The Death Skull: Relic Defender, Book 2

by Cassiel Knight

  His lips firmed. He had one option. Something he would have to do. No matter the cost.

  The water in the bathroom shut off. The rattle of the shower curtain rings against the metal bar told him Mari had stepped out of the tub. His mind’s eye pictured her golden skin glistening with water, the long ringlets of hair, dark with water, streaming down her back and across her breasts.

  “Whoa, son,” he murmured and closed his eyes.

  Thinking about Mari, unclothed, was a surefire way to drive him insane. He was halfway there with wanting her anyway. As beautiful as she was, he’d known other beautiful women who had nearly sent him to his knees with desire. With Mari, his feelings for her were more than that. More than the passion he’d seen in her eyes, more than her scent, warm and spicy. More than her violet eyes with their uptilted corners, and even more than the shiny cascade of glittering auburn hair kissed with fire.

  Her strength, determination and steel will were parts of it. So was the fact she was willing to put herself in danger to save his fellow humans when he knew damn well she didn’t care about his race. Still, she stayed and fought for them.

  The bathroom door clicked and he opened his eyes. She entered the room, clothed in a pair of some kind of silky pants and a sleeveless top with, holy hell, lace trim at the neck. Her arms were upraised as she towel-dried her hair. The jiggle of her breasts made his tongue turn thick with the desire to taste her.

  She must have sensed something as the vigorous motion stopped and she slowly lowered her arms. He dragged his gaze upward to meet hers. Anticipating anger, he braced himself for the cutting edge of her tongue. Instead, a slow smile danced across her lips and her gaze darkened as her pupils dilated. With a casual motion, she tossed the towel to the side and stalked to him. Her bold stare never left him. Under the intensity, his body throbbed with need.

  The peaks of her breasts jutted, the nipples pressing against the thin material. His heart hammered in his ears. She closed in on him, halting and standing so close the moist heat from her body curled around him like a warm blanket. Her clean feminine scent washed over him, the smell reminding him of the second rainfall of the season—crisp, fresh and refreshing. Something he would not normally associate with the fiery she-demon.

  He dragged in a lungful of her scent as his gaze traveled over her face and searched her eyes. She met his look with boldness and hunger. He held her stare for a long silent moment which strung between them like a silken thread that she could choose to break at any time.

  Her lips parted. When her tongue came out and stroked over her mouth, he thought he’d come in his jeans. That was enough for him. Crossing the distance between them, he pulled her into his arms. His lips came down hard on hers, his hunger raging through his veins.

  She met his kiss with a hunger and demand of her own. The taste he’d gotten of her before was a campfire blaze compared to the roaring inferno of the touch and feel of her again. He drank in the sweetness of her lips.

  A growl trembled from her and quivered against his mouth, sending an arrow of electricity straight to his groin. Crushing her closer, he explored the outlines of her full, moist lips with his, tickling the soft skin, dancing his tongue into her mouth. The sharp poke of her fangs reminded him that he held a preternatural creature in his arms—not a human woman.

  He didn’t give a rat’s ass.

  While he devoured her mouth, he slipped a hand up under the silky top. At the touch of her heated skin, he swelled more, his cock straining against his jeans. Damn, the woman was hot. Skimming over her skin, he moved his hands upward until he cupped one of her breasts, which seemed to surge into his grasp. His turn to groan as he brushed his thumb across a pebbled nipple.

  Leaving her mouth, he licked and kissed a path down the side of Mari’s neck, lingering for a bit on the fluttering pulse until he reached the delicate lace at the neck of her top. He pulled back slightly, looking into her passion-flushed face. She met his gaze, the lavender engulfed by a red so dark it was garnet.

  He half expected her to bolt from his arms, lashing out at him as she left. She didn’t. Instead, she leaned into him, caressing his bare arms, a teasing, light touch that sent currents of desire rocketing to every inch of him.

