Good and bad were simply judgments. Demons wanted to live, and their natures dictated they do so in a certain way that usually meant torture and killing others. Was she looking to join their ranks? Hell no. Would she battle them to her last breath? Hell, yes. But they were simply what they were.
And Maccus was no different. He was driven to survive just as she was. Death for one of them was inevitable. Her only hope was to slip past his defenses and kill him before he killed her.
A sense of loss and heartache filled her, driving out the passion.
He pulled back and stared down at her. “Don’t think about it.”
He knew. Of course, he did. And like her, he seemed conflicted about it.
Or maybe she was simply projecting. Maybe he’d have no problem slitting her throat when the time came.
She raised her hand to her neck and covered it. Flimsy protection at best.
Making a sound she took to be displeasure, he stroked his big hands over her torso before cupping her breasts. His palms covered them easily. Fear aside, every fiber of her being responded to his touch. Even now, she was wet for him.
“No one will get past the wards I set,” he reminded her. What went unsaid was that he had no plans to kill her, either. At least not until after they fucked again.
They were alone for now. Lucifer wasn’t going to pop in and snatch her away for not killing Maccus. While she couldn’t stay here forever, for now, she was free to do as she pleased.
What would have happened if she and Maccus had met under other circumstances, one not tainted by secrets and lies?
I want to feel beautiful, like a woman, not a demon hunter.
Maccus’s dark eyes gave away nothing of his thoughts. But his body told a different story. His lips were slightly parted, his breathing heavy. The heat of his erection pulsed hard against her thigh. He was still, a patient hunter waiting to flush out his prey.
Death was always hovering, waiting to swoop in and take what little existence she had. She’d much rather taste life.
She placed her hands over his and pressed them more firmly against her breasts. Some piece of information tickled the back of her brain, some tidbit about a fallen angel. What was it?
Then Maccus leaned down and ran his tongue over the slope of her breast, and her mind turned to mush. Either she’d think of it later or she wouldn’t. But for now, she’d enjoy what was to come.
The texture of his skin was rough. The heat of his mouth made her crave more. And he gave it to her. He swiped at her nipple with his tongue before sucking on the hardened nub. Heat and tingles raced from that point down to between her thighs. She clutched at his hair, letting it glide through her fingers. It was as soft as the finest silk and a sensual caress whenever it brushed her skin.
His neck was thick, his shoulders broad. Touching him was like being allowed to pet a wild, exotic animal. One that others feared. It gave her a sense of courage and also of being privileged.
The erotic torture continued as he dragged his tongue over one nipple and then the other, massaging her breasts until it was no longer enough. A low growl slipped past his lips when she lifted her hips and rubbed herself against him. In retaliation, he worked his way down her body, peppering her torso with kisses until he finally settled between her spread thighs.
God, he was going to lick between her legs. Anticipation had her panting and her core spasming.
He placed his hands on her inner thighs and pushed them wide, exposing her totally to his gaze. His eyes flashed, turning from black to red, momentarily startling her.
Then he ran his tongue over her slick folds from back to front, and all else fell away. A low moan escaped her when he flicked his tongue over her clit.
“Don’t stop.” Her voice was hoarse with barely suppressed need. It was deeper than usual. Sultry.
He lifted his head and licked his lips, his eyes gleaming with sexual promise. Then he dove back in sucking and licking her into madness.
He’s going to kill me.
Was it possible to die of sexual frustration? Doubtful, but it seemed that way. It was too much. It wasn’t enough. He’d get her to the edge and pull back, leaving her hanging. She wrapped her legs around his shoulders and thumped her heels against his back.
The man was diabolical.
“Finish it before I kill you.” The threat was real. She was ready to use her knife on him if necessary. He laughed, and that low sound of pleasure vibrated through her, making her shiver with a mini orgasm. She cried out and clutched him tighter.
“Oh, I’ll finish it.” It was both a threat and a promise. Another small spasm rocked her. “I’m not stopping until you scream.”
Okay then. That was good. Excellent, in fact.
Fisting the covers in her hands, she held on as he dragged the flat of his tongue over her clit, making good on his promise. She writhed and moaned, the heat from between her legs spreading across her entire body. Hell had never been this hot.
The cold in her soul melted against the onslaught of Maccus. He was too big, too primal, too powerful, too hot, too…everything.
Panic rose inside her hard and fast. She kicked at his shoulders.
Have to get away.
He gripped her hips, holding her in place as he thrust his tongue into her, simulating the sex act.
She stopped trying to break free, instead tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. The push and pull at war inside her a silent battle. So close. So clo—
Heat blasted through her—an explosion of pleasure so intense her vision dimmed. Her entire being shook and shuddered, her orgasm slamming into her with the subtly of a freight train.
He surged upward, his gaze capturing hers. The blunt tip of his cock probed her opening. His thick cock forged inward, stretching her, filling her, until he was seated to the hilt.
He overwhelmed her with the force of his possession. Ripples of pleasure rolled through her. She came again, this time not quite as intensely, but no less devastating.
