by C. M. Owens
Thad has an array of beasts inside him—not a beast as dangerous as Chaz’s, but he still understands how far you can push or can’t push.
Just as Chaz raises his hand to do something he’ll regret, I rush him from the side, racing toward him with all my strength, and collide with him before he can attack. As we fall, I dematerialize us, and I push hard, dragging us as far away as I’m capable.
We drop to the ground with me on top of him as soon as we rematerialize over one of the underground bunkers for my group, and I shudder against Chaz when another savage growl tears from his throat.
What if he kills me? I really didn’t think this through.
My eyes snap to his, dreading what I’ll find, but as soon as I meet those flaming black orbs, two powerful hands grab my ass, and a strong set of lips crush against mine.
In one move, Chaz flips me, never breaking the kiss, and his hands come up, jerking mine above my head. One of his hands clasps both of mine above me, and his other hand comes down to roughly jerk my shirt up, exposing my lower half to him as he stays between my legs.
I suck in a breath when I realize what he wants. There’s more than one way to tame a beast.
He growls as he stares at the new flesh he’s exposed, and everything on me tightens. I’ve spent the bulk of my life in survival mode. Excitement, nervousness, neediness, hungriness... All of those feelings are stirring wildly inside me, and I wonder if this is what it’s like just to feel alive instead of simply surviving.
His lips find mine in a brutal, savage kiss that almost feels like desperation or punishment. All it does is ratchet up the desire that is driving me right now, causing me to lose focus on everything else going on and all the dangers being with him would involve.
My legs spread wider, giving him room to come down lower on me, and the material of his jeans brush against my flesh. It’s like a live wire to my body. Everything is turning me on, especially the way he’s kissing me like he can’t possibly get enough.
He breaks the kiss as he sniffs the air, then glares down at my shirt as a more threatening growl rumbles from his chest. He’s still feral and half out of his mind as he rips it down the middle and tears it away from me, tossing it far away.
I’m faced with a moral dilemma, considering he’s not of sound mind. Would it be taking advantage of him to do this right now when the risks are so grave?
He shreds his shirt off him instead of removing it, and I lick my lips as I take in all the lean muscles that conceal the explosive power lurking inside him.
When he resumes the hungry kiss, I remember I’m half demon. I suck out the darkest, most evil souls from humans and absorb their energy in order to survive. My morals are already skewed, so fuck it. As long as he doesn’t bite me, we can deal with the wrongness of this later.
I moan his name when he jerks my legs apart even farther, and I realize jeans are missing. My legs slide over firm skin, and I start grinding against him, searching for anything to dull the ever-growing ache. I’m not sure when he took those jeans off, but I’m glad they’re gone.
His hand slips between us, feeling how wet I am, and he groans, sounding a little less animalistic as he removes his hand and replaces it with the hardest part of his body that I want more than anything.
In one hard thrust, he fills me completely, and I claw at his back as my eyes slam shut.
Our lips lose contact, and he starts kissing down my neck as his hips set an angry rhythm. It’s riding that fine line of pleasure and pain, and I love it... I crave more. Need more.
He holds me in place when I try to meet his thrusts, his hands gripping my hips possessively as he controls the pace. My hands slide into his short, silky hair that has slowly started to darken, losing the golden blonde hue it had just days ago.
Something powerful hums inside me, pulling tighter and tighter, and I beg for more... But I have no idea how much more I can handle or what I’m even begging for.
“So perfect,” he says against my ear as he thrusts in harder.
At least he sounds normal again.
One of his hands slides up to my hair, and he jerks my head to the side, giving him a better angle on my neck as he continues to own my body.
My core tightens, along with all my muscles as I hang on the precarious edge of an orgasm that will surely tear me apart. Then I feel the pressure of sharp points rake over my neck, and it tips me over the edge.
With one hand, I grab his head, tugging him away as hot and cold ecstasy washes over me in cascading waves, again and again.
“Don’t bite,” I say breathily, panting for air as my entire body shudders against his.
He curses before turning his head away, and he grips my leg with one hand, pulling it against him as he shifts his angle and starts chasing his own release.
The new angle incites a new budding of need in my core, and I grip onto him tightly, worried I might split in two if another powerful orgasm crashes into me this soon.
When it all crests, I’m crying out and thrashing wildly, while Chaz stills inside me, barely making a sound other than another dark growl. Clinging to him, I bury my face in the side of his neck while heaving for air.
He shudders against me, clinging to me just the same, and I breathe in deeply, still trying to catch my breath.
There are a thousand problems with this. There are a thousand reasons this can’t work. But we’re immortals. Immortals fight, fuck, and survive. It’s all we do. I’ve just been doing two out of the three since breaking free of the rings.
This is the first time I’ve tasted freedom and tasted euphoria at the same time. I’ve really been missing out.
He turns back, kissing the top of my head so sweetly, a gentle contrast to how roughly he just took me. That’s something else I’m not used to, and I go still in his arms. When we got the chance to have sex in the rings, it was just sex. There was no forehead kissing or lingering in each other’s arms. It was cold and served one purpose—release.
