Touch of the Demon (Kara Gillian #5)
Page 29“Well, yeah, he didn’t have the right.” I said. “Not without my permission.” I frowned and watched him, wary. “Look, it was just a kiss, and an odd one at that. I mean, it lasted a few seconds at most.”
The flare of potency faded, but his eyes smoldered again. “Nothing with him is without purpose.” He closed the distance between us again, eyes traveling over me. “Nothing.”
“I’m starting to realize that,” I said with a wry smile.
He moved in and gripped my head firmly in his hands, wound his fingers in my hair.
I laughed low in my throat. “I thought you had lords to attend to?”
“I am unavoidably detained.” He tightened his hands in my hair with the perfect amount of intensity to send heat rushing through me. “I have far more pressing business here.”
His mouth came down on mine, fierce and possessive, as if to remind me what a real kiss was like. His arms came around me, and he lifted and carried me inside before near-throwing me onto the bed. I let out a surprised yelp, then grinned as he took hold of my sweater and pulled it over my head. I hadn’t put on a bra earlier, and I was damn glad of it now as he lowered his head to my breasts. He continued to suck and lightly bite as he undid the fastening of my pants, then sat up, grabbed the waistband, and yanked them off me in one fluid motion.
“I do not like that Mzatal touched you,” he growled before lowering his head between my legs. I groaned and dropped my head back as he began to work some lordly magic with his tongue. Mzatal certainly hadn’t touched me there, but I was totally okay with Rhyzkahl doing whatever he felt necessary to fuck the Mzatal off me, so to speak. More than okay. In no time at all I was crying out and clenching in orgasm. Mzatal who? I don’ know any Mzatal….
Rhyzkahl was far from finished. He straightened up, eyes still lit with a possessive fire that made my loins spasm and shudder in all the right ways. “You are mine,” he snarled. “My summoner.” He pushed his pants down only enough to free his erection, which somehow turned me on even more. Yet even with my libido raging like a nuclear reactor in meltdown, I forced myself to hold up a hand. “Wait,” I gasped.
“Swear to me that you won’t get me pregnant,” I said, still trying to catch my breath. Back at home I was on the pill. Here, I had no such protection, and I did not want to take the chance that a lord/human hybrid was possible.
He gave a low snort, though I couldn’t tell if it was in amusement or derision. “I have no desire to get you with child,” he told me. “I swear I will not do such without your consent.” Before I could do more than nod in acceptance, he seized my hips, flipped me onto my stomach, then pulled me up to my hands and knees and entered me in the same movement. With one hand he pushed my head down to the bed as he drove hard into me, wringing low guttural cries from me with every thrust. He knew me so damn well, knew what I wanted—what I needed right now. I didn’t want lovemaking. I wanted some hard and mindless fucking, and he was damn well going to give it to me.
His hand tightened in my hair and his other slid around to massage my clit. Before I knew it I climaxed yet again, giving a hoarse scream as I bucked in his grasp. Rhyzkahl continued to thrust deeply as I shuddered, but as soon as I was finished he pulled free and turned me onto my back. He kneed my legs apart and entered me again. His mouth came down on mine as I wrapped my legs around him, yet this time he kept his pace slow, almost teasing as he kissed me. I moaned against his mouth and slid my arms around to stroke the smooth muscles of his back.
He broke the kiss to nuzzle below my ear. “I am deeply pleased you escaped to come here,” he murmured.
“You just like staking your claim,” I replied with a low laugh.
His teeth grazed my neck. “Dahn. I have no need to claim what is already mine.” He began to thrust harder, and my desire for any sort of conversation fled. I lifted my hips to him, already feeling another orgasm building. Was it some sort of demonic lord trick that made that possible? If that was the case, I was totally ruined for human men.
I clutched at him as the pleasure built between us. He came first, with me only a few seconds behind, in a frenzied tangle of limbs and hair and sweat and musk. Eventually he slowed and stopped, still lightly pulsing within me.
“You are my summoner,” he said, looking into my face.
“No shit, Sherlock,” I said with a throaty laugh. I lifted up my arm. “I even have the tat to prove it.”
After Rhyzkahl left to greet the lords, I dozed a bit. Or maybe I was in a post-coital coma. Either way, I lay in languid stupor until well after the midday bell, only dragging myself up and out of bed after a pair of faas entered—again with the no knocking, but bearing food.
