by D. F. Jones
“I can’t.” She breathlessly panted. “I can’t let you, Damon.”
“You can’t consent?”
“I must not.” She appealed to him with large, imploring eyes.
“And if I make you?”
Cathy’s head rose with defiance. “You could try.”
The bravado was back. Damon smiled. He adored how gutsy and willful she was. From the first moment he’d spotted her, he’d admired her pluck, and he respected it no less now.
“Yes, I could.” The hand at her chin threaded her silky, blonde locks, fisting them roughly. “I could make you.”
Damon leaned closer to her face, his passion swelling at her concerned expression. Intoxicating though she was, he was still a creature of the darkness, and her spiking trepidation drove him wild with desire.
“If it helps, you could say I forced you.”
Cathy blinked at him. “Forced?”
“Yes, Cathy.” Damon sent his voice vibrating down the length of her body, sensing the tingle of anticipation coursing through her. “Tell them I took you against your will.”
Chapter 8
Cathy
Cathy’s body was alive with sensation—the feel of his fingers tightening in her hair, the dark glint in those captivating eyes as they seemingly held her in place, his muscular body when he pressed it against her. The sensations merged, forming a delicious wave of inebriation in her head, and all at once, Damon’s words made sense. There was a small part of her brain that still wanted to fight—to push him away—but that fragment of the woman she once was seemed to slip away.
The burgeoning desire he inspired melted the iceberg at her core, threatening to cause an implosion. And Cathy wanted it to crumble—she wanted to concede. For too long, she’d played the ice queen, guardian to a district of virtual strangers who neither sought her protection nor offered gratitude for her efforts. It had never bothered her—until now. She’d have spent the next decades of her life toiling for them and never giving a second thought to her own selfish, base needs.
But now there was Damon and the power of those compelling eyes, and everything was different. Cathy was different.
“What will you do to me?” The question caught in her throat, his supremacy undeniable while the hand not lodged in her hair skimmed a line down over her behind.
“Everything you want, Cathy.” Damon pressed a line of kisses to her jaw, and electricity sparked in Cathy’s brain. “And more. If you so desire.”
He nipped at her skin, making her pant while she struggled to be free of his hold.
“Damon.” Cathy was little more than a panting mess.
“Stop fretting,” he soothed, offering what she presumed was a reassuring smile—if such a thing existed from a creature as deadly as he. “I know everything, little human. I know all the hedonism of your dreams. All those things you suppress. The ones you’re too ashamed to talk about.”
He pinned Cathy with a knowing gaze. Damon reveled in the way she squirmed in response, his power over her only growing as the discussion about their coupling intensified.
Her gaze flitted around as best she could. “Where?” she demanded.
Cathy’s heart raced, and she could hardly believe she gave credence to the concept, yet she knew the truth as much as Damon. She wanted him. For all of its irrationality, she desired him. Damon offered her the chance to be more than just herself, to step outside the realm she usually ruled over, and right or wrong, Cathy wanted to take it.
She didn’t know who this demon was—or what was wrong with her—but she knew before this encounter concluded, she wanted him to do all those things she’d fantasized about. He could be the shadow leading her into temptation. The one who tainted her, and nobody else needed to know, ever.
It could be Cathy’s dirty little secret.
“Wherever you want it, little human.” His free hand rose to her face, and he loomed over her. “And yes, I can be that for you, Cathy.”
Her lips parted at his answer. It no longer perturbed her how the beast read her thoughts. Now, it was a blessing—he could take what he wanted and know without a doubt what she coveted. It was perfect—too perfect not to seize.
“But you have to let me go afterward,” Cathy blurted out, her belly furling when Damon’s head tilted in response.
“Do I?” He grinned down at her. “And why is that?”
Cathy exhaled. “Because it’s the only way you’ll get to keep me, demon.” She pressed herself up against him boldly. “As my dirty little secret.”
Damon’s brow rose, but an errant smile soon lit his face. “Is that right?”
“Yes.” Her heart raced, caught up in the web of lust in the plan she was spinning. “Take me, Damon. Make me yours. Claim what you want, then make sure I get back home. That way, you can return whenever you need.” Cathy paused as the implications of her words landed over her like an avalanche. “Whenever you want me.”
He ran his tongue over his teeth, contemplating her offer, no doubt intentionally making her wait.
“You do know I can take you, regardless?” Damon’s smile widened at the thought. “I can take whatever I want and keep you here, helpless and desperate for me.”
A surge of emotion swelled in her chest at the assertion. Cathy was used to being the powerful one—the one with influence—and the idea she could be impotent filled her first with dread, then fury.
“Not for long, demon,” she spat, fixing him with a hard stare. “My energy will return, and my people will come for me. Far better, we both get something from the arrangement.”
She wanted to gasp at her own audacity. In all her years, Cathy had never known herself to be so forward. Perhaps, Damon affected her more than she realized. He inspired this wild, grittier version of Cathy—a woman who wanted the carnality he promised.
Damon laughed softly, stroking back her hair before his mouth descended. His lips skimmed over hers, making her an offer she couldn’t resist, pressing against her gently and wordlessly. Overwhelmed by desire, Cathy leaned into the kiss. She wanted it. She needed it.