  With a smooth twist of her body, she had him by both arms, spun him around and thrust him backward. He fell, his backside hitting the couch cushions a second before her firm body covered his. Her mouth plundered his, her tongue swirling and caressing. He sucked in a breath, inhaling the sweet taste of her. She pressed against him, her pelvis grinding into his. Pulling back slightly, she took his lower lip into her teeth and bit down.

  The shock of the pain-filled pleasure mixed with the salty, metallic taste of blood stunned a moan from him. He couldn’t stop the swell of satisfaction as she echoed his moan with one of her own as it slipped through her lips. Lifting her torso from his, she grabbed the collar of his T-shirt and yanked. The material ripped, the tearing sound loud over their heavy breathing. Flames in her eyes soared, matching the fire in his loins. She leaned over him, dropping her head, and with a combination of tongue, lips and teeth traced a path from his neck to his belly button, then lingered at the waistline of his jeans. Each time the tip of her tongue stroked under the material, he couldn’t help the jump of his body.

  She lifted her head and looked at him, a slight smile curling her lips. Little vixen enjoyed her power over him. As every pulse point throbbed, he grabbed the back of her neck, yanking her lips to his again. Mere millimeters apart, she resisted, a snarl rumbling from her chest.

  He almost came at that moment. Only a tremendous effort of willpower kept his body waiting and shuddering with anticipation. He was not going to mess up his taste of her.

  She danced her fingers down the fine hair from his chest to belly, then unbuttoned the top button of his jeans and slid down the zipper. As she tugged at the material, he lifted his hips to give her easier access. At the same time, he ran his hands up under the tank top, caressing the smooth planes of her back and in a quick flip and twist of his wrists, he pulled off her top. Feasting his gaze on her plump yet firm breasts, his mouth fairly salivated with the urge to take the jutting nipples between his lips.

  Ah hell, what was he waiting for?

  Like a striking snake, he grabbed one tempting nipple and sucked while his fingertips stroked the circle of her breasts. She let out a sharp cry and arched her back, pushing her breast deeper into his eager mouth. He gorged himself on the dusky peak, moving from one to the next as she writhed above him, her head thrown back, the silken ivory column of her throat gleaming in the low lights.

  Blood pounded in his brain and made his knees tremble. All this and they’d indulged only in foreplay?

  Her tormented groan was a heady invitation. Before she could stop him, he wrapped his arms around her while he continued his ministrations of her nipples, surged from the couch, flipped and put her on her back beneath him. She squirmed, protesting, but he held her down using his greater weight. Everything told him she liked to be in control; he planned to show the fiery demon giving up some control was just as pleasurable.

  Shucking his jeans and briefs, he bore down on her, even as he slipped the silky pants from her curvy waist. She lifted her head, nipped at his skin. A small part of him wondered if she’d bitten his neck. The rest of him didn’t fucking care.

  He trailed his fingers down her side, over the sweet curve of her hips, down the outside of her thighs, across her knee and back up until he reached the downy hair and moist, quivering flesh underneath. He sunk his fingertips into the hair, the damp curls clinging. She moaned and arched her back again.

  Slipping a finger inside, he found her ready. Unable to keep himself from feeling her wrapped around his cock, he lifted his hips to better position himself when he was shocked by the feel of her hand, hotter than hot, clutching his member as she guided him to her opening and welcomed him inside her.

  He thrust, her muscles clenching and unclenching around
him, the sheath so tight he felt almost as if he might hurt her, but the gasps and moans she made told him pain was the last thing she was experiencing.

  She met each thrust with a surge of her own, rising upward and swallowing him with abandonment until his need for her overrode everything else and there was only her. Only Mari.

  With their cries muffled by each other’s lips, Jackson shattered, shuddering into her as he buried his face in her neck, inhaling the spicy scent so familiar. So Mari.

  He held her close until his passion was spent and the throb of her core trembled to a halt.

  Christ in Heaven, he was in big trouble.

  The next day, one day after they’d arrived in Belize, Marisol stood on the banana plantation’s jetty looking out over the Columbia River. She and Jackson were waiting for the guide who would take them to San Pedro Columbia, not to be confused with San Pedro Town, then into the jungle to Lubaantun, the City of Fallen Stones. Tendrils of her hair—the pieces escaping from the tight braid she’d woven—stuck to her temples and her neck with irritating discomfort.

