Bittersweet Darkness (29 page)

Then she would get away from this place.

“Faith?”

…

Something was wrong.

She was like a statue in his arms. He could feel her withdrawing from him and he didn’t understand why. He knew she cared for him; her emotions had been so easy to read while they’d made love.

Now, she placed her palms on his chest and pushed herself away. Her lips were swollen from his kisses and he had the urge to kiss her some more. Stop her saying the words she was obviously girding herself to speak. She dragged her lower lip between her teeth and bit down so hard that a bead of blood pearled on her lip. Slipping out of his grasp, she got down from the bed. His robe lay where she had dropped it, and she picked it up but didn’t put it on, just clutched the silk to her as though the flimsy barrier could protect her from him.

She collected herself together and stared him in the eyes. “You’re a demon,” she said. “I could never love a demon.”

He searched her face, trying to see behind the words. “Why?”

Her eyes widened at his question, but it was perfectly reasonable.

“All my life I’ve wanted to be on the side of the good guys. It’s why I joined the force. I wanted to fight against evil. I didn’t believe in the monsters back then, but if I had, I would have wanted to fight them as well.”

Darkness swirled in his mind. “So you think me evil?” he purred the words and saw her start in shock. “One of the monsters?”

She glanced away, but when she looked back, resolve hardened in her eyes. “Aren’t you?”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rose to his feet. She was tall for a woman but even in his human form, he towered over her. “What do you think?” he asked. “After all, I think we’ve gotten to know each other well in the last few days and certainly in the last hour.” He cast a glance at the bed behind him.

Anger flared in her eyes. “But we didn’t know each other, did we? I didn’t know you were a demon until you had no choice but to show your true self. Would you ever have told me otherwise?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He’d told her he cared. For the first time since Lily had died, he had allowed himself to care for someone, and she had thrown it back in his face.

“You knew what I was when I took you to my bed. So it’s okay to fuck the monsters but not to share your life with them?”

There was that pain again, shadowing her eyes, but banished quickly.

She shrugged. “I fancied you. It had been a long time and—”

“Fancied?” he interrupted, his tone incredulous. Rage built inside him and he fought for control. Part of him wanted to hurt her, but something at the back of his mind told him he would bitterly regret it if he harmed her physically however much his rage might drive him now.

That would make him the monster she believed him to be. And that wasn’t who he was—not anymore. He’d lived a long time, done some dark, dark deeds, but he’d changed. Maybe his almost friendship with Roz had started that change, but his love for Lily had solidified it. Transformed him beyond anything he could have imagined. Oh, the darkness still lived inside him, would always be there, a part of what he was, but he now knew he no longer had to give in to that craving. That he had a choice.

Could she not see how far he had come from what he had been? What he could be even now?

Obviously not, and the need to hurt her in return tore at his insides, demanded that she feel the same.

He stepped closer. “And do you still
fancy
me?” he said silkily.

She shook her head but not before he saw the flare of desire in her eyes. She wanted him. And she could have him. The blood rushed to his groin. Maybe sex was the only way to reach her. She was raising walls against him and he needed to smash them down.

She thought him a monster. He’d show her a little of the monster inside him.

Her gaze shifted down his body and her eyes widened as she took in his erection. He released a little of his control and the wings sprouted from his back. He flexed them so the tips brushed the walls on either side of the room.

“I don’t think—”

“You don’t need to think,” he murmured.

She blinked, swallowed. “I’m going to clean up and get dressed.” She turned and headed for the bathroom. He allowed her to take two steps and he moved fast coming up behind her, pressing her into the smooth wood of the door, pushing up against her so the satin skin of her back touched him from chest to groin.

He nudged his shaft against the curve of her ass.

“Oh.”

He brushed her hair away from her throat, lowered his head to the curve of her neck, and bit down gently.

“Ash, please…”

“I plan to,” he whispered in her ear. He didn’t know whether she meant please release her or please don’t stop. He knew if she asked he would let her go—even in his worst days he’d never raped a woman. But she didn’t resist him.

