Demetrius (14 page)

“Fuck, D. This cuff is jammed, probably from when she freed herself. It’s going to take longer.”

“He’s coming,” Callista said in a stronger voice.

Demetrius reached down and grabbed his backup 9mm from his boot harness and handed it to Callista. “All you need to do is point and shoot.”

Rourke picked at her cuff. “Just make sure you look before you pull the trigger. Zoey gets catty when she’s shot.”

“Yeah, okay.” Callista’s wide eyes bored into the door.

A cloud of evil appeared and blossomed into a shape. After Callista’s description of Malachim, Demetrius thought he knew what to expect. And it wasn’t the six-foot tall male with a larger than average build and walnut brown hair. The only thing that suggested he was a demon was his black eyes. Even with those, Demetrius would be forced to admit, Draken could be called a good-looking guy.

He looked human from head to toe. The dude was completely naked. And hard. Even that was above average.

“You seek to take what is mine.” He had a deep voice, rough, like he gargled with sulfur-tainted blood each morning.

“I’m not yours,” Callista said firmly, and, thankfully, her eyes were planted on the male’s face.

Draken gave her a smug look. “Your blood begs to differ.” He held out a hand, beckoning her to him.

Callista took a step toward him. Demetrius stopped her, but she pressed against his arm. Her struggle to control her body was evident in her eyes.

“She said no, demon.” Demetrius fired three shots into Draken’s head.

The demon staggered back, but righted himself, shaking his head. The holes were there, but no blood leaked out. Within seconds, the holes had closed.

Not good.

“Callista, come,” Draken barked.

She cried out in pain as she tugged away from Rourke, who refused to let her injured wrist go.

“No, no, no.” Callista shook her head, tried to keep herself from moving closer to the demon.

Demetrius held her back and unloaded his clip into Draken.

Which only made him angry. The black eyes glowed and he bared his teeth, displaying fangs twice as large as Demetrius’. Hellfire, he’d rip Callista’s jugular every time he tried to drink from her.

Draken leapt for him; Demetrius met him halfway. They grabbed each other and flew to the ground, wrestling, punching, kneeing each other.

Fangs weren’t the demon’s only weapons. Fingers sprouted claws that tore through Demetrius’ clothing, leaving deep rents in his skin. Draken opened his mouth wide to tear at Demetrius’ face. Instead, Demetrius head-butted the demon so hard he flew back.

Blood streamed down Demetrius’ face into his eyes, but he didn’t want to risk a slippery grip by wiping at it. He scrambled for something, anything, to use against Draken. The Glock that had fallen when they’d collided was in view. Demetrius grabbed it as Draken sprang toward him.

Using vampire speed, Demetrius slammed his gun into the demon’s face, then his gut, back to his face, landing blow after blow.

“D, she’s out of here.” Rourke’s voice broke through the haze.

If Demetrius thought he could kill Draken via beating, he wouldn’t stop. Risking a look back, he saw Rourke holding an empty cuff and Callista gone.

Draken jumped to his feet with a roar.

Rourke threw a vial that busted at the demon’s feet. Having fought together for so many years, Demetrius’ honed instincts knew what to do.

Light ’em up. He flicked his lighter open and tossed it by the vial. Flames sprouted and Draken’s inky eyes widened.

He disappeared.

“Fuck!” Demetrius yelled. “Can demons do that?”

Zoey rushed in, looking like she’d been beat to hell and left in a dumpster. Her normally calm demeanor was gone.

“Where’d he go? I owe that fucker a concussion.”

“Gone,” Demetrius replied grimly, wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt. “I need to get to Callista.”

Rourke had grabbed a fire extinguisher and was aiming it at the small fire. “I told her to flash to the compound’s garage
.” 

Before his next breath, he was at the garage. She was standing by the entrance, unable to get in.

“Callista.”

Her back was to him, and she jumped, firing the 9mm she still held into the concrete floor. She flinched again when it ricocheted. Thankfully, not into either one of them.

“Oh my god, Demetrius!” She looked at the hole chipped in the concrete. “I’m so sorry.”

He went to her, but didn’t pull her into his arms. “Don’t worry about it.” Taking the gun from her, he put it back in its holster.

Framing her face with his hands, he tried to calm her. “If he could find you here, Draken would have beaten me to you. The compound’s scrambling his senses. You’re safe, princess.”

Cursing the flashing blocks he had in place just this once, he opened the door and led her in. She followed him all the way to his apartment without saying a word.

He nodded to Scurn, who only raised an eyebrow at their appearance. The door across the hall opened and Demetrius tried not to groan.

So
not the time.

“Weakness is as weakness does.” A pale green eye matching his own peered out.

Callista stopped and stared numbly at his sister.

Chapter Fifteen

“Callista, this is Isabelle.” He waited, debating on whether to complete the introduction. Only his inner circle and Scurn knew of Isabelle. Seeing Callista trying to interpret the appearance of someone new and comprehend her Yoda-like speech, he caved. She’d find out eventually. “Isabelle’s my sister.”

Her eyebrows rose while his sister switched eyes peeking out of the door’s crack.

“Nice to meet you,” Callista mumbled.

“Strength doesn’t do weak. Sometimes.” Isabelle’s eye flicked down to Callista’s wrist.

Now Callista’s brows were drawn together.

“Your lips are sealed.” Isabelle switched eyes again and that eye peered at Scurn, narrowed. Abruptly the door shut.

Callista blinked. Demetrius wanted to tell her everything, but she needed care first. His sister’s story could wait.

Compassionately, he led her inside his apartment. “That was her way of saying that you can’t tell anyone about her.”

“You have a sister no one knows about?”

