Page 7 of Wreaking Havoc (Demon Bound #1)

6

Kai

K ai sat in front of the small machine—the “laptop,” Sascha had told him—staring at the image on the background. There were green, rocky hills with sheep scattered all around. The land looked familiar: modern-day Ireland, or Scotland, possibly.

Had Sascha been there? Kai had been summoned in those parts, a time or two. Perhaps they’d walked over the same land, centuries apart from each other.

Kai smiled at the thought. He’d have to ask in the morning. Sascha had retreated into his room for the night, after setting up another bedroom for Kai and insisting haughtily that Kai was under no circumstances allowed to watch him sleep this time.

He was a strange creature, this Sascha. Fearful one moment, brave the next. Bold beyond reason, then unaccountably shy. Full of contradictions at every turn.

As when Kai had called out his attraction—Sascha had been red-faced and strangely flustered, even as he’d shamelessly insisted Kai was mistaken. That Kai was “not his type.”

A lie if Kai had ever heard one.

He saw the way the human couldn’t keep his eyes off him, sensed the simmering lust in his soul piece, smelled it on his person. So why the foolish denial? Was Sascha perhaps nervous their bodies wouldn’t fit?

They would fit. Kai would make sure of it.

Perhaps he needed to convince Sascha of that fact…

And perhaps Kai should have been alarmed with how quickly he was changing his own mind—telling himself one moment that he didn’t fuck his bargains, then spending the next considering how best to seduce sweet Sascha. But it was only natural, wasn’t it? Kai had been alone a very long time, and Sascha was so very…tempting.

Kai brought a hand to his chest, where Sascha’s soul was lodged. Was it perhaps the little soul piece’s fault? It had settled so well within him it was hard not to think how else they might merge.

Kai had heard rumors, of course. Of demons meeting a compatible human and choosing to stay in the realm, to bond with that human only. He’d figured the compatibility part had been an excuse—those demons had wanted to remain, and they’d found their way. All souls had always tasted the same to him.

But no longer. Sascha’s soul piece was like no other he had tasted: sweet and juicy, with little salty or bitter pockets hidden every which way.

Or maybe the problem was all the tempting thoughts Sascha had brought up with his talk of being pampered. His definition was so lacking it made Kai want to rectify the situation. Sascha thought money and a lack of responsibility made him so? What of being brought the freshest kills? Having his naked form draped in the brightest furs of the demon realm? Being bathed in warm rivers and massaged with fine oils?

Of course, that was mating behavior…

But Sascha had brought the subject up, whether he’d intended to or not. His talk of niceness . Niceness was a human construct. Sweetness was what he really craved, to match the sweetness in his soul. And demons of Kai’s ilk were sweet only with their mates. Mostly because the females of his species were twice as large and three times as ferocious. If one didn’t want their head bitten off—quite literally—sweetness was the only option.

But Sascha? Kai wouldn’t need to be sweet with him—Sascha could hardly lay a scratch on him, even if he wanted to—but there would be a certain…pleasure to it, wouldn’t there? Watching those pale cheeks redden in delight? Seeing if he lashed out in haughty embarrassment?

It would be delicious to try.

As delicious as the rage simmering alongside Sascha’s lust—rage that Sascha didn’t quite allow himself to feel but that bubbled up each time he spoke of his family. Rage as dark and tempting as the bitter brew he’d procured for Kai that morning.

Kai sighed, licking his lips. All in its time. For now, he needed to focus. They’d whiled the rest of the day away with Sascha educating Kai on the modern world, explaining how the various modern doodads worked, giving Kai the password to his laptop so he could “goggle” what else he might want to learn.

As to what Kai really wanted to know—who was after Sascha and why—Sascha had been as unforthcoming as ever. He claimed he needed to consult his brother but made no attempt to do so. As if he feared involving him.

Which was odd in itself. If this Ivan was his kin, and they were in no contest for power (as Sascha insisted they were not), why wouldn’t he want to aid him? Maybe it had something to do with Sascha’s reaction that morning, when discussing how his family “spoiled” him.