After bathing and dressing—and discovering that I was nowhere near as sore as I should have been after the morning’s exertions—I headed out to explore more of the palace grounds.
Kehlirik wasn’t waiting for me in the corridor, though I had no idea whether it was because Rhyzkahl decided to trust me or because the reyza had been disciplined for my attempted break for the grove. I hoped to hell it wasn’t the latter. I liked Kehlirik, and he’d been distracted only because of his efforts to shield me from Sehkeril’s harassment.
At the same time, I knew damn well that I was still being watched and guarded, even if I didn’t have a giant demon at my side. As I walked down the corridor, I caught flickers of motion in my peripheral vision, and the occasional glint of eyes hidden in shadows. After I stepped outside I peered up at the towers, unsurprised to see Pyrenth and two kehza peering right back at me. Yep, still watched and guarded.
It’s for my own protection, I reminded myself, though the thought came with a sour twist of annoyance. The memory of the incident with Kadir rose, and a shiver ran over me that had nothing to do with the chill in the air. Kehlirik hadn’t been able to shield me from the creepy lord’s attentions. What the hell was I supposed to do if that sort of thing happened again? I scowled as I trudged up the path on the side of the palace away from the grove. I had a hard time believing that an oath would be sufficient protection.
I crested a rise and my scowl faded. The path dropped away to a plot of surprisingly verdant winter grass atop the cliff overlooking the turquoise sea. A light breeze snuck its way through my sweater, and I regretted not bringing a jacket. High clouds streaked the sky, and I wondered if the weather was similar enough to Earth’s that fronts could be predicted by how the clouds moved. Not that I knew how to do that. I predicted the weather by calling up the forecast on my smartphone.
On the green stood a gazebo-type thing draped in flowering ivy and surrounded by bushes of brilliant reds and blues. Soft musical tones reached my ears, and as I approached I saw small crystalline ornaments, artfully hung to catch the wind and ringing far more elegantly than the usual wind chimes. A gentle warmth surrounded me as I stepped in, and the flicker of sigils told me that the structure had been warded against wind and cold much like my balcony. The supports of the gazebo rose to delicate filigree arches, the stone translucent and glowing in the sun.
I settled on a bench and let the low melody of the crystal-things soothe me. A faas shimmied up a tree not far away and began to pluck golden winter fruits. Long-winged birds with iridescent green plumage wheeled beyond the lip of the cliff, giving soft cries that sounded more catlike than birdlike. It was all so very close to Earth yet not, in a way that was somewhat unnerving, like a doll that was a little too lifelike.
From where I sat I had an excellent view of the sea to my left and the mountains rising behind the palace to my right, and I realized the gazebo had likely been situated for that. My gaze swept over the mountain range and stopped at a section that just looked wrong. A chill raced down my spine. I squinted and realized that the dip in that area wasn’t a natural valley but a massive crater, large enough to have taken out half a mountain. More signs of the cataclysm. The decimated location of another ancient valve.
“Oh my god!” she exclaimed. “Detective Gillian!”
“Ummm,” I replied in a remarkable display of intelligence. How the hell did this woman know who I was, and why would she call me that? “Yes?”
She moved to the bench near mine, beaming. “You don’t remember. It’s me…Michelle.” Apparently I still looked utterly baffled because she added, “Michelle Cleland.” She laughed. “I guess I looked pretty shitty the last time you saw me.”
My jaw dropped. This was Michelle Cleland? The last time I’d seen her she’d been tied up in the middle of the Symbol Man’s summoning circle. A crack addict who’d turned tricks to score more drugs, she’d been an easy target for the serial killer. Now I could see that, yes, the features were the same, but holy crap, the difference! No longer the pinched and gaunt look of an addict, her skin and hair glowed with vibrant health, and she’d filled out to where she was now slender instead of skinny. But more importantly, she looked happy.
“Damn…Michelle!” I began to grin. “You look amazing! Wow. I guess things have been okay for you here?”
“It’s been awesome,” she said with a warm smile as she arranged the cloak around her. “This may sound kinda lame, but thank you. I know you saved me.” She dropped her eyes to her hands and then brought them back up to mine. “Coming here saved my life. I know that.”
“You have no idea how glad I am to see you’re doing so well,” I said. “To be honest, I had no idea what really happened to you after the ritual.” I grimaced. “For the longest time I thought you were dead.”