Page 12 of Demon Heart: The Complete Series

G iving up on sleep, I switched the kettle on.

“You okay with something stronger than chamomile?” I asked.

“Perfect. Are you okay?”

I shrugged, facing him. “I have to be. You look a bit rattled.”

He sighed. “I suppose I am.”

“What’s wrong?”

He moved closer, leaning against my countertop top. “Those silver bastards are outside.”

Battle mode activated. “Where?”

“They’ve just passed.”

“They found you?” I questioned, ready to defend my home. “You got a tracking device lodged up your arse or something?”

“My backside?”

My forehead creased. “Don’t know why I said that.”

“My backside was the first thing you thought of?”

A soft tremor rolled through me. “Can you just answer the question?”

His already austere expression darkened. “If they had, your door would be off its hinges.”

I untensed as the kettle boiled. “This is the most fucked-up night I’ve ever had.”

His aroma struck my nostrils again, sending pleasurable vibrations to every corner of my body.

I turned, adding teabags and water to cups. “Milk? Sugar?”

“Just milk.”

“Okay.”

I felt him move closer. “I’m sorry I brought danger to your doorstep.”

Was that his breath on the back of my neck or a warm breeze? “I think you’ll find I did.”

“As far as I’m aware, there is no tracker on or inside me.”

I stirred milk into his tea. “That’s good.”

“My guess is they are scouring the areas around and close to Hyde Park.”

“Fanning out,” I said.

“Precisely.”

“Then you have to be really careful when you leave. I don’t want them seeing you stepping out my door.”

“Of course, Roman,” he purred.

I swallowed, handing over his tea with my head lowered. If I looked up, I’d risk more of my reason, ask him to take me to my bed.

Not. Going. To. Happen.

His heat-resistant fingers curled around the cup, their own warmth brushing against my skin. So close, so long, so elegantly tapered.

I pulled away. “I should check the front door.” I hurried out of the kitchen.

“Whatever you have to do,” he responded, voice following me down the hall.

Locked. Secure. Two deadbolts and a chain drawn across it for extra clout. I moved to my bedroom next, the window overlooking Old Compton Street. Empty. No silver hunters. Only rubbish, a discarded bag of chips strewn across the concrete.

Vile. After everything the world had been through, you’d think people would put a stop to their mindless littering.

“Everything okay?”

I spun, Xavier in my bedroom doorway again, the dressing gown open enough to reveal his chest, his navel.

“Think I’m ready to sleep again,” I said, wanting him both out of here and inside me.

He cocked his head a little to the side. “I thought you wanted strong tea.”

“I…I do.”

The demon took a step back. “Caffeinated tea and sleep do not go together.”

Just get your dick in my ? —

“It’s fine,” I said.

“Then don’t let me stop you.”

I went for a quick move past him back to the kitchen, desperate to shake off my horny thoughts because this was his scent in my system, not really me. I was better than this, built from cold steel, shaped to be a killer, a creature of the shadows.

By awkwardly trying to avoid him, despite him giving me enough space to move past him, I listed to the side, my hand landing on his chest.

Oh. Shit.

I looked up to meet his gaze, palm glued to his flesh, horrified by the flare between my legs, unable to move.

“Roman?” he said, tone wickedly sensual.

“I…”

“What’s the matter?”

“I…” I’d lost my ability to speak, to function beyond my rising carnal instincts.

No. No. No.

“Do you want me to?—”

“No,” I cut him off meekly. “I can’t… I have to…”

“I am at your service if you need me.”

“You’re not a sex worker.”

“I can be for you.” Man, the way he said it sounded so normal. “Without the condition of payment.”

A hand came to rest on my shoulder, drawing a gasp from my lips.

“Let me make you feel better,” he whispered, hot breath washing over my face.

This wasn’t happening. This had to be a sex dream, one I’d snap out of any second now.

His hand slid down to my bicep, lingering on the muscle like a heat pad.

“You’re so warm.”

“A natural gift for you to enjoy.”

Oh, God…

“The next move is yours,” he whispered, taking his hand away.

“What?” I blinked up at him.

“Take this or not.”

“Take?”

He didn’t answer, his lustrous, icy eyes filled with promise.

“Fuck,” I breathed. “What am I doing?”

“You were about to make tea.”

I took a step closer. “Put your hand back.”

He did.

I quivered, sinking into desire. My cock strained against my shorts, the bump undisguisable. It ached, balls ready for an explosion. I either had to knock one out myself, or let the demon help me.

An incredibly handsome demon. A walking wet dream I’d never see again. He’d be gone soon, removing his fine body from my life, leaving me to wonder what if .

Yeah, as it should be. Save him into my wank bank, bury this night forever. I was only human. Humans committed follies of the flesh all the time.

Flesh. His flesh. On mine, in mine.

My hand slid down his chest, finding the dressing gown belt.

