Midnight's Master

  For the last few hours, she’d been working on that damn demon killer story and she wanted to forget.

  Niol would help her to forget.

  Holly shoved the key into the lock and pushed open the door.

  Silence.

  Her heart slammed into her ribs. “Niol?” She crossed the threshold, kicking the door shut behind her. A quick punch of the alarm had her safe light shining steady again. “Niol, are you here?”

  He was…She could almost feel him.

  So dark. She reached for the nearby light switch—and warm, strong fingers curled around her wrist.

  “Don’t turn it on.” His voice seemed to be part of the darkness, a growl that sent shivers skating over her.

  He pulled her to him. His clothes rubbed against her, the hard strength of his body surrounded her.

  “Niol—”

  His mouth took hers, and, oh, yes, it was exactly what she’d been waiting for…

  Lips. Tongue. Tasting. Taking.

  Her sex clenched as a wave of lust had her shuddering.

  Her hands found his shoulders in the dark. Tightened around that broad expanse. She wasn’t going to pretend, not even for a moment, that this wasn’t exactly what she wanted.

  He was what she wanted.

  His mouth lifted, slowly. “Come with me.” He took her hand and tugged her through the house. The guy seemed to be able to see perfectly in the dark. She’d thought only shifters could do that. But he didn’t stumble, not once. Didn’t bang into her coffee table or walk into a couch.

  No, he just glided quickly through the den and pulled her into the bedroom.

  Candles flickered to life the minute they crossed the threshold—the tall, thick white candles she kept on her dresser and on her cherry chest of drawers. The sweet scent of vanilla filled the air and Holly’s breath caught.

  She expected him to pull her toward the bed. A soft mattress, silk sheets, and naked male flesh seemed like a perfect plan to her.

  But Niol steered her toward the mirrored doors of her closet. He pushed her in front of him so that she stared into green eyes that looked smoky…and wild.

  Niol stood behind her, his arms circling her body just below her breasts. His head bent toward her, his lips feathering over her neck.

  His lips closed over her flesh and her own lips parted in hunger.

  Then she felt the swipe of his tongue.

  Her sex creamed.

  She tried to turn, to catch his mouth and kiss him so that—

  “Don’t move.” An order whispered in her ear. “Watch…in the mirror.”

  His hands snaked down her body. He caught her skirt and shoved it to the floor. Her skin looked so pale next to his tanned hands. Darkness and light.

  His hands came back up, teased her stomach with a soft caress, then his fingers began to slowly unbutton her shirt. The edge of her bra peeked through the opening and Niol’s fingertips smoothed under the light material, stroking the areola of one nipple.

  Her legs stiffened. The better to keep standing.

  The candlelight danced in the mirror, swelling higher, brighter.

  The front of her shirt hung open now, clearly exposing her pale blue bra and the matching panties she’d chosen so carefully earlier that day.

  Knowing what would come?

  His thumb slid under the front clasp, popped it free and her breasts spilled forward, right into his hands.

  He teased her nipples, plucking and stroking with his slightly callused fingertips. The friction was so freaking amazing and she began to twist against him as the tide of desire rose within her.

  No teasing, dammit. She wanted the man.

  “Watch.” A seductive demand.

  The eyes she didn’t remember closing sprang open. His hands cupped her breasts. His mouth hovered over her throat.

  And his heavy cock pressed into her ass.

  He wanted her, just as much as she wanted him.

  In this, they were even.

  His right hand slid down her stomach and eased under the elastic edge of her panties.

  Yes… Did she say it? Or just think it?

  Either way, Niol heard.

  He stroked through her curls and found the core of her body. He slid those broad fingers over the button that was the center of her need.

  A moan burst from her lips.

  One finger found her hot, wet opening. Pushed inside.

  Not enough.

  A second finger drove into her and his thumb pressed right over her clit.

  Holly shot onto her toes.

  Withdraw.

  Thrust.

  In and out his fingers moved in a maddening rhythm that didn’t give relief, only made the fierce ache inside her grow even more desperate and consuming.

