CHAPTER THREE

Not even a dirty martini could quell my rage and I freaking loved that drink. The guy at the bar already knew this. He’d made me three already – very dry, three olives in each glass – and it wasn’t even happy hour yet.

“What’s eating you up?” a guy’s smooth voice asked from beside me.

I jerked my head in his direction and was met with sea-green eyes, fiery, red hair and what was obviously genuine Armani.

Great.

Darryl Winer was sitting in a bar stool beside me, wanting to know what was “eating me up”.

Could this day get any worse?

First, I woke up to an empty bed that morning. Scary Russian Guy had, apparently, taken off sometime in the early hours and hadn’t even left me a note or a goddamn card. I’d only had one one-night stand before him and the guy had even told me his favorite color after sleeping with me. SRG had only casually mentioned owning a hotel; I had no other info about him.

Of course, I didn’t expect cuddling and breakfast in bed with him – I was under no illusions that what happened the night before was once-off – but the whole mystery was eating up at me. I liked knowing the facts and the fact that I knew next to nothing about SRG pissed the crap out of me.

The simmering anger I’d felt – mostly at myself – continued in the shower as I thoroughly scrubbed the memory of him off my body. It continued as I pulled on yet another stupid skin-tight dress – ruby-red this time, to highlight my jezebel status – and went downstairs for a big breakfast.

And it almost came to the fore when I bumped into SRG himself on my way out the large, lavish dining room after an incredibly delicious, hearty breakfast of bacon, toast and bacon.

He was with an older, silver-haired man who was clad in a smart charcoal-black suit and was at least a foot shorter than SRG, which made him roughly my height. SRG’s hair was pulled back out of his face in a low ponytail and I was horrified to discover that I itched to run my hands through it. He was in a sky-blue V-necked T-shirt that matched his eyes, black low-slung jeans and incredibly scruffy black motorcycle boots. Divine was the first word that came to my mind, despite the fact that I found it difficult to believe that he could possibly have any shares in a hotel of this exquisite standard, looking the way he did.

He’d glared at me – yes, glared at me – and said nothing before leading his companion into the dining room without so much as a backward glance. No “Morning, Rae” or even a small nod of recognition. Those blue eyes of his had just turned arctic and he’d ignored me as if he hadn’t broken into my hotel room last night and fucked my brains out.

I’d felt like a prostitute. I certainly looked like one.

Darryl Winer sitting next to me ten hours later at the bar, asking me what was “eating me up”, was not helping matters. He wasn’t supposed to know I existed, let alone talk to me. I was being sloppy.

“Meeting someone?” I asked him, tipping back my glass and downing my vodka drink. I’d consumed olive after olive as well and was beginning to feel a little ill.

“Are you?” Darryl countered, and I looked at him. He really was attractive with those green eyes of his. Cassie Winer was right to be jealous of anyone that so much as blinked at him.

“Flying solo tonight, I’m afraid,” I casually replied, motioning to the bartender – Dan – to get me another drink.

“Tad Thornberry not with you tonight?”

“Who?”

“Tad?” Winer gauged my blank look. “The guy you were wrapped around yesterday?”

Shit. Winer had really copped a good look at me last night and I’d thought I was being inconspicuous.

Sloppy, Rae. Real sloppy.

“What’s it to you?”

“Tad’s an old friend of mine,” Winer informed me, accepting the bartender’s silent proffer of a scotch on the rocks. “He has a wife and two teenage kids. He does not need to have a beautiful woman like you wrapped around him like a snake.”

This was rich. The guy I was following because his wife thought he was creeping around on her was lecturing me for being a home-wrecker.

Dan was blatantly ignoring me. Probably because he thought I’d had enough. Idiot.

“What about you? You got a wife? Kids?” I asked Darryl, although I already knew the answer.

His eyes immediately glazed over – with genuine love, I saw. “Her name’s Cassandra and we’re expecting a baby.” He paused. “That’s why I need to wrap business up here and get back to her tomorrow.”

Cassie’s pregnant? I thought, startled. Huh. Guess I don’t know everything.