Tentatively, I touch his hair, running my fingers through it. He shudders again, and he nuzzles my face sweetly with his before brushing his lips over mine.
It’s the first bit of affection I’ve ever had that wasn’t saturated in lust or seduction.
“We should get back. I can’t believe I lost it like that and didn’t even bother to check on Dice and your sister,” he says, raising up with a grim expression. “Then I took you like an animal instead of making sure you were okay.”
“I am okay,” I tell him quickly, running my fingers through his hair.
I guess he was still lucid even though he wasn’t fully himself. It’s not like the others when they lose control.
The sun is beaming down on us in our little hollowed out place in the woods. It’s just us and the sound of the wilderness. The bunker is under us, but he doesn’t need to be underground so far away from the sun.
His expression changes, and he frowns as he studies me. His fingers on one hand stroke my side, and I sigh as I relax, staying under him like it’s completely natural.
“What the hell were you thinking stepping in front of that damn blaze? Karma could have dematerialized them and would have.”
I shrug, swallowing hard. “It was instinct. Estranged as we are, Karma is still my sister.”
I don’t tell him that it was also an instinct to protect him. It would have killed him if he had hurt them. It sounds insane to admit that aloud, so I keep it to myself.
“That day I touched your fire... I realized I was fireproof. Which makes sense, since I can throw fireballs after a fresh feeding.”
“Then Karma would be too,” he points out.
My lips purse as I think about it, but decide not to voice my thoughts.
“Wouldn’t she be?” he asks, not letting me hold my silence.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “Karma is weaker than me, as you know. And I’m not sure if the fireproof thing is a half demon attribute or...”
I let the words trail off
as I squirm awkwardly beneath him. His eyebrows go up.
“If it’s because my beast wants you so bad,” he says quietly, finishing the sentence.
“There aren’t exactly other dragonites hanging around for me to ask. At least, none that I know of. Your father?”
He shakes his head while looking around, taking in our isolated scenery.
“Dead. Supposedly. I don’t know. I never believe someone is dead until I see it with my own eyes. Even then I find it questionable.” He looks back down at me. “We’ve had trouble keeping people dead.”
My lips twitch, but then I notice the hopeful gleam in his eyes and I realize what he’s saying without words. My amusement falls away to be replaced by a dull ache in my chest. I’m not used to empathy, but with Chaz, it’s like I feel the pain he feels.
I’ve been cutoff and cold for so long that it hurts to feel anything so powerful.
“Amy is dead, Chaz,” I say on a whisper.
His lips thin. “Just because Slade says so?”
He raises up, and I sit up with him. He tugs my leg over on his lap as he turns his face toward the sun, probably feeling its energy restoring him. Absently, he strokes my leg, and I sit awkwardly to keep it there, refusing to lose this moment of contact.
“Slade and I saw the experiments,” I tell him softly. “The ones who they tried to change and failed.”
He brings his head down and cuts his eyes toward me, listening.
“It was part of our torture. They tested our mental capacity as well as our physical ones. Slade saw brutal things all throughout the centuries. It’s why he’s so detached from emotion, for the most part. It’s also why his emotions—such as rage—are so strong when released.”
“Stop trying to convince me Slade isn’t a sociopath and get back to explaining why you know Amy is dead. And why do you think her night stalker is the one who betrayed us?”
“Have you seen him since she was taken?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.
“He could be out looking for her. Gage wouldn’t come back to the house and just wait around on Kimber to reappear. Same for Thad, Kane, Dice, and Zee. They’d tear the world apart until their girl was found.”
My heart clenches. I wouldn’t even know how to respond to someone caring so much about me. Someone who would stop at nothing to pull me from the depths of hell.
No one ever came for me.
Slade would come, I’ve learned, but he wouldn’t look for longer than he felt was adequate. Nothing is more important than vengeance to him.
“His name is Adam Delawerence. That’s his real name,” I tell him, blowing out a breath.
“What does his name have to do with anything?”
“It’s the name of a traitor now. You’ll need to remember it. He used his phone when you arrived. I sense evil, Chaz. It’s what I do. It’s how I survive. Usually it only works on humans, but...”
“He was human not too long ago,” he says under his breath, his jaw ticking.
“I couldn’t peer into his soul, but the vibes can’t be denied. It felt wrong when I saw him. Then I realized why when the blood-starved showed up and Amy went missing. No one saw him during the blood-starved battle. It was the distraction he needed to find Amy and make a call. Sierra tracked his tracks. They disappear long before you reach the first blood that has destroyed the rest of the trail and half the forest too. Someone dematerialized him, and he went willingly. No signs of a struggle.”
He curses before running a hand through his hair that is slowly getting blonder. Why I find his hair fascinating is beyond me. It’s like it’s alive.
“Speaking of the first blood,” I go on, bringing my eyes back down to study his profile as he stares blankly in front of him, “you saw how toxic that stuff is once it’s inside them, Chaz. It destroys the body, manipulates the genes to recreate the firsts. Everything else gets killed in the process. For miles and miles, the trees and earth are dying, and no one can get close enough to clean it up and repair the damage. It’s like acid to our skin. All we can do is contain the damage with numerous warding spells.”