But he wasn’t done. Sitting back on his heels, he gripped her hips in his large hands and thrust.
The friction was divine. The wetness from her orgasms made it easier to take him.
It was sublime.
She was in big trouble. He could ask her anything right now and she’d blurt out the truth. Was that his plan? Fuck her into honesty?
It was working.
Maybe she should try it.
His big body heaved over her, his tension mounting. He threw back his head and roared as the hot spurt of his release filled her.
Her eyes rolled back in her head. Fingernails dug into his forearms where she gripped him. The glow spilling from the hallway illuminated him. He was magnificent in his passion. His skin glistened. His tattoos shimmered, almost seeming to rise on his body before settling back down.
A long-lost memory came rushing back. It was a snippet of conversation overheard during her early days in Hell. She’d done her best to block those days from her memory. They were filled with torture and humiliation while she was “trained” for her new job as a hunter.
Two demons spoke in hushed tones about a man with tattoos, a dangerous one who even Lucifer feared. A fallen angel, one so deadly that neither Heaven nor Hell wanted him.
Icy fear crept over her body, freezing out the pleasure of her orgasms.
Like an animal scenting danger, he raised his head and watched her as he slowly withdrew. Her body still pulsed and throbbed.
But there was no denying the truth.
“You’re the one they call Hunter.”
…
Damn. She figured it out. He would have liked to fuck her again.
Inhaling deeply, he held the smell of sex in his lungs. Who knew how long it would be before he had such a lovely partner again?
“Yes, I’m Hu
nter.” That seemed to take her aback. “Did you think I’d deny it?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” She sat up in bed, pressing her back against the headboard and wrapping her arms around her legs, totally closing herself off from him.
He climbed off the bed, grabbed a pair of pants from his closet, and pulled them on.
Deciding he’d be less distracted with her covered, he plucked a T-shirt from one of the shelves and tossed it toward her. He caught a glimpse of her perfect breasts as she yanked it on, covering her nakedness. It was a crime to hide them. They weren’t overly large, but sensitive and very responsive. He’d barely had a taste.
“You’re Hunter. The Hunter. Fallen angel, spent time in Hell thousands of years ago, and is now an assassin.” She held up one hand and ticked points off with the other.
“Yes.”
Some hot, sweaty sex with a willing woman, one he didn’t have to hide his identity with, wasn’t too much to ask.
Be careful what you wish for.
It always changed things.
“I want to eat.” With sex off the table, he might as well feed another hunger. He left the room, somewhat surprised when she scrambled after him without bothering to grab her weapons. It also showed her innate intelligence. Weapons would only put him even more on edge, and she couldn’t kill him with the limited ones she had at her disposal.
There was plenty of food in the refrigerator, but nothing appealed. Sitting on one of the stools at the counter, she watched him, her gaze drifting from him to the symbols on the walls and back again.
Since there was nothing that appealed to him, he grabbed his phone. “You like Italian?”
“I do, but you do realize it is early morning. No Italian restaurant is going to be open.”
Shit, she was right. He tossed the phone down in disgust. It hit the contract Gabriel had left with him, making it spin toward her.
Her eyes widened when she got a good look at it. Could she read the angelic language? Not many could outside angelkind.
“This has my name on it.” Horror filled her gaze, but she was smart enough not to touch it. “This has my name on it,” she repeated, her voice getting louder.
Good a time as any to go on the offensive. “It does.”
“What is it?” she demanded as she slipped off the stool.
“It’s a contract on your life.” Curiosity forced him to push harder. “What have you done to give an angel a hard-on for you?”
Her entire face went pale, and she staggered back a step. So she hadn’t known. Interesting. And still, their paths had crossed.
Why?
Morrigan straightened her shoulders. There was no fear in her gaze. No, there was only acceptance. And that bothered him—a hell of a lot more than it should.
She licked her bottom lip, drawing his gaze. Fuck, he wanted to kiss her again.
“What have you done to give Lucifer such a hard-on for you?”
Now, this was a surprise, and not at all what he’d been expecting. “What do you mean?”
She motioned to the document. “Some angel has contracted you to kill me, and Lucifer ordered me to kill you. What’s going on?”
He studied her, using every skill at his command to assess her. She didn’t flinch from his perusal. Her breathing remained normal, and so did her pupils. He sniffed the air but scented no deception. She wasn’t lying. That was even more curious.
“I have no fucking idea. But whatever it is, I plan to find out.”
…
I’m still alive. Go me.
Best not to get too excited. A bloody angel had put out a contract on her. An angel! And he’d hired the most dangerous assassin in the world.
“I’m nobody,” she told Maccus, at a total loss. “I’m a low-level demon bounty hunter.”
“Who were you before?” He came closer, and this time she didn’t back away. It was pointless. And she had a sinking feeling the tattoos inked on his skin were more than just mere decorations. She remembered the daggers sticking out of the demon she’d captured and how they’d vanished into thin air.
