Ecstasy Unveiled

Six

The bloodcurdling snarl reached Idess’s ears before she’d fully materialized in her living room. Exhausted but fueled by fear, she sprinted to the bedroom, skidding to a shocked halt at the doorway. Lore was alone. No one was trying to kill him.

But… he’d transformed. His eyes, burning like coal embers, bored into her, and his skin had darkened to a deep, dusky red shot through with dark veins on top of bulging muscle. He bared his teeth, as if he wanted to take a bite out of her. He was beautiful and terrifying, and a tremor ran through her as she stepped into the bedroom.

What in the world had happened to him? Whatever it was, it threatened his life. The heraldi on her arm still burned, hurting much more than the dagger wound. She’d heard that some species could become uncontrollably enraged to the point of permanence.

Or, apparently, death.

“Lore—”

His violent roar shook the house’s very foundation. Blood dripped from his wrists, which he’d worn raw beneath the shackles. The soles of his boots had shredded the bedspread and sheets, all the way to the mattress.

“What can I do?”

“Release. Me.” His words were distorted by rage and hatred.

Steeling herself, she said, “That’s not possible.”

A torrent of f-word-spiced curses ripped from his mouth. “Damn you and the bitch who whelped you!”

She inched toward him. “I can’t release you. What else can ease you?”

He went mad, his flailings so violent that a crack rang out as her bed frame broke. Red flecks danced in eyes that had gone fully black, swallowing the whites, the demon behind the handsome face coming through like some sort of transparent overlay.

She halted beside his hip, a huge mistake, because although his wrists were bound above his head, his legs were free, and he kicked out at her, catching her in the ribs and slamming her into the door to the bathroom.

Rubbing her aching chest, she went back to him, this time easing next to his shoulders and out of range of those huge, booted feet. Still, he whipped his knees back and nearly brained her. The boy was remarkably flexible.

He was hurting himself, and it was only going to get worse. “Tell me what will make this better.”

He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw popped. “Fuck.”

She really hated demons and their foul mouths. “Tell me,” she repeated.

“Fuck,” he snarled. “Sex.”

“Sex?” She laughed. “If you think I’m falling for that, you’re beyond stupid.”

Punching his head back with such force that he left a dent in the plaster, he let loose an agonized roar that rattled through her insides. A blast of heat rolled off him, a wave of need she felt as a loosening of her muscles and a sudden liquid rush between her legs. A dark, sinful scent wrapped around her, filling her lungs and making her sway toward him. She caught herself, took an awkward, stumbling step back. She’d been around long enough to know incubi could throw off pheromones to attract partners, but she’d never experienced it… until now.

Her gaze flickered involuntarily to his hips, where, sure enough, a massive erection was straining against the fly of his pants. No way. Nuh-uh. There had to be another way. Any way.

“Just… hold still.” She took another lungful of that delicious scent into her. “I’ll release you or something—”

“No!” His head snapped forward, and his eyes, glowing with an eerie luminosity, fastened on her. “I… can’t… control… myself.” Every word was delivered between clenched teeth. “Not safe… I’ll attack. Or worse.”

Idess let out a startled breath. He was worried about what he’d do to her, to others if he escaped in this condition. She hadn’t known all that many demons, but those she had known wouldn’t have cared. A thread of admiration crept up on her, and curse him, she had no business feeling anything for this male but hatred and disgust. She despised assassins, wasn’t overly fond of demons, and he’d caused her a lot of trouble.

Then again, he’d also saved her life.

Of course, he wouldn’t have had to save her life if he hadn’t been trying to kill Kynan in the first place.

His moment of clarity passed quickly, and suddenly he was a mass of violence again, throwing himself against the chains, testing their strength, and the bed cracked some more.

Guilt pricked at her; she was the cause of his misery. She might not like demons, but it wasn’t in her nature to cause suffering. Her mind worked frantically for a way to help him. First, she had to stop him from hurting himself worse. Hastily, she forced his legs down with a firm grip on his thighs.