  Her hands fisted at her sides. The nails dug into her palms.

  “Do you want me?”

  Oh, what, was the guy crazy? Hell, yeah, she wanted him—she was straining and twisting and moaning like a woman gone wild against him.

  “Holly, tell me.”

  Withdraw.

  Thrust.

  She had to swallow twice before she could manage, “Yes.”

  “Brace your hands on the mirror.”

  Her hands slapped against the cool surface.

  The hiss of a zipper.

  The rustle of a wrapper—condom.

  Holly kicked away the skirt. Stood in her high heels, panties, bra, and open shirt. She waited—

  He tore her panties away.

  Finally.

  Her stance widened.

  Niol positioned himself behind her, arching her hips back to him, and—

  His cock brushed against the plump folds of her sex.

  His fingers trailed back down over the front of her body, finding that aching, quivering spot between her legs that she needed him to touch just as—

  His shaft thrust into her sex, a hard, no-holding-back, balls-deep thrust.

  “Watch.”

  Her gaze jerked up to the mirror. He was behind her, face set in tight lines of lust and hunger. Driving deep, the muscles of his chest rippling. Plunging, again and again—

  And stroking with those fingers. Right over her clit. So good. So. Damn. Good.

  Her body coiled. Tension mounted. She gasped his name, as the pleasure spun so close—

  She saw herself in the mirror. Twisting and moaning. Body flushed. Nipples tight. Straining toward the mirror.

  A woman with wild red hair. Cheeks stained pink. Gleaming lips.

  Thrust.

  Green eyes so dark, so—

  Too dark.

  The pleasure crested, slamming into her as Holly’s climax erupted in a fury.

  And her green eyes faded to black.

  Shit, shit, that was—

  Her sex spasmed.

  Her body quivered.

  So good.

  “See what I see.” The words rumbled against her as he kept driving into her. Again and again. His eyes blazed at her, a perfect black to match her own.

  Demon.

  Woman.

  Man.

  His cock swelled within her, filled every inch of her core. He shuddered. Then his hands dug into her hips and he jerked her up, higher, higher—

  Withdraw.

  Thrust.

  “Beautiful…” He gasped out the word and came within her.

  They made it to the bed. Somehow, someway. Holly didn’t remember walking there, and she didn’t remember him carrying her, either.

  But the mattress felt good beneath her, and Niol’s arms felt even better around her.

  She inhaled the vanilla. The candles were burning down so quickly now. A wave of his hand would extinguish the light—hell, a stray thought probably would—she knew that, but Holly didn’t want darkness, not yet.

  “Tell me about your brother.”

  Not what she’d expected in the aftermath of that storm, and Holly stiffened. She’d blundered earlier when she’d spilled her painful secret abou
t Peter. As a rule, she didn’t talk about her brother, ever.

  Niol’s fingers trailed down the length of her arm. “Easy, love. I just want to know more about him…to understand you.”

  Her head turned, just a fraction, to meet his stare. “Is understanding me so important? I thought this—” Her hand fluttered between her sheet covered body and his naked chest. One fine chest. “I thought this was just about the pleasure.”

  His expression didn’t alter. Niol, still using that mask that made her teeth grind together, even now. Surrounded by the scent of candles and sex, he hadn’t let his guard down.

  But then, neither had she.

  My eyes flashed black. Holy Christ, she could still hardly believe that. Being told by Niol and Dr. Drake—that was one thing. Seeing it—

  No more denial.

  “It is about the pleasure,” Niol told her in that voice that was seductive steel. “But I want to know you.”

  “You’re already investigating me.” A hunch, that, nothing more. Because she did know him. She’d done her own research after the first night she’d seen him, and been unable to get the demon out of her head.

  She understood the way he operated. Understood the guards he’d locked onto her and understood that her demon heritage would be a mystery for him, one that he’d solve at all costs.

