Demetrius (16 page)

Undulating her hips, he jerked, his body’s way of notifying him he was remiss on his duties of reaching climax.

“Give yourself to me, Bishop.”

This time she squeezed her inner muscles and he was lost. “Yes, baby. Whatever you want, just let me finish.”

“Do you swear it?” Pumping her hips, he started pounding into her.

“Yeah, whatever, I swear it.” He should question what he was saying. Vampires never made oaths. Their lives were too long.

She laid back, her head resting against the door, a triumphant grin on her beautiful face. “I want your blood now.”

He didn’t know if he heard her right. She was human. His blood wouldn’t hurt her, but most women would find it disgusting. Whatever, it was her fetish. He’d finish fucking her and be done.

“Bishop, your blood.”

His wrist was at his mouth with a fang buried in it before he gave it a second thought. She grabbed it and drew it to her mouth. Her eyes gleamed then went solid black.

Obviously something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t finish his thought. As soon as she swallowed his blood, his mind was done thinking. He was nothing but a driving cock, releasing orgasm after orgasm. She released his hand and began speaking again.

He roared as the sensations overpowered him. Only a vague feeling that he was agreeing to terms out of his control stayed with him.

After he finished coming, he collapsed on top of her.

She stroked his hair and purred into his ear. “You’re mine now. We’ll be so good together, Bishop. I have to leave, but I’ll be back. No matter what body I’m in, you’ll know me. What I ask for, you’ll give me.”

He couldn’t move, his eyes felt heavy. She rolled out from under him, no easy feat, and he stayed stretched across the backseat, his pants down around his ass, condom still on.

“Until I come to you again, Bishop…” And she was gone.

Chapter Seventeen

“Was there anything in the book about how a demon can tie itself to an adult vampire?”

Demetrius studied Bishop. The male seemed off his game. He was usually jovial, but the last few days he seemed tense and moody. Whenever Demetrius spoke his name, he jumped like he was continuously lost in his own head. He’d been present at all of their meetings exchanging information, but it was in body only. His question was the first he’d spoken without any of them repeatedly trying to get his attention.

“Yes,” Demetrius answered. “
Any
body needs to be willing, whether vampire or human. The only difference is that vampires know exactly what they’re after, while humans are playing in the occult and are often too weak to handle it.”

“Can, like, the demon possessing a human bind itself to another?”

“Would have to be a powerful demon,” Zoey said. “If a demon’s invited into a body, it doesn’t take much energy for it to cross over. But to use its energy through the host, that takes some serious rank in the demon department.”

“No matter what,” Rourke interjected, “the other party would have to agree to it. It’s all about consent in the demon world, ironically.”

Bishop paled and his bloodshot eyes became bleak.

“Everything all right?” Demetrius never worried about Bishop. The guy was the most solid, stable male he knew. In his world, that was a rarity.

“No, yeah. Just something I saw out at the clubs. Got me wondering what I should watch out for, you know, like possessed chicks.”

Zoey snorted. “You have enough chicks coming onto you that you don’t need to worry about the possessed ones getting to you.”

Bishop’s voice was dull when he answered, “I know, right.”

Demetrius filed away a reminder to watch his friend and went back to the task at hand. They’d all read through the demon tome, but nothing in it told them how to release Callista.

He felt like the luckiest bastard in the world having Callista sleep next to him for the last two days. He kept his pants on most of the time, unless her mouth was on him...and hellfire, what a mouth. It was getting harder and harder not to lose his mind around her and drive into that wet, inviting heat.

“Sending Draken back to Hell isn’t enough. She’d still be bound to him.” Still die if Demetrius carried their bedroom activities too far. “I need to know how to kill the fucker.”

“What I want to know,” Zoey said, “is, where is he now? I mean, when she got behind these walls, did he get kicked out of the plane? If he’s still wandering around out there, then why does he need Calli?”

Demetrius wanted to howl with frustration, but he wasn’t a fucking shifter. “We need to know that, and we need to find out how much of the Circle is complete. Edgar’s death sent back Malachim, and Mundoon’s death decreased their number by another. The Circle wasn’t full before their deaths because there wasn’t Hell on earth. At most, they would’ve had twelve. Minus the two we sent back, the most we’re looking at is ten.”

Rourke laced his hands behind his head. “Except they had to call in Draken to help them recruit willing bodies. If they were that close to being able to open the portal, they wouldn’t have needed him.”

There was so much they didn’t know. Demetrius slammed his fist onto the table. “The truth is I don’t care about the motherfucking Circle. I care about killing that motherfucking Draken. All I care about is freeing Callista.”

“Unfortunately, D,” Ophelia gave him a censuring look, “you’re
not
in a position not to care. If we don’t get a handle on this Circle shit, then you’ll have the Synod breathing down your neck, or worse, interfering.”

“Don’t you think I don’t know that?” he snapped.

“Do you?” she returned. “Did Zoey tell you she covered your ass last night when you missed the weekly meeting?”

Fuck. Was it Monday all ready? No, it was Tuesday and he’d missed the meeting.

“You’re our leader,” Ophelia enunciated, like he was hard of hearing. “Calli’s not your true mate. Before you bite my head off and shit down my throat, I’m only pointing that out because it’s the only valid reason anyone on the Synod would understand for you losing your cool. If they find out you’re neglecting your duty, putting our people at risk, they’ll see it as being for nothing more than a piece of ass you can’t have.”

Ophelia was a foot shorter than him, petite for their species
and
humans. Yet she stood up to him, unafraid to tell him what he needed to hear. He wanted to tear her limb from limb for it.