“That’s, um, great. You do that,” I told Winer, meaning it. His wife was dumb as a brick if she’d ever thought he’d cheat on her. Especially when she was pregnant with what was obviously their first kid.

“And you’ll stay away from Tad?” Winer downed his drink and set the glass on the counter.

“Absolutely,” I told him truthfully. I prayed to God I’d never relive my arm-candy humiliation and bump into Tad again.

Winer nodded. “Nice talking to you.” He got to his feet. I realized then that he really was a good guy. He’d been looking out for his friend – and his friend’s family by default – by nicely telling a perceived, slutty threat to back the hell off and he wanted to get back to his wife and unborn baby ASAP when he practically had carte blanche in Vegas with whomever he wanted.

“Wait,” I said to him, and he turned to me, arching a brow.

“Yes?”

“Tall guy. Long, dark hair and really blue eyes. Owns the hotel?” I sucked in a deep breath. “You were sitting with him last night. What’s his name?”

A smile tugged at Winer’s lips that told me he knew exactly who I was talking about. “Last name Anghelescu. All you need to know.”

Ang-hel-ess-coo. That didn’t sound Russian to me but before I could press it, Winer stalked off, leaving me alone at the bar with questions and an anger that was still a long way from dissipating. I grabbed my handbag and hopped off the stool and shakily got to my feet. Drinking had definitely been a poor decision. I was making a lot of those lately.

Like last night.

“Get a grip, Rae,” I chided myself, because this was getting ridiculous. Why was I so mad? It wasn’t as if this guy had made any promises to me. It wasn’t as if he’d committed to me. For all I knew, Angel-whatever-the-fuck made it a habit of randomly accusing women of giving him come-hither looks so he could have an excuse to break into their hotel rooms and fuck them senseless.

I felt myself get wet just remembering; remembering the feel of him inside me, giving me orgasm after orgasm while his big, hot body left an imprint on mine. Just the thought of it was enough to undo me.

I’m not going to think about this.

Gambling. Gambling would take my mind off everything. Did being slightly tipsy mean I’d be more careless or more intuitive? I didn’t know. I didn’t care. All I knew was that my work in Vegas was done and I could get home – maybe even visit Renée – earlier than expected. Darryl Winer wasn’t a cheating dog. Cassie could sleep easy. And so could I.

I was thinking that it felt good to be able to give someone some good news for a change when I walked smack-bang into a tall, willowy figure that reached out and steadied me with his – I could see that they belonged to a guy – arms.

I muttered an irrational, “Watch where you’re going” and immediately pulled back.

“Baby Phat Girl?” the man queried, his voice laced with disbelief.

No, I thought in a wild panic, those three words giving me a jolt of recognition.

I practically sobered up in that instant, narrowing my eyes. Sure enough, the incubus from Paris was standing in the doorway of the bar, looking incredibly...good. I hadn’t gotten that good of a look at him the first time we’d met (and who could blame me?) but it was safe to say that he wasn’t even my type.

He was far too lean and boyishly fresh-faced. Icy-blonde hair curled behind his pierced ears, furthering his cherubic image. His eyes were a long-lashed, chocolate-brown and were set in extraordinarily alabaster skin and if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought he was a Twilight reject. But I did know better and I knew that I had to get away from him. If I hadn’t gotten drunk, I would’ve felt him coming a mile away and this confrontation would’ve been easily avoided.

“You following me or something?” he asked, snapping me out of my trance.

My eyes focused on his chest. Incubus was splashed across his black T-shirt in blood-red font. An incubus that wore Incubus band Tees. The irony was not lost on me, maybe due to my intoxication. I didn’t want to laugh but I was close to doing so, which is why I steadfastly bit my bottom lip.

“Baby Phat?” he repeated, arching a brow.

“It’s Rae,” I snapped, only because I kept thinking he meant the dreaded f-word.

“Ray,” he said, now blatantly checking me out. He did it in an extremely offensive, leering way. “Like Ray Charles?”

I couldn’t help it. The drunken laughter I’d been suppressing escaped my lips. In fact, I pretty much doubled over in laughter and would’ve fallen over in my stupid heels if the demon hadn’t reached out and wrapped his arm around my waist. I knew I was supposed to recoil. Getting manhandled by a demon? Not cool. Getting manhandled by a sex demon? Well, I’d probably have to bathe in holy water. Every day. For the rest of my life.

