Page 116 of Bloodhunter

His hot stare nearly set my hair on fire. He grabbed myshoulders and pulled me to him. “Stop it. I’m not a broken man. I’m just a man.I need something more than your pity and your horror.”

“Then take it, Clayton. Take what you need.”

He groaned, then yanked me against his body, and his gripwas tight as he carried me to the sofa. He dropped me to it and followed medown, his passion feeding mine.

I caught glimpses of the demon in his eyes, and I felt hisinfluence in Clayton’s touches. I heard him in Clayton’s moans, and I knewClayton wasn’t the only one enjoying his freedom. The demon was no longersick—at least not physically.

And the demon liked sex.

A lot.

I lay naked and sprawled on the couch before both of them,and both of them slid their fingers into me and rubbed me and kissed me and rantheir tongues over my breasts.

But eventually, there was only Clayton. He was the only oneI cared about, the only one I saw. Let the demon have his fun. As long as hecouldn’t mess with my mind, I really didn’t care what he saw or what he did.

To me, there was only Clayton.

And when I climbed on top of Clayton and took him into mymouth, I wasn’t sucking the demon.

Clayton lost control and grew rough and hard and almostmindless in his hunger, and that was okay. My passion was a match for his. Myneed was as big. My lust was as strong.

Over and over and over, until finally, our bodies could dono more. In the end, we found ourselves on the floor, and we lay spent andreplete and sticky and hot, and he kept his arms wrapped around me as though hewould never let me go.

But Angus was dying.

Clayton’s arms tightened as he felt me stiffen and knew whatwas coming, knew our time was at an end, and he rose up over me to give me onelast, long, tender kiss.

When he pulled away and stared down at me, regretful butresigned, I saw something in his eyes that made me cry out in terror. I saw theabsenceof something.

The demon was gone.

Chapter Forty-One

I sat in the middle of the filthy floor, stunned. “What havewe done? Where did…howdid he go?” I beat suddenly at my chest, unableto breathe, as I feared for a second that the incubus had climbed somehow intome.

But no. He couldn’t have. I would have felt him. I wouldhave known.

“I don’t know.” Clayton began to get dressed, slowly,methodically. Passionlessly.

“But how? Did he go home?” I looked up at him, halfdisbelieving, though I didn’t doubt he felt the demon’s absence. “He went homeand Angus will die.”

He reached down and plucked me from the floor, then wrappedhis arms around me as I stood silent and horrified. He said nothing, becausethere was nothing to say.

But then, he tightened his arms for one brief second, sotightly it hurt, and a dark force descended upon him. Ifeltit.

It was the feeling of absolute darkness. Of bleakness. Ofdespair.

And I remembered that feeling. I’d lived it.

I put my hands to my mouth, as though the invisible incubusmight take my breath. “He’s back! The demon is back?”

Clayton’s face was blank, his voice emotionless. “Not thatdemon.”

And I saw it in his eyes—eyes that no longer contained thespark they’d held a mere five minutes earlier.

“No,” I whispered. “Oh, no, Clayton.”

“We have a connection,” he said, blankly polite. “Miriam andI. She knew the moment the incubus was gone.”