Page 131 of Demon's Bane

“My mate.”

Never in the history of the human or demon realms has so sweet a thing been said.

Even sweeter is the warmth of Joan’s mouth as I kiss her deep, the delicious gasp I devour. And impossibly sweeter still? The way we move together, shifting bodies and shedding clothes until we’re both bare.

“Once more, Joan.”

“My mate.”

It’s my turn to say it next.

I whisper it as I shift her on my lap so my fingers can find her eager heat and stroke into her, making sure she’s ready for me.

I say it on the edge of a warning as she grows restless and needy, angling her hips over my cock and trying to take me inside her.

She only stills when I let her know in no uncertain terms that she’ll not be hurt further on my watch. She’ll let me hold her, care for her, keep her still and do all the work of pleasing her, or I have no problem carrying her to her bed, tucking her in safe and warm, and not laying a finger on her until she’s fully healed.

It’s enough to have her pliant and trusting in my arms, allowing me to tease her, make her soft and damp and ready for me.

I slide deep into the warm embrace of her body, and when—determined witch she is—she tries to move on me again, I band my arms around her and hold her in place.

“Relax for me, my mate.”

Joan complies with panting sighs and glassy eyes and a body that melts under each touch and stroke and warm caress. And when she opens for me, allowing my knot to slip inside her, it feels like coming home.

I drop a hand to her clit and rub in slow, heavy circles.

She stays still for me this time, lets me work her toward her climax, shatters around me and tucks her face into the crook of my neck—teeth pressing hard against my skin.

I murmur to her as she trembles her way down from her orgasm, tell her how beautiful she is and how she belongs to me, how she owns my body and soul and how there is nowhere in any realm for me but here. Through it all, I can’t help myself repeating those two sacred words. Over and over like a litany, a vow.

My mate.

When she’s lax and heavy against me, I thread my hands into her dark hair and tip her head back. I find my mark—still bright and vivid at her throat—and kiss it once, twice, skim my fangs along it and smile at her gasp.

“Let me claim you here as well?”

She nods enthusiastically, presses closer, arches up to meet the bite.

Eager, so eager, my mate.

But I want to take my time with her. I’m not ready, not quite, because as soon as I have my fangs in her, I know it will be too much.

So I go slowly, teasing more little sighs and gasps from her, bringing one hand back to her clit while the other stays twisted in a firm grip in her hair. It drives her wild, has her body quickly tensing and straining, racing toward another orgasm.

The waves of it crest and build around my cock, beneath my hands where I have her held, and just before she breaks, I strike.

My fangs sink deep, piercing her tender skin and drawing a moan of surprise and pleasure from her.

It’s enough to break me, too.

The intoxicating draw of her blood and the feel of her hot cunt spasming around my knot, the way she cries my name as she loses herself to the pleasure I’m giving her, the bond that ripples and shimmers between us—stronger now, living and breathing and tying us together.

I rock my hips into her, dig my fingers into the soft swell of her ass and bury myself deep.

For a few long minutes, all the pleasure we share might be the only true thing in all the realms.

The frantic beat of Joan’s heart, echoing in my own chest.