“Rae with an E. Not a Y,” I explained between laughs. I stopped, glancing down at his arm and looking up at him. “And you? What’s your name?”

He cocked his head, his eyes dancing with humor. “You don’t wanna know.”

“I don’t?”

“No. It’s the stuff of nightmares.”

I didn’t even know if demons had names. Well, normal names. I knew about the biblical ones. Like Legion. My father had imparted that knowledge to me before he’d died but never in a million years would I have thought I’d be standing in a bar asking a demon that had once tried to force himself onto me what his name was.

“Well,” I began, interested despite myself, “what is it?”

“Templeton,” he intoned, putting me out of my misery.

“What?”

He sighed heavily. “My mother’s a big fan of The A-Team. The original A-Team. So she –”

“You have a mother?”

He smirked at me. “Yes, Baby Phat. I have a mother. How do you think I got here?”

“I...” I couldn’t finish my sentence. Demons had mothers. How had my father not told me this?

“I’m a halfling. That means I have a human parent.”

“I know what a halfling is,” I mumbled, although I hadn’t ever really thought about them. Looking at this…this demon, you’d never be able to tell that he could send you to eternal damnation with one crook of his manicured finger.

“You can call me Temp. Everyone does.”

“Your mother clearly hated you,” I whispered.

“I hate to agree with you, Baby Phat.” His arm tightened around my waist and he leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. “So what are you?”

I sucked in a deep breath. “Get away from me. Now.”

“You’re drunk,” he said softly. “Let me take you to your room.”

I tried to push him away. “So you can...attack me?” The fear was there; the fear of dying at the hand of this creature. I thought of myself as spunky, brave even, but dealing with something like this was enough to make my backbone crumble into dust.

He rolled his eyes at me – actually rolled his fucking eyes at me as if it were irrational to be terrified of him. “Relax, Baby Phat. I’ve fed already. From a more-than-willing object of my desire,” he said slowly, as if he were talking to a little child. “Even though you look” – he sighed – “impeccable, I won’t touch you.” He demonstrated this by taking an exaggerated step away from me. “Better?”

“I don’t trust you,” I snapped at him, all the while wondering if that “object of his desire” was still breathing, or if the poor woman was now a grinning corpse in a hotel room. “I don’t want anything to do with...with your kind. Being around you makes me sick.” But that could just be the vodka.

Temp did another eye-roll. “A little melodramatic, don’t you think?” He reached out and gently pulled me out of the way as a couple strode past me, effectively closing the distance between us. “This place is crawling with my kind,” he cheerfully enlightened me. “They don’t call Vegas the City of Sin for nothing, babe. So you might want to think about that before you strut around looking like this, especially when you’re drunk and the next guy you meet won’t be as nice as me.”

I gulped. Crawling, he’d said. Crawling with them.

Oh God, I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here!

“I’ll take myself upstairs, thank you very much,” I whispered, and made a move to march past him.

His hands shot out and he pushed me up against the wall, positioning his body before me and gently but firmly pressing his lower body against mine. To anybody watching, it looked like a frisky interlude but to me, it felt like I was dying a thousand deaths. Temp’s eyes weren’t creepy in any way – in fact, they looked a bit familiar – but they were narrowed as he stared down at me.

“OK, Baby Phat,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve humored you enough. Spit it out. What are you?”

Even if kneeing him in the groin was possible – which it wasn’t, considering how restricted my movement currently was – I was simply frozen to the spot in fear.

Temp impatiently repeated himself.

“I-I’m a p-p-private investigator,” I stammered, humiliated by how petrified I sounded. Enraged men caught with their pants down baying for my blood? No problem. Curious incubi that touched me? Turned me into a pathetic, stuttering mess.

“A private investigator,” he repeated, quirking a brow as if he didn’t believe me.

I took a deep breath before saying, “I specialize in tailing unfaithful husbands. Huge market, if you must know. Men can’t seem to keep their dicks in their pants. I would’ve given you a business card but I don’t believe in self-advertising.”