  Fires of Hell, this place was worse than actually being in Hell. Oppressing humidity that clung to her body, sapping her strength. She inhaled a quick breath then swore at the clash of jungle and human odors. Various scents that fought for dominance each time she breathed.

  She’d only been in Belize two days, and the first one hadn’t counted since they’d spent it in a resort hotel. Now, not even a full day later, she was certain she’d never come back again. Not because the tiny country sandwiched between Guatemala and the Caribbean Sea wasn’t absolutely fascinating and gorgeous. Or that the people weren’t friendly. For humans, they were quite pleasant.

  It was the insufferable heat and humidity. If she’d wanted to sweat all the time, she could have stayed with Lucifer in Hell. A tiny, dark insect flew into her face. “Cerberus’s heads,” she muttered. The bugs too. The place seemed rife with the tiny winged beasts.

  “What’s the matter, Mari? Doesn’t this feel like home?”

  She slid Jackson a flat glance. Other than a slight sheen of sweat glazing the bits of his chest not covered by the white shirt, he seemed perfectly at ease. A hat rode low on his forehead. She couldn’t see his eyes but did see the amused twist to his lips.

  The sight tore her back to last night. She had gone after Jackson as if she’d been a bitch in heat, tearing at his clothes and skin, trying to brand him forever. He’d met her fiery passion with a darkness of his own, as fast and furious as she had been. Even now, the juncture at her thighs tingled with remembering the feel of him thrusting into her, hard and fast until they’d both found a violent, satisfying release.

  After that, she had been the one to leave, to find her rest in one of the bedrooms. From the disappointed look on his face, it seemed he’d expected she’d join him in one room or stay beside him on that couch. Maybe for an encore performance. Or several. But that wasn’t going to happen. She’d had sex with him and while she wasn’t going to kick herself for succumbing, she wasn’t going to stay around for round two.

  She’d needed the release. From the desire that had been there all along, smoldering like a banked fire—building between them since the day in the training center, just before the mission. It made sense to give in to it last night. They needed their minds focused on the skull and Beliel. Lust made humans, and fallen angels, weak.

  A human saying that men tended to think with their little eye, meaning their penis, as she’d learned, seemed appropriate, but a distinction not only applied to men. She’d seen what lust could do to the strongest. While she hadn’t fallen due to lust, she knew many of her brothers and sisters who had. Including Mikos.

  Back to Jackson. Not wishing to give him something to use against her, she simply curled her lips from her teeth.

  The twist of his mouth grew into a smile. “Ah, I see.”

  “Maybe you will, one day.”

  “As long as you are there, darlin’, it will seem like Heaven to me,” he drawled.

  Mari eyed the water moving sluggishly past the jetty. Wonder what would happen if she pushed him off? How calm and at ease would he be then? A splash farther out in the Columbia caught her attention just long enough to see the flip of a tail. She mentally shook her head. Despite her wishes, she needed him intact, not as crocodile food.

  She sighed, her mind returning to their trip here. After the harrowing plane ride in a tiny six-seater, which was much worse than the big ones, she was never going to get into another plane, Michael’s threats be damned.

  After departing San Pedro Town, they’d landed at the Philip S.W. Goldson International Airport in Belize City. From the airport, she’d been forced to squeeze in next to Jackson in a clapped-out, old school bus, which lumbered along the bumpy road to the beginning of the swampy waterways that dominated the coast of Belize. It was a long, rough trip before they finally ended up in the central town of Belmopan, the capital of Belize.

  Just like most things, he’d taken their predicament in stride and had struck up a conversation with a dark-skinned man who carried a basket containing bright-fuchsia-colored fruits he’d called pitaya, or dragon fruit.