He did not take his eyes off me, his breaths long, his attention one of those burrowing drills they used in Antarctica to harvest ice cores.

“What do you want, Roman?” he asked.

To lock myself in the bathroom. “I don’t know.”

“Then we should?—”

I pulled on the belt. The dressing gown fell open as parting drapes, revealing a hard dick curved at the end. A pale instrument of awesome girth and length, perfect for rounding my inner corner to tickle the G-spot.

His thighs were thick, a waiting vice for one lucky enough to be giving him head.

Get out of there!

“You’re hard,” I whispered.

“I am.”

One-night stand? Work this lust out of me to restore my focus?

Yeah… Oh, yeah…

You are better than this!

My hands throbbed. I winced, flexing them. “Shit.”

“Your poor hands.”

“Yeah.”

“You won’t need them.”

Xavier removed the robe, the gray flannel pooling on the floor behind him.

I stared at him, the time for thinking and speaking over. Drank in a body of muscle and power I wanted to get under.

He moved in to kiss me.

I stopped him. “None of that.”

“Do you like it more feral?”

“No kissing.” Too intimate.

“Whatever you want.”

He growled with delight, grabbing me by the lapels of my vest. With one movement, he tore the vest from me, tossing it aside. Then he ripped my shorts in half, flinging them behind him. He made it look so easy.

My naked body tingled, vulnerable in the wake of a pretty beast.

Yes…

He picked me up, draping me over his shoulder in a swift, head-spinning move. He kicked the bedroom door closed behind him.

I want this.

I so fucking want this.

My face hung inches away from his caked-up booty, my tongue wet with the need to lick between those pert cheeks. But he threw me down on the bed, manhandling me onto all fours.

The time for words and thinking were almost over.

Emphasis on almost . One tiny seed of doubt, a sprinkle of water and sunshine, and hello giant flower with deep roots.

“No,” I breathed, rolling onto my back.

He paused before anything else happened. “What?”

“Not like this.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

Let go. Let him fuck you into oblivion. “I’m sorry.” I sat up, covering my erection, uncomfortably exposed. “I just can’t.”

He stared at me, a figure of potential death and pleasure rolled into one delicious package. I came so close to retracting my statement, to spreading my legs for a cock I knew would really sort me out. Him the plumber to my lonely house husband in a porno of cheesy acting and smoking hot sex.

“Whatever you want,” he finally said.

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Never be sorry for your own needs.”

Why did he still look ready to kill me? Oh, yeah. Demon. Big, muscly demon, me a twig by comparison.

“Thanks for offering, though,” I tried.

Disappointment clearly bubbled below the surface of his stoic demeanor. He left without another word, leaving me with the bluest balls in history.

But, in a night of stupid choices, I’d finally made a smart one.

It was bad enough to offer him shelter, but to let him inside me crossed the line once and for all.

Worse than that. It took the line and tossed it into the shredder, then doused the shredder in petrol and struck a match to really be sure the line was destroyed.

Laying back, my body aching with painful lust, I stroked myself. Closed my eyes, losing myself in erotic thoughts of the demon.

I played with my balls, the sensitive strip below them, working my shaft hard. Never wanting the rising pleasure to end, but desperate for the climax at the same time.

“Oh, fuck!” I gasped, slapping a hand over my mouth as my dick pulsed at the final hurdle.

I came so hard I hit myself in the face—actually performed a money shot move on myself.

Shame it wasn’t the demon’s cum.

After a quick cleanup, stealthily hitting the bathroom and returning to my bedroom, I sat on the bed, too many hours away from sleep.

A call from Piper came through a few minutes later.

Thank goodness I wasn’t in the process of fucking my brains out.

“Hello, Your Highness.”

“The queen wants you to return to Hyde Park immediately. Find out what’s inside that hatch and exterminate anyone inside.”

“Affirmative.”

“Send me a message when you’re done.”

“I will.”

She hung up.

This would make up for tonight’s sins.

Popping some Synth pills, I changed, gathered Skele, my dagger, and my pouch of tools. I had a few things to use in the field, designed by Her Majesty’s Master of Tools—someone I was never permitted to meet. Fine by me, as long as they kept making awesome toys.

I checked in on the demon and Darcy. The TV was on mute, Darcy snoring. Xavier laid out on the sofa, an arm thrown across his face, the duvet hiding his goodies. Possibly sleeping.

For a moment, I hesitated. Leave him here with Darcy? Could I really do that? But a weird understanding told me he wouldn’t hurt my friend or ransack my flat.

Fractured intuition didn’t protect my little buddy. So, I cast a diversion spell on him and across the cage. It hurt my fingers, but never mind. I’d keep it up for the duration of my assignment, knock back as many pills as required.

I left quietly, taking to the streets once again, more sexually frustrated than before my self-loving moment.