“I was an ordinary woman, living an ordinary life.” She went to the window and stared out at the beautiful skyline. The sun was rising, giving the city an ethereal glow, but it couldn’t drive back the darkness filling her. “My mother died when I was eighteen, leaving me to raise my younger sister.”
“Your father?”
“Not in the picture. I don’t remember him. He got her pregnant with me and then left. Came back a few years later, stayed long enough to get her pregnant with Kayley, and then split again. My mother didn’t have the best taste in men.” She turned away from the view.
With his bare feet spread wide, his jeans zipped but not buttoned, his chest gleaming, and a scowl on his face, Maccus was the poster child for a pissed-off god.
Yup, in the dictionary under the word “screwed” was her photo.
“What did you do for a living?” This was turning into an interrogation. Since there was no dining table and chairs, she sat on the floor and leaned against the wall.
“I worked two jobs—a janitor in the evening and a waitress during the day. I’d planned to go to college once I had Kayley raised and through school.”
“But that didn’t happen.”
He prowled toward her until he stood over her. Since she hated being at such a disadvantage, she pushed to her feet. “No, it didn’t happen.” She’d never been able to figure out what had gone wrong. “Maybe it was her being on her own so much, or not having either of her parents, or she fell in with the wrong crowd.”
Morrigan would never forget the night she’d come home from her last cleaning job, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to get a shower and climb into bed, only to find Kayley and several of her “friends” conducting some sort of ritual in their living room.
She dragged her fingers through her hair. Sometimes it still surprised her to discover it was short. Her long auburn hair had been her one claim to beauty. And the first thing Lucifer had done was to hack it off. Keeping it short was a reminder of what she’d become. Plus, it was easier to take care of and couldn’t be used against her in a fight.
“The wrong crowd,” he prompted.
“Yeah, they were conducting a ritual in our living room when I got home from work.”
Maccus swore under his breath.
“Yeah, that about covers it.”
“They summoned a demon?”
“Oh no, they went straight for the big guy himself.”
“Your little sister summoned Lucifer?” He seemed so incredulous, she almost smiled.
“No second-best for Kayley. She was too smart for her own good. Told me after it was just a lark. They’d never expect it to work or anything to come from it.” Kayley’s tear-stained face would haunt her for eternity. “They were just kids, experimenting.”
“I don’t think so.”
His quiet statement made her bristle. He had no right to criticize Kayley. He didn’t know her. “What do you mean by that?”
He gripped her shoulders and dragged her closer. “I mean that you don’t get to summon Lucifer on the first try. That’s not how it works. You have to be adept and accomplished. You have to have several years of practice behind you, have successfully summoned lesser demons. You have to be fully into the lifestyle before you can even attempt to summon Lucifer, let alone get him to appear.”
That couldn’t be right, couldn’t be true.
Morrigan’s throat closed, her chest constricting. No air was getting to her lungs.
He had to be wrong. Her sister wasn’t like that. Kayley was good and kind and smart. She was going to be an artist.
Maccus swore and shoved her head down until it was practically touching her knees. “Breathe,” he ordered. His deep, commanding voice steadied her. The vise
around her loosened its grip. When she raised her head, all the blood rushed away, making her dizzy.
“What are you saying?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. She didn’t want to think it, let alone believe it. But he had no reason to lie to her, had nothing to gain.
“I’m saying that your sister was no innocent.” He brushed a short lock of hair off her forehead, the gesture uncommonly gentle, as if he understood she was hanging on to her sanity by a thread. “But you were. My guess is you were the sacrifice to Lucifer all along. And you played into their game, giving your soul up willingly to save Kayley.”
“No.” She shook her head, unwilling to believe. “No, that’s not right.” Coldness seeped into her bones. A shiver started at her toes and worked its way up until her entire body shook. It’s not true.
If it was, her sister had betrayed her. How could she live with that?
Maccus’s dark eyes held a glimmer of what might be pity. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Chapter Seven
Shit, he hated the look on Morrigan’s face. Worse, that he’d put it there. And he shouldn’t care. It was nothing to him if she was gullible enough to let her sister trick her into surrendering her soul to Lucifer.
He wondered what Kayley had gained from her sister’s sacrifice.
His hands fisted by his sides to keep from reaching for Morrigan. She wouldn’t welcome his touch. Not now. He’d destroyed her memories of her sister.
Should have kept my fucking mouth shut.
How did the saying go? No good deed goes unpunished.
The urge to kill rose inside him like a tidal wave. He flexed the muscles in his arms and legs and breathed deeply to calm the rage.
Loyalty. It was rare in his world. Morrigan had given it to her sister and been betrayed. No matter what happened, he planned to pay Kayley a visit at some point down the road.
If ever there was anyone in need of killing, it was Kayley Quill.
That still didn’t tell him why Morrigan was on Gabriel’s hit list.
“You ever meet an angel?” he asked.
She was shaken but was still on her feet. Her strength was impressive.
Unleashed Fury (N.J. Walters) Page 6