To be possessed by a creature like Damon.
To be set free.
Chapter 9
Damon
The kiss roused him in ways his kind rarely experienced. It was a slow and sensual dance as his tongue skirted inside her mouth, not the usual rabid offensive Damon reveled in, yet when he pulled away, he couldn’t think to regret it. Cathy was exquisite. She was every inch as intriguing as he’d first concluded, but Damon had never reckoned on this outcome—whisking her away here and bartering a deal, which meant he could enjoy her soft sensuality whenever the need took him.
He was sorely tempted to take her offer.
“And you’ll just continue to be a guardian?”
Cathy blinked up at him, her cheeks flushing. “I... yes, I will still be a guardian.”
“But you’ll be my little whore, too, human.” He grinned at the evaluation. Damon liked the sound of that. He liked it a lot.
Her brow furrowed, “I am no one’s whore.”
“You say that,” he whispered. “But you have to promise me, Cathy. Promise me I have your word. If we do this and if I take you back—you’ll be mine on demand.”
She gulped, sucking her lip between her teeth. “I promise. Should we shake hands on it?”
Damon sniggered. “No need,” he determined. “But you, Cathy, you don’t know the things I can do with my hands.”
As he spoke, he relaxed the tension in her hair and slowly unfastened the buttons at the front of her pajama top. Their gazes met again as the third button was released, Cathy’s mouth opening in silent protest, but no words reached her lips. She had every opportunity to reach for his hands, to halt their progress, but she didn’t. Instead, she stood there, panting and sucking at her lower lip while he finally drew the fabric apart.
“You’re wonderful.” His attention shifted to her glorious body, his hands reaching for her, pulling her flush against him
. “Just as I knew you’d be.” And of course, he did know, having already watched her shower on numerous occasions.
“What can you do with them?” She craned her neck then with a whisper, she asked, “Your hands, I mean. What can you do with them?”
Damon chuckled at her inquiry. Innocent Cathy might be—more innocent than him anyway—but the electricity between them was obviously not lost on her. “Anything you like,” he growled, slipping the top from her shoulders. “And as for my tongue.”
He lowered to his knees, tugging the sides of Cathy’s pajama bottoms, watching the material pool at her ankles. Damon’s gaze landed on her delectable body before his focus shifted back to her face. Cathy’s expression was expectant. He sensed she was on the verge of something, something which had the power to enthrall her, and he knew how much she craved that power.
“The things I can do with my tongue, little human.” He flashed her a salacious wink before his attention was back on the soft hair between her legs. Damon wanted to corrupt her all right. He wanted to devour her.
“Show me.” Cathy’s demand was a breathy gasp. “Show me, Damon. Please.”
Was there any sweeter sound in the known universe than that of a needy woman, hellbent on her own sinful demise? He didn’t think so.
“Sit down.”
A high-backed silver chair materialized behind Cathy as he gave the instruction. She gazed back at the thing, her bewilderment clear, yet she didn’t protest. Easing herself onto the seat, her left leg lifted clear of her pajama bottoms before her gaze met his once more.
“Like this?” She bit her lip, but Cathy’s playful tone suggested she was more than willing to concede to the adventure.
Damon grinned at her. “Precisely like that,” he praised. Reaching forward, he scooped up her tiny frame, lifting his palms under her bare behind and drawing her delicious body toward the place he was kneeling.
“It’s time to give yourself to me, Cathy.”
Cathy
Give herself to him?
Damon’s words echoed around her head like a twisted sermon, each a verdict on her shameless behavior. Yet as his lips pressed into her left calf, planting a line of scintillating caresses up to her knees, Cathy’s concern faded. He lifted his face to her, those amethyst eyes capturing her the way they had done right from the start.
“Relax,” he ordered with a devilish smile. “You’re not going anywhere, Cathy.”
And she wasn’t. There was nowhere she could go—nowhere she wanted to go—and nothing for her to do except watch the devotion Damon paid her body. With each new caress, the well of need at her core grew until, after what seemed like an age of gentle, burgeoning ecstasy, Cathy finally gave in. She could no longer watch his flawless ministrations, her head falling back against the chair in defeat.
Damon chuckled at the gesture, but his lips never halted their insistent pursuit, pressing hot kisses onto her thighs, one after the other, from the back of her knees and north to the place which most sought his attention. Heat bloomed as his mouth captured Cathy, her body straining to be free of the sweet intensity. She gripped the edges of the seat, her body fraught with the most incredible tension.
“Oh, God!”
It was singly the most preposterous thing to mutter in the presence of a creature like Damon, but there were no other words for it. He laughed, and her muscles clenched harder at the dark sound.
“Not yet, Cathy.” Damon gazed up from the floor, and she was compelled to meet those mesmerizing eyes. “I assume you rather like my kisses?”
She bit her lip. “Yes,” she exclaimed. There was little point in denying what was so patently obvious. “Oh, yes, Damon.”
“More then?” He tilted his head at her, squeezing her behind in those large palms.
“Yes, please.”
