“I’ve been busy.”
Wrong thing to say. Her eyes flared. “What’s more important than your life? You could have died.”
“I’m hardly going to let that happen, now am I?”
She pulled open the front of her robe, revealing her perfect, unmarred skin. Slender fingers smoothed over her flat stomach and moved between her thighs. “You realize I will have to punish you?”
“But of course, mistress”
She hissed. She hated when he called her that. But he refused to call her by her name. That was an intimacy he would refuse her until the day he died.
“Get on your back, drudge,” she snapped. Oh yeah, she was pissed. She only called him that when extremely displeased.
He did as she said, because Helena held all the cards.
When he was just fourteen, she’d bought him from a sadistic bastard who’d kept him locked up. Chained and collared from the age of six, he’d feared everything and everyone. But she’d treated him with kindness, convinced him she cared for him—loved him.
He would have done anything for her, afraid she would cast him aside, back to that hellish existence. But it hadn’t taken long to realize it was all a sick game for her, that he was just a valuable commodity. She used him countless times to gain information and power. Yes, she hated to share him, but to beings who hated angels with fierceness verging on insanity Zenon had been a plaything to extract that hatred upon. He’d fetched a high price for his mistress.
More if they wanted to damage him, taking him out of commission for several days while he recovered.
And that was the reason Silas hovered the fuck around him like a bad smell. Guilt over Zenon’s treatment, which made no sense, not when the angel had had no clue of his existence until he’d stepped through the portal all those years ago.
The bed was covered in red silk but felt like a million razor blades cutting into his oversensitized flesh when he lay down. She let her robe slither to the floor and moved up beside him. He locked his eyes on the ceiling, and she trailed long red fingernails down his chest, hard enough to break the skin, hard enough that blood bubbled to the surface. The scent of her arousal increased at the sight of his blood and she gripped his erection and squeezed, pumped his flesh several times, knowing how much he hated that she could force a physical reaction from him.
“You really are a magnificent specimen. As soon as I saw you, even as a filthy little runt, I’d known the kind of male you’d become.” She trailed her fingers across his cheek. “That fucking angel will pay for messing with your face. He did it to piss me off, trying to stake some claim over you. But you will always be my pet, won’t you, drudge?”
After all this time, she still hadn’t worked out the brand on his face had nothing to do with her. If she knew what it was, what it did, she’d lose her shit.
Her goal was to return to Hell, overthrow Diemos, and sit her skinny ass on his throne. It hadn’t worked the last time, and because of her failed attempt she’d been forced to flee. Of course she’d dragged him along with her.
Her favorite bartering tool.
Straddling his thighs, she bent down, caught a flat nipple between her pointed razor-sharp teeth, and bit down. He refused to flinch. She took him inside her body, that part of her drenched, surrounded him, and slid over his hard flesh. She rode him hard, gouging his skin with her teeth and nails until the room filled with the smell of her musky arousal and the tangy metallic scent of his blood.
Fuck, he hated her. Hated her to the core of his being.
“Look at me,” she hissed.
When he complied, she sent a tiny wave of what he needed through the hand on his chest, enough to stop him dying but not enough to stop the pain gripping his body or return him to full strength. Yeah, she’d make him pay over the next couple of days for his absence.
The creature riding him, using him, felt nothing for him and enjoyed dishing out her punishments, and though he knew he would pay for it, he let all the hatred he felt for her show on his face. She hissed then slapped him using all her considerable strength.
His lip split and warmth trickled across his cheek. The sight of more of his blood only increased her excitement, and she came hard, her muscles squeezing around his dick like a vise.
But he didn’t come, refused to give her that. It wasn’t hard to deny her. All he had to do was look at the bitch. She hated that more than anything else. But in the end, that was all he had left, all he was capable of holding back from her, the only thing he had that was his. She continued to ride him hard, bringing herself to orgasm three more times before she collapsed on top of him.
When she lifted her head, hatred burned bright. “Why do you persist in holding back from me? You know how much that angers me.” When he didn’t reply and kept his gaze on the ceiling, she climbed off and yanked on her robe.
Mia drifted back into his thoughts then, and it took everything he had to hold back the sob building to the size of a motherfucking boulder in the back of his throat.
“Get on the fucking rack,” she screamed.
Zenon pushed that beautiful female back out of his head because, yeah, this nightmare was too ugly for someone as pure and good as her. And in that moment, any hopes he’d secretly harbored that one day things might be different, that one day he could go to her, dissolved.
He would never be free.
Dragging his body off the bed, he stumbled to the steel frame on the other side of the room and got into position for his mistress.
His punishment had only just begun.
Chapter 8
James stood at Mia’s back as they ran through her relaxation and control techniques. They’d tried several different ways to unlock her power, but the result was always the same: her doubled over, gasping and crying out in pain. In her current state, she was no better than a walking, talking cigarette lighter.
“It’s all right, Mia. You’ll get this.”