  Maybe that was a good thing. She wanted to know the truth, too. All her life, she’d thought she was a human. She’d been surrounded by her “normal” friends, gone to St. Mary’s Church every Sunday, gone to college—led a regular life.

  Until now.

  Niol didn’t deny the investigation, just kept drifting his fingers up and down her arm in a slow, tempting caress.

  “What are you hiding?” He asked quietly.

  Pain. The instant answer. A hell of a lot of pain. “Why do you want to know about Peter?”

  His hand stilled. “Because I think he may have been like you. Like me.”

  Not Peter. “Peter died of a drug overdose, okay?” The words ripped from her. “He was a kid, in too deep, he—”

  “Demons fall prey to addictions much faster than humans, love.” Soft, almost gentle. “The drugs—they’re a temptation some can’t resist. They quiet the voices and the visions of blood and death that just won’t stop.”

  Ice poured over her. “What?” She shot up in the bed, clamping the sheet tight to her chest. “What voices? What visions of death? Peter didn’t have—”

  “Demons have different powers.” He rose, too, but didn’t bother pulling up the sheet to hide his body. “Some control the elements, almost like witches. Some can slip into a human’s mind—”

  Yes, she knew about that.

  “Some have other, less…desirable powers.” A pause. “Like your friend Sam.”

  Slashed to pieces. Holly licked her lips. “Wh-what do you know about Sam’s power?” Sam had told her that he was a low-level demon, pretty average, pretty—

  “Sam got the shit-end of the draw. He could read the thoughts of humans—across blocks, miles—without even trying.”

  That was the shit-end of the draw?

  “But the only thoughts he could pick up were from killers. Rapists. Twisted pervs who wanted to hurt and maim. And Sam couldn’t turn the voices off, no matter how hard he tried…until he found the meth.”

  Peter’s voice drifted through her mind. “You ever have nightmares, sis?”

  “We all have nightmares.” They’d been in the kitchen, getting ready for school, and running late, as usual. She’d rolled her eyes and chugged her orange juice.

  He’d been fourteen. She’d been thirteen.

  “No. Not a snake’s gonna bite me shit—”

  “Shh! Don’t let mom hear you say that—”

  He’d grabbed her arm, knocking over the orange juice so that it poured over the tabletop and dripped onto the floor. “I’m talking about seeing people die. Getting ripped apart. Over and over—hearing some bastard laughing and—”

  “Peter Marcus Storm!” Their mother’s voice shrieked at them. “What have I told you about…”

  “Cursing in my house,” she whispered. Oh, shit. Oh, no. Peter had never talked about his nightmares to her after that. When they’d climbed onto the school bus, he’d stared at her, eyes sad and said simply, “You don’t have them.”

  She hadn’t understood.

  Niol touched her cheek and she flinched away from him. “You remember, don’t you, Holly?”

  Peter had spiraled away from her so fast.

  “When puberty hits, most demons come into the power, and for those with the Dark Touch—”

  “The Dark Touch?” They had a name for it? Goose bumps covered her arms. Peter’s face was so clear in her mind right then. Not the face after death—the bloated, pale face with the glassy eyes.

  The youthful, worried face of her brother. Her nose, her mouth. His intense eyes and strong jaw.

  “Those with the Touch pick up the negative energy and it can warp their minds. Demons have a well-deserved reputation for many reasons. The fact that those with the Touch fight insanity is one of ’em.”

  She wanted to scream. To yell that he was wrong about her brother, about every damn thing. But Niol knew demons far better than she did. “And what? Drugs are their only hope? Getting wasted? Overdosing and dying?”

  “Mind shields.” His jaw worked. “We have to find a way to screen the kids and get them suited with shielding to block out the energy. It can be done, it can—”

  “Doctor Drake is teaching me how to shield.” Said slowly.

  Surprise flickered across his face.

  “I won’t be helpless again,” she muttered.

  “You never were.” Niol’s eyes held hers. “You never were.”

  So said the guy with enough power to fry his enemies from the inside out.