He went into a renewed frenzy, trying to bite her, his arms jerking against the chains. His hips bucked, brushing that massive erection against her arm. The moment he made contact, he calmed a little. He did it again, this time with a controlled roll of his pelvis.

Interesting. All right, so maybe addressing his arousal was the only way to help him. She eyed the massive bulge in his pants. Oh, my. How long had it been since she’d touched a man intimately? The answer to that question was, too long. She’d lived the first nineteen years of her life believing she was human, and though she’d known sex for only the last two years of her human existence, she remembered exactly how good male flesh felt against hers.

Even after two thousand years of celibacy. And not one orgasm.

Be not tempted by the pleasures of the flesh, Idess. She’d heard that from Rami with annoying frequency whenever he caught her admiring men. It had been so easy for her brother to say, since he’d never had sex—he’d been celibate even during his human years. But she’d had a wild side as a human, and for centuries afterward, and he’d been ruthless in his quest to tame her.

It had taken her betrayal of him to finally bring her to heel.

She let out a long, slow breath. “Be not tempted by the pleasures of the flesh,” she whispered. Telling herself she had no choice and that it was no big deal, she palmed the thick length that pressed so hard against the leather that she could make out the shape of his shaft. The thick head. He shouted and stiffened, but at least he’d stopped thrashing. The whites had returned to his eyes, and now they were wild, wide, like those of a spooked horse. He was panting, but he remained motionless, as though waiting to see what she was going to do next.

He was remarkable. Even in his fury, he was gorgeous. Her body responded once again, warming and tingling, growing achy in that most primal of instincts.

Instincts that must be ignored. It was forbidden for Memitim to have sex with humans, so she could only imagine how much trouble she’d be in for having sex with a demon.

She frowned. Was this some sort of final test? Rami had faced something similar, just before his Ascension, when he’d fallen in love with a human woman he’d nursed back to health after finding her injured by an archer’s arrow. When, after a serious internal struggle, he’d resisted her invitation into her bed, he’d been offered his final reward.

What if this was Idess’s test? Not that she’d ever be in danger of falling in love with a demon, but this was a sex demon, a species known to be irresistible to all females. Had he been given to her in order to determine her ability to resist? That would explain why he’d suddenly become a Primori. Her Primori.

And if so, it was a poor test of her willpower. Like all Memitim, she’d taken a vow of chastity, and no male, human or demon, could make her break it after thousands of years.

Satisfied that she could handle this without losing herself to lust, she ran her hand down his shaft, letting her palm mold to the firm length of him. His lips parted on a soft gasp, and crazily enough, she wanted to touch them. With her fingers, her mouth…

Cursing her response but encouraged by his, she rubbed harder, and his gasp became a long, tortured moan.

She took her hand away.

Instantly, he arched his back, yanked his chains, and howled… a sound of unimaginable pain.

“Okay,” she said quickly, and palmed him again. Once more, he settled down, but his entire body trembled. “I’m sorry.”

Maybe she could use this. Just a little…

“Tell me,” she said, as she straddled his knees and plucked at the top button on his pants, “who hired you to kill Kynan?”

He shook his head, and she drew her hand away.

The sound of his teeth snapping together jarred the air. He shook so hard she was nearly dislodged from her seat.

“Bad idea,” she muttered, as she tore open the remaining buttons and released him. He was enormous, a thick column of deep, blushing brown that disappeared into the V of his fly. Only a very light dusting of dark hair trailed from beneath the hem of his shirt across his abdomen, which was marked with all manner of scars, to his groin.

Forbidden need washed over her, and at the same time, Lore pushed his hips upward, putting the blunt head of his penis in contact with her hand.

“Aren’t we impatient?” We was right, because this was as close as she could get to a male, and she wanted this nearly as much as he did. Using only the tips of her fingers, she stroked the velvety cap until Lore’s head fell back against the wall and his eyes closed with relief. “This feels good, doesn’t it?” It certainly felt good to her. Oh, she remembered this. Except she didn’t recall taking so much pleasure in touching a man.

“Mmm-hmm.”