Cathy’s shame was complete—at least, it should have been, but with the touch of his lips burning into her flesh again, all she could think about was how a fiend who had fallen so low could possibly have the power to take her so high.
Higher than any of those she’d sworn to serve.
Higher than she had ever known.
And that’s where you’re going to stay, Cathy Bateman.
Damon’s voice reverberated in her head even though she swore he hadn’t spoken, and his mouth still danced at her skin. Gasping, she arched while the pleasure grew.
I’m going to push you higher and higher, and that’s where you’re going to stay until I come to claim you again.
Calling out his name, Cathy’s eyes fluttered closed at the edict.
Wherever Damon’s pleasure pushed her would be just fine with her.
Chapter 10
Cathy
Cathy roused, rolling onto her side to blink at the clock. The display read 07:00 and she lifted her hand to her temple wearily. That had been one hell of a dream she’d just conjured, and while the memories of it slipped away with the sleep, she could still feel the scorching desire at her core.
“That was no dream, little human.”
She leapt at the sound of his voice, struggling to lift the covers to protect her modesty. Fleetingly, she wondered where her pajamas were, but the tall, brooding stranger in the corner of her bedroom seemed to be the more pressing issue.
“Damon.” His name came to her in a heartbeat, heat creeping to her face as the recollections of the things they’d done bloomed in her mind. “Oh God, you’re real.”
“Of course, I’m real, Cathy.” Damon’s lips curled as he kicked away from the wall and wandered over to the bed. “Did you really think you could dream anything as scandalous as me?” He grinned at his apparent humor, but her throat dried instinctively.
“I didn’t think it was real,” she murmured.
“It was all real.”
She lifted her chin at the clarity in his tone, those incredible eyes capturing her all again.
“Yes,” she mumbled. “Yes, it was.”
“I kept my end of the bargain,” he said, sitting down next to her. “I brought you back here to continue your good work.” His brows rose with his sarcasm. “But I did so on the understanding we reached, Cathy. On the promise you made me.”
Anxiety twisted in her belly, and an image of their exchange filled her mind.
“You recall what you promised me?”
“Yes,” she breathed. Oh, God, she did.
“What?” Damon demanded. “What did you promise?”
“That I would be yours.” She met his gaze, and even though Cathy was horror-stricken at the reality of them, she was also enraptured. If the things she remembered were truly not a dream, then Damon had been nothing short of miraculous. His attention was soul-shaking, and she wanted more of it. “Whenever you want.”
Damon grinned. “There’s my girl,” he purred, reaching for her and drawing her body from the bedding toward him.
“Damon,” Cathy panted, her eyes darting around her room as though she expected half of the village to bear witness to her shame. “Damon, we can’t. Not here. Not now.”
He shook his head even as those fingers tightened in her hair. “That wasn’t part of the deal, little human,” he told her softly. “You promised to be available on demand.”
Damon whispered those last two words as though they were something illicit, and when they resonated through her head, Cathy realized they were.
“No pretty lies, Cathy.” He held her in place while his mouth skimmed over her lips. “And no propaganda. Those are the traits of the demon, not the guardian.”
Cathy swallowed. He was right. Damn him all the way to hell and back, but Damon was right, and even though she should despise him for the things he’d inspired in her, she knew she didn’t. She didn’t loathe him—she wanted him.
Damon evoked passion and lust.
“Okay,” she panted. “Yes, it’s true. I promised to be available on demand.”
“Good.” With a raised brow, he added, “Because I demand you now, Cathy Bateman.”
Cathy barely had time to smile before he landed on her, his weight pinioning her to the bed. There was no time to resist. What would have been the point? Even for a woman as powerful as Cathy, it was a pointless enterprise.
Where Damon was concerned, resistance was truly futile.
About Felicity Brandon
Felicity Brandon is a bestselling author. She loves the darker side of romance, and writes, sexy, suspenseful stories with passion. You’ll find her either at her laptop, at the gym, or rocking out to her favorite music.
Visit her website for more information.
Also by Felicity Brandon:
The Dark Necessities world:
Taken
Tamed
Entwined
Flawed
Fallen
Forbidden
Tempted
* * *
The Unyielding Dark Necessities trilogy
* * *
Dark Daddy series:
Mastered by Daddy
Daddy’s Little Captive
The Sleeping Viking Beauty by Rachel Tsoumbakos
Fantasy
Chapter 1
Brunhild
Brunhild’s gaze scanned the battlefield. She could see the bright red of defeat splattered across the landscape. The smell assaulted her and she swallowed hard against it. Even though bodies lay everywhere, to her, it was the scent of victory.
Looking down at her feet, she saw the lifeless corpse of Hjalmgunnar. He should be standing next to her, waiting for Odin to congratulate him.
Instead, Brunhild had cut him down.
She tried not to dwell on her punishment as she continued to survey the fallen. She could see her sisters as they moved among the dead. Occasionally, one would drop to her knees, checking for life and helping a warrior cross into their new life as a treasured member of Odin’s army. Other times, the Valkyrie would pause before moving on, the man obviously not worthy yet. If they were to fight against the gods in the end times, the warriors selected had to be in peak condition.