He nods slowly, letting that sink in. His hand stills on my leg, but he keeps it there like he needs something tangible to hold onto.
“When the blood is introduced, the pain they face is excruciating. It’s not a death I’d wish on anyone except for those who beat and tortured our kind in the rings. You’re dealing with a darkness like you’ve never faced before. There’s no humanity in them, Chaz. There’s nothing but—”
My own words stop as my eyes widen, and I curse myself for not thinking of it sooner.
“Nothing but what?” Chaz asks, his grip on my leg tightening.
“A dark and tainted soul,” I say on a hushed breath.
At first, his brow furrows, but then realization hits him as he groans. “Of course. A demon,” he says, blowing out a long breath. “Hence the reason we faced a horde of demons.”
“It makes sense,” I go on, sitting up straighter. “If a demon escaped hell and took over the rings, they could study our weaknesses and even use some of the enslaved without the markings as host bodies. They’d also be able to find a way to move through the planes and build their own demon army—promising a chance on the breathing plane again at the cost of their service.”
“When demons manage to breach the breathing plane, they always take a mortal’s body. They were mortal souls when they died and went to hell. The only immortals down there were mortal when they died—meaning they hadn’t attained immortality yet. The stronger they are, the harder it is to escape,” Chaz adds.
“What if someone planned for this?” I ask, biting down on my lip as my thoughts try to process. “It’d explain the witch powers they shouldn’t have. It’s the only thing that does explain it.”
“Someone planned to die, become a demon, and come back to start an army?” he asks.
“Demons are stronger than most immortals. It could have been a weaker dark user or light user... Someone who committed enough heinous acts with the intentions of dying before they turned immortal. Escape from the spirit planes is impossible unless you have a window of opportunity and a skilled, reliable accomplice. It’d be a lot easier to escape hell.”
“It’d be too risky for little reward,” he counters. “Unless...”
“Unless what?” I prompt.
He meets my eyes and holds my gaze. “Unless that person wasn’t destined for immortality.”
“That leaves the witch powers in question.”
He stands abruptly, and my leg falls to the ground as he grabs his jeans and starts stabbing his legs into them.
“Not if the witch was mortal when he or she died.”
I frown. “I’m confused. You just said they weren’t destined for immortality.”
“I’m talking about mortal witches—true mortals that tried to harness magic.”
“Those are mostly parlor trick users. No one has that kind of power as a mortal,” I argue.
“Anymore,” he inserts as he buttons his jeans. His shirt is shredded so he bypasses it as he comes and squats before me.
I’m naked and he’s not, which now makes me want to cover up. I was fine when we were both naked.
“A long time ago, though, mortal witches were just as strong as immortal ones. Some were even stronger. They tapped into dark magic too strong for their souls. Some even managed to delay death by centuries, but could never obtain true immortality—their goal.”
“Okay... I guess I’m not educated on this.”
“Because it’s barely a footnote in history.” His head falls back. “We need to speak to someone.”
“Who?” I ask, confused.
“Come on. We have to go back to the others.”
My lips tense. “I think it’s best if we part ways here. I’ve calmed you down, and you can return without hurting anyone. But it’s pretty apparent they don’t want me there.”
His brow creases as his eyes narrow. “You calmed me down?” he a
sks in a quiet, but angry tone.
Tensing, I study him, wondering if he’s already losing control. But all I see is just an angry man instead of a savage beast. Why is he mad at me?
“Yes. You were on the verge of hurting your friends. You couldn’t even speak. All you were doing was growling.”
“So you calmed me down,” he says yet again, his voice flat and devoid of any emotion.
“Yes,” I say once more, wondering why he feels the need to continue hearing it. Can he not tell he’s calmer?
“Right. Got it,” he says, that edge of anger in his tone becoming clearer as he steps back. “Thanks,” he adds curtly.
I’m confused by the hurt in his eyes, but before I can ask questions, he vanishes without another word. I try not to validate the pang of disappointment in my chest with any reaction, but I feel my lips tugging down and my body sagging.
What did I do wrong?
Drawing my knees to my body, I replay the conversation, yet nothing stands out. I hug myself, suddenly feeling stupid and lost. There’s that nagging ache in my chest now, and I hate it. I haven’t felt that ache in years. Not since I was ripped from my world and tossed in a cage, left to die or survive no matter what the cost.
Turns out the cost was my heart. I thought it was gone. But now it’s beating to a painful melody I don’t understand.
“A mortal witch?”
Slade’s sudden appearance startles me, and I squeal like a girl, which forces him to arch an eyebrow.
“How long have you been standing there?” I demand.
He can camouflage himself to blend in with any surroundings. It’s like having an invisibility cloak or something. A perk of the Gemini. It’s probably why we haven’t found his brother yet.
“Long enough to hear what you and he came up with, but not long enough to catch a show. You work well together when you’re bouncing theories off each other. I dare say you may be right, too. It’d explain most things, such as how they’d even know the ancient knowledge of the firsts.”
“Hell holds a lot of secrets, and the tortured souls that are burning for all eternity would bleed information for one ounce of reprieve,” I agree, covering myself a little better.