Kai had seen it before, in those who had experienced battle too young. There were different words for it in different eras: battle-dazed, shell-shocked. He supposed now they would simply say the pup was traumatized.

And maybe Ivan had something to do with that.

Kai growled, turning his attention back to the laptop. He opened the browser, as Sascha had shown him, and typed in the name: Ivan Kozlov.

It was frustratingly slow work. Sascha had typed with both hands, but Kai’s fingers were too large for the little plastic button letters; he had to press only one at a time.

But when it was done…

There wasn’t much information, only a few businesses listed. Nothing about mobs or Mafias. But there was a photo. Kai clicked on it carefully, and it grew on the screen. He studied it.

Ivan looked remarkably similar to Sascha—the same pale-blond hair, the same blue eyes, the same pink lips and almost delicate features. There were signs of his older years—light markings of crow’s-feet around his eyes, a certain solidity to his form. He was taller as well, from what Kai could see. And meaner.

With the eyes of a killer.

Sascha’s eyes may have been the same icy color, but they didn’t exude coldness, not like that. Kai found himself oddly grateful for that fact. He wouldn’t have wanted Sascha to have a killer’s eyes. Sascha didn’t need them anyway. He could continue to be strange and varied and sweet.

He had Kai to do his killing for him.

At that thought, Kai found himself eager to be closer, no longer content to poke around with the laptop. Why play with machines when there was better entertainment so close at hand? He wished Sascha hadn’t demanded he sleep in his own bedroom. They wouldn’t even have had to mate—Kai could have simply crawled into bed with him, shared some of his warmth.

He crept up the stairs on silent feet, stopping at the door to Sascha’s bedroom. He wasn’t technically disobeying Sascha’s order—he wasn’t watching him sleep, was he? He was only standing at a door.

It was the best location for standing guard anyway. He was there for Sascha’s protection.

And, as he was there, he couldn’t help listening. He already knew Sascha was still awake—he could feel a pulsing awareness from Sascha’s soul piece. What was he doing in there all by himself? Playing on his little magic phone?

Kai pressed an ear to the door. There was the rustling of sheets, the quiet sound of heavy breaths, and then…

Was that a moan?

Kai held his own breath. Yes, there it was again—a soft, little sigh of a moan. Was the human pleasuring himself? Kai’s cock grew heavy at the thought.

He breathed in deeply now, as quietly as he could. The door was in the way, but he could still make out the buttery tang of a human’s lust, deeper and richer than what he’d scented in the kitchen earlier. And as Sascha continued with his task, his noises grew less careful, and Kai grew even more sure.

If only Kai could see. Was Sascha stroking himself? Or perhaps playing with his entrance? Were his eyes closed, thinking of Kai? Sascha desired Kai’s body; that much was clear. But did he imagine Kai filling him? Did he prefer Kai in his demon or his human form?

No matter. Kai could give him either. Or both.

He grasped his hard cock through his trousers. His ridges were pulsing now, almost in time with Sascha’s desperate gasps. He could stroke himself right here, if he wished, mark Sascha’s door with his release.

He let out a long, low growl at the thought.

All at once, the noises inside the bedroom stopped.

Kai held back a curse. Would Sascha yell now? Order him to his own room?

But after a moment, the familiar sounds of pleasure started up again. They were even louder now, as if Sascha were perhaps nearing the end. Losing control.

Kai bared his teeth in a grin. He kept his grasp on his cock, his thumb playing with the slit through the soft fabric of his trousers as he drank in the muffled sounds. Sascha hadn’t stopped, but he hadn’t acknowledged Kai’s presence either. Did he think to play? To pleasure himself to the thought of Kai listening, then deny it in the morning?

That was fine. Sascha could pretend all he liked.

It had been a long, long time since Kai had held desire for anything tangible, but he desired this human. In what way, or for how long—those were questions he could answer later.

But of one thing he was certain—he wanted Sascha.

And what Kai wanted, Kai would have.