Temp gave me a strange look. “Look, Baby Phat, I’ve been turning on the charm full force since we started talking – and nothing,” he told me, now looking affronted. “You’re supposed to be putty in my hands right now. Putty. You’re supposed to want me. So I’ll ask again: What are you?”

I felt anger swirl around inside me and clung to it, releasing my hold on panic. “I’m a woman who’s becoming extremely pissed off, so I’m giving you one last chance to get the fuck away from me before I beat the horse crap out of you,” I said through clenched teeth. “I never asked to be able to know when your kind is around me. My father passed that gift on to me. No matter how hard I try to forget about it, I can’t ignore it. Happy?”

Temp immediately let me go. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re immune to me.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “Would you object if I kissed you?”

I couldn’t mask my horror even if I wanted to. Revulsion – and abject fear – made me give out an odd squawk of shock.

“I guess that’s a no,” a cheerful Temp said for me. His face became sober. “I only wanted to know what you tasted like, Baby Phat. That’s all. Every creature tastes differently. No need to look so dismayed.” He let out a short laugh, grabbing my hand. “Come on. I’m taking you upstairs. What floor are you?”

“Three.”

I allowed him to lead me out the doorway of the bar. I allowed him to lead me past the high-energy casino entrance. I even allowed him to steer me to the elevator. His hand felt surprisingly nice around mine. Comforting, even. I didn’t want to think too much about that. Temp was nice-looking but he was a demon and he wasn’t my type.

I tended to lean towards tall, dark and devilishly handsome.

This was my train of thought when the elevator pinged open – and Tall, Dark and Devilishly Handsome stood inside the car, on his way out.

He was still in the same clothes I’d seen him in that morning, except that he’d loosed his hair from its ponytail and it flowed in a thick curtain around his face. God, I yearned to run my hands through that hair again. I had to physically restrain myself from leaping inside and doing it.

Anghelescu – or whatever he was called – paused and threw me a look that could have frozen the entire percentage of water inside me. Temp either ignored it or wasn’t aware. He dragged me into the car with him and the elevator doors came to a close.

“Evening,” said Temp, pressing the third-floor button. His tone was strange. Moderately reverent.

“Disappear,” growled Scary (Possibly) Russian Guy, and I stared at him in puzzled disbelief.

“She needs to get to her room,” Temp told him, further confusing me.

“Disappear,” SRG repeated, his voice an octave lower.

Temp squeezed my hand before releasing me. “As you wish, Andrei.” And he instantly disappeared into thin air.

All that air seemed to disappear with him.

Andrei, he’d said. Andrei.

It all came back to me in a rush of drunken adrenaline – Paris, Nicolette, Hotel Ange Noir...

“Andrei would like you. You’re his type.”

Temp’s words replayed in my head like a scratched CD. Just how many Andrei’s could Temp possibly know? He’d just left me in an elevator – a confined space – with Andrei; with what was obviously one of his kind.

And all the while I was processing this, Andrei Anghelescu was watching me, taking up more space than was humanly necessary – because he wasn’t human.

I’ve fucked him, I thought, my face contorting with the horrible realization. I’ve fucked a demon.

“No,” I croaked, my head pounding, praying that this was some sick, twisted joke. I pressed myself against one of the silver panels of one side, squeezing my eyes shut and opening them again. “No.”

It didn’t make sense. Even in my vodka-addled state, I could tell that something wasn’t right. If he were a demon, why hadn’t I sensed him last night when he was inside me? The fact that my brain was all fuzzy from martinis explained why I couldn’t feel his energy surround me now, but last night? Last night, I’d been as sober as a judge.

Andrei extended a long arm and pressed the emergency stop button. “I take it you know what I am now?” he said quietly, narrowing his eyes at me as the car rocked to a stop. “The question is: What are you?”

I inwardly grimaced. I was getting sick and bloody tired of that exact same question.

“I had sex with you,” I breathed, still in a state of total shock.

“I know,” he said impatiently. “I was there.”

“I can’t... I think... Oh God, I’m going to be sick!”

