“You don’t have to beg. Not this time.” He took her lips hard, his instincts screaming, mark, bruise, claim. Be claimed. Their clothes vanished as he tore at them. “And I’ll make sure you can’t walk tomorrow.”
Sasha’s small moans and desperate hands spurred him on. His need grew as she met him kiss for kiss, touch for touch. His cock was painfully hard, his entire body vibrating with a kaleidoscope of emotions. Pride, lust, love, happiness, greed—too many to name.
Lifting her up by the waist, he moved her away from the growing puddle of blood and deposited her on her back on one of the nearby tables.
“On your hands and knees. Spread your legs for me,” he growled into her neck, his fingers finding the wet heat of her pussy. Gods, she was so hot and wet already. His mouth licked down her throat as Sasha arched off the table, her legs spreading wide. “I won’t be gentle, Sasha, and you’ll do whatever I say because you belong to me.”
…
You belong to me.
Oh sweet fucking Goddess, she was in over her head. And she was loving it.
Emotions flooded her, instincts clamped over her, demanding things of her she couldn’t question.
Violence was fun for her. But tonight was something completely different. The very second that Sasha had seen the female Demon all over her Hellhound, she had lost her fucking mind. Every argument, every caution, every hesitation she’d ever had about her feelings toward him had flown out the window. It seemed that when push came to shove, Razor was hers. Period. She’d come so close to actually killing Enais—something that was beyond illegal for Reapers—it’d been scary. And now words just tumbled from her mouth in a rush.
“Please. Now. Razor, I need you.” She might have slipped into Russian, but she wasn’t sure. No matter which language she spoke, she knew he would understand her intent.
Even as her hips rolled and his fingers still teased her, she realized belatedly that he’d told her to get on her hands and knees. It was very clear that his beast was speaking, the Hellhound that rippled underneath his flesh, and there was nothing hotter than a primal beast deeming her worthy. His teeth nipped at her neck, a stinging reprimand for not obeying his order immediately. His fingers left her pussy and she whimpered from the loss.
Sasha was done fighting her emotions. He wanted her. She wanted him. And she didn’t want anyone else fucking touching him.
She was done being scared of her scars from the past. He wasn’t her ex-husband, and he wasn’t responsible for her past. No, Razor was everything she hadn’t known she’d wanted…needed. She could trust him; she felt that to her soul.
Turning over, she promptly got on her hands and knees, making sure her legs were spread wide and her hips tilted enough so she was practically on display for him.
She heard him make a deep rumbling sound behind her, and she pushed her hips back in response.
His hands were rough on her hips, and then her breath left her lungs all at once when he thrust completely inside of her. He didn’t stay there for long. Pulling back until just the tip of him was inside of her, he quickly thrust forward again. She was soaking wet and gripped him tightly with her internal muscles in encouragement.
“Mine.” The word was a snarl, a claim, and a threat all at once.
Sasha was vaguely aware they were still in the club, surrounded by hundreds of people, including the remaining Hellhounds. It should have been weird for such an intense moment to be so public, but it felt right. No one would be able to question who Razor belonged to, or who she belonged to. It was also really turning her on.
And then he made good on his promise. Nothing about him was gentle.
She moaned hoarsely, throwing her head back to push her hair out of her face as he kept his rough and fast pace. Like the move was an invitation, Razor reached forward and grabbed a fistful of her bouncing curls again, pulling as he slammed his cock into her repeatedly.
Even through her glazed eyes, she noticed the flurry of activity around her. She and Razor weren’t the only ones in the throes of passion.
The club-goers were no longer standing around and watching them. They were all currently engaged in some kind of sexual act; the energy and pheromones that were coming from Razor and Sasha had apparently been too much for others to ignore.
The club usually smelled of sex, but this was something more. Everyone was taken over by a frenzied need that mirrored theirs.
Except for Edge. The tallest Hellhound stood out like a statue in a sea of pleasure, his arms crossed and his expression neutral, practically standing guard. His gaze moved over everything, but stayed on his brothers the most.
He looked from Razor and Sasha over to Night on the other side of the room. Night’s fingers were inside a woman on a table, his mouth over her sex, while a man on his knees was sucking Night’s cock. Sin was nowhere to be found, from what she could tell.
Razor’s fangs bit into Sasha’s neck, making her cry out and snapping her attention back to what really mattered. He leaned over her until his lips were at her ear.
“I want you to be mine.” His voice was rough, and she could hear the faint lilt of the accent he had when he spoke Vruk. “Only mine. Do you understand, pretty girl?”
She couldn’t get enough of those words. She was sure they’d already said it to each other twenty times, but it was clear both of them were embracing what they had. Each time they uttered mine, it was a verbal promise to the other. No more denial.
Her arms shaking, Sasha dropped the front half of her body so her cheek was pressed against the table and her ass was still high in the air. “Yes.”
It was a vulnerable position, but she had never felt so free. Her body sang, and her heart soared. Razor released his hold on her hair, but then his hand came around and curled around the front of her neck. It was a move so utterly possessive that her breath caught in her throat.
“Fuck…do it. Please,” she moaned, tightening her pussy around him to urge him on.
Reading her so well, he slowly squeezed, putting pressure on the sides of her neck, at the same time as his pace slowed considerably—until the gentle rocking of h
is hips, the shallow penetration, and the gradually tightening hand around her throat had her on the verge of coming. She greedily rocked her hips, taking in the small amount of air he was allowing her. She wanted to sob because he was right there with her, giving her everything she was asking for. Her pussy pulsed with the force of her arousal.
“More,” she whispered.
But he ignored her verbal and nonverbal begging, releasing his hold on her throat and instead moving it back to glide down her spine. “You can’t come yet.” Then his hand smoothed back up to her nape, and he added, “I love you, Sasha.”
He said it so simply, and the phrase floated through every one of her cells, making her still. The words settled in her, feeling heavy, but right. Her eyes closed when tears threatened to fall, the strenuous sex only half of the reason her chest heaved with rapid breath.
He loved her. She felt it, as real as a physical connection. He loved her.
It was almost too much for her to comprehend. Her mouth opened and closed, but all she could do was make unintelligible sounds. Her heart thudded against her ribs so hard, it was if she were tattooing Razor on her bones.
In that moment, she knew she loved him, too.
She’d lost the fight with her tears. The weight of her emotions was too much, and Razor was acting like her personal catharsis. Everything she’d locked up for centuries was tumbling out, swirling around her mind. And through all of it, he was there for her. Supporting her. Giving her so much she wasn’t quite convinced that she deserved.
His teeth scored over her neck, and she wanted to beg for him to break the skin. The more marks he left on her body, the better. They would match the ones he was imprinting on her soul. She reached back, her sharp nails digging into his thighs. Though it wasn’t much, she needed to mark him in return. She clawed at his skin, rewarded by the deep growl that came from his chest.