His tone was gentle, kind. He hadn’t tried to kiss her again, and as pleased as she was about that fact, she was equally disappointed that she didn’t feel anything for James. A kind, good-natured male was exactly what she needed. Why wasn’t it James she couldn’t get out of her head? Someone uncomplicated. Well, as uncomplicated as a half human, half demon could be.
“Thanks, James. You’ve been great. Really.”
“We’ll get there. I know how much you want to join your sister.”
Tears clogged the back of her throat. God, he was so nice. “You’re a really great guy, you know that?”
He gave her a bewildered half smile. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just feeling a little lost, I guess.”
“How’s the new place?” He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“Beautiful…lonely.” The tears she’s tried to swallow overflowed and tracked down her cheeks.
James dragged her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “This is a bump in the road, nothing more.” He pulled back and wiped her tears away. “If you’re lonely, I’m here. No strings.” His mouth twisted up on one side and he let a small amount of heat slip past.
“I’m sorry…I can’t.”
He shook his head. “Look, I won’t lie. I’m attracted to you, Mia. But I can control myself when I have to.” He smiled, a full, wide smile that made her wish again that she had some control over her stupid emotions. “Seriously, though, I’m here if you need a friend.”
She couldn’t help but smile back. “I think I’ll need one of those.”
He gave her another squeeze. “Look, I wish I could stay and keep you company, but I have another session in ten minutes. You gonna be okay?”
No. “Absolutely.”
“Good girl.” He headed for the door. “I’ll see you in a couple of days. And if you need to talk before then, call me, yeah?”
She nodded, and once he was gone, gathered her bag and headed out as well. After pounding the pavement the day before, she’d finally found herself
a job waitressing at a bar not far from her apartment. For once something had gone right. This training thing sapped her energy levels, and she wanted to get home and relax for a few hours before her first night tonight.
As she headed down the hall toward the elevator, a loud grunt followed by the unmistakable sound of flesh smacking flesh carried out from the gym. Without thought, she pushed the door open and jerked to a stop.
In the center of the room, on the sparring mats, Gunner and Zenon went at each other. She’d never seen anything like it. Both males were huge, had rippling, straining muscles, and they weren’t pulling any of those powerful punches. No, it looked like they were trying to beat the crap out of each other.
Right then, Zenon turned sharply toward her, spotted her standing there, and Gunner was able to land a solid strike to his square jaw.
She cried out, unable to hold it in, and Gunner spun to face her as well. Zenon dragged the back of his hand across his now split lip, but kept his eyes locked on her. Both males were looking at her like she’d lost her mind.
It was Gunner who spoke first. “You okay?”
All she could manage was a nod. The fear she’d felt when Zenon had been struck was extreme and her heart hadn’t returned to its normal speed. Zenon looked magnificent, his beautiful inked body glistening with a fine coating of sweat, and his big chest heaving from exertion. So beautiful.
She hadn’t seen him since that first night at her new place, watching her from a distance. It felt too long to her, and she couldn’t drag her gaze away from his. Which was ridiculous and humiliating. He’d made his feelings for her more than clear.
But then he was in motion, closing the gap between them, a determined look on his face like the day he’d kissed her. A whirlpool of emotions rose as he ate up the floor with those long strides: excitement, fear, need, apprehension. They twisted and turned inside her, building until they had the power to knock her feet out from under her.
He didn’t stop until he was a foot in front of her, and she focused on his chest, suddenly afraid. She couldn’t handle any more rejection from this male, not now. He continued to heave in those deep breaths, and his big chest rose and fell in a way that was almost mesmerizing.
“Mia?”
The way he said her name, so rough, hit her low in her belly. She had no choice but to look up, and instantly felt trapped under the heat of his volcanic stare. Her heart skipped a beat then stuttered back to life, fluttering behind her ribs.
Gunner cleared his throat and Zenon snapped out of whatever had come over him. He broke eye contact first and took a step back.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, voice shaking. “I heard someone in here and thought, well, I don’t know what I thought…” She was unsure how to finish, couldn’t find the words to explain her compulsion to enter the gym moments ago.
He didn’t answer, just continued to watch her with those hard yellow eyes.
Gunner watched them closely, gaze bouncing back and forth between them. “Right, well, I’m gonna hit the showers. Catch you later, Mia.”
She watched Gunner walk away, and then it was just her and Zenon. When she turned back, she made herself look at him and noticed thin red lines—scratches—gouged into his broad shoulders and chest. “What happened to you?”
Alarm flashed in his eyes, but then he clenched his jaw and something else replaced it. Something that made her sick to her stomach.
A woman.
Oh God.
He’d gotten the marks from a woman. He’d been with someone. And though she tried to hide it, she knew the conclusion she’d come to and exactly how that made her feel was plastered all over her face. She didn’t want to care, and was again surprised at the pain the idea caused her.
He got in close, didn’t touch her, but got in her space. His mouth went to her ear. “You don’t want the truth,” he said. “Go back to your apartment.” He stepped back, turned, and headed toward a door on the other side of the gym.