Andrei moved, now standing so close to me I could see the minute hairs of five-o’clock shadow dotting his painfully masculine jaw. I pressed myself as far back as I could possibly go, breathing heavily but trying not to succumb to the mad hysteria inside me.

“I fucked you,” he muttered, threading his hands in my hair. I was disgusted by the way I was still aching for his touch despite knowing what he was. “Fucked you hard. Consumed a shitload of your energy. By rights, you should be in bed recovering.” He paused, considering this. “No, you should be half-comatose – maybe even dead. Yet here you are, wearing close to nothing and looking...the way you look.”

I swallowed, my breath ragged. Hearing him talk about what he’d done to me in such a crass way was enough to make my panties wet. I certainly was my mother’s child, running around sexing creatures of the Underworld.

Maybe Temp was wrong, I thought hopefully. Maybe I’m just as susceptible to incubi as the next person. Maybe this is just an involuntary reaction.

But even as I thought those words, I knew they weren’t true. I had hunter’s blood in my veins and we were immune. No, this was attraction on a primal level.

“Don’t lie to me,” Andrei pressed. “Are you an angel?”

I couldn’t help it: I laughed. I laughed louder than when I’d laughed at Temp. I laughed louder than I’d ever laughed in my entire twenty-seven years. This was beyond ridiculous. An angel. He thought I was an angel. An angel, for Pete’s sake!

He scowled at me, clearly not used to being ridiculed, and grabbed my chin, tipping it toward him. “Don’t fuck around with me because you have no idea who I am. Now talk.”

I had no clue what came over me, except that in the last twenty-four hours, I’d seen enough demons to last a lifetime, been manhandled by two of them, had the best sex of my life with one, and was currently fighting to control the scream dying to get out of me. So I slapped his hand away and glowered at him.

“Don’t try to intimidate me, buddy. I’m so not in the mood,” I fumed, ignoring the intimidating look on his face. “I’m human and I enjoy a very mundane, very human existence, so if you don’t mind”– I pressed the emergency stop button and the elevator started up again – “I’d like to get some sleep and get the hell out of this hellhole – literally – first thing tomorrow morning so I can continue it. You with me?”

He stared at me. I stared back.

The elevator doors opened and a laughing couple patiently waited for us to exit. I slid past Andrei and tottered out, praying that he wouldn’t follow.

He did.

“What do you want from me?” I snarled, whirling around once we were at the door to my suite. Anger seemed the best thing to hold on to rather than my absolute terror. And lust. Yup, despite my knowledge of what he was, I was still attracted to him – it.

Those eyes of his were several shades darker and I instantly knew what that meant. Before I could say something scathing, he seized me, angling his head, and smashed his lips against mine. The fact that I knew what he was didn’t stop my body from reacting to the feel of his soft lips against mine. I melted against him, my hands grabbing the folds of his shirt, and moaned when his tongue slipped into my mouth.

Heat immediately pooled in my belly and, without using my card, Andrei pushed the door open and picked me up, kicking it shut behind us and switching on the overhead lights.

My legs were wrapped around his waist as he led me to the newly-made bed and set me down, lying over me. Dammit, I wanted him. I wanted him so badly I wouldn’t have cared if he suddenly revealed that he was really a goblin-turtle hybrid. Or something.

My dress came off and my underwear followed, leaving me naked for his consumption. I wanted his mouth to soothe the heat overwhelming my entire body. I wanted his mouth everywhere.

He pulled back, his eyes flickering over my body with naked desire.  I squirmed and he stilled me with strong hands.

“Stop,” he growled. “You are completely and totally fuckable. Don’t hide from me.” He lowered his mouth to one breast. “I’m having you checked out, Rainelle Erickson,” he murmured into my skin, pulling a nipple into his mouth and suckling. “You know why?”

I whimpered with pleasure, unable to grab his hair like I wanted to because his hands were holding me down.

He raised his head. “Because I don’t like complications,” he said softly.

“I’m...not,” I gasped. One of his hands had released me to stimulate my pussy.

“You are,” he said huskily, teasing my swollen clit between his fingers, “because you are different.”

I bucked under him as he slipped a finger into me at the same time.

“So wet for me,” he murmured, that accent of his coming to the fore again. “Such a good girl.”