“It was to keep her safe. The council came after her once, thinking we wouldn’t want her because she’s…” he shrugged, “crazy. The fight almost killed me and my parents, so we let them think it killed Isabelle. I thought maybe after Sigma was destroyed, she’d be safe, but not with what’s going on. She’d be an even bigger target.”

“Is that why you took it upon yourself to save our race? Why you champion the…weaker?”

“It opened my eyes to practices that needed to stop, like selling my sister to Sigma and their insane studies. But right now, I need to take care of you.” He led her to his bedroom and drew her close to him, his hand brushing her cheek.

Tilting her head into his hands and closing her eyes, she let out a shaky breath. “What do we do?”

“We keep searching for a way to free you. First, you need to feed and heal.”

Her eyes opened, pupils dilated, desire wafted from her and the sulfur stench of the demon was masked by wildflowers.

“You feed,” his voice was husky, “and I’ll make you feel good. Will you let me do that, Callista?”

“I want to taste you.” Her pink tongue darted out, licking her lips, and he knew she wasn’t talking about feeding. “But you can’t drink from me.”

He captured her mouth, let his lips linger. “I can’t drink your blood, but I can drink you when you come on my tongue. I can taste everything else you have to offer.”

He drew her head down to his neck. She could lick his skin to feed from the way he was bleeding from his fight with Draken. Good thing that was not how it was done. He wanted to feel her fangs sink into his neck, feel her lips pull on his skin. He was hard and aching with anticipation. Until her broken wrist mended, he would go no further. She’d feel only pleasure tonight.

She licked at his neck, he hissed, and she struck. With great effort he held himself in check until she took several draws.

Exquisite.

The pulsating burn of his wounds faded as they healed, Zoey’s potent blood doing its job. Callista’s familiar scent and her lips drinking from his vein filled him with deeply erotic pleasure instead of the sting from healing.

Her tongue swiped at the puncture marks to close them. She brought her head up.

She had tasted another female’s blood running through his veins. “You fed.” Her voice held hesitation but he felt a homicidal, possessive pulse from her emotions

He liked it. “Zoey gave me her wrist, and Rourke choked me until I swallowed.” A wave of satisfaction wafted off her. He licked the rim of her ear. “I thought of everything I wanted to do to you to keep it down.”

He caught her earlobe with a fang, careful not to puncture it. Her fists dug into his tattered shirt and twisted.

“More.”

“As you wish, princess.”

Lifting her sweatshirt, he drew it over her head. Making sure not to ruin the brand new shirt she wanted to pay him back for, he pulled that off, too.

She wore a simple bra that looked anything but on her. Her eyes sparkled against the lavender hue. Her sunny blonde hair might be messy, but it only gave her a tussled-from-sex vibe.

“You’re breathtaking.” Slipping his fingers into the cups of her bra, feeling her warm, satiny flesh, he followed the trail his fingers traced with his mouth, peppering her with soft kisses.

He marveled over how much he enjoyed taking his time with her. It was unlike him. Before, sex was a basic need, the partner inconsequential. He preferred fast. But not with her. With her, he wanted to linger, wanted her to trust him to bring her ecstasy she’d never known, never knew possible. Needed her trust that he wouldn’t endanger her life by going too far. Not until she was free.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” Her hands tunneled through his hair. Or tried to. It was a tangled, bloodied mess.

He remembered what he must look like. “I need to shower before I devour you.”

“No, you’re perfect. You’re real, you’re alive.” She tugged his shirt off. “I feel like any other experience I’ve had was pretend. You’re just so much more.”

“Damn right I am,” he growled.

She’d had experiences before, but she only experienced so much. He’d put the other experiences all to shame. Wipe her memory of any previous male who’d touched her just like she’d deleted his past as soon as he’d laid eyes on her.

He loved the feel of her hands roaming his body. Picking her up, he nuzzled her breasts as he carried her to the bed. He descended on top of her and pulled her bra down.

Firm breasts popped out and his mouth watered. “I want to sink my fangs into these delicate little veins.” Her tainted blood would keep him from penetrating, but couldn’t keep his tongue from tracing the twisting paths they took across her body.

He dipped his tongue into her bellybutton, and chuckled when she squirmed and arched into him. The salty tang of her skin tantalized his taste buds, he continued to carve a path toward paradise.

Until he ran into her jeans. He almost ripped them until he remembered her stubborn insistence to pay him back for these also. Undoing the clasp, he took them off, leaving her panties that matched her bra in place.

Gently pushing her legs apart, he met her eyes before dipping his head to nip at her panties. She inhaled sharply and held her breath. He licked her through the material, reveling in her soft sigh, the way her hips rolled into him.

His body was stretched taut, every part of him straining to get to her, but he couldn’t. Tonight was about her, for her.

He used his tongue, teasing her while the cloth grew damp. When her breath sped up and her pelvis jerked with increasing urgency, he decided it was time to get serious. He hooked his fangs over the waistband and dragged them off.

Finally, she was bared to him, legs spread, her folds glistening from the way he’d worked her up. He cupped her knees and pushed them up, spreading them so he could see everything.

“I’m thirsty, Callista,” he said, his voice ragged. “You’re drenched and it’s for me. You’re all mine.”

His announcement resonated between them. It went farther than their physical connection.

“I’m all yours.” It was confirmation to herself. Demetrius knew she needed to feel in control of herself, her body.

Cupping her ass, he found her clit and swirled his tongue around it. She moaned and writhed when he laved a trail to her opening.

He entered her with his tongue, her walls tight. Her legs relaxed and her back arched.

“More, Demetrius. I want more.”

He traced a path back to her nub. Swiping, swirling, and flicking the sensitized flesh kept her straining and grinding against him. Hands were in his hair, tugging, releasing. He put more attention on her clit, felt her breathing quicken, then he nicked it with the tip of a fang.