  Her temples ached. There was so much to take in. “Niol, you-you really think my brother was one of those with that—power?”

  “Can’t know for sure. Not now.”

  Because her brother had been buried in Meadows Cemetery for so many long years now. She visited him every Christmas, every February seventeenth—the day of his birth—and every August third—the day she’d found his body.

  “If he was like that…” And dammit, she was believing that he could have been. “Then why am I different?” Normal.

  “You’re a hybrid demon.”

  She knew the term. Someone with the mixed blood of a demon and…something else.

  “Maybe a quarter demon, could be even less—I’m not done shaking your family tree.”

  Ah, okay.

  “Power manifests differently for hybrids. Sometimes…” His jaw clenched. “Fucking powerful bastards are born. And sometimes…”

  “You get me,” she finished. “I don’t have any powers, Niol. I can’t make fire.” She glanced at the candles, all but sputtering out. “Can’t read minds. Can’t do—”

  “You don’t know what you can do. Neither do I. Time will show us.” He didn’t sound particularly concerned. “What I do know about you—you can cloak your powers like no one I’ve ever seen.”

  Well, that was something.

  “I should have sensed you from the beginning, but the glamour is too strong. I can only see through it when you—”

  Climax.

  What had Dr. Drake said? Certain powerful instances or stressful situations may trigger the latent powers in you.

  Her climaxes with Niol sure fell under the “powerful instances” category.

  “If it turns out you’re a level-one—” Niol continued.

  The weakest of the demons.

  “Big deal.” His fingers tangled in her hair and he brought her face toward his for a hard, long kiss. “I’ll still want you like fucking hell on fire.”

  Darkness.

  The candlelight was gone. A ball of tight need stirred within her again, but she held on to her control, needing to know…“Niol…do you have the Touch?”

&
nbsp; Her hand lay on his chest. Touching the flesh so warm it almost seemed to burn her. Feeling the heart beneath her hand—and the hard lurch it gave at her question.

  “You don’t want to know all that I can do.” Said with absolute certainty. “If you knew, you’d be running from me as fast as you could.”

  She didn’t move her hand. Didn’t move her body. “I’ve already seen what you can do—”

  “Sweetheart, that was just the start.” Light flashed in the room, but not from the candles. Flames hovered in the air, small balls of spinning fire. “What I can do…it’d scare you to death.”

  “Nice light show.” Her hands lifted to his face. Felt the faint sting of a late-night shadow lining his jaw. “I don’t scare easily, Niol.” She dropped the sheet. Straddled his hips. Let the aroused length of his cock slide against her sex.

  Flesh to flesh.

  The way it had never been for them.

  “I’m on the pill,” she told him bluntly. “And I’m clean.”

  “I can’t get any diseases that humans have—”

  Her brow furrowed. “But I thought demons—”

  “Lower-level demons can, weaker immunity. I’m not like them.” He kissed her, hard and deep. She lifted her hips, rubbing along the length of that swollen flesh.

  Inside.

  She stared into his eyes. So black. So many secrets. “I don’t scare easily,” she repeated, and arched her hips.

  The tip of his cock slid into her.

  Face-to-face. Sex to sex.

  Niol’s hand eased between their bodies. Parted her folds. Stroked the bud that quivered for him.

  Then shoved his cock deeper into her.

  “Good,” he growled. “Because you’re not getting away from me.”

  She pushed up on her knees. Drove down. Up. Down. The rhythm grew faster, harder.

  She wanted, needed the pleasure. The wild rush of release to cover the memories he’d stirred.

  Screw it. She wanted him.

  His cock was hot inside her. Long. Thick. Strong. Filling her. Stretching. Sliding in and out in deep thrusts that had her straining against him.

  Her bed was big and sturdy. No squeaks. No moans from the mattress.

  Just the deep slide of his cock.

  The clench of her sex.

  Deep.

  Again and again.

  She kissed him when she came.

  When he released within her, his climax a long wave of heat that caressed her flesh, he said her name.