Only One I'll Have (UnHallowed Series Book 4)

by Tmonique Stephens

  Celine paused, her senses pinging, her nose twitching. What she’d come for—her gaze darted around the field—was here.

  She sunk to her knees and studied the ground. She brought her nose close to the fragrant earth and sniffed. A grin tweaked her lips. A few feet away lay her future. A future with a new Demoni Lord to call her own. This one would love her longer than a month.

  She dug her fingers into the soft, cold earth and let the dirt sift through her fingers. Once, twice, thrice, nothing, yet her senses did not lie. She dug her fingers deeper into the ground and carefully sifted the handful of the dirt between both hands and…there! A trace of blood clung to her palm.

  There was so much information locked in a trace. The species—human. The sex—female. The age, height, weight, so much she could glean. And with a bit of extra effort, the location.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Sophie tossed the light blanket aside and huffed in annoyance. Two thirty in the morning and she couldn’t sleep. The heavy beat of her heart and the slow throb in her groin made her antsy. Sexual frustration equaled insomnia. No surprise. Even her vibrator failed to give her the release she needed, the release she found in Chay’s arms. One night and she was addicted. Her logical self scoffed at the notion. Her puckered nipples and slick core begged to differ.

  Three nights ago, three long nights and days ago, he was inside of her. Twice, he took her to the precipice and tossed her over. Twice, he gave her the oblivion she desired. It had been wild and rough, and wicked and a revelation. As much as she desired him, and for as long as she hungered, a part of her thought he was too good to be true. Chay was kind, thoughtful, considerate, loyal, responsible, intelligent, loved kids since he practically adopted Scarla, funny, sexy, and protective of those he loved. If someone had described a guy with all those qualities before she’d met him, Sophie would’ve called bullshit. Yet, he was all that and more.

  They spoke morning and night, the conversations awkward, stilted, neither sure what to say. They had yet to discuss the sex. Instead, they kept to her mother’s condition, the weather, the beach. Earlier, feeling reckless and to provoke him, she snapped a selfie of her in a bikini she’d bought in the hotel gift shop. Not a single peep or text. Talk about a blow to her ego. Scarla, Dina, and Amaya were incomparable beauties while she, regular ole’ Sophie, was at best a six, maybe a seven on a good day.

  Who am I fooling? She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow.

  Her phone rang. Goosebumps flashed over her skin and she knew, knew without seeing the screen, it was Chay. Relief and anticipation swept through her as she unplugged the charger and accepted the call. Silence, not even breathing, because UnHallowed didn’t breathe, filtered through the phone. She waited for him to speak, to break the void because, after all, he’d called her.

  “I just saw your picture. Torture. Straight up torture.” He groaned as if mortally wounded.

  Her doubts melted away and she giggled, couldn’t stop it from escaping.

  “My pain is funny, huh?” His voice was a rough growl that sent a shiver down her spine.

  “Yes,” she panted in a voice she didn’t recognize.

  “You in bed?”

  “Yeah.” Her free hand coasted from her neck to her suddenly hard nipples.

  “Naked or PJs?”

  She wished she were naked, cool sheets beneath her, Chay’s hot body on top. “Boy shorts and a tank top. No bra. No panties.”

  He made a sound, a cross between a growl and a purr. “Strip,” he ordered.

  She obeyed.

  Body on autopilot, refusing never occurred. She wanted to be naked. Needed to be naked. For him. A quick shimmy and both garments sailed to the floor. “Done.”

  In a tight tone, he gritted, “Cup your breasts, don’t touch your nipples until I tell you. And keep your legs closed.”

  Limbs trembling, she obeyed.

  This wasn’t the first time she’d held her breasts. It was the first time she’d been ordered to do so over a phone by a husky voice. Cradling the phone between her head and her shoulder, her C-cup boobs filled her hands. She wanted to touch her nipples. They were hard, pointing to the ceiling. Cool air from a vent over the bed fanned the tips. They ached for a hot mouth, a wet lick. And her core, she didn’t have to touch herself to know her core was ready.

  “Are your nipples hard?”

  “Yeah,” she panted.