He withdrew his fingers and rolled off the bed and onto his feet. My eyes were closed and the only thing I heard was the sound of the drawers being opened. I’d thrown every condom in there that morning, disgusted with myself.

“Get up,” Andrei barked, and my eyes flew open.

I was panting for air as I crawled off the bed. He’d shed every bit of clothing and stood before me, his encased erection massive and beautiful. He grabbed me to him and his mouth sent electric charges through my body once more before he pulled away and spun me around so that my back was to him.

“I’m going to fuck you hard and you’re going to beg me for more,” he snarled into my ear, kneading my swollen breasts with his hands. “You are not going to be sick. You are not going to want to get out of here. You are going to come until my cock is tattooed inside this sexy ass of yours.” He squeezed my ass and I sucked in air. “You with me?”

I nodded, already close to orgasm at his delicious words.

“Words. Say it.”

“Yes,” I panted.

“Bend over,” he commanded.

I did as he asked, bending at the waist and placing my hands on the soft, downy carpet. Andrei’s fingers instantly sought my wetness, circling inside me and sending ripples of pleasure through me that wrought my mind havoc. He rubbed a finger around the puckered opening of my anus, lubricating it and further pleasuring me that way when he slipped the same finger deep inside me. I cried out, so ready to come I could taste it.

Languid minutes passed as he held onto my waist and pleasured me at the same time. His fingers spread me apart and I held my breath, heart thumping in anticipation.

I felt his cock at my entrance; felt him circle me, torturing me. Biting my lip, I prepared myself for what was to come – and come, it did. He thrust into me about halfway, stretching me to a maximum. I cried out again, shutting my eyes. He pulled out then plunged deep into me, to the hilt this time, incomparably filling me up. Delicious pain morphed into intense, unbearable pleasure as he increased the pace, his thrusts becoming faster and deeper.

He grunted each time he drove himself into me, his hold on my waist tightening and my body quaking with the force of each beautiful invasion.

I screamed through my orgasm, riding that wave until it evaporated. It was a powerful orgasm that didn’t seem to have a beginning or ending. Andrei was buried inside me and he sank his wandering fingers into my still dripping pussy. He filled my front; he filled my back – and I came again, wailing loudly. I wasn’t going to be able to support myself any longer and Andrei seemed to sense that. He came, his big body racked with spasms as he groaned into the air.

He pulled out of me and I collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath. He left me there, walking over to the bin and disposing of the used condom. I peered over the bed and watched him clean himself up.

“No more,” I pleaded, my voice hoarse. I had no idea if he wanted more but if last night were any indication, I sure as hell knew that incubi had amazing stamina. I, unfortunately, did not.

“No more?” he repeated, tearing open another foil packet. His hungry gaze sent shivers down my spine. “You don’t mean that, Rainelle. You’re just as hungry for me as I am for you.”

I gulped, watching him roll the latex on.

“How can you still be so hard?”

“You,” he said simply. “Get on the bed. I’ll fuck you slowly.”

That sounded delicious. My pussy seconded that thought by clenching in anticipation.

Jeez, Rae, my inner voice admonished. What the hell’s gotten into you? Have you forgotten that he – it – is a demon?

No, I hadn’t forgotten. How could I? It was right in front of me: The fact that he was a demon; an evil creature, and being with him was unnatural. But what exactly could I do? Tell him I didn’t want him inside me when we both knew that that was a bald-faced lie? I wanted him with an intensity I didn’t know existed and I couldn’t even blame it on his sex-demon magic because, apparently, I was immune to it. So I hopped onto the bed and lay flat on my back, my arousal coming back to me in a flood.

Andrei slid beside me, his sheer presence making me wet. Feeling bolder, I reached out and ran my hand down the planes of his hard chest. He made a low noise in his throat as I circled his navel and moved down his happy trail, pausing at the start of the short, dark curls of pubic hair.

“What’s it like?” I asked, my wandering hand stilling when he reached out and grabbed my wrist.

“What’s what like?” he muttered, his darkened eyes on mine. “Being me?”

Well, that too.

“No. Fucking me.”

