Demon Branded (Demons of Florida) (4 page)

He’d freed her. His mistake.

She launched from the bed.

Whipping her arm around, she jammed her hand flat against his nose. A crunch filled the room. He roared in pain and slung his arm out.

She rolled away from his strike and came to her feet on the opposite side of the room to find him crouched on the bed, blood and hissing steam streaming from his broken nose. He growled—resonating so low the room shook. “Come. Here.”

“Don’t think so.” Refusing to show fear, throttling the urge to answer his summons, she took her time, keeping him in view in case he made a move toward her. She threw her hair over her shoulder and glanced about. The only clothes were his. She reached for his jacket.

“Come.
Here
.” The command rippled over her skin and her body halted, aching to do as he bid.

Her back went stiff. “What in the hell is wrong with me?”

She didn’t take orders from anyone. Ever.

He put his hands out to his side, palms out. “I set you free. I only want you to listen. I’m sure we will be in accord.”

“You kidnapped me!” She spun about and stomped toward him, stopping before she got within his reach. He still knelt on that damned decadent red silken bed like he was some … incubus. “You branded me without permission. Nothing you say will save your ass as soon as I get my hands on a sword to separate that pretty head from that fucking amazing body.”

She snapped her mouth shut. Her brain had short-circuited and her mouth babbled any fucking thing it wanted.

He chuckled. The sultry, sex-incarnate sound wove around her and her nipples tightened painfully.

“Why don’t you give me five minutes, then we can talk about your fucking amazing body.” He stared at her tightened nipples and heat blazed so fast and hard, she shuddered. But the ache didn’t rule her. She owed this man nothing.

“I think not.” She leapt.

She sailed into his side and raked her nails down his back. Instinct compelling her to rip his head off, her mouth latched onto his neck. A demon. She never talked to them. She ripped and rendered. But her she-wolf deserted her. The beast didn’t rage for blood and death. The wolf didn’t come forward from beneath her skin.

Kill
, she urged her internal beast.

Heated blood entered her mouth. Arms wrapped around her in a steely embrace. He didn’t fight her. They landed on the bed with her on top, his hard body beneath her, and her legs straddling his hips. That long, hard dick was right there, hot against her slick pussy. Nothing to stop her from sliding up a bit and taking him in.

She groaned.

They froze. The air grew dense and heavy. Their panting breaths filled the room.

“You mated me?’ Her words were garbled. Blood flowed from the bite and she kept her stare there, on the hissing of that wound. That demon wound. Humans and wolves didn’t sizzle with steam.

“I did,” he whispered.

The desire rose to a stranglehold. It’d never been this intense, like if she didn’t mount this cock between her legs, she’d go insane. She whimpered and her body shook, but she couldn’t have gotten off him if a mangy group of hellions crashed into the room right this instant. Deep in the back of her mind, she screamed and railed. This wasn’t natural. He’d done something to her.

But her body didn’t care. She wasn’t leaving until she got what she needed. She slid up his cock, canted her hips, and slowly sank down, taking him in, inch by freaking-thick-as-glorious-hell inch.

“Oh, my god,” he breathed. His eyes went wide with a wonder that nearly gave her pause, but hell, they both wanted to fuck and she was more than willing to take advantage. Then he slammed his eyes shut with a blissful moan.

His features filled with pleasure. He was completely undone beneath her, unmoving, accepting and unguarded. Power surged through her. She’d done this. Conquered him, made him helpless. She ground her hips down but didn’t ride him. Not yet.

Slowly, she leaned forward and let her aching breasts brush against his chest. His eyes snapped open and she couldn’t handle the desire there. It ripped at her and made her want to melt. She demanded quickly, before she lost herself, “Shut your eyes.”

He kept that sleepy gaze of his—the one that looked like he’d lived in a bordello giving and getting sex non-stop for centuries, and for all she knew, that was true—until he gave a crooked smile and closed his eyes. “Do as you will.”