  “I’m there with you. It’s my mouth sucking your nipples into my mouth. Me.”

  She moaned, lost in the imagery of his body pinning her to the bed, and his hair, a dark cascade brushing her skin, but she needed more. “Where does your tongue go next? Tell me.”

  “Down your body,” he growled. “To your bellybutton. Then your hip. That curve needs my attention.”

  The skin on her right hip tingled in response. Her hands trailed to the area, caressing that patch of skin. In her mind’s eye, he gripped her hips, pinning her in place while he nipped, and licked, and teased with each glide of his tongue. “Then where?” she moaned.

  “I’m at your thighs, you’ve spread them for me, and damn you are beautiful. I’m almost afraid to touch you.” His voice was rough, dipped low.

  Of their own accord, her legs parted and a strangled groan hit her when cool air from the vent fanned between her legs.

  “It’s my fingers gliding over your soft skin, parting your flesh. My tongue finding your clit, teasing it. It is me, feasting on you. You don’t know how good you taste. Two years I wanted to devour you. You think once was enough? Answer me, Sophie.”

  Writhing on the bed, lost in the erotic imagery Chay had created, her finger inadequately mimicking his words, had an orgasm teasing her senses. Her clit throbbed with each brush of her finger. “Chay!” Her voice broke.

  He groaned, a ragged sound she’d first heard three days ago and knew he’d orgasmed. And she was jealous, jealous of his hand stroking his cock. She plunged her fingers inside her wet core, imagining Chay pinning her to the bed, stretching her walls, pounding into her. With a low cry, she tumbled over the edge with him.

  This time the quiet was a gift, a mutual understanding between lovers where no words were necessary. Though miles apart, they’d created a special little bubble where they alone lived. Isn’t that what lovers did? How could she be sure when she’d never had it. How to trust it?

  “You didn’t call,” she said softly so not to sound needy or like an accusation.

  “You’re wearing that bikini when I see you. My phone was off. We’ve started patrolling. We’re tired of waiting for the enemy to come to us.”

  She wanted to ask when did that start up again but couldn’t miss the eagerness in his voice or the dread filling her. Silly maybe, after all, he didn’t need her concern. “Happy hunting.”

  “I’ll be happy when the threat is eliminated, and I can come to you, or you can come home. I want you home with me.” His voice was thick, almost pained.

  Her core tightened, highlighting the hollowness. Home with him. No use lying. “I want that too.” God, it was startling how much she did. She physically ached with the need to see him, touch and be touched by him. She missed his hair streaming over her skin, his smell in her nostrils, his flesh parting her flesh. She missed him.

  He sighed. “I won’t place you in jeopardy because I can’t control myself.”

  That caused her to smile. “I make you lose control?”

  “Yes,” Chay said without hesitation. “The only reason I kept my hands off you was because of your memory. I couldn’t insert myself into your life more than I already had without you knowing the truth.”

  And there it was again. She hadn’t forgotten what he did. She just didn’t want to think about it anymore. She’d said she forgave him. Had she? Right now, she couldn’t say. Apparently, her sex drive had forgiven him. It was all about getting some of Chay anyway it could. This wasn’t healthy. Resentment and desire divided her heart. Until she found a way to reconcile the divisio
n within herself, whatever possibility they had, had to wait.

  “I need some time. I have a lot going on and the situation between us—”

  “Situation?” Aggression framed the word.

  Nervous, not about him, but from her next words. She heaved a deep sigh and plodded on. “Yeah. The phone calls, the sex, it needs to be shelved. I have to concentrate on my mother…and nothing else.”

  The silence on the other end was thicker than cement.

  “If that’s what you want,” he said in the most neutral tone she’d ever heard, the exact opposite of the voice that had made her explode.

  “I gotta go.” She hung up.

  She wanted to run fast and as far as her feet could carry her—not a three in the morning cardio circuit—run in any direction but couldn’t. She had Ellen to consider. Plus, even if she could allow her feet free reign, where would she go? No one could run from the truth, certainly not her. If only she knew what her truth was. Besides, why would she choose to run from a place as beautiful as Key West. The island was perfect. White beaches, crystal-clear blue water, ninety degrees with a tropical breeze, friendly population, and Duval street. One point twenty-five miles of liquor, free love, and lust. The party started at sundown and didn’t seem to end.

