Her hands tightened on him, her nails digging into his back. “I can take it. I can!”
Maybe. Maybe not. But he couldn’t. The thought of hurting her, even in so small a way, destroyed him. If ever he gave her reason to look back and think of him with disappointment, regret or anger, he would willingly fall on his own sword.
“Can’t...continue like...this,” she said. “Please.”
Never beg, he wanted to say. But he liked it too much to stop her from doing it again.
“Pleeease.”
“I’ll help you with these feelings.” Somehow. Someway. Though he lacked experience, he touched her here, there, seemingly everywhere at once, but it was never enough, not for him, yet she began crying out, gasping so hard, straining against him, begging, begging, begging for more.
The pressure inside him increased. It reminded him of the times he’d gone to his cave and exploded, the rage too much for his body to contain. But this wasn’t rage. This was raw, animal hunger. She was just so exquisite to watch, her eyes closed, her lashes casting spiky shadows over her cheeks, her lips red and plump, her scent intensifying, the fragrance of her honey eclipsing all that cinnamon and vanilla, and his mouth watered, and his insides...his insides...shattered.
And then she was shouting his name. And he was roaring at an exquisite agony that consumed him, utterly stunned, gasping, sweating, perhaps even babbling.
Yes, babbling.
“What happened? That was... I can’t describe... I’ve never... What we just did... Did you feel that... How could...” The realization left a film of embarrassment and a desire to flee, but he remained in place.
Nicola was hugging him.
He collapsed on the mattress. He was shaking, and...smiling despite his emotions. “Did you experience what I experienced?” Finally. A coherent sentence.
“Yes, and I didn’t pass out,” she said with a smile of her own.
“Neither did I.” He hadn’t lost control, hadn’t taken what he shouldn’t. Had stayed the course and taken another step on the path to claiming her. He had given her pleasure, and had, apparently, taken his own.
Soon, he told himself. Very soon, he would take the next step—take her fully. And they would fall off the ledge together.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
AS THE DEMON SCREAMED in pain, Thane removed the horns on its head.
As the demon cried and sobbed, Thane plucked out its eyes.
As the demon mewled, Thane peeled away huge hunks of the creature’s flesh.
Black blood ran down his arms in tiny rivulets, stinging, leaving welts. The scent of sulfur coated the air. At his sides, the walls to the cavern dripped with bodily fluids from the other victims. At his feet was a pile of organs he’d removed.
“If you refuse to talk,” he said, “I’ll remove your tongue before I kill you.”
The creature babbled, but all Thane heard was, “Blah, blah, blah, please. Blah, blah, blah, better than me.”
“You think you’re better than me?” he lashed out. “Or that I’m not any better than you?” Either way...
Giving in to the rage, Thane sawed at the demon’s tongue, as promised. But that wasn’t violent enough, and he ended up sawing through the creature’s throat. The body slumped against the chains binding it.
Perhaps the next one would be— There was no next one, he realized. He’d killed them all.
He scrubbed a blood-soaked hand through his hair.
He had arrived in Auckland two days ago, tracked a path of evil to the slums and found a group of homeless men and women that had turned on each other. They’d fought over the rights to a trash can, killed each other by sheer physical brutality, and the only survivor had then turned on the patrons of a nearby coffee shop, slaying three innocents before the cops arrived and gunned him down.
Thane had shown up as the remaining patrons were being questioned. Two had displayed tempers that hadn’t fit the situation, and he’d ended up following the worst offender to an office building. The male had yelled at everyone he encountered, and the employees had huddled around the watercooler to discuss how odd his behavior was.
That was when Thane realized the truth. Demons of strife were here, infecting humans. Probably obeying their leader—one of the six that had killed Germanus.
So, Thane had gone out, hunting the minions. Within half an hour, he’d found eleven, roaming the streets like hungry lions searching for gimpy prey. He’d initiated battle and immediately killed two. One had gotten away. The other three he’d managed to injure so severely that they weren’t able to run. He’d scooped them up and brought them back here, to his cave.
He’d spent the past few hours doing things that had once been done to his friends. Terrible things. Horrendous things. The only things that brought Thane any measure of peace. But no matter what he’d done, he’d gotten no answers.
Where was the leader?
Frustrated, he flew up, up, up to the opening of the cavern, then flattened out to dart through the narrow passage. Light spilled inside, chasing away the darkness and showing the way to the surrounding forest. Within minutes, he was outside, in the air, soaring above the rushing river, the tall, lush trees and the snowcapped mountains.
The scent of sulfur dissipated and the crimson stain of blood vanished from him, his robe cleaning itself as well as his body. The heat dropped off him like a winter cloak, cool air slapping against him. But nothing could wash away the feel of defeat.
A rustle sounded behind him.
He summoned his sword of fire as he turned—but there was no one there. The sun was in the process of setting, casting rays of pink and purple, the sky a darkening blue. The clouds were thick and white, the stars just becoming visible. He hovered in the sky, wings lifting and falling slowly, gracefully, his gaze tracking the surrounding area. But...again, he found no one.
“Come out, coward,” he commanded. “Fight me.”
Silence.
Irritated, he darted higher at top speed. Then, he leveled out and searched the clouds for any sign of movement. To his right he heard a whoosh.... He frowned. What was that? Whatever it was, the sound of laughter quickly followed. He changed course, only to find four winged warriors playing ball in the clouds. One threw the ball, while another tried to stop him. One caught the ball, while another tried to stop him.
Football. In the skies. Who would ever have thought? But...how happy they appeared. How content.
They weren’t part of Zacharel’s army, but Lysander’s. Thane recognized one of the males. Brendon was his name, and he had frequented Thane’s club on many occasions.