“I always do.” She ground her teeth. He tried to take the power from her in that one statement. As if he gave permission for her to be on top. Not that she’d been the one to put him beneath her. “And shut up. Don’t talk.”

His nostrils flared and his cock flexed inside her but otherwise, he stayed put, even lessening the strong hold he had on her hips. The loose brush of his palms still heated her skin there, but he didn’t clutch her as if he wouldn’t let her go.

Satisfied, she let her weight rest on his chest, her full and aching breasts smashed against him, and unable to stop the instinct screaming inside her, she set her mouth to the tear in his skin and licked his neck. Her hips rocked, and the delicious pressure rubbed deep inside her. She was slick and eager. But his blood in her mouth made her dizzy.

She didn’t revel in blood. She killed—often in a gory manner, but it was incidental to the mission she set herself. She’d become inured to it.

Tiago Montevedo’s taste made her heart ache. It wasn’t unpleasant. She was compelled to lick it away. She couldn’t keep her tongue from lapping it up—both craving the task while never wanting to see his blood again. Sexual hunger battled over-protective instincts.

Salty skin met her mouth and she suckled. He’d healed.

“Mmm. You taste good,” she murmured against his wet steaming skin. Her hips rocked up and down with a hard thrust and Tiago moaned beneath her. She kept her nose buried in his neck. His thumbs rubbed over her hip bones, angling down in a V toward her pussy. His body went hot, molten. If she were human, he’d burn her to the touch, but she could handle it. Sweat and humid fog surrounded them.

Unheeding of her command to keep his gorgeous mouth shut, he spoke a stream of words—demonic and full of hedonistic lust. She sat up, seating his cock deep inside her and stretched back. His glittering eyes searched her face as his hips surged and one hand stroked languidly up her side.

“Your taste, your scent. You smell like mine.” He cupped her breast and pinched her nipple firmly.

All thought scrambled. The outrage winked out when his thumb found her clit and circled.

“I’m yours as long as you keep doing that,” she panted. Her hips found the rhythm to take her over. His massaging of her breasts, pressing her clit, pushed her to the edge. Heat soaked her. The sounds of her breathing, the slap of skin, the grunts. Animalistic. Perfect.

A rush expanded out from her core in a scorching tingle. The cock inside her swelled even harder, thicker. A guttural sound came from Tiago as his hips thrust into her with harsh jerks. The contorted expression of agony on his face pulled her to an edge of exquisite sensitivity. Every touch, every smell, every sound was intense. She bowed back. Shudders of bliss ripped through her.

Everything went quiet and bright. In a solid haze of pleasure she hung there, arched, and lingering in a cloud of sweet release. Hands gripped her hard as a surge rocked her, sending her climax higher. Heated warmth filled her core.

With a muffled cry, she fell forward and landed on a hard chest.

Arms came around her and closed, holding her tight. A rumble caressed her, soothing the beast that had reveled in the shared bliss. Her she-wolf curled up inside and content, rested. Soothing backstrokes lulled her and she drifted.

It couldn’t have been longer than a few seconds, but she snapped out of the sex fugue and jerked back. She didn’t get anywhere. The arms around her were like steel. Stronger than steel.

“Where are you going?” The gruff question brought it all back.

The cock still inside her pussy flexed and her eyes opened wide.

“Are you still coming?” She spoke into his naked chest and couldn’t resist the urge to nip him. He shivered and she slammed her eyes shut against the rebuke she should be giving herself for being playful with her kidnapper. “Why am I snuggling with the man who took me against my will?”

“Oh, my lady.
You
took
me
. So very well, at that.”

She shoved hard against his chest and he let her go. She wouldn’t have been able to break his hold if he hadn’t let her. Sliding off him, she closed her eyes at the residual pleasure. He hissed as if pained.

“You fuck all the women you steal?” she snapped.