  She climbed out of bed and pulled on a loose sundress. Ellen’s door to her bedroom was closed, which did nothing to stop her snores from filtering through to the living room. Thank God she’d booked the two-bedroom suite with Bobby’s credit card. Sophie couldn’t sleep in the same room with all that racket.

  She made sure she had her keycard and phone, then eased out of the room. The lobby bar was still open with a few patrons, mostly men, perched on stools. A few watched her approach, ogling her. Her mood was at the opposite end of cordial. “Whiskey, JD, no ice.”

  As the bartender reached for the liquor on the top shelf, she scrolled through her phone. Most got the message, Leave me alone. I’m not interested. Still, there was always one stubborn fool who didn’t.

  “Psst. Want some company?” His words slurred.

  She kept scrolling through Facebook.

  “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

  “The lady doesn’t want to be bothered.” The bartender placed her drink in front of her and stared the drunk down. Sophie smiled at him. She and Ellen had spent a few hours each afternoon with the same bartender serving them since their arrival three days ago.

  Ellen tired easily. They’d done the tourist thing and spent plenty of time on the beach, at the pool, soaking up the rays, her mother’s oxygen tank between them. Bobby called the first day, screaming about the credit card. She laughed and turned off her phone. “It’s a joint card. Too late to cut it off.” No joy in her voice, though she claimed she was fine. “Good riddance, bastard.” Sophie couldn’t agree more as Ellen nearly coughed up a lung.

  “I’m fine,” Ellen wheezed and snatched Sophie’s phone away.

  She didn’t know what to believe. Was this her mother’s last vacation, the last hurrah before her death? She refused to entertain the thought. They didn’t have a traditional mother-daughter relationship, but they had something, and she wanted it to last. She’d lost enough, couldn’t lose her mother too, not so soon after finding the new her.

  She saluted the bartender with her drink and headed for the patio. The large patio and pool area wasn’t deserted. The pool had two couples at opposite ends and a few guests occupied lawn chairs. She headed for the short boardwalk overlooking the ocean that ran the length of the beachfront property. Soft lighting illuminated the weathered wood. She looked up at the security camera and noted the blinking red light.

  She sipped her whiskey, enjoying the heat at the back of her throat, and the ocean breeze riffling through her hair. A pregnant woman and a man walked up from the beach. Holding hands, they were a sweet couple, in their mid-thirties, Sophie guessed. Both smiled at her, the woman absently rubbing her belly. They murmured “Good night,” laughed and corrected with, “Good morning,” and continued into the hotel.

  “Not fair,” she uttered. The muted edges of the dream she had last night cleared. She was in a room, white walls, white gown, white bed. People filtered in and out of view. Their lips moved, yet no sound left their lips. A woman stood beside her, her face indistinct, then took on the features of her mother. She smiled at Sophie.

  Another pan of the room and she noticed the machines next to the bed, yet they too were silent. She heard crying, seemed to come from a great distance away until she looked down and then saw the squirming infant on her chest. A beautiful, perfect little girl with a tuft of chocolate hair and pewter eyes stared at her. She stretched a finger to caress its cheek and felt nothing. The infant wasn’t there anymore.

  Wasn’t the first time her mind spewed that imagery since her memories returned. She took another swallow of her drink and welcomed the burn.

  “Hello.”

  Startled, liquor sloshed over the rim onto Sophie’s hand.

  “Sorry for surprising you.”

  Sophie spared a glance at the woman as she switched the glass into her other hand. “It’s fine.” She dried her hand in the folds of her dress. “I shouldn’t be daydreaming at three in the morning on a boardwalk. Great way to end up dead.”

  The woman studied her with cold, calculating black eyes. She was beautiful, with long black hair down to her rear, and an hourglass figure poured into skintight jeans and a bolero top. “You have nothing to worry about on that end.”

  “Um, huh?”

  “I’m Celine, Sophie.”