She squeezed his shaft, marveling at the satiny skin that stretched over a thick rod of iron. She didn’t recall the men of her day being this big, either. “About Kynan…”

Baring his teeth, he shook his head. She drew her hand away once more.

He went crazy, and her heart clenched and that was enough testing him. Hastily, she gripped him again, the effect on him so dramatic she could hardly fathom how crucial sex must be to his very existence. The way he settled down so quickly, his expression reflecting both stark relief and misery… it was fascinating. For so long she’d avoided anything even remotely sensual or sexual, because while not bedding a man was simple enough, the vow of chastity also banned self-pleasure, and that hadn’t been so easy. And now, as if her body had come out of a deep freeze, it flared hot and went liquid, and she couldn’t wait to see Lore come, to watch pleasure take him in the most male of ecstasies.

“Good boy,” she murmured. Adjusting her position, she made room for her other hand so she could reach below his shaft to his balls. They lay heavily in her hand, and when she began to roll them gently, he cursed on a low, ragged breath.

She dragged her other hand up, from the thick base to the flared head. A crystal drop formed in the slit, and she swiped her thumb through it, spreading the silky moisture around the crown. Lore rocked his hips, his chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. His shaft pulsed and swelled, and she sensed he was close.

“Faster,” he said hoarsely. “Harder.”

She obeyed, pumping him the way he wanted her to, loving the friction building between her palm and his skin. She tore her gaze away from what her hand was doing so she could gauge every reaction.

And oh, what reactions he had. His eyes were open, hungry, and focused on her face. The tendons in his neck and the muscles in his arms stood out starkly as he strained against the chains, and she knew if he got free she’d be under him in a heartbeat.

Desire curled in her gut, and a heady sense of power shot right to her head with dizzying speed. She could change the intervals between his breaths by altering the speed of her strokes. She could make him moan by altering the tightness of her grip. And when she swiped her thumb against the area just under the head, his entire body arched.

Crazily, her body arched, too. Toward him. She was shockingly aroused by this, in a way she’d never been. Oh, she got antsy at times, but punishing exercise or dessert sprees never failed to rescue her from lust’s clutches. This time, she had a feeling no amount of push-ups or tiramisu would ease the ache that throbbed through her. Her pulse beat erratically through her veins, her nipples hardened into sensitive pearls that rasped against her bra with every uneven breath, and somehow she had slid right up to the edge of orgasm.

Would it go against her vow to come even without touching herself? If it was an accident?

An accidental orgasm. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, because her body was a pot about to boil over, and as much as she craved what she’d been denied for so long, she also couldn’t risk it.

Angry and hurting, she took it out on Lore, since really, this was his fault. She squeezed him harder, pumped him faster, drawing a pleasured hiss out of him. He watched her as though trying to figure out a way to get to her, but when she looked back down at the erotic sight of his plum-ripe head thrusting through the ring of her fingers, he became lost in the rhythm, throwing his head back once more.

“Don’t… stop.” His guttural voice was at once a command and a plea, and he came suddenly, his body bucking with such violence that she had to grip his hip to keep from being thrown. A raw curse erupted from deep inside his chest, and semen shot onto her hand and in thick ropes over his six-pack abs.

He was beautiful, so big, his muscles straining and his body hard. He’d feel good on top of her, his weight holding her down as he thrust into her. He’d be naked, sweaty, and they’d be skin on hot skin, their bodies joined and their tongues tangling.

Pressure reached critical at her core, and she realized she was grinding herself against his thigh even as she finished him off with her hand. Her gaze flew up to his face, and she drew a startled, horrified breath at the way he was focused on her, eyes drowsy but glowing with knowledge.

Clearing her throat, she released his penis, which was still semihard. “How often do you need sex?” she asked casually, though she felt anything but, especially with the way her skin tingled where his seed had splashed over her hand, filling her with the oddest urge to smooth it over sensitive, private places.

“Few times a day.” His voice was husky, a lovely postcoital growl.