His gaze never wavered. “You’re different. Your energy – your life force – is more intoxicating than the average human’s,” he said quietly. “It’s intoxicating and it’s satisfying. I could probably go a few months without sex after being with you even once. I’ve never been with anyone like you,” he added, looking like he was trying to figure me out.

This worried me. It sounded like I was incubus catnip, which would explain Temp’s behavior. “Intoxicating? Like a drug or alcohol? You mean addictive?”

“Relax, Rae,” Andrei said dryly. “I’m not going to enslave you as my personal fuck-toy.”

The thought had never occurred to me until he’d said it aloud. Images flashed through my mind of being locked in a dungeon for him to seek pleasure whenever he was low on energy. I shuddered – whether from fear or pleasure, I had no idea.

“There’s nothing special about me,” I said, more to myself than to him. I leaned toward him and kissed him on the mouth, pushing him back until he was propped up by the mounds of pillows behind him.

I needed to dominate him. I needed to show him that I wasn’t afraid of being with him like this. I didn’t know why but I needed to.

So I hoisted myself onto his lap and impaled myself on his manhood, taking him in to the root. I released a moan of contentment, holding onto his shoulders as I slowly rode him. His hands were around my waist, steadying me and I ran a hand through his silky curtain of inky hair, clutching a hank of it and pulling.

He made a guttural sound in his throat and thrust upward, sending a wave of pleasure through me. It hurt to be fucked by someone as incredibly endowed as he was. It hurt and it didn’t because pleasure trumped pain any day. I couldn’t decide if I was in control or if he was but dammit, it felt good. I felt guilty that it felt this good.

I leaned into him, shoving my breasts in his face for attention. Having his mouth around one aching nipple was driving me crazy, as was the intense feeling of him buried inside me.

“Ah,” I gasped, when he nipped at my nipple with sharp teeth. The pain was surprisingly welcome and I decided that I liked it. Loved it, even.

What is happening to me?

“There, Rae,” Andrei growled, holding me down on him as he thrust into me. “Right” – he drove into me again – “there.”

My inner walls clenched around his cock as I climaxed, crying out from such extreme pleasure. Andrei immediately turned me over, forcing me onto my back as he slammed into me, his thrusts faster, harder, angrier. A stab of fear shot through me when I saw his eyes briefly turn completely onyx – and then a shimmering, blazing crimson – when he came, the force of his ejaculation pinning me down into the mattress. I bucked under his weight, fear giving way to a second orgasm, and dug my nails in his lower back, clawing my way up the hard planes of muscle.

Andrei barely flinched, even though I could feel that I’d drawn blood. Instead, he waited a beat before pulling out of me and sitting up, giving me his back. I watched in horror as the red welts I’d inflicted on the ridges of his back minutes ago healed. Unblemished tan skin was left in their place.

“Make me forget,” I choked out, pulling the covers over myself and hiding my nakedness.

Andrei turned at the waist to look at me. “What?”

“Erase my memory. I know you can do that. Please.” I paused, biting my lower lip. “Make me forget you.”

If I could pretend that this weekend had never happened, I would probably be able to look at myself in the mirror. Probably. The sight of him healing himself was enough to drag me back to the freaky reality that I had had repeated sex with a supernatural creature.

Andrei was silent, his face chillingly impassive.

“Andrei, please.”

How could I live with myself after this? My father was rolling in his grave, I was willing to bet, disgusted and disappointed by me. I couldn’t blame him. I felt the same way.

Andrei rose wordlessly, putting his clothes back on. I sat there wishing I hadn’t decided to choose tonight of all nights to get completely plastered. I had a massive headache starting up and alcohol had been at least partly responsible for my weak will. It was definitely responsible for my inability to sense Andrei Anghelescu’s demon aura.

Right?

Much like Gavin Turner’s assault on the plane, I didn’t see Andrei’s attack on me coming. One minute, he was standing beside the bed and the next, he was hovering over me with his hand firm around the pulsing column of my neck.

I couldn’t scream – déjà freaking vu – but I wouldn’t have wanted to because, with his hand wound around my neck, Andrei had distracted me from what his real aim was: Sticking two fingers up my throbbing pussy and dragging out a gasp of surprise from my mouth. Deep inside me, he jerked his fingers toward himself and I whimpered, arching my back off the bed.