Her hands were still in front of her clasping the robe and he reached around, plucked it from her fingers, and dropped it to the floor. He circled each of her wrists with his fingers, dragged her arms up, and placed her palms flat on the wall above her head.

“Did you know, in some circles, I’m known as the demon of lust?”

She didn’t answer but her body tightened against him.

“And some say that once you’ve had me, no normal man will ever fulfill you.”

“Talk about delusions of grandeur,” she muttered.

“You think?”

He trailed his fingers down her arms, stroking the silky hollows, then around to her caress the sides of her breasts. She leaned back away from the door so he could slip his hands around her to cup them. His thumb rasped over her nipples, and she moaned low in her throat. He knew then that she wasn’t going to say no. She might not want
him
for anything else, but he would make sure she never wanted any other man for this.

He massaged her small breasts, while his other hand slid down over her stomach, into the silky curls at the base. At the same time, he pushed one leg between her thighs, widening her stance.

He rubbed his shaft up and down the cleft of her ass until she was shoving back against him. His cock craved the feel of her around him and he bent his knees, probed between her thighs and pushed inside her. She was so wet, he slid in easily, and her muscles tightened around him. It felt so good, and the pain and the anger inside him mingled with the pleasure.

She sagged, her hands on the wall stopping her from falling. Wrapping one hand around her waist, he dragged her forward so her ass pointed toward him, and then he withdrew and sank into her again. He kept his movements slow as he slid one hand between her thighs.

She was moaning now, her ass pushing against him, his body curved around her. He grazed his fingers lightly between the folds of her sex, found her swollen nub, and pinched between his finger and thumb. She let out a small scream and he soothed her with light, teasing circles not quite touching where she needed him most. He pinched a second time and she almost came. He went still, and she rubbed against him seeking relief. Only when her breathing slowed did he move again.

He drew out the pleasure until she was sobbing with need in his arms. Part of him wanted to leave her this way. Unsatisfied, craving his touch, needing to come back for more, even if she hated him.

“Please, Ash.”

“Seems as you beg so sweetly.”

He massaged her clit, this time continuing as she teetered on the edge. The quakes of her orgasm shook through her body, and she threw back her head and screamed. Still he played with her, until the screams died to whimpers, then he thrust into her one last time and spilled himself.

But it was an empty victory.

He pulled himself free of her and stepped back. Without his support. Faith collapsed to her knees and knelt, head bent, her hair draping over her face.

“Get dressed,” he said. “We have a meeting to go to.”

Chapter Twenty-three

Faith stared at herself in the mirror. She was a total mess, like she’d just had her brain screwed out. Teeth marks patterned her shoulder, covering the faint scar from the bullet wound. Her heart ached, and she was sore between her thighs—she’d be walking funny for the next few days.

But she’d never dreamed her body could feel like that. Respond like that. She craved him again even now.

That had not gone to plan. She’d hope to save him pain.

It seemed she had miscalculated the depth of his feelings, but she’d panicked. And she’d hurt him. He’d hit back at her in the one way he could because he knew she wanted him. And he was right; she was incapable of refusing him. If he kissed her, she’d melt in his arms.

It was inconceivable—she wasn’t the swooning type.

She’d always thought nice men in suits were her thing. No wonder she’d never been in love before. Then along comes the demon of goddamn lust and she’d fallen like a teenager for the high school hero.

Maybe Christian could do that mind thing on her and she could forget all about Ash for the rest of her short, miserable life.

Everything inside her screamed
no
to that idea.

Though maybe she wouldn’t have a choice. Because they’d said if she didn’t work with them, that was the only alternative. And right now, she did not want to work for them. She wanted to get as far away as possible.

She reeked of sex. If she was going to a meeting, she was showering first. Afterward, she had to put his robe back on. She’d left the clothes Shera had sent in the other room, and she was not putting her old things back on for a third time.

Inching open the bathroom door, she peeked outside. The room appeared empty. She tiptoed across the floor and picked up the bundle of clothes from the chair by the bed.