More rattled than she cared to admit, she peeled herself off him to visit the bathroom and slap a bandage over the cut on her arm. By the time she finished, she felt almost normal again, though she could definitely use a cold shower and two gallons of spumoni ice cream.

She found a tube of antibiotic ointment in her medicine cabinet, wetted a washcloth, and returned to Lore. “If you don’t get sex, you go into rages?”

“Yes,” he grunted, as though embarrassed. “How did you manage to truss me up? And what do you plan to do to me?”

“I made you truss your own self up.” She sank down on the mattress beside him. “And I plan to keep you from killing Kynan.”

“You’re an angel, right? Like, Kynan’s guardian angel?”

“Something like that.” Gently, she wiped away the blood on his left arm, working her way from his thick shoulder to the cuff around his wrist. His skin was supple, smooth, the muscles beneath set with deep grooves between the mounds of steel. She lingered more than she should.

“So why not just kill me? Why hold me prisoner?”

Because I have to protect you, too, and your brothers seem ready to cut your heart out.

“Maybe I want to keep you chained to my bed as a sex slave before I kill you.” Stupid thing to say, because the possibilities started rolling through her head.

“If that were true,” he drawled, “you’d have fucked me instead of jerking me off.” His lopsided smile and mussed hair gave him a charming boyish appearance that was at odds with the crude words and the raw masculinity he threw off. “And I know you wanted to fuck me, but you didn’t. So the sex slave thing? Not buying it.”

“You are incredibly arrogant.”

“Am I wrong?” His tone said he knew damned good and well that he wasn’t wrong.

She ignored his question. “Tell me who hired you.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “We’re back to that again?”

“It’s kind of important.”

Lore shrugged, rattling the chains. “No one hired me. Kynan’s a tool. Isn’t that reason enough?”

“Even though you told Eidolon that Kynan was an assignment, I might believe you if I hadn’t found another one of my charges being slaughtered by a female assassin.”

Something flickered in his dark gaze. “Coincidence.”

“Really?” She gently wiped his shredded wrist beneath the cuff. It must have hurt, but he didn’t flinch. “Is it also coincidence that the assassin bore faded Seminus tattoos just like yours?”

This time, the change in his expression was an easy read: fear. He schooled it hastily, but still too late.

“Who is she?” Idess pressed. “And why have assassins been sent after my Primori?”

“No idea. What are Primori?”

“Primori are what I’m assigned to protect,” she said vaguely. “And you’re lying.”

“You think assassin masters share anything with their slave-assassins? We’re given a job to do and we don’t care why.”

“Lovely.”

He snorted. “You are judging me? Hello, I didn’t chain anyone to a bed to use as a sex slave. Not that I mind,” he added. “But I could sex you up a lot better if I were free.”

Impossible male. “Tell me about the female Seminus,” she ground out.

“There are no female Sems,” Lore said. “Male Sems use females of other species as hosts for their offspring, which are all born male.”

“Then she’s a mate.” Again, some unknown emotion brought color into his cheeks, and a disturbing thought made her gut twist. “Yours? Is she yours?”

He just stared. Now he decided to clam up. But his silence was answer enough.

Lore kept a curious eye on Idess, noting how suddenly ill she seemed after asking if Sin was his mate. No way was she jealous. Maybe the idea that she might have gotten intimate with a taken male disturbed her goodie-two-shoes self.

Funny.

But it wasn’t funny that she knew about Sin, and by the looks of it, their introduction hadn’t involved handshakes. Idess’s bottom lip was swollen and cut, there was a gash in her upper arm, and thick locks of hair had come free of her ponytail, giving her a Xena, Warrior Princess, look he shouldn’t appreciate. But did. Or would have, if he wasn’t worried about his sister.

He kept his voice level. Barely. “Where is the female?” She said nothing, and he snarled, sick of her game, whatever it was. “What did you do to her?”

Idess avoided eye contact, instead concentrating on smoothing ointment onto his wrist. He couldn’t wait until she got to his right arm. She’d be so dead. She might have managed to escape contact with his dermoire earlier, but he’d get her to touch it now.