“Erase your memory?” he spat, his fingers furiously inflicting sweet agony to my insides.

His eyes were blazing – literally – and his face had become a picture of barely controlled rage; a rage that was unquestioningly directed at me. I couldn’t speak but I didn’t have to answer his rhetoric, of course. The only thing I could really do was lay there and allow him to humiliate me by pleasuring me like this.

“Make you forget me?” The pad of his thumb was like a hot coal on my swollen clit. “You can never forget me, Rainelle Erickson.” His fingers were bringing me close – in and out, in and out, round and round, round and round... I was going to come. Again. “I feel how wet you are for me and I want to fuck you again,” Andrei snarled, his eyes hungrily sweeping over me. “I am five seconds away from making you my personal fuck-toy. You have no idea how much you’ve just pissed me off.”

I groaned, shamelessly and frantically rocking my hips and pushing my sex into him. I could feel my juices trickling down my thighs and onto the crumpled white bed sheets.

Humiliating.

“My answer to your request?” Andrei crushed his lips against mine, forcefully prying my closed lips apart and taking what he wanted. He pulled away, leaving me panting. “Go fuck yourself.”

And he rose, towering over the bed.

Before I could blink, he vanished, making me seriously consider fucking myself.

***

“Leaving without saying goodbye, Baby Phat?”

I whirled around, aware that Temp could hardly do anything to me in a hotel lobby full of people. I felt braver than I’d been the night before. Being sober – although a little hung-over – was a big plus.

I slipped my sunglasses onto the crown of my head and narrowed my eyes at him. “You’d better get the hell away from me before I do something I won’t regret.”

Temp chuckled, flashing his extraordinarily pearly whites. “Charming, angel. Don’t you want to hit the Strip or something?”

I wrinkled my nose. “No, I want to hit you.”

“Come on, Baby Phat. I’ve got a pocket full of ones and I’m looking for some buns.”

I stood in front of my suitcase, glaring up at him. “Andrei’s your friend, huh?”

A strange look crossed his face. “Friend. Good one.” He straightened the front of his peach polo shirt. “He fucked you?”

Despite myself, a blush crept up my neck and, in my V-neck T-shirt, I knew Temp could see it.

“He fucked you,” he said, nodding. “I’m going to give you a word of advice, Rae,” he said grimly, his increasingly familiar dark brown eyes on me, “someone like you doesn’t want Andrei in their pants. No matter how great the sex was, it’s not worth it.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “What about Paris? What about how you said he’d like me? Now you’re looking out for me?”

“That was before I knew you,” he quietly replied.

“You don’t know me! You know nothing about me!” I was almost crying from angry frustration. My life was screwed up and it had only taken three days in Vegas for that to happen.

Temp reached out and placed his hands on my shoulders. “I know that demons are not your cup of tea, Baby Phat. I know that you’re a good person because you’re out here trying to put a suspicious woman’s mind at ease.” He tipped my chin up. “I know that you’ve probably already figured out how dark and cruel Andrei is. Not all of us are like him.”

I wasn’t a sappy, spineless female who needed a man to rescue her every five seconds but I liked how safe and secure I felt around Temp – Temp, a sex demon; the same sex demon that had tried to force himself onto me on my birthday. It was ridiculous but true.

“Sweetheart!” a loud voice trilled from behind me, pulling me out of my trancelike state and forcing me to turn around because it was practically in my ear. “There you are.”

It was a woman and I recognized her as if I saw her in the mirror every day – which I sort of did. She hadn’t changed over the years, which was impossible because I’d last seen her twenty-one years ago. Dressed in a white figure-hugging sleeveless dress with her strawberry-blonde hair framing her heart-shaped face, she looked like the angel I’d always thought she was – until she took off with a demon.

My mother hadn’t aged a day.

For a minute, I was shocked that she would recognize me after all these years – twenty-one years – and more so that she’d act so blasé, as if we’d lost each other in the supermarket or something…

“Give Mommy a hug,” she said in her vaguely-familiar sultry voice – and she threw wide arms around Temp.