It turned out to be a dress. Faith couldn’t remember the last time she had worn a dress. Probably before her mother died, though even then she’d always been a tomboy. And never a dress like this. Full-length black silk that slid through her fingers, with gold embroidery around the neck and wrists.

She so did not want to put it on. But there was nothing else and she slipped out of the robe and quickly tugged the dress over her head, shivering as the material grazed her skin. The dress fit perfectly, though the front was way too low, revealing the tops of her breasts almost to the nipple and no doubt giving flashes of teeth marks. Though that was hardly likely to be cause for comment around here.

The external door opened and she jumped and whirled around. Ash stood in the doorway and she had to bite back the pain that threatened to envelope her. She wanted to run to him, except she doubted her shaky legs would carry her.

He made no attempt to hide what he was from her now. He was in what she guessed was his full demon mode. Tall, the black wings furled at his back. He wore tight black pants tucked into long black leather boots, a black shirt with the silver scabbard crossing it diagonally and the tip of his sword showing above his left shoulder. He was totally bad-ass scary, but for some reason he didn’t scare her. If he’d been going to hurt her physically, he would have done so by now. She got the distinct impression that he’d seriously considered the idea.

Maybe he was a monster, but he was one who had total control over his instincts. His expression was impassive, and she tried for the same but was pretty sure she failed. There was no way she could put this right now—what could she say:
I only said you were a monster because I’m dying and I didn’t want to upset you?

No, she would have to see this through.

His eyes dipped down to take in the dress and heat flashed in his gaze. He desired her. Her nipples tightened and no doubt pressed against the thin silk of the dress—she resisted looking down. Sighing, she gave a mental shrug. He was totally aware of the affect he had on her; there wasn’t much point in trying to hide.

But he didn’t say anything, just held out a hand.

“Come.”

She eyes him suspiciously. “Come where?”

“We have a meeting, remember?”

Shit yeah, between coming out of the bathroom and seeing Ash, she’d forgotten everything except the feel of his big body inside her, his hands on her…

As she took a hesitant few steps, the silk swished against her thighs and rubbed over her nipples. Ash gave a frown of impatience. Pausing, she scowled. She was getting fed up with the attitude. So she might have misjudged, but after all, she had only said the monster thing for his benefit. Even if he wasn’t aware of that.

A little headache nagged at the back of her skull. The doctor had said to take it easy—no stress and no excessive physical activity. She glanced at the bed. Had that been excessive? No—actually not nearly enough.

“Today would be good.” Ash interrupted her thoughts.

“I never thought you were a sarcastic bastard.”

He gave a tight smile. “But as you pointed out, there are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

She sighed and took the last steps. Taking a deep breath, she slid her hand into his. As soon as he had hold of her, he dragged her against him and picked her up in his arms. He held her against his chest, but in a standoffish sort of way, and she didn’t feel comfortable enough to lay her head against his chest.

“I can walk, you know.”

“But you can’t fly.”

He strode out of the room, straight through the double doors and onto the balcony that ran around the tower. Without giving her a moment to say,
I think I’d rather take the stairs,
he spread his great black wings and launched himself off the edge of the tower.

And she was flying. Again.

This time, the journey took seconds. Ash landed lightly in front of yet another set of double doors. He put her down without a word, pushed open the doors, and disappeared inside. She stared after him for a moment, then down at the dress. Ryan was going to piss himself laughing.

Oh well.

The doors led into what she presumed was a Hellish equivalent of a meeting room. They were in a round room at the base of the tower.

A circle of chairs faced into the middle of the room. All the same, except one—much bigger than the others. Ash headed straight for it but paused by Tara. He pulled the talisman from around his neck and handed it to her. He murmured some low words and she smiled up at him. It seemed like things were warming up between the two of them. Faith was glad. He continued across the room and sat down, long booted legs stretched out in front of him. The chair must have been built for him to accommodate his size and the wings, which folded neatly behind him.