“If you tell me what I want to know, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“Answer me!” he roared, and she recoiled.

“Don’t worry,” she snapped. “She got away. But she did kill one of my Primori.”

Good. Sounded like Sin had completed her mission. No slavery at the hands of the Neethul for her. But if he didn’t take care of Kynan, doing vile things for the Neethul would be the least of her concerns. “That’s too bad, Cookie.”

Idess ignored his sarcasm and moved to his other side. Anticipation swelled as she prepared to wipe down his right arm. He rolled his head toward her and tried not to admire the long, lush lashes framing her big toffee eyes. Eyes that had watched him with stark hunger as she stroked him. They’d gone half-mast, darkened, and she’d rolled her bottom lip between sexy white teeth as though she’d wanted to use her mouth instead of her hand.

He’d have been all right with that. More than all right. Hell, he was getting hard again just thinking about it. Idess leaned in. Maybe she’d kiss him. If she got into it the way she had when she’d jerked him off, he’d enjoy every second of it. At least, until she got carried away and came into contact with his arm.

Closer. Closer… in a moment she’d be dead and he’d… what? He’d be chained up with no way to get free.

“Stop!”

She froze, the cloth mere millimeters from his arm. “What?”

“My arm… it’s sensitive. Leave it alone.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake. For a big, bad demon assassin, you’re a baby.” Glaring at him, she dropped the washcloth, and he breathed a sigh of relief. And then, to his horror, she put her palm gently on his forearm.

“Idess!”

She gasped, her eyes going wide. Her fingers dug into his skin and she groaned… but oddly, she didn’t seem to be in pain. If anything, he’d say the expression on her face was as far from death as it could be.

Was she…? Nah. If she was coming, she’d be wild. And loud. Somehow he knew she’d be vocal in bed.

“Lore,” she moaned. Her touch grew lighter, her fingers barely resting on his arm—but she was touching him.

Stunned, he stared at her hand. Her warmth seeped into his dermoire and radiated up his arm, the exact opposite of what should have happened. Why hadn’t she keeled over? It didn’t escape his notice that he’d called her by her name in his panic, and for some reason, doing so felt strangely… intimate. Finally, she pulled away, her eyes focused on the way his markings writhed on his skin. “What… what just happened?”

“Ah… I don’t know. What did just happen?”

Tentatively, she touched him again. This time, the experimental swipe of her fingers seemed to have no effect. “I don’t understand. When I touched you before, it was…”

“Orgasmic?”

She speared him a look of annoyance. “Hardly. It was as if I took energy from you. Do you feel drained?”

Winking, he rocked his hips. “Oh, yeah.”

This time she just huffed. “I’m serious.”

“So was I.”

She muttered something about incubi that didn’t sound complimentary. “Maybe it has something to do with the Bracken Cuffs.”

Bracken Cuffs, the same demon jailer devices his brothers had used on him last month to negate his gift. He should have known. No wonder she hadn’t fried when she touched him.

“Is it okay to wash it now?” she asked.

His cock jerked. “It?”

“Your arm,” she ground out.

“Why do you care?”

She shrugged and reached for the wet cloth again. “I have to keep you from killing Kynan, but that doesn’t mean I want you to suffer.” She dabbed blood from his abraded wrists. “Does it hurt?”

Far from it. The swirling glyphs had always been sensitive; he hadn’t lied about that. But they were sensitive in a highly erotic way, and now that it was clear she wasn’t going to die from touching them, the nerve endings just beneath their surfaces sparked, each brush of her fingertips sending pleasant jolts straight to his groin. God, no female had ever touched his arm like that, and it shook him. Excited him. Threatened to drive him to heights he’d never known.

“No,” he rasped. “I’m good.”

“The glyphs are remarkable,” she said. “They seem to move.” She traced one with a fingernail, and he bit back a groan. “They’re not tattoos, are they?”

“They’re a history of our paternity.”

“Were you born with them?”

“Most Sems are.”

She rinsed the cloth and went back to wiping down his arm, even though it no longer seemed necessary, and a shiver stole through him. “But you weren’t? Does this have anything to do with your human breeding?”