  She knows my name. Heart rate in the stratosphere, Sophie clutched her glass, ready to use it as a weapon. Remembering the training Scarla drilled into her, she stepped back and angled her body so she presented less of a target.

  Celine held up her hands in mock surrender. “Calm yourself, there is nothing to be alarmed about. I’m here to talk.”

  Sophie’s phone rang. She didn’t risk fishing it out of her pocket.

  Celine pointed at Sophie’s pocket. “Please answer it. The last thing we need is an UnHallowed showing up before I make you an offer you can’t resist.”

  Oh, fuck! She knew about the UnHallowed. What was she? Demon. Had to be a demon. Chay staying away hadn’t mattered one damn bit. “What offer? What are you talking about?”

  “I can give you what you most desire. What you were just thinking about, but you have to answer your phone.”

  More annoyed than threatened, and interest piqued, she yanked her phone out of her pocket. “What?” she answered after she swiped her thumb across the screen.

  “Where are you?” Chay demanded.

  “W-why? What’s wrong?”

  “You tell me. I sensed your panic.”

  “I’m fine. No problem.” She kept Celine in her sights. A group of teens ran past her, heading for the beach.

  “You’re not in your hotel room,” he growled. “Where the fuck are you?”

  A smirk twisted Celine’s mouth. She folded her arms and leaned against the railing, patiently waiting and listening.

  I don’t have time for this. “You called to interrogate me, really? After I told you we needed space?”

  “I called because I felt your fright.”

  “What? How the hell did you feel that?” She wanted to turn away, give herself some privacy from Celine’s prying eyes. Sophie didn’t dare trust a demon with her unprotected back.

  Silence echoed through the phone, then he said, “I imprinted on you.”

  Celine made a gagging motion with a finger down her throat and Sophie had to agree. “You did what?”

  “Imprinted, so I can keep tabs on you.”

  That didn’t sound sanitary. “What the hell is imprinting? And why did you think you could do that to me and not tell me.” He was so lucky he wasn’t standing in front of her.

  Celine chuckled and studied the ocean.

  Sophie could not have this conversation with an audience. “Look, we’ll talk about this
later. I’m busy right now.”

  “Busy? With what?”

  She ended the call and muted the volume.

  Celine turned back to Sophie. “Males—demon, human, or UnHallowed—they’re all shits. Imprinting is when they leave a part of their shade with you. It’s a way of tracking you, controlling you, stalking you. It’s better than any GPS humans can create.”

  She said humans because she’s not one. Sophie took a step back, her heartbeat kicked up another notch, heading into the aneurysm zone, she gripped her phone. “You’re a demon.”

  Celine nodded. “Not any demon. I’m a Crossroad demon.” She puffed out her chest as if that was supposed to mean something.

  Sophie shrugged. “That means nothing to me.”

  Her lips twisted and she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, not surprising. The old lore is forgotten. Humans have a short memory, thus lots of forgotten history. Your species is doomed to repeat the mistakes of your forefathers. It’s good for us demons, not so good for you and yours.” She grinned as if this was a regular conversation between BFFs over tea and scones.

  She sobered quickly and continued when Sophie didn’t fall for it. “I’m not like the Spaun or the Gergos or Ifirts, or any of the other demons hunting for you.” Her manicured fingers barely touched the center of her chest in mock sincerity. “They take. I give. I can give you your dreams, your fantasies.”

  “I have no dreams and I deal in reality, not fantasies.”

  Celine nodded. “No dreams, huh? Not even the dream about holding your baby in your arms? Smelling her baby magic scent? Holding her doughy body and feeling her pudgy arms as Caitlin tries to give you that first hug.”

  Sophie staggered back, her heart-wrenching in her chest. “H-How do you know that? Know her name?”

  Celine leaned against the railing and crossed her legs, completely relaxed, she hadn’t a care in the world. “I told you. I’m a Crossroad demon. It’s my job to know your desires and fulfill them…for a price.”

  “What price?”

  “Let me explain how this works.” She began in a most reasonable car salesman tone. “At the most basic level, I’m a business woman, much like all the other business people out there in the world making an honest living.”