  She looked at Jackson again. Even as he appeared relaxed and calm, she noticed a dark shadow in his gaze that hadn’t been there before. It seemed to have arrived after the incident with Kat. After Mari had given Jackson a piece of paper with his name on it that had fallen out of Kat’s hands. When asked about it, he had shrugged and said it was just old business. Nothing to worry about. Yet she sensed he did worry. Quite a bit.

  The thought that something had put that darkness in his eyes made her feel slightly uneasy. She didn’t like secrets. She especially didn’t like them kept by someone she worked closely with. Or had the kind of past he had.

  “Hola, senorita!”

  Mari turned to face in the direction from which the heavily accented Spanish had come. The older man wore black-striped white pants cut off at the knees with a plaid shirt over a grimy white T-shirt. His broad-brimmed hat hid his brow but highlighted the dark eyes and tanned, heavily lined face. He beamed at her, his lips hidden by a bushy mustache.

  “You wish to go to Lubaantun?”

  His English, while accented, was clear and strong, with no hesitation.

  “Yes, we do,” she answered. “Today.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed as he focused on her. Feeling as if she were under a microscope, she lifted her chin, meeting his intense stare straight on. A few seconds later, he smiled and nodded.

  “Si. No problem.” He gestured to the sky. “Plenty of time to get there and back before dark. It is not good to be out after dark. Many banditos prey during the night.”

  The threat of bandits did not bother her. But she didn’t want the interruption. The sooner they got to the skull, the better. Especially if it put them there before Beliel and Jahi with their hostage.

  Jackson had inquired around town and no one seemed to recall a tall blond man and woman with a shorter, blonde-haired woman asking about the City of Fallen Stones. But then, this time of the year, there were many tourists in the country and on the Cayes, the various tiny islands dotting the coastline.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I am Marisol.” She gestured to Jackson. “This is Jackson.”

  “Very good to meet you. I am Yaluk. Come.” He gestured to a young boy standing next to him.

  Mari hadn’t noticed the child until the old man had drawn her attention to him. The little boy appeared to be ten years old. When he lifted large, coffee-colored eyes to meet hers, she saw something else. Regardless of the age of his body, his eyes held an old wisdom. Despite his youth, the boy had seen and understood much more than many.

  “This is my grandson, Kanek. He’ll fetch and carry for you during the trip.” Yaluk patted the boy’s shoulder. “He’s strong. Fit. Works hard.”

  Unnerved by the boy’s intense stare, Mari smiled, a slight lift of her lips. Kanek’s eyes widened. Tugging on his grandfa
ther’s sleeve, he whispered into the old man’s ear, his solemn gaze never leaving her face.

  Despite knowing all languages, she could not follow the conversation between Kanek and Yaluk, even with the few Spanish similarities. Odd that she didn’t recognize their language.

  She did catch one word that sounded familiar. Mayans didn’t have a word that specifically meant demon, but she recognized the reference to evil spirit. The boy must think she was some sort of Mayan evil spirit.

  How did that make her feel?

  Lifting her chin again, she stared at Yaluk and Kanek, who had their gazes locked on her. She would not hide from them who she was. Let them think she was an evil spirit. It was simpler that way.

  Yaluk looked away first but she sensed he did it for expedience, not because he felt she was above him. He gestured to the other two men talking with Jackson, who apparently hadn’t witnessed the exchange.

  “Acan and Vulun. They will protect.”

  She studied both men, not liking the gleam of avarice behind their brown eyes. They would bear watching.

  The boat trip through the swamp was uneventful but worthwhile in that the slight breeze over the water helped her forget the oppressive heat, if only for a short while. At another banana plantation jetty, they got into an open four-wheel-drive vehicle. Acan drove, weaving a spine-jolting path through the jungle. Mari held on to the roll bar as her body was thrown from side to side.

  They drove through small Mayan villages filled with wooden huts, their vehicle scattering chickens. As they passed, children laughed and raced after them. Women washed clothing in the river. Despite the hard and menial nature of the work, smiles wreathed the faces and crinkled their eyes. Many waved at the vehicle and Yaluk waved back. Kanek chattered in rapid-fire Mayan, which she knew, to the children who ran along the vehicle.