Hurting her seemed to give him some kind of sadistic pleasure, and she felt anger flare past the pain. “God, you are such an asshole. I can’t believe I ever felt sorry for you,” she yelled after him.
He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face her. His lips were twisted into a sneer and his eyes flashed. “I don’t want your fucking pity, female.”
Oh God.
She knew only a little about Zenon’s past, but she knew what she’d said was the worst thing she could have to such a proud and wounded male. “I didn’t mean that. I just meant—”
“I know what you meant.” He shoved through the door and disappeared.
Oh fuck.
Oh shit.
He never wanted Mia to see him like that. See the marks on his body, the remnants of his degradation, his humiliation. It was bad enough his brothers saw the marks. He’d refused to offer up an explanation when they first saw them and now they never asked. They thought he was into some kinky shit. Rocco had implied as much.
But it was his shame that covered his body, and now Mia had seen it, too. Going down hard on the bench seat behind him, he dropped his head in his hands and scrubbed his palms across his face. “Fuck.”
His skin itched with the need to go after her, to tell her…what? That it wasn’t what it looked like? That she was supposed to be his? That they were made for each other?
God how he wanted her, and even though he couldn’t be with her, his body screamed out for her. If he didn’t do something to get her out of his system, he’d go insane.
The door slammed open, and Zenon shot to his feet. Mia stormed in after him, looking pissed and beautiful. So damn beautiful. She pointed at him. Fucking pointed. “You don’t get to walk away this time. Do you hear me?”
Jesus. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off.
“You don’t want me? Whatever. But don’t you dare tell me I couldn’t handle whatever you can dish out. You don’t know shit about me. I have no idea why, but for some screwed-up reason I care about you.” She shrugged. “You don’t return those feelings, and I won’t lie, it hurts. So do me a favor. Next time you see me, turn and go the other way.”
She cared?
As she spun and headed for the door, he got a shot of her scent, but it was mingled with something else, someone else. Something snapped inside him and he could sooner stop a freight train than he could his own feet from moving after her.
Mine. The thought screamed through his mind, and he grabbed her arm, spinning her to face him.
The anger drained from her face. “Zenon?”
“You let James touch you again.”
“What?”
“James had his hands on you. I can smell him all over you.”
She frowned. “He was comforting me.”
Was she afraid? He couldn’t tell. He felt too hot, restless. He craved Mia like a dying man in the desert craved water. His mind was fuzzy, and all he knew right then was Mia should be his, was his, and if he didn’t taste her right then he would fucking die. He reached around her and threw the lock.
Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
“No one touches you,” he growled then covered her mouth, crushing it under his in a bruising kiss that shot fire through his body. She gripped his biceps but didn’t push him away. No, she groaned into his mouth. So sweet, no resistance. But it wasn’t enough.
How would he ever get enough?
Lifting her off the ground, he spun and planted her ass on the bench. “Lie back.” His voice sounded wrecked, but he couldn’t soften his tone, his need to taste her too strong.
To his surprise and fucking delight, she did as he asked. No questions. She wanted him. The reality of that sent him into a tailspin. He didn’t deserve her, was tainted and marked by the kind of shame he could never wash off, but he was past turning back at this point. He kneeled on the floor at the foot of the bench, gripped her rounded hips, and dragged her closer.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and the smell of her arou
sal was heady, sweet. Helena’s scent turned his stomach. Mia’s turned him fucking feral.
He undid her jeans and she held his gaze as he slid them down her shapely thighs, taking her underwear with them. Her body was beautiful, round, soft. Not like his mistress’s.
At the sight of her delicate, glistening flesh, Zenon lost his grip on what limited control he’d managed to cling to.
He looked up and held her bright gaze. “Can I…can I taste you?” If her answer was no, he didn’t know what he’d do.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Spreading her open, he drank in the sight of her. Her soft gasp brought his gaze back to hers. Her face was flushed, her lips slightly parted. “I’m going to taste you now, Mia.”
She bit her lip and nodded then watched as he lowered his mouth. He couldn’t believe this was happening, that she would allow him to do this, to give her this.
When the heat of his mouth touched her tender flesh, she cried out. He growled with satisfaction, and his demon was right there with him. The dark side of him was just as happy about what was happening and caused his growls to sound rougher, then—God—turn into a purr of happiness, of joy.
He drank her in, drew his tongue through her center, and a shudder of pure pleasure shot through his veins, lit up his nerve endings.
Oh God.
He lapped at her, moaned at the exquisiteness that was Mia. She was heaven. Perfection.
So good.
He feasted on her, couldn’t stop, couldn’t get enough.
This, with Mia, felt so different than any other time he’d pleasured a female this way. But then he’d never done this to a female he’d chosen to be with. It had always been at the command of his mistress. At least in this, he knew he could please her, that he was skilled enough to make her feel good.
Mia cried out and jerked beneath his mouth. He gripped her thighs and pinned her down, loving the way she tasted as she came against his tongue. Then he did it again and again until she trembled uncontrollably and begged him to stop. And when he’d wrung one more shudder from her body, he sat back.
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