“How do you know I’m from human stock?”

“I can smell the human in your blood.” She shifted on the bed.

He didn’t see any reason to keep his background a secret, and besides, maybe if he could get her talking, she’d reveal information he could use. Like why she was guarding Kynan. And if it was true that only angels could harm him. And how Lore could get around that minor detail. “My mother was human. Apparently, that makes things go a little screwy.”

“So when did you gain the symbols?”

“When I was twenty.” They’d come with a side order of pain, followed by a dessert of lust and rage. Oh, yeah… good times.

She used a square fingernail to trace the outline of the arrowhead symbol in the crook of his elbow. His erection throbbed as though it hadn’t just enjoyed the most intense orgasm of its life. “And how long ago was that?”

“If you want to know how old I am,” he said, “you can just ask.”

“Fine. How old are you?”

“I was born in 1880. You?”

Her grin transformed her face from beautiful to drop-dead gorgeous. “I’m considerably older than you are.”

“Yeah?” He waggled his brows. “I’ve always had a thing for older women.”

There was more muttering about incubi as she dropped the cloth into the laundry basket. “I was born the day Julius Caesar died. That’s very old.”

“So you really were born. And on the Ides of March,” he mused. “Is that what you’re named after?” When she nodded, he settled back and gave her a sleepy, seductive look. “It’s a pretty name. Pretty, like you.”

She snorted, totally calling him out. “I’m not going to fall for any of your tricks. Especially not when they’re so obvious.”

“Give me a break. I don’t have a lot of experience seducing women.”

“Yeah, right.” She frowned when he didn’t react. “You’re serious. How can you be an incubus and not have that kind of experience?”

He shrugged, unwilling to tell her about his death touch. “Guess there are anomalies in every species.”

“Seeing how you’re a sex demon who kills, I’d say that’s true.”

“There are incubi that use sex to kill. But it’s not like I want to kill anyone,” he added, and though it was true that he was playing up to her soft side, it was also just… true. He wasn’t a killer because he wanted to be.

No, you kill for money. That’s so much better.

“Good,” she said. “Then I need you to not kill Kynan.”

“Yeah, okay. I won’t.”

Her eyelashes swept down, creating shadows under her eyes, and she suddenly looked tired. “I know how assassin masters work, Lore. You can’t just ignore your orders.”

“Then why are you asking me to not kill Kynan if you know I have to?”

“I just want your word that you won’t kill him while I’m trying to find out who hired you, and why.”

“So you think that if you take out whoever hired me, the hit will be called off and Kynan will be safe?”

“Yes.”

It was a nice thought, but it wasn’t going to happen. The Assassins’ Guild had built its rep on its vow of discretion and silence, and no one learned the identity of any party who had hired an assassin. It had happened only once, several hundred years ago, when a client had been betrayed by an assassin master, and that master had been made an example of.

His wrecked body, preserved in wax, graced the entrance to the Guild Hall, his flesh peeled like a banana away from the bone. But the worst part was that somehow his soul had been trapped with the body, and his screams could be heard by every demon who entered.

But he wasn’t going to tell Idess that. Nope. He’d play along.

“You’ll need my help,” he said.

She swiped at her brow, which glistened with a fine sheen of sweat. “I can manage on my own.”

“Really? You know who my master is? You can contact him?”

Pink mottled Idess’s cheeks, because he had her there. “Will you tell me?”

“Will you let me go?”

She wobbled on her feet, and a lightning strike of panic zinged through him. “Cookie? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She lifted her chin and straightened her back in a show of strength, but a trickle of perspiration ran down her temple.

“You want my help? You tell me what the fuck is wrong. Right. Now.”

She hesitated, and he got that. Vulnerability was not easy, especially in front of an enemy. A whimper escaped her as she sagged, catching herself on the dresser.

“Idess? What is it?”

Her jerky gaze tracked to his, a little glassy and a whole lot desperate. “It seems,” she whispered, “that I need to feed.”