He sat up and she refused to look at his tanned and toned body. Scrambling away from the bed, she also wiped her mind clean of the image of his wet cock, still erect. Steam rose everywhere, filling the room. She nearly tripped and glanced down. Her feet tangled in his clothes where she’d dropped them earlier. She grabbed his suit jacket and shrugged into it.

“You look good in my clothes.”

She flipped him off, strode to the door, shoved the chair aside, and kicked down the door. Striding out, she didn’t turn, didn’t even think of answering.

“You’ll be back.” He sounded so sure of himself that she flipped him off again. “The brand will bring you back to me.”

Growling through clenched teeth, she stalked toward the woods next to the motel, her body barely covered in his jacket, her thighs wet from come. Before she could get away, he called out, “And that’s one gorgeous ass.”

Despite herself, her lip curled at the crudity that seemed at odds with what she’d learned about Tiago already. But she didn’t turn to puzzle out the strangely cultured demon. She didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

Chapter Three

She had to walk for miles in the forest. Her wolf kept whining to go back to mate. Ona ignored the beast, putting as much distance as possible between her and the demon. She stopped for a moment, nauseous and fell to her knees while her head spun. Gripping her stomach, she breathed deeply to calm herself.

How could she have fucked a demon? He’d said something about an aphrodisiac. That had to be it. That had to be why it’d been the best sex of her life. Her mind cleared enough for her to climb to her feet and start walking again.

After a few hours, the traitorous she-wolf finally conceded. The wolf wanted to go home and wouldn’t go running back to the man she considered
mate
.

Ona shifted, left the suit jacket behind and racing towards home, stretched full out with a howl.

Home. She hadn’t visited in some time. It was best that way, not to leave a scent that could take the Orions straight to her brother and his new family. His mate, Allie, had come home and blessed their pack with two adorable children.

By the next morning, her legs burned but she’d crossed as many streams, highways, and anything else she could to clear her path. On sore paws, she trudged into the PACk’s mountain commune tucked into the Appalachians away from hellions, demons, and humans alike.

A few PACk-mates stirred this early but she didn’t stop to greet anyone. She went straight for Brock’s log cabin on the outer edge of the small werewolf town. She nudged through the front door made to swing on its hinges and onto the closed-in front porch, perfect for a species that might come home from the hunt in wolf form and shift before entering the house. It got cold up here.

She shifted, barreled into the unlocked front door—she’d need to talk to him about that—and grabbed one of the cloaks hanging in the entry.

“Come in, sister.”

“How the hell did you know it was me?” she groused as she padded toward the kitchen and the scent of coffee.

“You reek of gasoline,” he paused and she heard the slam of the cabinets. “And sex. Dammit. I don’t want to know that about my kid sister.”

“We’re wolves, Brock.” That explained everything. Wolves liked to mate. Loved it. The man wouldn’t begrudge any other wolf, but he liked to be a prude about his siblings.

She entered the wide kitchen with the large breakfast bar and slowed to find the entire family congregated there. Brown-haired Vince grinned at her before he tucked back into a bowl of cereal. He had to be nearly twelve. A tow-headed Misty—not quite ten—stared wide-eyed, like she was hearing secrets, and glanced back and forth between Brock and Ona.

Allie broke eggs into a bowl and nodded at her. “Hello, Ona. What’s it been? Two years?”

“Maybe so.” Ona pulled out a stool and took a seat then did a double-take. “Expecting another one, dear sister-in-law?”

“Yes we are.” Brock answered and she could swear his chest puffed out like he’d made the world. She supposed, to him, he had. He shoved a cup of black coffee across the table and into her hand. “I had a visitor a few weeks ago. Someone who’s become a friend.”

She raised a brow. Her brother knew exactly who he’d scented on her.

“I believe I know of this friend,” she spoke carefully. Both in respect to her niece and nephew hanging on each word, but also in carefully stepping around what suddenly became clear to her. Brock may be her brother, but he was also her PACk leader. And he’d clearly been making plans.