“Ophelia’s right. You need to carry out your duties as normal for the Synod now more than ever. She’s safe with any one of us around this table,” Rourke spoke quietly, sensing Demetrius’ fragile hold on his control.

Demetrius gave him a sharp look. He didn’t like a male offering to protect Callista, and that’s why he knew none of the males around the table had offered.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, his spoke to Zoey. “Fill me on what I missed and the excuse you gave them for me not being there.”

Chapter Eighteen

Calli roamed Demetrius’ apartment. It was nestled one story below ground in the middle of the compound. All of his team and the compound’s guards had quarters in the massive structure. Compared to her house, the apartment was small, but spacious. She doubted any of the others were quite as large.

Restless, bored, and afraid for what her future held, she felt like a caged rabid animal. Even when she’d supposedly been at home for days on end with her father, she’d always snuck out.

She’d gone through Demetrius’ closet. Her few items hung with his. She’d found a dapper suit from the nineteen-twenties. She pictured him with his hair short and slicked back, in a mixed-stripe suit with a wool vest hugging his frame. The butterflies in her stomach burst awake and did a little dance.

Truthfully, he’d be good-looking wearing a coffee bean sack. The way his hair hung over his face gave him a dangerous, mysterious edge that contrasted with his open leadership. Was it his preferred the style or did he prefer the illusion of aloofness it gave him?

Isabelle looked so much like him, from what she could tell through the three inch opening of the door Callista talked to her through. Or tried. It was like chatting with the Riddler.

Hearing voices outside her door, she realized Demetrius had come back earlier than expected from his meeting. She waited for him to finish chatting with Scurn.

The butterflies somersaulted in her belly. She’d never tire of seeing him, anticipating how they’d come together next. She’d thought she’d done okay gathering experience about bedroom activities while maintaining her virginity, but Demetrius opened her eyes to a whole new world.

It wasn’t the acts as much as the connection, the…recreation. They played with each other’s bodies, enjoying their time together, getting lost in the pleasure that was made. It wouldn’t be the same with anyone else. The way Demetrius revered it, their experiences together seemed new to him also. And that made her feel good, powerful. In vampire life spans, he wasn’t old, but he still had decades on her. Decades he’d zestfully lived for all life had to offer.

In walked the object of her affection, and…her butterflies quieted. They didn’t disappear, but she imagined they were crouched and waiting. Odd.

He was dressed in the black tactical pants and tech shirt he’d left in. His hair was swept back off his face, and his pale green eyes regarded her as if waiting.

The few times they’d done this, him walking in after work with her greeting him, she’d jumped into his arms for a kiss. Tonight, she stood in place and watched him stalk toward her.

“Callista?” He came closer, and she resisted the urge to back up.

“You’re home early,” she managed to say. “Is something wrong?” Because it didn’t feel right.

“Not at all, love.” He stood over her now, his head dropping, intent on capturing her mouth.

She blinked a few times, unable to put her finger on why her girly alarm was ringing at full capacity.

His lips met hers. He was eager, diving into her mouth, his tongue searching for hers. His strong hands reached around her waist and she felt trapped.

She pulled back as far as his embrace allowed. “You just got home. Let’s make something to eat and talk.”

“I don’t want to talk, love. I’ve been aching for you; your scent is driving me crazy.” He caught her mouth again, pulling her in tight.

His scent was doing nothing for her. Where was his usual masculine panty-dropping smell? The mingling of their unique smells, especially when spiked with desire, was potent. She met his tongue, stroke for stroke, but only to give her time to think, time to figure out what was unsettling.

Time ran short; he yanked her shirt up. She hugged her elbows to her side to keep it down, pressing her hands against his chest to push back.

“Callista, love?” he frowned.

“I’m just not feeling well tonight.”
Love
.
Love?
Why did him saying that bother her?

“Let me lay you down,” he nipped at her ear. “I’ll make you feel good.”

“A sandwich would make me feel better. Why don’t we eat first?”

Irritation crossed his face and the frown remained. It was so unlike Demetrius to not cater to her needs. She was hungry, they stopped what they were doing to eat. She was tired, he curled her in close to his side so she could sleep.

It was so unlike Demetrius to not smell divine.

It was so unlike Demetrius to call her love and not princess.

“I had no idea you could do that.” Anchoring her hands against him with more force, her mind spun. Where had Demetrius stashed his weapons?

“Do what, love?”

The face, the voice, it was all what she knew, who she knew. He was good. Very good.

She shoved against him, but he held her tight. “What I don’t get, is why you need the bond to me when you can roam the earth and use all of your powers. Draken.”

A slow, sly smile spread across his face. “How perceptive. What gave me away?”

“You aren’t Demetrius.”

His appearance changed, altered. He was the good-looking demon she’d met the other night when he’d come to claim her. Passing him on the street, he’d turn heads, but not enough to draw an extreme amount of attention. Unless his eyes were the black they were turning now.

“Ah, but you can’t have Demetrius,” he kept her encircled in one powerful arm and trailed his fingers down her face, “because you are mine.”

No, she wasn’t. Her mother had had no right to give her away, not that it seemed to matter to demons. No use arguing. Maybe she could get some answers.

“And why am I so important, Draken? I get the whole bond thing. Yet, here you are, shape-shifting. You don’t need me to convince people to host a member of the thirteen.”

His ability to absorb anyone’s appearance and pose as them must be one of the reasons why he could persuade enough hosts to complete the Circle. She’d seen Malachim before he’d inhabited her father. There was no way that monstrosity was walking around unnoticed, much less invited into anyone’s body.