Demon Chained 5 by Hayes Erica

Author:Hayes, Erica [Hayes, Erica]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Demons & Devils, Horror, Paranormal, Dark Fantasy, Romance, Adult, fae, Genre Fiction, Paranormal Romance, Literature & Fiction
Published: 2013-09-11T14:00:00+00:00

"Thank you." My voice shimmied, brittle.

"You're welcome. What the hell for?"

"For not abandoning me." God, I had so much to say. I'd thought about him so much, his image and his hot black scent burned into my senses, the magical pull between us too strong to shake off. That's what it is to be owned. Obsession, longing, this desperate need to please. And he'd understand none of it.

My face tried to crumple, and I tried to pull it straight, and the result was tear-streaked, swollen, surely un-pretty. Damn it. This was the second time I'd cried for him today.

He watched me, dark. "This means that much to you? I . . . we, that is . . . it means that much?"

I sniffed and wiped my cheeks. It meant everything. "God, I hate this, Tam. I hate being so fucking helpless. I wish I could just . . ."

His gaze flashed dark, painful. Raw. "You deserve better than me. I'm sorry."

And then he did it. He touched me.

Nothing alarming or provocative, just the brush of his fingers on my cheek. But it wasn't to make a point, like the other few times we'd touched. It was just for me, and I melted. Our gazes met, and he let his fingers linger, gentle.

Now or never.

My hand shook as I slid it over his, cupping his palm against my cheek.

He flinched.

I tightened my grip, catching his fingers between mine. "Don't be afraid."

"What are you doing?" He tried to step away, but there was no room.

"You know what." I caught him with his back to the kitchen doorframe, his body hot against my hips, my belly. A memory flashed, that smoky nightclub, the cool metal wall rough against my back. I'd wanted him then, like any woman wants a man. I wanted so much more from him now.

His warm scent sparkled over my skin, dark electricity. His slow heartbeat jerked against me, and a jolt of sensation speared deep into my chest. His eyes fixed on me, bright and stunned, hypnotized.

I could see the darkness in him, hiding just beneath his skin, a hint of color outlining his cheekbones and defining his bleeding mouth. A mottled bruise shadowed his cheek below his right eye, yellow at the edges and the deep grey shade of midnight in the middle. I wanted to touch it. So vulnerable, so flawed. So beautiful.

His fingers tensed on my cheek. "Look, you don't understand. I—"

"Tell me you don't want me, and I'll stop." I knew he wanted it. He could have pushed me off him, walked away any time. But his body yearned for me, quivered against me with the effort of restraint. I didn't want his restraint. I wanted him drunk, crazy, demanding. I wanted him to feel the way I felt.

I traced my fingertip along his cheekbone, across that tempting bruise, hot and damp like summer sweat. God, I loved sweaty sex, being immersed in a man's essence, bathing in his scent. Passion swelled between my legs, and I shifted closer, tighter.

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